#bradley bradshaw: forgetful boy

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Something Worth Remembering

Summary: You were hopeful that you’d be moved into your new house before Christmas, but after another renovation delay, that’s not in the cards. To your credit, you make the most of the situation, and Bradley falls in love with you even more because of it. But he’s determined to make your first Christmas together special, and sets out to plan a surprise that ensures the holiday will be one both of you will always remember. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)  

(can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.7K 

Warnings: Warm fuzzy Hallmark feelings. Language. Allusions to smut. 

Notes: Some holiday action for my faves. Written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Challenge with the prompt "home for the holidays”. Also as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. 

—---

____

Bradley stopped short when he walked through the front door, eyes widening as he took in the scene in front of him. 

“Um…Pumpkin?” 

“You’re home!” 

You popped up so suddenly from the other side of the counter in the kitchen that he jumped slightly in surprise. “Am I?” he asked slowly, closing the door behind him and bending down to unlace and take off his boots. You laughed brightly as you stepped around some of the shopping bags on the floor to get to him. He accepted the kiss from you eagerly, feeling the stress from another work day dissipate as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Contractors called,” you told him once you pulled back, resting a hand on his chest. Your ring sparkled in the light streaming in through the open curtains, and Bradley couldn’t help but smile before he registered the words. “There’s a delay with the electrician and the flooring.” 

Bradley groaned, the familiar annoyance of hearing the word “delay” coursing through him. The home the two of you had purchased was a fixer upper, tucked into the end of a cul de sac in a neighborhood not too far from base. There was work that needed to be done to make it everything you wanted, but neither of you had anticipated all the headaches that would come along with that. It would be a long project, you knew, but the contractor you had hired had promised it would at least be livable within the first few weeks. 

That had been nearly two months ago now, and the delays kept piling up. Barely anything had been done at this point, and he knew he’d have to call the administrative office tomorrow to extend the lease on the on-base apartment, again. 

“Of course there is.” 

You smiled gently, and Bradley couldn’t help but let some of the annoyance slip away at the soft look on your face. He took a deep breath and let himself relax, pressing a kiss to your forehead before releasing you. He gestured to the tiny apartment the Navy had provided you with, smaller than the shoebox you had called home back in DC, that definitely did not look like what it did when he left for work this morning. 

“Is that why it suddenly looks like Christmas threw up in here?” 

You threw your head back as you giggled. The sound caused a full blown smile to cross Bradley’s face, warming him from the inside out.

“I was holding out hope that we would be able to spend Christmas in our new house, even if it’s not finished. But since the electrician’s are delayed, the floor people can’t come until the 28th. So I decided to finally cave and decorate here instead. But I didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on nice decorations, because I want to save that for when we’re completely moved in next year.” 

“So…” 

“So I may or may not have bought out a good portion of the Dollar Tree Christmas aisle, and spent way too long deciding on white lights or multicolored lights for the $20 table top tree that I bought.” 

Bradley laughed loudly, looking around your temporary home once again. Red and green and gold covered the minimal available surfaces, and a small lopsided tree sat on the corner table in the living room, a bag of what he assumed to be decorations sitting beside it. Your cat, Florry, was curled up on top of a pile of bright green garland on the floor. 

"Who needs a fancy new house when we can have our own little tacky winter wonderland right here?"

Your eyes sparkled with delight as you spoke, clearly thrilled by the idea, or at least incredibly amused by it. Bradley knew that Christmas was your favorite holiday, and how much you loved the festive season. This would be the first one you ever spent together. When you had toured the house months ago, you had pointed out the perfect place for a tree and where certain decorations could go. You had been so excited to spend the holiday in your new home. As the delays started coming in you had adjusted just how grandiose your plans would be, but you had taken it in stride. Now you were only six days out from Christmas itself and you were once again just making the best of the situation that neither of you could control. 

Not for the first time, he wondered how he had gotten so lucky. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he said, "Let me go change, and then I’ll help you make this the tackiest, most magical Christmas ever."

You grinned at him, a mischievous spark in your eyes. "Challenge accepted."

_____

The Dagger Squad had an impromptu and unofficial holiday party the next night at the Hard Deck, and it still blew Bradley away seeing you intermixed so perfectly with his friends, both old and new. You floated from conversation to conversation and when he wasn’t by your side, he watched you with a smile on his face. He knew you were perfect for him, but seeing you fitting in like this just reaffirmed it. 

“How’s the house coming along?” 

He looked over at Mav as he leant against the bar beside him, handing him a fresh beer. He was still getting used to being around his godfather after all this time, but they had settled into a peaceful kind of hesitancy as they relearned what it meant to be in the other’s life, and it was nice, even if Bradley had to remind himself to breathe sometimes. 

“Slowly.” 

His tone must have relayed how he was feeling because Mav shot him a sympathetic wince. “Another delay?” 

“Yup.” Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “They can’t get the electricians in until tomorrow, which is when the flooring was supposed to go in. So now that got pushed to after Christmas” 

Mav clasped a hand on Bradley's shoulder, offering a supportive squeeze. "It'll all come together eventually. How’s she taking it?” 

He snorted as he brought the drink to his lips, taking another sip. “She handles stress and shit like this better than anyone I know.” 

Mav smiled, nodding in what looked like approval. “You got yourself a good one.” 

Bradley hummed his agreement and let his eyes stray to you, chuckling softly when he saw you dancing with Nat. Sometime in the last few minutes, you had stolen the Santa hat that Coyote had arrived with, the red and white material perched on your head. You twirled around with his best friend to the Christmas song playing over the jukebox, laughing merrily. You really did love this time of year. 

You had told him that you didn’t care where you spent the holiday, so long as you were together. It was your first Christmas together, after all. But Bradley still felt guilty over not being able to get you into the house sooner. You had only been married for a few months, and you had given up your whole entire life to move out to California when he got permanently assigned here. It’s a decision you would make again and again, he knew, but he still wished there was something he could do, too. You had made far more sacrifices than he had. He wanted this holiday to be special. Memorable. 

You were just a little bit tipsy when you got back to the apartment that night. You had clung to Bradley’s arm with both of yours the whole way up to the third floor from the parking lot, but the moment you walk through the door, you’re releasing him to go plug in the tiny table top tree. You plug in the string lights lining the kitchen counters next, humming a christmas song he can’t quite place under your breath as you do. You turned to him once the space was illuminated, the soft golden glow highlighting your smile. 

“Pretty nice, huh? These cheap decorations aren’t so bad - I may just keep them for the new house, too.” 

Your ability to make the most of everything made his heart stutter. He was in front of you in only three quick strides, one hand landing on your hip while the other cupped your face. He bent to connect your lips in a kiss. He could still taste the peppermint from the candy cane you sucked on on the ride home, and the taste of the champagne Penny had broken out at the end of the night for a toast. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and return the kiss, both of you getting so lost in it that by the time he pulled away, he was panting.

“You must really like the cheap decor,” you breathed, and Bradley huffed out a laugh at your joke. 

“I just really like you,” he quipped, and he enjoyed how a shiver went through your body at his response. 

As you changed into pajamas and settled on the couch together, an idea started forming in his head. He thought he might know just what to do to make this holiday memorable for you after all. 

_____

“Are you sure you don’t mind me running out for a bit?” you asked for what was probably the tenth time as you slid your sweater on over your head. Bradley groaned to himself as your body was covered from his view as he lounged in bed. He had been watching you get ready, enjoying not for the first time how getting dressed was almost always the last step in your process. 

“I’m positive,” he said, also for the tenth time. You gave him a dubious look and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Pumpkin, I promise it’s okay.” 

“I know, but it’s our first Christmas Eve together!” 

Bradley moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his arms open. You stepped between his spread legs and let your hands rest on his shoulders as he looked up at you, squeezing your sides through your red sweater. “Technically, it’s Christmas Eve morning. And I think you getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife will be nice for you. You’ve been so busy with work and the move that you haven’t really had time to make friends.” 

“I was already friends with Nat.” 

He rolled his eyes at you fondly. “You know what I mean.” 

You sighed again, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head in the way that always calmed him down, even when he wasn’t feeling stressed out. He thought maybe the motion soothed you, too. “I think it’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah,” you admitted slowly, nodding hesitantly. “I do too.” 

“Then go. Have fun. I’ll be here when you get back, and we’ll spend Christmas Eve together. The morning doesn’t count.” 

You snorted, but nodded nonetheless. He accepted the kiss you gave him right as your phone started ringing from the bedside table. Nat was there to pick you up, just like he had requested her to when he asked for her help with pulling off this surprise by getting you out of the apartment for a few hours today. 

He gave it ten minutes after you had left before he jumped up and started taking down all of the decorations you had strewn throughout the apartment. It was easy work considering how small the place was, only taking him a few trips to and from the Bronco. He grabbed the small tree last, carrying it delicately so that none of the ornaments fell off and wouldn’t have to be reconstructed. 

It didn’t take too long to get to the house at the end of the cul de sac that was now in both of your names, traffic light despite the holiday. He let himself in with the key that was still shiny with how new it was. He let out a sigh of relief when he flipped the switch and the overhead light in the living room actually turned on - with everything that had gone on, he wouldn’t have been all that surprised if it hadn’t. He made quick work of bringing in everything from the car, including the items that he had purchased and kept in the trunk without you seeing them this week. 

He knew he had limited time, as Nat could only commit to a few hours of keeping you distracted, but it would be more than enough with what he needed to do. His phone buzzed right as he was finishing up a little more than an hour later, your name flashing up at him.

Pumpkin🧡: Getting the check! Back soon❤️

He sent back a response telling you he’d see you soon, quickly finishing up. He locked the door behind him and jogged to the Bronco parked in the driveway, and he was only back at the apartment for less than 10 minutes when you walked in the door with a large smile on your face that quickly morphed into horrified confusion.  

“What happened to our decorations?”

“Hey, Pumpkin. How was brunch?” 

“Were we robbed?”

Bradley barked out a laugh, shaking his head at your wide eyes. “Of our dollar tree Christmas decorations?”

You just gestured wildly around the space, devoid of any hint of the holiday cheer that had existed in its space earlier in the day. He laughed again, closing the distance to where you stood at the still open front door. He reached around you to push it closed before pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips, pursued in an adorable pout. “We weren’t robbed,” he assured you. “But I do have a present for you. Go get changed.” 

“What?” 

He squeezed your hips, smiling warmly. “Trust me?” 

You eyed him closely for a moment before your pout eventually settled into a soft grin, and you let out a long sigh before you nodded. “Always.” 

He kissed you again, a little deeper this time, but pulled away before he could get totally lost in it. “Pajamas are on the bed.”

“Pajamas? It’s 2pm!” 

He only chuckled in response, playfully smacking your butt when you started walking back toward the bedroom. “Trust me.” 

You got even more suspicious when you emerged from the bedroom and saw that he had Florry in her carrier at the door and had changed into his own pajamas. He twirled his keys around his fingers and then held open the door for you. Once you were in the Bronco, cat meowing at your feet, he held out a red silk piece of cloth that made your eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seriously? A blindfold?”

“Think of it like a Christmas adventure. Now let me put it on.”

You huffed a breath but he knew you weren't actually mad - you loved surprises, and there was a smile tugging at your lips as you turned to allow him to tie the silk at the back of your head. He kissed your hair when he was done and turned to start the vehicle. 

“You know,” you said casually, just as Bradley was pulling out of the parking lot, “this blindfold might come in handy later. We should make sure the headboard we pick out has appropriate accommodations.” 

He groaned at the implication, a flush creeping up his neck on instinct. You giggled happily, knowing the effect you had on him. He rested a hand on your thigh as he drove, yours covering his in a familiar move. The feeling of your ring on his skin was one he had grown to love in the last few months since you’ve gotten married. 

You threw out guesses the entire drive over, each one more extravagant and ludicrous than the one before. By the time he pulled into the driveway that one day will be an everyday occurrence, he was grinning so hard that his cheeks were starting to hurt. 

“Don’t move,” he said when he saw you reach for the door handle. He jogged around the Bronco to the passenger side, opening your door. He helped you down before reaching back in for Florry’s carrier, pressing it into your hands so you could carry her, while he focused on you. 

"Alright, Pumpkin," he whispered, his voice laced with eagerness. "Keep your blindfold on, and I'll guide you." His hand tightened around yours as he led you out of the car and towards the front door of your new home. Excitement coursed through him as he thought about your reaction, and he loved that he knew instinctively that it would be positive. 

He loved that he knew you so well. 

“Stay here just a second,” he instructed once he got you through the door. He moved away from you to quickly plug everything in, coming back to you once the room was cast both in the sunlight streaming through the windows and the artificial LED lights. 

He stood in front of you, a grin playing on his lips as he watched you fidget with anticipation. Your blindfold was still securely in place, blocking your vision from the surprise he had prepared. You were so damn beautiful, and he would never understand how he got lucky enough to call himself yours. 

"Okay, baby," he said softly.  He gently took the carrier out of your hands, setting it on the floor and letting the cat out to wander the new space that he had cleared of anything that might hurt her, before moving to stand behind you. Your back flush against his front, he moved his hands up your arms in a smooth caress, settling on your shoulders and squeezing in affection. "You can take off the blindfold now."

With trembling hands, you reached up and slipped the silk cloth from your eyes, revealing the scene before you. Gasping in awe, your eyes widened as you took in the sight that unfolded in the living room. 

“Oh my God. Bradley.” 

The room was still very much a construction zone, but he had moved all of the decorations from the apartment, plus a few more that he had gotten, to decorate the barren space. The tree you had bought sat on the floor in the corner. Blankets lined the unfinished floors, as well as humongous cotton puffs to replicate snow. An air mattress covered with bright red sheets and a green blanket was in the middle of the room. Everything looked straight out of a tacky high school Christmas play, but it was so bad that it was almost good - whimsical and unique.

He watched as you took it all in, feeling his heart beating double time in his chest. When you turned to face him, there was a wide smile on your face, and tears shining in your pretty eyes. You didn’t have to ask for him to know what you were thinking. 

“I wanted our first Christmas together to be in our home, even if it’s not finished yet. I figured we could camp out for the day. You-” The words were knocked out of him as you launched yourself into his arms. He held you for a long moment, pressing a kiss into your hair as your laughter settled. “You deserve something special, Pumpkin,” he finally finished, voice softer than it had been. 

You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes, your hands cupping his face. “All I need is you, baby. You know that?” 

He turned his head just slightly to press a kiss into your palm, nodding once. “I do.” A smirk twitched at his lips, his mustache twitching with the expression. “Does that mean you want me to pack all this up and return your gifts, too?” 

The gasp you let out was damn near scandalized. "Oh, no you don't!" you playfully swatted at his chest. You motioned toward the tacky decorations with a mischievous grin. "We can't let these go to waste. It's our first Christmas, after all."

Bradley chuckled, arms secure around you.  "It sure is," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. He leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, the taste of anticipation lingering. 

“Besides,” you murmured quietly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar look that had him warming from the inside out. “This gives us a jump start on christening the place. That air mattress looks mighty comfortable.” 

Desire flared through him, and he wasted no time in scooping you up in his arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the makeshift bed. Your laughter echoed in the space as he laid you down. 

