#and then bradley leaves to get drunk

[booasaur]

The Morning Show - 3x01

[roosterforme]

I hope this is a good space for horny thots cause holy hell. I’m ovulating so I’m FERAL rn..I need either Jake or Bradley or Bob or WHOEVER..I just need to bite his shoulder and leave teeth marks…nails scraping down his back..covering them in hickeys..ruining government property..cause..fuck ..yeah 💕😇

Nonny, this is ALWAYS a safe space for horny thoughts....

"Fuck," Jake panted, coming for the second time this morning as you arched your back off the bed and whined his name. Your fingernails were pressed into the side of his neck, the little bit of pain almost too pleasurable at this point as he quickly withdrew from your delicious body. "Baby, I need to leave."

Your pouty lips were too much right now. You'd spent the weekend with them gliding along his cock and sucking on his neck. You sounded like a spoiled brat as you said, "But, Jake, I wanted to go for three."

Well damn, now he did too. But he really just couldn't. "Give me a raincheck? Please, Baby? I can't be late for work."

You rolled onto your side as you said, "I almost kind of hate that you're technically military property."

"Fuck Uncle Sam," Jake grunted as he pulled on some underwear and his uniform pants without even cleaning off his cock. 

Your soft giggle was followed by a whispered, "Fuck Uncle Sam."

By the time he finally made it to base, he had absolutely no time to spare. He ducked into classroom number four just as Maverick called everyone to attention, and Jake stopped to stand next to Phoenix. But as soon as Maverick came closer and really looked at him, he knew he was in trouble. 

"Hangman," his superior office said with a bit of a humorous lilt to his voice.

"Sir?"

"Those are some... interesting bruises on your neck."

Jake could feel his cheeks heating up as everyone else turned to look at him as well. He must have been wrong in his assumption that his collar covered all of the hickeys, love bites and scratches.

"And, you're out of dress code, Lieutenant."

Jake looked down at himself in horror as he realized he'd buttoned his shirt incorrectly. He wanted to disappear. Or rather, he wanted to go back to bed and punish you a little bit for turning him into such a pussy drunk mess.

"Holy shit," Phoenix whispered as Maverick walked back to the podium. "Who did you spend the weekend with?"

"That's none of your business," he hissed immediately.

Maverick cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah, well it's about to be everyone's business when they see you running five miles around base and then doing two hundred pushups," he said loudly. "You were thirty seconds late and you look like hell. Get a move on, Hangman."

He thought about how tight he was going to tie you up while he was running.

[topgun-imagines]

Day 12: Take It All Back

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bradley says something he comes to regret in the heat of the moment.

Warnings: Arguments, insults, age-gaps, insecurities & drinking

Word count: 1.5k

A night out with Bradley’s friends was what started this argument in the first place. Normally, you tried to stay away from his friends. They were lovely people, you just found that whenever you and your boyfriend went out with them, he became an entirely different person. You weren’t sure what got into the pilot, but you figured it was best to remove yourself from the situation entirely. Sometimes, it seemed like he was embarrassed to just be in your presence. While you didn't want to admit it, you were fairly certain you knew why.

Bradley was over ten years older than you. Even though he had assured you that the age gap was no problem for him, you found it hard to believe him in times like this. While you knew that his friends were lovely people, you occasionally got the feeling that a few of them were weirded out by the large age difference. That wasn’t what bothered you, however. It was the fact that your own boyfriend would act as if you didn’t exist whenever you went out with his friends. It was as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience to him; nothing more than someone that he got stuck with taking care of rather than his loving girlfriend.

So, you did your best to avoid situations where you would have to hide in the corner, charring with Bob while Rooster entertained anything other than you. You didn’t mind chatting with Bob. Quite the opposite, in fact. You just wished that Bradley would spend a little more time with you when he was out with his friends.

However, even though you felt like this, you would never tell Bradley. You didn’t want to be seen as the clingy and insecure girlfriend. So, you suffered in silence and watched your Boyfriend mingle about the bar. It wasn’t all that bad. After all, you had Bob to keep you company.

This particular night, it was Bob’s birthday. Normally, you would have come up with some excuse to get out of going to the celebration at the Hard Deck. However, you had Bob had grown exceptionally close over the past few months in Miramar. Regardless of how badly you wanted to be curled up at home with your boyfriend and some music, you sucked it up to wish your friend a happy birthday.

The second you walked into the Hard Deck, you could tell how much love and effort had gone into making the bar look wonderful for the festivities. You could practically feel the pride radiating off Jake and Natasha for the entire night. Penny had insisted on making the cake from scratch and you could safely say that you had never seen a more beautiful-looking dessert. The few gifts that people brought were stacked on the bar top and most of the aviators were gathered around the pool table.

Once again, Bradley left your side the second you stepped into the bar, leaving you to go track down one of your other friends. Bob, as usual, was sitting just outside the rowdy group, nursing a root beer. You joined the shy WSO and watched the game of pool between Phoenix and Coyote unfold.

After a few hours, the group was well past the point of being drunk. Given the fact that no one had work in the morning, they were all loving the thought of not showing up on base with a hangover. Being someone who never drank that often, you found yourself stepping away from the group when they all started drinking heavily. Bob was the same. That was how you found him hiding out on the deck, watching the waves crash against the shore. “Why aren’t you inside? Enjoying your party.” You chuckled quietly, taking a seat next to him and sticking your feet in the sand. You tipped your head back to stare up at the stars above you. Everything was silent for the next few seconds. Just as you were about to stand up and leave, giving Bob some time to himself, the WSO spoke.

“Just needed a bit of a break,” You instantly understood what he meant. Especially when you heard the loud, intoxicated laughs coming from inside the bar. With a hum, the two of you descended into silence once more. A comfortable silence that was only broken by Bob’s next question. “How are things between you and Bradley?”

You had gone to Bob when you first started avoiding group outings. The man had been exactly what you needed. He simply let you vent, providing his opinion on the situation only after he knew that you were finished. For that, you were incredibly thankful. “Still the same.” You breathed with a heavy sigh. Bob offered you a look of sympathy, knowing the toll that this was taking on you.

It was when Bob laid a comforting hand on your shoulder that something clicked. The only reason you were here was to celebrate Bob’s birthday. Sure, you didn’t mind sitting out in the calm with the WSO, but Bradley had promised you that things wouldn’t be the same as they usually were. From where you were sitting, it sure looked like nothing had changed.

Before Bob could stop you, you were standing up off the deck and heading for the bar. With a sigh, Bob followed you into the brightly lit building. He watched with a slight grimace on his face as you hurried up to your boyfriend and tugged on his arm. Bradley followed you away from the group with a small pout on his face. Watching you silently from the corner, Bob saw the way Bradley’s face fell.

And then the man was storming out of the bar. You were hot on his heels, trying to keep your voice down but failing miserably. Despite what was most likely your best wishes, the majority of the Dagger Squad followed the two of you outside. Including Bob. Their jaws dropped at the sight in front of them.

Bradley was towering over you, his face flushed in our anger. The shy WSO was the only one to notice the terrified look on your face. You were good at hiding it. “Oh, could you grow up?” Your boyfriend snapped at you. Your jaw dropped, but he wasn’t done yet. “God, sometimes you act like such a child.” Gasps could be heard from the aviators only a few feet away.

In that moment, your heart dropped into your stomach. Bradley knew that the age gap between the two of you was something that you were most insecure about. He had just used that against you. Ever so slowly, you took a step away from him. The second there was more than a foot of distance between you two, his face changed entirely. It was as if he just realized what he had said; how he had hurt you.

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. Wordlessly, you shook your head slightly and stepped away from your boyfriend. When he tried to stop you, you merely pulled your wrist from his hold. “I’m going home,” You whispered. Your attempts at keeping your tears at bay failed and you sniffled as they trailed down your face. The members of the Dagger Squad that were still standing outside offered you sympathetic looks as you walked back into the bar to collect your things.

Bradley didn’t even try to follow you in. After a few seconds and multiple attempts at wiping your eyes, you stepped back outside. Instantly, Bob was by your side. Jake had hauled Bradley off around the corner of the bar and you could distantly hear him tearing into him for his comment. “Let me drive you home.” Bob left no room for argument as he ushered you to his truck.

However, you still tried to protest. “Bobby, it’s your birthday. You shouldn’t have to drive me home.” With one look, he silenced any of your arguments. So, you climbed into his truck wordlessly. Bob pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive back to his house rather than yours. Silently, you thanked him. You couldn’t handle returning to your shared home with Bradley, without your boyfriend being there. Instead, he was at the bar, having both Phoenix and Jake rip his head off about how insensitive he was.

You had no idea what was going to happen in the next few days, but you knew that it was going to take you a long time to get over what Bradley said. Your head knocked against the window and your eyes closed. The soft sound of Bob singing along with the radio was the last thing you heard before you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @kellyls04 @xeve9809 @scarletmeii @inkandarsenic @malindacath

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Girl, You're My Angel - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's a down on his luck first baseman in the MLB, struggling to find his stride in the game he loves so much. A wedding invite from his ex-wife is enough to convince him to go for a drink, trying to forget about everything going on. He wasn't banking on meeting you though.

pairing: baseball!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

warnings/content: baseball au, mentions of divorce, smoking, alcohol, reference to drunk driving, bar fight, mentions of blood, Bradley having a dirty mind.

word count: 3k.

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The booming bass drum of a classic rock song thumped in your head as you gripped the cocktail glass in your hand. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as you danced, swaying to and fro with your best friends, trying your best to enjoy yourself on your girls’ night out. Your finals had just wrapped up, and you were this much closer to earning your masters, the only thing standing between you and getting that embossed sheet of paper, was your grades. To unwind after the cram sessions you’d mustered your way through for the past month, your friends dragged you out to some new amusement bar in the Gaslamp Quarter. 

Across the bar, on the other side of the room, stood Bradley Bradshaw, a once promising baseball star who now, had earned himself a reputation as the MLB’s resident asshole - unable to take criticism or a loss without lashing out at someone. His recent stunt involved hurling his baseball bat across the diamond when he struck out in practice, frustrated with his sudden lack of skill, a skill that once came so naturally to him when his mind wasn’t preoccupied. 

The invitation had come in the mail two days before the bat throwing incident. His ex-wife, the one who left him two and a half years ago, was remarrying the fucking prick she cheated on Bradley with. The invite had come completely out of the blue, and when Bradley opened it, he felt all of the air leave his lungs as his fingers traced over the gold embossed lettering, donning her name and the name of her new fiancé. He’d never admit it to anyone, but that single piece of cardstock had been enough to reduce him to tears, slumping down the kitchen wall as he hugged his knees to his chest, crying loud enough that it made him thankful he had no neighbours near by.

Bradley had pulled himself together, lit a cigarette from the pack he’d been nursing for the last few months, reserved only for social events and times of pure stress, and got in his vintage Ford Bronco, his first purchase when he signed his first contract. Taking a drag from the cigarette, his brown eyes scanned over San Diego’s downtown core as he cruised past a few of the typical nightlife spots - each one a little too public for what he wanted. All other options exhausted, he pulled up outside of a newer bar that had opened the previous week, neon lights advertising an arcade on one side and drinks on the other. 

He figured if nothing else, a couple of rounds of Pac-Man on an old video game after a handful of beers might do him good. He could leave the Bronco parked there and walk to the hotel around the corner, and forget about how his ex-wife’s wedding was coming up in six months, how she’d had the audacity to invite him to see her marrying the guy he’d walked in on her with.  

He sidled up to the bar, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks as he ordered himself a beer. Standing across from him was a group of women, not much younger than him, gossiping and giggling together. He sized the group up, thinking to himself that maybe a one-night deal was what he needed to take his mind off his ex. 

You were the tallest girl of the group, with bright eyes, and hair brushed back in a sleek, high ponytail, sporting a form-fitting cocktail dress that made Bradley’s heart race when he saw you. He pounded back the rest of his beer, trying to find his confidence in himself once again in the comfort of the drink. 

Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar top before walking his way around the circular counter. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning in with a broad smile as you looked in his direction. He offered a polite wave of his hand, chuckling awkwardly as he felt his confidence wavering as he spoke to you. 

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? He said simply, his Virginian accent dropping into a thicker drawl than usual.

“I’m good, thanks, still got one,” You held up your half-full glass and shook your head politely, not wanting to reject him too brutally. 

Bradley nodded his head once at you, his smile faltering for a second. He quickly regained himself, smiling once again politely before grabbing himself another beer and heading over to the arcade, resolving that a couple of old-school video games might make his night a little better. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to rejection - he’d been turned down almost as often as he’d been accepted, but for some reason, your rejection stung just that little bit more. Maybe it was the wedding invitation still making things sour, or maybe it was the fact that the mere sight of a girl hadn’t been enough to make his heart accelerate like this in a long time. He shook his head once, trying to focus his train of thought once again on something, anything other than what was currently occupying it. 

Baseball? Too stressful, his game was starting to slip up on him. Buying a puppy? No, it’d just be one more thing he could let down. Hitting the gym? He already went 6 days a week - if he went any more frequently, he’d have to consider moving his bed in there. 

His mind raced as he pressed the buttons on the video game, moving the small yellow circle across the screen, collecting points between sips of beer. Behind him, he heard a couple of guys shouting at a tv screen, the sound of the latest sports highlights blaring out in the background. 

“This Bradshaw asshole needs to get his shit together. Twenty-nine and he plays about as well as my ten year old. Drop him down to the minors or get rid of the bastard. He shouldn’t be missing plays like this.” One of the voices shouted at the tv, his friends nodding their heads in silent agreement with his rant.

Bradley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as the insults about his playing continued to spout from this guy’s mouth. He couldn’t have been much older than Bradley was, one of those armchair commentators who probably hadn’t swung a bat since Little League. As the criticism continued, each jab focused directly at Bradley’s game performance, missing one play that cost a game - one that he’d already been feeling pissed off about - it became harder to ignore. 

“I bet that hot little piece of ass wife of his left him because she knew he was a dogshit baseball player.” 

Bradley spun around on his heels so fast that he swore the room was spinning. He turned to face the group, crowded in a corner in front of the tv, faces all glued to the female commentator. Bradley could practically hear the derogatory thoughts they were having about her and it only fuelled his anger more. 

“Hey, man, if you’ve got an issue with how I play the game, I’d like to see you get off your ass and go play nine innings against Boston. Keep my ex-wife’s name out of your mouth.” Bradley scoffed, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the trio. 

“You got a problem, jackass?” The other man growled, raising an eyebrow at Bradley as he slammed his drink down on the table. “She probably left you for that rookie because even she knew you weren’t good for anything.”

“That so? Your wife would probably like to go a couple rounds with me though.” Bradley retorted, a devilish smirk forming on his face as he folded his muscular arms across his chest. 

Before Bradley had time to blink, the man drew back his arm and landed a hard punch to Bradley’s jaw. Bradley quickly delivered a stronger hit to the man’s face, watching him stumble backwards for a second. Bradley turned around and walked outside, getting ready to light another cigarette as he ran his hand over his jaw, assessing if he had any damage to worry about. 

The man returned, practically running outside after Bradley. More heated words were exchanged, insults flying between them both before the man delivered another hit, this time to Bradley’s nose. He shook his hand off and headed off down the street with his friends, disappearing off to the next bar. Bradley held his nose, blood dripping down from his nostrils and onto his hand. 

You and your friends had heard the commotion when it unfolded inside, and decided to head out, having enough excitement for one night. As you stepped out, you saw the man who’d hit on you earlier, this time with his nose bleeding onto the pavement under him. You ran over to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What did you do, hit on a girl who had a boyfriend?” You asked playfully as you rooted through your purse for something to help clean his nose.

“Called a guy out for saying my ex-wife was a “hot piece of ass”, actually,” Bradley nodded once, gratefully taking the tissues from you and using them to clean his nose. 

“Stick your hand out for a sec,” you instructed, squirting a dollop of scented hand sanitizer into his large palm before raising an eyebrow at him, “You don’t have anything I could catch from helping you without gloves?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Bradley scoffed, trying to laugh but wincing instead, “And why the fuck does my hand smell like a flower?”

“Lavender hand sanitizer. It’s not as good as washing your hands, but it’ll do while we’re outside. And I’m going to hold the tissues in place while you rub it into your hands, but I don’t want to catch something. I’m just fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Good thing. I’m allergic,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to brave through the pain, “I’m clean. You’re fine. I get drug tested and physicals through work constantly.” 

“What kind of a job provides those? Military?” 

“Professional athlete.” He nodded as you pinched the tissues to his nose, applying pressure to help with the bleeding. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Your nose is broken, it’s suppose to hurt.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, just wrote my finals for a masters in nursing.”

“Close enough,” Bradley nodded slightly, cringing as you continued to apply pressure to his nose.

You rooted through your purse, laughing softly as you pulled a tampon out of your bag. Bradley raised an eyebrow at you, not quite registering what the item was until you pulled the plastic wrapping off of it, stuffing the garbage back into your purse.

“What the fuck do you plan on doing with that?”

“I need to stick it up your nose on the left side. It’s bleeding more than I’d like to see, and a broken nose should probably be set in a medical setting. This way, you won’t bleed all over my car.”

“Your car? You’ve been drinking.”

“Half a vodka-cran over the span of three hours? I think I’m probably not gonna blow over the limit.”

“You are not sticking that up my nose,” he replied stubbornly, arms folding over his chest like a petulant child. 

“Look at your shirt,” you laughed, gesturing to the white floral print button down he was wearing, its collar now tinged with red and pink splotches. 

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but if anyone finds out about this, I’m denying it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you nodded as you offered him the plastic applicator. 

Bradley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pressed the bottom of the applicator, pushing the tampon into the edge of his nose. He looked at you with another dramatic eyeroll and shook his head before walking down the street to a garbage can. He discarded the applicator before turning to face you, sighing. 

“I can take myself to a hospital, you know.”

“I’m already here, I may as well come with you. Besides, I feel kinda bad about turning you down.”

“Oh, so you’re taking care of me out of pity?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Even more so with a tampon hanging out of your nose.”

“It’s quite the fashion statement, isn’t it?” He laughed softly, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt. 

You unlocked your car, the familiar beep as the doors unlocked causing Bradley to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?!” 

“My car,” you responded matter-of-factly, “What does it look like?”

“One of those cars for a Barbie doll that my goddaughter plays with,” he said as he flourished his hand, gesturing to your pink steering wheel cover and coordinating seat cover.

“Listen, I like pink. Now are you getting in, or do I have to make you?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, your playful threat of making him get into the car sending his mind into a frenzy again. He eyed you up and down again, and found himself shaking his head as he wondered what colour underwear you had on under your dress. He bet it was probably a coordinating pink set - the kind that Victoria’s Secret mannequins would model in the store window, with delicate little bows or lace or something adorning them. 

Focus, Bradley. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Stop thinking about her.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat, watching as you hopped into the driver’s side. As you pulled away from the curb, he raised an eyebrow at your choice in music as Taylor Swift started blaring from the speaker.

“You can change it if you want to,” you nodded. “You can put on whatever.”

“No, no, It’s fine. I actually like this song.”

“You said you’re a professional athlete? What sport do you play?”

“Baseball,” he said, slowly nodding his head, “my headshot’s on a flag outside of Petco Park.”

“I thought I recognized you, you’re that player everyone always talks about, right?”

“Unfortunately. It’s rarely good things.”

“How come?”

Bradley sighed, raising an eyebrow, “You know they talk about me but not why?”

“I don’t follow baseball, I've actually never even seen a game, live or on tv. I just know my friend does and she told me everyone talks about you. Bradshaw, right? Number 10?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Bradley Bradshaw. First baseman, used to have a promising career, then, you know, wife cheats on me with a rookie from a rival team, catch her in a hotel room that I paid for with him, and then, despite me stupidly telling her I forgave her and you know what, I was pissed, but I loved her anyway and I blamed myself for her cheating, she served me divorce papers. Said I was incapable of loving anything but baseball. Says the woman who refused to do anything with me when I tried to be loving and affectionate. My friends swear she only married me for the status and the paycheck. Her new fiancé just signed a multi-million dollar contract that’s being talked about as one of the highest in the league, so it sort of checks out.” 

“Jeez,” you whistled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was two and half years ago. I just, I haven’t found my stride again yet, I guess.” 

“Is that why you got defensive about her?”

“They said she left me for this other guy because she knew I was a dogshit ball player. I mean, it’s probably not far off. But, I got an invite for her wedding in the mail today, and I was already on edge, so I sort of…snapped.”

“She invited you?!” 

“Yeah, like that, huh? She probably thought I have someone new I’m seeing and that we could still be friends or some shit.”

“So you need a date?”

“I’m not going,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? Free drinks for a night, you can wish her well while secretly hoping her husband’s ball career washes out on him in a year or two.”

Bradley chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured his hand towards you, “I like your thinking actually, but I’m not going alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders, “When is it?”

“In six months, you don’t need to come with me though. I’ll send her some cheap gift and call it a day.”

“No,” you insisted as you pulled into a parking space at the hospital’s urgent care clinic, “I’ll come with you. I love a good revenge story. Besides, it could be fun. I’ve never partied with a bunch of baseball players before.”

“You’re…you’re something else, you know that?”

“You mean, you don’t have dozens of women offering you a tampon to stop your nosebleed, driving you to the hospital and then offering to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding date?” you challenged.

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first.” 

Bradley couldn’t help his ear to ear grin as he followed you into the hospital. Despite his bloodied, battered nose, which was hurting more than he cared to let on, and his fledging career, falling apart around him as he stood there, he felt genuinely excited. Excited to get to know you better. Excited to see where things went with you. He felt a promising sense in your words - like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be done with one-night-stands and empty beds in the morning. He felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with his high school crush. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain from his nose or the alcohol talking, but he was almost convinced you were a guardian angel of sorts. Refusing to believe that someone like you could be anything but. 

First things first though, he needed to bring you to a baseball game. 

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance]

Summary: Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Overbearing mothers.

Word Count: 4:1k

Author Note: Mothers…Especially boy mothers can just be the worst when they’re in LOVE with their sons.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 1st 

Bradley Bradshaw never thought he would be the person Jake Seresin called when he was in a situation and needed help, but here he was. Sitting in his Bronco outside the house of a woman he didn't know in the early hours of the morning watching Jake stumble down the small overgrown cobblestone path. The Halloween costume Rooster had seen Jake in early that night was long forgotten as the fighter pilot wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs with his wallet and keys in the palms of his hands. 

Immediately as soon as Jake sat in the passenger's seat of Bradleys pride and joy, he could smell the liquor trying to expel itself from Jake pores. 

“You smell like a distillery and we have a HOP at 8am.” There was a very evident disdain for Jake's current state in Roosters' tone, Jake wasn’t drunk enough to miss that. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to pick you up anyway? What did you do this time to warrant getting kicked out?” Jake didn't respond right away as he kept his eyes staring blankly out the window, the two had only just recently been given new orders to remain in North Island permanently. But when he did speak up, Bradley's heart ached. 

“I accidentally said my wifes name while uh–yeah.” Jake didn't think he needed to explicitly tell his wingman that, during one of the first and what Jake would consider the last one night stand he’d engaged in during your separation, he’d called out your name. “Vanessa didn't really like that.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” Bradley agreed as he drove down the street. “That's rough dude.” Bradley knew of yours and Jake's separation, Jake had told him one night at the Hard Deck after he’d asked how the family was. The two hadn’t always been on good terms but Rooster liked to think you and him were close enough to send Christmas cards to. When Jake had told him you’d left? Bradley didn’t reach out—he assumed it was for the best all things considered. 

“Yeah—but you know what’s rougher?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the headrest. 

“What’s that?” 

“Knowing your wife won’t ever believe you’ll change.” Bradley knew without even looking at Jake that between the mix of alcohol and his desire to win you back that the naval aviator sitting with slumped shoulders beside him was holding back tears. “And proving her right by sleeping with some badge bunny who looked an awful lot like her.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Your home had never been so quiet with all three of your children gone. You stood in the foyer of the entryway just looking around at the mess that had been left behind. Forgotten toys yet to be put away, discarded shoes, dirty plates and cups. Pine needles that fallen from the faux Christmas tree that was essentially hanging on by its last thread. The reminisce of three young children that were allowed to be children inside the safety of their own home. 

As you wiped away the tears that you had let fall freely down from your puffy eyes, you made an effort to tidy up the house you’d be leaving in only a few short hours to leave for the hospital stay you had planned. Tiny shoes with no feet to fill, toys left unattended over the holidays simply to be replaced by newer shiner ones. 

Between now and new years while Jake had the kids in Texas your treatment plan would increase tenfold. You were scheduled for aggressive rounds of IV chemotherapy that you knew you’d have to stay in hospital for to go through, your body was barely tolerating the oral medication as it was. You were scheduled for a double mastectomy in your time at the hospital which would hopefully stop any cancerous cells from spreading to more lymph nodes and areas of your body that remained untouched. Did you have high hopes? Not particularly. But you were ready and willing to do just about anything the oncologist assigned to your particular case had recommended. 

It was going to be a rough stint, but hopefully by the time Jake returned with your children, you’d still be able to mask your diagnosis. How you were going to explain the symptoms like hair loss and suddenly having no breast tissue to Jake was something you had yet to come up with. 

But ‘New year, New me’ was looking like the best possible explanation. Maybe the new look would get him off your case a little when it came to working on your marital issues. 

As you put things back in their rightful places and tidy up, you felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. The call ID immediately made you want to cry even more than you already had been. 

“Hi mum—“ You cooed softly as you stood alone in your empty home. “I uh, I just got home.” 

“How was Jake?” Your mother asked as she drove over to yours, you could hear the difference in her voice because of the shitty ass bluetooth system she barely knew how to work properly. “Did the kids kick up a fuss?” 

“Jake was–” You would never be able to find the right words to describe your husband, well, ex-husband. “Jake was Jake mum you know how we are right now.” Your mother knew about your diagnosis. She had been the one who urged you to see a doctor after you told her you had found a rather large lump on your left breast. “And no, actually the kids were super excited to go with their dad for the holidays, I think they still don't really understand that I'm not gonna be there at all, maybe they just think I won't be there for a day or two, but uh–yeah, they were good.” 

“And how are you feeling?” It was surprisingly a rather hard question to answer as you sat down on the lounge. For the longest time you had always put your family first, made sure all their needs were met before your own. From your kids to your husband they always came first, but now? Now you had to focus on your health and put yourself first if you had any chance of getting through the next few weeks. 

“I threw up this morning–” It was your way of saying you werent travelling well at all. “After I slept with Jake–” You knew your mum would be shocked at your admission, so you closed your eyes and braced for it. The scolding, the “never sleep with an ex speech” But it never came. All that came was a sigh you couldn't tell was laced in disappointment or approval. 

“You need that man in your life darling, he's a good man, the two of you just need to work on your differences.” Your mother had always had a soft spot for Jake Seresin, for a few weeks after your initial breakup he stayed in her spare room. Jake loved your mother like his own and you knew that if you ever gave her a moment on the soap box, your mum would scream it to whoever would listen just how much you and Jake were made for one another. 

Which in your opinion was a little shitty. Jake had his own mum. You needed yours. 

“I know he's a good man mum, that's why I married him to begin with.” You sighed heavily as you laid on the lounge to ward off the dizzy spell that was threatening to throw you off balance. “But I haven't been his priority in a hell of a long time, and I owe it to myself to not go back to being a married single mother.” 

“Okay okay, well–” You knew your mum was only trying to help but it felt like the two of you had this very same conversation every time you spoke, it was like deja vu. “He won't wait around forever darling.” That fact you also knew, according to Jake himself her name was Violet or Vivian or Vanessa. Something that started with a V. Either way you knew very well that Jake wouldn’t wait around for you to take him back on his hands and knees begging. 

But at the end of the day you weren’t sure if you even wanted him to wait for you. Of course you loved Jake, with your whole heart. But right now nothing made sense to you, you were dying after all. 

“Trust me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how Vanessa or Vicky or Veronica looked. If she looked anything like you or maybe completely different. If she had blue eyes you'd surmise that he probilby date her. “I know he won't, but he's not the priority right now, my health is.” 

“I'll be there in about an hour or two depending on traffic.” For a split second you wished it might take a little longer. Although you loved your mum dearly and appreciated everything she ever did for you, her favouritism towards your husband made your blood boil. 

“Okay, I might have a bit of a nap while I'm waiting for you, I'm feeling pretty shattered.” No word of a lie was spoken, you were exhausted to say the very least. Finally being alone and not having to be in constant caregiver mode for three young children truly had your body calling it quits. You needed sleep and so much of it. 

“I'll see you soon alright?” You mum spoke through the bluetooth that crackled and broke with the failing reception, but you heard her just barely. 

“Alright, bye mum.” You paused hesitantly as you let your eyes close “I love you.” It had been a while since you told anyone you loved them besides your kids, and for a second you wished it was Jake on the other end of the line. You did love him, probably more now than you ever had. Everything was just so messy, it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. 

“Bye Darling.” Your mum replied. “I love you too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“My babies!!” Janeen Seresin was in Jake's opinion, one of those women who never should have had kids, let alone four of them. Jake was the youngest of four Seresin children and the only boy. His father, Rodney, was a hard task master who no matter what Jake accomplished in his career or personal life, never seemed to be proud of the man he had become. 

“Hi Ma.” There was a pretty simple explanation for that, Jake never took a beating without getting a few punches in himself. He wasn't the kind of guy who you could beat into submission even as a teen. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Jacob oh my boy it's so good to see you.” Janeen took her youngest child in her arms in the threshold of the Sersein estate. Lavish gardens surrounded the old exposed red brick home that had been in the Seresin family for generations. Jake knew when his parents died it wasn't going to him, but to his eldest sister Julies. “Come in come in! You guys must be so tired after your flight.” 

Jake, despite being a fighter pilot who had flown some of the most suicidal missions, was a nervous flyer when he wasn’t in total control. Commercial flying wasn't something he typically enjoyed. It made him anxious at the best of times and whenever he added his children to the mix he was sure that the way his heart pounded inside his chest during takeoff was early signs of an underlying genetic heart condition he probably inherited from his father. 

“The kids are definitely a little tired, I think Sam's ears haven't really pooped either.” Jake cooed as he and his kids entered the house Jake grew up in, the overly eccentric, far too big, the annoyingly in your face house he knew you always hated. It always seemed to exemplify the two worlds you and Jake grew up in as children. 

“Grandma!” Lucy interrupted. “Mum said that Santa will know exactly where we are if we put out cookies and milk for him and carrots for his reindeer like we do at home.” Janeen chuckled at her granddaughter as Jake placed Sam on the ground to walk off with his brother to explore the mansion style home that was far bigger than the one they were used to. 

