#bradley rooster bradshaw angst

[callsigncherub]

To love and be loved.

Summary: Rooster learns what it's like to love and be loved.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, ANGST, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, major character death, drunk driving.

Word count: 4.6k

This is a very angsty piece so 18+ minors DNI.

If there was ever one thing Bradley Bradshaw was completely and utterly sure of, it was that he was going to spend the rest of his life by himself. And he was okay with that. He grew up knowing the damage it causes losing the one person you love the most, he saw it first-hand. He saw what his mother had to go through and how difficult it was to be in so much pain but carry on in life. Working, paying the bills, and having the responsibility of a child was challenging enough, but doing all of that whilst grieving was something he could never begin to comprehend. And something he would never want to put someone through.

Nevertheless, he had a great childhood. Living in a small, white beach house along the coast with his mother, he has fond memories of growing up. Baking cakes on Sundays and licking the batter off the spoon, singing corny 80s songs in the car with his mother on the way to school and building model planes with Mav. He had a lot of friends growing up, he was surrounded by love. But Bradley always felt like a part of him was missing. His father.

His mother always told him stories about his father. With Bradley sat across her lap outside on the porch swing, flicking through several photo albums and fiddling with a picture of the three of them when Bradley was born, she would tell him about how they met and fell in love, how much he loved flying with Mav, the family holidays they went on when Bradley was a young child, how Goose nearly passed out when Bradley was born, and how much Goose absolutely adored his son.

At first, Bradley loved hearing these stories, he used to beg his mother to tell him more, but as he entered his early teens, all he felt was anger.

It all started when he woke up one morning to make grab his mother a tea and noticed his father’s favourite mug still at the back of the cupboard, slightly dusty and derelict. He wondered what it was still doing there if no one had been or was going to use it. The next week he was clearing out the attic looking for things to sell so he could save up for the latest CD player when he came across a box with ‘Nick and Carole’ scribbled along its side, filled with old videos, wedding pictures, his mother’s wedding dress and an album entirely dedicated to his father’s journey of being a naval aviator. But underneath all of the memories held in this box were a pair of boots and a khaki uniform.

A few days after finding the box in the attic, he was on his way out to school when his mother noticed his sweater was getting a bit too tight on him and handed him one of his fathers and when he came home, he found a pile of clothes on his bed that he could only assume also belonged to his father. Curiously, Bradley found himself eyeing the pile of shorts and sweaters when a bright yellow caught his eye and he rummaged through the pile, only to pull out the ugliest looking Hawaiian print shirt he’s ever seen.

“Your father loved that shirt. God, you look so much like him Bradley.’ His mother said, standing at the doorway with tear filled eyes.

Bradley lay awake in bed that night hit with an irrepressible amount of emotion, surprised that despite his father passing whilst he was so young, he could remember so much. He thought about the mug, and how his father would drink his coffee from it every day at breakfast, Bradley sat on his knee eating bacon and eggs and his mother ranting about how she doesn’t understand how he could drink black coffee and enjoy it. He remembered waiting on the front porch every day for his father to return home from work and hearing the same uniform he found a week ago, he remembered the sound that those exact boots would make walking up the steps to their home and the joy he felt to see his father. And as Bradley sat up in bed, mind running 100 miles per hour he caught the vibrant shirt hanging on the back of his desk chair and caught the memory of their last family holiday together. The holiday where he built sandcastles with his father, went swimming in the ocean with his mother, it was their final moment of happiness before disaster struck.

For a moment, Bradley smiled with fondness at the thought of his father. But the grief that came after his momentary happiness hit him at full force, like a punch to the gut. He was hit with the realisation that he’d never see his father drink from that mug again, he’d never hear the clunk of those boots walking up the front porch after a long day at work, he’d never see his father wearing his collection of ridiculous Hawaiian shirts again. And at that, he struggled to understand why he was only now beginning to feel this way.

The funny thing with grief is, it never truly goes away. It comes and goes. Sometimes, some days, it’s easier to handle but other days it’s a tough pill to swallow and Bradley was angry at how much time he already lost with his father and how for the rest of his life, there’s always going to be a part of him that’s empty.

So, Bradley spent his teens in a much more reckless way than his mother thought was natural. The late nights, the disobedience, the parties, the girls, coming home high early hours of the morning because he couldn’t face the way he felt.

In all honesty it broke his mother’s heart, and he could see that. It hurt him to hurt her, but there was something that held him back from ever being able to change and truth be told, he was terrified. Maybe it was the fact that it was easier to run away from how he felt rather than face it head on, or maybe it was self-preservation – that if he pushed his mother away then he would hurt less. He felt the burden of being his mother’s only child. Everything she went through whilst having a son to look after as well. And if anything were to happen to his mother, he thought maybe it would be easier to cope. But deep-down Bradley thought that if he followed in his father’s footsteps of joining the Navy, maybe he’d feel that little bit closer to him. Maybe he wouldn’t be so self-destructive. Just maybe, he would make his parents proud.

There are a lot of things Bradley regrets in his life and the way he acted over his teens was one of them. He wanted forgiveness for the amount of time he missed out on because of his incessant need to prove a point he couldn’t even understand until he did. He would be better off alone, forever.

At 18 Bradley lost his mother to a gruelling bout of breast cancer. It was the most difficult thing Bradley had ever gone through in his life. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that she was gone, that he would never see her face again, sing along in the car with her, feel her warm embrace. And to this day, he still remembers the last thing she ever said to him, lying in the hospice where she took her last breath, a long night of waiting ahead of him.

“Bradley, your father loved you so much. I love you so much. Make us proud, my beautiful boy.”

Those were the last words he heard his mother speak, but he could see in her eyes that she forgave him, that every word she’d just said was meant with the truest of intentions and enough love to conquer the world.

After that day, Bradley made it his life’s purpose to serve his country by joining the US navy. His life consisted of his F-18, ready meals, drinks at the Hard Deck and returning home to the barracks – alone. He didn’t fall in love, he never allowed himself to. Sure, he’s had hook-ups in the past, he’d had girls tell him they loved him, but not once had he ever said it back with meaning or said it back at all. He was okay with being alone, because he had no obligations, he wasn’t important to anyone and he was happy with it being that way because he prefers being by himself rather than forcing a love and marriage and kids – pretending to be a person that he isn’t, when he knows it’ll only be temporary.

What is there to lose?

That’s a simple enough question that Bradley thought he knew the answer to. Nothing, he had absolutely nothing to lose. No wife, no children, not even a pet.

But then he met the most beautiful soul and something in him couldn’t quite stay away.

The Hard Deck was always busy on a Friday night, but this one night in particular was jam packed. Celebratory drinks were held for the success of the Uranium Mission and Bradley, though ecstatic that the mission was over, and that he was alive, couldn’t shake the feeling of misery that he felt deep down for realising just how precious life is and how he’s only getting older – and lonelier. He never thought his perspective on how he would spend the rest of his life would change and so he sat at the bar, beer in hand wallowing in self-pity. Downing the rest of his beer, Bradley stood up and slammed some cash on the bar ready to call it a night, about to head off towards the door before colliding against the bar with a thud.

Bradley groaned at the impact, not in the mood to deal with anything else tonight that could worsen the foul mood he was already in.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry. Are you okay?” You screeched, looking up at him with alerted eyes, cheeks flushed a rosy tint – partly out of embarrassment, and partly from the alcohol you’d consumed, meeting up with your friends from work after a busy week.

As soon as he heard your voice, he didn’t need to look down at you to know that you’d be the most beautiful woman he’s ever met in his life. But still, he couldn’t help himself and as his eyes met yours, he immediately knew wanted you. He wanted you in every way possible. Everything already felt so different. Too stunned to speak, and his mind blank, you were perfect to him.

Now, Bradley didn’t believe in fate, and he certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, at least not until the night he met you. But that all changed so fast, and Bradley found himself sat at the bar with you until closing, drinking beer after beer – misery long forgotten and the beginnings of the most beguiling relationship starting to bloom.

The relationship progressed fast.

You both went on your first date a week later. It was simple, but perfect. Bradley picked you up from your apartment with a bunch of flowers, dressed in his father’s shirt - the same shirt he couldn’t bear to look at when he was younger. You answered the door in a white sundress, hair falling naturally around your shoulders with a bright smile on your face that had Bradley’s heart racing. After having to endure a 10-minute interrogation from your best friend, you followed Bradley out to his Bronco and drove down to the beach where you had a picnic and watched the sunset, lying on your backs next to each other on an old picnic blanket on the sand.

Your face mirrored his own, both of your hearts pounding against your chests, synchronised with one another. Hands shaking and smiling at each other through tight lips, breaths shallow, bodies vibrating. Eyes ablaze with a burning desire, thinking of all of the possibilities, reserved from seeming too eager to admit how both of you felt, feelings reciprocated. But knowing, you were it for each other.

About a month into your relationship with Bradley, one torturous month of being nagged by the squad on when they were going to meet you, but one incredible month spent with you, he took you to the Hard Deck to meet up with his friends for drinks. All was going well, and Bradley felt content in knowing you were already comfortable around the people he considered family.

“Bradshaw! You never told us your girl was that hot.” Hangman stood next to him, handing him the darts, a smirk on his face.

“Shut up Bagman, just because you lack the brain capacity to keep a girl around for more than a week.” Phoenix scoffed, slapping him on the chest before patting Bradley’s arm sympathetically.

Bradley knew to pay no mind to Jake, but as he watched you laughing with Bob and Javy by the bar in a pretty pink sundress, sipping on a cocktail too sweet for him to fathom, he couldn’t help but let the insecurities creep in. He felt like the luckiest man alive to be your boyfriend, and he was proud to call you his girlfriend, but he constantly carried that heavy burden of how he felt about himself with him. Sometimes he could supress it, put on a brave face and everyone sees him as the most confident person in whatever room he’s in. But Bradley could never truly talk about how he felt, every syllable of every word that’s willing its way out of his mouth, pushing his head further underwater – looking in the mirror and seeing the scars along his face and neck, carved into his skin like a malediction, something he was precariously wishing he could remove.

“Hey Roos, you okay?” Bradley didn’t even realise you’d made your way over to him until he heard your voice and felt your hand reach up to smooth over his hair, so transfixed on his inner thoughts.

He hummed, kissing your forearm, and then talking your free hand in his own. Just seeing your face with concern written all over it was enough for his heart to nearly burst out of his chest.

It was well past 1am when the Hard Deck closed for good, and Bradley led you out to his bronco and put your seatbelt on. Before he could move around to the driver’s side, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. “Thank you for tonight, I had a really nice time with your friends. Even though Jake’s a bit of a dick” Bradley chuckled “I’m glad you had a good time and I’m happy you’re happy. They all love you.” Bradley caught himself on his words after that. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how he knew he loved you from the moment he saw you and how he was certain he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you. Neither of you had said it yet, but you often found yourself wanting to say it too. You both drove home in a comfortable silence, Bradley’s hand resting gently on your thigh, the windows slightly ajar and the radio playing quietly but those three words had been hanging in the air, urging to be said the whole ride home.

Bradley parked up outside and you led him into your apartment. You both changed out of your clothes, and you threw on one of Bradleys old UVA shirts that he’d left at your place. “You coming to bed?” Bradley said quietly as he pulled you into a hug and rested his chin on top of your head.

“Yeah, I just need to take of my makeup and stuff.” You said pulling away to head towards the bathroom. “And stuff?” Bradley asked and you giggled. “Yeah, like skincare. Fancy joining me?” You asked and you shrieked when Bradley picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, carrying in you into the bathroom and setting you down on the counter without saying a word. You washed your face and picked up your serums and moisturiser, talking Bradley through your skincare routine whilst he stared at you as if you had grown three heads. Bradley watched you squirt some of the serum onto your hand and rub it all over his face. He closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders, letting out a deep breath. It was his turn to apply it to your face next and by the end of the routine you were both a giggling mess, breaths heavy with laughter. And in that moment, Bradley forgot about his scars, he forgot about all of his insecurities. He was at his happiest with you, and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Still sat on the counter, you pulled Bradley closer and rested your forehead against his looking into his eyes with such a deep admiration for how truly beautiful he was.

“I love you, Bradley.”

And there it was. Those three simple words with the most powerful meaning. Bradley felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs, winded like the time he fell off the slide in his backyard at six years old.

“Say that again.” Bradley murmured, hands tightening their grip on your waist.

“I love you, Bradley. So much.”

And with that, Bradley smashed his lips onto yours in a bruising kiss.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you.” He repeated, over and over again until you were back in your bedroom. Placing you down on your bed, he covered his body with yours. You moaned into the kiss and gasped as he left a trail of kisses down your neck and chest. He slipped his hand under the hem of your dress and began toying with the waistband of your underwear, when you sucked in a breath, he stopped immediately, brown eyes searching yours for any kind of discomfort.

“Do you want this? We can stop baby I really don’t mind.”

“No, I want this Bradley, I do.” You said and he made light work of pulling off your dress and ridding himself of his shirt and pants before kissing you again, hooking his fingers in your underwear and pulling them down your legs. Bradley teased your clit before sinking one of his digits into your soaked pussy and kissing your hip before taking your sensitive bud into his mouth. “Fuck Bradley.” You moaned, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he squeezed your him in a comforting encouragement. Gripping his hair tightly, your climax quickly approaching you moaned loudly “Oh my god I love you Bradley fuck!”

Coming down from your high, Bradley teased your folds with the head of his cock before slowly pushing himself fully into you and you both moaned. “You feel amazing, sweet girl, I love you.” Bradley moaned against your mouth, intertwining his hand with your own before slowly rocking his hips into your own. You were a mess underneath him, whimpering and whining and Bradley took a moment to admire how beautiful you looked, the moment was so raw, the only light in the room was the dim glow of the moon which illuminating your features.

It was at this moment that Bradley realised that the confessions of love shared that night were terrifying, and they scared him more than anything else he’s ever experienced in his life. The emotions he felt consumed his body like an entity and he knew that the easiest choice he’s ever made in his life was you. Out of all of the women in this world, he didn’t want anyone else as much as he wanted you, he didn’t need anyone else as much as he needed you. You both spent that night wrapped up in each other, bodies tangled between the sheets in a state of completion, reassurance, and love. There was nothing in the world that could ruin such a deep connection.

For the next three months of the relationship, Bradley knew he could see himself spending the rest of his life with you. Moving in together, he wanted to be your new home. He wanted to build a life with you, make four walls and a roof into something so much more than just a place of residence. He dreamt of waking up next to you every morning and falling asleep next to you every night. He wanted to help you cook your favourite foods together and he wanted to clean the dishes. He wanted to argue over where the candles were kept when there’s a storm and the power goes out. He wanted you to fill him with memories of your own, pictures of your graduation, you most treasured trinkets, the spicy books you read that he pokes fun at you for when you get defensive and say that you don’t read just porn, it has to have a plot.