“You know I’m gonna make you pack all of this back up and put it back up in the apartment until at least New Years, right?” you asked him, slightly breathless as he moved his kisses from your lips down to your neck, nipping at the skin. 

Bradley chuckled, his hands pushing your shirt up, revealing soft skin that he loved to touch. “Oh, of that I have no doubt.” 

Later, you lay nestled together underneath the green blanket, the crackling sound of a virtual fireplace playing from his laptop on the floor beside you while Christmas music played lightly from your phone. You were basking in the glow of the makeshift display as your breathing calmed. You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his beating heart. He was sure that it skipped a beat at the gesture, but if you noticed, you didn’t comment on it. 

“I can’t wait until we’re in here for good,” you whispered instead. 

He hummed in response, tracing lazy patterns on your bare back. “Me too.” 

You snorted after another moment, propping your head up to meet his eyes. “Hell of a first memory to make here, don’t you think?” 

Bradley laughed lightly, a contented smile spreading across his face. It certainly was, in all of the best ways. “I’ll remember this forever,” he said, voice filled with warmth and conviction, because he couldn’t fathom ever forgetting any moment with you, especially something as perfect as this. 

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

Main Masterlist :: The Forgotten Moments Masterlist

Notes: It's been far too long since I wrote anything for these two. I hope you enjoyed it! Likes/comments/reblogs are always appreciated if you did🧡

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all their help!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage

@greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Ah! Thank you, Cass. I love my angsty little Forgetful Boy🧡

Any Bradley fics you recommend that have broken your heart?? I’m the mood to cry tbh

Bradley fics that have broken my heart, aside from the one I'm currently writing? Or it's only my heart (save yourself) 🫣 But of course, nonny! we specialise in devastation in these parts...

The ones should be no-brainers and on everyone's fic list:

@pisupsala's one for the history books

@beyondthesefourwalls's remember you when i don't

@gretagerwigsmuse's and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay (part 1.5/2) & waiting room

but this is just a shortlist - please go check their masterlists. You're on a one-way ticket to get the whole shebang!

FRIENDS! IF YOU HAVE ANY TO ADD, PLEASE REBLOG OR COMMENT xx

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Don't You Forget About Me

Part One

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Description: Sometimes the most unlikely encounters with people have an immeasurable effect on your life. For Bradley Bradshaw, life at 22 right after graduating from college is far different than he ever thought it would be. It kind of seems like his whole life hasn't gone according to plan. No parents, no support system, just one man and his dad's old Bronco against the world. A chance meeting with a blond-haired teenage menace in Texas may just change everything, shaping his future in a way he never would have expected. Disclaimer: This is a Hangster story -> What you see is what you get, folks. Slight mention of homophobic/ lgbtq+ phobic family members. Word Count: 3624 Author's Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event based on the song Don't You Forget About Me by the Simple Minds. Everything about it just screamed Hangster when I listened to it again. As anybody who knows me or has read my works can surmise... I can be quite long-winded so what was supposed to be a quick blurb turned into a short two-part series. I hope you all love this fic! (Also I'm self conscious about this one because I do not write in first person. It's surprisingly hard so I'd love any feedback if you've got it!)

It's dark and smoky and loud in here and I can't believe that I let Jessica and David drag me to this party. They've long since disappeared into the crush and left me on the under-stuffed chintz armchair in some frat house’s living room. It doesn't help that I haven't been to Texas in years and I feel even more like I’m out of my depths because of it. My mom grew up here, and most of her family is still here. But she's not. In the years since I graduated from high school, I've turned hundreds of times, looking for her sweet smile, searching for her to take solace in. But she's not exactly on this mortal plane anymore. Neither of my parents are. And the closest thing I've ever had to a dad fucked off after destroying my dreams.

It fills me with an unreasonable rage every time I think about it. I know Virginia, I've lived in Virginia for years, putting myself through school in Charlottesville while working single-mindedly to get into the US Navy. I’m so close to flight school that I can taste it. I just need to get through Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island now that I’ve graduated. One final summer of building my savings by working odd jobs and I’d be free. Or so I thought.

Then, I received a notice telling me my apartment building needed to be tented for termites. My lease was only valid until I left for OCS, anyway. I debated living out of my dad's car, now mine, until I had to be in Rhode Island. That’s when I received a letter from Stephanie Williams, my mom’s cousin, inviting me to spend the summer in Texas. Driving to Texas is far from convenient, but I haven't spent any time around my family, no matter how distant they may be, in so long. And, I’m kind of homesick - homesick for the sense of camaraderie, of walking into the house after baseball practice or school and hearing anyone in the house besides myself.

Jessica and David, Stephanie’s kids, are as nice as their mom. They both attend the University of Texas, but it still feels like there is a distance between us. They can't understand the drive burning in me about the Navy, how I need to do well at OCS, how I need to become an aviator, how I need to be better than anyone else. Aunt Steph doesn't really get it either if the way she practically pushed me out the door when Jess and David mentioned the party is any indication.

It doesn't help that I'm only a week from reporting to OCS, either. I know it’s not flight school, not yet, but I know I need to study more than I need to be in this stupid little ramshackle frat house on Greek Row. The beer’s watered down and warm, tasting like piss in my mouth. Normally, I’d be right in the center of the makeshift dance floor grinding up against the scantily clad girls in sight, most of them wearing bikinis, but not tonight. 

I just want to go home again, but that’s not possible. It hasn't been for years. I leave the mostly full beer behind and search for Jess and David. There are hundreds of drunk kids in the house, and it doesn’t matter at all that I’m taller than most of them, not when people are dancing on the tables and licking alcohol off of each other. I feel like I’m suffocating. The entire house stinks of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sweat. It takes fifteen minutes to look for either of them in the basement. When I’m halfway up the stairs, I’m tempted to leave them here and drive by in the morning to get them. But Aunt Steph would hate that.

The first floor is even worse than the basement. There may not be anybody dancing on the tables, but there is far more clothing being thrown about. It looks like there’s a drunken orgy happening in the living room on the floor. The carpet isn’t all that clean, to begin with, and add bodily fluids to it, and I nearly hurl on the spot. 

If this is what I’ve missed out on in the traditional college experience, well, I don’t want it, not at all. Thankfully, I don’t have to see either of my cousins naked and that eliminates the kitchen and living area entirely. All I have left are the bedrooms above. Just walking up the stairs, I can hear the creaking of bedsprings and lusty moans. It sounds like a contagious disease waiting to happen, and I don’t make it past the top step.

That’s it. I can’t search for Jess or David anymore and I fight my way to the front door while trying to ignore the tits that seem to get shoved into my face every few steps. As I open the door, a body slams right into me. It’s a kid, gangly and blond, knobby shoulders protruding sharply through the fabric of the worn t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” I can’t help the chuckle pouring out of my mouth. I’ve got at least 8 inches in height on him and I could easily break him into two if I wanted to. He must be ninety pounds soaking wet and his indignation is about as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. But I’m not looking for a fight, so I just move out of the way. Something about his angry green eyes and how they glow in the fresh night air is oddly captivating. I’m honestly not expecting to see him again, but just as I reach the Bronco and open the door, I see the same person get bodily chucked out of the house.

He’s shouting expletives into the night air, and when his anger runs out, he hunches his shoulders and stomps in my direction. Of course, a snarl rips out of his mouth the moment he sees me.

“What, asshole? Haven’t you seen someone get kicked out of a party by a bunch of dicks before?” 

“I have, kid. But I wanted to know if you were okay. Your knuckles look rough.” It’s true. His knuckles are bloody and bruised like he’s been punching something hard with no control. Those are going to sting like a bitch in the morning.

He snorts and must see something unassuming in my face because he uncrosses his arms and says, “I’m not a kid, I'm seventeen.” He’s a little young to be running around the UT campus and getting thrown out of parties, but I have the feeling if I say anything, he’ll probably just jump down my throat again. “I’m Jake.”

“Bradley.” I grin back. “Get in.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t get into cars with strangers.” He’s quick-witted, that’s for sure.

“No.” If my eyes roll as I look at Jake, that’s just between him and me. He must feel like shit if he hasn’t called me out for it yet. “I have a first aid kit in the glove box. I wanted to look at your knuckles before they scab over.” Jake looks shocked. I can almost see the gears grinding in his head as he thinks my words over.

“Move over.” I have to hide my grin until he’s safely in the passenger seat. I don’t know why it feels like such a victory, having this stranger accept my help. I leave the door open and lean in. He smells coffee and spice with an undertone of musk, sitting in my passenger seat with his eyes looking far too green in the low light.

“You don’t go to UT, do you?” Instead of responding, I just pop open the glove compartment and tug out the med kit.

“So what is this, Bradley?” He sounds disgruntled. “No answers without you taking care of my hands?”

I just hold my hand out until he puts his into mine. It’s a long-fingered hand, thin and bony. No well-fed eighteen-year-old boy has hands that look like this. Hands that look like they’ve been working every day of their life. I want to know why Jake’s got such a big chip on his shoulder and why someone so young has hands that look so worn.

“I’m really alright, you know?” I’m as gentle as I can be, patting at scraped knuckles with an isopropyl alcohol soaked cotton ball. Jake may talk a big game, but he’s wincing with each word. 

“Who’d you punch to fuck up your knuckles so badly?” 

“My asshole ex-boyfriend. He was cheating on me with one of his teammates. And I just found out today.” Jake’s voice chokes on a sob, and I can’t help the twinge of sympathy that goes through me at his words. Maybe I’m too quiet, because there’s a sharp tug on my sleeve.

“D’you have a problem with that?” Jake’s glaring at me, and it takes me longer than it usually would for me to figure out why.

“About the fact that you had a boyfriend?” He nods, the movement jerky and sharp. “Why would I care about that? You love who you love, that’s it.”

He looks blown away by my immediate acceptance of who he is. But Jake seems uncomfortable at the same time, uncomfortable enough that he changes the subject. “You never answered me earlier. You don’t go to school at UT.”

“No, I don’t.” I collect the trash into a small ball and put the kit away again. It feels weird to stand out in the night and talk when I have a perfectly good driver’s seat right on the other side of the car. I can already see a hundred questions on the tip of Jake’s tongue, so I hold one hand up and point to the trash bin nearby. I can feel every bit of his gaze on my back as I lope to the can and back, opting this time to get into the driver’s seat. Of course, no sooner am I buckled in, Jake’s looking right at me.

“Why are you here, then? Why were you at that party tonight?” I can hear the naked curiosity in his tone.

“I’m staying with some of my mom’s family over the summer. A couple of my relatives go to UT for school and invited me to the party. I just graduated from college and I’m joining the Navy in a week.” It sounds so real as I say the words. They sound equally real, it looks like, to Jake.

“Why the Navy?" I haven't felt like I'm the focus of another person in a long time. I feel flayed open, horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

My voice is quiet, a little rough, a little raw as I say, "My dad was in the Navy."

"What did he do?" I blink a little, not expecting this question so soon. Normally people want to know why my dad was in the Navy, in the past tense. They want to know what happened to him. They never want to know what he did or anything else about him.

"He was a Naval Aviator, a Radar Intercept Officer, to be specific." It makes me smile, like always, remembering my dad.

"What does a Radar Intercept Whatsit do?" Jake's nearly open-mouthed in the passenger seat, body turned my way in a jumble of limbs that looks nearly too cramped to be comfortable, beat up sneakers on the floor and wholly fascinated by every word pouring out of my mouth. That's unique too. I've never felt this rush, this instant connection before with anybody. 

"A Radar Intercept Officer," I repeat, earning myself an eye roll, "is the person sitting behind the pilot. They're responsible for enabling communications with ships and other jets, navigating and monitoring the radar. Pilots fly the plane, but RIOs do everything else." 

"Sounds boring." I have to chuckle at that, because when he's not angrily grumbling, Jake's actually handsome. And that's not a realization I ever wanted to have about a seventeen-year-old I just met. Forget the place, there's the matter of how this is all the wrong time, too. I can't afford any distractions, not even cute little twinks with more attitude than sense. I'm joining the military for fuck's sake. Don't Ask, Don't Tell is still very strongly enforced and Jake seems like the type to bulldoze his way on base one day just for the hell of it. Better stick to talking about flying, that's all. And that’s if we manage to stay in touch until he’s actually legal, too.

"Do you want to become a RIO too?" His voice is hesitant as he sounds out the acronym.

"Nah, I've always wanted to become a pilot. Actually fly the planes, y'know?" I swear I can see literal fighter jets flying around Jake's head, he's so enraptured by the idea.

"Is it hard?" 

I have to shrug at that, because maybe I just have flying in my blood. "Not any harder than learning how to drive or ride a bike - at least that's what it was like for me."

I can see Jake think of a few hundred more questions, but stop him with one of my own. "What’s a seventeen year old doing at a UT frat party?" 

 His nose crinkles, "Who said I’m not a student at UT?"

"Nobody. But something about you tells me that you aren’t a UT Student, even though seventeen-year-olds join universities as freshmen all the time." I’m almost afraid to see that look on his face. But instead, Jake seems to be feeling the same awe that I was earlier - horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

“Nah. I work at one of the coffee shops on campus.” No wonder he smells like cinnamon and coffee.

"But you don't want to, do you?"

His nod is sheepishly affirmative. "My uncle says I should get out of the house and do something with myself over the summer. If he had his way, when I graduate in a year I’ll be doing the same thing. But I want to do something exciting, not farm work or work in a factory or hell, even be a barista anymore. I think the Navy might be just the thing."

I have to grin at his enthusiasm. But a part of me can’t help wondering if the reason why Jake is so interested in escaping Austin is because of something else. But I’m not quite sure how to broach the topic. It’s silent and still in the car for a little bit. Jake looks like he’s thinking of what to say, and I’m struck by the halo the streetlight we’re under makes around his hair. He’s pretty, indescribably so, even with a purplish bruise rising on his cheekbone. His long lashes shine golden against the freckles dotting his cheekbones. I reach for the polaroid I always keep in the car and snap a couple of quick pictures. I hand one to Jake, but just as he’s about to ask me why I did that, I see red and blue lights in the rear view mirror and hear sirens blaring our way.

“Shit! C’mon, Bradley! Drive the car!” It takes me a few seconds to process what he’s saying but when I do, I put the car in drive and drive sedately down the street. 

“What the fuck, Brad!” I haven’t heard anyone call me Brad in years. That’s what my mom called me, what Mav did too. “Drive a little bit faster, why don’t you?! You keep driving like a fucking turtle and the cops will catch us in no time flat!”

“I’m driving at the speed limit.” I chuckle at the way Jake grumbles under his breath. “The police won’t pull us over if we’re doing everything right. You probably don’t want them calling your folks to tell them you were at a party, underage where alcohol was being served and an orgy was happening on the living room floor, now do you?”

We’re thankfully able to leave the scene without any trouble, and I let Jake direct me through the late night Austin streets. It’s quiet, and in the half-light I can’t help noticing how incredibly small and delicate Jake is at this moment. He has me pull over a few blocks away.

“Do you make a habit of running from the cops?” He laughs at that, a genuine belly aching infectious cackle bursting out of his mouth.

