Roo - Tumblr Posts

Roo

So here’s a few general theories I’ve got on both Eve and Roo, their role in the story, as well as at least one rather bonkers theory on how they/she are connected to Charlie.

Which means to begin with, we’re going to make the entirely logical step to talk about Rosie.

Because as I said in a couple posts after the finale, I think Rosie is actually Eve.

Or rather, as I now think, Rosie is an ASPECT of Eve.

To begin with, just about everything Rosie does with Charlie in Episode 7 to me just kinda SCREAMS ‘I’m actually a mysterious relative/family friend you never knew about.’ From the way she immediately goes massively out of her way to help Charlie, not just with the more overt problem of the impending extermination, but also her more personal relationship problems, not to mention little touches like how she insists on Charlie calling her ‘auntie’. As well as making a number of small references that could very easily be more direct foreshadowing:

Rosie’s whole ‘first husband’ comment could easily be a dig at Adam, plus her being a cannibal would make for a pretty clever callback to the visual joke of Adam eating ribs in the first episode.

We also have Rosie’s talk with Charlie about her problems with Vaggie, which feel especially relevant in light of the reveal that Eve seems to have had some kind of romance with Lucifer and Lilith. Rosie’s comments to Charlie clearly hint that she has her own regrets towards a failed relationship, which if she is Eve could easily hint at whatever went down between her, Lilith and Lucifer. Not to mention, given the CLEAR parallels that Charlie and Vaggie have to Lucifer and Lilith, it would be all too fitting if it turned out that Eve was the one helping to mend their relationship.

There’s also one other visual detail about Rosie… but more on that later.

So how does this tie back to Roo?

Well you know how I said I think Rosie is an aspect or part of Eve?

I think Roo is the OTHER part of Eve.

As in, I think that Roo and Rosie (hey, look at those similar names) are each the two parts of Eve that split apart when she became the ‘Root of All Evil’.

When you get down to it, I think Roo as a character and her role in the story as a whole is to be a subversive exploration of the idea of the scapegoat and Christian ideas/fixation on guilt and penance. Roo might actually BE this big, terrible ‘Root of All Evil’, ‘Embodiment of Sin’, ‘Unfettered Force of Chaos’, ‘Heart of Hell itself’ ultimate big-bad of the show that much of the fandom is assuming…

But only because she/Eve chose this role out of her own guilt and self-loathing. Eve only believes that she’s this terrible, irredeemable person at the root of all the evils of mankind, and has thus chosen to embody that.

And I think in the process of becoming Roo, this being of pure evil, Eve tried (emphasis on tried) to split off all the ‘good’ within her. Which in turn became Rosie. Alternatively, Rosie could have been deliberately split off from Roo to act as her agent, but may have become self-aware enough that she’s trying to stop/save Roo, hence her going out of her way to help Charlie. And of course this would also neatly explain her friendship with Alastor, himself likely also an agent of Roo.

Which in turn is going to be the crux of her conflict with Charlie, and the ultimate villain redemption of the story. Like of course we’re going to find out about Roo’s big, terrible villainous plots to perhaps corrupt humanity or subsume all of Hell or destroy Heaven and how she’s likely the one pulling Alastor’s strings and has maybe had him essentially ‘feeding her’ Overlords to increase her power and how she’s likely the cause of Lilith’s disappearing seven years ago and ending up in Heaven and all kinds of other things our heroes will have to fight against.

Until we get to our big, final confrontation with Roo and both we and Charlie discover that this terrible being of pure evil is in fact this traumatized, grief-stricken woman utterly consumed by guilt and self-loathing. The one person who, more than anyone else, NEEDS the help and redemption that Charlie has spent the whole show trying to offer others.

And also might be Charlie’s other mom.

Yeah, it’s bonkers theory time :D

So back during the rough… twenty to thirty minutes or so between finishing Episode 7 and seeing the post-credits scene in Episode 8, I was VERY sure that Rosie was actually Lilith in disguise (as you can see from this rather amusing post/reblog :D), for basically all the reason I listed above about why Rosie feels like an in-disguise Eve,

But ALSO because of Rosie’s cheek blush-marks that look CURIOUSLY SIMILAR to Charlie’s own. And if you’ve read any of my numerous Rosebird Parents theory posts, you can imagine I immediately latched onto that.

However! This is NOT a theory that Eve is somehow Charlie’s ‘real mom’. That is stupid and I will not hear Lilith slander in this house. Note instead that I said that Eve might be Charlie’s OTHER mom…

Basically I think Charlie has three parents thanks to Lucifer, Lilith and Eve each actually being some variety of functionally intersex due to wacky angel/demon/primordial-human physiology. And the three of them conceived Charlie Gilgamesh-style via Lilith and Eve knocking up Lucifer.

Hey, I want this show to get WEIRD, okay?

Even just speaking generally, we’re already got more or less soft-confirmation that SOMETHING was going on between Eve, Lilith and Lucifer, and that Eve seemed to have specifically left Adam for Lucifer and Lilith. So I’d say it’s not at all a stretch to think that Lilith, Lucifer and Eve will turn out to be a tragic, broken polycule driven apart by each of their baggage and trauma.

Or that a major aspect of the show will end up being about Charlie (with Vaggie’s (and possibly Emily’s…) help) working to get her parents back together.

In fact, I can already imagine what a suitably cute/heartwarming/feelsy reunion Eve could have with Lucifer and Lilith:

Eve, having just been freed from her self-imposed prison/punishment by Charlie, is about to launch into a guilt-and-regret-laden spiel about how she knows how they must hate her and how she doesn’t deserve them…

Only for Lucifer gives Eve a big cute hug.