After years of accepting the fact that he’d be alone because he could never have someone else endure the grief, the pain, and the suffering that he watched his mother go through, he met you, and he was irrevocably and deeply consumed by you. He dreamt of the day you had a child of your own together, the beach days, the baking, the singalongs in the car, babyproofing every corner of the house he wanted that. And he so desperately wanted that with you by his side.

And that’s exactly what you both did. You bought a house together along the coast, one that reminded him exactly of the house that he grew up in, with a big porch and a swing that hung just to the left of the front door. You both packed up your lives into those brown moving boxes, messy handwriting scrawled onto the side of each of them.

Unpacking said boxes in the height of summer was a gruelling task, but one that was made much more enjoyable by the presence of each other ands by the end of the day you both collapsed on the porch swing, happy and content in each other’s arms.

“I’ve never felt as happy anywhere else than when I’m with you sweet girl.” Bradley said, nuzzling his head into your hair, treasuring the scent so not to forget it when he inevitably gets deployed.

“This is our forever baby.” You said intertwining your hand with his as you both sat cuddled up with one another listening to the waves of the ocean crashing and making plans for your future.

Two months settled into your new home with Bradley, two months of the rest of your lives. Lives that entailed lazy Sundays, coffees in the morning, walks along the beach, lingering sweet kisses amid pillow talk and making love – and all things perfect. But also lives that weren’t always bright, lives that held bickering, late night fights over pointless things because you both had tough days at work, misunderstandings, and the challenges of balancing busy days. Some days were filled with bright skies and sunshine, other days filled with dark skies and rain. It wasn’t easy, but you had Bradley and Bradley had you. There was calm and there was chaos, but you had each other to navigate your ways through any problem, together.

But sometimes, the best things in life are short lived.

Bradley spent 190 days with the love of his life.

Standing in the Hard Deck with a bunch of flowers, waiting for you to pull up after work, he fiddled with the ring in his free hand and let out a shaky breath. You hadn’t been in a relationship for a very long time, but they say when you know, you know. And Bradley knew. He knew in his heart without a doubt – even if he couldn’t find the right words, he knew that he fell more in love with you every single day. You were his sun, his moon, and his stars. You were his happiness, his best friend, and the kindest soul he had ever met. Sometimes he wondered if he ever told you enough. You never asked anything of him. You loved Bradley for who he was and never in his 36 years on earth did he ever think that somewhere in this world he would’ve found a heart like yours.

Bradley didn’t get the chance to propose. His time with you was cut short by an alcoholic who made the unwise decision to get behind the wheel of a car and take away not one, but two lives that night.

“Bradley!” You wailed from the top of the stairs. Bradley shot up from his seat on the couch and ran up the stairs tripping several times.

“What is it baby? Are you okay?” He asked, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath, not overly concerned when he saw that you were okay.

Looking at him with tears in your eyes, body shaking, and one hand covering your mouth, you raised your other hand to reveal a positive pregnancy test.

“Oh my god, honey, are you – are you sure?” He asked, reaching out to take the test from you to double, triple check.

Nodding your head fervently “I’m absolutely sure, Bradley we’re going to have a baby. Oh god”

Bradley had never been so over the moon. Yes, it was seen as too soon to some, but you couldn’t think of any better blessing, and neither could Bradley. You were both ecstatic and couldn’t wait to start a family together. And that was all taken away from him too soon. He’ll never get to meet his baby. And he wishes, he wishes so hard for the 3am wake up calls for feeds, the dirty diapers, the screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night – all so he can count ten fingers and ten toes, hear that steady heartbeat, and look into the eyes of who he was hoping to be your double. But sometimes life has other plans.

Bradley can’t say he believes he will ever meet another person like you. Someone so full of light even in the darkest of moments. Someone who loved him for him. Someone who would give so much of themselves to others and never complain. Someone who saw the good in everything, saw the good in him.

The one night he’ll remember for the rest of his life, the night you lay in bed together, Bradley’s head resting on your stomach, your hands tracing the patterns of the freckles on his back like a constellation. The two of you dwelling in the afterglow of finding out that you were both going to be bringing a little one of your own into your lives, a mixture of you both, your baby. Bradley was ecstatic but anxious.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the good that you see in me” He whispered.

“Bradley, its not the good in you that I see, my love. It’s the good that I see in this world when I’m with you, the good that you make me see.”

If there was ever one thing Bradley Bradshaw was completely and utterly sure of, it was that he was going to spend the rest of his life by himself. He had spent his whole life trying to push away the idea of love because he believed he would be the reason it wouldn’t work out. He had spent his whole life overcome with the grief that came with losing his parents. And he was okay with being alone, until he met you, an angel he believed his parents sent to him, to walk this earth by his side, for however long it was going to be. And despite his time being cut short with you, he had the most extraordinary and captivating experience of understanding what it’s like to love and be loved.

Taglist:

@aistash

@minichrismd

@roosterforme

@roosterscockpit

[katsu28]

🍭 oooo something angsty with bradley 'rooster' bradshaw and “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

thank you for requesting anna!! <3 this is my first angst with rooster so i hope it's good :)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, some swearing, angst, 1.7k (she's a long one ik hehe)

You never really wanted Bradley to know how much you missed him when he was gone. Your worries tended to consume you and a lot of the time it showed, even though you tried your best to remain neutral on your sporadic video calls with him. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you when he was out there in the skies. He needed complete and total focus, and you knew that, but sometimes you couldn’t help it. 

He looked beyond tired when he appeared on your laptop screen today—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders sagging under an intense invisible weight that you’d never truly understand, the whole nine yards. But he still brightened when he saw you, somehow still managing to look like a dream despite his clear exhaustion and the grainy video quality.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” He said, adjusting his screen until his head was fully in view. “Hi honey, how are you?” 

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” You chuckled. “How are you? Are you getting enough sleep? Eating okay?” 

“Yes ma’am.” You suspected he was lying just to please you, but you’d let it slide this time. You were going to see him in a few weeks, you could rag on him then. With love, of course. “I saw the picture you emailed last week, by the way. I hope you bought that dress, ‘cause as good as it looked on you, it’s gonna look so much better on the bedroom floor when I get home.” 

“Bradley!” You hissed, cheeks growing hot. 

“What?” He asked incredulously, shit-eating grin very present on his face. “I can’t admire my gorgeous girlfriend anymore?” 

“Not like that when there’s other people around!” 

“Oh, come on, they don’t care. Coyote, you mind if I love on my girl a little bit right now?” 

“I’m not even in the room.” came Coyote’s voice, probably paired with an amused smirk. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Javy.” You sighed, sinking a little lower in your chair in embarrassment. Bradley was entirely comfortable around his fellow naval aviators, as he should be, but that didn’t mean you wanted any of them to hear your conversation with your boyfriend. “Maybe we could continue this conversation another time and talk about something else while I have you here?” 

“Don’t be shy, baby. It’s just Coyote here, if it makes you feel any better.” It didn’t. “He’s waiting to talk to his mom.” Cute, but still uncomfortable. 

“I don’t think—” 

“It’s not like I showed him the picture. We’re just talking!” He chuckled, grinning cheekily. 

“I feel like you’re not really listening to me right now, Bradley.” You blurted, feeling a pang of guilt shoot through you right after. He was out there only god knows where and here you were making a fuss because your feelings were a little hurt. But that was rule number one of having a partner overseas: make sure they know how you feel. Be firm but gentle. 

He sobered up instantly, sitting forward in his seat with an intent look aimed at you. “Okay. Sorry.” He looked offscreen, muttered something you couldn’t make out, and when you heard the shutting of a door, you knew he’d just shooed Coyote out of the room so the two of you could talk in private. “You’ve got me now, I’m listening. What’s wrong?” 

“I just…I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, sweetheart. So much.” Bradley said solemnly. He tilted his head. “That’s not it though, is it?” 

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” You shook your head, smiling at him. Or trying to, really. Bradley could always see right through you. 

“No you’re not. C’mon, sweet girl, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I’m worried.” You admitted. 

“About?” 

“You.” 

His expression turned reassuring, tone soft and as soothing as it could be through the static warping it. “Hey, you don’t have to be, y’know. I’m in good hands over here, okay? I’m gonna be totally fine.” 

I’m gonna be totally fine. That should’ve been enough to reassure you, but after the last time he’d said something along the same lines ended with him in the hospital for a few weeks, it didn’t. 

“I just want you to be careful, that's all.” 

“I’m always careful.” He nodded. “Just pretend I’m right there with you, it’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah well, you’re not here, Bradley. Easier said than done.” Your words were entirely a heat of the moment thing, but the clench of his jaw at the statement was enough for you to know that you’d just stepped in it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I wanna be away from you all the time? That it’s easy for me? This is my job, Y/N, I can’t just say no when they tell me I have to leave.” He said, voice strained and low. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah. Right. You didn’t mean it at all, sure. Of course you didn’t. You just don’t trust me, do you?” 

“No, I—” 

“No, you don’t trust me?”

“Will you let me finish, Bradley?” You huffed, letting out a sharp breath. 

“You think I’m reckless.”

This was why you didn’t even want to bring your worries up in the first place. Bradley had a tendency to lash out when he was upset or felt cornered, jumping to conclusions because he didn’t know what else to do. It was something he assured you he was actively working on, but when things got a little tense, he seemed to revert right back to his ways.

“Sometimes, yeah!” Shit. You hadn’t meant for that to come out either. Out the window went rule number two: don’t spend the limited screen time you have arguing with your partner. A muscle in Bradley’s jaw ticked. “Damnit, I didn’t mean to—” 

“I think we should talk about this another time. Neither of us are in the headspace to have this conversation right now.” He said, weirdly calm. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything to try and fix the shitshow you’d just stirred up, alarm bells sounded faintly from the background of Bradley’s side of the call. His back went ramrod straight, your blood ran cold. Something was wrong. 

“Bradley, what’s going on? What’s happening over there?” 

He looked around, craning his neck to listen if he could hear anything else that would clue him in. “I don’t know. We should’ve been in the clear by now, I don’t know what—” 

Bradley disappeared from your screen before he could finish his worryingly panicked sentence, leaving you staring at your own reflection where he just was a split second ago. 

A message flashed across the previously blank screen. 

Your call has been disconnected. 

“No, no, no, no, fuck,” You breathed, dragging your finger back and forth on the trackpad frantically. Nothing. You tried calling him back. Still nothing. Then it began to set in. 

What if something really did happen and this was the one time he didn’t come home?  That might’ve been your last call with Bradley and you wasted it on some stupid argument that seemed so insignificant now despite it happening mere seconds ago. You didn’t even get to tell him you loved him.

You might never get to tell him you loved him ever again. 

-------

There was nothing but radio silence on Bradley’s end for the remainder of the mission, and it was agony for you. You weren’t sure if he was okay, you weren’t even sure if he was alive, but you knew you had to go on as usual. Because if you stopped even for a second to think about what did or didn’t happen the last time you saw him, you weren’t sure if you’d make it to find out. 

You were up out of bed the second you heard the front door slam shut in the distance the day Bradley was scheduled to come home, hurrying down the hall. Bradley was standing stock still in the foyer, eyes flitting around at his surroundings until they landed on you. 

His duffel dropped to the floor with a dull thump, shoulders drooping, and when he met your gaze, his eyes were rimmed red. He looked a mess, as you were sure you did too, but the only thing that ran through your mind was that he was here. 

You rushed forward, all but throwing yourself into his arms with a cry. “I’m sorry, Bradley. I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said, I never meant to—” 

“Hey, shhh, it's okay baby,” Bradley soothed, lips pressed against your temple as his arms tightened around you. “I know. I know you didn't mean it, I didn’t mean it either. It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened and the last thing I said to you was…” You couldn't even finish your sentence before a choked sob ripped through your chest, your hands fisting themselves into his jacket in a poor attempt to ground yourself. “I didn’t even know if you were—you were okay, or if—” You inhaled a shuddering breath, fighting another sob. 

“I’m fine, I promise. Our comms got knocked out, but we were fine,” He assured you, stroking a hand up and down the curve of your spine. He cradled the back of your head gently but firmly, his other hand the weight that you desperately needed to reassure you that he was here. “I hated that I couldn't call you back, but I’m okay, honey. I'm okay, I’m right here.” 

Bradley leaned his forehead against yours, taking your hands as soon as you stopped clinging to him and pressing them against his face so you could feel the warmth of his skin, the stubble on his cheeks, his calloused palms on the back of your hands. 

“I love you, Bradley.” 

“I love you with everything I’ve got, sweet girl.” He said, kissing the inside of your wrist tenderly. You smiled through your tears. “Are we okay?” He murmured, eyes searching yours for any semblance of an answer. You kissed him hard instead of responding, hoping that he would see that you didn’t care about whatever the hell you were arguing about anymore. It didn’t even matter, all that mattered was that he came home to you. 

He looked dazed when you pulled away, blinking at you dumbly for a split second before grinning at you. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, let’s go see that dress, hm? See if it looks even better in person.” 

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be exasperated at his cheekiness.

[saltsicklover]

Slamming Doors - BRB - Broken House

This was written as a oneshot but I have an idea on how to expand the story if there is interest for it! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you!

Title: Slamming Doors

Series: Broken House

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, sick parent, car crash, pet names, lots of crying, lots of yelling, ANGST, misunderstandings.

Doors aren't meant to raddle on their hinges. Doors aren't meant to be slammed that hard. 

Honey like to think it's always better to be on the in swing of the door, rather than on the out swing. 

If she is on the in swing, Bradley would be storming in. It is like this often, the picture frame hung next to the door perpetually crooked from how often that damn front door is slammed. The corners of that frame are even chipped from the time or two it hit the tile floor. 

At least, if he is coming home, she has a chance to calm him down. To take his face in her hands and comfort the man she loves. To kiss his lips and agree that the Captain is a dumbass who doesn't have a damn clue about how to do his job. She is always there to comfort him, to take the weight of the day off of his shoulders when things have been bad. 

Hell, it isn't even always bad. Sometimes, maybe more often than sometimes, Hangman or Phoenix would be toting Bradley in, his arm held tightly over their shoulder, and he would drunkenly kick the door shut, the front of the house rattling with the abrupt closure. He would slur his words and hiccup, but always be happy to leave his friend's arms the moment he spots her. 

It is different now, though. 

Now, Honey is on the out swing. Bradley has her walking out after a fight, too heated to work it out. 

The front door slams again, the picture frame rattling lightly against the wall. Bradley walks into the living room before dropping his duffle bag in front of the couch. It is filthy, he is filthy. The arms of his flight suit are tied low on his hips, his white t-shirt completely stained with grease and gear lubricant. It looks angry, deep brown and jet black against the stark white of the cotton. Days like this, Honey would be in his arms as soon as his bag hits the floor, but today is different. 

Honey stands on the other side of the room, her back to her lover. 

Bradley and Honey are somewhere between whole heartedly committed and casual. She practically lives in his small home with him when he isn't away on deployment and there to take care of his plants when he is. It has been this way for almost two years, a little house right down the road from the beach in Pensacola. 