“No, I don’t.” Something dark glows over his eyes just as easily as the laugh. “My uncle wouldn’t have been happy at all if he had gotten that call.”

I really don’t know what to say to that, so I just wait.

“My mom always says that she doesn’t know who my dad was, and well, I don’t know if you know much about conservative Texans, but that was a no-go for most of my family. She’s out of state, working in a library in North Carolina, I think? And I’m with my aunt and uncle until I turn 18.”   

“I’m sure the minute that happens, I’m going to get kicked out. They didn’t approve of me just because I was born out of wedlock. They hated me even more when they found out I wasn’t exactly only into girls. My mom doesn’t know how bad it is for me here. And I’m not going to tell her either. I just don't know what to do.” He sniffles, sitting in the passenger seat, cheeks pinking in the glow of the streetlights. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this either. But it feels like the universe wanted us to meet tonight. It feels like I can trust you.”

I’m struck dumb by those words and the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I’m flattered by his trust. It has me spilling all of my biggest secrets. I tell him more about my dad, about mom, about Mav. I tell him about my biggest victories and darkest regrets. We talk for hours, taking turns baring our souls until the sky turns gray at the edges. It's the small hours of the morning, that small section of the twilight zone where everything feels extra still. My throat is scratchy and my eyes are dry. Jake’s not much better.

The sleepy drawl in his voice makes shivers trail up and down my spine and it’s still so foreign feeling like this for someone I’ve just met. It’s a little terrifying, too. Far too soon, we’re pulling up in front of the party house. 

"I should get going." A part of me wants to stop him, offer to give him a ride, anything to stay in his presence just a bit longer. But the more rational part, the one chanting US Navy and Top Gun is screaming just as vehemently no.

"Do you need a ride?" My voice is nearly too loud for this time of night.

"Nah, Bradley. I live right around the corner." Jake gives me a two-fingered salute and begins to walk away, his shoulders bowed and looking incredibly small. It's a surprise when he stops, turns back around and jogs back to the car. He flings the door open, and I'm surprised to see the two spots of pink high up on his cheeks.

"Can we stay in touch? I'd love to pick your brain about the Navy, sometime?"

I'm nodding before my common sense can speak, ignoring the insidious little voice that says, "No you won't ever see him again. You're joining the Navy."

I hand Jake a pen and a scrap of paper I found in my pockets. What I get back is his first name and a phone number. "This is my landline. See you around, Bradley?"

My reply is too quiet as I roll the syllables of his name over my tongue. By the time Jessica and David have staggered their way out to the car, I'm sure Jake was just a figment of my imagination. Two weeks later, when it's my first turn with the phones on base, I call that number. I get a message telling me that the phone number I'm calling has been disconnected. I never get rid of that note though. It's almost like something's screaming at me to remember Jake. Maybe one day I'll find him again. And who knows? Maybe he's a lot closer than I think he is.

Nine Years Later

It’s been a long road getting to Top Gun. Walking through the halls it feels like everything I’ve worked and struggled for has finally paid off. I’m a pilot, I’m talented, if I do say so myself, and there is nothing I want to do more than finally put the Bradshaw name on that trophy. Walking into the classroom that first morning, I feel like this is the start of something great. Until the first hop later that week. There’s a blond in class with an ego that cashes checks for money he doesn’t have. But he has the skill to back up his words.

“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster. Are you ever going to get off your perch?” Hangman. Even his callsign fills me with rage. I’ve never met a more annoying person in my life. But there is something about him which seems familiar. Why does Hangman of all people seem so familiar? It’s a puzzle I can’t devote any time to solving. Not when I have to knock a blond idiot down a few pegs. I wonder what the Jake I met all those years ago would think about Hangman. I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

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[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

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

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

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

"Julian?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's it say?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

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

"Good luck!"

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

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

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

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

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

"No. They left about an hour ago."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got this!"

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

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

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

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

"No ID, no entrance."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's not here?"

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

"Well, where are we going next?"

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

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

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

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really don't remember?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

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@desert-fern

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[criesinliess]

━MARCH 2025; susan's recs

MARVEL

━━JOAQUIN TORRES

existence @siempre-bucky

forget it @sunsburns

beyond misconceptions @nathanbatemanfucker

━━BUCKY BARNES

none of it was fake @inkedbybarnes

blind date @↑

supposed distraction @marvelstoriesepic

creamy or crunchy @↑

in too deep @↑

like he means it @↑

weakness @↑

latte (he)art @↑

two @↑

still on the list @↑

angstober (day 16) @↑

flufftober (day 9) @↑

flufftober (day 12+13) @↑

his girl @artficlly

across the hall @helaintoloki

━━MATT MURDOCK

playing pretend @thyme-in-a-bubble

lie detector @ellephlox

castle in the sky @↑

guilty as sin? @swanmurdock

━━FRANK CASTLE

same sin @spider-stark

━━LOKI

i’m not him @wittyandobsessed

SPIDER-MAN

━━ANDREW! PETER PARKER

spider-boy @spider-stark

CRIMINAL MINDS

━━SPENCER REID

impressions @gf2bellamy

guilt @↑

surprise @↑

birthday @↑

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

sunkissed @rafeyssugar

how not to @promiscuousg1rl

i love you, i’m sorry ��� masterlist @drewstarkeyluvbot

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

a family affair @skeltnwrites

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

hotter than texas part4 @tongue-like-a-razor

CELEBRITIES

━━GEORGE CLARKE

sparks fly!; i think he knows!; how to get the girl! @tomsparkyr

call it what you want @/mangoslvr

silent treatment @kislnd

━━ARTHUR HILL

jealousy, jealousy @pookietv

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Ah! Thanks for loving Forgetful Boy so much, Cass! He’s still one of my all time favorites!🧡

Thanks for this challenge, Jay! So neat to see everyone’s lists!

@notroosterbradshaw @thedroneranger

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ notroosterbradshaw Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

It's been a minute since I've posted a Rewind! My non-tumblr life has been bumping, so I haven't been quite as active.

However, I'm excited to present a Rewind from one of the first creators I read in this fandom. A few of their fics are on my Rewind. Without further ado: @notroosterbradshaw!

Cass is a tried and true Bradshaw Baddie™, so we have ourselves another all Bradshaw Rewind!

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love! And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

Let's keep this going throughout the summer, so if you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

Creator's note: I have a tendency to re-read long fics. I can find it difficult to commit to new things (I watch the same tv shows over and over, and the same goes for fics). It’s a terrible personality trait.

Crossfire, @purelyfiction Crossfire was the first TGM fic I read... and I was baptised. There was no way to fight it and it inspired me to come back to writing after I stopped about five years back. I really love it, I highly encourage you to indulge if you've yet to.

Bradley x Smart Aleck universe, @gretagerwigsmuse You don't need to know how much I love SA and her crotchety old man, Bradley. Jordan's world is so immersive, a real relationship with real ups and down. J gets deep in there and doesn't hide or shy from anything. If you have yet to read i don’t know, blame the air force? what are you doing in this life (it was impossible to pick one)?

One For The History Books, @pisupsala Holy jeepers, if you haven’t read Mila's delicate, poignant and truly adoring words, you've missed the point of this fandom. Just so truly special. I read One for The History Books upon completion and binged it like a novel, it feels like home for me.

What's in a Name?, @sometimesanalice Alexa's one of the most talented writers. Her reader and Bradley's world makes you so delirious/high, I just love it so damn much (and Alexa). Please go read What’s in a Name?

Remember You Even When I Don’t, @beyondthesefourwalls Alli's Forgetful Boy in Remember You Even When I Don’t... Oh my God, she knows I go a bit bonkers for it and had to deal with a lot of squee’s and keyboard smashes in both reblogs and messages. Sorry, darling heart.

White Christmas, @bradshawsbitch Alex's work is a constant re-read for me, and I have begged for a follow-up series of potential pilot or airline host reader and Bradley. The first few paragraphs of white christmas is like I'm sitting right there, in between reader and Bradley, the smartass pilot.

Creator's Own

It’s Only My Heart (Save Yourself) I think there is a misconception that I only write one series ha! But this fic is my first love. I adore writing about Bradley Bradshaw in love and the world's most perfect partner, but I also love writing about him with all his faults and spiralling on his wedding day.

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @ereardon @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12 @malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[sorchathered]

My Forever Valentine- Bradley Bradshaw x reader

A/N- happy belated valentines my angels! This is just a little something I’ve been working on for @roosterforme, hope you all love it!

Pairing- Bradley Bradshaw x female reader

Warnings- a little angst, a little smut, language.

“Honestly I never thought we’d get here. No really, anyone who knows Bradley knows he isn’t the Casanova he likes to think he is. How you roped her into marrying your dumb ass is a miracle in my book. I love you both and I’m so glad you are taking over my job of keeping him alive; good luck girl it’s a tough gig!”

Everyone is nearly in tears from laughter as Bradley rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a chuckle. Choosing Natasha Trace to be his best (wo)man was a no-brainer until he realized she was going to get to give a speech, or as she called it “her roasting of the chicken boy”. Honestly he thought she’d be more ruthless but blessedly she had been kind because it was after all his wedding day. She wasn’t wrong though; it really was a miracle he’d managed to not only find you but also convince you he was the man you should spend the rest of your life with. He’d been full of anger for years over Mav pulling his papers, despite the fact that he’d made it in the navy and been incredibly successful in his career. You’d seen right through his carefree aloha persona, broke down his walls and finally got him to self reflect and realize that the past wasn’t who he was; he’d made it through hell despite the roadblocks and that was what he should focus on instead. He had been stubborn, trying his damndest to push you away when you pushed him to make amends and heal, but you’d stayed. You’d made him better, made his life have meaning, and now he would spend the rest of his life showing you how much you meant to him and making a beautiful life for you.

He remembered the day he met you vividly. You’d been out at the hard deck with a group of friends, it shouldn’t have been any different than any other night out but when he heard your laugh and saw your face he knew. It was like everything in his life had come into focus and he couldn’t stop himself from getting up mid conversation to cross the bar and talk to you. You’d been watching him too, the easy carefree way he seemed to move through the crowd was mesmerizing and the two of you had hit it off like a house on fire. You both fell in love hard and fast, but it hadn’t been without its struggles. Bradley’s line of work was extremely taxing, gone for weeks- sometimes months a time with little to no contact. You’d been lonely but he’d been worth every minute apart, and when he made it back to you after a particularly difficult mission a misunderstanding had nearly torn you both apart.

-6 months ago-

It had been a non-stop carousel of tag chasers from the minute he’d entered his beloved bar, the squad had demanded they throw him a welcome home party for the ages but you’d never thought it would be a wall to wall frat party. Women staring for a little too long, buying him drinks, at one point some girl actually tried to kiss him! Bradley had been polite as always, sending all of them packing and letting them know he was taken, but by the time he’d sat himself at the piano to sing he had gathered himself quite a fan club of single girls, and you didn’t have the patience to look at it anymore. Especially when one of those girls was his ex, she just never quite seemed to understand the word no, and forget about the notion that he had moved on; she didn’t believe for one second that anyone would turn his head from her and despite being the one that left him she just wouldn’t let an opportunity pass to get him back out of her grasp. You knew his heart, and that he had professed that you were his future, but it wasn’t enough. Not when these girls didn’t seem to get his polite hints and kept coming back for more. You knew he liked the attention and that was the worst part; he could tell you all day long that he wanted a family with you but when you took a backseat to his fan club you couldn’t help but convince yourself that he was all talk and nothing more.

“Baby, come on you know it’s not like that! I don’t want anyone but you! Just come back inside, we’ll play some pool with Phoenix and Coyote and then we can head home, just us. I don’t want you going home by yourself.” He pouted and tried to pull you close and damn it you almost let him, but the gnawing feeling of inadequacy wouldn’t let you give in.

You nearly walked away that night, but he wouldn’t have it. If he was going to lose you it wouldn’t be over some stupid girl in a bar, the two of you were meant to be and he was ready to put his heart on the line. He grabbed your hand and pulled you into his arms, you wiggled in his hold but he didn’t budge; tilting your chin up to look at him as he leaned in close to place a searing kiss to your lips. He felt your body go lax in his arms, sighing into his mouth as he ran his tongue along the seam of your lips. The two of you stayed like that for a while, locked in an embrace as he kissed you breathless, you were sure this was the kind of kiss that caused women to swoon in old movies, drunk on the feeling of his body pressed to yours making you weak in the knees. When he finally pulled away from you a whine breached your throat and he chuckled as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“I want you to hear me when I say this sweetheart, and really take it to heart ok? There’s nothing I want more in this world than you. Not flying, not another woman, not a single thing could matter more to me than you. You’re my first thought when I open my eyes and every night I’m honored to be the one to hold you when you finally find rest. I will always choose you, and if I’ve ever made you question that I will do anything to make it right. I want you forever. I want to have a house full of feral children that look like you that I coach softball for on the weekends, I want to take care of you when you’re sick and think you’re gross, I want to sit on our porch 50 years from now and watch the sun go down on a perfect life we’ve made, hell baby I want to pass first because I don’t know that I could go on another day if you weren’t here. That’s how much you mean to me, and if you’ll say yes I’ll love you until the day I die.”

You were fully ugly crying in his arms as he pulled a beautiful ring and slid it on your finger, nodding furiously before you pulled his face to yours.

Now in the fading sunset he watched you dancing along to the band, the quiet beach wedding had been everything you both dreamed it would be, surrounded by loved ones and Bradley can’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. You were everything he’d ever dreamed up but somehow better, the figment in his mind could never come close to the real thing. His hands itched to hold you, need flooding his senses as he crossed the makeshift dance floor to sweep you into his embrace. You grinned up at him and he melted a little more inside, he peppered your face with kisses as your laughter rang out against the crashing of the waves. “I need to monopolize the bride for a little while, think you could find a way for us to escape for a bit?” He whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but laugh until you felt him pressing against the satiny fabric of your gown. He swallowed the moan that escapes your lips, it was entirely indecent the way you two were pressed together in this public of a setting but he couldn’t bring himself to care. You were his wife, his wife. Surely he could be excused for his behavior just this once right? He turned you in his arms and began guiding you towards the beloved bar where the two of you first met. Penny was bringing out more champagne as you burst in the door, a chuckle and shake of her head as the two of you nearly collided with her. “No breaking anything in my bar, I’ll keep everyone out of your hair for a few minutes.” Bradley nodded with wide eyes as you erupted in laughter, ushering you towards the stock room with a playful slap to your ass as you tried to catch your breath between giggle fits.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He said as he placed you on top of the massive deep freeze in the corner of the stock room, mascara was smudging the corners of your eyes from the tears brought on by your glee at getting caught, eyes shining with anticipation at what was to come. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in his pants until we made it to the honeymoon suite Mr. Bradshaw” he didn’t deny it, he just couldn’t help himself with how beautiful you looked, it would be a crime to wait 2 more hours before he could fuck his wife.