“Your mother would still have you doing those silly little things wouldn't she?” Jake bit his tongue as he watched his mother soothe a hand over his daughter's head. “Of course we can put out cookies and milk, but if I get ants you better be ready to clean them up little miss.” Lucy simply smiled and nodded in response, the dig had gone right over her six year old head. 

“God Ma you'd think you never had kids of your own before.” Jake argued in an attempt to remind his mum that his kids were only young. The magic of Christmas was important to you and him. “I'm sure Santa won't leave cookie crumbs all over the house.”  

“Santa isn't who I’m worried about making a mess–” Janeen tried to say the loud things quiet while around Jake's children, but the intent in her words was still as loud and as obnoxious as ever. “How is your mother Lulu? I’m sorry she won’t be joining us for Christmas and new years.” 

“She’s been sick the past few weeks.” Jake frowned at his mothers smile, she left little to the imagination about her opinion of you. “But she’s better now.” Jake wasn't so sure of the statement his daughter made, the way you were only on your knees this morning throwing up into the toilet bowl made him frown in response. Jake had this gut feeling he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried not to think about it. Was something wrong with you? Like, more than just a long winded flu? Who even gets the flu for three weeks these days? 

“Oh I’m sure she is dear, right before her big trip away hey?” Ever since you and Jake separated, Janeen Seresin had been pushing for Jake to file for divorce and full custody. No one got to leave her perfect angel boy. In her eyes Jake could do no wrong, he was her angel, her precious baby boy that no woman could ever be good enough for. 

“Yeah! She’s going to the snow with a bunch of her friends Grandma.” Lucy replied, she didn’t understand her grandmother’s resentments just yet. That or it went right over the little girl's head, either way Jake was thankful for her innocence. 

“Oh I know your dads told me all about your mothers grand plans.” Janeen rolled her eyes pretty heavily at the idea you were off whoring yourself out on a ski trip out of the country while her son was tasked with looking after the three children you had with him. 

“Ma, drop it will you?” Jake urged. “She’s allowed to go away for the holidays, she’s pretty much had the kids all year.”

“And why is that?” Janeen retaliated as little Lucy walked off to find her brothers. Jake followed his mother into the dining room where festive decorations dressed the dining table. Perfectly set and prepared. A stark contrast to your old chipped four seater dining table that had soggy cheerios spilled on the top just this morning. Jake much preferred the cheerio-covered table to his mothers perfectly decorated one. 

Fuck, Jake thought to himself the more he looked around. His kids were about to mess this place up. He knew deep down that would bring you a little solace. You knew Janeen was sour on you. The idea of the kids making her life just a little more chaotic would normally make you chuckle.

“Because I live and work in North Island now, I don’t have the proper work schedule to take three kids on by myself.” That was the appropriate and only answer, but Jake knew his mother saw it differently. “I don't have to means to look after them myself–Y/n does, we both agreed on that when he split.” 

“She’s keeping those kids away from you sweetheart.” Jake couldn’t have rolled his eyes harder if he tried, he’d been home for all of what? five minutes and already his mum was disrespecting you. “You don’t see those kids nearly as much as you should and it’s her—“

“Don’t you think that’s more on me then it is on her?” Jake argued back. “Come on ma you know exactly why we separated, I wasn’t putting in what she was giving and it damn near killed her. The last thing she needs is a custody battle.” 

“What you ever saw in that woman I’ll never understand sweetheart.” Janeen cooed as she reached up to touch her son's cheek. “I always knew she was never good enough for my baby boy.” 

Jake wanted to argue, he really did, but it was Christmas and his entire family would soon be filling the Seresin estate. So Jake pressed his lips together and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his mothers head. He didn’t want to ruin yet another family holiday. He didn’t want to be dubbed the family disappointment because of his separation. Although he knew that's exactly what he was. 

He just wanted to be loved. And at this point Jake was gonna take that love whenever the hell he could get it from. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Y/n–” At first you didn't respond, but as your mother shook you as you slept on the lounge and called your name a few more times, you finally woke up. “Y/n, babe jesus have you been asleep since we got off the phone.?” It took you a moment to come back into your body as you wiped the dry drool that had leaked from your mouth onto your cheek. The discombobulation was clearly evident to your mother as she stepped back a little to give you some space. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mumbled as you sat up. “I'm just really–” The all too familiar feeling of bile rising came hard and came quickly. “Oh god mum, get me a bucket!” The look of panic written in the tired lines on your face was enough for your mum to realise what was going on. 

“Oh shit hang on.” Your mother hurried into the laundry nearby and searched high and low for something you could use, but you decided soon thereafter that it was quicker if you booked it into the kitchen and puke right into the kitchen sink. “Y/n! Oh god are you alright darling?” 

For a single mother of two children, yourself and your older brother Carson, your mother did alright for the hand she was dealt. On the younger side, your mother always seemed a little ‘Childish’ in her nature and mannerisms. But she was your mum and you wouldn’t change her for anything. 

“I'm fine–I just–” You couldn't keep anything down to save your life right now, so when your body wanted to expel any form of bile it was just stomach acid and remnants of whatever you had most recently eaten. Your mother did her best to comfort you as you coughed and splatted your gagged in the kitchen sink for dear life, she could tell your body was weaker than it ever had been just from the way you trembled under her touch. 

It broke her heart to see you like this, so sick and fragile. You did well to hide it though, for what it was worth she thought you looked relatively healthy still. But it was still early on in your journey. 

“I'm so scared mum.” You cried out through gags as you stayed bent over the sink coughing and crying. This wasn’t fair, you had a family to think of, kids to watch grow, a husband to hopefully fall in love with all over again. How could whatever god was up there do this to you? Why did this happen? Why you? What had you done so wrong to deserve this untimely fate?

“It's okay I've got you baby.” Your mother cooed as she rubbed circles into your back with her open palm. “Im here, I’ve got you now, let's get you ready to go up to the hospital hey, you wanna take a shower or?” 

“Let me just brush my teeth–” You sighed as you spat into the sink to clear your throat. “I should ring Jake, make sure they got in safe.” 

“I'm sure they’re just fine, he’d call if there was a problem, let's just focus on you for once.” You didn't want to feel like you were neglecting your children but you already felt like you were. They were your entire world, putting yourself first just wasn't in your nature. But as you thought about calling, thought about just sending a text, you looked at your phone to see a missed call from Jake about twenty minutes prior and a few text to follow. 

:Lover: “Kids and I are here safe, ma’s on her fuck the ex campain already and dads nowhere to be seen.” 

:Lover: “Hope you're enjoying your kid free afternoon, safe flight tonight, text me when you get into Calgary.” 

You couldn't help but to smile as you pocketed your phone, you'd call Jake later once you were settled into your hospital room. Right now you just needed to finish packing, brush your teeth and get over to the hospital for your admission time. 

“He loves you so much.” Your mother reminded you as she followed you up to your room to help you finish packing. 

“I know he does.” You really weren't in the mood to be discussing the state of your marriage right now. “He deserves better, someone not riddled with cancer cells.” 

“Is that why you won't even consider the idea of getting back together?” Your mother was nearly flawed when you silently nodded in return. “Y/n, don't you dare–” Again, you didn't want to talk about it. Between Jake's mother not being your number one stan and your mother playing devil's advocate what seemed to be twenty four seven, you were just over everyone having an opinion. 

“Mum! He didn't care about me enough when I was healthy and happy and his wife! What makes you think he’ll care now that I’m literally dying!” You shouted as you threw a pair of extra soaks into your luggage bag. “It's not fair, none of this is, but I left him well before I got sick and me getting sick doesn't change the reason I left.” 

Your mother didn’t respond, all she did was stare at you worryingly from across your bedroom room in silence. It looked as if she was trying to figure something out, read your face, understand what was going on. Then, after a few short moments of silence she spoke. 

“Your father and I went through something very similar before he died.” Your parents had been divorced for three years before your dad died in an awfully unexpected car accident. It shattered your mum, you knew it did. “We never did get to a point where we could resolve our differences.” She explained softly as she walked over to help you pack the last few items. You let her help you fold some T-shirts, Jake's old T-shirts, as she spoke. “This past year watching you and Jake go around in circles about how much you both still love each other and how desperately he's willing to change in order to keep you is so infuriating because you, my baby girl, have already decided you're not worth loving because you’re unfortunately going through something I can't even begin to comprehend.” 

“He couldn't love me before mum.” You simply sighed in defeat, god it was like you were going around and around on a ferris wheel. “What makes you think this changes anything?” 

“That man has never stopped loving you Y/n, he just got a little lost, we all do.” 

“If you had a chance would you take dad back?” It was a question you'd never asked before purely because you were afraid the answer would be no. now? As you tried to navigate the best thing to do for yourself, you desperately hoped the answer would be yes. Perhaps then you wouldn't feel so torn about hating to love Jake Seresin and his ability to captivate your entire being. 

“Without a shadow of a doubt my dear.” You’d never seen your mother have to hold back tears so hard before in your life. She was watching her only daughter go through a battle she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy as well as trying to help you through your separation. Although sometimes unwarranted and unsolicited, she was still your mother. 

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes

[vcrooster]

Cherry Flavored

Smut & Some Angst.

Paring: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw & Reader (call sign: Cherry)

Word count: 4 k

Summary: All that Rooster needed to do was let out some steam.

Authors note: I don’t even know how I came up with this but I hope you like it <3. If you guys have any ideas you would like me to right about I’m all open for some requests.

***

Rooster didn’t even notice his arms were feeling sore until he was in the showers. He could hear the mix of all of the other guys voices, and all of them came to the same conclusion. Maverick had kicked everyone’s ass.

Including him. Twice.

He was so mad at himself. He should’ve taken the damn shot.

And fucking Coyote flirting with you since the call back isn’t really letting him be at his fullest.

You always politely declined him. Politely as in you said no thank you and he took it as a try harder.

And every time it took everything in Rooster not to tell him off.

All of the whistles had made him turn his head towards the door. “If it ain’t Cherry and Phoenix” Hangman said when saw you walk in the room.

The collar of your shirt still had sweat around it and your suit was half way undone.

You were one of the two female pilots that were recalled to Top Gun. Most of the time you got treated as equals, but they were moments like this where the guys were just being stupid.

You lock eyes with Rooster. He doesn’t hold it for more than a couple of seconds. “Don’t worry lady’s, we are out of here”. Hangman says, you are actually grateful that they’ve respected your privacy. “Showers are all yours”.

He seems irritated and upset. You can’t do anything about it right now, not in front of everyone.

You started to fool around with him a couple a years ago. Sneaking around, just letting some steam off was the whole purpose of it.

It wasn’t your intention to grow feelings for him. You both stayed together for the holidays, neither of you had families to go back to, so you kept each other company.

Rooster sure wasn’t expecting to find himself asking for you to give him a chance.

But how couldn’t he. Rooster was crazy over you.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual. You didn’t want to risk a transfer to a different unit. Truth is you guys were a good team in the air, and you couldn’t trust anybody else to not get you killed up there.

“Come on Rooster, don’t try to get lucky” Harvard patted him on the back before leaving the room, without of course giving you a last glance.

“Are you messing around with Rooster?” Phoenix asked with a smirk on her face once they were alone.

“What?” No, no, no, she doesn’t know. “I’m not messing around with nobody”.

“You don’t sound so sure” she teases.

“Oh shut up”.

You feel somewhat unsteady when you get the sensation that she isn’t joking around. Shit, Phoenix is like a sister to Bradley, of course she’s going to know when something is off about him.

“Coyote and Hangman would be terribly heartbroken” honestly starts feeling like she is trying to get something out of you. “I can’t blame you though”.

Hangman would never admit to it sober, but during a late night drunk conversation with Phoenix it had slipped his mouth how he saw you almost naked in the showers.

It was an accident, genuinely.

He wasn’t a pervert he had just been stupid enough to forget his keys under his spare shirt in his locker.

Now maybe he wasn’t a good team player but he was sure a gentleman, nobody but Phoenix knew about it.

The image of you getting undressed had been the only thing helping him get off for the next week or so. He never made a move on you in a serious type of manner; however, he would occasionally flirt when he got a little too cocky.

“Whatever”. You answer.

You ignore her comments and head to take a shower. The warm water felt delicious over your skin. The training today has been hard— embarrassing you would say. You are supposed to be the best of the best, and here comes this guy that took everyone down with little to no effort.

But the 200 push-ups under the California sun were the worst part of it all. You really don’t want to complain, because Rooster had to do double of that.

You make sure to get done before Phoenix is. You hurry to your small designated room before she asks more questions and you get too annoyed at her.

It’s an hour till midnight when you go to Rooster’s room. You decided it was better to give him some time to cool off before you checked up on him.

“Hey” he doesn’t say anything he just moves aside to make room for you to come in.

You watch him walk back and take a seat at the edge of his bed. His face is painted with exhaustion, he’s still upset for what you could tell.

Your hand drops on his shoulder when you sit next to him, trying to give him some sort of comfort. “It’s alright Rooster, he smoked everyone else out there”.

“He pulled my papers”.

“What? Maverick?” You knew he had a rattle going on with him but he never mentioned why.

“He pulled my application on the naval academy” his voice was a mix of gloom and anger. “Set me back four years”.

“What you did today, you could’ve got yourself kicked out” You know how he lets anger blind him. He’s just a guy that lets his emotions get the best of him.

“Don’t worry about it—“

“I am” You slightly raise your voice, You’re not going to sit there letting him pity himself. Bradley is a great pilot he just needs to loosen up a little. “You can’t leave us flying with Hangman”.

“I’m sorry” he finally looks at you, you feel the palm of his hand gently squeeze your inner thigh.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me, I just want you to prove him wrong”.

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before leaning in, pressing his lips sweetly against yours.

They stay still for a second and pulls back, pressing his forehead on your own. You know that no matter how much time goes by, he’ll always be breathtaking to you.

You are the one that decides to make the next move. Wanting to make him feel good, help him relax a little. You move your lips gradually over his without any intention at first.

Slowly as you deepen the kiss you straddle his lap, his fingers immediately dig in the skin of your hips holding you steady, knowing your next move.

He knows it’s a bad idea to fuck you in the dorm rooms, shit, Yale and Coyote were sleeping in the rooms next to his, maybe he wouldn’t mind finally putting and end to Coyote insistence on you, but he knew it wasn’t the place or time.

Your fingers slide into his golden hair when his tongue meets yours. He isn’t trying to get carried away but he can help to get rid of your shirt completely when your hand gets lost inside his boxers.

His hands are roaming from your waist to your breasts. He covers them with his hands, squeezing them softly earning a moan from you.

It’s all it took for him to return to his senses.

“Wait, wait, babe wait” he sounds rushed as he’s trying to catch his breath again. “We can’t, not here”.

“Just relax” You shushed him.

“They’re going to hear us”. He’s doing his best to be the nice guy and stop you, but he’s had a shitty day and the idea of intimacy with his girl, was sounding very good at the moment.

He’s looking at you with expectant eyes, that’s all you need for you to kneel in front of him and tug the waistband of his boxers.

“You just gotta make sure you're very quiet then”.

Once your hand is around his cock he lets out a shaky breath. You work your hand along his shaft and seconds later his hand is on top of your own, guiding the speed. “A little slower”. The breathes out.

You do as he says. Your thumb brushes against his tip a couple of times, gaining a sigh from him. God, you love the sounds he makes.

“Feeling better?” You let out a giggle with a soft smile.

“Fuck yes” he groans.

You wrap your lips on him without warning, he throws back his head, hissing and moaning your name in what sounded like a whisper.

His fingers get tangled in your hair carefully undoing the tie holding your ponytail up. He has always loved you with your hair down. But what he loves the most is when he can just take it in a fistful for himself to guide your movements.

“You always take me so good baby” he grunts.

Rooster looks down on you. His eyes trail to your arched back and those boy shorts that barely covered your ass, all he can think is how good it looks from where he’s at.

That sight alone makes him lose his mind in between gasps and groans. It’s always so difficult for him to maintain eye contact when you always look so perfect. And it’s all just for him.

He moans getting all caught up in the moment, you don’t even pay attention to the tears forming in the corner of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat.

Your tongue swirls around his tip and your hand works on whatever you mouth can’t reach. He hissed pushing the hair off your forehead. “Fuck”.

His eyes meet yours right before he’s about to cum. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth slightly opened. He pulls himself out and next thing you feel is the warm strings covering your cleavage.

It takes a moment for him to compose his breath, meanwhile you clean yourself with the towel sitting on the chair next to his bed.

He tucks himself back in his boxers. He shifts in his twin size bed, lifting his body on his elbows.

He gets lost looking at the cherry tattoo on your shoulder, the reason you earned your call sign. He lets out a smirk remembering the time you were drunk and complaining that you wanted your call sign to be Echo, not the stupid tattoo you got when you’d just turned 18.

“Hey…” he reaches out for you making you fall on his lap.

You know he wants to return the favor when he turns you under him and starts kissing you hard. Fingers start to play on the waistband of your shorts teasing you. But you're not falling for it.

His lips trail off down your neck where he nips on the skin of your collar bones. “Oh no Bradshaw, I have to go”.

He yanks his head up looking a little lost. He completely forgot he was the one trying to stop you all along.

“Come on, just stay for a little bit”.

You smile at his childish actions. You know if you stay in his room you're ending up getting tangled in his sheets and to be honest it hasn’t been long since you guys had sex.

Truth is you ended up fucking him in some random motel after his little preformance in the Hard Deck.

“Unless you want to explain to Cyclone, why was I in your room all night Lieutenant Bradshaw” He smiles playfully kissing your jaw and lastly he leaves a soft kiss on your lips.

“I think I’m good on that one”.

“I thought so too”

You leave before it gets any later than it already is.

You hope that’s enough to get him off his thoughts for a bit– and a better mood.

And it works for what you could tell. It was all going alright but when it was his turn to do the exercise Maverick wasn’t exactly too constructive about it.

The best way to describe today’s training was no other than a shit show.

Maverick and Rooster had put on one hell of a performance in front of everyone. But what tied it all together was Hangman’s comments on Rooster's dad. To be more specific how he passed flying with Maverick.

“Hey!”. You yell at Hangman before he turns the corner.

“Cherry” He sighs “Your pretty little face is becoming more annoying every–“ you slap him across his face, you’d like to say you stopped there but before he could steady himself you push him against the wall. “Ouch”.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” your voice comes out more broken than strong. “His problems aren’t for you to broadcast in front of everyone”.

“Is it getting too personal with Rooster?”. He sounds pretty cynical and that smile painted across his face only made you angrier. “Because I have to say I thought I was more of your type”.

“You’re such a fucking asshole Jake”.

“Lighten up Cherry, Jesus”. He winks not before looking at you up and down. “I’m feeling a little jealous”.

“I swear–“

“Guys just stop” Phoenix interrupted you both before the situation escalated.

As soon as she says that you’re on your way to Bradley’s dorm. Phoenix tries to stop you to try and calm the situación down but it honestly comes out as more annoying than helpful.

You’re only knocking a couple of times on his door before he opens it.

His suit is half way undone, the arms are wrapped around his waist and he’s still clearly mad about the whole situation.

His eyes don’t soften as they usually do when he looks at you. In fact his hand is wrapped around your arm pulling you into his room.

“I’m so fucking over this shit” He tells you before you could say anything. “What does he fucking want me to do?”.

“Rooster…” he lets you reach out for his shoulder. You don’t want to say anything, he can be a real hothead when he’s mad, and honestly he’s had enough for today.

“And Hangman, fuck–“ He’s clearly very frustrated, you get, he’s feeling cornered and embarrassed, damn he almost hit the guy in front of the whole group.

“I slapped him just minute ago” you say and he chuckles slightly, the last reaction you thought you’d get from him right.

You hand finds his squeezing it gently.

He allows himself to relax a little. It’s just you, it’s always alright when he's with you.

He joins your lips with his before he thinks too much about it. He presses your back against the wood of the door, taking you by surprise. It takes you a moment to respond and sync up with his pace.

His lips feel rough over yours– desperate would be a better way to describe it. But he’s hurt, you at least could attempt to try and talk to him.

“Hey, we should –“ His head shakes denying anything you’re trying to say to him. He quickly shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours, harder this time. His tongue finds its way inside your mouth and you can’t help but to moan into his. “Rooster”.

He wants a distraction. And to be honest you could use one too. There was no point in resisting him.

The way you kiss him is almost in unspoken agreement between both of you. Your hands immediately shoot to his hair and down his neck.

“I need you baby”. He whispers on your skin. Shit alright.

Your hands start to untie the arms of his suit pulling it all the way down.

He straightens you up and his lips are on your neck, he nips the skin from that area until he manages to get a whimper out of your mouth. He smiles trying to catch a breath.

You push him off until the back of his knees hits his bed. He falls into the mattress lifting himself with his elbows. He looks at you impatiently for your next move.

You have to say the part you love the most of fucking with Rooster is the constant fight of who’s in charge.

And honestly Bradley can’t get enough of it either. The only thing rolling on his mind is how hot you look trying to handle him.

And shit, you looked even better stripping in front of him right now.

His gaze doesn’t leave you a single time. It follows you undoing your boots but he’s most excited when you slowly start to unzip your suit.

He reaches out to you trying to help you finish the job but he only gets pushed back into the mattress.

“Not yet” there is a small grin forming on his face by watching you step out of your suit. His eyes trail from your legs to your face. You’d stop being shy and nervous around him from the first couple of times sleeping with him. Fuck, you weren’t fully undressed and there he was hard as rock inside of his boxers.

You crawl over him and he still doesn't dare to touch you, his eyes never leave your own. You could still perceive a hint of the scent of musk and vanilla on him. Your knees stop when they reach his lap and you settle right on top of his cock.

“You’re going to have to give me a little more than that sweetheart” You chuckle having fun with him. Your palm pushes his chest down, you slowly start grinding on him, having him hiss right away “There we go”. Rooster groans.

You finally feel his tight grip on your hips making your pace faster. His hands trail up your sides lifting your shirt all the way up your rib cage until it’s off your body. The palm of his hand slides from your bellybutton to your breast squeezing and kneading them.

“Shit” he chokes out. He pulls you down, meeting him in a messy kiss. “I want to fuck you so badly already”.

He quickly puts on one of the condoms in his night stand before his mind drifts anywhere else.

“That eager Bradshaw?” that’s all it takes for him to hook his hands on the back of your thighs. He lifted you without a problem and in a second he had your back against the wall.

“You have no idea” He grinds a couple of more times on you adjusting your thighs around his waist making sure he has you how he wants you. “Hold tight babe”.

He stretched his neck up to keep his lips against yours moaning against them as he slammed into you again.

You are the one that guides him inside you, having you both gasp at the new sensation. Almost right away he is pounding hard into you leaving no time for you to adjust to him.

You have to steady yourself on his shoulders when you feel him go deeper. He bites the skin of your collarbone softly passing the tip of his tongue over it. He's always careful not to leave any sort of marks on you but this time he didn’t even care.

He gripped your thighs tightly when you clenched around him as the tip of his cock kept brushing on your sweet spot.

“Holy fuck–“ you say breathlessly.

He knows that you guys aren’t loud enough for someone else to hear. But he can’t help to like the thought of you moaning his name for everyone to hear that you're his.

Your face hides in the crook of his neck leaving open mouth kisses along it, loving the sensation of his moans vibrating against his throat.

Your eyes glide down taking a look at where your bodies are joined. The pleasure building inside you starts to feel a little overwhelming, your thighs tense up and your forehead ends up resting over his “Rooster”. It comes out more like a plead than you intended and it drives him crazy.

“I know baby”. He whispers.

He jerks you up in a sudden move, his arm on your waist holding you tighter against him. He’s thrusting faster and harder than before. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder blades in an attempt to hold on to him as best as you can.

It almost feels as if he is pulling out completely as he slams as deep and hard as he can into you.

You got so lost into him that you almost didn’t realize that you were about to cum. “Are you almost there?” He asks and you can bring yourself to answer so the only response you can give him is a desperate whimper.

He pounds a few more times and it finally explodes on you. He’s kissing you to drown the moans you're making. And he keeps doing it while he’s finally coming. It hits him harder than he thought it would, he feels like he's melting into you.

You take a moment to look at him. You’re sure he’s the most handsome guy you’ve seen in your life. God, you’re so in love with him.

You stay with him until he falls asleep. He usually doesn’t sleep very well but his soft snoring filled the room not too long after.

You leave his room making sure to set his alarm for the morning.

It wasn’t late so seeing Maverick waiting outside your door didn’t surprise you that much.

“Lieutenant Metcalf” You felt he was angry. Part of you was glad he wasn’t disappointed.

You’ve known him for a long time, your grandfather was his instructor when he was in Top Gun. You’d occasionally check on him throughout the years but never were exactly close to him, not like he is– or was– with Rooster.

“Are you here to lecture me?” You weren’t intending to come out as defensive as you did.

“No, but it’s not that hard to put one and two together”. He’s still irritated from training and you can’t blame him. “I should kick one of you off the team” his arms were crossed over his chest.

The thing about Maverick is that you knew no matter how bad his ass was in the line he would always have the back of the people he loved.

“Are you?” He tried to ignore the obvious fact that you look like you just got fucked despite your efforts of trying to clean your self up.

“That’s up to you”. His voice got softer. “Get some rest Cherry”.

“Yes sir”.

Contrary to Rooster, you kept tossing and turning in the bed all night. Your mind just kept on wandering off to what could happen to Bradley and you once Maverick was out of the picture.

You really didn’t want to think of the possibility of not flying with him anymore.

Best thing for now is to keep your hands off each other and hope for the best.

That was until you were headed to the beach the very next day and the hickeys on your tits were very visible with the sports bra you were planning to wear.

You would’ve gotten away with the simple white shirt you used as your cover up if Coyote and Hangman hadn't decided to be funny and pulled you and Phoenix to the water making your shirt very see through.

“Damn Cherry, you should've told me I was being too hard last night”. Jake pointed out sarcastically at the now visible dark marks on your chest. “You know how much I hate putting on a show”.

“I bet you do Hangman” Rooster said, coming up towards you, helping you out of the water and draping his hawaiian shirt on your shoulders and wrapping one of his hands on your waist lifting you to his side.

He didn’t care that all eyes were on you guys, but shit, Cyclone didn’t have to show up right at that moment.

You knew you were fucked when he whispered to Maverick.

“What’s going on with those two?” He pointed out to both of you.

“They must be very competitive sir”.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

[wannabeschyulersister]

rooster’s girl

The Hard Deck was packed for a random Wednesday night. The jukebox was blasting. People were everyone having a great time. You spent the most of your night by the pool table with the rest of the crew. It had been a tough week thus far. Normally, you’d all get together at the end of the week.

The exception was made since you all were super stressed.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You told Phoenix. You’d been watching her play against Payback for a bit now. It was widely entertaining.

“Wait, I’ll come with.” She started to set her pool stick down but you stopped her. Phoenix always tagged along for bathroom trips. Most of the time she didn’t even have to go.

“You’re about to kick Payback’s ass. I’m fine on my own. Plus, you don’t want him to skip out on the money he’s going to owe you…..again.”

Phoenix glared at him from across the pool table, “You’re right. Hurry back.”

You gave her a supportive pat on the shoulder before you left to the bathroom. Little did you know, someone else from the group watched you make your way to the back.

Thankfully, the bathrooms weren’t packed. You did your business, washed your hands and checked your appearance quickly in the mirror before leaving.

As you re-entered the rowdy bar, you felt someone grab your hand. It was a random guy at a table near the back. He looked really tipsy.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a girl like you doing alone at a place like this?”

You snatched your hand away from him, “I’m not alone.”

“I don’t see a ring on your pretty finger. Why don’t you come have a seat with me.” He reached and grabbed you by the arm this time. His hands were rough and gave you the absolute creeps.

You knew that you could beat the shit out of this guy easily. He was intoxicated. It wouldn’t be that hard. One push and he’d been sprawled out on the floor.

Hangman tapped Rooster on the back near the pool tables. “Looks like your girl is in a little trouble.”

Rooster immediately looked at the direction Hangman was pointing at. He also knew exactly who he was referring to.

He saw you with that creepy guy’s hand still on you. Rooster rushed over, blood pumping hot in his veins. He rudely bumped into a couple of people but he’d go and apologize for it later.

When he reached you, he grabbed your arm that wasn’t currently being pulled by that asshole.

You knew who was touching you without even looking. The mild panic that you were feeling all went away just by Rooster’s appearance.

“Get you hand off of her before I rip your fucking arm out of the socket.” Rooster warned the guy. He was absolutely pissed.

The drunk idiot took his hand off of you, “I was just trying to have some fun.”

“Not with my girl, asshole. Get the hell out of here before I embarrass you in front of all of these people by kicking your pathetic ass out.” Rooster threatened him. The guy was smart and got up without saying another word.

“Are you alright?” Rooster asked you. He no longer looked angry. Now, he was concerned about how you were.

You nodded a little, “I’m okay. Are you?”

Rooster scoffed a little playfully, “You were just harassed by a scumbag and you want to know if I’m okay. You’re always thinking about everyone else.”

“I wasn’t just the one that threatened to rip a guy’s arm out of his socket.”

“I just wanted him to get his hands off of-“

“Your girl?”

Rooster hoped that you wouldn’t mention that part. It just slipped out. You honestly never heard him say it before. You didn’t hate it. You actually really liked those two words coming out of his mouth.

The normally confident Bradley Bradshaw was now a blushing mess. “I uh- I’m sorry if that was weird or made you uncomfortable. It just slipped out and-“

You grabbed his sunglasses that were hanging on the front of his shirt and put them on, “No need to be embarrassed, Bradshaw. I liked it.”

Rooster fought the smile that wanted to present itself on his face, “You did?”

“Yeah, I did. Being Bradley Bradshaw’s girl sounds kind of nice. Does it come with any perks?” You took a step closer to him. He reacted by placing a hand on your waist.

“I make a mean stack of pancakes. You’d always have a karaoke partner. Also,” he leaned close, his lips brushed your ear a little causing shivers to run down your spine, “I don’t mind being the little spoon sometimes.”

That made you giggle. Never did you imagine that Rooster would be the little spoon in a cuddling situation. That was something that you’d have to see to believe.

“Well, that’s a good thing because I don’t mind being the big spoon sometimes.”

Rooster smirked and you caught him staring at your lips. “Should we get out of here?”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar. You both didn’t miss the cheers from your friends back at the pool table.