NAS Pensacola isn't home to Bradley, and Florida isn't home to either of them. They met by happenstance, both stranded in a storm at a little bar-motel in Maryland. He was there for work, she was there trying to track down information on her father. One drink turned into three, one night turned into a long weekend, and the two have been intertwined ever since. Honey followed him to Florida, still on her search for her father, who she never called by name. She'd said it was too painful and she wasn't ready to talk about him until she could talk to him. They hadn't intended on dating, and Honey had intended on getting the information she was looking for and then be moving on. But they had to go and fall in love. 

"Honey?" Bradley finally looks up at her, taking in the slump of she shoulders. The whole energy in the house wrong. There is no candle burning on the coffee table, the blinds aren't open to let the sun in, and Honey hadn't found her way into his arms yet. Something is most definitely wrong. 

He bends down to untie his boots as he waits for his lover to answer his call. She doesn't move to turn around, nor does she say a word. Her eyes are locked on the photo of Bradley and Nick, his father, that is hanging up on the wall. In it, Bradley sits atop Nick's shoulders, both wearing grins so big she could practically see the ache in their cheeks. Her eyes trace over the frame, then Bradley, down to Nick, then back up again to repeat the process. Honey has been standing there, eyes glued to the photo for the better part of the last hour.  

Before she found herself in front of the photograph on the wall, she had been staring at the photo in her hand for much too long. She has been holding it so long that there are fingerprints on the glossy side of the photo, both in full and partial prints not kept to the edges. 

Honey had been dusting the mantle earlier that afternoon, her body poised on a stepstool to get the shelves above the fireplace too. As she was cleaning, she bumped a framed photograph of Bradley and his mother, Carole, posed together on his High School graduation, shortly before she had passed away. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his frame, partly out of love, partly to keep herself standing upright. She had insisted on standing for the photo, even though Bradley wanted her to stay in her wheelchair. 

Bradley had told Honey about his mother so many times before. He loved showing her the photographs and telling her stories. He is so proud of his parents; but Honey knew he was a Mama's boy. That was likely because she was the only parent he had for a majority of his life, between deployments and his father's untimely passing. 

The relationship he had with his Mother was special. It was something that allowed Bradley and Honey to bond over when they first began dating. Her father walked out on her and her Mother before she had her first birthday. Honey was a Mama's girl too- her Mother passed away five years prior due to a driving accident. Black ice in the middle of winter was no joke, and Honey's mother should not have been out driving in the first place. 

Both effectively orphans, the pair bonded quickly. Lack of family tended to do that to people. 

Bradley tired to get Honey to talk about her father, to share just a little bit of information about him. All he ever managed to learn was his Navy association. He grimaced when he found out, knowing just how many deadbeats there are in the Military. 

After Honey had knocked the photograph off the shelf with her elbow, it hit the floor and shattered. It took her ages to clean up the glass, and she even managed to save the photo of Bradley and his mother from being ruined. What she was not expecting was the photograph hidden behind it. 

In her hand, she clutches a photo of Pete Mitchell and Bradley at his high school graduation, both smiling and happy. Bradley has the hope for his whole future in his eyes, that much is clear enough to see. Pete has an arm around Bradley, pulling him close as he holds a photo of Nick in his other hand.

The photograph lead her to where she stands now, unwavering in her place, even as Bradley calls her name again.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Bradley crosses the room, his untied shoelaces hitting against his boots with small clinks from the plastic aglets. He reaches a hand out to her, gently pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Honey?" 

She turns to him, eyes glassy. The sight of Bradley swims, tears distorting her vision. Her cheeks are red, like she has been straining to hold back her tears. Quickly, he eyes the rest of her form, taking her in in her entirety, trying to pinpoint her distress. His eyes land on the photo she has creased in hand. Gently, he takes the photo from her hand before pulling her into his chest. 

The grease smeared shirt across his chest becomes a home for a lose tear as he brings her into his frame, her face pressing into the expanse of his chest, near his shoulder. 

"I broke a frame while I was cleaning," Honey begins, her voice so quiet he almost misses it, "I'm sorry, Bradley," 

"Oh, Honey," Bradley coos lightly, "You don't have to be sorry, it's okay. The frame can be replaced, no need to be upset, Sweet Girl,"

Honey sniffles against his chest, bringing a hand up to try and brush a tear from the fullness of her cheek. She almost chides him for thinking she would be upset over something so small, but she can't find it in her to make the joke out loud. 

Bradley smiles to himself, thinking about how caring his girl is, but the smile immediately disappears as he looks at the photo he had taken from her moments before. This is not the photo that was on display. Bradley would never have a photo of Maverick up in his house, not after the older man pulled his papers for the academy. Absolutely not. 

"Honey," Bradley pulls back, his eyes glued on the photo, "Where did you get this?" 

"It was in the back of the frame- behind the- behind the photo of you and your Mom," She hiccups through the sentence, anxiety rising up in her chest again. The taste of bile is sour on her tongue as she looks over Bradley's expression. His brows are furrowed, eyes narrow and angry as he locks eyes with the photograph. 

"Who is that?" Honey asks, even though she already knows. 

"Pete Mitchell," Bradley's voice is laced with so much venom it gives her goosebumps. She raises her eyebrows but Bradley doesn't need prompting to continue. "He flew with my Dad, was the reason for his accident. If they didn't have to eject, my father would still be here today. And then, when I applied for the Academy, he derailed my career by years when he pulled my papers. I haven't spoken to him since," 

A noncommittal hum is the only thing Honey can muster in response. Honey can feel her skin flush hot and cold but tries to push the feeling aside. 

"I need to talk to you about something," Honey's words sound heavy coming off of her tongue. The tone snaps Bradley's eyes right up to her, the picture being abandoned on the coffee table. 

"What is it?" 

There are so many things Honey wants to say. She wants to plead for Bradley to tell her everything he knows about Maverick. There is a part of her, deep inside, that is still eight years old, still the same little girl who realized for the first time that her father wasn't coming back not because he couldn't but because he didn't want to.  

Honey wants to tell Bradley that Maverick is her father, to explain that the man standing next to him, clad in a leather jacket and dark washed jeans is her father. The man who didn't want her. She wants to bond over their appeared shared hatred of the man. Honey wants to curse his name and burn every photo of him that the two are in possession of. She wants to say fuck you to Pete Mitchell all together, with the man she loves by her side. 

But instead, the words that leave her mouth are much, much worse. 

"You can't talk about your father anymore," 

The words aren't tactful, but they aren't exactly a lie either. She has always had a hard time listening to Bradley talk about Nick. There has always been something so fucking bitter inside of her whenever he would talk about him. The knowledge that her father is a Naval Aviator, just as Bradley's had been was just too close for comfort for her. But now? Knowing that the stories of his father are also stories of her father. That broke her. 

"Excuse me?" 

The statement catches Bradley off guard so much he almost feels dizzy. If it weren't for the clunky air conditioning unit in the window behind Honey humming away, he might've blamed the feeling on stifling Floridian humidity. But, unfortunately for them both, he heard her correctly. 

"That's not what I meant! Shit!" Honey starts, but Bradley's expression doesn't turn any more pleasant. 

"I mean, fuck, I can't listen to you talk about your father anymore!" That sentence isn't any better. Honey can hear her own blood rushing through her ears, the same way she can feel the heat rising to her face with it. 

"What?" 

The venom is back in Bradley's voice, anger is beginning to boil behind the color in his eyes. Suddenly Honey wishes she could rewind time, just two fucking minutes. 

If there is one thing for sure, Honey may just be fragile like that picture frame, but Bradley is fragile like a bomb. 

Bradley's fists ball at his sides, knuckles going white as he squeezes them tight. Honey can't take her eyes from his face, from the vein that bulges in the side of his neck. She notices how his lip curls forward, his mustache sloping downward with his frown. 

"I just-" Honey takes a deep breath; it's ragged as it goes in and back out, catching on the broken pieces of her heart, "I can't have flashbacks from memories that aren't mine- I can't have this image in my mind of a man that I didn't know," 

Bradley is fuming now, listening to the words as they come out of his lover's mouth. He already had a shit day, having come down on new assignment back to TOP GUN. He didn't want to tell Honey, worried about what she might say. Worried that she might not pack up her life and go with him, or worse, that she wouldn't be here waiting for him to come back. 

Honey isn't explaining herself well, but he doesn't know that, nor can he calm down enough to figure out exactly what she is talking about. At face value, she is bad mouthing his father, the great Nick Bradshaw, mother Goose, and Bradley won't stand for that. He misses the words coming out of her mouth and the new tears that have made their way down her cheeks. 

"Shut up!" Bradley yells, his hands coming up to grip tightly in his hair. The words cut Honey off mid-sentence, and she obeys the command, more out of stunned compliance than choice. 

"Brad-" 

"No!" He points a finger right into her face, anger fully taking him over. He hasn't been this angry since Mav pulled his papers, the almost forgotten feeling burning beneath his skin. Honey's lip quivers, but she pulls it into her mouth, between her teeth to keep him from seeing it. "You do not get to stand here, in my house, and talk shit about my father!" 

"No! Brad-" Honey holds out her hands, pleading for him to just listen, for just one second. Just long enough for her to get this mess of a miscommunication figured out. 

"Enough!" Bradley's voice practically shakes the room, "Get out!" 

"What?" Honey's voice is so unbelievably small now, like she doesn't trust herself to speak. 

"Get. Out. Now." Bradley can barely look at her. Honey knows when she has lost a fight. So, she moves past him, grabbing her purse from the couch on her way past. She makes it to the door, her hand still on the handle before she speaks one last time.

"You like to think you are so much like your father, all good heart and good man, but in reality, you are just like mine," 

Honey slams the door behind her, the sound echoing though the house. She doesn't stop long enough to hear the picture frame fall from it's place on the wall, the glass shattering against the tile. 

There is too much left unsaid, the words that made it out taken to far and just wrong. Nick was the kind of man she always wished her father would have been. Kind, good, loving. And when she didn't find that in her own father, she found it in Bradley instead. Bradley liked to say that his father would have loved her, enough for both himself and her father combined, and she believed it too. But now, as she walks away from Bradley, she can't help but know just how disappointed Nick would be in her. 

Because, doors aren't meant to raddle on their hinges. Doors aren't meant to be slammed that hard. And now, Honey knows exactly just how much better things are on the in swing of that front door. 

[lcahwriter]

Stop

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Reader (non- descriptive, no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: mentions of death, sex (not smut, but still some sex) , 18+ please!

Summary:

You have to tell Bradley to stop during sex - because your mind is plagued with images of him not coming home.

Comfort ensues.

Authors Note: Short angst/ comfort that I couldn’t get out of my head🥺 Hope you enjoy💗 As always comments are appreciated 💗

Sex with Bradley was always full of desire and undeniable warmth.

When the sex was soft and slow it was full of lingering touches on naked skin, and shivers of unadulterated pleasure.

When the sex was rough and fast it was enveloped with tantalizing kisses and desperate touches.

When you made love, nothing else mattered. His touch was enough to distract you from reality- enough to ease your pain on your worst days.

But tonight, nothing was enough to distract you from the anxiety and deep dread you felt.

You thought sex would help your aching heart - it had always mended it before.

But Bradley was on top of you now, kissing your neck sweetly- and your mind was somewhere else.

Your brain was betraying you with horrific images.

Bradley’s lifeless body floating somewhere in the ocean completely alone- never to be recovered.

You crying over an empty coffin, realizing that your love is gone and that you’re completely alone.

You couldn’t save him - you had no control.

“Love you so much.” Bradley murmured in your ear softly, continuing his kissing on your chest and jaw.

His voice brought you back to reality.

Shivers of pleasure rippled up your spine as his arm slipped under your back, pulling your breasts flesh against his naked chest.

You looked into his deep honey eyes, cherishing them - alive, full of desire - love.

You hastily attacked his lips with yours, pulling yourself even closer to his body. Your arms were wrapped around his back, gripping onto him tightly, like if you let go you’d lose him forever.

Your bodies rocked against each others, kissing with undeniable passion - both knowing Bradley wouldn’t be here in a weeks time.

His large hand slowly lifted your thigh to the side. His warm dick nudged your entrance , causing pleasure to roll through you.

You wanted him - you needed to feel the love he had to give. You craved the feeling of him inside you.

The feeling of him being completely yours , and you being completely his.

His head fell into your shoulder as he thrusted into you slowly, but deeply. Your toes tingled with pleasure, and you relaxed at the familiar fullness you felt.

You wanted to be like this forever with him- never thinking of death or pain. In complete bliss.

Without warning, images of Bradley’s lifeless body filled your brain.

And they wouldn’t cease.

Your heart thudded with anxiety, rather than pleasure. And your throat grew a heavy lump, and you felt sobs threatening to rise.

Dead. He would die on this mission.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Lifeless eyes.

No more of his smiles, singing or laughing.

Just death - all for nothing.

Bradley’s pace picked up, but pleasure was no longer building in you.

You were too far removed from reality - in the worst way.

“Baby.” You croaked out. Your hands were still gripping Bradley’s naked back, and your cheek was pressed into his chest.

“Yeah?” His voice panted out softly, his thrusts slowing down slightly.

Your body betrayed you, and you started to tremble. Everything was too much - the anxiety - the sadness - even Bradley’s touch.

“Stop please.” You whispered, as a cry came crawling up your throat.

It was the first time you’d ever asked him to stop - and you felt shame mixed with fear bubble in you. But you were too overwhelmed to care.

He pulled out of you instantly, his body off of you as soon as he processed your words.

You let go of him and let yourself fall back onto the pillows. Your vision was blurry and your chest was heaving with emotion.

“Fuck - baby - baby what’s wrong?” Bradley’s voice was panicked. His body was leaning over yours, his arms on either side of your body.

His dick was still hard with arousal, but the only thing he was focused on was you , and the fact that your breaths were getting shorter and shorter.

“Did I - did I hurt you?” He asked, and you watched as his eyes roamed your body in worry.

You shook your head at him and reached for his touch.

He quickly moved to lay next to you, longing to hold you close to him and to make whatever was hurting you, go away.

You instantly crawled on-top of his bare chest and wrapped your arms around him. His large hands rubbed your back softly as you cried.

“I’m sorry.” You croaked out inbetween sickening cries.

You shut your eyes harshly and gritted your teeth, willing yourself to calm down, to stop being so emotional. But everything was still too much.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.” Bradley reassured softly in your ear. His deep voice rumbled his chest, brining you some comfort.

“I’m sorry - I - I wanted to finish , I just got overwhelmed.” You tried to calm your cries, but it only half worked. Because your voice was still raw and tears were still pooling on Bradley’s chest.

“Shh , it’s alright. You can always ask me to stop baby.” His voice brought a steadiness to you - and just as a pleasant feeling appeared- anxiety washed over you again.

You could lose him. This could be the last time.

You gulped and clenched your jaw shut, pushing down the large sobs beneath.

“I kept thinking of you dead.” You choked on a sob. His body stiffened beneath you, and you felt his arms still on your back.

“Your jet kept getting shot down - and they could never find your body. But I could see it - I could see it in my head Bradley.”