“You know, you’re my wife now. Mrs. Bradshaw.” He was running his lips and mustache along your cleavage, the sensation sent a shiver up your spine, along with his declaration. “Oh god- we really are married now aren’t we?” You panted as he hiked your dress up above your thighs, running a long finger up the seam of your barely there underwear, reveling in the look on your face as you sucked in a sharp gasp. He couldn’t help but kiss you, licking into your mouth as he continued to rub circles against your covered clit. You were trembling in his hold, whining and bucking into his hand and he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Tease. Two could play that game. Sliding your palms down his shirt jacket you made quick work of unbuttoning his dress pants, slipping your hand down into his briefs to grasp his cock. He hissed into the open air, knowing you had the upper hand now.

“Thought you said you needed to fuck me Bradley? We don’t have all night, give it to me baby boy.” He couldn’t push his clothes off fast enough, sliding your underwear to the side as he slammed into you mercilessly. Sweet saccharine moans fell from your lips and he brought you to your high, your nails clawing at his back as he sucked a dark mark behind your ear. It didn’t take much more for you both to topple over the edge, a mess of sweaty limbs tangled together as you reached euphoria. Giggles and soft kisses followed as you tried to piece each others outfits back together, startling at a loud knock rapping the old wooden door.

“Ok sluts, you can make a baby another time! Everyone is looking for the happy couple and we know what y’all are getting up to! Wrap it up and come join the party!” Natasha cackles as she hears you two shuffling behind the door, hastily stepping out with tousled hair and kiss swollen lips. “Can you blame me Phoenix? She’s perfection.” Bradley says with a laugh as you all step back out into the party, a roar of cheers and whoops echoing out as you do. This was just the beginning of a lifetime of memories, and Bradley couldn’t wait to spend them all with you.

Tagging- @roosterforme @attapullman @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @ryebecca @mynameismckenziemae @heavenssins @tenderclio @sio-ina-bottle @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @trickphotography2 @sometimesanalice @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @saltsicklover @kissmecaitie @callsigns-haze

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Remind Me - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw is one hell of an aviator. He's one of the best at what he does. You only wish the same could be said of his performance as your husband.

A/N: this is my first real attempt at angst but I ended up making it smutty and fluffy as well so there's that. I was inspired and got a little carried away. Inspired by Remind Me by Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: angst, allusions to cheating, allusions to divorce, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, Bradley being an unattentive husband bc he's clueless, fluffy ending.

word count: 4.6k

"Been so long that you'd forget, the way I used to kiss your neck Remind me, remind me So on fire, so in love, way back when we couldn't get enough Remind me, remind me"

You pulled into the driveway of your beachfront home, the salty Californian breeze encompassing you as you turned the key in the front door, a bag of groceries nestled on your hip as you pushed the door open. A deafening silence came over you as you walked through the entryway, and you noticed that your husband, Bradley, was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t unusual for Bradley to fall asleep in front of the tv on a Sunday afternoon, the drone of sports commentary providing a backdrop to his nap, a neglected bottle of beer warming on the coffee table, condensation tracing its descent down the amber glass. However, today, the usual harmonic sounds of Sportscenter and Bradley's gentle snores was conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie quiet that settled around you like a heavy blanket, an empty couch, and a note on your kitchen counter - Bradley’s idea of conveying information that wasn’t life or death - scribbled in his distinct, masculine penmanship. 

“Hey beautiful, be back soon, out for golf and beers with the boys - B.” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his predictable escapades, a mixture of annoyance and resignation washing over you. You let out a long huff as you set the groceries down on the counter, the rustle of paper bags echoing in the stillness of the kitchen. As you meticulously organized the contents into the fridge and pantry, your gaze fell upon the neglected stack of dirty dishes occupying the sink. Their number seemed to have multiplied since the previous night, despite Bradley’s assurances that he would take care of them. You had even reminded him earlier that morning, amidst sips of your morning coffee, only to receive a distracted hum and a vague nod as he scrolled through his phone, his attention elsewhere. This wasn’t anything new for you - Bradley often had a single tracked mind, unable to focus his attention on more than one thing at a time when he wasn’t in the cockpit of a plane, but lately, it felt like every conversation you tried to invoke was one-sided, with Bradley giving little more than a half-hearted “mhmm” in response, regardless of the topic.

As you closed the fridge, you noticed that your dry-erase calendar had a new date encircled in pink, with Bradley’s unmistakeable writing on display in the center. 

“Mission: 3 wks?” 

“Of course you have another fucking mission,” you grumbled to yourself, shaking your head.

The realization hit you like a freight train, slamming into your heart with a pang of unfairness. Bradley's profession demanded his constant departure and return, but the frequency of his missions seemed almost cruel, especially considering the fleeting moments of bliss you shared during his brief stints at home. Six weeks had barely passed since his last return, yet it felt as if his presence was unchanged from the way it had been when he was gone.

Between rigorous training sessions and endless briefings, Bradley sought solace in the camaraderie of his buddies – Jake, Reuben, and Mickey – the trio of bachelors who seemed to relish in their freedom. Their escapades ranged from impromptu drinks to leisurely rounds at the driving range, filled with a sense of masculinity and adventure that Bradley found himself longing to be a part of. Approaching the dreaded milestone of forty, he yearned for the carefree attitude he held in his youth, reminiscing about the exhilarating escapades of his twenties and earlier thirties - ending right around 36 years old when he met you.

In a bid to reclaim some form of that lost spontaneity, Bradley had tentatively ventured into his friends realm, seeking companionship in their revelries. Initially relegated to the role of designated driver, his latent talent for piano and penchant for serenading transformed him into the life of the party. What started as a sporadic outing soon morphed into a monthly ritual, then gradually escalated into a seemingly incessant cycle where every day not spent on base was dedicated to partying it up with "the boys"

As you sank into the welcoming embrace of the couch, enveloped by its plush cushions, a sense of desolation washed over you like a tidal wave. Clutching a pint-sized tub of ice cream to your chest, you sought solace in the flickering glow of the television, scanning through channels in a futile attempt to distract yourself from the gnawing ache within until Bradley came home. Settling on a marathon of romantic comedies on one of the dozens of channels that seem to play nothing but movies and reruns of old sitcoms, you blinked back tears as you watched the romance unfold on tv, all while feeling like your own was slowly dying.

It was three and a half hours later when Bradley finally came clattering through the door, a couple beers deep. You heard him clumsily kick his deck shoes off at the door, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood flooring as he walked down the hall with heavy steps. You did your best to ignore him, wanting to make it clear that you were upset, but not having the fight in you after three and a half hours of crying into a carton of chocolate peanut butter ice cream over Katherine Heigl and James Marsden and Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas and their romantic gestures, tender embraces and declarations of love and happily ever afters. You fixed your eyes on the tv as you caught sight of Bradley from the corner of your eye, his fluorescent pink golf shirt almost impossible to ignore. 

As Bradley's voice echoed through the living room, infused with a hint of playful banter, you felt a pang of resignation tugging at your heartstrings. His honeyed drawl, his sun-kissed glow and his almost blonde highlights cascading through his curls, created a striking contrast against the solemnity that enveloped the room. With sunglasses perched atop his head like a crown, Bradley sauntered into view, his caramel-colored eyes scanning the scene before him with a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Hey honey! When’d you get home? You watchin’ one of those chick flicks?”, he spoke with a playful tone, an underlying hint of apprehension lingering in the air. 

Ignoring his inquiry, you remained in your silence, your gaze fixed upon the flickering images on the television screen. Bradley's brow furrowed, the lines etching across his forehead as he searched for a clue amidst the sea of your emotions.

“Aw, I don’t mean chick flick in a bad way, baby, I’m just teasin’”, he continued, his voice laced with a soft plea for understanding. “Some of them aren’t so bad, you know, I like a couple of ‘em.” 

When he was once again met with silence, Bradley took a couple of steps closer to where you lay on the couch, moving his tall, six-foot-three, athletic frame into your line of view. You continued to focus on the tv, finding it nearly impossible to ignore the neon hue of Bradley’s polo shirt now, noticing how he’d paired it with a basic pair of khaki shorts and his Ray-Ban aviators that he never left home without. He knit his brows together as he watched you, his eyes wafting over to the now empty ice cream tub with a single spoon sitting inside, resting on the coffee table. He hummed softly - something he often did when he was trying to think, as a confused look started forming on his face.

“Baby, come on, what’s bothering ya?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, “Did I do somethin’? ‘Cause if I did, I’m sorry for whatever it is.”

“You aren’t,” you finally responded, not breaking eye contact with Ryan Gosling as he appeared on the tv. 

“I’m not what, babe?”

“Sorry. You’re not sorry. You never are sorry.”

“Honey, I’m not following ya.”

You huffed and shook your head as you sat up on the couch, wiping your eyes as you felt the hot tears stinging them once again as they threatened to make a return. A raw aching feeling built up within you as you took a deep breath, preparing to have the conversation you’d been dreading for who-knows-how-long. You looked down at your wedding band for a moment, the sight of it nearly enough to trigger painful sobs as you braced yourself for what was about to transpire between you and your husband.

“You’re not sorry. You’re never home because you choose to never be home. You’re not sorry for it. It’s like you don’t want to be around me, Bradley,” you started slowly, shaking your head as the tears began to fall.

“Baby, hang on-” Bradley begins before you cut him off. 

“Look, Bradley, if you’re unhappy-”

“Unhappy? Baby, no, I could never be unhappy with you, what are you talking about?” Bradley cooed, kneeling down beside the couch as he brushed your hair behind your ear in a tender gesture to ermphasize his point.

“Are you seeing other women when you go out with the guys?” You say bluntly, giving Bradley a stare that practically burns right through him.

“What?! Honey, I think you’re getting the wrong idea here.”

“It’s really not that far-fetched, Bradley. You’re always wanting to go out with your only single friends, you constantly go out to play wingman with them at bars to help them get laid, then when you’re home, you never listen to me, it’s like I may as well be talking to myself most of the time. I only seem to see you if you’re hungry or asleep and that’s only because you can’t boil water to save your life and our bed is the only one in the house that always has clean sheets on it.”

“Babe, I don’t know who the fuck you think you married-” Bradley protested.

“Oh, really? Mr. “Didn’t-get-married-until-he-was-38-because-he-liked-picking-up-girls-in-bars-better? Wasn’t it because that was more convenient for you? Because then you’d never have a “little lady back home to worry about” whenever you went away?”

“That was before I met you, the minute I met you, I stopped wanting to do any of that bullshit. Our first date, I knew I wanted to marry you, honey.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s how you feel now, does it?! I mean, Christ’s sake, Bradley, when was the last time you even kissed me?! Let alone had sex with me, for fuck’s sake. I thought you wanted to try having kids soon once you got your promotion settled,” you said as your voice cracked, shaking your head. 

“Honey, please,” Bradley began pleading, shaking his head. 

You abruptly stood up from the couch, walking away from him and heading towards the kitchen. You opened the fridge, conveniently using the door to block Bradley from your sight, your anger towards him boiling towards the edge now. You grabbed yourself a drink and cracked the top off with the bottle opener, slamming the fridge door shut. Bradley held his hands up in defense as he looked at you, an expression of complete astoundment on his face.

“Baby, I may not be the smartest man out there, but I’m not unfaithful, you know that. I know you know that deep down.” 

“Bradley, I don’t know what I know anymore. I used to know that you loved me too, but that doesn’t seem to hold true.”

“What are you talking about?! Honey, you know that I love you.”

“Do I?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Sweetheart, I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. I know showing it isn’t my strong suit - I never got to see much of an example other than pictures of my folks, but I know damn well that I look at you the same way my dad looked at my mom. And I know that I’ve never, in the four years since we started dating, ever, as much as entertained the idea of being with another woman. I married you. Remember? You were there. Better or worse, sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, all that?”

“It’s pretty easy to vow to love someone for better or for worse when you’re never fucking around, isn’t it, Bradley?!”

“Well forgive me for fighting for our fucking country, Honey. What, you want me to just walk away from my duty?”

“Your country and your boys come before your wife, do you not see how fucked up that is?”

“You come first, always. I work as hard as I do at work for you. I try to work my ass off to get promotions and be leader on missions so I can make sure you’re taken care of. So that if anything ever happened to me, you’d be set, you’d never have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t want that! I want you. You could pump gas for a living or be a lifeguard on the beach for all I fucking care. All I know is, the man I married isn’t here anymore, and I don’t know where he went or why.”

Bradley shook his head angrily and scoffed. His face began to turn red as he narrowed his eyes, beginning to talk with his hands. 

“I’m the same fucking guy! Babe, is this seriously because I went golfing this afternoon?”

“No, Bradley, it’s because you’ve been home for six weeks and you haven’t as much as kissed me since you got home off the last mission, and I just saw that you put a new three week one on the calendar. You leave in 10 days and you didn’t even tell me! What, were you just going to fuck off and go when it came and not say a word?”

An awkward hush fell over the two of you, echoing throughout the house. Bradley looked to his feet, remaining quiet as he shook his head. He sighed loudly and pressed his hand to his forehead before looking up at you again. 

“Honey, believe me, I only found out this morning, I was going to tell you…but,” He frowns as he realizes why he didn’t tell you. “But then Jake called, and I wanted to blow off steam about it, so I agreed to hit a few holes with him. But, Baby, I swear to you, I am the exact same Lieutenant Bradshaw who asked you out on a date four years ago. Remember? I almost missed a briefing just to talk to you. Nearly got my ass in trouble for it, but you were worth every second.”

You looked up at Bradley, sinking your top teeth into your bottom lip as you shook your head, almost in disbelief as you remembered how you and Bradley had met. 

You were visiting Coronado for the day, your first trip over the San Diego Bay since moving to the city from Colorado Springs. The sun had been shining as you strolled through the picturesque town on the Pacific coast. Bradley had been walking up to one of the dozens of restaurants that scattered the main strip for lunch with a couple of his comrades, dressed in his khaki uniform as he waited in line for his food, his tanned skin and broad shoulders catching your eye almost immediately. He flashed a smile at you, and in that moment, you’d managed to forget your own name, completely entranced by the man in front of you. 

From there, Bradley had asked you to sit with him for lunch, leaving his friends behind at a nearby picnic table. The two of you had so much fun simply talking that he didn’t realize the time, or that his friends had already left, and that he had to be back on base for a briefing in 10 minutes. He’d quickly exchanged numbers with you and practically sprinted back to his car - a 1972 Ford Bronco in pristine condition, something you remembered about him immediately, a detail you’d found yourself looking for on your outings in the downtown core of San Diego, in case he’d made the trip to your side of the bridge for some reason. 

A week later you were on a second date, and from there, your relationship became official soon after, with a marriage proposal happening on your first anniversary when Bradley arrived home from a mission. He saw you waiting for him on base, standing there in a pale blue sundress, looking even more beautiful than he’d remembered when he left a few weeks prior. He ran up to you, picking you up and swirling you around as he held you close, kissing you more passionately than he’d ever done before. No sooner than he put you back down, he dropped to one knee and asked you to be his wife, and you said yes, without an ounce of hesitation. 

“Bradley,” you sighed sadly, shaking your head as you looked up at him. 