[mothdruid]

Home for the Holidays

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: Bradley might have lied about having a girlfriend. His best friend, you, decide to help him out and go home for the holidays with him. As the trip unfolds, so does your and Bradley's feelings for one another.

wc: 19.2k

warning: 18+, mdni, fluff, mild angst, smut, slow burn, pet names (babe), fake dating, kissing, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (afab receiving), vaginal fingering, drinking (reader gets drunk), crying, bob being a good friend

a/n: hello! it's finally here!!!! thank you all for being patient with me while i finished this up

"You did what?" It was shocking, hearing Bradley word vomit every bad decision he made in the past two days. Seeming as how they all included you without your knowledge.

"It was an accident." Bradley said, lips in a slight downturn as he wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. 

"That is not an accident, Bradley. It's a fucking lie." You looked at him in disbelief. This was much much worse than just an accident. You turned and started walking away from him, but alas, he followed you. 

"It's not like you're doing anything for the holidays." Bradley pleaded. 

"You don't know that." You arrived at your office, sitting in your desk chair quickly.  

"Actually, I do ‘cause you told me last week you were planning on staying at home, getting wine drunk while watching Face Off." You glared at him, hating the fact he had such an impeccable memory. Bradley leaned against your desk, staring down at you while adjusting his reading glasses. 

"I'm not your girlfriend though. How will your family feel when they find that out?" Bradley rolled his eyes. He made a wave of his hand in the air.

"They won't find out. Come on, we both took intro to acting in college, it won't be hard to fake it." 

"Bradley, what did you tell them? Like explain it all word for word." 

"Already did tha-"

"No, you word vomited." He huffed this time. 

"Fine. Mav asked me if I was bringing anyone home. I told him I wasn't sure if I was coming home. Amelia then teased me about being alone and maybe my pride got the best of me." It was your turn to let out a huff. 

"That's an understatement." 

"So, then I said that I would be coming home, and bringing my girlfriend." Bradley looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

"Which is apparently me." You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back into your chair. 

"Yes." A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"You owe me a big favor if I do this." Bradley smiled at your reply.

“I’ll do all your extra paperwork for a month.” The offer was tempting, but you knew it wouldn’t fully make up for this. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t know Bradley’s family, or at least what he had left of it. His biological parents had passed away when he was young, leaving his god-parents to take care of him. You had met Pete and Penny during your college graduation. They were extremely kind people, inviting you out for a celebration dinner afterwards. But that was partially why you were nervous, they knew you on a surface level. 

You had never met Amelia, only hearing about her through Bradley and seeing pictures. Bradley adored the girl, talking about her like a sister. Which wasn’t too far off. It was his god-daughter. Reminding you that Bradley’s ‘family’ wasn’t his biological family, not that it made a difference. They treated him as if he was their own, which was all that mattered. 

“Bradley, I’ll have to think about it.” 

After a few days to mull it over you decided to go. Even making a pros and cons list to help you decide. Bradley was ecstatic, sending you back a thumbs up and smiley blushing emoji. He then sent you a longer text explaining the plans for the trip. 

The office would close on the 22nd of December, allowing you guys to fly out on the 23rd. Then you wouldn’t be returning home until December 31st. You two would be flying out to Michigan, the state where Penny and Pete had raised Bradley. Which also happened to be where the two of you attended university together. It was truly a beautiful state, one that you missed a little bit. The winters were something you never fully got used to, but who ever gets used to a winter like that. 

-

The plane ride to Michigan wasn’t bad, only a two hour flight. Bradley picked up a rental car after landing so the two of you would be able to drive wherever. Pete and Penny lived around where ‘up north’ started. It was a smaller town close to the city you two went to university at. So, it was pertinent that the two of you had a car to go places whenever you wanted. The two of you loaded your luggage into the back of the car, silently praising that Bradley was smart enough to get an SUV for the trip. You made sure you grab your blanket out of your bag before settling into the passenger seat. 

“Two hours?” You asked while you placed your blanket over your legs. 

“It’s the same drive from when we were in college.” Bradley stated as he sat in the driver seat, placing the key in the ignition. You adjusted your heating settings, switching your side to max heat while Bradley adjusted his to a low heat. 

“Bradley, it’s been years since I’ve been here.” He relaxed back into the seat, shifting the gear in the center console before leaving the lot. You watched as he smiled and used one hand on the wheel, the other still resting on the gear. 

“This will be a fun refresher trip then.” Bradley said as he looked at you before focusing back on the road. 

“There is a reason why I left Michigan, you too.” White man-made hills of snow were everywhere, reminding you of your university years. The years when you and Bradley became friends. You had thought that moving to Michigan for college wouldn’t be bad, it only being four years. But you were wrong. The winters there were cold and wet, making you a hermit for almost half the year.

“The snow isn’t that bad.” You pulled your black and grey heathered beanie off your head and tossed it on your side of the dashboard. There was an odd flutter when you looked at him, his smile seeming brighter than normal.

“You say that because you grew up here.” You pointed at him, a mocking grimace on your face. Bradley chuckled at your look, swatting your finger away. 

“What? Afraid we might get stuck in the freezing cold?” You pulled the blanket up over your arms and chest, rolling your eyes at his question. “Can you pull up the GPS, maybe connect your phone to the car for music too?” 

“Am I gonna have to take requests?” You raised an eyebrow at him. Bradley’s lips quirked to one side as you started to fiddle with the touch screen in the rental. 

“Honestly, as long as you get the directions pulled up I’ll let you listen to whatever.” Bradley said as he finally made it onto the freeway. A part of you wondered why he even needed the GPS working when it was a straight shot. That was one you enjoyed about Michigan, I-75. The freeway that could take you all the way from Canada to Florida. It was practically the straight shot to anywhere in Michigan, except the western side of the state and most of the upper peninsula. But you indulged him, pulling the GPS up. 

“So, are there any specific plans for the holidays?” You put your music on shuffle, keeping it at a low volume. Bradley shrugged. 

“All I’m really aware of is Christmas Eve and Christmas day. They know we are heading out on New Year’s eve. But we might have a gathering during the week.” You laid your seat back a little bit, getting more comfortable as Bradley stayed focused on the road. 

“I’ll assume that Christmas Eve and Christmas are gonna be with the family. But what are we doing during the week? Besides lounging of course.” There were a few thumps as Bradley hit some classic Michigan potholes. 

“Of course. We are having a little get together.” Bradley muttered. You could tell he was hiding something. 

“Bradley, don’t lie to me anymore.” You squinted at him. Bradley brought a hand to the back of his neck, scratching awkwardly and the crunch of the material of his winter coat drowned out the music. 

“I uh.. I might have agreed to a little college reunion with the gang.” College reunion? With ‘the gang’? That wasn’t what you signed up for. You had signed up for hot cocoa and presents with his family, being awkwardly teased about a relationship that didn’t exist. Faking a relationship in front of their friends wasn’t in the deal. You shot up out of your seat, turning to face him better.

“You what? Bradley! I’m not doing this,” you gestured between the two of you, “in front of them.” Bradley’s face scrunched up as he looked at you. You swatted at his arm, earning a fake yelp from him as he pulled away from you. 

“Hey! I’m driving!” 

“Crash the car now then! They can’t think we are together!” Bradley rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not crashing the car, it’s a rental. Plus, it’s not like Hangman doesn’t already think that.” You let out a huff while the car went over another pothole.

“Jake can’t know about this little deal we have. He’d get off on it too much.” 

“Well, none of them have to know about it. We can keep it a secret.” Another pothole. You turned the music up then curled back up into your seat. You knew that was too hopeful, everyone of your friends would know immediately. Especially Bob and Natasha. Bradley focused back on the road after he made sure you were done arguing. 

He knew why you wouldn’t want the group to think you two were dating, many of them having bet money on your relationship status every year of university. But Jake had always been the most relentless. Bradley decided to push that thought to the back of his mind, focusing on the road while occasionally looking over at your now sleeping form. 

Bradley looked over as you started to rustle, sleep still covering your features. For a split second he smiled, taking in how adorable you looked. Bradley blushed at his own thoughts, focusing back on the road. You rubbed at your eyes, looking around the car and stretching out your arms. Bradley leaned a bit away from you as one of your hands moved into his space while you stretched. 

“Morning sleepyhead.” Bradley said as you sat up and moved your seat back upright. Bradley chuckled when you shot a glare at him. You looked out the window, noticing larger mounds of snow littering the area. There had to be at least a foot of snow in the surrounding area. You grabbed your beanie from the dashboard, putting it back on. You weren’t even outside but you could already feel the lower temperature. 

“How far away are we?” You asked, switching the song.

“GPS says twenty minutes, but I think I can make it in fifteen.” Bradley joked with a wink. You shot him a playful look before checking your phone. There was a text from Bob, making you smile. 

He was still one of you best friends from college, the both of you texting occasionally. You had met him at college, just like the rest of your friend group. Him and Mickey had been the only ones that weren’t so annoying about your relationship with Bradley. It was a short text, but one that had your nose scrunching up.

Bobert: You going home with Brad?

You: yeah, but it isn’t anything like that

You: also don’t call him that, it’s weird

Bobert: says the person who calls him B

The twenty minutes flew by quickly, taking in all of the surroundings outside. Bradley was right when he said it was a small town. You were pretty sure there were only three stop lights in the entire town. The town seemed dead, as most towns did during the winter in Michigan. Most people bundled up inside, drinking hot cocoa, and watching Christmas movies with their families. Or at least that was what you did while you were here. Bundled up in your dorm or apartment, depending on the year, while sipping hot cocoa with an iconic Christmas movie on. Bradley and Jake always teased you about being scrooge, but you couldn’t help that the ‘merry season’ just didn’t bring much merriment for you. 

Bradley turned down streets that you definitely weren’t going to remember, before turning into a driveway of a home. It was an obvious two story home. The outside of the house was covered in mismatching stones, a nice cement porch attached to the front. Dead bushes lined the edge of the driveway next to the house, wrapping around near the porch. There were lights covering and the edges of the roof, currently off due to it being daytime. You could make out small wire frames of a few deer lawn ornaments.

“This your childhood home?” You asked as you undid your seatbelt to get out. Bradley’s mustache twitched, a small curve to his lips. It looked almost like a nostalgic but melancholic look. His hazel eyes were full of emotions when he looked at you. It had been years since Bradley came home for the holidays, mainly spending his holidays alone now. 

“Sure is.” Bradley undid his own seatbelt, opening the driver door and getting out of the car. You quickly followed suit, the both of you heading to get the back of the car to get your luggage. 

A shiver ran through your body as you followed Bradley’s lead, making your way to the side door of the house. All you could think about was getting inside, the warmth of the home calling to you. A part of you was hoping that Penny might already have hot cocoa prepared for you two, even though the chances were low. Bradley knocked on the door, making sure to not hit the wreath hanging on it. Bradley stood on the small set of cement steps towards the door, creating an extremely large height difference. Bradley wiggled his eyebrows playfully as you two waited for someone to answer. 

“Are you sure they are home?” You rocked back and forth lightly, trying to generate some extra warmth. Bradley tilted his head and gave you a weird look. 

“Penny and Mav are retired. Plus, Amelia is on break from school. One of them has to be home.” Bradley stated as he leaned over to try and look in the windows near the door. “Or at least I’m pretty sure someone should be here.” Bradley smiled awkwardly at you before the door swung open. 

“What are you doing here?” A young blonde haired girl said with a glare. 

“Are you home alone?” Bradley questioned. You watched the two of them, taking in their casual conversation. You knew this was Amelia, recognizing some of her features. “You gonna let us in or nah?” Bradley’s question caught your attention. 

“Yeah, please. It’s really cold out here.” You finally spoke up, earning a smile from Amelia. 

“You’re lucky you brought your girlfriend Roo, or else I’d make you sleep in the garage.” Amelia smiled brightly after her words, opening the door and stepping out of the way. There was an odd feeling in your chest, when she called you Bradlye’s girlfriend. You offered an awkward smile to her, not sure if you would ever get used to being called Bradley’s girlfriend. The two of you grabbed your suitcases and made your way inside. It was a relief to feel the heat of the home engulf your body. 

“I’ll remember that when it’s Christmas morning.” Bradley quipped as he took his beanie off, you mimicking his action. Amelia stuck her tongue out, leaving the small foyer-like room. There were pictures of Bradley and Amelia adorning the walls in the foyer with the occasional Christmas decoration of the wall. The ages of them ranged from toddler to Bradley’s university graduation. One picture stood out to you though. It was toddler Bradley with two people you had never met. A gentle and kind looking woman next to a man with a pair of aviator sunglasses on and a goofy smile. The man was holding Bradley on his hip, an outdoor grill obvious in the background. Bradley must have realized you were staring at the picture, him standing a bit closer to you. 

“That’s mom and dad.” You turned to see Bradley merely inches away from your face. A heat you had noticed earlier started to boil under your cheeks. “I’ll tell you more about them later. Let’s get our stuff upstairs.” 

Bradley led the way through the comforting home, more Christmas decorations littering the home the deeper you got. It gave you an immediate sense of security, knowing that nothing wrong could happen here. The walls inside the home were adorned with more family pictures. You saw some of just Mav and Bradley’s dad, even ones of teenage Bradley and his mom. You knew that Bradley had lost his parents from a car accident, just had never seen what they looked like. The two of you made your way up the wrapping staircase. 

“So, we are sharing a room.” Bradley said as you made your way down the hallway. 

“We are what now?” Bradley opened the door to what you assumed was his old bedroom. It was more of a spare room now though, no old traces of Bradley lingering in it. There was only one bed. Of course there was only one bed. 

“That’s fine, but only one bed?” You questioned. Bradley scooted his suitcase to the side of the room, offering you a smile. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor, I promise.” 

“Good, cause I’m not sharing.” You playfully elbowed his arm, smirking when he made an over exaggerated yelp.  

After getting your suitcases sorted and unpacked you made your way downstairs. You found Amelia sitting in the living room, some type of docu-series on the tv. You sat on the couch opposite of her, checking your phone. Not only did you have a text from Bob, but one from Mickey now too. 

Bobert: (; sure it ain’t 

Mickey: how am i finding out from bob you’re with rooster for the holidays????

You rolled your eyes, deciding that neither of them deserved a response. You looked up from your phone, meeting Amelia’s gaze. You offered a small wave to her, not sure how to start a conversation with her. 

“So, have you two always been together?” Amelia crossed her arms and sunk further into the couch. Your eyebrows knitted together. 

“No? Why wou-” 

“You two went to CMU together, right?” You nodded. “And were you dating then?” 

“No, why are you-” 

“Hey!” Bradley interrupted you, coming into the living room and sitting next to you. He wrapped an arm behind you, pressing his body closely to yours. You could feel a small flutter in your stomach, something you had vaguely felt before. Especially with Bradley. 

Being this close with Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar, it was something you enjoyed from time to time. It was just nice to have someone there occasionally, that someone being Bradley. But this was different. You two were technically boyfriend and girlfriend right now. A couple. It made you feel something weird, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. All you knew was that it made your body act differently. A warmth was blossoming behind your cheeks, heart fluttering from his looks and smiles, hands developing a clamminess. 

“What are the two of you talking about?” Bradley asked with a big smile, his arm pulling you a little more snug into him. 

“You.” Amelia said with a playful glare. It was Bradley’s turn to poke his tongue out at her. The two of them started to talk while you watched them. If you hadn’t known Bradley for years, you would have thought this was his sibling. Amelia was that of sorts, even if she was about thirteen years younger than him. Bradley was an only child, but the conversation you were witnessing made you question that fact. 

“Well what about me?” Bradley asked. 

“That you should shave your mustache.” Amelia quipped. You couldn’t hide your giggle, only to be met with an offended look from Bradley. 

“There’s no way. You love my mustache don’t you, babe?” The heat flooded your cheeks once more. 

“I-I mean, I forgot what you look like without it. You’ve had it for years.” 

“You can be honest. It looks bad.” Amelia harped from her side of the living room. Bradley went to say something, stopping when he heard the door open. Amelia shot Bradley a playful look, getting up and running over to the kitchen. Suddenly you could feel Bradley’s breath on your cheek and neck, making your heartbeat pick up. 

“Sorry about all of this.” Bradley gestured to where the two of your bodies were pressed together. You turned to look at him, your eyes locking with his hazel ones. There were only a few mere inches between the two of you. “Gotta sell the part, ya know?” 

“No, no, I totally get it.” You patted at the top of his thigh, rubbing your hand lightly on his jean clad thigh. Your eyes flicked to his lips then to his eyes again. It was like something clicked in your brain, you immediately looked away from him making a small cough-like noise. “Sorry, scratch in my throat.”

Without warning Mav walked in, causing Bradley to stand up and separate from you. It was the most miniscule thing, but you were relieved. You gave Mav a smile, waving at Penny as she came around. Even though you felt welcome, all you could think about was the flight back home. 

-

“No, Bob!” You whispered on the phone. “He was like inches away, like if either of us were bumped, there would have been lip to lip contact.” You heard a small snicker. “What are you laughing about?” 

“About you coming to your senses.” You rolled your eyes, sitting down on the bed you’d be sleeping in later. 

“There aren't any ‘senses’ for me to come to.” What the fuck was Bob talking about anyway? 

“Sure there aren’t. But if you don’t see it, I’m not gonna tell you.” Bob’s shit eating grin could be heard through the phone. 

“Good, ‘cause there is nothing to be seen.” You were about to continue the conversation before Bradley walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He wore an old marron Central Michigan University t-shirt, gray sweatpants, towel still in hand, hair wet. Something inside of you lurched seeing Bradley like this, seeing him so casual and domestic. It wasn’t like how you used to see him in college, there was something different now. 

“I gotta let you go, Bob. I’ll text you.”  There was a small silence between you and Bradley before he spoke. 

“How’s Bob?” Bradley asked, gathering the extra blankets he found earlier. He laid a comforter down on the floor next to the bed. You pulled your legs up onto the bed, trying to keep them out of his way while he assembled his makeshift bed. You grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed and plopped it down on his comforter. 

“Bob is, Bob is fine.” Bradley got down on his knees, rolling out the blankets and fluffing the pillow you tossed down. Another silence. 

“Hey, I… I’m sorry about earlier and dinner. If I’m being a bit too much,” he looked up at you, “just let me know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” A sincere look was on his features.

“Bradley..”

“I just need this holiday to go well, okay?” A small amount of emotion had slipped into Bradley’s sincere look. 

“Bradley, what is this really about?” Bradley looked away from you. 

“I know you don’t want to be here, but please. I need to show Mav that I’m doing well.” You watched Bradley with a smile as he started talking with his hands. It was kind of cute, something he did when he got nervous. “He keeps harping on me and I just-” You took his hands in yours, stopping the movements. Bradley finally looked back up at you, making you smile. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me this when you asked me?” You thought about dinner, how Mav kept asking questions. When did you two officially get together? When are you gonna move in together? Did you always like each other? Any thoughts about marriage? 

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured about the entire thing. Like if you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to. Mav is just a little overbearing, and has been since my parents passed. He just-” 

“Bradley,” he stopped his rambling, “I’m your friend, okay? Friends help friends. And that unfortunately means maybe pretending to be your friend's girlfriend to make it seem like he is doing good in life with his god-father.” Bradley’s lips cracked into a smile at your words. 

“Thanks. I knew there was a reason why I call you my best friend.” A small flutter in your chest was noticeable as you smiled back at him. 

“You’re gonna owe me so much take-out and coffee after this.” 

-

It was Christmas Eve and all five of you were in the living room. It was apparently tradition for Bradley and his family to watch Space-Balls on Christmas Eve, followed by some assortment of Christmas movies afterwards. Pete and Penny were on one couch, Penny curled up under Pete’s arm. Amelia was curled up on a recliner, bundled up with a fleece blanket. Then there was you and Bradley. Bradley sat at one end of the couch, you laid out at the other end with your legs stretching out. Your feet were currently set on Bradley’s lap, one of his hands rested on your shin while the other was curled around the heel of one foot. 

Everyone was focused on the movie, laughing at the jokes they had laughed at before. But you weren’t focused on the movie. Yes, it was one of your favorites. How could it not be, seeing Bill Pullman pull out such a stellar comedy performance. But alas, you were focused on your best friend. 

After your conversation last night, it was easier. All of it. The small touches of Bradley’s fingertips or hands, the invasion of your ‘bubble’ became more bearable too. Even the small things your body was doing. Everytime Bradley laughed it warmed you, making you forget about the ten degree weather outside. The way your heart fluttered when he looked at you, it was oddly exciting. Has that always happened when he looked at you? 

You felt a squeeze on your heel, pulling you out of your thoughts. Bradley was giving you a questioning look, silently asking if you were okay with another squeeze of your heel. After giving him a soft smile and nod he turned back to the movie. Bradley had always been a type of comfort to you, but this was a different kind of comfort he was providing now. The movie played on, earning a few giggles and chuckles from you and the others. It wasn’t until the end of the movie any of you noticed the new snowflakes flurrying beyond the window pane. 

“Fresh snow!” Amelia shouted, whipping around in the recliner to look out the window behind her. You sat up a little bit, pulling the blanket on your lap up around you while inching closer to Bradley.

“Wonder how long it’s been snowing.” Bradley whispered as you leaned into him. The blanket you had was warm, but you wanted more warmth. You silently thanked whatever higher power for making Bradley a walking furnace. 

“Not sure.” Bradley wrapped an arm around you, pulling you tighter into him. You looked across the living room, catching a look from Mav. There was this look of adoration in his eyes as he watched you and Bradley. A small pang of guilt struck you, feeling bad about fooling him. But if this was what Bradley wanted, you would help. You weren’t going to be around when it blew up anyways, when Bradley had to explain why you had ‘broken up’ or that it was all fake. 

“Let’s go outside! Make a snowman or something!” Amelia turned back around and sat up. 

“I don’t know about that one.” Penny said, sitting up on the couch. “It’s pretty cold outside.” 

“We will wear our coats, hats and gloves. Promise.” Amelia held out her pinky to her mother, signaling a pinky promise. Mav chuckled at her before speaking. 

“And who is we?” Amelia shrugged at Mav’s question. 

“Me and Bradley.” It was Bradley’s turn to sit up straight, making you sit up straight. 

“Hey, I didn’t agree to that.” Bradley said, his arms still around you. 

“Please?” Amelia asked, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Fine but only if she comes out too.” Bradley smirked as he gestured to you. You sat back from him, giving him an astonished look. 

“If I-”

“Pretty please. I wanna go do snow angels, but I don’t wanna go alone.” Amelia interrupted you, now giving you puppy dog eyes. You didn’t want to ruin her mood. 

“Only if I get to pick the next Christmas movie.” Everyone agreed to let you pick the next Christmas movie. You, Bradley, and Amelia hunted down your winter gear. Bradley made sure to tie your boots tight for you, knowing that you didn’t want to risk getting snow in them. Amelia grabbed your arm, tugging you down for her to whisper something. 

“Let’s pelt him with snowballs.” 

The three of you went outside, hats pulled down and far as possible. Amelia ran through the snow coating the driveway, missing the cars as she made her way to the front yard. You and Bradley walked to the yard, seeing Amelia with her arms out and wide, twirling as she caught snowflakes with her tongue. It made you smile, seeing her enjoy the very essence of what winter was. Bradley watched you, taking in your expression. He felt something blossom inside of him, not being able to place what it was exactly. 

“Ready for snow angels?” You joked, elbowing him lightly. Bradley smiled at you, before nodding and leading the way. Penny and Pete watched your snow angel joy turn into a snowball fight, you and Amelia teaming up against Bradley. 

“They’re cute.” Penny said as she watched Bradley fall down as Amelia tackled him into the snow. All Mav could do was nod, smiling as he watched the three of you. He had never seen Bradley so happy, let alone so happy with another person. 

-

“The, the, the, the Grinch!” Bradley mocked, repeating the line of your favorite Christmas movie as you two made it up the stairs. After coming back inside from a thorough snowball fight, you forced everyone to sit through the live-action Grinch. 

It was late now, the two of you making your way up to your shared room. Bradley shot you a pair of finger guns before gathering his clothes, heading into the bathroom. It was his way of giving you privacy while changing. The both of you hoped that Amelia never saw it, not wanting her to catch on to your charade. You slipped into your sleepwear, your own Central Michigan University t-shirt and sweatpants. You checked your phone after you set your dirty clothes in the clothes basket. There were a few messages from your dagger squad group chat and a few from Bob. 

Dagger Squad, Nat: Midland Street? Right? 

Dagger Squad, Jakey: i mean, fricks is an option

Dagger Squad, Javs: only saying fricks cause you live there

Dagger Squad, Jakey: sue me

Dagger Squad, BradBrad: Either spot, can’t be out late. Have to drive afterwards

You squinted at the time of Bradley’s message, seeing it was only from a few minutes ago. You typed out a small reply to the group chat, explaining you also had a drive before looking at Bob’s texts. 

Bobert: How’s the trip? 

Bobert: You’re not mad about our convo, right? 

Bobert: Sorry if I was out of line. 

Bobert: Y’all coming to the get together? 

You thought Bradley had told everyone you two would be there. 

You: yeah, just have to drive afterwards. and no, i’m not mad, just had to watch a lot of christmas movies and beat bradley’s ass in a snowball fight 

A beat barely passed when a notification dropped down, a text to the group chat from Jake. 

Dagger Squad, Jakey: just one of you lovebirds dd, i got a spare room if you need it (;

You rolled your eyes, just in time for Bradley to walk in the room. He had his phone in hand, staring at the screen as he closed the door. He turned to look at you, holding his phone out for you to see the screen. The group chat was pulled up on his screen. 

“Are you seeing this?” You held up your phone, showing him the group chat on your screen. 

“Grade-A asshole.” You joked about Jake. You climbed into bed, curling up under the plush comforter. You scooted to the edge, looking at Bradley as he settled onto his makeshift bed. 

“Sometimes I wonder why we are friends with him.” Bradley stated, plugging his charger into the phone and setting it on the nightstand. He picked up your charger cord, handing it to you for you to plug your phone in.

“It’s crazy how any of us are friends.” You said while plugging  your phone in. 

“How so?” Bradley asked, looking up at you from the floor. Your heart swelled as you looked at him, his honey locks disheveled against the pillow. There was a tiredness that was settling on his features, one that was most likely settling onto yours too. 

“I mean, aside from us, we all have different majors. It’s kind of surprising we all managed to stay friends after pre-req years.” Bradley shrugged. He tried hard not to smile as he stared up at you, your cute peeking form over the edge of the bed. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you spoke up again. 

“Should we set an alarm for the morning? Don’t wanna miss any presents.” Bradley shook his head no. 

“I promise you, they won’t open anything before we get down there.” You rolled back onto the bed completely, rolling onto your side. 

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

“Goodnight, babe.” 

-

The two of you were awoken by Penny knocking on your door. After confirmation the two of you were awake she told the two of you to be downstairs in ten minutes. Bradley groaned as he rolled onto his side. You checked your phone, seeing a text from Mickey, Bob, and the dagger squad group chat. You looked at the time, 9:25am, then decided to ignore the texts. Those were a future you problem. Without warning Bradley stood up, not facing you and leaving the room. 

It was odd, he at least told you good morning yesterday before heading to the bathroom. You changed into an old university sweater, waiting for Bradley to return. After a few minutes you decided to head down alone, knowing Bradley would be close to follow. 

The smell of cinnamon rolls flooded your senses, making you smile. You saw Penny and Amelia in the kitchen, talking about something while preparing the cinnamon rolls. You made your way to the first floor bathroom, deciding to use it before interacting for the day. After using the bathroom you made your way to the living room. Pete smiled at you once he saw you. 

“Merry Christmas!” Mav greeted you before frowning. “Where’s Bradley?” You shrugged. 

“Went to the bathroom in a hurry and I haven’t seen him since.” Mav nodded, a weird half frown half smirk on his lips. You went to question the look before Bradley walked into the living room. His cheeks had a rosy tint to them, making you question why he left for the bathroom even more. 

“Morning.” You greeted as he sat next to you. Bradley smiled and just nodded to you, turning his attention to Mav quickly. 

“We just put the cinnamon rolls in, so let’s do some presents.” Penny informed as she sat next to Mav. Amelia sat at her classic recliner, staring at the gifts under the Christmas tree. 

“It’s present time.” And with those words gifts were passed around. Bradley had explained on the plane ride that Mav and Penny had his presents shipped to his apartment. It made sense, flying made it hard to bring anything back with you during the holidays. But that didn’t stop them from getting the two of you new beanies and scarves, things that wouldn’t be hard to take on a plane. 

“We know it’s small but we couldn’t leave you out.” Penny said as you set the items on the arm of the couch. 

“Thank you, it means a lot.” Penny smiled then excused herself to check on the cinnamon rolls in the oven. Bradley watched Amelia with a soft smile as she shoved a present towards Mav.

Seeing Bradley like this made your heart ache, knowing that he wasn’t able to experience this every year. It was lonely living away from everything you knew. You had left your home state for college, Bradley left his for work. You had happened to both get employed by the same company after university, forcing you two to stay close. But there was a kind of comfort in having each other. Bradley’s constant open availability for a movie night and you always paying for his take out was a match made in heaven. Without a further thought you nudged him lightly. 

“You okay?” Bradley nodded, that kind tilt of his lips still on his face. 

“Of course, what makes you ask?” Bradley leaned back into the couch, placing his arm around you. There was an unspoken comfortability in the small action, for you and Bradley. You leaned into him, eyes never leaving Amelia and Pete. 

“You never said good morning.” That rosy tint crept back into Bradley’s cheeks. His eyes flicked to yours briefly before leaning in, his hot breath against the shell of your ear. 

“Sorry, I won’t let it happen again.” It was now your turn for a heat to rise in your cheeks, warming you to your very core. Was Bradley flirting with you? Your brain short-circuited, replying without thinking it through. 

“You better not.” You whispered back, leaning closer into him to see Mav open a coffee mug saying “I’m a Pielat, Pielit, Pilat, I can fly” which earned a hearty chuckle from him. 

Bradley kept his arm around you for the rest of the day, except when you enjoyed Penny’s homemade cinnamon rolls that you made sure to get the recipe for. Maybe you would make them for you and Bradley sometime, to remind him of home when he needed it the most. A warmth spread through you at that thought, the idea of being able to provide him a sense of home. You shook your head, trying to push your thoughts away. Why were you even thinking that? Providing Bradley a sense of home? The two of you were friends, not an actual couple you reminded yourself of. 

-

Bradley was beyond elated with how the trip was going. It was only three days into the trip, but your sentiment about it all had changed. Bradley was surprised when you let him, continually, wrap his arm around you. He liked keeping you close to him, snuggled into his side as you all watched more Christmas movies. There was a warmth spreading through his chest, creeping into all of his crevices. It was making him whole, fixing all the cracks that were inside of him previously. He knew that you had something to do with it. 