The same fear and heartbreak you’d been feeling tore through you again. You winced as the same image of his lifeless body flashed in your head.

You squeaked in surprise as Bradley rolled you off of him. He laid on his side and tucked you deep into his chest, hugging you close. His legs were tangled between yours carefully.

“I’m right here.” His lips brushed against your ear. You felt the weight his chin rest on-top of your head.

“I know it’s scary. I’m scared too.” You felt the shaky breath he let out against your hair.

“But I promise I’ll do everything I can to come home to you.” He kissed your soft hair and you clenched your eyes shut.

He couldn’t promise you he would come home, he could only promise he would try his best to make it back.

And that tore you up inside - no, it did more than that. The fear of losing him ripped you open and spun you around until it made you vomit.

“Please come home.” You knew your voice sounded completely raw - and fucking terrified.

You wished you could be stronger, wished you could hold it together until he left your doorstep.

But it was all too much.

“I’ll come home to you.” His voice was determined and rough. His arms gripped around you and you nuzzled into him.

You nodded, trying to pretend that his answer meant he really would come home.

You both laid there in silence, holding each other , taking comfort from one another.

You exchanged soft kisses, unsure of whether they were out of lust or sadness.

You thought of earlier - when he was deep inside you. And you had been in another world.

Guilt gripped you, overpowering the sadness you’d been feeling.

You slowly pulled from Bradley, looking up into his soft eyes.

“I’m sorry for earlier - I - I was enjoying it I just- I was somewhere else.” You gnawed at your bottom lip with anxiety.

Bradley was shaking his head at you before you could continue.

“I always want you stop me if you aren’t fully with me, okay?” His eyes yes searched yours as he brushed his thumb against your cheek.

You nodded and raised your eyes to him.

He was the sweetest man you’d ever known. And that’s why you didn’t want to lose him - why you couldn’t lose him.

“I love you.” It came out as a whisper, but it might as well have been a declaration. Because you had never loved something as much as you loved him.

“I love you.” He echoed back to you softly.

You thought you saw tears in his eyes, but he pulled you into his chest before you could watch them fall.

You both fell asleep to the steady breathing of each other, dreaming of a day where fear wouldn’t fill either of your dreams.

[foreverrandomwritings]

🎉 congrats again!

How about Rooster, platonic with the possibility of turning the romantic? Do you know him? yeah, that’s what i thought...(defending a lover), [ RESCUE ]  for one muse to intervene upon seeing a third party making the other one uncomfortable (jealousy), and new beginnings (spring).

Branching Out

Summary: Your brother had been begging you to branch out more. When you finally decide you're ready, will everything go wrong? Who will come and save you in your time of need?

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x afab! Machado!Reader

Warnings: angst, assault, alcohol, bars, bruises and blood.

Word count: 1544

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

You were still pretty new to town, having moved to be with your brother since he recently got a permanent station out in Fightertown, California. Things in your relationship with your ex hadn’t been going great for a while. So when your brother mentioned possibly moving across the country to live with him you jumped at the opportunity. 

It had been about a month since you had taken up residence in his apartment. Within the first week you had found a job that had taken up all your time. So getting out there and experiencing the sunny state was put on hold as you continued to get settled. Your brother had been very insistent however that you branch off from his group of friends that you would spend time with when they had get togethers at their respective households. 

That’s how you wound up in a hole in the wall bar waiting for a girl from work to get there. She had been asking you to hang out since you had started working with her. You had been reluctant but had finally agreed to get your brother to leave you alone. She was almost fifteen minutes late at this point however. 

You glanced at your watch checking the time for the fifth time sighing as you saw the time. You debated leaving as another five minutes passed. As you drank the last sip of your drink you made to scoot out of the booth. But a hand came up to rest on the leather covered back of the seat. You stopped as they blocked your exit. Looking towards the person you saw a short lanky dirty blonde standing there. He gave you a smile that made your skin feel sticky and gross.

“Where are you running off to baby?” as he spoke you could smell cigarettes and cheap beer on his breath. 

“I’m heading home.” you told him simply.

“Why don’t you stay and have a drink with me?” he asked you as his eyes flicked towards your chest. You pulled your tank top up farther and gave him a disgusted look. 

“I can’t stay, I need to get out to my car. My husband is waiting for me.” You hoped the excuse would get him to leave you alone. But the reply didn’t seem to steer him away at all. 

“I’ve been watching you for a while and didn’t see anyone come in with you. You also don’t have a ring on that pretty little finger of yours either.” he reached out for your hand as he finished the sentence. You pulled it away quickly however, not wanting this man's hands on you. The thought of him having watched you gave you a sick feeling. 

“He just got here to pick me up. He’ll be expecting me out there soon. If I'm not out there then he’s going to come in looking for me.” You told him fear bubbling inside you. The look he was giving you made you think for a moment you weren’t going to make it out of this bar. 

“Well then let me walk you to your car. Wouldn’t want anything bad happening to someone so delicate as yourself.” he punctuated his sentence by gripping your upper arm and pulling you out of the booth harshly. Bile rose up your throat as you truly started to panic. 

“Let go of me.” you said as you tried to pry his fingers off your arm. But he only squeezed harder, giving you a toothy grin of his rooting teeth. Before he could say anything else a tall presence of mint and worn leather came up next to you. You turned and looked at the person standing beside you and relief flooded your body as you saw one of your brother's friends.  

“Do you know him?” he asked you as he glared at the guy's hand on your arm. You went to reply but the guy interrupted you.

“Why don’t you get lost.” he told the hawaiian shirt clad aviator.

“I wasn’t fucking asking you.” he said rudely as he made eye contact with you.

“No I don’t.” you told him quietly, he nodded his head once before he was focused back on the man. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought...” Then his fist was connecting with the guy's nose. A loud crack reverberated throughout the bar as blood gushed down his face. His grip on your arm went away as he brought his hand up to cover his nose. 

“Let’s go.” Bradley said as he looked at you again. You didn’t hesitate as you rushed towards the door. Bradley followed you closely and led you towards his Bronco when you finally exited into the humid night air. 

“My car is the other way.” you told him as you realized where you were going. 

“We’ll get it in the morning.” he told you, shaking his head. He opened your door as you approached the vehicle. You stood there for a moment hesitating to get in the SUV. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you, noticing your hesitation. You looked at him and were about to lie when your throat started to close up, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“You don’t need to say anything. Do you want a hug?” he opened his arms for you as he finished the question. You quickly collided with his chest. A quiet sob exiting your body as his arms wrapped around you. He rubbed your back as you shook. You weren’t sure how long you stood in his arms but you eventually stopped crying. You pulled back slowly, his arms dropping back towards his sides. He looked as though he wanted to pull back towards him, you doubted you would have protested the action. 

“Do you need anything? What can I do?” he asked you, looking over your body for anything wrong. His eyes caught sight of the bruise forming around your arm. A large red handprint clearly visible under the lampposts in the parking lot. His fists clenched and he almost turned back to go and laid a few more swings at the guy. But the sound of your sniffling had him pausing.

“Can you take me home to Javy.” you asked him barely above a whisper. He nodded quickly and you were climbing into your seat. He buckled your seat belt for you before closing your door and rounding the front of the car. 

“Your hand is hurt.” you said as your eyes noticed the bruising on his knuckles. 

“It’s alright.” he said, flexing his fingers. He thought about how lucky it was that he decided to go to a different bar tonight.

“Are you sure?” you asked him, worried about him being hurt because of you.

“I’m sure, would you like to listen to some music?” he asked you, changing the subject.

“Can you play How High The Moon by Ella Fitzgerald please?” it was a song that your mother would often sing to you while you were younger. The thought of the song brought you comfort as you thought about the way your arm hurt. You blinked and saw the way the man looked at you behind your eyelids. You took a breath and could still smell the cheap beer and cigarettes he reeked of. 

“Here you can pull it up.” he said, handing you his phone. You found the song quickly and the soothing voice of Ella Fitzgerald flowed out of the speakers. You sat quietly the rest of the way home, letting her voice sooth your thoughts. You desperately wanted a shower, needing to scrub the touch of him off you. 

“I’ll walk you to the door.” he said as you pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. You didn’t protest as he put the car in park and then came to open your door for you. You walked towards yours and your brother's apartment slowly. You wanted to soak up as much alone time with Bradley as you could. The only time you had spent together was in a group setting. You had both flirted with each other lightly but had never done anything to pursue the other. The whole brothers friend thing had always been a no go growing up and you didn’t know if you were allowed to cross that line as an adult. 

“Do you want me to go inside with you?” he asked as your door came into view. He didn’t want to leave your side. He knew pursuing his friend's younger sister was against the bro code. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you since the first time you met each other. 

“That’s alright, Javy should be home.” You told him as you brought out your keys. Turning them in the keyhole you heard the click of the door unlocking. Right before you pulled them out you turned to Bradley. He looked at you questioningly as you stared at him. You popped up onto your tiptoes and quickly kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you for helping me tonight Bradley.” you told him before you slipped through the door into the apartment. He brought a hand up to his cheek touching the spot your lips just met. You couldn’t wait to see each other again.

A/N: Holy fuck did I love writing this. Bradley saving the day is quickly becoming my new favorite thing. Thank you thank you thank you for this request.

Tags(open): @sylviebell @eternallyvenus

[goldustwomun]

hold me while you wait (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! pilot! reader

summary: when rooster goes down, you remember how you loved him, how that wasn’t enough, and how there was still so much left unsaid.

warnings: a whole lotta swearing, hurt, comfort, but a happy ending, ofc because i’m a little sappy bitch xx

wc: 2.9k+

note: i’ve been working on this for a few hours and i’m! finally done! enjoy my first fic EVER! it’s longer than i thought it would be but i just kept writing; likes & reblogs are super duper appreciated and please, if you have any and all feedback, send it my way! (but nicely, please, i’m sensitive) ALSO, if anyone has tips on formatting for tumblr, send them my way xx

ps. reader’s callsign is ‘honeydew’

You don’t remember how it all happened, who had told you, what you had said – only that the hollow feeling in your chest had worsened, a sense of uneasy calm spread through your very body. They were screaming your name, but you couldn’t hear it. 

So that was it? He’d gone and gotten himself killed?

Looking back, you think you might have been in shock. 

As a pilot, you learn to deal with high-stress situations. Now, if you were hurtling towards the Earth in an about-to-combust jet, you could probably talk yourself through it. Could breathe deep, count back from ten to calm the shaking of your fingers, speak the steps you needed to take to eject, slow and out loud – like you’d done countless times in training. 

If you were hurtling towards the Earth in an about-to-combust jet, you knew how to make it back to safety. 

But what you were scrambling to figure out was how to make it back from the loss, the hurt, and the words you wished you hadn’t heard. They didn’t teach that at flight school, now that you thought about it. Safety, now, was an unfathomable illusion you couldn’t even begin to hope for. It had gone down in the crash with them. 

So with no prior training for this exercise in life, it felt like a cavity eating away at your insides, and your throat stung from the bile threatening to make its escape.

You were going to be sick. Right there, in the control room. In front of Navy officers with decades of experience and the pins to show it. You were really on the verge of puking on them, in fact, if they didn’t move out of your way.

“I need to– I’m going to–” you tried to bite out, hand flying to your face as the other pushed the crowd gathered around you, away.

You legged it to the closest bathroom, emptying your guts into the basin. You don’t know when the gagging sounds pouring from your mouth turned into sobs, but the next thing you knew, you were huddled on the floor, shaking with silent tears.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He was gone and you hadn’t had a chance to apologise. It was all you could think about. Those two words that might have softened the blow, might have made the hurt a little more bearable. If he knew how you felt  – well, what more could you ask for? 

Death was an occupational hazard, you knew it, he did as well before he left. But the fact of the matter is that the reality of your work doesn’t exactly sink in until it touches – no, punches you in the gut with an intimate caress. 

“Honeydew? Open the door.” It was Hangman and you suddenly pleaded with your body to pass out to spare you from any further humility. “Cyclone told us about Mav. Open the door.”

You hadn’t dared to think, let alone speak, their names. He hadn’t mentioned Rooster, either. But why would he? You’d both kept the complexities of your relationships behind steel doors. 

No one needed to know just how messy it was in there, between the two of you. How, if things had gone differently, you might have walked down the aisle with the very man you were certain was now splattered against the mountain side. 

“Fuck off Jake,” you called through the door. “I’m not in the mood for any of your usual bullshit right now.” You tried (and failed) to hide just how much your voice was quivering, raw from the grief of it all. 

You heard him inhale, as if he were readying himself, before he pounded on the door, again, only more aggressively. “It wasn’t a question, kid, open the damn door.” 

You were already glaring at him through the scratched-up metal, but you couldn’t help but comply as you reached up from your place on the grimy floor to unlatch the lock. 

He opened it immediately, took one look at you and shook his head. He said, words blunt, “You look like shit.” 

You didn’t dignify his comment with a response, instead choosing to flip him off and continue to stare intensely at the ground. God, it irked you just how much you felt like an insolent teenager. You’d spent your entire career proving to your peers and superiors that you weren’t some hot-headed Mitchell offspring. You were more than your emotions, your past, your father. 

“You need to get yourself together, Honey. You can’t lock yourself away every time someone dies. This is our job. Shit happens. Good people die. Do you think Mav wou--”

He never finished his sentence because you’d already pinned him down with a glare so fierce he almost apologised on the spot. Almost, of course. He tried again, “Don’t give me that look. You know he wouldn’t want you to–”

“You have no fucking idea what he would have wanted,” you injected again. Standing up and brushing whatever dirt had clung to your uniform away, you stepped towards the door and stopped. 

With one last glance back at a gaping Hangman, looking grotesquely clean against the filth of the walls and the decaying yellow light, you took a steadying breath, counted back from ten, and returned to your quarters. 

Neither of you know how you let it get this bad. You’d always told each other, no matter what, you’d find a way to fix things. Rooster had experienced enough loss in his life to understand the importance of holding onto those you love. 

And fuck, did he love you.

Sometimes, when you’d both managed to find the time to make it back to Fighter Town, in between unbearably long stints at different bases across the country, you’d find yourselves walking hand-in-hand down the beach as the sun set. 

It wasn’t anything particularly special, at least you didn’t think so. Plenty of couples walked down the same beach, with the same envelope of comfortable silence. 

But what you loved about Rooster, about Bradley, was that he always walked on the side closest to the water. He said his father was taken by the sea, and he wouldn’t let it take you as well. 

While you teased him incessantly for the cheesiness of it all, you’d admit, just as easily, how it made your heart ache for him all the more. In fact, the seemingly limitless capacity you had for your love of Bradley Bradshaw had almost scared you away once, but you’d learned to lean into the fear, the discomfort, the potential for it all to burn to the ground. 

What you hadn’t known then was that while you had embraced your fear, Bradley had let his control him. He stood between you and the sea out of love, but also because of an unspoken fear of his that made him want to protect you, as well. 

So when Bradley chose to not tell you about your admission to TOPGUN, an opportunity that would have made you the youngest female pilot to have been selected, you quickly understood that the love you both shared would never be enough. 