“Honey, I swear to you, from the day that I asked you to sit down for lunch with me, I have never even looked at another woman. All I ever do for the guys when we go out is offer to talk to a girl on Jake’s behalf after he fucks it up and I have to go explain that his brain stopped maturing once he hit about age 15 when it comes to women. He thinks with his dick sometimes and gets his dumbass in trouble. I just go smooth it over so he doesn’t get a kick to the nuts or arrested for something stupid, like fighting some girl’s boyfriend.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, oh my God, you really thought I was cheating on you? What would any other woman have that you don’t? I’m just there babysitting Jake, and, I usually get a free beer and a plate of Buffalo wings out of the deal.”

“You...you do it for chicken wings?”

“I mean, I do it to hang out with my friends in situations where we’re not planning a mission or flying like our asses depend on it because we might not make it home otherwise.”

You nod your head slowly as everything suddenly starts making sense. It wasn’t that Bradley didn’t want to be with you, it was that he wanted some sense of normalcy with his friends, instead of what had become normal for them at work. You could appreciate it, even if Bradley was going about things the wrong way. 

“Can I show you something?” He said softly, cautiously reaching out to take you by the hand as you nodded your head.

Bradley pulled you in close to his body, wrapping you up in his strong arms and holding you in a passionate embrace as he kissed you with everything he had in him. His lips hungrily kissed at yours, his tongue flitting out to trace your bottom lip as you parted your mouth just so to allow him access. A soft, breathy moan escaped from your throat as you kissed Bradley, the passion overtaking you as he gently pulled away, still hovering above your mouth.

“I want to remind you how much I love you.”

Without another word, Bradley hoisted you up onto the counter, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you towards him. He knelt down in front of you, gently tapping your inner thigh with his hand as you parted your legs for him. Bradley pulled your comfy shorts down off your waist, dragging them down your legs before dropping them to the floor. He ducked his head down between your thighs as his hands rested on you, pulling you ever so slightly in towards him. His tongue licked a long, slow trail up your slit, eliciting a loud, breathy gasp from your lips. 

Bradley’s tongue began to work at you, licking and sucking at your sensitive clit as you tilted your head back. Your fingers raked their way into his curls, tugging gently on them as you guided his head in to your center, a whine leaving your lips as you felt him encircling it with his tongue, his touch delicate, yet passionate, as if he was making this his life’s work. You felt his tongue tracing shapes on you - letters, almost, and Bradley’s muffled voice had a tone of seduction to it as he spoke, his lips vibrating against your swollen, puffy cunt, sending a whole new sensation through you.

“Bradley!” You cried out, throwing your head forward to watch what he was doing, “I-I’m getting close, honey.”

Bradley looked up at you from under hooded lids as he watched your facial expressions, loving how your body was reacting to his touch. There was a newfound look of determination in his eyes as he slipped two of his long, slender fingers inside of you without breaking contact with his mouth. The feeling of his fingertips pressing into your sweet spot and his combination of licking and sucking at your clit like a man starved was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs began to quiver as you felt yourself approach your climax, screaming out Bradley’s name, making it the only sound that could be heard echoing through your empty house.

“Gonna explain what the fuck that new technique of yours is?” You panted as you came down from your euphoria, your head spinning as you stared at Bradley, who was wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sporting a look of pure pride.

“My wedding vows,” He shrugged, as if this was the most obvious explanation in the world.

“Your vows? You recited your vows?”

“Sure did, babygirl. Had to show you I remembered them somehow, figured that was better than me reciting them while bending you over the countertop. I’m not done convincing you just yet though.” 

He smirked, taking you by the hand as he helped you down off the counter. Bradley turned you around, your back facing him as he placed his firm, strong hand on you, guiding you as you bent over and rested your hands on the cold marble surface in front of you. You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you realized your husband’s methods of making it up to you - he was never great with words, spoken apologies usually ended up coming out wrong, words getting tangled and twisted on his tongue, unable to string together a coherent sentence that held any meaning. However, what Bradley lacked in his communication, he made up for with his actions, doing whatever grandiose measure he could to make it up to you. 

Bradley’s broad hand stroked your back, running down to your ass as he gave it a playful squeeze. He let out a low groan as he undid his golf shorts, hurriedly kicking them off behind him. Bradley gave his cock a few quick strokes with his hand before running his tip along your dripping wet slit to tease you.

“Ready for me, Honey?” He purred, grinning as he watched you tense up as you felt him brush against your clit.

“Bradley, so help me, if you don’t stop teasing me-” your sentence was cut off abruptly as you felt Bradley buck his hips forward, pushing his length into your entrance. 

You whined as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, feeling full as he bottomed out inside of you, Bradley leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder as he gave you time to adjust. Bradley stood himself upright, lining his hips up with yours as he pulled back before giving a hard thrust forwards. He began pumping himself in and out of you, snapping his hips into a rhythm as he held your hips in place with his hands. Each thrust was sharp and calculated, hitting all the right places in perfect timing. There was one thing your husband prided himself on more than anything, and that was how well he made love to his wife. 

“That’s it, Honey, you look so pretty taking my cock like this,” Bradley hummed, his voice sultry and smooth as he praised you.

“Bradley, harder.” You commanded, whining as you felt an aching need for him to let you cum. 

Bradley began thrusting deeper into you, taking less care to be gentle with each movement. You felt your knees buckling with pleasure as he thrusted, and the sounds coming from both you and Bradley were beyond obscene, but in the best possible way. 

“Baby, I’m getting close,” He breathed, tilting his head back and panting. “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No!” You responded, clenching your thighs around him, in a more zealous response than you intended. “Need you, Bradley. I don’t care what happens. I need you.”

You could almost hear the change in tone from Bradley as soon as you spoke. Except, instead of killing the mood, like you’d anticipated, Bradley began fucking himself into you harder than before, almost desperate as he gripped your hips tightly. 

“You want me to fill you up, my pretty girl? Want me to cum in that tight little pussy of yours?” He husked, his body practically giving way to pleasure as he thought about it.

“Mhmm!” was all you could muster out of you as you nodded your head, feeling yourself reach your orgasm again, your walls clenching around him tightly.

“Fuck, Honey, you got it. Anything you want, Babygirl, I’ve got ya.” He babbled as he fell apart inside of you.

You placed your palms flat against the counter to hold yourself steady as Bradley’s thrusts became sloppier, slowing until they reached a gradual stop. He held his positon inside of you for a few moments while he caught his breath, almost too exhausted to move. As he pulled out, you let out a deep sigh, almost aching at the now emptiness in you. 

You finally got air back into your lungs as you stood upright, turning to face him as you leaned your back against the counter. Your gaze fell on Bradley, a blissful look of exhaustion on your face. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his curls now slightly dampened from a mixture of the Californian humidity and the passionately wild sex you’d just had. Bradley gave you a crooked grin as he gently put his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to him. 

“How was that for my apology? Or do you need me to do it again? ‘Cause if you give me like, an hour, I’ll go grab one of those Body whatever drinks Jake always has after a workout and I’ll be good to go for another round,” Bradley chuckled, stroking your hair.

“It was good, you’re forgiven. But,” you paused, grinning up at him as he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’d appreciate it if you spent a little more time with me. Maybe we could catch a ball game together, go for a road trip or something.”

“You know what? That sounds like a great idea. I’ve got tomorrow and the next day off. We could drive up to Malibu or something. Hell, Vegas is only four hours. May as well check that off our bucket list while we still can.”

“While we still can?” You cocked your head to the side, giving him an incredulous look.

“Well, you just begged me not to pull out…and if it’s alright by you, I’d kinda like to see what happens if we kept doing that,” Bradley said with a playful grin, laughing as he stroked your cheek.

“Oh, is that so?” You smirked, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, this road trip will give us four hours and a lot of desert to pull over in. You’ll get lots of chances to see what happens.” 

[beyondthesefourwalls]

And You Will Find Me

Summary: The last thing Bradley expected when he was assigned to the unofficial “singles without a plus one” table at an old friend’s wedding was to meet who he thinks might just be the love of his life. But that’s exactly what happened. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)  (can be read as Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin from RYEWID, but not necessary to read that first)

Word Count: 3.8K 

Warnings: Language, fluff, love at first sight. 

Notes: Written for @roosterforme's ‘80s Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge, and as part of The Forgotten Moments Collection, but can very much be read by itself. Song selection is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. 

The Forgetful Boy and Pumpkin first meeting one shot that I’ve been wanting to write since I referenced it in part three of RYEWID. The fact that I could do it for a challenge for one of my favorite people makes it even more exciting for me.  

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Bradley Bradshaw: Table Four 

He grabbed the gold trimmed cardstock with his name on it, sipping on a glass of bourbon as he made his way into the reception hall. It didn’t take long to find his placement with the elaborate centerpieces displaying calligraphic numbers. 

There were only two open seats left at the table, which was occupied by a group of people who were all staring down at their phones. He glanced around the rest of the venue, seeing all of the other tables bustling with conversation and laughter. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the awkward silence that seemed to hang over this one in particular. No one seemed to know each other, and it didn’t look like they planned to make any effort to change that. 

He groaned to himself and wondered, not for the first time, why he had thought attending this wedding was a good idea. 

He hadn’t seen Sean in years, and had never even met Lucy. The two had been roommates for two years at UVA and had somewhat kept up with each other over the years, if only barely. They had always joked about how on the off chance either of them got married, they’d make each other's guest list. Bradley had laughed when he got the invite in the mail. He had waited until the last minute to send in the RSVP, but had ultimately decided why not? He wouldn’t know anyone there, and hadn’t managed to find a date in time, but he hadn’t been to Philly in way too long. He’d make a quick weekend out of it and see an old friend.  

He hadn’t realized until he got into town how awkward going to a wedding on his own would be. 

He sat in one of the empty seats, nodding to the guy on his right who forced a smile that looked just as awkward as it felt before turning his attention back to his phone. 

Bradley was glad he had thought to refill his drink before cocktail hour ended. 

He was scrolling through his phone when he saw a flash of orange out of the corner of his eye at the same time the seat next to him was pulled back. 

He glanced up briefly to offer a quick smile to the new arrival and looked back down at his emails, only to do the quickest double take of his life. His breath caught in his throat and he swore his heart stopped, only to start again three times faster. 

Holy hell. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” you asked, and Bradley had to blink a few times before he realized you were talking to him, because your voice was mesmerizing. 

“All yours,” he managed to say. He would have winced at how his voice cracked if he wasn’t trying to remember how to breathe. You offered a warm smile as you gracefully sat down. You were a vision in a long sleeve, burnt orange dress that looked like it would be silky to the touch. When he glanced down, he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stop from groaning when he saw the slit going up the side and the nude heels on your feet. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you were sitting beside him fiddling awkwardly with your place card as he stared at you.

“I’m Bradley,” he finally managed to introduce himself, extending a hand out. You looked at him in surprise. 

“Oh! Hi.” You took his hand with a soft, gentle grip, your eyes locking onto his as a spark went through his whole body. Your eyes widened a fraction and he wondered if you felt it, too. He almost didn’t catch your name when you said it because he was so distracted by the feeling. “So, bride or groom?” 

“What?” 

You laughed softly, and he worried about going into cardiac arrest at the sound. “Are you here for the bride, or for the groom? I assume since you’re at this table it’s either one or the other and not both.” 

“This table?” 

You glanced around at your other tablemates, still busy with doing everything they could not to make eye contact with anyone else. Then you leaned closer to him, and he couldn’t help but do the same. You whispered to him like you were sharing something salacious. “The singles table. The ones who came alone and who wouldn’t know anyone else, and who they’re kind of surprised RSVP’d ‘yes’ to begin with.” 

Bradley let out a loud laugh, and you giggled right along with him. The sound was like music. It earned you both curious and maybe even annoyed looks from all those at your table. He hadn’t considered that before, but now that he thought about it, you were absolutely right. 

“Groom,” He replied, “College roommates. You?” 

“Bride,” you told him. “Ironically, also college roommates.” 

“Well would you look at that,” Bradley smirked, and he knew the amusement that sparkled in your eye was mirrored in his. 

He was interrupted from saying anything else from the DJ tapping on the microphone to formally start the reception. As the bridal party danced their way into the room to Celine Dion, he kept stealing glances at you. To his pleasure, you were stealing them right back. By the time Sean and Lucy were seated at the front table and the DJ announced that dinner would be served momentarily, Bradley could barely look away. There was a smile on your face that indicated you didn’t mind at all. 

It continued that way through the meal that was eventually placed on the table. You didn’t speak much as you ate, both of you feeling like you were disrupting the other six people spread out on either side. But you kept catching each other’s eyes and smiling before you looked away, and his cheeks were nearly hurting at how big his smile was.

Fuck. 

Bradley barely even knew your name, and he was already down bad. 

You leaned over to him during the speeches that started immediately after dinner, and he caught another whiff of your perfume. He tried his best not to noticeably take a deep breath of the scent. “Do we think the best man is already drunk?” 

“Oh, he absolutely is,” he confirmed. The man in question was laughing hysterically at a joke he just told, already swaying on his feet. “I saw him throwing back an entire flask right before the ceremony.” 

Your nose scrunched up in the most adorable cringe he had ever seen. “Yikes. I don’t really blame him though. The maid of honor is his ex-fiance. I’m pretty sure she left him for groomsman number three, but I can’t confirm.” 

He looked at you with wide, curious eyes. “Did Lucy tell you that?”

“No,” you laughed, mindful of keeping your voice down to not draw any attention to yourselves as the slurred speeches continued. “I drove up last night and then was bored before the ceremony today. Social media is very informative, you know.” 

Bradley choked out a laugh, absolutely amazed at you. “Are you a private investigator or something?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

You picked up your wine glass with a smirk, and you winked at him before you took a sip. “A journalist, actually. But close enough.”  

A journalist. Bradley filed that information away in a new folder in his brain that had your name on it. 

Clapping drew his gaze away from you, and he realized he had completely shut out the rest of the speech. He cleared his throat and joined in, and the two of you watched as the bride and groom did their first dance. It felt like it lasted forever, but that was probably because he was itching for it all to be over so that he could talk to you again. He wanted to know more about you. In fact, he found that he wanted to know everything about you. 

Everyone clapped again when the dance came to an end, and Bradley was turning to you before the DJ even finished announcing the beginning of the party. 

“What are you drinking?” he asked, and he thought the look you gave him was a mix between delighted and amused. Your eyes cut to your mostly empty wine glass where he could very much see exactly what you had been sipping on. He felt heat creep up his cheeks in embarrassment. 

“White wine,” you said anyway. “What are you drinking?”

He fought the grin that was threatening to take over his face. You were keeping him on his toes, and he found he quite liked it. “Bourbon.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m about due for a refill.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. You glanced around the table where the other occupants were back to scrolling through their phones or focusing on anything that wasn’t another human being. He almost laughed at the look on your face when you turned back to him. You grabbed your clutch from the table and the two of you rose out of your seats at the same time without even having to say anything. 

“After you,” he grinned, and your smile made him dizzy. He ordered another whiskey while you got Pinot Grigio. He laughed when you told him you weren’t allowed another glass, because too much white wine apparently made for a very interesting night. He filed that little tidbit away, too. 