Maybe it was the way you teased him along with his family. Or how you fit in with them so well, holding any conversation like you’d known them personally for years. The way you made snow angels charmed him too, even though you had turned into a little devil that pelted him with snowballs. Even when you were peeking over the edge of the bed, staring down at him with your wide eyes while complaining about Jake. Or maybe it was the dream he had, where dream him was fucking dream you in his childhood bedroom. Or how he couldn’t get the images of dream you moaning underneath of him. 

The feeling wasn’t completely unfamiliar, he had felt it in the past. He had always tried to ignore it, not wanting to mess anything up with you. But you were his best friend, and had been since college. What was a friendship if you didn’t sometimes love them a little too much? Right? 

It was late now though, and you were still curled up under his arm. You looked peaceful, sleep having taken over during the final christmas movie after dinner. Bradley didn’t want to wake you, wishing the two of you could stay like this forever. He didn’t get many chances to see you this peaceful. He eventually pushed those feelings to the side, deciding it was best to get you up to the bed. He didn’t want to chance you waking up in the middle of the night on the couch disoriented. 

“Hey,” Bradley nudged your shoulder, “gotta get up. Get you up to bed, can’t have you sleeping on the couch or me all night.” You rustled a little, eyes fluttering open to meet his hazel orbs. 

“Why not?” You asked with a yawn. 

“Because I’m not a bed. Plus, you gotta brush your teeth.” You gave him a face that read ‘ah’, sitting up and stretching your arms. You looked around to see just the two of you in the living room. 

“Did everyone go to bed?” 

“Yeah, everyone turned in for the night.” Bradley sat up a little bit, looking at you with this soft look. You stared at him with a sleepy look, making his heart flutter. You looked so damn cute to him. “I can carry you, if you’d like?” 

A heat flooded your cheeks from his offer. You shook your head as Bradley stood up, holding his hand out for you to take. You looked at it skeptically through your sleepy haze, eventually taking it. His large hand enveloped yours, leading you up to your room. Bradley gathered his things and scurried to the bathroom, leaving you alone in the bedroom. A part of you was starting to question why he left every time. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before, even though the times he had seen you it was an accident. 

You slowly pulled your beat up CMU sweater off, tossing it on the floor to track down your t-shirt. You put a pair of sweatpants on, t-shirt still missing. You looked around, searching for the maroon t-shirt. The door to the room opened while you were searching, revealing a shirtless Bradley with your maroon shirt in his hands. He stared at your shirtless figure, only a black bralette covering your tits. 

“I- uh.. I accidentally grabbed your shirt.” Bradley offered the maroon material out to you. 

It was as if you were frozen, staring at his body. You remembered how toned Bradley was in college, but he had changed with age just like you had. He was still slim, but it wasn’t all muscle like he used to be. The heat returned to your cheeks, radiating into the back of your neck and chest. It was a christmas miracle you tore your gaze away, only to catch Bradley’s gaze crawling all over your exposed skin. Bradley had a rosy tint to his cheeks again, something that was a common theme today. He tore his gaze away, turning his head and holding the shirt out a little more. 

“And you thought I was the tired one.” It was a poor attempt to break the new tension between the two of you. Bradley cracked an awkward smile. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” You said, scooting past Bradley with your t-shirt in hand. After you brushed your teeth you stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering what the hell was going on with you. 

-

"Rooster, can you come help me?" The basement door was wide open in the kitchen, Maverick at the bottom of the stairs leading into the basement. You raised your eyebrows at Bradley, who was sitting across from you at the table. 

A chill had consumed the house all morning. Everyone was bundled up in sweaters, sweatpants, cozy socks, and Bradley in a beanie. Mav had made sure to keep an eye on the thermostat, slowly watching the temp drop. Penny had left for work already, leaving Maverick responsible for figuring out the dropping heating problem. Bradley made his way to the door, asking for good luck before heading down to the basement. As Bradley's footsteps trailed to silence, your phone vibrated. 

Mickey: y'all fuck yet????

You rolled your eyes, not noticing Amelia watching you from the kitchen. 

You: we aren't gonna fuck like that

You: you’re as bad as jake

Mickey: like that??? 

You: we aren't fucking at all

Mickey: that's not what a little bird told me 

You: if you mean bob, that's not what I told him 

Mickey: it was an actual bird. or at least a mythical one (;

"A mythical bird?" You quietly asked. The text glared at you, racking the crevices of your brain. 

"Like a Phoenix?" Amelia's playful tone cut through your thoughts. 

Phoenix. Of course it was Phoenix. 

Natasha Trace was Bradley's second best friend, right after you. She went to the same high school as Bradley, and the same university as the rest of you. In college she earned the nickname Phoenix from Jake, after a wild night of partying and her being completely unphased the day after. If you had been telling Bob about what happened, there was a chance that Bradley was telling Natasha. Maybe Bradley thought all these interactions were just as weird. 

"You two are dating, right?" Amelia's voice interrupted your train of thought again. She scuttled in from the kitchen to the dining room, a blanket wrapped around her and her sweatshirt hood pulled up. She stared at you from the edge of the table. 

"What makes you ask that?" 

"First, you didn't say yes. Second, Bradley had never mentioned you prior. Just makes me wonder things." Her words weren't hurtful, she just wanted to know. Contemplation wavered in you for a moment, deciding whether to tell Amelia the truth or not. 

“Don’t tell your mom and Mav. And don’t tell Bradley that I told you this either.” Amelia’s smirk grew wide at your words. 

“I knew it!” An excited whisper left her, accompanied by a finger pointing at you. You rolled your shoulders and tilted your head at her. 

“Bradley needed someone to bring home since Mav kept asking if he was seeing anyone. And now here I am, in the freezing cold with you.” Amelia snickered at your last comment. She was a sweet girl, you could feel the secret was safe with her. 

“Bradley had never mentioned you, so I thought it was a little weird.” She admitted while pulling out a chair to sit. A nod and smile was all you were able to give her. “It’s not that you guys aren’t believable, because you are. The looks you two give each other? Those are on par with mom and Mav.” You squinted while tilting your head, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Amelia laughed. “Why are you giving me that look?” 

“What?” Amelia’s eyes widened at your question. An at home theater had formed in your brain, replaying all of the moments of the trip in your brain. 

“Are you serious?” You just stared at her in disbelief. “You’re just as oblivious as Bradley.” The both of you turned to look at the door to the basement, hearing footsteps climbing the stairs. Pete was the first one to emerge, Bradley right on his tail. Bradley smiled awkwardly, looking between you and Amelia. He clearly knew something was up between the two of you. 

“Well, the furnace is out. Gonna have to call the H-VAC company.” Pete looked defeated, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He walked over to the sink, leaning against it as he googled the local company. Bradley made his way over to your chair, placing a hand on your back and rubbing lightly. All you could do was stare at Amelia, watching as her lips curved into a grin. 

“You two good?” Bradley questioned, his hand stilling on your back. Amelia looked up at Bradley with that grin on her lips.

“Just fine, Roo. Why wouldn’t we be?” The gal on this kid was impressing you more and more. You watched Amelia as she put her hands up under her chin, batting her lashes at Bradley. It pulled a giggle out of you, watching her try to soothe Bradley’s suspicion. Bradley scrunched his eyebrows together at Amelia, confused as to why she was acting like this. 

“O-kay. Babe, can you help me pull out some electric heaters from the garage?” You squinted at him, chatter of Mav on the phone filling the background now. 

“Um, why didn’t we get those earlier?” 

“Exactly.” It was nice to hear Amelia agree with you. 

“I asked the same thing,” Bradley leaned down between the two of you, “but you know how he is.” All three of you looked towards the kitchen, seeing Mav pinching the bridge of his nose. None of you could hear his hushed tone. Bradley turned back and stood up, shrugging his shoulders. “Said something about how high the electric bill will be.” 

“Of course he did.” Amelia scoffed, shaking her head in amusement. 

“Yeah, I’ll help with getting the heaters.” In all honesty, you just wanted away from Amelia. You wanted time to process her words, without her being present. 

The two of you bundled up, throwing on your coats and boots before heading out to the garage. Bradley swiped the key to the garage door, letting you out the house first. It felt relieving knowing it was still colder outside, reminding you it wasn’t that cold in the house. Your hands were tightly in your coat pockets, trying to scavenge any type of heat they could find. Bradley headed to the tall wooden gate that separated the backyard from the driveway. His hands rubbed together vigorously, bringing the up to blow warm air against the cold appendages. 

“Forgot gloves?” Bradley smirked at your words.

“Yeah.” It was a soft ‘yeah’, one that made your heart flutter. Bradley was staring at you with this soft look on his face. He looked at your pockets, seeing small movements behind the polyester material. “Forget yours too?” 

All you could do was nod, praying Bradley would open the gate soon.  Which he did, flipping the latch and letting you pass through before him. It was left open as he unlocked the garage door, ushering you into the smaller building. It was colder in the garage than the house, but a few degrees warmer than outside. He left the door slightly cracked as he looked for the heaters. 

Your body had started to waddle in place, trying to produce some amount of heat. You took your hands out of your coat pockets, placing them between your thighs for warmth. It was only once you curled in on yourself a little Bradley noticed you. He made his way over to you, straightening your posture up to talk to you. You were face to face with him, his face a few inches away. 

“Last time you forget gloves, right?” 

“Right.” Bradley reached at your forearms, pulling your hands out from between your thighs. He brought your hands up to his mouth, cupping them with his own. Hot breath coated the cold skin of your hands, setting your insides on fire. Your brain was starting to short circuit, feeling the hairs of Bradley’s mustache poking at your hands. Hazel eyes locked with yours, almost reading your thoughts as they popped into your brain. His lips were almost on your skin, a heat was rising from your chest into your neck and face. But no matter what warning signs your body sent out, you weren’t pulling away. 

Only a few more warm breaths of air coated your hands, Bradley pulling away. His eyes never left yours, hazel orbs peering into your deepest thoughts. His hands left yours though, grabbing his beanie off his head. The fabric was full of his residual warmth, warming your scalp and ears when he placed it on your head. 

“There, all better.” Bradley smiled at you, turning to go back and look for the heaters. 

A few moments passed before Bradley found them, hidden on a shelving unit. Your heart was still pounding from the previous interaction. But a sense of relief had washed over you once they were found. There were only three of them, but the amount didn’t matter to you. You were just glad you actually found them. You grabbed one while Bradley grabbed the other two, you closing the doors and gate while trailing behind him. 

Pete looked defeated when the two of you entered the house. Amelia was still sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone. You and Bradley both gave questioning looks to them, Amelia looked up from her phone to meet your looks. She shrugged and looked back at her phone. Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose once more, a common look for today. 

“What’s up? What’d they say?” Bradley asked as he scooted past Mav, bringing one heater out towards the living room. Mav huffed before responding. 

“Won’t be here til tomorrow.” Your look was laced with surprise and annoyance. Mav must have caught it, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me. So, we will probably have to rotate the heaters. Keep them on the first floor, then move them to the bedrooms at night.” Bradley returned from the living room, grabbing another space heater to place in the crest of the dining area and living room. After placing the last one in the kitchen, the four of you settle into the living room, bundling up with blankets as you all watch whatever Amelia put on. 

Penny was equally unimpressed with the answer the H-VAC company gave, but at least they knew it would only last a night. A space heater was moved to everyone’s respective rooms, warming them barely. A sweatshirt and sweatpants were your sleep attire for the night, Bradley wearing the same. It was painful watching him crawl on into his makeshift bed. The layers barely helped, the heater not being powerful enough to heat the entire room. That was when you heard a soft chittering. You rolled over to the edge of the bed, looking down to see Bradley curled up in a blanket and shivering. Sharing the bed was the only option to keep the both of you warm.

“Bradley?” One of his eyes opened, peering up at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you wanna share the bed?” Bradley knitted his eyebrows, both eyes open now. 

“I- no, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” Bradley lightly shook his head. 

“Bradley, you won’t make me uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not getting in the bed.”

“Why?” A smirk grew on Bradley’s face. 

“You have cooties, obviously.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m serious, you’re gonna freeze.”

“And I’m also serious.” Bradley pulled his blanket up over his neck, a shudder running through him. 

"Bradley, I can hear your teeth. Get in the bed." Your whisper was harsh as you tried to convince Bradley to remove himself from the floor. Even though you didn't really want to share the bed, you definitely weren't going to let him freeze to death on the floor of his childhood bedroom.

“Fine.” Was all you heard before Bradley stood up. 

Hot. It was the first word your brain registered when you woke up. Maybe it was the layers or the space heater that had run all night. There was a weight on your midsection, shifting to see what it was. It was hard to make out the familiar arm in your sleep induced haze.. That’s when you remembered inviting Bradley into the bed. His shuddering and shivering form on the floor forcing you to show him mercy. 

The arm tightened, pulling you closer into Bradley’s body. His sweatshirt clad chest was inviting against your sweatshirt clad back. It was telling you to relax and just accept this new fate. The fate of being wrapped up in your best friend's arms, heart racing, hot breath against your neck. It was a truly tragic fate. 

Time passed as you laid there, staring at the empty wall on the other side of the room. It’s blank canvas, oddly taunting you, not letting you forget about your current situation. The idea of checking your phone hadn’t even crossed your mind. You’d rather stay here in this comfortable, yet anxiety inducing scenario. It was obvious that Bradley hadn’t woken up yet or else why would he be spooning you, right? 

All the cuddling on the couch was for his family, showing to them that you two were a couple. Amelia being the only one to catch on that you weren’t. Well, at least you hoped she was the only one for both of your sakes. You heard a soft murmur behind you, breaking your train of thought. 

Bradley shifted closer to you, nuzzling his face into your back while pulling your midsection back. That was when you felt it. A heat crept into your cheeks, something sparking inside of you. A small rock of Bradley hips almost had a moan slipping from your lips. Your hand trailed up to your lips, covering your mouth to hide any sounds you might produce. 

Soft sounds emanated from Bradley, your thighs squeezing together as you listened. A loop of excuses kept playing in your brain, telling you that what was happening was wrong but you couldn’t stop your thighs from tightening. It took everything inside of you not to rock back into him, for your and his sanity. But it wasn’t much longer before Bradley was stirring awake. A soft ‘hmm’ was all you heard, his arm loosening around you, then there was a light scramble. 

“Oh my god.” That’s when you decided to put the intro to acting class to work. You played dumb, acting like you were asleep. After letting out a sleep noise, one you knew Bradley wouldn’t decipher, you rolled onto your back to look at him. You squint your eyes, putting on your best sleepy face. 

“What?” Bradley sat up and scooted away from you, a small pang of hurt in your chest. A sheen of sweat coated his face, a rosy tint to his cheeks. His eyes met yours for a moment, only to be broken by him. Bradley threw the blankets off of him, scooting down to the end of the bed. This was not the reaction you were expecting. 

“Bradley?” He stopped, hand resting on the door handle. 

“I’ll be back.” Panic flooded through you as he left. Thoughts of your friendship being now ruined were playing on repeat. You knew Bradley was going to come back into the bedroom and tell you to leave, that he would book a flight home for you. There was no doubt about it. You just let your best friend rut against your ass, and didn’t stop it. Of course, your friendship would be ruined. 

But it didn’t seem that way. Bradley had come back to the room, asking if he woke you and promptly apologizing. Then the day went on as normal, or what had become the normal for the both of you. 

The two of you were laying out on the couch, Amelia hidden in her room, Mav sitting in the living room with you. Pete and Bradley were watching River Monsters on the TV, the size of the fish casually catching your attention every now and then. Your phone was mainly holding your attention as you rested your head on Bradley’s thigh. Every now and then he would peer down at you, raising his eyebrows with a light expression on his face. You couldn’t make out what it really meant, but you knew it wasn’t anything bad. 

You looked back at your phone as the British man on the TV screen talked about the fish he was set after. That’s when a text notification flashed across the top of your screen. One from the group chat. 

Dagger Squad, Jakey: tongiht fuckers

Dagger Squad, Javs: are you drunk already? 

Dagger Squad, Reuben: Where? 

Dagger Squad, Nat: Jake, you better not be 

Dagger Squad, Jakey: one typo and everyone thinks you’re drunk

Dagger Squad, Jakey: i’m at work assholes

Dagger Squad, Jakey: except you Reuben, you’re not an asshole 

Dagger Squad, Reuben: Thanks. 

A chuckle left you, the sling of texts getting the better of you. Bradley noticed your laugh, giving you a questioning look. An amused huff left Bradley after you offered your phone to him. 

“How could we not? He was notorious for showing up to 8am’s still drunk or hungover.” That caught Mav’s attention, him perking up like a puppy. 

“Seresin?” Bradley nodded to Mav, you turning to look at Mav. It didn’t really surprise you that Mav knew of Jake. It surprised you that he knew what his tendencies were. “Wild kid.” Bradley let out a hearty laugh. 

“That’s what you call it? Come on Mav, I’ve heard you call him much worse.” Mav smiled, a small nod barely noticeable. Bradley had told Mav all about Jake in college, the goods and bads. 

“That’s what I’ll leave it at. Don’t want to say anything that gets me in trouble.” 

“Like how he has an ego that could rival the size of Jupiter?” Mav caught your smirk, your words pulling a chuckle from him. 

“Something like that.” It was true. Jake had a huge ego, it was apparent from the first moment you met him. He had just this aura about him that screamed ‘asshole with confidence’, even if the first part wasn’t fully true. Yes, he was an ass a lot of the time, but he did care deeply for all of you. 

“Are you two going out tonight? With Jake?” Bradley’s lips bunched to one side of his mouth. 

“Guess so.” 

For a Tuesday night the bar was packed. Even though Natasha had argued for Midland Street bar hopping, everyone decided Frick’s was probably the better choice. They weren’t the spry young college kids they used to be. The idea of walking from bar to bar while stumbling wasn’t appealing to you, especially in the fifteen degree weather. Plus, the thirty minute drive to Frick’s was better than the forty-five to Midland Street. 

Jake lightened up the minute he saw you and Bradley walk in. Jake stopped you for a moment, making you turn to show off your outfit. It wasn’t anything crazy, jeans and a cropped knit sweater. Natasha greeted Bradley immediately. Your face scrunched a little when Natasha pulled Bradley down, whispering something to him. The lighting wasn’t the best, but there was no mistaking the blush that crept up his neck. 

“You two fuck yet?” Jake’s comment pulled you from your stare. You slapped his chest with the back of your hand, giving him a scowl. 

“Jake, this is why nobody tells you anything.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the table. 

“People tell me things.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing the wrist of his hand that was dangling off your shoulder. 

“Javy doesn’t count.” Jake feigned a hurt look at your teasing.

“But Javy is people.” You squeezed his wrist, chuckling at his joke. Javy appeared from the bathroom, reminding you of his rule to empty his bladder before drinking. Bradley and Natasha sat down across the table from you. This had to be the first time for the entire trip that Bradley wasn’t sitting next to you. There was a small ache in your chest, watching him scoot closer to the table across from you. Jake sitting next to you was fine, but it just wasn’t Bradley.

“Is Robert coming?” Jake asked. 

“Yeah, Bob is coming.” You replied, seeing Natasha give a confirming nod. 

“Mickey?” Another nod from Nat. “Good, getting those two to reply is like pulling teeth. Reuben even replies faster than them, and he never replies.” You rolled your eyes at Jake’s comment. Group chats weren’t Bob, Mickey, or Reuben’s thing. Hell, Bradley barely responded in the group chat either. 

“What do I never do?” All of you turned to see Reuben, a long wool peacoat and scarf adorning him. That was one thing Reuben was always good at, dressing exceptionally well. You almost jumped out of your chair, hurrying around the table to hug him. It had been years since you saw Reuben. He wasn’t the best at keeping up with people, living in his own realm of existence. You were a little jealous of it, but it did supply you for satisfying reunions. 

“Aye, and Payback is here!” Jake announced, getting out of his own chair to get a hug from Reuben. Reuben rolled his eyes at Jake’s nickname, one that he earned at university for always getting payback on Jake. Jake and Mickey were always trying to pull pranks on Reuben, trying to rile him up. To which Reuben reciprocated, pranking them in ten fold. 

Reuben took his seat at the end of the table, knowing the free seat on your left was meant for Bob. There was a matching open seat across from it, free for Mickey. 

“Yes, Mickey is coming. Class was running a bit late for him.” Sometimes you forgot that Mickey was a teacher. Not just a teacher, a professor. A professor of fine art to be precise. He taught at one of the local community colleges and recreation centers, teaching a few different types of art classes. 

“You got an excuse for Bob?” Jake asked, earning an eye roll from Javy. 

“Dude, this is the first time we’ve all seen each other in years. Why you being like this?” Javy questioned. You and everyone agreed, joining in on scorning Jake for his questioning manner. 

“Excuse me for wanting to know when my friend gets here.” His hands moved up in a defensive manner. That was when the waitress came by, taking drink orders and checking everyone’s ID. Bradley was oddly quiet, making you wonder what was going on in his brain. What had Natasha whispered to him? He wasn’t nervous the entire thirty minute car ride, so why now? 

About ten minutes passed before Bob and Mickey showed up, the both of them getting there at the same time. Bob quickly took his place next to you, Mickey sitting across from him. They both gave you these looks, ones that nobody else picked up on. They knew. They knew what had happened that morning. 

A new group chat had been formed that morning. One of just the three of you. It started initially as a ‘I need to tell Mickey and Bob that Bradley was just dry humping me in his sleep and I didn’t do anything about it’ that turned into a ‘I think I might be in love with Bradley’. Bob and Mickey weren’t surprised by either thoughts. But now you were sitting at a table with them, the temptation of teasing you right in front of them. There was a small tension, one Reuben immediately picked up on.

“So.. how’s everyone been?” Reuben asked, wanting to keep the topic off the obvious. If Mickey knew anything, Reuben knew it too. Their connection started when they were roommates, only strengthening over time. 

“Good! Kids are good too!” Javy didn’t have kids, he had students. He treated them as if they were his own, doting on all of them with an equal amount of care. 

“Still don’t know how you put up with them.” Natasha said, sipping on her gin and tonic. Bradley smiled, agreeing with a nod. 

“Well, I don’t get how you can stare at numbers all day.” Javy teased, sticking his tongue out at her. 

“It’s not that hard.” Jake chimed in. Now it was your turn to join in the conversation. 

“Says the engineer.” Jake rolled his eyes. 

“What can I say,” Jake shrugged, “I’m special.” Jake grabbed his beer bottle for a long swig. 

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Bradley said, earning giggles from everyone around the table. 

That was how the night went. All of you catching up, discussing life and things you all had planned. The topic of what you and Bradley were editing came up, Reuben curious about what new books might hit the market soon. Bob had mentioned that he was doing something computer related, not wanting to explain and potentially confuse everyone. Apparently the private accounting business Natasha started earlier that year was booming; something you never thought could describe accounting. 

Bradley’s gaze would occasionally fall on you throughout the night. While at the table they would flick from your eyes to your lips, every now and then settling on the exposed skin of your neck. His looks only became more frequent after a round of shots. That hazel gaze raking over your body once you all moved to the pool table. It only got worse when you would lean over to take your shot.

That morning had been a confirmation for Bradley, confirming his own feelings for you. It wasn’t a sudden thing, feelings he had been thinking about for a few weeks now. He was hoping this trip would just confirm you being his best friend. But that was not what happened. Every time he looked at you his heart swelled, constantly fighting the urge to press his lips to yours. Not to mention he was waking up almost every morning with a hard on because of dream you. So watching you bend over against the pool table, wiggle your hips slightly before taking your shot was painful. What was even more painful when a guy approached you at the bar. 

You didn’t really remember when you finished off your last drink, or what drink you were even on. You finished the game of pool you were playing before getting a new one. Bradley had told you during the car ride there that he would only have one beer. Which he had already had, not that you were keeping count. You did count that he was on glass three of water though. 

The bar wasn’t too crowded, just a handful of older men hanging out while having some type of whiskey you assumed. The bartender took your drink order, cracking the redbull for it and reaching for the cherry vodka. That was when someone creeped up beside you, waving at the bartender for the next order. An uncomfortable feeling settled over you, feeling a pair of eyes on you. A pair of unfamiliar eyes. 

“Hey.” You looked at the guy next to you, awkwardly smiling and acknowledging him with a nod. You didn’t say anything though, hoping he would leave you be. “You look good.” That made your eyebrows knit together. 

“Sorry, do I know you?” 

“No, but I’d like to get to know you.” You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a grimace coursing through your body. 

“No.” It was a simple word, one you figured would get the point across. 

“Come on sweets, can’t yo-” 

“She said no.” That familiar gruff voice was behind you. You weren’t sure when Bradley had appeared behind you, but you were more than happy about it.

“And who are you, buddy?” That question sparked something in Bradley, his nostrils flaring. Warmth wrapped around your waist, Bradley’s arm tugging you close to him.

“Boyfriend, now get the fuck out of here. She’s taken.” A shiver ran down your spine, a heat pooling between your thighs. Fuck, why did that make you so hot? It had to be the alcohol, not the fact Bradley was calling you his. Your hand rested against his chest, leaning into him to further his words into the stranger's brain. After the stranger left, you grabbed your drink from the bar. The warmth of Bradley’s arm never left you, even when you two walked towards the group. 

It felt like you were vibrating when everyone saw you again. Everyone had giant smirks on their faces, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey whispering between each other. Jake’s smirk was shit-eating, full of a smugness you had shockingly never seen from him before. Javy nudged Nat with his elbow, both of their smirks were full of affection. 

“Some asshole at the bar wouldn’t leave her alone.” Bradley stated when you two returned, the warmth of his arm disappeared. For the rest of the time Bradley fetched all of your drinks, from cider to shots. He was currently at the bar for a round of shots for you, Bob, Mickey, and Reuben. 

“You two make quite the pair,” Reuben took a swig of his beer, “always have if I’m being honest.” 

“And after this morning?” A heat filled you at Mickey’s words, a mix of the alcohol and embarrassment. 

“Can we not talk about that?” Bob let out a chuckle.

“What? Worried he will find you were awake the whole time?” 

“Oh, don’t act like a fucking saint Bob. We all know the shit you got up to in college.” Reuben and Mickey laughed, Bob’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” An eye roll was all you gave him. 

“So when do you two fly back?” Mickey asked. None of you noticed Bradley reappear, two shots in each hand. A part of you had forgotten that bartending is what he did to help pay his way through college. 

“December thirty-first.” Bradley answered, setting the shots all down on the table. You passed him the water you had been guarding for him. The four of you with shots toasted, Bradley toasting his water cup to you all. The liquor burned as it traveled down your throat. You weren’t completely drunk, but there was definitely a thick haze wrapped around your mind. 

“Just in time for New Years.” Reuben said, leaning back and wrapping his arm behind Mickey’s chair. A small staring contest had started between you and Bob, his blue eyes intense with knowing. 

“Guess so.” A part of you knew Reuben’s words meant more than the obvious, but the last shot was already starting to catch up to you. The haze only got worse as the night went on. Natasha was fucking with Bradley at the dart board, teasing him after every shot. Jake, Javy, Mickey, and Reuben were all playing pool; teams of two which weren’t uncommon for them. Bob sat with you at the table, taking immediate notice to your zoning stare. 

“Hey, hey.” Bob waved his hand, breaking your trance and grabbing your attention. The haze in your brain was more intense than you initially thought. A small smile was what you offered him. Bob let out a sigh. 

“How you feelin’?”  He adjusted his glasses. The chatter from the rest of the bar was mind numbing, starting to overwhelm your brain. A nausea started to settle in your stomach, bubbling into your throat. Your hands ran over your face, everything becoming too much all at once. The sounds. Your friends. The trip. Bradley.

After your hands loosened from your face your eyes caught him. His mustache twitching upwards as he held Natasha’s final dart high and out of reach. It was the same look you had watched him give Amelia during your snowball fight. Something feisty but full of warmth and care. Similar to what a big brother would give his sister. It made you think about all the looks that Bradley had given you over the trip. 

They were nothing like the looks Amelia and Natasha got. Every time you had caught him looking at you there was a softness to his gaze. A type of adoration laced into it. It made you think if his look for you had always been like that. Not the goofy caring older brother look, but the one you only gave to lovers. The look that told you he would be there through thick and thin, never leaving your side when you needed him the most. 

Everything was starting to make your head spin. Bob had concern written all over his face now. Your delayed response was really starting to stress him out. 

“Water. Fresh air. I need it all.” Bob nodded, watching you start to struggle with getting your coat on. After that he wrapped an arm around your midsection, keeping you steady against his body. The two of you made it to the bar, getting a glass of water before heading outside. Bob held the glass of water until you two were outside, sitting on the smokers bench outside. 

It didn’t surprise you that nobody was out here, it was fucking freezing. But the cold was refreshing, keeping the liquid fire coursing through your body at bay. Bob handed you the glass of water, watching as you took small sips. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses briefly. A silence settled between the two of you, both of you watching each visible exhale. 

“Why.” Bob looked at you, not sure whether you were actually asking a question or not. 

“Why what?” The water in your glass was comforting, slightly warmer than the air surrounding you two. 

“You know.” You turned your head a little, looking towards Bob. He did the same, giving you a melancholic look. “Feelings suck.” Bob let out a small huff, one that sounded amused. 

“It's not a bad thing, liking him.” His friendly smile returned. 

“I’m afraid it might be the ‘L’ word though.” You confessed. 

“Lesbians?” You gave him a playful swat, almost spilling your water in the process. You were impressed that he would quote Scott Pilgrim at a time like this. “I know,” he clarified, “and I think you do. Maybe you have for a while.” 

It was probably true. You had only thought of him as a friend for so long, it was hard to find the exact point you realized you cared for him more than that. All those late nights at the office and editing manuscripts together were starting to feel different. You wanted to say your feelings didn’t start til you were here, but that would be a lie. The double proof reads he offered you on manuscripts, the cups of coffee when you didn’t ask, even the way he lied about you being his girlfriend. It was all muddy and confusing, but it made you warm inside. 

“Bob,” it was barely a whisper, “I don’t know what to do.” Tears pricked at your waterline, a frown forming on your lips. Bob wrapped an arm around you, letting you rest your head against his  shoulder. He felt bad for you. It wasn’t because of the circumstances, it was because he knew that you truly didn’t know what to do. 