“Where is it?” 

He looked up from his phone for only a glance before returning to tap on the screen. You were already revved up and looking for a fight by then, and his lack of attention was doing little to help contain that fire smouldering in the pit of your stomach.

“Bradley, I’m talking to you.” He knew he was in trouble when you used his name, not Rooster. 

“Where’s what?” he finally asked, setting his phone to the side and walking over to you. You were rooted at the door of the kitchen, arms crossed defensively as if you were worried he’d strike at any moment. 

“The letter. My letter. From TOPGUN,” you said, voice raising. His hands came to cup your face, a habit of his that would normally force you to look into his eyes and melt. But the problem now was that you didn’t want to relax. You wanted your letter. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about, hun,” he soothed, a flash of hurt crossing his face as you slapped his comforting hands away. 

“Of course you do. Dad said they were sent out weeks ago, and when I asked the Postman this morning, he said you had signed off on a ‘top secret’ package. So where is it, Bradley.”

He sighed in defeat, looking everywhere but right at you. “Bradley,” you bit out again. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me…”

“I ripped it up,” he confessed when the silence between the two of you became unbearable. That had never happened before. The quiet that had surrounded the pair of you had always been something you relished in, but now? It threatened to swallow you whole. 

“Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You had started crying, tears of anger and disbelief. 

“Because,” was his answer then, finally meeting your gaze. Bradley’s own eyes were more hard steel than loving comfort then. You couldn’t recognise him, not anymore.

“I’m going to need something more than fucking ‘because’, Bradshaw.”

“Because,” he tried again, mouth a thin line, and you could see in the way he shifted his weight  between his feet that he was battling with himself on whether he should tell you the truth or not. 

“We’re getting married, Bradley. I deserve the truth,” you injected eventually, despair and disappointment laced between syllables. You reached up to hold his face in your hands, now, thumb brushing across the stubble of his jaw as his hands rested, with an even, familiar weight, on your hips. 

“Because if you go to TOPGUN, I’m afraid you won’t come back,” he admitted, forehead resting defeatedly against your own. 

Your eyes fluttered shut at his confession. It was silent again as you considered your next words carefully. 

“You shouldn’t have done that. You had no right to do that. I love you, Bradley, you know I do. But right now, I’ve never hated you more.” He jerked out of your embrace, that stoniness returning to his features. He was closed off to everyone, you included. 

“You said yourself, we’re getting married, so shouldn’t you take my feelings into account? I don’t want you to go,” he fired back instantly. “Don’t. Go.”

“Of course, I care about how you feel! Of course, I would have taken them into account!”

“‘Would have’?” he questioned, incredulous. Bradley shook his head in disbelief, hands resting on his hips as he stopped and stared you down. “If I hadn’t hidden the letter from you, would you have listened to me and declined the offer?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped yourself at the last minute. You couldn’t lie to him, not when you’d just ripped him a new one for doing just that. “No. I’d have listened but I would have accepted anyway.”

He nodded in understanding, but it looked oddly like defeat to you. 

The fight had ended there that night, and while you hadn’t called off the engagement or your relationship immediately, it never got better. 

The love you had for each other was quickly lost amongst petty arguments and cruel words, until it was too late and you couldn’t find your way back to how it used to be. 

There was a pounding in your head that sounded a lot like someone banging on a door. And it took you a few minutes to focus your mind enough to realise it was, indeed, someone calling your name through several inches of metal. 

“Fucking– fuck,” you hissed, unwinding your creaking joints from the tangled sheets as you tripped your way to the door. 

You swung it open, “What is I–”

“They’re alive, out on the deck.” You didn’t recognise the officer speaking to you, nor the words spoken. But he looked important, even a little wise with the lines that aged his otherwise smooth features. 

So why was it, you thought, that he was speaking such complete, and utter, bullshit?

“I– What?” you repeated, baffled by his very presence.

“I’m speaking to you, Lieutenant. Out on the deck. Go!” he shouted now, giving you a rough yank so that you’d start walking towards the staircase on the opposite end of the hall. Your feet were moving out of fear of being trampled because the frowning, possibly wise, officer followed, hot at your heels. 

You blinked up at the sun, not yet registering the screaming crowd. At first, you thought they were screams of outrage, despair, relentless grief. They must’ve been, right? You couldn’t be the only one mourning the loss of the two most important people in your life. The thought was unfathomable.

But that was when the crowd parted after a few people had spotted you, staring dazedly ahead.  

You didn’t see them, not at first. They were camouflaged by a sea of mossy green uniforms like your own, but then your Dad looked over at you with that blinding smile of his, and you were barreling into his arms before you’d actually understood what was happening.

“Y-you’re– you’re–” you stammered out. It felt like your soul was trembling inside your body, and Pete gripped you even harder in response. You had always been an overactive child, but with that came an unbearable amount of anxiety. It was only Pete, your Dad's tight embrace that calmed you down. That hadn’t changed. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you,” he repeated, low and unwavering, over and over again. 

“I thought you were dead.” It sounded more like an accusation than a statement, but then Pete only chuckled at his daughter’s stubbornness that was entirely his own. 

“I thought I was as well, but Bradley–”

“Bradley?” you interrupted, turning in his arms to find a beaming Rooster shaking hands, in the manliest display of affection you’d ever seen, with Hangman. 

You broke free of your father’s arms (he was already letting go, almost on the verge of pushing you towards Rooster himself – but he’d never tell you that), shoving the crowd out of the way, until you stood in front of him, panting. 

“I can explain,” he said immediately, recognising the anger in your stance.

“You can explain? You can fucking explain?” you spit out, shoving him, hard; a move that surprised him enough so that he actually stumbled a step or two back. 

“Come on, Melon, don’t be like this,” he urged quietly, the two of them entirely unaware of just how intently everyone was watching them. He hadn’t called you that in years, hadn’t dared to. It was something he used to tease you with when you were younger, and the nickname had stuck enough so that you’d been knighted ‘Honeydew’ at flight school. 

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that!” You were crying and shouting and really, if you’d known how borderline psychopathic you looked, you would have stopped yourself about two sentences ago. 

“You’re an impulsive, egotistical, reckless little shit, Bradley. I can’t– I just– I can’t believe–” Your words were moving at a mile a minute and it wasn’t long until you hit a speed bump hard enough to leave you a crying, blubbering mess. 

You didn’t waste a moment then, throwing your arms around him and burying your tear-stained face in the crook of his neck, in the only place, outside of your father’s arms, you’d ever felt safe. You were scrambling for something to hold onto before, but you’d found somewhere, someone, to anchor onto. 

“I’m sorry, Bradley. I’m so sorry,” you confessed into his skin. He pulled you back, resting your face in his palms as he finally got a good look at your flushed cheeks and snotty nose. “I heard you go down, and I heard Dad as well, and all I could fucking think was ‘I never said sorry’. You have to know–”

He’d tell you later that you looked beautiful, and you’d smack him with a pillow for lying. 

“I know, Melon, I know,” he whispered back, voice breaking under the weight of emotions the both of you were feeling so freely. “I love you, I’ve always loved you. I’m a fucking idiot because, when it mattered most, when you’d come to resent me, to hate me, I didn’t tell you.” He was crying silently and you don’t think you’d ever seen him cry before. “I love you.”

You felt the physical ache of your heart cracking open, making room in your chest for him to occupy once more. “I never hated you, how could I have ever hated you. I’ve loved you, always. Even when I was mad, I knew I would always love you.”

Rooster only held back a second longer before giving in. The shock, the hurt, the love. He leaned forward, slotting his lips, sweetly, against yours, and poured those very emotions into every press of your mouths. 

It was only then that the world around them returned, as did the roaring laughter and cheers of your peers. The surprise of seeing the two of you together, confessing such intimate feelings, had faded as your friends – Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, Bob – suffocated you with savouring hugs. 

You had more to say to him, to Rooster. But you knew it could wait. You’d find the time to make it back to the beach, to hold each other close as the tide crawls to shore. 

You knew Rooster would hold you, wait, and listen. 

Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs make me happpyy!

[gxdsfavgal]

Rear View Mirror

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!pilot reader

Warnings: 18+, call sign is “Ghost”, flirting, praise, piv sex, choking, fingers in mouth, authority kink, not drunk fucking just a lil drinking

Summary: basically… you’re called back to Top Gun, you go to the Hard Deck and see old friends, you see Roos, you have some fun with your old bestie! ;)

A/N: i love this plot so I think i’m gonna do one for Hangman and Bob! Also, in all of my Top Gun content, readers call sign will always be Ghost

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I don’t know how long it’s been since my last time at the Hard Deck, but here I am dressed in the skin tight khaki uniform. My last name stitched onto a patch along with other Navy and Top Gun patches.

I took a deep breath of the salty hot air as I opened the door to the bar. The air was even hotter in the Hard Deck due to all the bodies crammed into the small bar.

My eyes looked side to side, trying to find at least one person that I knew. That was until my eyes locked on the familiar dark brown slick bun and a tall-cocky-blond.

“Phoenix!” I practically screamed when I saw her playing billiards.

Before she took a shot at the ball she scanned the room and found my eyes. We ran up to each other and jumped like little girls.

“This is a sight to see” Hangman smirked at he leaned against the table.

“It’s nice to see you too Jake!” I playfully rolled my eyes before I opened my arms to pull him into a hug.

I quickly said my hellos to everyone and gave quick introductions before I went to Penny to order myself a drink.

“Where’s your best friend?” Penny asked as she was fixing up my drink.

My eyebrows furrowed until I was able to comprehend it.

“I don’t know where Roos is. Hell, he might be across the world right now!” we both chuckled.

I thanked Penny and went back to the group who was talking to Bob, something about his boring call sign. We all were talking about what his callsign meant, Bob and I more into it than the others since I was one of the pilots who gave him the name of Baby On Board.

Phoenix, Hangman, and the others go silent, pausing the conversation with Bob. Bob and I look at each other confused until we follow their eyes to the man that just arrived.

I quickly hand my drink to Bob and fast walk to the man at the entrance.

“Here we go.” I hear Hangman mumble behind me but I ignore it.

“Bradley Fucking Bradshaw always making a grand entrance!” I weaved through the sweaty bodies.

“You know I had to” he rolled his eyes behind his aviators. “Come here Ghost!”

His arms gripped my waist, hugging me and pulling me off of the floor. My arms tight around his neck, my fingers toying around with the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Missed you Roos!” I mumbled into his neck as I took in the familiar scent.

He put me down and dusted my shoulders to make me look pristine again.

“It’s not nice to lie Ghost.” he playfully said.

“C’mon let’s bring you to the gang!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd, he gave waves and smiles to other familiar faces.

After I bring him to the team, Roos catches up with everyone and slides in some bickering with Jake just like how it was a few years ago.

I quietly sneak off to get Roos a beer from Penny, taking my time since I know she is going to be asking questions or making assumptions.

“You know he’s happier when he’s with you.” the blonde said as she was shaking a drink.

“No, he’s happy whenever he is in the air.” I smiled as I sipped my drink.

Bradshaw has been my best friend ever since we met each other at the Naval Academy a few years back. I knew that Maverick pulled his papers and how he holds him accountable for Goose’s death.

I’ve always thought Roos was an amazing person, I’d be lying if I said that I never imagined a future with him. He’s my best friend though, gotta keep it that way.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I hear the sound of slightly out of tune piano keys, everyone beginning to crowd the old rustic piano.

Penny slides me Roos’s beer and I make my way to the piano, pushing through to see that the one and only Bradley is doing his little performance.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!”

I stood behind Phoenix with my free hand on her shoulder as we all start to sing along.

“Too much loves drives a man insane!”

Roosters eyes met mine, his hands never failing on the ivory keys. His head motions for me to sit on the bench with him. Phoenix lightly pushed me into the circle, and I playfully flipped her the bird.

I put his beer on the top of the piano and took a seat on the rickety bench next to Rooster. His body moving along the piano made the bench unstable, the wooden legs ready to unscrew from the movement.

“You broke my will, but what a thrill!” he sang out, his head tilting back.

The sun beamed perfectly on him though the window, the sweaty glow on his face and chest made him look godly.

He quickly took his hands off of the keys and cupped my face. “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”

He went back to playing and singing his heart out for the crowd. All of us Navy’s and military were singing along with him. I was distracted by how fast his fingers were playing and how his sweat traces down his veins on his neck.

This man was a beauty and he knows it. I’m pretty sure he saw me admiring him the whole song.

Just like that, the song was done. The crowd cheered for him, patting him on the back and girls swooning.

He turned his body towards mine, our knees touching. I about to overheat in my uniform.

“Did you like it?” he asked, extending his swole arm to grab the beer I’ve gotten for him.

“Hmm. I think you were a little pitchy.” I sarcastically shrugged my shoulders.

“C’mon you love it when I sing to you.” he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him to the point where he rests his head on top of mine.

“Maybe you’re thinking about some other Navy gal.”

He pulls his head off of mine and brought his lips to my ear.

“I only think about you.” his voice went an octave lower before leaving a peck behind my ear, his mustache tickling me.

I was used to this, we always talked to each other like this. Always little flirty remarks like we were teens. It made me blush, he made me feel like I was a high school girl sneaking out with one of the bad boys.

“Sure you do Roos.” I sent him a wink before I stood up off the bench, leaving him to use the bathroom.

When I was leaving out the bathroom, Roos snuck up behind me. He looped his fingers around the belt loop on the small of my back as we walked back to the crowded bar.

It was always the little gestures that he did, that got me the most.

I saw that Bob was now playing pool with FanBoy so I led us there. Roos sat down on a wooden stool and pulled me by my belt loops between his widened legs.

His arm wrapped over my collarbones and his hand resting on my shoulder, while he tips his beer back in his other hand. I can feel his chest rise and fall against my back.

Phoenix came up to us with a surprised look on her face. “Did you guys know that Bob was in the same TopGun class with us the whole time?”

The others were agreeing with the question she had just asked.

“Yeah I know Robert.” I said as I sent him a wave before he hit his ball.

Everyone was dumbfounded.

I felt Rooster’s chest vibrate from his chuckle.

“Hey. How about we go on a drive?” he whispered into my ear.

“What car did you bring?” I asked with a smile that he couldn't see.

“You know, just that lovely blue Ford Bronco that you love so much.” his voice was deep, trying to keep quiet so none of the others can hear.

I turn my head to face him, smile wide on my face.

“You know I love rides in the Bronco!” I leaned off of him and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bar.

The cool salty air hitting my face was refreshing after being in tight and sweaty Navy uniforms.

Once we reached his blue Bronco, I leaned against the rear looking up at Rooster with heavy eyelids as he smiled down at me.

“You drive since you only had half a beer!” I pushed his chest, running to the passenger side.

I heard him sigh in sarcasm knowing that he would never let me drive his car, it was like one of his most prized possessions. I swung my legs up and sat in the leather passengers seat.

My fingers traces around the modern interior that matched perfectly with the vintage exterior. The cream leather seats were warm from the setting sun.

“Where to Ghost?” he closed the door and started the engine, also checking to make sure my seat belt is on.