With fresh drinks in hand, you turned to walk back to your assigned seating. The lights had dimmed and the music had turned to something upbeat and very cliche, and the majority of the attendees had converged on the dancefloor. You navigated around them carefully. His hand hovered over your lower back, not quite touching, but wanting to. You drew to a stop when you were only a few feet from the table, your head tilted to the side. 

“I hate being seated at these tables,” you muttered. “Always makes me feel like maybe I shouldn’t have come.” 

Bradley had been thinking the same thing until you had sat down beside him and shook his hand. He couldn’t help but flex his fingers as he remembered how his skin had buzzed at your touch. He glanced around the whole venue again, not quite knowing what he was looking for until he caught sight of the patio through the large windows.

“Do you want to ditch and go outside with me?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself. He held his breath when your eyes snapped to his, slightly wide in surprise. But they softened quickly, and you nodded, tucking some of your hair behind your ear with your free hand. 

He held out an arm, and after only a moment of hesitation, you slipped yours into it. He almost felt like he was floating as he guided the two of you toward the open doors. 

The patio was decorated beautifully. It stretched almost the entire length of the building, and twinkle lights lined the ceiling and the pillars holding it up. Smaller tables and furniture were spread out amongst the concrete and the two of you settled into the soft cushions of one of the outdoor coaches. 

It was a mild night, even for early February in Philadelphia, and the heat coming from the fire pit in the middle of the table in front of you was enough for it to be comfortable. You sat in silence for a beat, but it wasn’t awkward. Your fingers danced over the rim of your wine glass and Bradley’s gaze followed as you brought it to your lips. You caught his eye as you swallowed, and he felt the heat creep onto his cheeks at being caught staring at you again. 

He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his own drink to gather himself. “So. A journalist. What do you write about?” 

“The hypocrisy of old men, mostly,” you shrugged, and Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You laughed at his expression. “I cover politics,” you explained. Your joke registered with the context and he chuckled. 

“So just how hypocritical are the old men of Philadelphia?” he asked, and you seemed delighted that he was going along with it. 

“Eh,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Very, I’m sure. But I cover Washington, which is definitely worse. I live in DC.” 

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat. Excited disbelief had his eyes widening. There was no way. In the back of his mind he had admittedly already been thinking of how often he could feasibly make the drive from Andrews to Philly, because he knew he had to see you again. Tonight couldn’t be the only time, not with how he was feeling and how he was pretty sure you were, too. 

“Small world,” he finally managed, trying to keep his voice steady despite his racing heart, and now your eyes were widening back. The happiness in them was hard to miss, and, holy shit, you were excited about this. He felt the urge to pinch himself. 

“You live in DC?”

“I’m at Naval Air Facility Washington doing extended training at Joint Base Andrews,” he told you, still in a bit of disbelief, but feeling giddy. 

“Ah. Navy man, huh?” 

It took a moment for Bradley to realize his cheeks were red again. He doesn’t think anyone has ever made him blush before, or at least not as many times as you had tonight already. 

“Naval Aviator,” he elaborated. 

You smiled, and it felt like the whole world disappeared except for the two of you as you held out your glass. He raised his to tap against it in cheers. “Here’s to small worlds, then.” 

“And to college roommates,” he added, and your laugh took his breath away. 

The two of you sat there with your drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed effortlessly, talking about everything and anything. He found himself hanging onto your every word. He couldn't help but be drawn in by every single thing about you. He learned that you grew up here in Philadelphia and, like him, you were an only child. You got your undergrad in journalism and then a masters in political science and moved to DC before the ink was even dry. You were a little bit addicted to coffee and true crime podcasts, and you were a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan. He told you about growing up in Virginia and being in the Navy, and about his love of the 80s and playing piano. 

But you talked about more than just the surface level stuff, too. As the occasional sound of laughter drifted outside from the dancefloor and the fire pit glowed in front of you, you told him how sometimes, you wondered if you were really cut out for your career, because the nature of what you had to cover drove you absolutely crazy, and you felt like people focused on the wrong things. You tended to have a self-imposed terrible work/life balance and your anxiety crept up on you because you’d ignore it for too long. You weren’t close with your parents, and your bucket list was full of things you were scared you’d never be able to do. 

In return, he let you in on the reason he wanted to join the Navy in the first place, and growing up with a single mother and what it was like when she got sick. He confided how he had a bad habit of hesitating both in and out of the air, and how he didn’t really have any connections or relationships outside of the Navy that went more than just skin deep or a memory of what used to be. 

He shared more with you than he had with anyone else, and somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was like he had always known you, or at least like he was meant to now. 

You were so caught up in each other that neither of you realized just how much time had passed. Before you knew it, the music from inside was starting to soften and the lights were turned back on, and the servers came outside to start collecting empty glasses and trash. 

“Oh wow,” you breathed in surprise, “We missed the whole reception.” 

You stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then at the same time, you burst into laughter. 

“Can I walk you back to your hotel?” he asked you once you had calmed down. You had mentioned how you were staying just a few blocks away, and the thought of you walking alone or getting a car this late at night didn’t sit right with him. It was strange, how he already felt the urge to protect and care for you. 

Plus, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. 

“I’d like that,” you said softly, much to his relief. 

The bride and groom were inside wishing everyone goodbye, and you both took a moment to speak to your respective reasonings for being there. Neither of you lingered for long, and the balmy night air greeted you again when you exited the building after collecting your coats. 

You didn’t hesitate to link your arm with his when he held it out this time. He felt warm all over with you this close to him. Despite the late hour, the city was still alive with people out and about and laughter and conversation spilling out onto the sidewalk from every business you passed. He held onto you a little tighter when you walked by some decidedly way too drunk people, but you didn’t seem to mind. You kept the conversation going just as easily as it was when you were sitting on the patio, swapping embarrassing stories from your college days. You were walking through the park, nearly at your hotel, and it was when you mentioned something about dancing on a table at a frat party after too many shots of Fireball that he came to an alarming realization. He stopped so abruptly that you were slightly yanked back into his body, and you looked at him in concern. Before you could ask what was wrong, he was blurting the words out. 

“I never asked you to dance.” 

You gave him a confused look and then snorted in amusement. “I suppose you didn’t.” 

“Oh my god,” he groaned, tilting his head back and slapping his palm to his forehead. “I had the perfect opportunity to dance with you and I never asked.” 

You were still laughing, your feelings clearly not hurt at his lack of consideration. But he was already digging his phone out of his pocket and swiping open his music app. He held it out in your direction. “Pick a song,” he told you. 

“What?” you laughed. “Bradley!” 

“I’m serious! Pick a song.” 

He pushed his phone a little closer, and with an amused look, you finally took it. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before you started typing, and then the soft sounds of Time After Time were floating in the air. 

“You said you loved the 80s,” you said almost shyly. But Bradley smiled, taking the phone back and slipping it into his jacket pocket. The music was muffled now, but you could both still hear it. 

“It’s perfect,” he told you. He held out a hand for you to take, and once you slipped your palm into his, he pulled you close. You rested your head on his shoulder as you began to sway. The night was quiet and serene as you danced, and he didn’t know what he did for his night to turn out this way, but he was so glad that it did. 

When the song came to an end, you stopped moving, but didn’t separate. You picked your head up and looked at him, your eyes locking together. You didn’t say anything at first, but eventually, you sighed and a soft, reluctant smile tugged at your lips. 

“I should probably get back,” you whispered.

“Are you sure?” he asked, desperate to stay in your presence for as long as possible. You had entered his life so unexpectedly, and he was wishing with everything in him that you wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. “You aren’t going to turn into a pumpkin once the clock strikes midnight, right?” 

You shook your head at his joke, giving him a playful wink in return. “I don’t know. This does feel a bit like a fairytale.” 

Your words made him grow a little more serious, and he swallowed thickly as a charged energy seemed to settle over both of you. You bit your lip as you stared, your gaze wide and saying a million things at once. You had the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. He wanted to look at them forever. 

"You know," he said, his voice lower now, like he was afraid to disrupt the moment by being too loud. He brought a hand up to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.  “This is not how I anticipated my night going.” 

The air between you crackled with unspoken words, his hand still lingering near your cheek. Then, in a move that felt natural and inevitable, he leaned in, and you met him halfway. Your lips touched softly, a spark of electricity passing between you. It was a kiss filled with promise, a taste of what could be. It was as if time stood still, the world around you fading away until it was just the two of you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless. Bradley looked at you with a mixture of desire and genuine affection that should have scared him, but it didn’t. 

"Wow," you whispered, your lips curving into a shy smile. He knew exactly what you were feeling with that one word, because he felt it too.

He brushed his nose against yours, breathing you in. “Tell me I can see you again when we get back to DC,” he begged. 

You let your hand rest against his chest, and he was sure you could feel the pounding of his heart. “I was hoping so,” you said, and he breathed out a happy laugh of relief before kissing you again.  

Standing there under the soft glow of the lampposts, Bradley thought he might love you already. 

-----------

Masterlist

Notes: I hope y'all loved this one as much as I did! I miss these two so much.

Special thanks to Mak and Em for all of their help, and to Mak for the banner!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl @greatszu

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

[beyondthesefourwalls]

🧡

6. Are there any fics from others that you reread all the time?

a couple off the dome:

VV by @roosterbruiser (the way millie writes hangster love triangles… ITS MY DRUG ALRIGHT)

Remember You Even When I Don’t by @beyondthesefourwalls (specifically chapter 5 when rooster comes home and reader asks Rooster to tell her that he loves her… OUCHIE IT HURT SO GOOD)

TiP by @sunlightmurdock (y’all know I like the drama and TiP Rooster holds a special place in my heart #toxicking)

there’s more i just can’t think of them rn!!

writer asks!

[romcomxdd]

i live for angsty teenage bradley so here’s a head canon type thing

bradley bradshaw grew up thinking of his father as a larger than life figure.

sure he had a few memories here and there, but not enough to really feel like he knew his dad

mav and his mum were always talking about what a good guy nick was, how he loved his son so much, and was perfect in every way. he had never once heard a flaw about the man, bradley wanted to hear things that made his father…human

eventually bradley grew sick of hearing how much of a ‘stand up guy’ he was, nick had become sort of a standard for bradley to live up to. it was always ‘oh you look just like your father’ this or ‘your dad would have loved to help you’ that

he never told anyone, but he hand begun to resent his father, always struggling to live up to this reputation. and he hated himself for it. everyone loved his dad, why couldn’t he?

until one day after his piano recital at the end of year school showcase concert, carole came up to him, gushing about how his father would be so proud, how nick would have loved his performance, and bradley just snapped. he blew up at his mum, and when mav tried to intervene he shouted at him too, voicing all these pent up emotions.

pete and carole just stood there, in shock, as the teenage boy broke down, his cheeks flushed as he shouted at the two.

he was silent the entire ride home.

the second they pulled into the driveway, bradley stomped up the stairs to his room and pulled himself under the covers. tears streamed down his cheeks as he dreaded heading downstairs the next morning.

about an hour later, mav knocked on his door. a muffled ‘go away’ as all he got in response. pete just sighed and pushed open the door, only to be met with a pillow to the face.

‘bradley, cmon’ the pilot moved across the room and sat slowly on the edge of the teens bed.

‘fuck off mav’

pete didn’t respond for a few minutes, he just sat there, contemplating his next words.

‘did i ever tell you that your father stunk?’

bradley was silent, but he peaked out of the covers, his dark eyes staring at mav.

‘it was horrible, not all the time, but he’d forget to take a shower every now and then and stink out the whole barracks’ mav shook his head, staring at his hands.

bradley giggled, slowly emerging from the covers.

‘or his inability to take things seriously, even when it was dangerous to do so.’

‘really?’

‘yeah- it was a problem.’ mav let out a breathy laugh. ‘one time we were flying a mission, and one of the seats made a sound that was suspiciously fart like. and your dad just couldn’t stop laughing. it was fine until an enemy attack pilot managed to sneak up underneath us. fuck that was a close call, almost lost our wings that night’ mav shook his head slowly, and when he glanced up again, bradley was positively beaming. his eyes shone like stars, and mav smiled weakly at the sight.

‘look kid, i’m sorry we made you feel like you had to live up to your dad. just being you is enough, i promise. okay?’

bradley nodded, his pillow clutched close to his chest. ‘it’s okay… i’m sorry i ruined the night…you got any more stories?’

mav chuckled, ‘oh boy, do i’

when carole came up to check on the boys a few hours later, they were rolling on the floor, almost pissing themselves with laughter.

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 1

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I've been lurking on here for a while, reading Top Gun fics and I recently got inspired to write one of my own. Hopefully someone reads it and likes it!

Note about the format: Between every header is a change in the point of view :)

Summery: When Rooster was med-evaced back to San Diego from the mission field, the last thing he expected was to wake up with a tube down his throat and the most beautiful woman he's ever seen at his bedside.

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

“Hey Carly, I’m taking over for room 4 today. Are you ready to give report?” You ask the cute blonde night shift nurse, she looked about 12 years old. What in the hell was she doing in the ICU of a military hospital? Hell, you should be asking yourself the same question. You hated it here at this boys club where nurses were ignored as a female dominated profession, despite being the people who spend the most amount of time at the patient’s bedside in a 12 hour stretch. But you were only one week into this eight week travel assignment and the money was great, so you just had to grin and bear it and make as few enemies as possible.

“The census is low, is this gonna be your only patient?” She asked.

“Yeah.” You pulled out your report sheet and pen, “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

You could tell Carly was fresh off of orientation by how nervous she looked before beginning to speak.

“Hey,” You placed a comforting hand on her knee, “take your time, tell me what you know, and if I have any questions I’ll ask them when you’re done. You just finished a long shift, it’s okay to be a little out of it. We’ll get all the info we need together. No pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” Carly nodded and took a deep breath, “This is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, 35 year old male, full code, no known allergies…”

You quietly took down the pertinent information about Lt. Bradshaw as Carly spoke. He was a pilot, recovered after a crash, and was stitched back together pretty well on the aircraft carrier, he went septic and was transported back to the states to your hospital. Pretty standard stuff. He was currently on a ventilator for breathing support but all seemed to be going in a positive direction despite the shitty circumstances.

Carly finished her report with a sigh of relief, you had a feeling the staff nurses weren’t as respectful when receiving report from a new graduate. “Any questions?”

“Any family  at the bedside?” You asked.

“No, no family. Apparently a guy named Pete Mitchell calls daily for updates, they’re not related but he’s included on the patient’s medical information release forms, so we can talk to him. Chart says he’s single, no siblings, and both parents have passed away.” Carly yawned, she was beginning to fade after a long night. You didn’t want to hold her up anymore than necessary, she needed to get home and go to bed.

“Okay,” You clicked your pen, “Sounds good. Let’s go check lines and meds so you can get out of here.”

She paused for a second as you got up from your chair at the nurses station, “Y/N… thank you for being so nice… I’m only a week off of orientation and things are still so new…”

You smiled at the compliment, “We’ve all been there. Every nurse on this unit was new at one point and I think sometimes they forget that. Hell, I’m a traveler and this is only my second week and there’s so much that’s new to me too. You’re doing great.”