“I think you should get some sleep, then figure out what to do.” You nodded, the material of his carhartt coat rough on your cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” 

Bob placed a kiss on the top of your head. He sat with you until you finished your glass of water. It was perfect timing really. Bob decided to go find Bradley, only for Bradley to walk outside in a slight panic. Relief flooded over him when he saw you with Bob, worried the asshole from earlier might have come back to find you. 

Getting into the car was a bit of a challenge. Alcohol always made it harder to use your legs, balance becoming difficult. Bradley helped you though, Bob awkwardly standing to the side. Bob didn’t want to leave until he knew you were good. Bradley finished buckling up your seatbelt, closing the door before talking to Bob.

“Thanks man, I got really worried when I couldn’t find her.” Bob nodded, patting Bradley on the shoulder. 

“Bradley,” Bob paused for a moment, “take good care of her. Nat’s told me, and I just, don’t hurt her.” Bradley nodded softly, not fully sure how to respond to Bob. 

“Well, I don’t even kn-”

“She does. Trust me, she does.” Bob said. He patted Bradley’s shoulder one more time before heading back towards the bar. 

Bradley slipped inside the car, looking over at your already sleeping form. A soft smile formed on his lips as he admired you. You looked so peaceful while drunk and asleep. He let out a sigh, chuckling quietly to himself. You made his heart ache in ways he never thought it could. Everything about you he adored, it had only taken some time for him to realize it. He twisted the ignition, figuring it was time to finally head home. 

Bradley kept a watchful eye over you the entire ride home, checking periodically to see if you were waking up or not. But you never did, not until the final stop in the driveway. Even then it took a few minutes for you to stir. Bradley didn't mind that though, being able to admire you for a few more minutes.

"Are we home?" A sleepy haze was still casted over you, eyes not fully open and words raspy.You turned inward, on your side a little bit as you stared at him. It looked as though you were fighting to stay awake. 

"Yeah." Bradley wished you would have slept a little longer, anything to prevent him from not being next to you. He turned towards you, watching as you leaned deeper into the seat of the car.

"I'm tired." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know," Bradley smiled, "you slept the whole way here." You ran a hand over your face, yawning afterwards and closing your eyes. "How do you feel?" You shrugged. 

"Just sleepy." You had never wanted to sleep in the passenger seat more than in that moment. 

"Hey, hey, babe. Let's get inside, then you can sleep in a big warm bed, okay?" Bradley started to panic, thinking you had already fallen back asleep. The sleepy flutter of your eye lashes informed him otherwise. You nodded, unbuckling your seat belt and sitting up a little bit. Bradley watched you closely, unbuckling his own seat belt. “You good? Gonna throw up or anything?” 

“No.” Another borderline whisper. Even though there was a thick mixture of sleep and alcohol coating your brain, it hung onto that one word. Babe. Bradley exiting the car and coming around to your side didn’t even register on your radar. Suddenly your door was opening, Bradley with a big warm smile staring at you. Why was he being like this? There was no one around to watch this fake arrangement currently, so why? 

“Come on, babe. We gotta get you inside.” There it was again. Bradley wrapped an arm under your armpits, you placing one around his shoulders. It was awkward, him being taller than you, but you two made it work. 

The two of you made your way slowly up the small driveway, to the steps leading to the door. Bradley quickly unlocked it, still holding onto you so you wouldn’t fall. It was like your legs were jello, barely supporting your weight without his help. You caught yourself onto the small bench in the foyer-like room, slumping back against the wall. Your eyes were trained on Bradley as he closed and locked the door. 

“Haven’t been this drunk in awhile, huh?” He asked, taking his coat off and hanging it up. Slow-motion had taken over your brain, slowing your movements. You had never realized how hard it was to unzip a coat until that moment. Bradley watched you struggle for a moment, finding your struggle with the zipper a little adorable. He hadn’t seen you this drunk since college. 

“Here, let me help you, babe.” That time something clicked in your brain. You let him take over on unzipping your coat, only for a jumbled question to exit you. 

“Why.. Why do you keep sayin’ it?” Bradley’s face scrunched together. He was now kneeling in front of you, taking your boots off because he knew that’d be a task you couldn’t handle. At least in your current state. 

“Keep saying what?” Bradley helped you up, holding you close to him until you were stable. 

“There’s no one around.” He shook his head, still confused. He led you into the kitchen, headed towards the stairs. You tripped a little up the stairs, Bradley shifted your weight more onto him for the trip up the stairs. 

“I’m still not sure what you’re talking about.” Bradley said, the two of you stumbling towards the bedroom. The wood floor under your feet felt slick, balance evading you due to the feeling. Just before getting to the bedroom, the slick sensation had you tumbling towards the wall. Bradley caught you from falling completely, pressing you into the wall with his body. The weight of his body on yours had your mind spinning. It was the first time you had fully opened your eyes since getting home. The mixture coating your brain was immediately gone, clarity appearing out of thin air. 

Bradley’s eyes flicked down to your slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss you so badly. It was like his mouth was salivating with need. His hazel eyes flicked back up to yours, taking in your wide eyes. Guilt immediately flooded over him, reminding himself of your current state and how this might come off.

“I- I’m just trying to hold you up.” Bradley stammered, pulling his body away from yours. 

“I know.” 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage of you or anything.” Bradley suddenly felt nervousness bubble in his chest. 

“Bradley,” you let out a long breath, “you keep calling me babe. Why? Nobody is around for the charade, so why?” You gestured to the empty hallway, emphasizing the nobody being there part of your sentence. 

Bradley’s face scrunched together. He hadn’t noticed himself calling you babe, but looking back he definitely did. In the car, getting you out of the car, taking your boots off. He called you babe each time. He knew why, but he was now nervous to tell you. 

“Habit.” He whispered. That whisper caught your attention. You narrowed your eyes at him, one of your hands creeping up to touch the black t-shirt under his flannel. The words were on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out. I love you. But instead your hand balled into a fist, pulling on the fabric of the shirt. You pushed off the wall, letting go of his shirt. 

“Of course it was.” You said. Bradley raised an eyebrow, not sure what your response really meant. He remained silent though as you started walking towards the bedroom, one hand out against the wall for support. He stayed in the hallway for a moment, cursing himself for not just telling you the truth. He wanted you to be sober for that though, wanted to know you’d remember it. He knew you weren’t black out, but he didn’t want you to write it off as your imagination. 

When he walked into the bedroom you were practically nude. Your sweater was off, jeans on the floor, currently struggling to get your bra off. Bradley quickly placed his hands on your hips, steadying you when you almost fell over. A gasp passed your lips, his searing hot hands on your skin. Bradley tried not to focus on the sensation of your panties barely touching the edge of his hands. His hands ghosted over your skin, finding their way to the clip of your bra. Your hands moved to the front of your chest, holding your breasts. 

“Let me help you,” Bradley let out a shaky breath, “before you hurt yourself.” You nodded, feeling the strap of your bra loosen. Bradley quickly found your sleep shirt, standing behind you once more. You let your bra fall, covering your chest with your hands still. Bradley got the shirt over your head, moving the collar of it down around your neck. You grabbed at the hem of the shirt, pulling it down around your body and putting your arms through the short sleeves. 

Then Bradley found your sweat pants. He kneeled down in front of you, his face level with your panties now. It took everything in Bradley not to press a kiss to your hip. Instead he guided each pant leg around your ankles, you putting a steady hand on his shoulder. Bradley was sure that his skin was going to have a mark, the warmth of your touch branding him for good. Marking him as yours and only yours. Your hand stayed on his shoulder as he stood up, trailing to the nap of his neck. He held back a gasp when he felt your finger lightly play with his hair. 

This was the most intimate thing Bradley had ever experienced. Yeah, he had fucked people in the past, but this? Dressing his best friend that he also had feelings for? He wasn’t sure if he would ever experience anything like it ever again. It was so sweet and tender. Just like the look you were giving him. 

“Sleep with me.” You whispered. 

Bradley was a goner. 

He nodded, helping you into bed before changing into his own clothes. You watched him change, eyes wandering all over his body. He crawled in the bed behind you, arm moving around your midsection. He pulled you tight against him, his chest flush with your back. You hummed lightly, basking in the warmth you had grown to love over the past few days. 

Some remnants of alcohol were starting to affect you once again. Thoughts swirled in your brain, finally working up the courage. It wasn’t like you hadn’t told him it before, like when he brought you a surprise cup of coffee or paid for the late night take out. It would be different this time though. 

“I love you.” Bradley almost didn’t hear the borderline whisper, but he did. 

There was a pause, one that started to fill you with doubt and anxiety. A part of you wished to take it back. Wanting to have not fucked up your entire friendship. A hot breath appeared on your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Bradley was leaning up towards your ear, wanting to make sure you heard every last word. 

“I love you, too.” 

-

Neither of you spoke about that night for the rest of the trip. There was a silent agreement established that night, Bradley sharing the bed with you. His makeshift bed was finally dismantled, and so did your denial of liking Bradley. After the drunken confession of your love, it was like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Bradley felt a similar sensation about saying it back. 

Penny and Pete both said you were more than welcome to come back. Amelia had mentioned she noticed something had changed between the two of you, but didn’t elaborate. So, you didn’t tell her what had changed. But you were sad to leave them, knowing that they were the ones inadvertently protecting you from conversation that needed to be had. 

But it never came. The entire car ride to the airport was almost a carbon copy of the previous drive. You got the GPS ready for Bradley then slept in the passenger seat. Bradley stole a few glances, trying to take as many mental pictures as possible. He was certain that whatever happened that night was a trip only occurrence. One he would never get the chance for ever again. 

The airport was almost empty, most people out celebrating for the New Years. Bradley told you that was the exact reason he booked the flight for New Years Eve. A forlorn feeling hung between the both of you. It felt like this was the end of the road. Neither of you had the courage to ask what was to happen now. You wanted to ask, ask if the two of you would be going back to occasional outings and late nights at the office. As much as you wanted to know, a part of you didn’t want to. If you knew, it would be final. 

Instead, you two only made small talk about the check in process. Casual jokes and borderline uncomfortable silences were exchanged before boarding. It was even worse on the plane. Bradley put his headphones in, flicking on a podcast to listen to while you curled up near the window. The rest of the flight was quick, the entire thing being only about two hours. The city that never slept had never felt more comforting when you got back. The drive from Queens to The Bronx was going to be long, the traffic of New Years in full swing. 

Music filled the space of the car, the two of you barely talking. The lights of the city teased you through the window. It was like they were poking and prodding your brain. Snowflakes hit the window and windshield, melting on impact from the warmth of the car. A dread filled the both of you as Bradley got closer to your apartment. It felt as though these bottled up emotions would stay as just that. Bottled up and left on a shelf in the back of your hearts. 

Even when Bradley pulled up to the curb, dropping you off, it was silent. Bradley stared straight forward, focused on the car parked in front of him. The sounds of your bags being pulled out of the car were clawing at his brain. They were the sound of his time running out. He could tell you at work on Tuesday, but maybe your feelings would be different by then. The closing on the backseat door pulled him out of his thoughts. You knocked on the window, gesturing for him to put it down. 

“Thank you.” You smiled warmly. “It was fun, meeting your family and seeing everyone. I’m glad I was able to help.” Your brain was screaming to say the three words, hoping he wouldn’t have forgotten the first time you said them. 

“Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for coming with and being my fake girlfriend.” Bradley wanted to kick himself as soon as he said it. He watched as your smile faded, giving him an affirming nod. 

“I’m gonna head up now. I’ll see you at work?” 

“Yeah, see you at work.” Bradley rolled the window up, watching you walk away. Your figure was altered by the droplets of melted snowflakes, making you seem more distant. Bradley felt a prickle at his waterline, knowing tears would be coming sooner or later. You opened the door for the stairway that led to your apartment, vanishing out of Bradley’s view. Bradley leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes tightly. 

Tears threatened to pour down your cheeks the entire walk up the stairs. For once you hated that you lived on the third floor. Hated that it gave you so much time to think about the day. All of the never ending silence. It was clear that there was something broken between the two of you. The relationship strained or shattered. You quickly slotted the key into the door, knowing that once you were in your apartment you would be okay. It would mean you were safe. Safe to let out all of your emotions. 

But no tears fell once you crossed the threshold of your apartment. It was almost a numbing sensation instead. You slipped your coat off with ease, hanging it up by the door. The urge to put your suitcase and carry-on away disappeared. It wasn’t until you sat on the couch everything hit you. No sob wracked through you, only silent tears fell. The warm streaks heated your face, your lips turning into a small frown. 

A knock at your door had you wiping away the tears. You had no idea why someone would be knocking on your door this late. After getting to the door you checked the peephole, seeing a rather worked up looking Bradley. Confusion coursed through your body, not sure why he would be back. He let you go, what did he want now? You unlocked the door, opening it to see Bradley’s eyes widen. 

“Bradley, wha-” His hands cupped both sides of your face, smashing his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss, the hairs of his mustache lightly poking your upper lip. It was like something exploded inside of you, spurring you on to kiss him back. 

The two of you made it into your apartment, Bradley kicking the door closed with his foot. You tried trailing for his lips when he pulled back from yours. Even though your lungs were burning for air, you wanted to feel more of him. His forehead pressed lightly against your own, hazel eyes boring into your own. 

“I love you.” Hearing those three words from Bradley cracked the bottle, letting your emotions flow freely. 

“I love you too.” A tear fell from the corner of your eye. Bradley swiped it away, pressing his lips to yours once again. A river of passion flowed freely between the two of you. Your arms trailed up to wrap around his neck and shoulders; one of his hands ghosting down to your waist, the other cupping your jaw still. 

Teeth and tongue clashed while the two of you moved to the hallway of your apartment. The wall pressed into your back as Bradley pressed his hips into yours. A whine broke from you when you felt his semi-hard cock pressing into your hip. Wet kisses trailed down to your jaw and neck, the scratch of his mustache intoxicating. Bradley moaned against your skin when he felt you tug on the hair at the base of his head. 

“I’ve been wanting this all trip. Kissing you like this, having you pressed against me like this.” Bradley whispered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. He pulled back to look at you, still cupping your jaw. His thumb softly rubbed your cheek, “I love you so much.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me that night?” The question passed your lips before you could stop it. Bradley nuzzled into the side of your neck, pressing soft searing kisses to your skin. 

“You were drunk.” Bradley slotted a leg between your thighs, rocking lightly to earn a moan from you. 

“Why not any other night?” Your words were breathy. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted it.” The hand on your jaw trailed down, cupping your breast over your knit sweater. Your hips bucked against his thigh, kisses trailing down your neck.

Both of his hands ghosted down to the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your body. Bradley marveled at the image before him. The person he had cared for for years looked so innocent before him. The soft pink bralette you wore enticed him, teasing him with what he could now have. It wasn’t until your arms pulled up to cover yourself slightly did his concern take over. 

A part of you felt nervous, finally having Bradley like this. Letting him see you so bare and vulnerable for him. It wasn’t his first time seeing you like this, a few college run ins and the instance during the trip. But this was different. You were offering your body up to him, trusting him to please you and care for every inch of you. It was subconscious when you shied away. 

“You do want this, right?” Bradley’s forefinger touched your chin, tilting your face. His hazel eyes were intoxicating and comforting. They let you know you were safe. You nodded. 

“I do, I want you.” Bradley pressed a soft kiss to your lips, mustache prickling your upper lip lightly. 

Strands of hair threaded through your fingers, you tugging softly to urge Bradley on.

Bradley picked up on it, hands ghosting down your sides to your hips. His tongue was soft on your lips, asking for permission to enter your mouth. His hips rocked into yours, you feeling his cock growing harder. Moans and whimpers fell from the both of you, rocking together while exploring each other's mouths. It felt like you were in high school again, the excitement of minimal contact vibrating through your body. 

Your fingers moved downward, trailing at the bottom of Bradley’s own sweater. He caught onto the hint, moving his torso back from yours to pull his sweater and t-shirt off. Rough yet soft fingers ghosted over the band of your bralette. The material felt almost as soft as your skin to Bradley, his cock twitching at the thought. His fingers trailed the material up to the strap that rested on your left shoulder. He eased it down, kissing at your shoulder and collarbone. 

“You’re so beautiful, so fucking beautiful.” The whisper on your skin sent goosebumps blossoming all over you. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.” Bradley’s fingers dipped below the band of your bralette, tugging up over your chest to expose your breasts. Your nipples were pert and eager for Bradley’s touch. 

One of your hands went to his hair, tugging as he took one of your breasts into his mouth. Your back arched off the wall, pushing your breast flush with his mouth. Gasps fell from your lips as his other hand came to your other breast, fingers pinching and playing with your other nipple. Bradley groaned against your tit, the vibrations traveling to your cunt. Your insides tightened, pleading you for more. 

“Bradley, please. I need more.” Bradley let your breast go from his mouth, pressing his hips tighter to yours. He rolled them, his cock rubbing at the apex of your thighs. 

“Tell me, Tell me you want me.” A red flush had grown up Bradley’s chest, adorning his neck and cheeks now. Your free hand trailed down his chest, the need to just touch him too great. 

“I want you to feel you,” the hand trailed up to his shoulder, “I want you to make love to me.” 

Bradley couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him. He smashed his lips into yours, hands cupping your breasts before traveling lower. He made quick work of the button on your jeans, messily shifting your pants down your thighs. A small giggle bubbled out of you as you chased his lips, not wanting the kiss to end. 

He kneeled in front of you, easing your jeans off your legs. Small soft kisses littered the front of your thighs with the accompaniment of pricks from his mustache. Fingertips ghosted up the sides of your legs, gently guiding your panties down. The kisses traveled up your thighs to your hips, both of your hands diving into his hair. Two fingers ran through your folds, briefly touching that sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, Bradley.” Bradley pressed his mouth to your folds, flicking his tongue between them. Your body lurched over him slightly, whining as his tongue ravished your clit. 

One of Bradley’s hands moved up to separate your folds, his tongue diving deeper between them. Small prickles of his mustache could be felt on your sensitive flesh, your fingers tightening in his hair at the feeling. The flicks of his tongue drove you crazy, a tense sensation in your abdomen forming. Your head fell back, moans pouring from your lips as Bradley continued his assault. 

“Your tongue feels so good.” It was barely above a whisper, laced with a moan as your hips started to push towards his face. 

Small ripples of pleasure coursed through you, adding to the imminent wave of pleasure that was about to crash over you. Bradley groaned against you, shaking his face back and forth on you. Bradley flattened his tongue, wiggling it back and forth across your clit. The motion was overwhelming, a shudder running through your body from it. You tried to pull him off of you, knowing if he kept it up you would be a goner. Bradley let you tug at his hair harshly, never budging from you. 

The wave of pleasure you had been anticipating crashed over you. Intense pleasure flooded your system, making it hard to think. All you could do was roll your hips against Bradley's tongue. Your hands kept him pulled tightly on you, mustache digging into your folds. Bradley didn't mind, the image of you unraveling on his face had his cock twitching in his jeans. The sounds falling from you were angelic to him. An endless mantra of his name with moans mixed in. 

"Brad-Bradley! Sto-stop!" Bradley finally pulled back, letting you get some much needed relief. There was a thin sheen to his mustache, the hallway light showing it at the right angles. 

"That was so hot." Bradley stood up, kissing you gingerly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for an intense kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a small wetness prickling your upper lip. 

One of your hands trailed down his chest, earning a groan from him. Only the fabric of his jeans and boxers separated the two of you. His jean clad hips rolled into your bare ones. You cupped him through his jeans, reminding you of his size. With one hand you unbuttoned his jeans, pushing your hand into his boxers. Bradley pulled back, resting his forehead against yours while letting out a loud groan. 

"Fuck, babe, your hand feels so good." Feeling him praise you lightly sent a shudder through you, your insides clenching. 

His cock was warm and velvety in your hand, pulsing and twitching with each stroke. Bradley's head drifted to your shoulder, lips haphazardly kissing at the skin. Your touch was intoxicating, his brain going fuzzy as your strokes continued. A tightness in his abdomen had started to form. One of his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling it from the inside of his boxers. 

"As much as I'd love for you to continue, I need to be in you now." Bradley whispered against your skin. His words had you arching, nodding your head in agreement. 

The thought of his hard cock opening you up, stretching you until you couldn't take it had you moaning. Your tits were pressed tightly against his chest as your lips collided once more. You pulled back from the kiss, taking his hand and leading him down the hallway to your bedroom. He rid himself of his jeans and boxers as soon as he got to your room. Bradley had you on the bed quickly, hands groping and massaging your sides. His lips ghosted over your skin as he slotted himself between your legs. 

His cock rested against your folds, twitching every now and then. The two of you kissed, consuming everything the other had to offer. Bradley rolled his hips into yours. His cock pushed through your folds and rubbed against your clit. Your legs fell further apart, preparing yourself for the pleasure that was about to come. Bradley pulled back from you. Your eyes locked with his as he grabbed the base of his cock. 

The head of his cock prodded at your entrance. Bradley watched your lashes flutter while he pushed into you. A gasp falling from your lips as he continued. Your gaze never broke his those. He watched your face as you took all of him, filling you to the hilt. 

Once Bradley bottomed out, he started pressing kisses all over you. His hips were still as he littered you with kisses. Forehead, cheeks, neck, jaw, shoulders. All touched by the tender grace of his lips. Gentle roaming of his hands around your body kept you grounded in this reality. The two of you sat there for a few moments, him peppering your skin as your walls adjusted to his size. A kiss was pressed to your cheek before he pulled back to look down at you. 

“Hey.” The word was barely above a whisper, one hand moving up to caress your cheek. 

“Hey.” You whispered back, leaning up to kiss him. Bradley shifted his hips, pulling back a little before pushing back in. 

It was a soft rocking pace he created. His hips slowly rolled, his hands moving to hike your legs up around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hand threading through his hair as he nuzzled into you. Moans and whimpers poured from the both of you, an occasional whisper of each other’s name. His pace picked up, hips moving slightly faster and harder.

“You feel so good,” Bradley groaned, “I don’t know how long I’ll last.” 

Every twitch of his cock you could feel. Your walls squeezed around him, earning a moan from the both of you. He slowed his thrusts for a moment, not wanting to come too soon. Bradley wanted this moment to last forever, even though he knew it wouldn’t. He stopped his thrusts completely, staying seated inside of you completely though. Bradley moved up to sit on his heels, looking down at you. 

His gaze raked over you, moaning when he saw his cock pressed into you. One of his hands settled between your breasts, trailing down to your hips. His thrusts picked back up, the new angle hitting that sensitive spot inside of you. Your walls were clenched tightly around him, the both of you letting your heads drop back. 

“If you do that one more time.” Bradley smirked as he looked down at you. You intentionally squeezed your walls around him, listening to the deep groan that emanated from his throat. 

“Or what?” You playfully joked. Bradley’s hands coasted down your legs, grabbing your hips tightly. 

“Or this.” Bradley almost pulled all the way out, his tip still inside of you. He rammed his hips forward, hitting that spot inside of you. Your back arched hard, an almost painful moan ripping from you. Bradley leaned back down over you, caging you in between his arms. 

“I love you.” Bradley whispered, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe. 

“I love you, too.” Bradley kept up a softer pace, edging the both of you closer to your climaxes. 

It was one of the most intense orgasms you had ever experienced. All your muscles tensing as pleasure rocked through your body once more. Emotions flowed from you, Bradley’s name filling the space around the two of you. You carded your fingers through Bradley’s hair, letting him know you had him. Bradley’s hips were stuttering, whines falling from the both of you as he came inside of you. 

Hot breath beated against your neck as you two laid there. Bradley was still inside of you, laying on top of you as he regained his breath. You kept carding your fingers through his hair, almost a mindless action now. A shudder ran through you once Bradley shifted, propping himself up on his arm. His eyes were soft when he looked down at you. 

“Hmm?” You questioned. 

“Just looking at you.” Bradley said, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “Happy New Years.” 

“Happy New Years.”

A whimper left you as he pulled out of you. A slick feeling replaced the new empty one, his cum dripping out of you. Bradley quickly hopped off the bed, heading to your bathroom to find a washcloth. 

“I’m sorry, I should have pulled out.” Bradley apologized, handing the warm wet washcloth to you. You shrugged, taking it to clean yourself. 

“As long as you buy the plan B.” Bradley smiled, nodding as he sat on the bed near you. He chewed at his bottom lip, nervous about the impending conversation. He had already put everything out on the floor. It was hard to take back ‘i love you’ while your entire dick was in someone. But it wasn’t like you hadn’t shared the same sentiment. You picked up on his nervousness though, reaching a hand out to touch his thigh. 

You tossed the washcloth across the room, silently cheering when it made it into the basket. Bradley took notice, elbowing you softly. “Nice shot.” 

“Thanks.” You stared at him for a little bit, taking in all of his features before speaking. “So, this?” You gestured between the two of you then scooted up the bed. Bradley laid back on the bed, you propping yourself up on your elbow next to him. Even though he was nervous, all he could think about was that you looked like an angel. 

“I love you,” Bradley started, “but more than a friend.” 

“Obviously, you goof.” You tried to keep a straight face, only to smile at him. “I love you, too. The trip really helped me see it.” Bradley nodded. 

“I knew before the trip. Well, for me, I did. Why else would you think I’d buy you so much coffee?” You lightly smacked his chest, his hand catching your hand. 

“I don’t know, maybe ‘cause you’re a good person.” You sat up, “I gotta pee.” 

“I am a nice person!” Bradley shouted as you took off for the bathroom. He got up, finding his boxers and slipping them on. 

He had been to your apartment many times, but only in your bedroom a few times. It was very you he noticed, now having the time to take it all in. There was a cork board on one wall. It was littered with pictures, ones from college and a few from the past few years. There was one specific one that stood out to him though. It was of the two of you, on that neither of you had taken. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you looked at one another. Must have been from an office party. It made him wonder if the two of you always looked like a couple to everyone. 

“What?” Bradley looked at you, taking in your new clothed form. It was only a baggy t-shirt and underwear, but god did he find it beautiful. 

“Just looking at these pictures. Wondering if we always looked this good together?” You bumped your shoulder into his arm playfully, looking at the same picture. 

“What are you implying?” You knew the answer, surely you did. Bradley turned to you, cupping your face with one of his hands. 

“I’m implying that I’d like to be in a relationship with you.” A flutter appeared in your chest when he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“I think I’d like that, too.”

[mendessi]

ii. the sun

The sun portends good fortune, happiness, joy and harmony. It represents the universe coming together and agreeing with your path and aiding forward movement into something greater.

paring: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you meet joel for the first time while working as a trauma nurse in the emergency room at a hospital in austin, texas. joel can't handle a few stitches so he distracts himself by flirting with you.

warnings: pre-outbreak, mentions of injury, blood, stitches, flirty/nervous!joel, mention of a car accident, me pretending i know what being a nurse is like, no use of y/n

masterlist

minors DNI

Your day had been ridiculously rough but thankfully it was coming to an end within the next two hours. It was Saturday which meant it was one of your longer shifts at the hospital and it felt like it had no end in sight.

There had been a game at the university which brought a ton of mid day drinking to underage college students who couldn't handle their alcohol. This also typically meant a ton of fights between the rivaling teams, drunk driving accidents, and typical college bullshit that never seemed to end during the football season. If there was one thing you had learned about Texans since moving there was that they take their football seriously. Especially for a school like UT.

"Talk about a rough day." You say to your co-worker when you both finally have a second to breathe at the nurse's station. You flip open a chart to ensure everything is set for a patient's release and then shut it.

"At least Bradley over there didn't throw up on your brand new sneakers." Belle said to you with a sigh.

"College boys, what can you do?" You say with a laugh.

"So cute and yet so so stupid." She looked down at her pager and then groaned. "Great. I gotta run."

You grabbed your stack of release papers off the printer, stapled them and then headed over to one of your patients for them to sign. Considering it had been an early game, the chaos was settling down in the ER and the shift was getting easier which was a good sign you'd actually be leaving on time.

"Alright then Mr. Olson, you're all set." You gave your best smile and then turned on your heel after receiving the necessary paperwork.

"Hey, can you grab bed three? Brad needs his IV changed." Belle said as she quickly passed you by.

"Brad? We're calling him Brad now?" You huffed throwing your arms up. "Belle, I'm supposed to be leaving now."

"Sorry, love you!" She didn't even turn to look at you as she hustled off towards bed six where Brad was still recovering from his alcohol poisoning.

You roll your eyes and pick up the chart for bed three, reading over it as you walk towards the patient. Injury to hand. Probably from a bar fight. You pull the curtain back with a smile, slighlty surprised that the man sitting on the edge of the bed was not a college student but a grown man. Half a relief.

"Mr. Miller?" You say, pulling up your chair to sit in front of him saying your spiel, "How are you doing? I'm a RN at Austin General and I'm just gonna see what's going on and hopefully we'll get you out of here in about an hour, yeah?"

"Joel, please." He says. You can't help but take note of how handsome he is compared to the other drunk men that have come into ER today. Either he sobered up due to the gaping cut in his hand or he had time to sober up on his drive over here. "You're not from round here are you?"

"Seattle. That obvious, huh?" You say with a laugh. "I'm just gonna take a look." You take his hand, pausing for a moment when he sucks a breath of air through his teeth.

You unravel the sketchy and poorly wrapped t-shirt around Joel's hand, hiding any reaction you have to gash in the palm of his hand that is still bleeding.

"Get into a fight?" You ask, trying to make light conversation after seeing his pained reaction to the injury.

"Yeah, you should see the other guy." He laughs lightly.

"What really happened?" You ask, grabbing the antiseptic to clean the wound. This man was far from drunk.

You could see by the dirt on his hands that this was not a bar fight and indeed probably just a work related accident. What, you couldn't guess, but the man in front of you didn't give off the energy he was coming down from being wasted.

"Tried catching a pane of glass that was falling over. Sliced right through my hand." He said, watching your hands as they worked. "Not gonna need stitches or nothin, will it?"

"I wish I could give you the answer you want." You tell him with empathy coming to the conclusion that it was deep enough to not heal on its own and would need stitches.

"Shit," He sighs.

"It'll take about ten minutes tops. Not too bad." You finish preparing the wound and grab a fresh pair of gloves and your suture kit.

"You gonna do em?" He asked.

"Yes sir." You look up at him again from your chair and his eyes meet yours. They're soft and brown, and you almost imagine what they'd look like in the sun. Probably like honey, you think.

"You ever had em before?" He asks and you gesture to the small scar on your temple.

"My cousin pushed me out of our tree house when I was five. Cracked my head open pretty bad. Seven stitches." You say. "If five year old me can handle it, thirty-four year old you can handle it."

"How old are you now?" He asks.

"Twenty-four." You reply, pushing his fingers open so that his hand is laying flat on the table in front of you.