“Depends on how much gas you got.” I joked, leaning my seat back just slightly and taking off my shoes so I can rest them on my seat.

“Anywhere it is.” he started exiting the parking lot, turning on some music and rolling down the windows.

The sunset was absolutely gorgeous on the horizon of the water.

I turned my body to look at Roos who kept his eyes on the road and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

“What you staring at?” he asked, giving me a quick look.

“Just admiring.” my chin rested on my hand on top of the center console.

I can feel that the few drinks I had were getting too me, I can definitely feel the confidence that it usually gave me.

“What you admiring?” he asked, his signature smirk was plastered on his face.

“Your hair and how I want it between my fingers, your lips and how soft they would be against mine.”

“Oh yeah?” he shifted in his seat, his shorts getting uncomfortably tight for him.

“Yeah and your lap, and how I wanna get off on it. Your fingers and how I want them in my mouth.” 

Damn, alcohol can really get to you.

“Get in the back.” I didn't even notice that he parked. We were in a secluded area off the road that looked over the beach.

I nodded at him, unbuckling my seat belt and eagerly crawling over the center console to the back seats.

He was still in the drivers seat, adjusting the rear view mirror to see me.

“Take off everything but your panties and tank top.” he demanded.

I listened and stripped down to my tank top and underwear, throwing my clothes to the front passenger seat.

He got out of the drivers seat and opened the back door to me, getting in with me.

“Look at you, listening so well.” he chuckled, his callused hand rubbing against my ass, giving squeezes here and there.

“Yes Lieutenant.” he groaned at the ranking.

He grabbed my hips, lifting me up and sliding his body under mine. The middle seat gave us the perfect view of the scenery. His large hands pushed down the top of my back, my chest against the center console and my ass up in the air.

I can hear the clanking of his belt and his fingers struggling to pull down his shorts and boxers. I peek under my chest, getting a few of Roos fisting his cock. 

It was thick, veins all over, and it was eager. The head was almost purple and it stood tall and proud. His groans were pornographic.

His free hand traced up my inner thigh and to my clothed entrance. His finger rubbed against the slick of my lace.

“Who got you this wet?” his voice was low and his eyes trained on his fingers playing with the juices soaking through.

“You did Lieutenant.” my moans were quiet.

“Are you good with this Ghost?” he was talking regular now, making sure that I had a choice to back out if I wanted.

“Im sure Roos.” I reached my arm back, rubbing at his knee to assure him.

He wrapped his arm around my collarbones, pulling me up against his chest. “Good.” Our eyes met in the rear view mirror, his lips against my neck.

His mustache scratching and tickling my skin, his mouth nipping at my skin and littering it with marks.

The tip of his cock rubbed over my slit, nudging against my opening. He pulled me down against him, his cock slowly filling me as I sat on his lap.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for my cock. Such a snug fit.” he groaned out, my body still adjusting to his thick size.

I circled my hips, begging for him to move. He got the hint and began to thrust from under me, pushing me up then pulling me down on his dick. We were in sync.

Our moans filling up the car.

My ass bounced on him, rippling with every time I was pulled down to meet his skin. His eyes trained on his cock disappearing inside of me and the string of juices.

“Cmon Lieutenant. Fuck me rough.” I rasped out, my throat raw from all of the moaning.

He bent me over the trucks center console, his fingers making their way into my mouth, and his eyes trained on mine through the rear view mirror. His lower lip trapped between his teeth as he focused on the feeling.

“Right there!” I mumbled out through his fingers. My saliva spilling out of my mouth, onto my chin and down his wrist.

His hips were snapping roughly into me, the sound of skin slapping. His cock me raw from the dragging inside me.

“Look at you. Got my fingers all soaked and my cock too.” he smirked at me through the mirror, my mouth lips plump and eyes teary.

He took his fingers out of my mouth, bringing them down to my clit. My saliva mixing with my slick as he rubbed on my puffy sensitive nerves.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” I wailed, the tears running down my cheeks and staining them. My legs closing from the intensity.

I clenched down on him, my orgasm so close. 

“Almost there. A-almost.” his voice stuttered and so did his thrusts.

With a few more snaps, my vision went white and my moans were loud. My legs and body shaking from release and adrenaline. His groans were deep, being vocal in my ear.

“Good girl.” he groaned out in pleasure, pulling out of me.

I whined at the empty feeling, his cum spilling out of my abused hole. His hand rubbing at my back, trying to get me to calm down.

“Fuck Roos.” I panted, my slick back bun now messy and drenched in sweat.

“Let’s go back to my house and get you all freshened up.” he hummed, using his shirt to wipe up our mess.

[warnersister]

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

[bloatedandalone04]

If It Makes You Happy - Part 1

➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy

Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”

His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.

Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck. 

“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

“Yes,”

One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?” 

“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”

Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”

If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is. 

He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.

So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.” 

After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief. 

Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier. 

The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.” 

As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure. 

You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.

He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours. 

You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.

“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.  

“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder. 

“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”

That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?” 

Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”

He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?” 

You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”

-

You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.

After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.

“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious. 

“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long. 

Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months. 

And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him. 

It was simple, easy, casual. 

You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.

Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him. 

“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink. 

“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,” 

That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops. 

You were beautiful, to put it simply. 

He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark. 

It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you. 

The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things. 

Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well. 

As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits. 

He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.

He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights. 

All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it. 

There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you. 

You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be. 

He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house. 

And you had started to, kind of. 

Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.

There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?

Right?

As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”

You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar. 

“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”

“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”

Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek. 

“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.” 

Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake. 

“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”

You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”

Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”

At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.” 

His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer. 

“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”

That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”

He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace. 

Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”

It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation. 

-

The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,” 

You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone. 

As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him. 

The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.  

“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”

This was it.

Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”

He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,” 

Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”

From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,” 

There it was.

You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”

You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.” 

His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”

You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?” 

Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”

It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world. 

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs. 

“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”

You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you. 

“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw. 

You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried. 

He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half. 

Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart. 

As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact. 

He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.

It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock. 

“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”

“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”

“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”

“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-” 

Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”

And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days. 

-

A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you. 

His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home. 

His.

Bradley had to laugh. 

You weren’t his.

He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.

God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now. 

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.

Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock. 

Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?

A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer. 

He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.

If you listened to it at all.

“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”

He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to. 

“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side. 

-

It went on like that for weeks. 

Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you. 

He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier. 

He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his. 

Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you. 

You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot. 

He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend. 

Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago. 

While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.

He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up. 

Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more. 

When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck. 

Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead. 

He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now. 

Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.

Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.

You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.

Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too. 

He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you. 

After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.

He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.

You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.

He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want. 

To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck. 

Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

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[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

[ohtobeleah]

An Angel’s Discretion //

Summary: When Bradley gets a call to say you’ve been involved in a major car accident, his whole world is turned upside down.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x wifeF!reader. Car Accident. Pregnancy, Bradley in a state of existential crisis. Pre-mature birth. Hurt/comfort. Goose cameo.

Word Count: 3.5k

It felt like time stood still yet had sped up all at the same time. Your entire world had been flipped on its head in the blink of an eye—you felt like your entire life was flashing before your eyes. A Rolodex of memories played out before you as you spun out and rolled down into the embankment. You didn’t know exactly how it happened or why it happened - but regardless of that, it still very much happened and you were still very much in trouble. 

It had been god awful weather recently, so much so the Dagger’s had been grounded for the better half of a week. Bradley had been home for a change, pottering around the house baby proofing sharp edges and making sure the crib was set up just like the instruction book had said. 

It seemed that people truly believed that the car you were trapped in for nearly half an hour had flipped and rolled hours ago. An empty mangled car on the side of the road—nobody stopped to see if there were any occupants. Nobody stopped to snoop. Nobody heard your cries— the cries of a woman in unimaginable pain. Hoping, praying, as you remained helplessly tangled in your seat belt. You had blood gushing from wounds you didn’t know what exactly had been caused by and had bones that shattered from impact. 

You stayed there, trapped in a mess of broken glass and twisted aluminum, whimpering as you rubbed your swollen belly. Seven months. Seven beautiful months carrying your child. Bradley’s daughter. You’d spent seven months promising to keep her safe - keep her sound. You didn’t know the gender but the feeling was there and it was strong, you were having a little baby girl. 

Bradley wanted to keep the gender a surprise, but you knew deep down with every fibre of your being that you were having a girl, that he’d be a girl dad till his dying day. But as you slowly brought your hand up to cup over your bellybutton? You knew something was utterly wrong.

“We’re okay, aren’t we spud.” You mumbled as your vision blurred and your head became far too heavy for you to keep it lifted. “Mama’s gonna take ca-care of you.” You struggled out before succumbing to the feeling of emptiness as you drifted into unconsciousness—the sound of your shattered phone playing your doting husband's ringtone. Replay by iyaz. One final smile appeared on your bloodied broken face as you heard the all too familiar sound. 

Before.....nothing. 

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

“Baby seats shouldn’t be this complicated to fit!” Bradley groaned as he tried to figure out how to secure the baby seat into the backseat of the Bronco. Jake was too busy trying to reread the instructions. “Nope, I can’t do this right now I need a break.” The pair of naval aviators had been off work for the better half of the week and while you were out grocery shopping, Jake had come over to lend a helping hand at putting together some flat pack furniture. “Good thing this baby isn’t coming for another few months.” 

“Ah, you’ve jinxed it now!” Jake teased, clicking his fingers at Bradley to grab his attention. “Also, apparently it’s meant to face the other way round.” Jake grinned ear to ear as Bradley deadpanned him. Giving up in entirety before he turned back to the house with a huff. “Oh come on! Where are you going, Rooster! we almost had it!” Jake laughed, jogging after his wingman up to the house. 

“I need a beer!” It had been a long afternoon for the two men who had done nothing but unpack and organise the nursery. Bradley was in his own nesting phase. He’d read in a bunch of parents books that nesting was something you’d go through in preparation for the little spud on the way. He was now finding that he was doing it too. 

“Oh I’ll take one too.” Jake trailed behind Rooster into the kitchen. “Job well done deserves a bevy.” Just as Bradley opened the fridge and passed Jake the Budweiser, his phone began to ring out on the kitchen counter. “Oh—unknown number man.” Jake announced. 

“It’s probably Y/n.” Bradley twirled his wedding band as he stood to answer his phone that was sitting on the kitchen bench, not recognising the number lighting up his screen. For a moment he wasn’t going to answer because why would you be calling from an unknown number. But he just had a gut feeling. He’d called you a few times before hand but you never answered, maybe this was you calling him back? 

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw?” A woman who sounded more panicked than calm spoke—needing a confirmation before continuing with her call. 

“This is he?” Bradley responded, turning back to Jake with a confused look on his face, eyes glancing up at the time. Five thirty in the afternoon. You should have been home an hour ago. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, we’ve just had a one Y/n Bradshaw admitted.” The woman on the other end of the phone call Bradley almost didn’t answer, explained. “Your wife, she’s unfortunately been involved in a severe accident and—“ Bradley didn’t hear the rest of what the nurse had to say as he dropped his phone, it clunked and clambered from the kitchen bench to the tiled floor below. “Hello? Mr Bradshaw?” Unable to process the news he’d just been told Bradley began to panic as his vision tunnel and his mind went numb. 

“Jake—“ Was it Bradley’s fault? Was he a terrible husband for not noticing how long you’d been gone? Was there something wrong with your car? You’d mentioned a time or two that the air conditioning had been making a funny noise. “Jake I can’t breathe—“ Bradley clutched at his chest as he groaned, it felt like his entire world was collapsing around him. “I can’t fucking breathe.” 

“Oh-okay, yeah we’re leaving right now.” Jake confirmed as he spoke to the lady on the phone. Hangman had picked up the phone Rooster had dropped, he listened to what the woman on the other end of the line had to say as Bradley started to sob, losing his grip on reality. 

Jake reached out to touch Bradley’s shoulder in an attempt to confront the aviator who’s world had just shattered into a million pieces, the moment he did though Jake Seresin witnessed his best friend collapse down to his knees in unimaginable pain at the thought of losing you. His girl. His wife. His best friend. The love of his life. The mother of...oh god the mother of his child. 

“Rooster we gotta g—“

“I can’t lose her!!” Bradley screamed as warm tears drenching his flushed face. “Can’t—won't lose her. I can’t!” Jake knew Bradley was hyperventilating, he’d seen a panic attack a time or two before when Bob had stayed in his spare room while his house was being painted. Jake also knew a panic attack when he saw one because he got them too. But this? This was a panic attack shrouded in heartache, one Jake would never understand. 

“Hey, hey Rooster.” Jake crouched down before his wingman— knowing he needed all the strength he could get. On the inside Jake was a mess. If Bradley lost you that meant Jake lost you too. Holding the back of Bradley’s head as he leaned in. “Listen man, this is so fucked up but she needs you, Y/n needs you to be there for her because she can’t do this alone? Alright? We gotta go— you’re her husband Rooster.” Jake reminded him. “Y/n needs her husband to be there for her okay? In sickness and in health you promised her.” 

Bradkey sobbed uncontrollably—but he got up. Knowing Hangman was right. You needed him, and like fuck was he gonna let you slip through his fingers. 

“Okay, okay let’s go.” 

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

It’s needless to say Bradley Bradshaw was a mess—a sobbing, shaking, totally exhausted figment of his former stoic self in the private waiting room nurses had told him to wait in. Jake contacted your mum and dad, he called Mav and Penny too who were already on their way over to the Miramar Base Hospital because hell was Mav somewhat sob going to go through this alone. 

“We don’t know what’s going on.” Bradley could just faintly hear Jake on the phone with Phoenix as he sat and twisted his wedding band around his ring finger. It kept him grounded but the tangible reminder of your love did nothing to stop Rooster's mind from thinking of the very worst. 

“We haven’t been told a single thing—“ Jake sighed as he ran his hand through his sun kissed hair locks. “No, no he’s not in a good way.” 

Bradley could hear only Jake's voice and only his answers. But he knew Phoenix would be going stir crazy not know what had happened or what was going on, they all would be. Every single member of Bradley’s naval squadron had become like family to you both. Extensions on the small albeit perfect family you were just starting. 

Bradley thought he knew heartbreak, thought he’d been through pain. He’d lost his dad when he was just shy of three years old and his mother just after his seventh birthday. But nothing—nothing, compared to the heartache of not knowing what was happening to you. If you were alive, if your baby was okay? If Rooster had just lost his young family before it had a chance to grow old. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw?” An older looking woman in scrubs asked as she knocked. Both Bradley and Jake looked up—both just as desperate for answers. “Hi” She cooed. “My names Jannette, I’ve been with your wife since she came in—“

“H-how is she?” Bradley could barely speak at this point, he was too afraid to know but needed answers. Although he’d stood from the chair he’d been perched in he still twirled his wedding band around his finger. He still needed that tangible reminder. You loved him, no matter what the outcome was you would always love him. To the moon and back and twice over you’d say before he left for deployments. 