You spent the first part of your morning before rounds with the care team just cleaning up the patient, organizing the room, all that good stuff. Though it wasn’t necessarily considered “professional”, you played some music softly from your phone as you worked. You found that music or just talking to patients on vents helped with agitation. You couldn’t imagine anything more tortuous than listening to repetitive beeping and alarms all day long and nothing else. Though most managers didn’t like it, that didn’t stop you. What were they gonna do? Fire you? Hospitals hire travelers at such a high price point when they’re understaffed and desperate. They needed you more than you needed them.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“When the sun goes down, we’ll be groovin’

When the sun goes down, we’ll feel alright

When the sun sinks down over the water

Everything is hotter when the sun goes down…”

Who the fuck listens to Kenny Chesney anymore? Rooster thought to himself.

He knew he was sick, the docs on the ship told him that before they knocked him out to shove the tube down his throat. They told him he’d be med-evaced back to San Diego because the hospital where he was overseas didn’t have the capabilities to take care of someone as sick as him. He didn’t know how long he had been there, all the days run together when you’re too weak to open your eyes. He was used to having things done to him, he was past the point of getting agitated about it, because he knew they’d just sedate him more.

“Alright, Bradshaw.” A confident voice said, “All of your lines are untangled, your room is clean, and your initial assessment is done… How about we have a little spa day? You’re smellin’ a little… ripe.”

RUDE! 

“HA! You can hear me! You raised your eyebrows!” She giggled, damn it was a cute giggle. Rooster honestly hadn’t realized he was moving his face. But he believed her because that’s what his face usually does when he’s surprised. “You’ve been caught. No more playing dumb.”

Water started running, splashing, and the suction was turned on… that sound usually meant his mouth was gonna get cleaned and he was gonna feel something funny down his throat. He hated it.

“Carly told me you were getting agitated during mouth care last night. Since you can hear me, I’m going to tell you everything I’m doing, so don’t get sassy with me.” She said, “Deal?”

Anything for the first person not to treat me like a damn vegetable. This was the first time someone actually talked to him and told him what the fuck was happening since he got here. It was a welcome change.

The kind yet sassy voice interrupted his thoughts, “Okay, mouth care. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

She didn’t lie to him, she was quick and the stupid suction caused him minimal discomfort. Maybe it was because he could brace himself, or maybe it was because she was just really good at her job.

“I’m about to give you a full body bath, so how about we get to know each other a little bit.” She said as she adjusted his sheets and pillows to reposition him, placing a towel under his head, and rinsing his hair with warm water.

Rooster’s whole body relaxed.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m obviously your nurse today and will probably be for the next few days…” Nurse Y/N went on about where she’s from, her hobbies, how she’s not making many friends in this new hospital she’s been contracted out to.

Welcome to the military, it’s a boy’s club. He wished he could say that to her. He imagined medicine was similar to aviation, full of egos.

Before Rooster knew it, his whole body had been washed from head to toe. He hadn’t felt this clean in what felt like years.

“So Lieutenant… not to be crude but… I gotta clean your bits. But at least we’ve really gotten to know each other.” Nurse Y/N said, “Your girlfriend will thank me later.”

Ha! Rooster laughed to himself, What girlfriend?! My dick hasn’t been played with in months!

Like with the mouth care, her cleaning was quick and respectful. And damn, being clean felt so good. She went on to change his gown, sheets, and blankets. Rooster truly felt like a new man.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, you’ve never looked better.” She said with a satisfied sigh.

That’s a damn lie, but I’ll take the compliments wherever I can get them at this point.

“Hey Y/N,” Another female voice said, “They’re starting with you for rounds. Are you ready to present your patient or should I stall?”

“Nah, I’m ready. Tell them to come in whenever.” Nurse Y/N said, then her voice got low and she whispered to Bradley, “I’m gonna try to get them to lighten your sedation and move towards trials of turning the ventilator off. It’s not gonna be comfortable but the sooner we start working towards getting that tube out of your throat, the sooner you can get the hell out of here.”

Rooster wanted to make sure she knew he heard her and that he was on board, it took every ounce of strength in his body, but he nodded.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“No way.” The resident physician said simply after you gave your recommendation with your presentation of Lt. Bradshaw

You were dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean no?!, “This patient was more than ready to move towards extubation.” 

“And what makes you the expert?” the resident asked.

Oh lord, this fresh out of med school asshole was turning rounds into a dick measuring contest.

“The fact that I’ve been at his bedside for the past three and a half hours, I assessed him, bathed him, turned him, and he is showing signs of progress. The next step is spontaneous breathing trials and extubation. The longer he stays on the vent, the more likely he is to get pneumonia, as we all should know, Doctor.” You explained coolly but made sure to add his (probably newly earned) title. 

“I agree with…” The attending looked at you and scanned your badge, “... Y/N… What do you think from a Respiratory Therapy standpoint, Brent?” He looked over at Brent, the RT.

Brent smirked and narrowed his eyes at the resident, “I also think moving towards extubation is a good thing. If he has two successful trials, he could be off the vent by the end of the day.”

The attending physician nodded, “Then it’s a plan. And I think this is a really good lesson for the residents and medical students with us on rounds, the nurses know more about the patient than we do. We should always consider their recommendations because they have the most valuable view on the patient, simply because they spend time with them.”

You tried to dim the glow that was on your face.

 “Thanks, Dr…” You scanned the attending’s badge the same way he did yours.

“Carter, Brendan Carter.” He extended his hand and you shook it, “Glad to have you here.”

That was the most welcome anyone had made you feel in the last week here. Who would’ve thought a wrinkly old attending doctor with dancing eyes would be the person to stand up for you and make you feel secure in your clinical decision making.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Rooster wasn’t sure how much time had gone by since Nurse Y/N told him she was turning down his sedatives but it felt like he could open his eyes almost instantly. It was so… bright. Once his eyes adjusted, he scanned his surroundings, the lights weren’t even on but the sun shining through the large window felt blinding. He looked to his left and saw the machine that the tube in his throat was attached to, the machine that had kept him alive for God knows how long. He looked to his right and saw multiple IV poles that attached him to lines and lines of medicine and fluid. Further to his right, he saw a woman standing at a computer, typing away furiously, her face was serious yet beautiful, was that Nurse Y/N?

“Good morning, Lt. Bradshaw.” She said quietly, “You’re still attached to your breathing tube, so you can’t talk. Now that you’re awake we’re one step closer to getting you off that thing. Sound good?”

Rooster nodded slowly, wishing he could thank her for everything. For talking to him, bathing him, treating him like a human-being.

“Do you feel strong enough to write?” She asked, “Can I get you a whiteboard?”

He nodded again.

“I’ll be right back.” She swiftly left the room. 

Rooster couldn’t help but love watching her walk away. Along with a beautiful face, he could tell she had a great body hiding underneath those scrubs. It had been so long since he’d seen a pretty girl.

She returned quickly with a whiteboard and a marker, handing it to him, “What’s on your mind Lieutenant?”

Call me Bradley. He scribbled, 

“Nice to meet you Bradley.” She smiled down at him, “How are ya feelin’?”

Better now that I’m clean and awake. He wrote.

“There’s something healing about a bath and being taken out of your drug induced sleep, huh?” She giggled.

Rooster nodded and started writing again, Thank you for everything.

“No biggie. I’m glad to see you doing so well. Is it okay if I do a full assessment on you, just since you’re awake now?” She asked.

He nodded, this girl could do anything she wanted to him. She was basically his angel.

[mynameismckenziemae]

I Love You Two

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin

Current word count: 37,015

Rating: Explicit! See warnings below in red.

Summary: You’ve been chasing Bradley Bradshaw since could walk. He follows his dad’s footsteps and joins the Navy after high school, and you move across the country for college a few years later at 18.

10 years pass but you never forget that brown-eyed boy…maybe that’s why every relationship you’ve been in fails. The friendship with Bradley is easily rekindled when you move back home, along with the feelings you’ve tried to suppress. It seems he feels the same about you after an incredible, life-changing night together. But he’s gone the next morning, without a word or even a note, leaving you heartbroken and humiliated.

A few months later, a green-eyed man defends your honor from a drunk patron while you’re bartending. To show your thanks, you buy him a drink. A hot and heavy fling follows with expectations to end things when he deploys. You brace for another heartbreak but then he asks to pursue more when he gets returns.

After returning from a rough deployment of his own, Bradley’s determined to find you as soon as his feet touch dry land. Undeterred when you ignore his phone calls and texts, he heads to the Hard Deck, hoping you’re there or that Penny will take pity on him. He’s spent countless nights beating himself up for leaving you the way he did and nothing will stop him from telling you how he really feels before he begs for your forgiveness and another chance.

But he finds you in the arms of the man who’s made the last 3 months of his life a living hell.

*This is a love triangle/why choose/enemies to lovers/repressed bisexuality/polyamorous story and is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. MDNI!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

*This work is ongoing!

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

[senawashere]

We're on this together... (Chapter II)

Bradley Bradshaw × fem!wife!reader

Summary: Is it harder for you? Or for Bradley?

Warnings: infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf. Mostly angst.

'We are on this journey together and we will never separate. I love you."

January 3, 2023.

Everyone,mostly you, could see how much Bradley loved childrens. Babies, toddlers, teenagers, it didn't matter, he loved them.

Ever since you married, you had admired how he treated them, how he made them laugh, how they played, and how his eyes lit up at the high-pitched squeals they made when he threw them in the air. He would catch them again. And again.

He... was born just for this.

That's why you were trying so hard to give him what he wanted more than anything in the world; a baby,a kid of yours.

He searches hundreds of websites for you on ways to increase your chances of getting pregnant, checks your ovulation time, changes your diet... he does the impossible and you both still can't succeed.

You couldn't make your husband happy. He hated this sentence.

And the worst part is, he's not the only one waiting for you to have his child, everyone is doing it, all of your friends are having their second or third kids and you were still... not pregnant.

One day, you were criticized among your friends for not having a flat stomach. They said something as a joke that you might be pregnant, but it wasn't like that.

Just because you dont have a flat belly doesn't mean you're pregnant, right?

Your tears feel familiar on your skin now and when you were sure Bradley is gone you were crying all over the house, you couldn't let him see you like this, it's not fair when he gave you everything and you couldn't give him something so simple.

It's that simple. Right?

You don't want help, you can do it on your own, you know he can or so he thinks, he keeps busy every day trying not to think about it, but it's inevitable, you can't do that when it's something he wants so badly.

You were doing your usual work on laptop, trying to get rid of the thoughts in your head, even if only a little, you were scrolling through your e-mail box while slow jazz was playing in the background, writing down what you needed to write and dealing with the files you needed to handle.

"A young man fell into the base today! We walked around the hard deck and drank soda's. He was with for a while we had a lot of fun, but I think he misses his aunt y/n. I love you baby.💞"

The text came up with a picture of your husband with Jake's son, three of them smiling and Bradley holding some soda cans in his left arm and the right one is holding the boy's shoulder. It was beautiful and made your heart ache, a small smile appeared on your face,the voices and pain in your head seemed to be over, at least for a mimute, and you replied to the message, "I love you two!! Say hello to Jake for me.💓💓"

You stared at the picture for a few seconds, forgetting about the task in front of you.

The smile on Bradley's face was genuine, and he was holding the little boy with incredible familiarity, as if he already knew how to hold a child even though it wasn't his own.

Your phone hit the wooden table with a loud thud and you brought your hands up to your face, feeling tears of frustration falling from your eyes.

No, you were not jealous of them, in fact, you were very happy that they were pregnant with the third one, but why couldn't you?

This was unfair.

While God gave people the chance to have so many children, why couldn't you even have one?

And the saddest problem was,you.

Bradley was perfectly healthy, he could get a different woman pregnant, but he couldn't get you.

The house was quiet, unlike your head, thousands of things were going on every second.

You left your spot and went upstairs to take another pregnancy test with some hope.

It came out negative. Like always.

January 18, 2023.

You throw the four pregnancy tests you took ten minutes ago into the trash can and you hear Bradley sigh as he sits on the bed, hiding his face with his hands. You sit next to him.

“We just have to try harder.” He said, lifting his head to look at you and placing his hand comfortably on your knee.

“What does 'trying harder' mean?” you asked,with a hint of you wobble voice from the emotions. "We do this every day, especially when I'm ovulating, when I..."

"Baby, calm down." Bradley tells you and he just snorts in annoyance.

"Maybe...we could go to another doctor?" He gets down on one knee as if he's proposing, but you stand up and look at him as if he had three heads.

"Why should I go to the doctor? There is nothing wrong with me, we will have this baby, I know. Sooner or later." you exclaimed.

He stood up and took your hands in his, stroking your wrists.

"Of course we will, I have no doubt about that. But—it's better to know more, you know?"

"We're going to have this baby, Bradley. I am going to."

Uh oh-

I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS CHAPTER BEING SO SHORT😭😭😭 and bad news it is progressively gets more sad.. And there is going to be timeline-

I'm tagging people who might be interested and some mutuals:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @els-marvelvsp @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady and if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[roosterforme]

In the Navy Now | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley and Jake catch their wives in the midst of a lie, Bradley wonders what made you think you couldn't be honest with him. He soon realizes you have a trick up your sleeve, one that makes his work day a lot more exciting. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, adult language, math as foreplay

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

"You know what really sucks?" Bradley mused as he sat at a table for two in the cafeteria on base.

"What's that?" Jake asked in response, digging his fork into a bowl of pasta.

Bradley looked around the room at everyone else and sighed. "You and I are forced to socialize all the time now, because our wives are best friends."

He saw Jake on Saturday, and also last night at the bar, and again every damn day at work.

Jake shrugged as he took a bite of his lunch. "It's not that bad."

"Speak for yourself. I literally can't understand what Jessica sees in you."

As soon as he heard Jake's laugh, Bradley knew what was coming. "You're literally the last person who should be making comments like that. Your wife is so hot, it's absolutely unbelievable she is with you willingly. She had ten years to come to her senses."

Bradley smiled as he thought about you. "She missed me."

Jake was shaking his head. "She must have been with some seriously ugly guys or something in those ten years."

Bradley was laughing now as he said, "I'm telling you, she missed me as much as I missed her."

"Riiiight. I'm about to text her and ask for verification on that one."

Bradley poked at his salad and murmured, "Don't even bother. She's in some sort of math seminar with Dean Walters all day. Told me not to try reaching her unless it's an emergency."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked, giving him a funny look. "Jess said she had a department meeting with the dean today. For the science department."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course I'm sure. I even packed her an extra snack. Unlike you, I actually listen to my wife when she talks. I'm sure you're wrong."

But Jake was already digging in the pocket of his flight suit for his phone, and when he unlocked it and slid it across the table, Bradley picked it up. He skimmed a text that Jessica sent just a few hours ago.

I love you! Don't forget, I'll be unreachable most of the day. Physics meeting with Dean Walters. 

Bradley frowned. If this was true, then you lied to him. You never lied to him. He tried his best to let you know that you never had to do that. But now he remembered that you even went so far as to tell him you didn't need a ride home from campus today, and that actually seemed suspicious, too.

"Why do they want us to think they're busy all day?"

"It doesn't really make any sense," Jake said as he set his fork down. "Damn. Jess knows she can talk to me about anything."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, "I don't like this shit." The uneasy feeling seemed to spread through his entire body as he stood. "We need to get going. Special class today, remember?"