"Pretty young to be a nurse, I'd say. Pretty though." He says and almost immediately after he face palms with his free hand. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."

You almost smile and then remember the amount of times you had been hit on today was astronomical between all of the college kids coming in and out of the ER. How hard could it possibly be for any men to keep their testosterone levels steady and not flirt with women simply trying to do their jobs. You do feel a little bit of empathy for him as needles do seem to make him nervous but you've had a hard, never ending day so nothing amuses you.

You look up at him with a blank stare, "Try to move as little as possible."

"Tell me somethin true." He says as you begin your first suture. He keeps his eyes on you but you're focused on stitching his hand back together.

"Such as?"

"About you." He releases a shaky breath and you notice his finger tips start shaking slightly. The caring person you are feels sorry for him. He does seem like a nice guy who is just dealing with the fact that he has a four inch slice in his hand.

"I think I'm quite an open book." You say, your eyebrows furrowing as you work carefully on his hand.

"I'd say the opposite." His voice is low and it's hard to tell if he's struggling to hold his composure or if he's still trying to flirt.

"I entered this field because when I was twelve I was in a pretty brutal car accident. I was in the hospital for weeks but the nurses that cared for me quickly became my reason for living. I was miserable, it was quite literally the worst time of my life, but I was excited to wake up everyday because I knew they'd be there to greet me. They were just doing their jobs, but it was so much more for me. I wanted to do that for other people." You talk quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. As you go on, you notice his fingers stop shaking and the muscles in his arm that were tense relax.

"I think you're doin a stand up job." You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. "You're makin this this thing a whole lot easier."

That was definitely flirting. Though, looking at him now, you don't seem to mind it much anymore.

"You flirt with women every time you go into their workplace?" You ask. You're half joking. What's the worst that can happen, you'll flirt, he'll be discharged and then you'll never see him again.

"Only the pretty ones." You look into his eyes, yours narrowed as you judge his words. He's not smiling anymore.

"You think I'm pretty." It comes out more as a statement than a question. You almost flip your hair but then remember you're supposed to be suturing his hand.

"I think you're the most stunning woman to ever walk the streets of Austin." He's 100% serious and you can tell he means what he's saying.

You're cheeks are red at this point and there's no hiding it. "You're not half bad compared to the boys that have been in and out of this ER today."

"That's cus I'm a man." He straightens his posture and you can't help but laugh at the bad line. "That was a bad one, m' sorry."

"Good to know." You glance at him and cut the suture. You wrap a bandage around his hand and then scribble stuff down on his papers. "Seven stitches."

"What time are you out of here?" He asks as he examines your work on his hand.

"As soon as you're gone." You say standing up. "I'm gonna grab your discharge papers and I'll be right back."

"Let me take you to dinner." He states more than asks.

"I don't go out with patients." You say before walking away to the nurses station located in the center of the floor.

As you print his papers and sign and date them you can feel his eyes on you but you avoid looking up. He was probably the only sober man you spoke with today and while yes he was extremely handsome, he was at least ten years older than you. You never really cared about that before so the only thing stopping you was your suddenly made up rule about not dating patients. You had never once been officially been asked out by a patient only tragically flirted with by every college kid that walked into building. The rule was bullshit and you knew it. What could one date hurt? He was charming and you didn't want to admit it.

"Okay, Mr. Miller you're all set. Just sign these for me and you're good to go." You slide him the discharge papers and wait patiently for him to sign them. He hands them back to you, a smug smile on his face.

"Thanks for everything." He says and you nod.

"Stay safe." You tell him and then turn on your heel back to the nurses station where you quickly file his paperwork and clock out. You grab your things and wave bye to your co workers as you head for the door.

"Hey," You look up from your pager and find Joel Miller waiting for you.

"Mr. Miller." You greet him, shoving your pager into your pocket. "Stalking me?"

"Joel. It's dark outside, figured I could walk you to your car." He says matching your pace which is always at a default fast pace, though it must be easier considering his legs are longer than yours.

"Sure you're not gonna kidnap me once we get there?" You ask with a huff.

"With my crippled hand against you? No chance, you'd take me out easily." He smiles.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" You look both ways before crossing the street into the parking lot, he still keeps up with you standing at your side.

"As a matter of fact I would." He says and you finally look at him as you reach your car. You cross your arms over your chest and stare at him for a moment before speaking.

"Fine." You pull your phone from your pocket and hand it to him to put his number in.

"Really?" He tries to hide his excitement but he fails as the smile spreads from cheek to cheek as he punches the numbers in on your phone.

"I'll call you tomorrow." You say when he hands your phone back.

"I'll be waitin." He pulls your door open and you get in as he smiles at you until he closes the door. "Stay safe."

You never would've have given him your phone if it were anyone else but there was something about Joel Miller that you knew you could trust. You knew he'd never try to physically harm you and you knew that he wasn't being weird with his action. The nerves of getting stitches brought out a flirty side of him that was amusing to watch.

He could pretend that the only reason he asked you out was because you were "the most stunning woman to ever walk the streets of Austin" but it realistically was the fact that you were caring (whether it was just your job or not), you were kind (even when he was relentlessly flirting with you) and it was easy to tell you didn't put up with anyone's bullshit.

The truth is, Joel Miller never would've flirted with you if you were anyone else. He hadn't even thought of another woman since Sarah entered the world. He had never gotten stitches before so the nerves were eating at him but you opened up to him and alleviated his nerves. You had a bright aura, one that resembled the sun on a winter day, the moment when it emerges from the clouds and everything is suddenly warmer. You made him feel eased despite the throbbing pain of the cut in his hand or the process of getting stitched up.

That night was simple to the start of your relationship. Despite the clouds that surrounded you that night, Joel brought out the sun.

tag list: @aphrcdites @rey26

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[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 2

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley hang out after meeting at the frat party, and he quickly begins to regret coming up with the cruel bet once he gets to know you.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

When Bradley woke up the next morning in his bed with the worst hangover he’s ever had, he made the same old promise to himself that he’d never drink again - when he knew he would be opening up a bottle by the end of the next week. 

He rolled over and his arm instinctively reached for Bri, and when it fell flat against his bed instead of over her waist, he remembered what happened the previous morning.

His head was pounding as he pushed himself up into a seated position and looked around his messy room. Various beer bottles were strewn around, and he knew he didn’t drink that much last night, let alone in his room, so he knew someone else was in here getting drunk during the party. 

He really needed to start locking his door. 

Bradley groaned as he sat up and lazily threw his comforter over his bed in a half-assed attempt to make it before venturing off to his bathroom. He splashed a bit of water on his face then opened the medicine cabinet in a search for painkillers, taking them dry when he found them. 

When he closed the cabinet he was met with the tired face of a twenty two year old who had been recently dumped and discarded as if he was nothing but a fucktoy. His eyes were a bit red and his neck sported a dark hickey he received from that same girl who broke up with him. His scars were a light pink in color and were raised from his skin, making it look like he went face first through a glass table. He hoped they would fade fast, but he also wasn’t counting on it.

In other words, he hated his current appearance. 

He scowled at himself before turning the light off and sulking back into his room. Just as he began to debate on whether or not he should just go back to bed and sleep off the hangover, his phone went off from its place on his nightstand. 

Maybe it was Bri? 

He felt pathetic for hoping it actually was her texting him and confessing that she wanted him back. Eli was right, she really did do a number on him. 

When he unlocked his phone he was met with a name he briefly remembered hearing last night, and he tightly shut his eyes as he tried to recall how this person had gotten his number. 

Y/n: How’s the hangover? Bearable enough to leave the house? 

Y/n. 

All color drained from Bradley’s face as he realized that this was the girl he was currently in a bet for. 

God, what the fuck did he get himself into last night?

Hey, yeah, it’s bearable. As for leaving the house….depends. What are you up to?

He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t blocking your number and calling off the bet. This was bound to end in disaster, and he didn’t want to be the reason for your potential pain or heartbreak. 

Y/n: I’m actually surprised you responded. I was prepared to be ignored, I thought you would’ve forgotten most of last night. 

Bradley sat down and tried to recall the events of the prior night, and he wanted to punch himself in the face when he remembered what he had involved himself in. No, for what he created. 

He wasn’t going to go through with that bet. He couldn’t. 

But what is the harm in befriending another student? Bradley did think you were really cute last night, and if he remembered correctly, you were into him as well. 

No, I remember you. You were the cute one standing alone in the corner of my dining room, right?

Your response had him laughing just a bit as he tugged off his tee and began searching for a new one.

Y/n: Guilty. That was one embarrassing fact I didn’t want you to remember. I hate parties.

After dressing himself in a white, loose-fitting tee and dark jeans, Bradley pulled open his bedroom door with one hand while he used the other to text you back. 

I’m happy to know you made an exception for mine. It was nice talking to you last night, we should hang out again. This time sober. 

He hoped he wasn’t being too forward, but if he was just embarrassing himself right now, UVA was big enough to avoid you if it came down to it. 

He didn’t need to though. 

Y/n: What are you doing later?

-

Fratley: Meeting up with this cute girl I met last night? 

Your face heated up a bit as you shoved your phone into your pocket just as Sam walked through the front door. The small smile that had formed on your lips vanished as you met her eyes, and you could see the nervousness in them. “Oh, you’re home,” you state as you stand up from the couch. “Did you have fun with Tanner last night? I assume that’s where you were as you failed to come home. Nice to see you’re still alive, by the way.”

Sam dropped her jacket and purse onto the coffee table as she walked towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you last night, that wasn’t what I intended to do at all,”

She sounded sincere but you were still annoyed. “As long as you didn’t intend to,” you give her a fake smile as you go to walk around her. “Tan seems nice.”

“Y/n,” she stopped you by placing her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. Don’t be mad at me.”

You probably would’ve dropped the attitude if she hadn’t decided to say that last sentence. “Don’t be mad?” You scoffed as you headed towards the kitchen and grabbed your school bag. “I didn’t even want to go to this party, remember? I went for you, and you ditched me.”

Sam rolled her eyes as she reached down to rid herself of her heels. “I saw you talking to some guy last night, too, Y/n/n, so I didn’t leave you alone completely,”

You held back a noise of frustration as you slipped your bag over your shoulder and opened the door. “You shouldn’t have left me alone at all,” was all you said before you stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind you. 

With a newly soured mood, you head out to the campus grounds, despite your class not starting for another forty five minutes. 

Sam has always been like that, and you weren’t sure why you continued to put up with her. She was selfish, to put it simply, and didn’t want to show up to that party last night alone. That’s why she invited you, and that’s why she ditched you as soon as she found someone better to spend her time with. 

You drop your bag onto a bench and sit next to it, pulling out your phone as you did so. Scrolling through various apps, you tune out the rest of the world as you try to calm yourself down. 

While Sam never failed to piss you off at times like this, she is still your best friend, and you didn’t want to say anything to her that you would probably end up regretting in the end. This was the best way to ensure that didn’t happen.

Just as you clicked off one of the apps, a notification pops up from a number you debated on blocking more than once now, and without thinking much of it, you pressed it. 

Luke♡: Can we talk? I miss you. I think we should get on the same page here, before you start school again. 

 You rolled your eyes and shoved your phone in your bag. Now he wanted to talk? You had waited all summer for him to take the first step and reach out to you, but he never did. Well, not until now. “Fuck off,” you muttered and jumped a bit when you heard a laugh come from above you. 

“Wow, clearly I got the wrong impression from our texts this morning,” a somewhat familiar voice teases, making you look up and meet the eyes of Bradley, the guy you met last night. “You know, I thought we connected last night, but I guess not.” 

You huff out a laugh and cover your face with your hands as embarrassment takes over your body. “I’m sorry, you caught me in a mood,” you weakly defend your previous words.

“Did I? You seemed at least a little happy over text earlier, so unless you’re really good at hiding what you’re actually feeling,” he trailed off as he adjusted the strap of his bag. “Or you just got a text from someone you hate.”

You laugh again and shake your head, “Hate is a strong word,” you reply. “But, yeah, I just got a text from someone I’m not particularly fond of at the moment.”

He grins down at you and you were powerless to stop your own smile from forming when he said, “Sounds fun,” and then gestured to the empty spot beside you. “Can I sit?” 

You nod quickly, moving over and setting your bag down on the ground. “Yeah,” you answer, giving him another shy smile once he sits next to you. “Sorry, you caught me earlier than I expected. I guess I’m more confident over text.” 

Bradley shrugged, placing his bag next to yours. “I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured. “You seemed pretty confident last night.”

You laugh, bringing your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, well, that was when I was drinking pretty much straight vodka,” you said back. “And I’d be really surprised if you can remember any of our conversation. You were really drunk.”

“I was not,” he scoffed. “I was barely tipsy.”

“Yeah, right,” you playfully roll your eyes. “You looked like the definition of a heartbroken guy before I finally got you to cheer up a bit at the end.”

He shook his head, draping his right arm along the backrest of the bench. “Pretty sure I was the one who cheered you up,” he pointed out. “You seemed pretty down before I came over and saved you from a boring night.”

You shrugged, “It was still half boring,” you hold back a grin and take the time to look over his features. His eyes were a pretty shade of brown and you noticed that the left side of his face held various scars that were nearly fully healed. They went all the way down to his neck, stopping at the base of his throat, and you quickly looked away as you thought about how painful it must’ve been to receive them. You also took notice of the obvious hickey on his neck that looked just about as painful as the scars. “But yeah, I guess you saved me from a night of misery.”

He laughed, and it sounded like he was surprised that you had actually gotten that reaction out of him. “It was that bad, huh?”

“I just really don’t like parties,” 

Bradley nodded before looking around at the campus. Multiple students were walking to and from class, and some were lounging about on the grass, and the busy surroundings had him leaning towards you. “I don’t really like them either,” he confessed, making you raise your brows in shock. 

“Wait, really?” You ask, looking around as well before focusing your gaze back on him. “Why do you have them then?”

He shrugged, moving back to his original place. “So I don’t piss off my roommates,” he answered and you nod understandingly. 

“Yeah, my roommate kinda sucks, too,” you mumble and feel his intense stare on you. When you look up and see his boyish smile, your face heats up and you look away again. “But I kinda love her. I mean, I kinda have to…we’ve been best friends for nearly ten years now.”

Bradley went quiet for a few seconds. “I wish I had friends like that,” he mumbled. “Or even just one. All the guys I know are pricks.”

You furrow your brows, wondering how a simple conversation with him left you feeling like you had known him for years. “So…why are you friends with them?”

He meets your eyes again. “It’s easier to not get attached to people,” he replied and you stay silent. No more words are shared between you for a few beats before he added in a much lighter tone, “So, do I get to find out who the asshole is that made you so mad?”

You let out a surprised laugh and shake your head. “No, that’s a story for another time,” you say and grab your bag. “I gotta get to class.”

Bradley stood up, too. “So…there will be a next time?” He asked and you blush a bit as he almost sounded hopeful with that question. 

“Do you want there to be?” You ask in return, watching as he held back a smile and leaned down to grab his own bag.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied. “What are you doing later?”

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, you back away from him as you offer, “Meeting up with the hot guy I met last night?” 

-

Fuck, you were nice. And really pretty. And really fucking nice. 

How could Bradley ever go through with the dumb fucking bet when it’s you who he’d be undoubtedly hurting in the end?

He had already decided that he was going to forget ever coming up with that idea, and maybe he could even form something with you. He was still hung up on Bri, so he wasn’t planning on anything other than a simple friendship, and if he was able to get her back in the long run, then that was just a bonus. 

Besides, Bradley could use a few decent people in his life, and you seemed to be far more than that. 

He was actually pretty excited about hanging out with you later. Bri was kind of right, he didn’t leave the house much at all during the summer break, and he was beginning to realize that he hated being stuck inside all day when he was by himself. 

Who knows, maybe this will get Bri’s attention, too. 

A few hours pass before Bradley decides to text you for more details about where you were going, and your response had him laughing quietly to himself.

Y/n: I have no idea…was really hoping you would decide what we’re doing.

You seriously have no idea where to go?

Y/n: Not a single one.

Bradley laughed again before looking around his room as if it’ll help him come up with something. Just as he was about to suggest a simple fast food place, his eyes caught sight of the pamphlet he had been given a few weeks ago from some guy on the street. 

He was trying to go pick up dinner for him and Bri when the guy handed him the pamphlet for the Botanical Gardens that had been recently renovated and supposedly looked better than ever. 

Bradley, having a hard time saying no to people, took the pamphlet with a forced smile as he continued on his way, and he had tossed it on his dresser when he returned home with the food. He never moved it or threw it out, and when he looked it up online, he saw that the reviews for the gardens were all positive.

That could be a nice place to go to, right?

I might know a place, just as long as you’re not allergic to any kind of plant or flower. Are you free soon?

Y/n: I am not…I’m also intrigued. And yes, whenever you’re available.  

He sent you the address and asked if you wanted to meet there since it was a five minute walk from campus, and you agreed. He debated on whether or not he should offer to walk with you to the gardens, but decided against it, not wanting it to seem like a date.

He was just meeting new people, that’s all.

Bradley changed his shirt to a plain black tee before leaving his room and frat house. He pockets his wallet after making sure he had enough cash in it to cover both his and your admission tickets, then he was making his way across the campus towards the entrance gates. 

As he passed by the dorm Bri lived in, he made eye contact with the guy from the party last night. What was his name again? Bradley had no clue, but he was sure he would’ve forgotten it all over again when his gaze drifted to the left and met Bri’s. She was already looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face as he stood next to the nameless guy. 

Bradley stopped walking as he held her gaze, and he was about to raise his hand in a wave when she broke eye contact and turned to face the guy again. He watched as she leaned up and began placing kisses to Jensen’s, he thinks, throat. 

He knew she was doing it just to rile him up, that much was obvious as she glanced over at Bradley as Jensen led her back inside the building, and it was working. Bradley felt his body heat up in anger as he watched his ex-girlfriend of a single fucking day be practically carried back to her room. 

She wasn’t his anymore, so he didn’t really have a right to be mad. He was also seeing other people, but he wasn’t planning on making out with you later, he was just planning on talking to you like a normal person who just got broken up with. 

It made him think that Bri was seeing other people while she was with him, and he hated the fact that despite that possibility, he still wanted her back. 

But he knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. She just had to have her fun, maybe fuck a few different guys then come back to him. He just had to wait. 

Not wanting her to ruin his otherwise good day, Bradley pushes his thoughts of her to the back of his mind as he leaves the campus grounds. The short walk helped cool him off, and by the time he got to the gardens, he was feeling content again. His eyes met yours, and you gave him a nervous smile and wave as you stood near the doors. “Hi,” you greeted him in a quiet voice. 

“Hey,” he said back, looking down at the floral print dress you were wearing. “You look pretty.”

Your smile widens as you, too, look down at your dress. “Oh, thanks,” you trail off, looking behind you at the indoor garden. “I had on something more casual, then I looked up the address and decided to change. I hope it’s not too formal.” 

Bradley shakes his head. “No, you look nice,” he glanced down at his black tee and jeans. “A lot better than what I have on.”

You beam at him, “I think you look good,” you say then quickly add, “You know, in a casual way.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips as he shakes his head again and gestures towards the doors. “Do you wanna go in?” He asked as he took out his wallet. 

“Sure, but I already got our tickets,” you reach into your bag and pull out two tickets, making Bradley pause with hand still in his pocket. “I got here a few minutes before you did, so I went ahead and bought them.”

Bradley raised a brow as he pulled his wallet out. “Okay. Thanks,” he said, flipping through the few tens he had in there. “How much was it?” 

You waved him off and handed him one of the tickets. “Don’t worry about it,” you say with a shy smile as you step around him and head towards the entrance. “It’s been a while since I’ve actually gone somewhere, so I don’t mind buying the tickets.”

He opened his mouth in protest, but promptly closed it again when you gave him a pointed look. “Okay,” he said again with a laugh as he put his wallet back in his pocket. “But just so you know, I plan on paying for something else in the future.”

“Hey,” you tease as he moves to stand next to you, and you both show the girl at the entrance your tickets. “We haven’t even made it through today, it’s too early to be talking about us hanging out again.”

Bradley laughed, putting the ticket in his pocket afterwards as you put yours back in your bag. “You’re right,” he nodded. “This could end horribly and we might never talk again.”

You glance back at him with a small smirk. “And what a shame that would be,” 

A thing Bradley noticed even last night was that you and he bounced off each other pretty well. Whatever he put out there, you gave right back to him with the same amount of energy. It was a nice change to Bri’s constant bickering. 

Bradley quickens his pace until he’s walking next to you, and as you and he walk together, he notices just how pretty you are. You looked nice earlier in casual clothing, and you looked nice now, and he was quickly beginning to realize that maybe you are his type after all. 

He said to Wes and Eli last night that you weren’t, but he was also pretty drunk and wasn’t able to see you in proper lighting. Now that he’s seen you in broad daylight, he could easily say that you definitely are his type, and you were very pretty. 

He actually had a hard time looking at anything else but you as you gazed around at the various plants and flowers. Your dress matched the daisies you were standing next to now, and he knew he needed to get a hold of himself before he did something embarrassing. 

Yeah, you were pretty and he was attracted to you, but he was still upset about Bri. He didn’t really pay much attention to other girls when he was with her, so he couldn’t be blamed that he was feeling like this after allowing himself to talk to one after being dumped by his her. 

“So, what made you choose this place?” You ask and turn to face him, making Bradley quickly look away and move closer to this red colored plant in hopes it looked like he was observing it instead of you. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, lifting his hand and running the tip of his finger along the stem before turning to you. When he looked at your pretty eyes, he decided against making up some answer as he didn’t feel the need to pretend with you, and that in itself was a surprising discovery. “I got handed this pamphlet for it a while back, thought it might be worth checking out.” 

You press your lips together and nod as you run your fingers along a rose bush. “Let me guess,” you look over your shoulder at him with a teasing smile. “It was some preacher that you got stuck with at the crosswalk.”

Bradley laughed unexpectedly at how spot on your guess was, and he nodded as he followed after you. “That’s exactly what it was,” 

You face forward again and follow the stone path with him close behind you. “You gotta learn how to say no, Bradley,” you joke, and he was stopping in his tracks at the fact that you called him by his actual name and not some dumb nickname he hates. Bri, Wes and Eli have always called him Brad or Bradshaw, despite him telling them over and over again that he hates it. 

He grew tired of correcting them on it, thus resulting in him just putting up with it. To hear you call him by his real name was refreshing in a way, and he grew to appreciate you a bit more. “Yeah, well,” he replied as he moved quickly to catch up with you again. “It gave us a place to go to, right?”

You turn to face him with a shrug, “That’s true, I guess,” 

Bradley felt his heartbeat quicken at how natural this all felt, and he knew he really needed to get a grip. You were the first girl he’s hung out with in months, he just wasn’t used to anyone other than Bri. 

“So, what are you majoring in?” He asked, changing the subject to a more boring one in hopes it would actually dampen the conversation, because this was going really well and Bradley had a bad habit of ruining things. 

“Creative Writing,” you answer as you turn to face him and lean against a heavy stone vase. “I’ve been really into journalism for most of my life, and I got good grades in high school. My English teachers would often try to guide me into doing something with writing once I started applying to colleges.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” he hummed, leaning against the vase opposite to you. When you just playfully roll your eyes, he adds, “I mean it. I could never do all that creative shit that writers do.”

You give him a poorly hidden smirk, “You mean write?” You ask, making his face heat up a bit as he raises a brow. “That’s pretty much all we do. That and read. A lot.”

“Haha,” he said, watching the way your lips curved upwards. “You’re funny.”

You shrug as you push yourself off the vase. “I get that a lot,” you reply, running your hand along the smooth stone of the pots. “What are you majoring in?” 

“Political Science,” he answered and you give him what he thinks is an impressed look. 

“Nice,” you dragged the word out with a grin and he felt a smile form on his own lips. “You must be smart then.”

“Definitely the smartest in my fraternity,” he responds and you laugh with an eye roll.

“Yeah, no offense, but I think most people are smarter than your frat buddies,” you trail off, pausing by a small fountain. “I saw a few of them last night, and they don’t seem the brightest. You should give yourself more credit.”

Bradley stopped by the fountain as well and just looked at you in slight awe. Bri always called him dumb or insinuated that he wasn’t smart, so to have someone actually believe he wasn’t just some dumb frat guy was a bit reassuring. 

He knew he needed to stop comparing you to Bri, but you were so different in so many ways, it was kind of hard not to. He also felt bad that he couldn’t get his ex out of his head while he was with you.

At his lack of response, you add, “But who am I to assume?”

Bradley shook his head quickly, moving to stand next to you. “No, you’re right to assume,” he said, staring down at you. The height difference was very noticeable with you. Bradley had always been a tall guy, but he looked huge next to you. It made him feel like he had to protect you for some reason, and he knew he really needed to get out of his head because this was getting a bit ridiculous. “Wes and Eli are probably the dumbest guys I know.”

You furrow your brows, “But they’re your friends?” You asked for clarification, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he trailed off, not wanting to get into that right now. While he couldn’t stand Eli and Westley half the time, he still cared for them, despite their very unlikeable personalities. “I guess they’ve always been there for me.” Hardly, but you didn’t need to know the full details. 

You give a tight smile. “Well, that’s good then,”

That conversation died right then and there, but before it could get awkward, Bradley’s lips curved into a smirk as he leaned closer to you. “I have a question,” he started, making you look up at him in interest. 

“Shoot,”

His smirk grew at that. “Earlier on campus, when you had to go to class,” he paused, watching as realization dawned on you. He wore the smuggest grin as he asked, “Did you mean it when you called me hot?”

A blush spread all over your face as you broke eye contact and suddenly became very interested in the bleeding hearts next to the fountain. “You, uh…you caught that, huh?” You ask and he just nods. “Should I have not said that? I’m sorry, it’s just, you called me cute and I saw the opportunity and I took it.”

Bradley shrugged, “Because you are cute,” 

The blush covered more of your face and further proved his words, “Well,” you clear your throat, beginning to walk away from him. “Now that we’ve settled that.”

“No, I don’t think we have just yet,” he called after you, catching up with you in just two strides. “You didn’t answer my question.”

You give him an innocent look that he found himself wanting to so badly corrupt. “What was the question?”

 Bradley moved to stand in front of you, successfully stopping you from walking away from him. “Do you think I’m hot?” He asked again, giving you a sly grin. “You can lie to me, it’s okay.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re hot, Bradley,” you say, making his grin soften a bit as you move past him. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Time went by quickly after that, unfortunately, and it was dark out when the two of you finally left the gardens. It was still summer, but the nights were slowly but surely getting colder, that much was evident as the sun had disappeared and left a cool chill in its place. 

You cross your arms over your chest as you and he stand in the same place you were in before you went into the gardens, and Bradley felt bad that he didn’t check to see if the temperature was going to drop. Maybe he could’ve prevented the multiple chills that ran through both your bodies. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, getting your attention as you gazed up at him with your pretty eyes. “I didn’t think it would be this cold earlier. I should’ve prepared better.”

You wave him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it,”

Bradley looked around the dark street and squinted in the direction of the campus. “Hey,” he said as he turned back to face you. “Can I walk you back to your place? I know it’s still early, but I don’t like the thought of you walking home alone in the dark.”

You smile at him and it only grows when he offers you his arm, “Such a gentleman,” you observe, wrapping both your arms around his and clinging to his body heat. “Yes, you can walk me home.”

The walk back to campus was relatively silent, but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest. When you stopped at the doors of a dormitory, Bradley reluctantly moved his arm away, and he missed the feeling of you being so close already. 

“Well, this is it,” you state the obvious with a teasing glint in your eyes. “I had fun, so…thanks, Bradley.” 

“Me too,” he said back, and he was completely honest. Even though he had spent the last two hours looking at plants, he didn’t feel bored once. He knew it was because of you. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate for attention, but he had a strange feeling that you wouldn’t mind if he did.

“Definitely,” you say back as you grab your keys from your bag, but before you could fully turn away, you glance back at him. “Is it okay if I call you Bradley? I should’ve asked earlier, but it kinda slipped my mind. I’ve heard others refer to you as Brad, so did you want me to call you that instead?”

Bradley grinned at you as he shook his head, “Please don’t,” he begged. “I fucking hate that nickname.”

A smile breaks out on your face and you nod. “Okay,” you breathe out. “See you tomorrow, Bradley.”

He nods, too, and watches as you enter the dorm and disappear down the hall. 

You really were too sweet for him, and he couldn’t believe he made a bet on you with his fucking frat buddies. You didn’t deserve that, even if the details of the bet would never be told to you. Not as long as he had a say in it. 

Was Bri even worth it? Did she even want him back? Was he just wasting his time with her when he could be spending it with someone a lot nicer instead?

Those questions loomed in his brain as he made his way across campus, and as he stood outside his frat house, he thought he had the answers when he felt his phone go off in his pocket. 

Bri ❤️❤️: Hey, saw you on the quad today. Sorry for not saying hi, I had company. Nice to see that left your man cave for once.

Maybe it was working after all.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor." 

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out. 

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here? 

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot. 

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem." 

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away. 

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up. 

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor. 

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started. 

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand. 

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air. 

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up. 

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down. 

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland. 

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong. 

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board. 

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker. 

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there. 

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago. 

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him. 

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon. 

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile. 

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools. 

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat. 

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice. 

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed. 

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? 

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket. 

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect. 

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later. 

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake." 

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent. 

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her. 

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight. 

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back. 

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh. 

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed. 

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

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[dancewithdeath11]

The Hangout

Pairing: CollegeYears!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley invited reader over for a kick back

Warnings: CollegeYears!Bradley, Freshmen!Reader, Inexperienced!Reader, attending UVA, kissing, slight angst, drinking (not drunk), baby-age gap(Reader is legal, I’m fully abusing canon and making him older than the rest of them???)

Word Count: 4.8k

Part: 1/?

======

Knock knock knock

With a slight huff you stepped back a little. You could hear people inside and yet nobody was answering. Half tempted to call, you pulled out your phone. 

Then the door opened quickly, making you flinch. It wasn’t who you expected at all. He was familiar though.. “Hey- sorry for spooking you..” The familiar looking stranger said, an awkward smile on his lips. Cute.. “Come in, uh- everyone is in the kitchen.” He opened the door a little wider. “I’m Bob, by the way.”

You nodded, giving him your name as the two of you walked into a kitchen-living area. There are very few people you recognize. The kitchen is bustling, the counter has a few cases of beers and bottles of wine. You clutched onto your cheap box of cocoa powder as you said a quick, excuse me to Bob and made your way deeper into the kitchen. 