In all Bradley’s years he always thought he’d be the one leaving you behind—he never once thought his wife that cut and arranged flowers for a living would leave him, the naval aviator who flew super hornets for a living. But here he stood in some twisted parallel universe that felt like a plot ripped straight from an episode of the twilight zone. 

“She’s critical, my colleagues are still working on her as we speak.” The room went silent as Bradley forgot how to breathe. Jake was by his side in seconds. “It's touch and go.” 

“My baby? How’s my baby?” If anything mattered to you, it was your unborn child. Bradley knew if anything happened to them that you'd never forgive yourself. You’d rather die than live a life without your baby. You’d done everything in your power to make sure they had the best chance of being strong and healthy and safe. You’d been the perfect mother. 

“She” The nurse smiled. “Is okay, we did however have to do an emergency c-section because your wife was unfortunately not able to carry her to full turn due to her uterus filling with blood.” It was a whirlwind of emotions. Bradley Bradshaw was suddenly a father, he had a baby girl. 

“Rooster, you have a little girl.” Jake helped Bradley take a few agonising steps as he took in the news. You’d given him a baby girl. A tiny little you. How could he ever thank you enough? How could he ever begin to repay that debt of gratitude, of love? 

“You can see her if you’d like? She’s in the NICU.” Jannette explained. “But you won’t be able to touch her without protection until she’s used to the new environment, premature babies can catch infections and colds despite our best efforts, so it’s best she says in the incubation chamber.”

“C’mon Bradshaw, let's go meet your little girl, yeah? You know Y/n wouldn’t want her left alone.” Jake was right. Bradley could hear everything going on around him but he couldn’t speak. He was still taking all this in. He was a dad, a girl dad. He was the father to your daughter and you weren’t here to see him start this new chapter. 

God it was bittersweet. 

“When will I know how my wife is?” Bradley asked as he followed the nurse he towered over—she had a little waddle that Jake couldn’t help but notice. 

“You’ll be the first to know her updated condition, Lieutenant, but from what I’ve seen so far your wife is one hell of a fighter, not a lot of people in her condition would’ve come out of that alive.”

Braduheld onto that tiny shred of hope, clung to it for dear life as he followed the nurse to meet his baby’s girl—way too early. How do you introduce yourself to a baby? Jake was right beside him. Do you think Jake Seresin would ever let his wingman walk alone through such a tragedy? 

Absolutely not. 

“Bradley, this is your daughter, obviously she doesn’t have a name so we called her Jane as protocol - short for Jane Doe.” The little girl was so incredibly tiny. She was dwarfed by wires and tubes connected all over her tiny body helping her little lungs breathe. Bradley couldn’t distinguish if she looked more like you or him. But fuck he wished she looked like you. He took a seat next to the incubator that held his bundle of joy. The joy he’d been blessed with by you. The joy and light of his world he’d helped create, a blend of you and him. 

“H-hey little one.” Rooster struggled to talk. “I’m your Dadda, your mums in a little bit of a situation right now but I’ve got you yeah?” Tears ran down Bradley’s face as he placed a fingertip against the glass. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, ever.” 

Rooster always said he’d never love anyone more than he’d love you—but this little girl? God she was already Bradley’s entire fucking world. For a single second he forgot you were in surgery. Watching as your daughter's tiny lips curled into a soft smile of a mere second. Bradley liked to think it was her acknowledging his presents. 

“Bradley?” Jannette interrupted, Bradley had forgotten all sense of time as he sat with his baby girl. “It’s your wife—she’s stable, sleeping but stable. She’s being moved to the ICU for around the clock observation.”

“When can I Uh, when can I see her?” Bradley let out a sob as he thanked the heavens above, his little family was okay—not great, not thriving with heath, but okay. Stable. Jake finally allowed himself to breathe for the first time all night. 

“We can go up there if you like?” Bradley nodded in response—looking over at Jake who already knew what his wingman was about to ask. 

“I’ll stay here, keep her company, go get your girl Rooster.” Jake hugged Bradley as tight as he ever had before. “You’re a dad man, congratulations.” Being the big brother Bradley needed but didn’t have. “I got you brother.”

Bradley didn’t know what to do when he first saw you—he stood at the doorway just staring at the women who had given him everything. So injured, so hurt. And he couldn’t do anything to help ease your pain. Even through all the injuries, tubs and wires, much like the little girl you gave precious life to, you still look beautiful. So gorgeous, so at peace. 

A soft “oh god” escaped Bradley’s mouth as he held back sobs walking towards you. Nurse Jannette giving him the space he so desperately needed with you. Bradley took in the sight before him. His beautiful wife, mother of his daughter, laying so lifeless in a hospital bed. He wished so bad you could be at home with him right now, tangled in the warm sheets, smiling and being your “happy go lucky” self instead of here. He wished so badly he could take you anywhere else in the world. 

Anywhere but here—like this. 

“Hey beautiful.” Bradley whispered. Biting his bottom lip to stop himself from breaking down for what felt like the one hundredth time tonight. “You don’t know it yet but you’re a mama, and dammit baby you’ll be the best fucking mum on earth.” Bradley grabbed the nearby seat and pulled it close. Once his hand was in yours there was no place else Rooster wanted to be then right by your side. Although he wished the two of you could be anywhere else together. 

“You’re gonna be okay baby, maybe not today or next week? But you’ll be okay. I won’t let you be anything but okay.” Bradley mumbled through soft sobs as he took notice of every injury that plagued your body. Every cut, stitch, wrap and blood stained patch that littered the soft and supple skin he loved so much. Bradley especially noticed the gash on your cheek—stitched. 

As Rooster sat with you, he could see your eyelids moving. He knew you were conscious, just sleeping. Heavily medicated, he knew you could hear every word he spoke. But soon Bradley Bradshaw watched in awe as you placed your hand over your stomach. Checking to see if your little spud was alright. When you noticed how small your stomach felt you moaned. 

“My—my baby?” Your eyes weren’t even open yet and you already knew something was terribly wrong. Even if your entire body was in agonising pain you needed to make sure your baby was alright. 

“Hey shh, shh, shh, I got you.” Bradley cooed, his hand gently reaching out to cup your cheek—the side without any noticeable injuries that would bring you discomfort. “She’s alright mama, she’s here a little early but she’s okay—j-just like you yeah.” 

“She?” Your eyes opened slowly at the sound of your husband’s voice—your neck killed as you turned to face him. Giving up quickly. Bradley was quick to notice the wince you let out. 

“She mama, our little girl. Both my girls gave me a pretty big heart attack this afternoon huh? Are you trying to kill me honey?” Bradley smiled. Noticing how you smiled back for a brief moment before the muscles in your cheeks gave up. 

“I’m so sorry” You whispered—eyes closed again as you couldn’t stand the light of the room. “I don’t know what happened— no one came though.” You started to cry. “No one came when I called for help for so long.” Bradley leaning in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m here, I came, I’m not going anywhere my love.” Rooster sobbed back, sometimes being strong meant crying along with the ones you love. “God I thought I lost you.” 

“He said it wasn’t my time to go.” You sighed, clearly fighting off the urge to fall asleep. So groggy from the medicine that even the thought of being a mother hadn’t truly set in yet—all you cared about was that your baby was safe. She was alive. 

“Who did bub? One of the paramedics?” Bradley asked, a little confused as he pushed hair away from your face and made sure the oxygen tube was sitting just right. 

“He was in the car, said I couldn’t leave you yet, that you’d be lost without me.” You softly grinned while your eyes rested. “Had a moustache just like yours.” 

Bradley sat back in shock as he watched you drift back to sleep. Holding your hand thinking how the universe worked in mysterious ways. Bradley had promised to love you in good times and in bad - through sickness and in health. He’d live in the damn hospital if he had to—anything to be by your side. 

“God I hate it when he does this.” Goose groaned as he watched his son’s name appear on the shattered phone on the floor of your busted up car. “You’re not ready, it’s not your time so why bother even putting your through this crap.” The man spoke as you fell unconscious. “It’s not your time my dear and my son certainly needs you by his side or he’ll go crazy.” You listened, tried to nod, smile, anything to let him know you heard him. “You’ll be alright kid.”

Bradley Bradshaw had his family. He had his daughter, he had you. Going back and forth with Jake from room to room watching as both his girls slept. Both of you were still so unaware of the turmoil Bradley had been through. He nearly lost you. Without you? Bradley would’ve been helpless. 

But someone watching over him knew that as well as he did. A guardian angel not only watched over him....

But over his girls too.

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

[katsu28]

for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today. 

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks. 

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. 

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you. 

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like. 

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose. 

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later. 

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him. 

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten. 

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought. 

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—” 

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.” 

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!” 

“Is it okay if we talk first?” 

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words. 

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.” 

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—” 

“I think we should break up.” He blurted. 

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?” 

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you. 

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features. 

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.” 

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?” 

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me. 

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months. 

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.” 

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face. 

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be. 

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth. 

All because of him. 

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one. 

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him. 

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him. 

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better. 

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here. 

“I promised you I would.” 

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship. 

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise. 

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.” 

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.” 

“Humor me, Bradshaw.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.” 

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever. 

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it. 

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.” 

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Who usually taps you out?” 

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today. 

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.” 

“I wanna do it.”

“What?” 

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.” 

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.” 

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.” 

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him. 

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did. 

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home. 

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.” 

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—” 

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.” 

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.” 

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.” 

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.” 

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.” 

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.” 

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady. 

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.” 

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.” 

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.” 

“From now on? Does that mean…?” 

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it. 

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time. 

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.” 

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back. 

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” 

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—” 

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—” 

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake. 

“Hangman. Shut. Up.” 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!” 

“You’re the only one talking!” 

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.” 

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years. 

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again. 

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot. 

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of. 

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car. 

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?” 

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.” 

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.” 

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?” 

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm. 

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So you do?” 

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.” 

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!” 

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[saltsicklover]

Mud on the Floor - BRB - Broken House

I had this one ready to go because I thought the poll was going to go this way! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it anyway, even though this is literally not what you asked for!

Title: Mud on the Floor

Series: Broken House

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2600+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes, Thunderstorms, Angst Fluff Angst Sandwich.

A late afternoon storm hits the Hard Deck on Friday. Honey seems to be the only person not completely taken aback by the opening of the sky as she drives into work. The streets of California turn from open window joy rides to panicked skidding and hydroplaning as the concrete is pelted with rain. Honey drives slow, humming to her favorite song playing through static over the radio. The music takes her back to the first time Bradley held her close, in rain just like this, her mind no longer focused on chasing a ghost.  

"Hey, eyes on the road there, handsy," Honey pushes Bradley's hand from her thigh. He lets his fingers graze over the warmth of her skin, savoring each micro-moment before his hand hits the space between them. He turns his eyes back to the road, obeying her request, though he would rather sit and stare at Honey in the passenger seat. 

"You didn't seem to mind me being handsy this weekend," Bradley's tone is full of tease, the point of his tongue darting out of his mouth to tease the woman sitting next to him. He knows she's watching him. Honey's eyes haven't stopped tracing the edges of his profile for the last fifty miles and he doubts that fact will change any time soon. 

There is a meekness to the hum Bradley's comment is met with, it's noncommittal and unpressed, but he feels the warmth of her fingers snake through his own. Bradley lets himself smile, wide and toothy. He has stopped hiding his smiles since he met Honey all of four days ago. Their chance meeting at a bar in a rainstorm lead to their bodies tangled in cheap motel sheets, the fabric scratchy against their kiss stained skin. 

"You weren't driving this weekend," Honey points out. An absentminded stroke of her thumb over his own sends a shiver up his spine. God, Honey has this effect on him. This overtaking feeling of warmth that scatters across his skin like sparks on pavement. Bradley tries to soak in each ripple, each shiver, each spark, afraid that it will be gone as quickly as it came. 

"I thought I was driving you crazy, Sweet Girl," Bradley's words are coated in sugar water, sweet and refreshing. That nickname was new, and the way it left his lips made Honey wish he would whisper it again just so she could let it roll over her, slowly this time, so she could actually take the time to appreciate it. Still, she basks in it, lets it take over her senses- and it makes her feel alive. 

Lately, with Honey chasing any information about her father from base to base, post to post, port to air field and back again, she's felt like more shell than human. Her father is basically a ghost when you're a civilian. He lies hidden behind red tape and security clearance; both too full of bureaucracy and too lacking in empathy for the abandoned. 

"You are starting to drive me a different kind of crazy here, Brad," Honey's gentle fingers meet the side of his chin, pushing his eyeline back towards the road. Bradley wants to roll his eyes at her, but the feeling of his hand now holding onto the thickness of her leg, her own hand set atop his, keeps his eyeline unrolling on the road in front of them. "It looks like the sky is going to open up again any minute," 

"I hate the rain," The mutter coming from the man causes a gasp to all but rip through Honey. Her hand leaves the rolled spine of her book on her lap, dancing quickly through the air before she covers her newly gaping mouth. Bradley all but puts the break pedal to the floor, skidding to the side of the road at the noise, panic shooting though him. The Bronco is thrown in park so hast the gears of the engine almost lock. The look he gives her is nothing short of bewilderment when he finds her unharmed and looking a him like he's the crazy one. 

"What the fuck was that?" 

"You take that back," 

Both speak at the same time, each sentence their own version of momentary anger. Neither of them mean it, and both are quick to swallow the remainder of emotion still sitting on their tongue. 

Then, the sky opens up with a large crack of lightening, lighting up the massive gray sky. The bolt flashes over cabin of the Bronco, lighting up their faces. Honey looks at Bradley, her lips parted slightly. They are plush and full, the bottom one having just been released from the prison between her teeth. There are light teeth marks in the flesh and Bradley wants nothing more in that moment than to slide his own tongue over the groves and ease the pulsing under the dimpled flesh. 

Honey's eyes are drawn to the amber flecks in Bradley's eyes. They shone almost gold in the flash of purple white light not a moment before. Honey can't help but lean closer to him. She brings one leg up onto the seat, the other still on the floorboards with the book that slid from it's place in her lap. She leans closer still, trying to locate the gold hidden in the rich molasses of his eyes, hidden behind curled lashes that dust his cheeks with each too short blink. He doesn't dare look away from her too long for fear that her eyes would no longer be on his. 

A little crack of a smile crosses across Honey's expression, the attempt to hid it with a flick of her tongue over her lips catches Bradley's attention. He tentatively brings a hand up to her cheek, swiping the pad of his thumb over the fullness of her bottom lip. His fingertips barely graze over his cheek before they make a home near her hairline. The way she leans into his touch does nothing to quell the embers burning in Bradley's chest. Before this moment, he didn't know there could be so much passion behind the smallest of movements; his heart beats rhythmically against the backside of his ribs in a way that almost knocks the breath form his lungs. 

"What'cha smiling at, Sweet Girl?"  He almost has to suck in another deep breathe as he watches her shudder lightly, goosebumps breaking out over the expanses of her skin. He wishes he could see that little shiver again is slow motion, the way her eyes close and the corners of her mouth pull 

There's that name again, and the way he whispered it so huskily it makes her hands shake. Honey swallows thickly, trying to get control of her own body. She almost finds her hands reaching for Bradley, dying to feel him under her hands again. The weekend they spent tangled in each other, now gone behind them, and it didn't do enough to keep her satiated. 