"Fuck," Jake muttered under his breath, clearly as excited about the guest lecturer as Bradley was. Sitting in the classroom for a few hours was usually always tedious compared to flying, but the lectures that Cyclone had been adding to their schedules randomly over the past few months were worse than the most boring class Bradley ever took at the University of Virginia.

"Let's get this over with," he said, dropping his tray off and fighting the urge to text you just to see what you'd have to say. Now he was going to have to figure out a way to call you out about lying later. But it was still puzzling him as to why you and Jessica would both tell the same exact lie. What was the point of that? If you didn't want Bradley to bother you at work, that was all you needed to say. But it wasn't like he was annoying like Jake was; he could understand Jessica needing a break from her husband, but did you need one too?

He was still trying to figure out if there was something going wrong with his marriage when he walked into the classroom. Cyclone was standing at the front, hands on his hips, glaring at Bradley and Jake as they walked inside with two minutes to spare. The only seats left were both up in the front row, and Bradley groaned as he dropped down into one of them. The last guest speaker they had spit the entire time he talked, and the one before that spoke at full volume like she was teaching a room full of hundreds of people rather than the twenty four that were gathered.

"I regret not getting here early," Jake murmured, and Bradley nodded as he shifted in his seat and messed with the cuffs of the sleeves of his flight suit. He was really hung up on what you could possibly be doing today, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to pay attention to this lecture topic at all. And that's when he noticed what was written on the white board behind Cyclone.

THE PHYSICS OF PROPULSION AND MATHEMATICAL FORMULATIONS IN SINGLE SEAT F/A-18 JETS

He groaned, because even the word mathematical made him think about you. This was about to be a long afternoon. Then Admiral Simpson cleared his throat, and Bradley forced his attention to the man in front of him.

"Welcome. Today's lecture topic is of the utmost importance regarding updates that will be made to your aircrafts this year. We will take a look at jet propulsion and the calculations specific to your F/A-18s before the new NATOPS is even released. We have two guest speakers who are professors from San Diego State University's math and physics departments, and they have graciously agreed to spend some time on this topic with us."

"No way," Bradley whispered, convinced it had to be you. He swiveled around in his seat so fast, he thought he might have broken it as he hung over the arm into the aisle when the classroom door opened. He could hear her high heels on the floor before he realized he was looking at Jessica enter the room, but then his heart skipped around in his chest just like the first time he saw you over ten years ago at his fraternity house. You looked fucking hot as sin, strolling in behind Jake's wife with a folder in your hand and a smirk on your red lips. Your eyes found his immediately as he sat there gaping at you while you made your way to the front of the room, but other than a little nod in his direction, you gave him nothing.

"Holy shit," Jake hissed next to him as Bradley nodded in agreement, his eyes glued on your body as he heard Cyclone introduce you and Dr. Jessica Reed by name. You gave the room at large a little wave, but your eyes flicked him, and Bradley let out the breath he had apparently been holding as he relaxed into his seat. So this must have been why you tried to make it seem like you were extremely busy today. Maybe you and Jessica didn't want him and Jake to catch on to the fact that you'd be presenting their class.

As Jessica started talking, he took in every inch of your appearance. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and you were doing it very well. Bradley was proficient at calculus, having attended many of your college level math lectures. Sometimes he surprised you, but sometimes you knew ahead of time that he planned on being there. It didn't hurt that the lectures he attended usually ended with sex or a blowjob for him. Somehow math had turned into a form of foreplay for the two of you, and Bradley couldn't get enough. You'd praise him when he was able to solve a difficult problem, and the rewards were always sexy.

He was used to seeing you like this when he visited San Diego State University, but getting to witness your brilliance on the Naval base was already so exciting. Right now, he was already having a difficult time sitting still as he grew hard at the sound of your voice.

"The calculations related to your Super Hornets are so precise, we'll just take a look at a handful of examples to give you an idea of what we mean," you said, opening up your folder on the table as Bradley ran his sweaty palms on his flight suit. You were only a few feet away from him. He could smell your shampoo. He could count the little silver buttons on the side of your skirt. He had to bite his lip as you turned toward the white board and uncapped a marker as you said, "Please, let me know if I'm going too fast."

He could pick your writing out easily, but there was something about the way you always chose the letter B for your variables when he was watching. Your smooth penmanship started to fill the board as you talked your way through the problem, but Bradley could barely take his eyes off your ass. He turned around briefly to make sure nobody else had the same idea he did, but it was hard to tell. The younger guys looked a lot more enthusiastic than they usually did, and he might have to pound some sense into them later. Didn't they know you were his fucking wife?

But maybe they didn't. You kept your name the same when you got married. So did Jessica for that matter. Now Bradley sat a little taller in his seat as he realized he was married to one of the two extremely hot PhDs who all the other men in the room were drooling over.

"Does that make sense?" you asked, turning back to face them with a satisfied look on your face. "Dr. Reed can take over explaining the actual physics of the aircraft propulsion, and then I'll jump back in with the next calculation."

Bradley smiled at you while Jessica started talking again, and he could tell you were trying not to look at him as your lips curled into a grin. God, you were just fucking perfect. Smart and silly and sexy. And the two of you had so much history together, he could practically read the thoughts on your face.

"Did they dress like this on purpose?" Jake croaked softly.

"I know mine did," Bradley whispered. Your little tweed skirt and loafers screamed east coast academic. It looked as good on you as his tie dye shirt always did. It was just as sexy as lingerie. It was almost pornographic to him at this point. But today you had them paired with a blazer and a bodysuit. A bodysuit. He loved those things with the little snaps that held them closed as they hugged your curves. He was almost certain you'd skipped a bra. He couldn't wait to find out for sure.

Jessica was still talking about jet propulsion. Bradley would ask you to explain it to him later if it was actually important. Right now, you were slowly buttoning and then unbuttoning your blazer over and over again while you alternated between consulting your notes and stealing glances at Bradley. He was too warm as he watched your fingers work, and your eyes caught his as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Hey, Sugar," he mouthed, and your gaze dropped back to your folder as you bit your lip and smiled. He was ready to go home. Take you to bed. Or maybe get a private lecture in your home office. Or maybe drive all the way to the college and visit one of the library study rooms. You made everything so exciting, he wanted all of it.

When Jessica handed the lecture back over to you, Bradley squirmed in his seat as you wrote another calculation on the board. Jake was really no better in the seat next to him, and he realized the two of them must look like idiots at the moment. But you were making a subtle math joke that he understood, and when you glanced over your shoulder, your engagement ring sparkled under the fluorescent light.

"Now this is how the updates will actually make your aircrafts more fuel efficient," you said as you easily worked through a calculation that looked so complicated, Isaac Newton wouldn't have been able to solve it. Bradley's cock was still half hard, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to stand up after this. But then you really threw him for a loop when you casually added the equation from your tattoo into the middle of the mess of mathematics on the white board. Now the only thing he could think about was your tits. Or rather, him running his lips along your math titty tattoo.

Bradley wasn't going to be able to sit still for much longer, but you turned around and asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"

He had to sit there and listen to several of the other guys ask you the most idiotic questions just so they could have your attention. Then Bradley raised his hand and waited until you pointed at him and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw?" with an amused look on your face. "You have a question?"

"Yeah," he said, voice raspy. "I do, professor. If the variable B is directly related to propulsion, then how is that going to affect my thrust?"

He kept a straight face while you fought to do the same. You cleared your throat, took a step in his direction, and said, "You're going to need to have some additional thrust, Lieutenant."

Bradley nodded and gave you a thoughtful look. "Hmmm, that's what I thought. And it looks like a very complicated calculation."

You stood there in front of everyone in your little tweed skirt and the diamond ring he gave you and said, "If you'd like a more thorough explanation, I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes with you afterwards, Lieutenant."

As he leaned back in his seat, he told you, "I look forward to it."

So Bradley listened to Jessica while you occasionally interjected, and he kept his eyes on your face as his excitement started to build even more. When the afternoon lecture was finally over, he and Jake both stayed in their seats while Cyclone shook hands with the two of you.

"How long do you think they've been planning this?" Jake whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Not sure," Bradley replied as you collected your notes into your folder. "But I intend to find out." He was impressed as hell that you managed to pull this off without him noticing, but his skin was tingling with need. He desperately wanted to get his hands on you after you worked him up with all of the intellectual teasing. 

As soon as Cyclone dismissed everyone, Jake was on his feet, dragging Jessica out of the classroom, but Bradley didn't move an inch in his seat. His cock was hard, and you were running your hand along your tweed covered hip as you smiled at him. But then he had to endure one of the younger aviators who was new to Top Gun trying to chat you up when he should have just left the classroom with the others. When you turned to face him instead, annoyance washed through Bradley's veins.

"Uh, hi, uh I actually studied mathematics at the Naval Academy, and I graduated three years ago, and uh, I was just wondering if you would want to get a drink with me sometime and talk more about, um, some of the topics you covered about propulsion and thrust-"

"Fuck off, man," Bradley barked. "She's wearing goddamn wedding rings. And she's not interested."

Your hand slipped over your lips as you laughed silently while the younger man looked at Bradley in shock. "Oh. Right. Okay," he muttered before hightailing it from the now nearly empty classroom.

"That wasn't very nice," you said, fighting against a smile. "He seemed really sweet. I was going to let him shoot his shot."

Bradley stood with a soft groan, his erection pressing against the zipper of his flight suit. "I was promised a private tutorial session, Dr. Sugar. I'm not about to let a twenty-something year old take up any of my time."

Without hesitation, you walked over to him and started to slowly unzip his flight suit. "Hate to break it to you, Beer Boy, but you were a twenty-something year old when I fell in love with you." 

You ran your fingers along his undershirt, and Bradley glanced at the open classroom door as he whispered, "I hope you know you're not leaving this room until you're full of my cum."

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you gasped, eyes wide and surprised. But your hand was dipping lower to his abs, and he could tell you were as turned on as he was. "This is a tutoring session!"

Bradley wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently led you toward the door which he immediately closed. "I want to know how the hell you managed to pull this off. I had no idea you and Jessica were going to be teaching a class for the Navy."

"We've been working on our lesson plan for weeks," you said with a smirk as Bradley placed both of your palms on the door and flipped the light switch off. In the dimly lit room, you whispered, "We wanted it to be a surprise."

Bradley stood behind you, facing the door and kissed your neck above your unbuttoned blazer. "And here I thought you lied to me about your plans because you needed a break from me."

You moaned softly as his nose traced the shell of your ear. "Oh, please. It's not like you're annoying like Jake. I don't need a break from you, Beer Boy."

"Hmm, then what do you need from me?" he asked softly, letting one hand slide up your bodysuit while he confirmed that you were not wearing a bra. Your nipples were tight peaks as he stroked them through the fabric with one big hand, and you bumped your ass back against his erection.

"I need you to tell me what you know about thrust, Lieutenant," you stated in your teacher voice which made him grind against you.

"I know you like it when I give you a little thrust," he grunted, guiding your tweed skirt up your thighs as you gasped.

"Is this a good idea?" you asked, still pressing your body back against his. "Should we wait until we get home?"

"Can't," he growled, yanking your skirt up over your ass and wrapping his hands around your hips as he looked down at the perfect view. "You got me too worked up. You know what your lectures do to me. And this time it was on my home turf."

Your hands were still planted on the door as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "Almost like I'm in the Navy now. Lieutenant Sugar? Should I get a uniform?"

"Oh, fuck. You know I couldn't handle that. Besides, I'm really partial to your tweed." He was running his knuckles down your rear end as he whispered, "Please, let me fuck you. I'll be quick, Baby."

His fingers were already at the snaps on your bodysuit that hid your pussy from his touch when you said, "Do it."

With a flick of his wrist, the snaps sprung free, and he ran his finger along your slit. Your back arched as he carefully pulled his cock free from his unzipped flight suit and underwear, and then he was guiding you to your tiptoes as he slipped himself inside you.

Bradley wrapped one hand around your waist and braced the door closed with the other as he buried himself deep inside you. Your soft gasp sounded beautiful as he sucked on your neck and gave you a few deep strokes. When he started to go faster, your fingers curled against the door as you whined his name, and he asked, "How's my thrust?"

Your head tipped back against his shoulder as you whispered, "You're just about there. Maybe a little harder."

Always wanting to be your top student, he did exactly as you told him and picked up the pace, letting himself slam against your ass. Your tight pussy felt so fucking good, and normally he'd draw this out as long as possible, but not today. He let your grip on him take over all of his senses, and soon he was grunting next to your ear, lips parted as he fucked you up against the door in a classroom at Top Gun.

"This is filthy as hell," he muttered, jerking his hips in an uneven rhythm. "Fucking my perfect wife on base. During work hours." 

"Beer Boy," you gasped when he slammed deep and held himself there. He did it again, loving the sound of his body meeting yours so intimately. A third time, and the pull along his spine as you moaned was too much. You had complete control over him.

Bradley gave it to you hard until he was panting. He let himself come as you turned and looked back at him, licking those sinful lips. "Jesus, fuck, holy shit," he groaned before kissing your lips softly as he gave you a few more thrusts before pulling himself free.

He was still a little hard as he tucked himself back into his flight suit and zipped it up again. When he went to fix your bodysuit, he ended up with his fingers coated in your arousal mixed with his cum as he did the snaps once again.

"Good as new," he murmured as you tugged your skirt down and turned to face him. He kissed you again before he said, "We should get out of here."

You nodded and collected your folder before pulling the door open and strolling casually out into the hallway like you didn't have his sticky cum rubbing against your inner thighs. "Now that you're all squared away with your thrust variable," you told him as he licked his fingers clean, enjoying the way the two of you tasted together, "you'll be even faster, Lieutenant."

Bradley snickered as you and he rounded the corner. "I hope you mean in the air. Quickies aren't really my thing, unless we're in a library study room or apparently an empty Naval classroom."

"There you are, professor." Cyclone was trying to flag you down, and Bradley watched you stumble as you headed off in his direction. He wasn't even sure if Admiral Simpson knew you and he were married, but the other man looked overjoyed as he said, "I've already been getting wonderful feedback about you and Dr. Reed, and I'm hoping you'll both agree to come back next month for another lecture on a different topic."

Bradley groaned and just kept walking. He would wait for you in the parking lot where he'd have a moment to himself to collect his thoughts. More sexy tweed and his hot wife in the classroom? Another lecture topic? Hours of mathematical foreplay that nobody else seemed to pick up on? Quickies were about to become his thing.

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

I missed Beer Boy and Sugar SO MUCH! She's such a queen, she literally just has to exist to make him lose his mind. But she knows what she did here. She knows. Thanks for reading!

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[bradshawburner]

Oh my god, Mary! This was so good!

I love these two, and getting to see them in the future living their best life is everything!

Their reunion was so sweet and tender, the idea of them savoring the moment with each other made me all kinds of tender. And then The Reunionnn™️, well, stick a fork in me I’m done.

I adored this part!

You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way.

AND IN HIS OWN HANDWRITING??!! 🫠🫠🫠

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last two months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly taken another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

Your song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."