You made a b-line straight to the very person you were here for. Bradley.. Clad in a tacky Hawaiian shirt and jeans. “Hey, you made it!” He smiled brightly down at you. 

Fuck, he was so hot…

“Yeah..I had to run to the store really quickly before I stopped here.” You nodded and he made his way over to the fridge. You trailed him like a goddamn puppy.

“You want anything? A drink? Alcohol or no? Or do you want food? Nat is cooking but that probably won’t be done for a bit..” He rattled off as he opened his fridge and stuck his head in. At first you hesitated, but you also knew you should probably eat if you were going to drink. And you were hungry as shit anyways. 

“I could eat..” You muttered softly to him, carefully reaching out and grabbing a can of Coors from the door. Luckily he heard you over the loudness of the kitchen. 

“Sweet or savory?” He questioned, but he didn’t let you answer before he was pulling something out. “Actually, here,” He turned, his brown eyes dropping to your hands before he met your eyes again, offering a wink. “It’s my favorite.” Looking down you see it’s a plastic package of salami. 

It had you giggling as he took the cocoa powder from you and set it down on the counter behind him. “Salami?” You asked through your laughter. 

“What?” Bradley chuckled, a deep rumble that had you wanting to lay your cheek against his chest to feel it. You shook off the thought. “It’s good.” So you just shrugged as he walked past to his friends. Promptly leaving you alone. Biting down on your bottom lip you walked towards the only other person you knew by name. Taking a seat between yet another stranger and Bob as you ate some salami from the package. 

Quickly you were swept up into a conversation with Bob. He was quieter than the rest but he was a great listener and was asking you questions. So you were more than willing to answer and talk to him about the latest things going on at school. Eventually a woman, Nat, joined in and took over on asking the questions. 

“So, is there any drama going on in the freshmen class?” She asked after you finished talking about your major for the second time over that night. 

“Not really…I’m sure there is but I don’t really get involved with that stuff.” You nodded slightly to her. Sipping on your beer, feeling how light it’s gotten already. The woman muttered something under her breath before snapping her fingers. 

“Do you know, uhmmm shoot what's his name- Alex Klarkson?” 

You perked up at the name, “Yeah, I know him, but he’s a creep. Why?” You frowned recalling one disturbing interaction with the guy. He says some of the most outrageous dirty things that you’d ever heard. Everything out of his mouth is either sexist or racist. 

“Great! I don’t like him either, he was in my orientation group.” She groaned with a roll of her eyes. But then she smiled and leaned against the counter. “So why do you hate him?” 

You were quick to run your mouth, it was maybe your one flaw. You like talking. “Well, I was hanging out with some of my freshmen guy friends and I somehow got caught in a conversation with this guy. He seemed fine and funny at first, but then he started to get really creepy. Saying some downright disgusting, demeaning things about this girl he was- well, with, which I honestly doubt because everything he says about women sounds absolute bullshit. Plus if he's this disgusting on the regular, he’s for sure a virgin.” That got a burst of laughter out of Natasha, causing some people to look our way, you couldn’t help but giggle too. “I don’t know, he makes me uncomfortable, I avoid him like the plague.”

She nodded along, “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to hang around a creep like Alex either.” Someone called Nat away, something about the food. As she left, Bradley came around. 

“What’s this about someone making you uncomfortable?” He muttered softly to you, he was close, so close you could feel the heat of him. The brush of his Hawaiian shirt against your arm. 

Looking up at him, you offered a slight smile to him. “Just some guy..” He hummed and raised a brow for you to continue. “He’s a total creep, but I’m avoiding him. Nothing to worry about..” You reassured him gently, if reassurance was even what he was looking for. 

“Good..Good girl.” He hummed, smirking as he patted your upper arm before walking off again. 

Oh… arm touch. You smiled and watched him walk away. His jeans are tight..

The other guy you were sitting next to was quick to start up a conversation. Mickey, you think his name was. He was nice and really liked talking. Almost more than you. 

Selfishly you loved it. Loved the attention, the interest. You can give and take whatever you want. Twist a story slightly to seem more interesting, nothing harmful or crazy, just something that makes it appear more..fun. Smile and shake your head at a question as you refuse to answer, watching with a cocky smirk as they insist you fess up. 

The night dragged on. You had a few beers and passed a few stories around. This was nice. Really nice.. The whole time here, other people would treat you like a kid. Teachers, orientation leaders, other upperclassmen friends. Made you feel like you were in kindergarten again.. But now you’re being asked if you want some beer and what your last escapade was.. 

“Last? Try never.” You chuckled over the rim of your can. 

The blonde's eyes widened, “No way, sweetheart! You gotta be jokin’!” He shook his head as he set his plate of pasta down, the pasta that Natasha so lovingly made for the group. “You’re too pretty to be a virgin.”

“Who’s a virgin?” 

Of course, Bradley comes back just in time to hear that part. 

“Your little freshman, that’s who.” Jake chuckled as he patted your shoulder. A blush fanning across your cheeks as you scowl at the Texan, only making him laugh harder.

All through high school you’d always wanted more. You’d talk to guys, you went on a few dates but nothing went anywhere. It wasn’t anything you were ashamed of. But you did feel like you were missing out. Frowning to yourself when your roommate would complain about her boyfriend, but you couldn’t relate to everything. But of course, you didn’t want everyone to know about your lack of experience.

“Nice, Jake, thanks for that.” You scoff and shove his hand away.

Bradley chuckles now too, “Nothing wrong with being a little inexperienced. College is about exploration, isn’t that right Jake?” The man smirked knowingly, about what, you didn’t know. But it caused Jake to shut up and take a sip of his beer. Grumbling something before grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. You shiver as you felt Bradley lean down, his hot breath tickling your ear, “He fucked around with a senior sorority girl last year, she shoved her finger up his ass during their last romp. He called it after that. Hasn’t flirted with a sorority girl since.” Bradley whispered before leaning back and you chuckled as you looked back at him. 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, really.” He nodded, “Hey, and the oven is free now..if you wanna bake those brownies you were talking about.” 

“Hey, I gotta take off. You comin’ Bob?” Natasha’s voice broke through the overlay of conversations. 

You looked over at her with a frown. “You’re leaving?” She was collecting her bag as Bob also stood up, muttering something to her before nodding. 

“Yeah, I have to go to a meeting tomorrow, wanna make sure I can sleep this off.” The woman chuckled before coming up to me and pulling me into a hug. “But we gotta hang out again, alright? I liked talking with you. Here,” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me with the “create new contact” screen open. You smile and quickly enter your information, then hand it back. “Thanks, I’ll text you.” Her and Bob made a quick round, also deciding to give Mickey and Reuben a ride too since they rode with Jake. And he was effectively out of service right now after chugging a six pack on a dare from Javy. 

Slowly other people remembered things they had to do this weekend. Study for a test, a hot date, club outings. Soon enough it was just you and Bradley. And a decommissioned Jake. 

The glass door slid closed again as Jake came back inside, he’d been going in and out a lot. You can only assume to puke. Right now you were looking up the ingredients you still needed and listing them off to Bradley. “That everything?” You glanced at the countertop, then back at your phone. 

“Yup!”

“Okay, what now?”

“Now I bake? What did you think we were going to do now?”

He chuckled at your sarcasm and shook his head slightly, “I meant, what did you want me to do now?” Your brows pinched together in confusion, huh?

“What do you mean want you to do?” You questioned him with a chuckle, turning back to the counter to start. Only then realizing you still did need something, “Hey, where’s the measuring cups?”

Bradley wandered over towards you and gently moved you by your waist. Fingers curling into the plushness, firm but soft. You could feel the heat of his wide hands through your shirt. You went willingly of course. Watching intently as he opened a drawer and pulled out the measuring cups and spoons. “I wanna help you bake.” He nodded with determination. 

“Uhh..I usually bake alone.” You purse your lips, timidly reaching out and grabbing the measuring utensils from him. The man scoffed and shook his head. 

“Well now you have me as a slave, you can tell me what to do. I am your assistant chef, or whatever?” He huffed a laugh making you chuckle and shake your head at him now. Taking the hair tie from your wrist, you throw your hair into a lazy updo.

“You’re ridiculous.”

It was actually fun. He did things without complaint. If he was being annoying, you’d make him mix things and he’d do it. The two of you  joked and messed around, you spilt some flour which made him cause a big fuss about it.

“It isn’t that much!”

“That’s so much! You’re a maniac!”

“Am not, you’re just dramatic- why are you taking your shirt off?”

“This is my best button down! I am not letting you tarnish it!”

“Bradley, it’s literally flour- you really are a drama queen!”

“Am not!”

You got annoyed again and made him mix the flour out of spite. He still put the tacky shirt on the counter, leaving him in his white undershirt that was honestly worse. Not that it’s a bad style, because that’s close to impossible to not look good in a plain white shirt. It’s just that he looks stupidly hot in something so simple. 

Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you watched him from where you leaned against the counter. Half-lidded eyes taking in the sight of his muscles rippling under that slightly too tight tee-shirt.

Jake got up again and wandered outside. 

“You think he’s really okay?” You asked, looking back at the glass door. You couldn’t see Jake outside, it was too dark and the lights inside were too bright. Bradley asked if he was alright after the first time, but he just waved him off. 

“I’ve seen Jake drunk enough times to know.” He chuckles simply, “He’s been through worse. This look good?” The man picked up the bowl to show it to you. Oh my god, his arms…his forearms- You watched in silent agony. You narrowed your eyes, lips pouting as if you were looking at the batter and trying to analyze it. But really you were ogling his arms. Perfect cover. Watching intently as the thick bands of muscle tensed under his too tan for Virginia skin as he tilted the bowl. The veins that ran up his arms and down his hands. 

“Looks…great. Fine.” You cleared your throat and picked up your beer again, taking a sip to try and mask your nerves. Jake came back in. “Hey..” He looked tired and wore a slight grimace on his face. “You okay?” You bothered to ask as he walked by. He just grumbled and rubbed his eyes. Going to the couch and flopping down on it. Promptly curling up and looking ready for a nap. 

“Buddy, y’know I got that spare room-”

“‘M fine…” Jake interrupts. You look over at Bradley, he just shrugs it off. 

So you speak up again, “You at least want some water?” He’s silent for a few beats before he mutters out something that sounded like a yes. You smile softly and grab a cup from the cabinet. Pouring some water from the battered brita pitcher and walking over to Jake, “Here..” You keep your voice quiet. 

He opens his eyes and takes the cup from you, “Thanks, hun’.” The southerner offered a tired smile. You walked back to Bradley as he was taking a drink, you distantly heard him put the cup back down. Looking back to see him grab a throw pillow and scoot down the couch to try and sleep off the alcohol. 

 “What were we talking about again?” Bradley looked over as you asked this, he just smiled for a moment before handing the bowl over to you. His smile could give an old woman a heart attack, it was that dazzling. 

“About my time traveling.” He reminded you, making you nod in return. “Anyways, I went on a whole ass trip to go see this girl that I was with through senior year. She got into some fancy college in England, and I was taking a gap year.” He crouched down and opened a cabinet. “So I was planning on visiting her for a month. She was planning everything. All of it, down from the hotels. Then, literally a week before my flight, she dumped me.” He found what he was looking for and handed you a square pyrex dish. Then he grabbed some parchment paper, finally standing up. 

“No way!” You gasped.

“Yup..”

“Did you still go?”

“Yeah, no way am I not going.” He rolled his eyes before laughing softly, you smiled and nodded. He pulled out a long strip of parchment and measured it to the dish before cutting it. “So I went, right? And it was surprisingly fun. I just went around, no plan. Just going city to city, asking locals what I should do, where I should eat, and where to go when I get bored of the place I was at. Met some cool guys in.. fuck, where was it? Doesn’t matter! We hung out for a week, going bar hopping in small towns. I actually had a lot of fun.” 

“That’s good that you still had fun.” You hummed as you started to pour the batter. Precariously holding the large bowl in one hand and pushing the batter out using a spatula with the other. You finished pouring and handed the bowl over to Bradley. Opening the oven you put the pan inside, closing it as you went to grab your phone. Turning on a timer for thirty-five minutes. 

Your eyes traveled over to him again. Sneaking a peak of him as he stood at his sink watching dishes. It was like watching the ocean. The movements of the water, the same push and pull that looked that same every time. But it was always slightly different if you were paying enough attention to it. Like how he’s washing the dishes.. Different back muscles tensing when he scrubbed in circles, how his forearm flexes when he turns the dish over to get to the back of the bowl. His head tilted to inspect it occasionally.. Squeezing the soapy sponge in his hand over the dish to get more suds on it. God bless, you wish you were that sponge-

“You like it?” What? You look up to see him still washing the dishes, your mouth falling open slightly as you try to come up with an excuse. Sorry for ogling your massive fucking muscles? “Hello? The get together? Did you like hanging out?” He looked over his shoulder to meet your eyes.

Ohhh! “Oh! Yeah, yeah. Your friends are really nice, thanks for inviting me.” It came out a little stuttered, your cheeks flushed with the previous thoughts you were having. Heart still pounding a little too hard after his question, for a second you thought he caught you. 

He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled lightly. “I’m glad, everyone seemed to like you. Mickey maybe liked you a little too much when you started geeking out with him over Star Wars, he’s such a fanboy.” That comment made your brows pinch. 

“What do you mean liked me a little too much?” He turned off the water and snatched a dish towel. Scrunching it in his hand before he glanced down. Of course, you watched. His hair flopping down over his forehead, then he looked back up and ran a hand through his hair. Crossing his arms as he smiled at you. 

“You know..” 

“Wow, thanks for the context- ohhhhh.” It dawned on you, no way Mickey liked you like that. “I don’t think so.” You brushed it off, shifting your weight to one foot as you copied him and crossed your arms. Then switching it up and reaching for your beer, but it was empty. 

“I’m his friend, I think I’d be able to tell better than you.” Bradley scoffed slightly. Why is he bringing this up anyways? You toss out the bottle in the trash near the sink.

“And guys have never been interested in me, not like that at least.” You wandered over to the fridge to look for something to drink. Trying to play cool, to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

You heard him walking closer as you reached in and grabbed a can of soda. Closing the fridge you turned, flinching as you brushed against him, “oh- hi?” 

“If I kissed you right now, how would you feel?”

“Excuse me?”

“If I kissed you-“

“Please-“

Before you knew it his large hands were cupping your cheeks and his lips were smashed against yours. You could feel the scratch of his mustache on your skin as he kissed you greedily. 

Trying your best to keep up with his pace despite not being all too experienced. Hands grabbing at his shirt as he slowly started to shuffle forwards, causing you to stumble back too. His hands quickly found your hips, gently pushing you back. He ended up crowding you against the counter, the edge digging into your lower back.

It was dizzying. Hands gripping, pressing lips, panting and moaning into each other's mouths. Only thing to shock you out of it was when your feet are off the ground. You’re quick to grip his wide shoulders, gasping against his lips. The cool feeling of the counter under you makes you shiver despite the thick material of your jeans. He chuckles and you glance up. His face is flushed and his lips are slightly swollen and sticky looking from your lipgloss, you can imagine you look similar. 

Reaching up you brush your thumb over his mustache causing the corners of his lips to quirk up slightly. His hand circles your wrist as he moves your hand, pressing a quick peck to your palm, transferring some lip gloss to your skin. Then the man i’s guiding it to rest over his shoulder. Following his lead and bringing your other arm ip to loosely hug around his shoulders.  A hum leaves him before he leans back in. Softer this time, slower. His own hands find their way to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter.

Bradleys tongue swiped your bottom lip making you shiver slightly, but you relented. Opening your mouth to him. His tongue brushing your own, teeth knocking together as your fingers find their way into his hair.

Giving a slight tug as he licks into your mouth causes him to groan. His hands gripping the plush of your hips a little tighter in retaliation. 

“Don’t be mean..” he muttered before moving down to your neck. The scratch from his mustache was a delicious contrast to his kissing. 

“You seem to like it.” You chuckled before interrupting yourself with a stifled moan as he bit down on your bottom lip. He soothed it with his tongue before firmly kissing you once more. Eyes fluttering shut as you try to hug him closer. His calloused fingers finding their way under the hem of your top. Then sliding further up to grasp at your bare waist. 

It's a quiet but passionate exchange. Losing track of time in the heat of it. Eventually he pulls away, soft pants leaving your kiss swollen lips. Your breath stutters once more as his lips find your neck. Wet languid kisses pressed to the sensitive skin of your neck. Starting from just below your ear and traveling down to your pulse point. A sigh leaving your lips, fingers weaving their way through Bradleys hair again. 

He stood between your spread legs, your knees pinching his hips as if to keep him close. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You were more than sure that he could feel your racing pulse against his lips from where he was kissing you. 

“Bradley..”

He only hummed against your neck, dragging his lips down the skin. The feeling of his mustache appreciated as you gave a hum in return. 

The sound of the alarm buzzing from your phone made the two of you flinch away from each other. 

A subtle jingle and vibrating noise filled the kitchen. Soft pants from the both of you joined the sounds of the alarm as you two just stared at each other. Processing what was just happening. Processing how the time was lost to the two of us. How thirtysomething minutes was a blur of kisses and touches that probably shouldn’t have been happening. 

Jake groans from his spot on the couch. Bradley steps away and pulls open a random drawer. Swallowing thickly you chance a glance back at Jake. “What’s the deal?” The Texan groans as he gets up from the couch. The alarm.. 

“Sorry..” Grabbing your phone you turn off the alarm, watching as the cocky blonde goes outside once more. 

Biting your bottom lip again, you watch Bradley grab the brownies from the oven. Tilting it towards you before asking, “These good?” It came out gruff, a little like he was upset. Just then you take in the hard lines of his tensed shoulders. His closed off demeanor, like he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin. 

“Yeah..” You whispered softly, he set the pan down on the stove top. He cleared his throat, and you watched as he looked back to the door before coming back over to you. 

“Honey,” Shit..”That..That can’t happen again.” He doesn’t fully meet your eyes, only meek glances. It’s not the Bradley you're used to. And it definitely wasn't the Bradley who was sliding his hands up your shirt barely five minutes ago. 

“Why not?” It was a challenge, a frown pulling on your lips as you narrowed your eyes at him. Asking him to try pulling something out of his ass and seeing if you’d actually accept it as an answer. 

The mustached man makes a noise deep in his throat, some form of grunting-growl. “I- You’re a freshman and I’m a junior. An older junior, at that, I’m twenty-six.”

“And?” You rolled your eyes, sliding off the counter and shaking your head again. “Listen, I like you. I don’t care that you're a little older than me.” You try to laugh it off as you walk to the stove, picking up a stray knife to start cutting the hot chocolatey treat.

“Honey-” The door slides open again. 

“Okay- that didn’t make it on the grass this time.” Jake announces as he closes the door behind himself. He wandered over to the breakfast bar and sat down on one of the stools. 

Bradley inwardly sighed before giving Jake a tight lipped smile. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll hose it tomorrow.” 

======

Whoops.. sorry not sorry pookie

kinda lazy writing, end is kinda rushed been sitting in my drafts and i wanted to write something else but wanted to post this

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Neon Moon - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: You're drowning your sorrows after calling off your engagement on Valentine's Day in a Mexican restaurant in San Diego. Alongside you, Bradley Bradshaw sits at the bar, going through a similar situation.

A/N: my first attempt at writing something a little angsty, I’m not overly confident in it but I was drunk on strawberry margaritas in San Diego last night after spending the day in Coronado so here we are. Also definitely inspired by my own past relationship 🌚 And inspired by Neon Moon by Brooks and Dunn. Also sorry for the whacky spacing because I’m posting from my phone! - not beta read or proofread bc I live life in the danger zone.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader

warnings/content: cheating (not Bradley or reader), failed engagements/breakups, mentions of divorce, drinking, angsty-ish with a happier ending.

word count: 3.5K

read the rest of my What’s Your Country Song mixtape series! 🩷

if you lose your one and only, there’s always room here for the lonely, so watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

You sat at the bar, sighing heavily as you snacked on the free, fresh tortilla chips and salsa, nursing your pink margarita, the notes of strawberry and tequila doing everything in its power to alleviate the pain of your latest breakup. You know alcohol isn’t a miracle worker, but by God, at this point you’re beginning to wonder. Your ex-fiancé just called off your wedding, and left you wondering why on earth you ever agreed to move thousands of miles from home to San Diego for a man who barely had his shit together.

You fiddled with the straw in your glass, sipping the strawberry-laden drink back, the tequila burning your throat slightly as it went down. It was getting late in the evening, but you were willing to stay here a couple more hours until closing just to get the most amount of time away from your apartment as you could. You knew you’d have to face the inevitable, but you dreaded it. How could you not? How could anyone in their right mind choose to haul their ass back to the apartment their ex just called off their wedding ceremony in, where the person they’d loved just confessed they didn’t share that feeling that was supposedly mutual, that they’d grown weary of the marriage ideal that they’d proposed to you.

Your bartender shot you a sympathetic look when you walked in that night, sensing that you weren’t here celebrating Valentine’s Day like most of the patrons around you. He slid you a basket of fresh, warm, homemade tortilla chips and a cup of the restaurant’s in-house salsa, alongside a drink menu with an encouraging nod. You appreciated the kindness towards you, even if it was just out of pity. As the bar side became less busy as the night went on, he asked how you were doing, if you needed anything else, if you wanted to order a meal. You hemmed and hawed over whether or not authentic Mexicali food was the solution to all of your problems when the seat to your right suddenly gained a patron - a single patron who looked just as downtrodden, if not more so, than you.

“Bradley!” The bartender said cheerfully, a hearty smile on the man’s face as he grabbed a pint glass, “Your usual, my friend?”

“Please, and just keep ‘em comin’, man,” said the voice beside you.

Bradley was a tall man, with a neatly trimmed mass of warm, golden-brown waves on top of his head, sun kissed skin and a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on the collar of his white t-shirt. Over the white undershirt, sat the loudest printed Hawaiian shirt you’d ever laid your eyes on - a bubblegum pink coloured background with an assortment of bright white, black and deep orangey-red palm leaves adorning it. A few faded scars scattered the side of his face, barely noticeable unless he tilted his head just so in the warm yellow-hued lights overhead. His fuller lips were resting in an emotionless line, a trimmed and styled mustache, straight out of an 80’s movie resting over the top of his lip.

As Bradley and the bartender, whose name you’d now forgotten after your second margarita, not that it was ever going to stick in your mind in the first place - you were stressing over how to tell 150 guests that a wedding was no longer taking place simply because the man who asked you had decided he no longer loved you, and despite having felt that way for quite some time, opted to tell you three months before your big day, after a majority of things were paid for, almost all of which non-refundable, meaning you’d be enjoying a wedding cake for 150 people at a venue by yourself, celebrating some other occasion in a couple of months.

You couldn’t help but overhear the bartender give Bradley the same words of encouragement as he’d given you - reminding you both that “que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a direct quote from an old Doris Day song that you recognized from the times your grandmother made you watch her collection of Alfred Hitchcock VHS tapes, along with all the other classic movies you were subjected to. Bradley offered a weak smile, nodding his head along to the advice.

“I don’t know, man, she definitely isn’t coming back. I don’t think I want her to either. Came home from three months away to get told she was off base and in Coronado for the day, I decided to surprise her and find her having a lunch date with some lower-ranking officer.”

“That’s harsh, brother,” the bartender nods sympathetically before his brown eyes light up, as if Bradley’s cheating significant other has inspired him in some way.

“Actually, my friend, the lovely senorita on your left side has something in common with you,” he explained as he shot you a grin before nodding his head, “My friend Bradley here was married. You both are nursing the same pain tonight. Might not be a bad idea for you two to nurse that pain together, especially since we close in an hour.”

Bradley’s face flushed to a pinkish hue as he shot his friend a glare before turning to you with an apologetic, half-hearted smile.

“No offense, I’m sure you’re great, I just…caught my wife out with another officer over the bridge at Coronado and I really don’t know if drinking with another girl is the right thing to do.”

“Understood, my fiancé just called off our wedding because he decided three months before was a good time to tell me he’d fallen out of love with me nine months ago and no longer wanted to go through with it.”

“Ah, maybe Angel over here is on to something then,” Bradley let out a melancholic chuckle as he took a sip of his beer, the amber coloured liquid sliding past his lips, the froth at the top brushing against the edge of his mustache.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” you nodded, suddenly thankful as you realized if your ex hadn’t broken things off now, you could have easily wound up in the same position as Bradley is now in a few years.

“It’s alright, had a feelin’ she wasn’t really loving the military spouse life as much as she let on, but didn’t think that meant she’d find a different serviceman to try it on with while I was gone and stationed in the middle of the Pacific.”

“Jesus, that’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, not your fault. I’m Bradley, by the way. Normally I’d do the whole formal military introduction but…just Bradley is fine tonight. I kinda need a break from that for a minute.”

“Understood.”

You nodded again before giving him your name. An awkward silence fell over you both before you looked out towards the patio, the lights along the pier illuminating the San Diego Bay as you looked across to Coronado.

“That’s where I’m stationed,” Bradley nodded his head towards the island across the bay as he took another sip of his beer, “North Island.”

“You’re an aviator?”

“TOPGUN graduated, been flyin’ for just over 20 years now.”

“20 years?”

“Yeah,” Bradley blushed, nodding his head, “I’m 40 in June. I get told I look about 10 years younger than that. A lot. Especially by other guys over there. The one guy in my detachment’s about 5 years younger than me and everyone says he looks closer to my age than I do. Not as a dig to Hangman or nothin’, just as an observation that I kinda look fresh to the Navy, you know?”

“Hangman…?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically at the name he just called his friend, almost concerned about his parents' life choices.

“Real name’s Jake. Everyone calls us using callsigns over there - his is Hangman, but if we wanna piss him off, he’s Bagman. I’m Rooster. One guy’s just Bob, one girl’s Phoenix, another girl’s Halo, then there’s Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Harvard and Yale, Fritz, my dad’s Navy buddy is Maverick, our Air Boss is Cyclone, it goes on.”

“Why is your callsign Rooster?”

“Eh, my dad’s sign was Goose. They asked me to pick one and I wanted to honor him, but I couldn't use the same one I figured, so I went for the first bird I could think of. They were gonna call me Boomer because I’m loud as fuck half the time, but I guess I have a bit of a reputation for waiting until the moment’s right to take action. One guy said that I sorta sit perched like a rooster waiting for the sun to rise, and it stuck more than Boomer did.”

“Gotcha. Are you from San Diego?”

“Sorta. I was born here, my dad was stationed up at Miramar which is on the other side from Coronado, but then he died when I was two in a training accident, my mom moved me back to where she was from in Virginia, it’s where she met my dad, actually. He was from Virginia but like, closer to the D.C. area, my mom was from Richmond. Then I grew up there, went to UVA, and got stationed at Virginia Beach, went to TOPGUN in Nevada and then got sent back to Virginia, then from there got called to North Island.”

“So you’ve lived in a few states then. I moved out here from New York a couple years ago. My ex is from La Jolla, came to New York for university, met me, got a job in the city, then got an offer to work here, and came back, took me with him.”

“So your family’s all back in New York?”

“Yeah, bit far, like a 6 hour flight home.”

“Jesus, I may not have much for family, but at least I know I’ve got my squad to kinda support me. And I’ve got Maverick, who’s like a second dad to me.”

“I’m still debating what to do - do I stay in San Diego and just make this my home now, or do I go back to Manhattan with my tail between my legs so to speak and move back in with my parents?”

Bradley nodded his head solemnly before letting out a sharp exhale, a smile forming on his face as he looked out at the bay and then back at you.

“Whatdya say we go for a walk? Catch some fresh air? Maybe we can help each other figure out our next moves so poor Angel here can close up for the night.”

Bradley must have sensed some apprehension in your gaze, because almost seconds after speaking, he held his hands up innocently and laughed.

“I promise I’m not suggesting this out of an ulterior motive. Just suggesting it as a guy who’s sorta in the same boat as you and could use some company.”

You looked at your watch and shrugged your shoulders. You certainly didn’t want to head home any time soon, and Bradley seemed genuine enough, plus, it was nice having someone who understood what you were going through, even if it meant both of you now had to completely reevaluate your lives. You set your credit card down on the table for Angel to ring up your bill, but before he could take it, Bradley shook his head and handed it back to you.

“It’s on me.”

“I can’t let you pay for my drinks, but thank you.”

“Listen, it was money that was gonna be spent on my wife for a Valentine’s Day dinner anyway. Least I can do is pay for your two…pink…whatever those are.”

“Strawberry margaritas.”

“Right, yeah, those. Pink tequila with fruit.”

He smirked as he closed out the tab for both of you before hopping off his barstool. He politely offered his arm out to you as you stood to your feet. Angel shot you both a knowing grin, waving you and his friend off as you headed out. The air on the pier was mild, a soft breeze blowing in off the water of the bay. As you headed down the street together, chatting about life and what you did for a living, Bradley’s rank in the Navy, his favorite sports, your favorite movies, you almost forgot about your ex and the breakup you’d been trying to numb with fruity heartache medication moments ago.

As it turned out, you and Bradley shared a fond love of baseball and romantic comedies, you’d both grown up watching classic movies with your grandmothers, both had a fondness for old music - Elvis, The Beach Boys, Jerry Lee Lewis, Neil Sedaka - it turned out that for two strangers with a 12 year age gap, you had much more in common than you could have expected. In fact, you’d actually argue that you and Bradley had more shared interests than you and your ex had.

As you both wandered up the street towards Seaport Village, the bayside shopping district set up alongside one of the piers, you basked in the glow of the streetlights over head, taking the time to appreciate the calmness of the bay, the sights and sounds of the water as it took your focus off the happy, lovestruck couples that walked around past you all.

The moon hung low in the sky overhead, glowing against the deep blackish-blue backdrop of the night sky, appearing to have a neon glow behind it. Bradley looked up at the sky, letting out a loud, exhaled breath as he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna head back to base and deal with the mess waiting for me there. Never thought I’d be filing divorce papers on Valentine’s Day, you know?”

“I have to call 150 guests and tell them that the wedding scheduled for May isn’t taking place but they can still come eat the cake that we paid for at the venue that I can’t get the 50% deposit back for.”

Bradley laughed softly, although the laugh wasn’t one of happiness - more one of pity for the two of you over your situations, and how neither of you wanted to go home because it would mean taking action with the hands you were dealt, no matter how unfair they were.

“Fuck, how’d we end up in this mess? I guess I should be thankful that she and I never had kids then, right?”