"I was just thinkin' tha's all," Bradley doesn't trust the little ribbon of playfulness laces through her voice, so he presses just a bit further, pressing the pads of his fingers just a bit harder against her scalp. 

"What's on that beautiful brain of yours, huh?" 

"Just thinkin' 'bout how nice it is to be trapped in your car during the storm, tha's all," There is an air of nonimportance to her shrug, like she is trying to devalue her own thoughts because she doesn't like the way they sound coming from her own tongue. 

Bradley's fingertips leave Honey's scalp for just a moment, and she fights not to follow them. The laugh that wracks through Bradley surprises her, but she loves the smile that spreads across his face and the way his cheeks flush. It looks like raspberries have been smushed into his cheeks, and Honey can't help the way she stares. 

"Did I say something funny?" Honey keeps her tone so sweet. Bradley melts just a little further. He presses the pads of his fingers back onto her skin and Honey lets the warmth spread through her from his touch. 

"Yeah, you did, Sweet Girl. This isn't just any car we are sitting in, it's a Bronco," He explains, bringing his other hand up to wander over her exposed upper arm. Bradley's tone is far from condescending, and now he has Honey under both of his hands. She fights off the shiver threatening to break over her body, crest over the skin like the ocean does that sand. Bradley swears he can feel the electricity flowing under her skin, but maybe that's just his own heartbeat pulsing through the tips of his fingers. 

Then, Bradley takes one hand away from Honey, though it almost physically hurts him to pull his fingers away from the softness of her skin, but he needs her closer. Pulling the handle below his seat, Bradley uses both feet to slide the driver's seat back as far as it can go. It click, click, clicks all the way back and Bradley loses touch of Honey for a second. Then, he is leaning forward, reaching across the center console to pull her straight into his lap. 

The little squeak that escapes Honey is short lived as she settles hard down onto Bradley's strong, wide thighs. She cages them in with her own, her skin pressed up against the cold leather interior of the door and console. Bradley's hands are flashing over her skin, warming her up with the heat of his palms. Then, his hands wind into her hair, sliding up the back of her neck before the tendrils laces through his outstretched digits. A small moan passes Honey's lips as she takes in the depth of his touch, all fever and passion, almost a new, blooming sort of love. 

Their breath mingles together in the small space between them, the tip of Honey's nose all but grazing Bradley's. They are so close, lips just brushes each others, exchanging the same deep breath of air as eyes search faces. The tip of Bradley's tongue skims over the fullness of Honey's low lip and she chases the feeling as he pulls back. The headrest stops Bradley's movements, and Honey's lips meet his just a touch too hard, a carom of a kiss, but Bradley is quickly pulling her back into him, hands in her hair as she messes with the top few buttons of his shirt. 

It's all hot kisses and buttons slipping through fabric, palms to marred skin exploring the imperfect nature of it all. Bradley pulls the leaver on the side of his seat, reclining them backwards, further away from the wheel. The pair are as horizontal as they can get, but Bradley wants more. His hands come up to her ribcage in an attempt to lean her, to guide her to change places. He wants her underneath his own body so he can explore her chest with his tongue. 

Honey is jostled form her perch on top of Bradley, and in a second, she is falling through the door, her hand having caught the handle in an attempt to steady herself in their fruitless effort to switch positions.  Suddenly the rain is now coming in, and Honey is falling out. Bradley isn't quite fast enough, only managing to soften her fall as her ass makes contact with the muddy, sandy, very wet ground. 

The curse is almost off Bradley's tongue as Honey's laughter erupts throughout the air, in harmony with the thunder above. It cracks throughout the sky, shaking the Bronco as the rain slicks down Honey's hair against her skin. Bradley leans out of the cab to look at Honey, his own hair catching it's fair share of the rainfall. The smile spread across her lips is undeniable, and he will look back on this moment and know that this is the exact moment he fell for her. This is exactly what happy looks like, and he yearns for a way to stop this moment just so he can look at her for a little while longer, skin slick with rainfall, her clothes now absolutely soaked through. 

There will be a bruises tomorrow, Honey is sure of it, from sickly yellow to deep purple. She really couldn't care less. Her shorts will be caked with mud from now on, and the t-shirt she is in sticks to her body in a way that feels like she may never get it off, but the whole damn situation is so funny and she can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Bradley is half way out of the door now, reaching for her, wanting to pull her up to her feet and back into the relative safety of the Bronco. They clasp hands, mud from Honey's squelching between their fingers. Bradley braces himself to pull her up, but instead, he slips on the wet metal of the door jamb, and Honey just tugs him the rest of the way out into the wet. 

It's Bradley's turn to laugh now, most of his large body's fall broken by the lovely woman who is now absolutely soaked to the bone. He should apologize, really he should, but she was the one who pulled him out of the Bronco, and she is already laughing from beneath him. 

Their lips meet again, somewhere between the laughter and the muddy touches. There are handprints, some smudged, some clear, decorating each other like maps. They trail over their bodies, a detective could read the desperation in their marks. 

The door above them remains open above them, doing nothing to shield them from the rain as they make love for the first time, down in the muddy ditch on the side of the empty highway. There should be no romance there, but from their desperate hands come gentle touches and their hot mouths birth deep kisses that make the world around them spin, each to dizzy drunk on each other to notice the rain begin to let up. 

Bradley climbs into the Bronco, his white t-shirt speckled see through with rain. The cloud are open and rain falls from them so thick he wants nothing more than to stand up the welcome back party at the Hard Deck. After the way he watched Honey walk away and the fact that he knew he'd be seeing Maverick again after their most recent falling out, the rain seems like a good enough reason to stay in. A call from Phoenix changed his mind, at least partially. 

The Bronco pulls into the hard deck in record time, the rain barely slowing him down. He catches sight of Bob's truck parked near the door and he realizes just how good it will be to see the old team again, to drink at the Hard Deck just like they used to. He can see Penny again, and drink one of her off the menu cocktails and maybe flirt with a bartender if he can find it in himself to do so. 

Bradley unclicks his seatbelt, hand on the doorhandle; he looks down to see the rain markings on the inside of the door, stained into the leather from the last time he saw a storm quite this bad. Bradley thinks of Honey and the way she laughed, the way she looked covered in mud, underneath him, skin warm to the touch even with the chilled rain running over him both. 

That's what happy looks like, Bradley knows that for sure. But, now, Honey is a two-thousand miles and one slammed door away, and Bradley feels like a goddamn broken man. He pushes open the door and lets the rain come in, feeling it on his skin. It's cold and it trails wet lines down his exposed skin. He feels the way his clothes begin to stick to his skin. He swears that he could still feel the way her muddy hands wound around him, pulling him closer. 

Bradley dares to let himself think of her, think of what happy looks like. The rain has never felt so fucking cold. 

[thewulf]

My Treasure || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - I need a Bradley x reader or Jake x reader based on the quote, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first.” Some angst to fluff goodness maybe

A/N: Ahh thank you for the request! You guys always have the best. Hope you enjoy some good old angst/fluff! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 1.7k +

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you watched the small tea candle burn out without a trace of Bradley. It was the sixth time in as many nights that he had let you down. He’d promised you he would be home tonight in time for dinner. You’d gotten ready, decided to look cute for him and cooked his favorite meal. You were excited at the thought of reconnecting with your long-time boyfriend. It had gotten hard before, sure, but this distance was like nothing you’d felt before in the years you had been together. It felt like your worst fears were coming true, he was pulling away from you. Planning to leave you.

With a huff you left the uneaten food on the table for him to see when he got home. You weren’t planning to be there. You called your mom with tears flowing letting her know you were planning to stay with her for the next few nights. She didn’t question a thing and told you your room would be ready. She’d have time to pester later, you needed her not to right now.

In a rush you through your clothes haphazardly into an overnight bag. You’d have to figure out your living situation later. In your haste you hadn’t heard the front door open and close. Or his curse downstairs. Nor his heavy footsteps on the stairs as he walked up to your shared bedroom. You’d only noticed him when he placed a hand on your shoulder sending you into a slight panic as he startled you.

His head cocked to the side in confusion seeing you bag, “Hon, what’re you doing?” He squatted so he was eye level with you.

“To my mom’s.” You turned back to your packing doing your best to ignore the confused man who really shouldn’t be giving you the look he was, or you were going to snap. How could he not have a clue?

He knew he had messed up when you shrugged off his touch, “Why would you do that? We have to eat the dinner you made.”

You shook your head, “It’s cold Bradley.”

He scrunched his nose looking over at you, “I can warm it up hon.” He tried to offer a simple solution to the scowl you were giving off to him.

“That’s not the point.” You were biting your tongue and even he knew that. He wasn’t that clueless, and you knew that.

“I’m sorry I was late… time just got away from us…” He paused seeing you weren’t listening to him. You were going to snap, and you knew it. Why was he out if he knew he was supposed to be home tonight? Why didn’t he seem to care about you?

You looked at him with a sadness he had missed so many times before, “I asked you for one thing Bradley. I’ve asked you for one thing for weeks. I just wanted a night with you.”

He frowned immediately, “I’m so sorry honey. This mission has just been hell. I didn’t want to take it out on you…”

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” You turned to him, standing now. You were irritated. Tired of second guessing yourself, “I’ve been seemingly by myself for the last four weeks Bradley! Do you know how fucking lonely that is? Do you know how I’ve been rattling my damn brain to try and figure out what the hell was going on with you? Did I do something? I’m tired. I’m going to my mom’s. Now move.” He had stood as you ranted at his inaction. He’d never seen you so agitated and heated. You were his calm and collected girl. He really must’ve done a number on you without even realizing it.

“Baby I’m…” You were in no state to hear him out. You’d made up your mind and that was that.

“I followed you across the country.” You let a tear roll down your cheek, “I thought we’d be happy here. My mom lives here. It’s been nothing short of miserable.” You tried moving around him, but he kept stepping in front of you.

“Move Bradley.” You felt that similar irritation bubble up once more.

He shook his head, “Afraid I can’t honey.”

Letting out a breath of frustration you felt the tears welling up once more, “Move!” You yelled at him when he blocked you once more.

“I’m not letting you drive like this Y/N.” He spoke calm and steady now trying his best to reach you in your distressed state.

“Then leave me alone.” You huffed pushing on his chest trying your best to push him out of the room.

“No, let’s talk about this.”

You let out the sob you’d been holding back before exploding on him. You’d really tried your hardest, but you were tired, and it was hurting you to look at him, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first!” You knew it’d hurt him and that’s exactly what you were aiming for, as much pain as you could inflict. Sure, it was childish. But you finally got your point across.

“Baby no.” He shook his head, “That’s not true. Please don’t say that. Please.” He took a step towards you. But you took a step back. He got the hint and let you be.

“You keep saying things but it’s like you can’t stand me anymore Bradley! I don’t know what I’ve done.” You backed up and sat down on your shared mattress. Leaning down you let your head fall into your hands as you finally let yourself cry it out. You finally let all the emotions you’d been holding back come out fully. You’d been making yourself feel crazy and he hadn’t even had a clue anything was wrong.

You felt his hand on your back as he sat down next to you. The felt the dip of the mattress as he did so. This time you didn’t shrug him off or run away. He wasn’t going to let you. He knew your automatic reaction was to run and hide and deal with it on your own. He promised you he wouldn’t let that happen anymore. He was going to be there for you. In whatever capacity you needed. And now you needed to talk for you’d been keeping it in. Bradley wasn’t clueless but he also wasn’t a mind reader. He never ever dreamed of hurting you. His favorite girl. His favorite human. His very best friend. His heart ached as your body wracked and sobbed. He never wanted to see you cry let alone be the reason for the salty tears.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around to even notice this. Work has been… tough. I’m not supposed to tell you this but we’re being tasked with a pretty dangerous mission. One that somebody may not come back from. I don’t want to tell you this to freak you out but I’ve been worried. I have to come home to you. I am making sure of that. And I’ve done that by neglecting you. Please, you have to believe me. We’re not out drinking. We’re prepping, strategizing. Trying to figure how in the hell we’re all coming home.” His voice trailed off as your red eyes and cheeks turned up to him in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Your voice was horse from the crying you’d allowed of yourself.

“It’s classified.” He answered quickly, “I can’t risk getting you in trouble honey. But I should’ve warned you. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded contemplating his words. You knew he was being nothing but sincere and it was you who was overreacting. A flush of embarrassment rose from your chest as you realized it was a big miscommunication between the two of you. It was odd because you were usually so in sync, but you brushed it off.

“I am too. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

He took your chin in his hands, “You didn’t. You’re just reacting because you care. I’m sorry I pushed you away. You have to know you’re never my second choice. Everything I do is for you. Sometimes I lose sight of it thought.” He smiled sheepishly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. You shuddered over his gentle touch.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled letting your eyes close under his gentle gaze.

He hummed brushing his hands along your lips, “I disagree.”

Your eyes opened to look right into his once more. Even after all this time your heart still hammered in your chest when he looked at you like that, “I love you.”

That smile was one you always adored seeing on him, “And I love you my favorite girl.” He kissed your other cheek this time, “I’m sorry I ignored your asks. It won’t happen again.” He smirked right on over at you. Gosh, he really couldn’t believe he was about to let you slip away without even realizing it. He really needed to pull back at work every now and then. He should’ve known you were too kind to complain about him always being gone. He’d ignored your requests for time alone taking you for granted. You’d used your words like he’d asked, and he still managed to mess it up.

“It’s okay.” You nuzzled your head into his hand enjoying his comfort after being apart for so long. Sure he had been here, but he wasn’t really present.

He shook his head, “It’s really not. I’m lucky to have you honey.” He kissed your forehead slowly. Letting his lips linger as he pulled you into his lap, “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let your hands trace along his face smiling brightly as he looked down at you.

He let out a long sigh letting himself just hold you in his arms, “My treasure.” He whispered before finally meeting

You giggled more to yourself when your lips parted, “You’re so cheesy Bradley Bradshaw.”

He nodded giving your side a squeeze, “And you love it.”

You let yourself melt into him feeling all the tension release from your body, “That I do.”

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Mamma Mia | Masterlist

summary: Going back to your hometown for a summer sounded like a good plan before you started your graduate program, what you didn’t count on was having three whirlwind romances with Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, and Bradley ‘Rooster’Bradshaw. And much less, that you would end up pregnant by the end of the summer after they all graduated Top Gun and left. Six years later, Rooster, Hangman, and Bob are called back for a mission and they see you again. Now, with a six-year-old daughter that somehow they think looks exactly like them.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, smut 18+, raising a child alone. warnings will be added as the story progresses.

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw masterlist

jake 'hangman' seresin masterlist

playlist

prologue | chapter one | chapter two| chapter three | chapter four* | chapter five | chapter six (scheduled a week from now- read early on my KO-FII!!!)

updates on monday, wednesday, friday

also, smut:*