He laughed again, a dry, hollow laugh at his situation. “I wanted them, she didn’t. I just figured in my late thirties that it wasn’t really an issue worth pushing and it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“My dad was 44 when I was born, I never thought it was weird, if that helps.”

“Hey, means I’ve got 4 years, right? Can’t really adopt a kid when you’re in the Navy though, with not being home a lot and all that, and I don’t know if I see myself remarrying or anything. Besides, I feel like it’s asking a lot of a woman to settle down with me then have her waiting at home alone most of the time, or alone with our kids, if we have ‘em. Seems a bit unfair. I guess I could retire but, I don’t know if I’m ready for that either, you know?”

“You just have to find someone who wants to wait for you. You know, someone who doesn’t mind being a military spouse.”

“Good luck with that,” He said with a dry chuckle again, “I wouldn’t wanna be one if the shoe was on the other foot, it’s a lot of me to ask someone else to do it.”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you ask a random girl on the street to marry you, Bradley, I meant like, date, get to know the woman, find out from there if she’s cool with it.”

“I guess so,” He sighed heavily as he looked up at the moon, “You know, always thought I’d have a marriage like my parents did. I know my dad died before I was really old enough to remember, but I see pictures and you just…you knew they were crazy about each other. Maverick always said they flirted like they were a couple’a teenagers on their first date all the time.”

“Bradley, do you wanna come grab a coffee with me?”

“Coffee? It’s like nine at night.”

“Yeah, I could use some sobering up though.”

“Ah, what the hell. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

Bradley gestured in front of him, allowing you to lead the way. As you began to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you to the inside.

“Sorry, force of habit. My mom always said not to let a lady walk on the outside of the sidewalk. She said my dad never let her risk getting splashed by a puddle when they walked down the street. Sorta trained it into me by the time I was 10. Maverick and my grandma both agreed. Think it’s an old Southern thing.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind it,” you smiled softly at him, rolling your shoulders into a subtle shrug.

Bradley smiled at you, a genuine, proper smile. His previously stoic and reserved look had melted away momentarily, deep dimples forming either side of his mouth. Bradley’s caramel coloured eyes seemed to glisten as the moonlight caught them, amber flecks sparkling before he shook his head, an awkward chuckle escaping his parted lips.

“You know, I gotta thank you.”

“Why’s that?”

“You helped me forget temporarily about what I have to do tonight when I get home.”

“I guess I should thank you for the same thing.”

“I haven’t felt this at ease in…a really long time. I guess I always kinda suspected she was cheating, but I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, no one wants to think that way about someone they love, right?”

“No, no, I get it. I sorta knew my ex wasn’t feeling the same way. I just told myself I was overthinking it. He never said anything until today.”

“He told you today that he didn’t love you anymore? Today of all the days?!”

“Yeah, came home from a half day at work to spend the afternoon with him, just to come home to him doing the classic “We need to talk” line.”

Bradley hummed slowly and shook his head. He ran a finger through his caramel toned waves and sighed, trying to think of what the right thing to say in response would be.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Bradley silently opens the door to the coffee shop for you, once again gesturing for you to go first. You can’t help but admire the way everything he does seems like something out of a movie set in the 1950s - his mannerisms, the slight lilt to his voice, the way he holds doors open, offers you his arm, insists on walking on the outside of the sidewalk - all for a woman he’s only just met. It’s likely sympathetic actions towards you - feeling bad that you’re in a situation similar to his own, at least, that’s what you’re going to tell yourself.

“Pick your poison, I owe you one for the margaritas.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up this one. Like I said, it was set aside for a nice romantic Valentine’s dinner. I got it.”

“You know, under any other circumstances, this would have made for a cute date spot.”

“Margaritas and coffee?”

“I meant a nighttime stroll along the pier to a coffee shop, but now that you mention it, margaritas and coffee are one way to do it.”

“Hey, I mean, maybe this isn’t a date, I don’t think either of us are ready for that, but, it’s a nice first time hanging out.”

“Maybe the next time we hangout we can do it under less…distressing circumstances?”

“Maybe next time we hangout I can take you out for that nice dinner you and I both were expecting to have tonight,” Bradley shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “You know, as friends, or whatever.”

“You know what, I may take you up on that. You know, as friends…or whatever.”

Bradley slid his phone across the table to you, having opened it to the new contact screen. You quickly typed in your contact details, smiling fondly as you handed it back to him, along with your own phone.

“Next time you venture across the bridge, maybe text me? We can go for a coffee or something, or catch a ball game when the season starts.”

“I’d like that,” Bradley said with a satisfied smile as he sipped his drink.

“But this time, I’m buying.”

[sunderlust]

won't you keep lettin' me love you for a long time (rooster)

masterlist

pairing: rooster x f!reader

synopsis: you drive rooster home after one too many margaritas

warnings: fluff, smidge of angst (mentions of grief, death, bradley losing his parents)

wc: ~2k

note: a wise person - aka may - once told me to never scrap your writing, even if you’ll never use it again. I was gonna backspace the first draft of this - actually wrote it for another angsty Jake what’s new - but then rooster inspiration struck (roospiration, if you will) (actually don’t that just looks like perspiration) (I mean I’d love to have rooster’s sweat- nvm)

sorry long ramble aside here’s something short and sweet after my last angsty fic 💕

“You’re way too good of a friend to me,” Rooster grins sloppily as he slumps over the bartop in front of you. Honestly, he’s pretty lucky they had just wiped down the counter. At any other moment, it’d be sticky with beer and sweet and sour and he’d run the risk of getting a pistachio shell stuck to his mustache.

“Yeah, perhaps I am,” you half-seriously agree with a smile and slide a full glass of ice water towards him, then lean back in your own chair to observe a drunk Rooster trying to manage a few gulps while smiling like a goober at the colorful liquor bottles lined up on the shelf.

The bar’s been long empty, most aviators having taken their leave thirty minutes after the last call. Bradley usually heads out earlier than this - doesn’t like staying out late and messing up his perfectly curated bedtime routine. But tonight was a reunion of sorts with his old classmates, and they went through quite a few margaritas. 

You joined about an hour ago, and Bradley immediately elected to sit with you and engage in wonderfully mindless chit-chat. You’re not complaining at all - every moment you can spend with the gorgeous aviator is a moment to cherish. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to get all the gossip on his current students at TOPGUN - like the three that are involved in a devastating love triangle that’s most definitely exacerbated by Bradley always grouping them - a move he most certainly took out of Pete Mitchell’s book (“They need to focus on the job, not distract themselves with high school theatrics,” he ranted to you earlier).  

“Hold on, wait,” Bradley suddenly says, then springs himself upright and focuses hard on you. “If I squint just right...” he screws up his face, almost going cross-eyed. “I can see two of you!” Bradley’s mustache quirks with his smile, and his entire face lights up like the sun. “Goddamn. What a sight.”

“You’re hammered,” you scoff in an attempt to conceal how much the term of endearment affects you, how it makes your entire body feel warm and tingly because you secretly love it when he’s this open and brazen with you, tossing out flirtatious remarks with no hidden agenda besides trying to put a smile on your face.

“I’m not hammered - they call me Rooster,” he replies breezily and you swat at his shoulder, turning away to hide your smile and raising your other hand to flag someone down to close out Bradley’s tab.

After handing over your card (despite Bradley’s drunken attempts to sway the bartender against letting you pay) - you finally stand up. “Need a lift back home?” you ask him with a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s a rhetorical question - he’s got no other way home besides an overpriced Uber - but he still hums thoughtfully. Slowly, he lifts his head and surveys you while drumming his fingers on the wood.

“I.... think that would be best,” he declares, determinedly slapping the counter and attempting to slide off the barstool in a suave manner - it looks more like Bambi on ice, but you can’t deny that it’s still incredibly endearing. He looks up to flash a brilliant, a bit lopsided smile at you. “I’ll see if ‘Nix can pick me up early to grab my car in the morning.”

You laugh, slide your purse off from the back of the chair, and think to yourself about how he’ll have to find out for himself tomorrow that he didn’t even drive here.

--

Your car rolls to a stop right outside a quaint, one-story bungalow, and you shift into park before unlocking the door and sitting patiently. Bradley’s quiet - as he’d been the entire ride home - and you chance a brief look at him. He’s sitting up, now looking straight back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Evidently, there are one too many thoughts running around in his tequila-addled brain.

“You okay?” you ask him, eyes seeking out his in the darkness of one AM.

A few seconds of silence roll by, each ticking louder with your beating heart. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Think I may have had a bit too much.” 

“I’ll say,” you snort. “You didn’t even say anything when someone queued up Foghat earlier.”

“Fuck Foghat,” Bradley groans out and leans back against the headrest. “And fuck Jake for ruining a perfectly decent song.” 

You hum reassuringly and eye his dark figure carefully, watch the shadow of his chest rise and fall steadily, and find yourself matching his breathing. “You sure you’re alright?” 

His head lolls to the side as he appraises you. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just...” he trails off, fingers tapping mindlessly on the console. “You’re my best friend,” he says at last. “And you’re so... good” 

Bradley shifts into the tiniest sliver of light, eyes glinting with the reflection of the street lamp glowing outside. You hold your breath, not sure if he can even see you or what he means by it, or what will come out of his mouth. “You’re so kind and good to everyone. Even me. And I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you,” he says with so much sincerity your heart breaks at him thinking that he’s not deserving of benevolence, friendship, or even love.

You open your mouth to object, to reassure him that it’s very much the opposite, but he beats you to it with words that make your heart bounce around wildly in your chest, yearning to jump right out and press up against his. “I wish my mom and dad got to meet you.”

It punches all the air out of you, and you just sit and look at him solemnly, somehow at a loss for words. 

Bradley has carried grief with him since he was four years old. One day, he’s learning about all the different species of dinosaurs from a book his uncle had gifted him, and the next day, he finds out that his dad won’t be coming home, and he’s discovered something new - a little thing called loss. And years later, loss greets him once again with a bittersweet kiss on both cheeks as it tears away his loving mother and his traitorous Uncle Pete. And for some time, it’s just Bradley and his grief, the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with as he swears to uphold his father’s legacy, to make Carole and Goose proud (even Maverick, on a subatomic level). 

You know some time back, he figured out why Mav pulled his papers - to appease Carole, sweet Carole, who didn’t want her son to see the same fate as Goose. You know Bradley wonders if his parents would be disappointed in him for still following his dreams. The worst part about losing his parents is that he’ll never know how they’d feel about the man he’s become. It’s especially easy for him to believe he hasn’t done enough. 

“Bradley,“ you start, throat closing up as your mind races, as you search for the right sequence of reassuring words. “I think you deserve the world.” 

You think back to the early days of getting to know him - shortly after you’d moved to San Diego and found him in some dive bar near the ocean. You remember coming back to the bar with your coworkers on Thursday nights, wistfully sending glances his way across the room and trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, ask him to hang back for a drink, ask him if he likes pancakes or waffles in the mornings because you want to know what to make for him after rocking his world (that last sentiment may have been heavily gin-fueled). It was a simple crush at first. 

You recall the day he slid up next to you, bought your next drink, and asked you to join him for a round of darts (which you failed miserably at - somehow it’s much harder in real life than GamePigeon). You remember the laughter, the neverending conversation, the comforting feeling of having a new friend. A great friend - one who always lends a listening ear, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who brought you his mom’s famous tomato soup when you got the flu. 

Phoenix says he’s usually stuck in his head and thinks too much - but in the time you’ve known him, he’s never spared a second thought when it comes to you. 

In a rush, you return to the present, where he’s sitting in front of you with glistening eyes and a drunk mouth speaking words you know cross his sober mind every day. His face is crumbling with emotions that he usually keeps under lock and key because he can’t let it get in the way of his job, can’t let it mess him up when he’s flying or teaching. For whatever reason, this is the side of him that he only feels comfortable enough to show you.

Slowly, you reach over the console to interlace your fingers together and pull his hand up to your mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. He squeezes once. “You know that they’re always here,” you tell him. “Every part of them that they’ve given up has made you the wonderful man you are now. In that way, you always have them with you. And they’d be so damn proud of you. I wish I had the chance to meet them, but I know they’d agree.”

He’s nodding his head with your words as if he’s shaking them around his mind in an attempt to instill their meaning. “And...” You press another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’d say you’re my best friend, too,” you say, whispering mock-conspiratorially. 

The grin that slides over his face makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, flying around wildly, completely shredding your intestines but that’s a problem for later because right now Bradley, who has to be the love of your life, is smiling like he just won the lottery, like he’s the luckiest man in the world. Suddenly he’s leaning in, reaching a hand out to brush a piece of loose hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek lovingly, and he’s kissing you like you’re the air he breathes. 

You return with fervor; his mustache scrapes roughly against your nose and you can still taste the cheap sour marg mix on his tongue and you can definitely sense how drunk he is by the lack of coordination he exhibits every time your teeth clash together. But it’s real and raw and beautiful all at once, and he’s kissing you like he did the first time all those years ago, as he did on the beach when you said yes to forever, as he did months ago after you exchanged I do’s in a small but beautiful ceremony. 

You’ll always prefer messy kisses over anything else, and you’ll always love Bradley with his grief wholly and unconditionally. 

Bradley, now seeming to be the slightest bit soberer, breathes in deeply, pulls back slightly, slowly grazes your cheekbone with his thumb as he tries to look at you in the darkness of what must be one-fifteen now. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. Doubt is still festering its prickly self inside him, but he’s grounded now and is comfortably tethered to you. 

“Always,” you promise to your best friend, to your partner, to your husband, then surge forward to press another kiss to his lips before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” he replies ardently and pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then turns to fumble for the car handle. He pauses and lowers his head to look out the window where his Bronco is parked right next to yours. “Hold up - I didn’t drive tonight?” 

You stifle a laugh and grab your bag from the back seat. “Think your age is showing, honey.” 

Bradley squawks out in indignation and stutters through a couple of rebuttals before sighing and burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why did you let me drink this much?” 

“I showed up later, babe,” you tell him. “Think you can blame Jake for the margs.” 

Another groan sounds out from him. “Of fucking course it’s Jake’s fault.” 

With a little bit of coordinated effort, the two of you manage to walk (stumble, in Bradley’s case) up the stone pathway leading to the front porch, unlock the door, and step into your shared home together. And later that night, you lay down next to a softly snoring Bradley, think about all the moments that brought you to him, and drift away on the feeling of utter devotion. 

[callsignhoney]

leave me breathless ➤

pairing ➤ bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

genre ➤ smut

summary ➤ rooster is wholeheartedly convinced you have no interest in him and you’re just dying to prove him wrong

———

Rooster’s eyes had been glued to you since the moment you stepped foot in that bar. He’d known you for years; you were his wingman, his best friend, his partner in crime. He had been hopelessly in love with you for over half the time you’ve known each other. And that skirt was not helping things.

Most of the time he was good at hiding it. How else would he have kept you oblivious to his attraction if he wasn’t good at shoving his emotions deep into some pit in his stomach and letting them rot and fester until he became lightheaded at the sight of you? He felt oddly breathless watching you from across the room, like there was a weight on his chest that made each inhale a struggle.

“So… I’ve gotta ask. How long have you been in love with Pocket?”

Rooster froze and looked down at the woman beside him. Phoenix had a knowing smile on her lips but kept her eyes forward.

Rooster grimaced and hung his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, but I just always had a inkling there might be something a little more than friendship between you two. It wasn’t until I saw how you were just looking at her that I was truly convinced.”

When he looked up again, his eyes sought you out immediately. He was wholly captivated, not for the first time, by you. You’d stolen one of his shirts and was wearing it tucked into a skirt that fully showed of your legs. Being around you would be dangerous tonight, threatening the balancing act of “just friends” he so carefully placed atop his undying adoration of everything you were.

“There it is again—man, you are just infatuated, aren’t you?” Phoenix teased.

“Spare me, please,” Rooster groaned.

“So how long?”

“Ten years,” he admitted in a mumble, lips pressed to his glass, “give or take.”

“Why not just tell her?”

Rooster scoffed and downed the rest of his drink.

“It’s not that crazy of a suggestion.”

“I’m pretty sure that’d be breaking some kind of bro code.”

“‘Bro code?’” Phoenix laughed.

“Yep.”

“Are you not allowed to break the bro code if you don’t want to be just bros?”

“If only it were that simple.”

Phoenix may have picked up on his feelings for you, but what she didn’t know was that Rooster had confessed to you once. It was early on in your naval career when you were assigned to the Golden Warriors, Rooster’s flight squadron. You’d been flying with him ever since. He’d been pining over you since a few months after meeting you.

You were easy to talk to and be around. He liked being around you. You had this amazing ability to talk anybody down from panicking in the air and were one of the most reliable, trustworthy people he had the honor of knowing. He never had to try around you; he felt as if he could just exist and you’d be right there with him.

You’d only been assigned for about a year before Rooster drunkenly confessed to you one night as you were tasked with getting him home. You very kindly told him to shut the fuck up and stop spewing nonsense before tucking him into bed and crashing on his couch. You made breakfast the next morning and he pretended not to remember anything of the night before.

Maybe that didn’t properly count on account of his inebriation at the time, which would more than likely lead you to believe he was just being an idiotic drunk, but the sting of rejection still felt very real. He couldn’t risk pouring his heart out to you while sober and leaving himself open for you to turn him down.

Without too much more pestering, Phoenix seemed to take pity on him and left him to his own devices. She joined you across the room. He soon realized what he thought was pity was actually conniving as she pointed him out to you. He subtly flipped her off as you made your way over to him. She flashed him a smile.

“Hey, I didn’t see you come in,” you said, swinging into the seat beside him.

“Didn’t know you were here already,” he lied right through his teeth.

“Phoenix said you had something to tell me.”

“Did she, now?” He caught Phoenix stealing a glance at the two of you. “I don’t, really. Don’t know where she got that from.”

“Oh, she must’ve misheard you,” you laughed it off, thankfully. “You should come play with us. It’s boring without you.”

You and a few other pilots had been playing pool along the far wall. He knew this because he’d been watching you the entire time and forcing himself not to look too long any time you bent over to make a play. That skirt was playing a dangerous game.

“No, it’s alright. I’m probably gonna leave soon, anyway.” Translation: he could not be nearer to you than absolutely necessary when you looked like this.

“C’mon,” you said, leaning on his arm, “just one game? Before you go?”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, if only to get you to stop leaning on him so close that he could kiss you if he turned his head.

———

Another night out with you ending in a cold shower had Rooster laying awake and staring at his ceiling, silently begging the universe for some semblance of mercy. The white noise of his ceiling fan was the only thing that answered him. He didn’t want to end tonight with his hand and thoughts of you again. A knock at his door spared him from his thoughts.

You pushed past him before he even had the door fully open.

“Okay, yeah, come on in, Pocket, fine by me.”

“I have a direct question to ask you,” you told him.

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Are you picking up what I’m putting down?” you said.

“…I’m not following.”

“Are the signals being read loud and clear, or are you getting a lot of mixed messages?”

“Still lost.”

You buried your face in your hands in exasperation. Taking a deep breath, you looked him dead in the eye and asked, “Are you comprehending that I’m trying to sleep with you or not?”

Rooster blinked at you, mouth falling open.

“That answers that question, then,” you said. “God! Phoenix said I was being so obvious, too.”

“Phoenix said—oh, that meddling little snake.”

“Don’t talk bad about Phoenix. She said even Bob noticed the moves I was trying to put on you and you were still oblivious.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop to consider you liked me when you literally rejected me.”

“When did I reject you?”

“That night after the bar? In the Philippines?”

“That did not count! You were drunk off your ass and professing your love to me. And I didn’t even reject you, I just told you to shut up and go to sleep.”

“It felt a lot like a rejection.”

“You—oh my god. I wasn’t going to confess to you while you were hammered!” you said like it was obvious (it was). “Then I’d just have to do it again when you were sober.”

“I’m sober now.”

He walked you back against the door until you were pressed against it. You laughed, he realized, nervously. He made you nervous.

“You are tipsy at best, big guy,” you said with a pat on his chest.

You tried to slip around him, but he wasn’t having it. He put an arm in your way and got even closer to you, leaning down to your eye level.

“I have a direct question for you,” it was his turn to say.

He watched as your chest rose shakily, breath fluttering from your lungs. You shifted, thighs rubbing together. He hadn’t even done anything yet but you were so affected by him. Keep this up and he’d have a power trip.

“Yeah?” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I want to know if you like me how I like you,” he said. “Do you want me? Like I want you?”

You struggled to hold eye contact with him. Your breaths came unevenly and exhaled shakily. Your eyes darted to his mouth and back up again. Your answer was written clearly behind those eyes, but it was too fun to tease you. He wanted you to admit it.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

There was some low sound that came from the back of his throat. His first touch on you was his hand on your neck, just firm enough to grip and hold you in place. You gasped—literally gasped—at the touch. He almost broke right then. He still needed a little more.

“Do you think of me? When you touch yourself? Because I think of you. Every. Goddamn. Time.”

He had you all but pinned to the wall by your neck but his body was still not on yours. You could feel his breath as he spoke against your face but he was still too far away to kiss. He was so close but there was still a distance between you that he wanted you to cross. He wanted you to make that leap.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I think of you.”

“What do you think about?”

“I think about how your fingers are so much bigger than mine.” You clenched your thighs together. “I think about how well they’d stretch me open to fit you. I want you to stretch me open and make me take your cock.”

“Fuck,” he growled.

Rooster’s kiss was searing. He was all-consuming, smashing his lips to yours and holding you firmly in place with little wiggle room around the necklace his hand had become. His tongue searched into your mouth and you let it. You swapped spit and little nibbles at each other’s lips until Rooster decided to move on.

He let go of your neck only to move his lips to it, sucking and biting hard enough to leave little twinges of pain behind. It hurt so perfectly good. You couldn’t stay focused on how he was kissing your neck for long as his recently vacated hand moved to slide underneath your skirt.

“This thing was driving me crazy all night,” he said. “I swear half the bar was watching anytime you bent over to see if you were wearing any panties or not. It’s almost like you wanted people to stop and stare.”

“I wanted you to stare,” you confessed.

“Well, I did. Almost got hard at the sight of it.”

“Good.”

You gasped again as his fingers discovered you were not, in fact, wearing any underwear under your skirt. You really had wanted this; there was no other explanation. He just wishes he had seen it sooner.

He huffed out a bemused breath. “You are such a little minx.”

“And yet it took me coming here and telling you to fuck me to get it into your thick skull.”

“Keep giving me attitude and I’ll stop playing nice,” he warned, fingers barely ghosting over your dripping core.

“Who said I wanted nice?”

He halted. You laughed at him.

“Again, you’re missing the obvious, Roost,” you teased. “I tell you I want you to make me take your cock and you think I want to play nice? Come on. I want you to fuck me until I’m crying and not stop until I am begging you to.”

Rooster knows you very well. You are his best friend, and he’s yours. He shouldn’t have been all that surprised that the woman who lives for that spike of adrenaline both in and out of the cockpit wouldn’t want to take it slow. You drove him crazy with worry by how fast you flew, how hard you were able to take turns. If you wanted him to be mean, then he could be mean.

Your back hit the wall as Rooster slammed you against it. He pinned you there as he kissed you until you could barely breathe and his fingers—the fingers you imagined touching you so many times before—slid into the wetness between your folds. He dominated the kiss without much of a fight, licking into your mouth as you struggled to catch your breath.

He’d slicked his fingers up enough to slide one into you and you gasped. He pushed a second in beside it that had you whimpering against his lips. You already felt pulled tight against him with just this. The stretching part of your fantasy seemed to be necessary, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d complain at all if he forced his cock into you without prep.

Not this time, he told himself as he started to fuck his fingers into you. He could feel your heartbeat in your throat when he nipped at your neck again. You were gasping and choking on air above him. You squealed as he slid a third finger into you.

“You talk such big game for someone already wrecked,” he mused, pulling out of your neck to look at you. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet and you’re a mess.”

“Please—fuck! God…,” was all you could manage, not even a response just continued babbling brought on by how his fingers were working you open.

“I have half a mind to just stuff you full right now and not even bother prepping you.”

You keened at that, whining unintelligibly and grinding down into his hand.

“You like that? You want me to make it hurt?”

“Please. Please, Rooster. Please.”

You were begging him to do it, and who was he to deny you? Gentle could come later; this was a decade of pent up emotions coming to its head and he would not wait any longer than he had to.

You gave a little noise as he pulled his fingers out of you and you were suddenly left empty. He brought his hand to your mouth and you opened it to take his fingers inside, licking them clean of your own juices.

“God, you’re such a little slut,” he sang. “You’re so desperate for me.”

You only relaxed your mouth and let him move his fingers in and out of your lips, pressing into your tongue. You grabbed for his belt, desperate to get his pants off and get started already but your fingers kept fumbling, especially as Rooster tilted your head back and shoved his fingers deeper in your mouth. You gagged around them and he finally withdrew them, painting the saliva you left behind on your cheeks.

He started undoing his pants himself. “You gonna be good? Gonna take me like a good girl? Take whatever I give you?”

He pulled his member free and you nodded dumbly, eyes cast downward. “Uh huh.”

He laughed at you, stroking himself. He pushed you flat against the wall and kissed you, hitting your hands away when you reached down to touch him. He bent over and scooped you up off the ground. Legs around his waist, he held you up as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Tell me to stop if you need me to,” he said quietly.

“Just put it in already,” you whined.

He did as you asked, pushing into you inch by inch. “So fucking needy.”

You were gasping for air and grabbing at his arms for something—anything—to hold onto as you were overwhelmed by a cacophony of pain and pleasure at the stretch of your cunt around him. You knew he was big; an unwanted and painfully awkward conversation with a short-term girlfriend of his several years ago assured you of that fact. You still cursed as he bottomed out, touching parts of you that felt simply unfathomable.

“Oh my god,” you cried into his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he mumbled close to your ear. “You’re so fucking good.”

“God, please,” you begged.

He bucked his hips into you and you struggled to get oxygen into your lungs. You could focus only on breathing and the overwhelming pleasure of him moving in and out of you. You swear you could almost feel his head parting your insides around him, making room for himself in places you’d never felt before.

“Bradley.”

It was not the first time you had called him by his first name. You alternated between calling each other by your call signs, surnames, and first names, usage mostly dependent on where you happened to be. Never before had he heard you say his name like this. You’d never moaned his name, made it sound like a song that only he was meant to hear. It set his heart on fire.

You gripped his shoulders as he began fucking you against the wall. Gentle and loving would come later; he needed you as soon and as fast as possible. He needed to fuck ten years of sexual frustration out of system before he could even think about anything else. He wondered if you were in the same boat of needing it rough and hard, needing a mind-numbing, leg-spasming release before you could clear your head enough to think about a real future. A future with him.

You smacked your head on the wall as he thrusted up into you. “Ow!”

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

You grabbed at his arms. “Don’t stop.”

“Can you stop being so needy for two damn seconds? Gimme a minute.”

You giggled and gave a little yelp as the wall came away from supporting your back. Rooster easily held you up, walking away from the foyer to set you down. He spun you around and bent you over the arm of your couch. Before you could make another attempt at a protest, he was gripping your hips and pressing back into your cunt.

“Oh my god—holy shit!” you gasped at the new angle he was hitting you from.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he said, restarting his pace from before.

He could go harder in this position. He used his grip on you to pull your hips back and meet his strokes. Your cunt was tight around him, slick and warm and taking all of him just like you said you wanted. The best part of all of this was how badly you wanted it. The proof was in your trembling legs and the pornographic moans spilling from your mouth. It all just spurred him on.

He knew he was inside you, hammering away for his own release and for those pretty noises you kept making, but you still felt too far away. He pulled you back against him. His strong arms wrapped around your front, holding you close to his chest as he continued to fuck up into you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, neck an open canvas for him to kiss at.

He reached a hand down between your legs. That little bundle of nerves was found with ease. His fingers playing with it had you grabbing onto him in any way you could, on the arm still wrapped around you firmly, up to the base of his neck, your fingers curling into the ends of his hair. Your walls fluttered around him, clenching as you tipped closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m so close. God! God, don’t stop. Bradley, please.”

���You’re so good. So good for me. God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

He could feel his own release building up right alongside yours. He felt the pressure mounting in his gut as you clenched around him again, whining into his ear with your head thrown back as it was. He trailed his lips up your neck to your jaw.

“Come for me, beautiful,” he told you. “Come on. Come for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. Your whole body shuddered in his arms as you let out little broken moans and pleas. Your legs almost came out from under you as you were overwhelmed by pleasure, brain nearly short circuiting. Thankfully, Rooster was right there to keep you steady. He fucked you through your orgasm until you were oversensitive and trembling at him still moving inside of you.

With a grunt and a curse, he pulled out of you. “Fuck, baby. Shit—“

He pumped himself through release, cum painting your thighs. He caught himself on the couch as you two started to tip forward, both more than a little spent as you stood panting in the middle of your living room. You laughed breathlessly and leaned back into him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Good?” he asked.

“I’ve had better.”

“I—“

You guffawed at his indigence. “I’m kidding. No one has ever fucked me that good.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and dropped his forehead down to it. You ran your fingers over his arm, still holding you close.

“Or maybe I’ve just never had sex with someone I like as much as I like you.”

“I’m getting really mixed signals on whether or not you thought it was good. Because you say you’ve had better then you say it was good and now you’re—“

“I never knew you’d be so sensitive about your performance,” you said. “What? Was me moaning my head off not a clear enough message that it was fucking amazing?”

“Okay, just making sure.”

You laughed. “Who knew you’d be so sensitive about your performance?”

“Alright, next time I’ll be sure to only focus on my own feelings and not care at all if you’re enjoying it or not.”

“Next time?” You turned in his arms. “I like the sound of that.”

He’s certain the grin he gave you was one of the goofy and wide variety, but he doesn’t care because he’s in love with you and could not help it. You pulled him in to a kiss. He returned it sweetly, before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to your bedroom. He went to set you down on the bed, fully prepared to tuck himself right next to you and face all the dirty details in the morning.

“Hang on,” you said, sliding out of his arms.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

He could just see his cum cooling into place between your thighs. Maybe sleep would come a little harder than he thought.

“And no condom?” You click your tongue. “That’s a risky maneuver, lieutenant.”

“I saw you take your birth control two days ago, so don’t try to psych me out on that shit. I’m thinking of folding you in half and fucking you again, only this time I’ll finish inside.”

You let out a low, pleased giggle at getting him riled up. “Do you want me to reassure you you’re doing a good job every couple of minutes this time, or will me screaming your name suffice?”

“Why don’t you get over here and find out?”

Rooster made a move to grab you, but you slipped out of reach and back into the hallway you came from. He chased right after you. Yeah. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight at all.