And then Lilith gives Eve a Big Damn Kiss XD

Simply put, I think it’s pretty clear that Hazbin Hotel is NOT the kind of the show to just go and make a woman the source of all the evil and sin and bad of the world and seemingly the ultimate big bad and NOT examine, interrogate and SUBVERT THE EVERLIVING HELL out of that concept/trope.

Nobody:

Me: so all the eyes around Hell are supposed to be connected to Roo, so assuming she’s the owner of Alastor’s soul, what if she’s watching through the eye on Alastor’s microphone? What if one reason Alastor reacted so strongly to Husk’s mention of his contract was because he had to put on an act and shut Husk’s smart mouth down to protect him from Roo for knowing about Alastor’s contract? And what if Alastor was able to have his breakdown in the finale because his microphone was busted, cutting off Roo’s surveillance of him?

I thought she was both? Cause this was also posted before the artist deleted it I’m pretty sure.

Am I the only one who isn’t a fan of this type of design for Roo (Root of All Evil)? I would rather her actually be scary, some type of sprawling entity or force rather than a concrete vivziepop character per se. I think a physical form like this takes away from the possible intensity or horror of her. And if she does have a physical form, then I don’t think it should be “pretty” or “aesthetically pleasing woman who’s also evil” core yk? I’d rather her be an eldritch horror who gives me nightmares for the rest of my life. Those are just my thoughts no hate if you disagree!

^ Art from the hazbin wiki

240817 swimming_roo 우리 루는 오래 차타고 이동해도 잘 자구 잘 놀고요. 우리 루는 식당에 들어가서 언니랑 엄마가 밥 먹고 있어도 케이지에서 얌전히 잘 자면서 기다려요.

우리 루는 최고다 👍 사랑해애

[eng tran] Our Roo sleeps well and plays well even when we travel for a long time in the car.

Our Roo sleeps well and waits in the cage while we go into the restaurant and my unnie and mom are eating.

Our Roo is the best 👍 I love you

🍃🌿🌲🐶🌳🌱🍃

Sunday Scaries

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Laboratory Scientist Girlfriend

Summary: Bradley notices you’ve been off lately, especially on Sundays.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Minors DNI, smut, fluff, swearing, probable typos

WC: 4800

As always, this wouldn't be here without @sylviebell and @bobfloydsbabe!

A/N: Side mirrors are very expensive to replace sometimes...A lot of this is based on my last job. The Sunday scaries were very real...

Bradley sat by the pool table, cold Yuengling in hand. It was the second Friday of the month, his night out with the squad. You were having game night with your friends. It had been the routine that the two of you kept in the two years you had been dating. You would get a carefree night with your friends and so would he. But as he watched Phoenix and Bob painfully beat Hangman and Payback, he couldn’t get his mind off you. His stomach flipped. He had been worried about you lately.

He noticed you seemed off recently, especially on Sunday nights. You seemed more agitated, anxious. He was barely able to get you to eat all day, let alone get you to go out of the house. At first, he thought it was because you were overwhelmed at work; more people were quitting, leaving those of you left to pick up the slack. But then he caught you crying in the shower. When he had asked you what was wrong, you brushed him off. That was the first warning bell in his mind. But then he caught you staring blankly at your book the next Sunday, practically catatonic. It was like clockwork. If it was Sunday, you were miserable. He was starting to wonder if it was him. He knew the last deployment had been hard on you, but had it carried over? 

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Phoenix teased, handing her pool stick off to Fanboy.

He just hummed in acknowledgement, peeling the label off his sweating beer bottle. His lip was between his teeth as he tried to focus on anything but thinking about how helpless he was beginning to feel.

“Bradshaw,” she said sharply. His eyes flitted to hers. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to the bottle.

“The stack of mutilated beer labels proves otherwise,” Bob said from beside him.

“Jesus, Floyd,” he hissed, jumping at his proximity. He wasn’t quite sure how Bob always managed to sneak up on him, but it only seemed to get worse each time he did.

“Look, Rooster,” Phoenix sighed. “We beat Bagman and you didn’t have anything to say about it. Now either you’re really missing Dex or something is seriously wrong.” He gulped as she crossed her arms. “Now which is it?”

He closed his eyes, a small sigh escaping him. In all the time he knew Nat, he knew better than to try to lie. She’d just squeeze the truth out of him no matter how painful it was for him. Maybe she would even have some insight. He could have easily been overlooking something simply because he was a guy.

“Is it Dex?” Bob pressed, setting his root beer down.

Bradley dragged a hand over his face. Why was it that Floyd always seemed to pick up on when something was wrong much faster than he did? The man practically had a sixth sense for it.

“Is she okay?” Phoenix asked softly.

“She’s been…off?” He admitted hesitantly.

She paused mid sip to look him straight in the eye. “Off?” Phoenix repeated slowly.

“I think something’s wrong,” he huffed. Hearing himself say it out loud only made his stomach more upset. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

“Do you think the last deployment was too much for her?” Phoenix whispered, taking the seat on his other side.

“Don’t say that,” he whined. “Don’t you dare say that.” His pulse filled his ears as panic set in. Were you pulling away? Was this the beginning? Fuck. He hoped that wasn’t it. He loved you so much. He was thinking about asking your parents for your hand.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s been going on?” Bob suggested meekly, a gentle hand finding his shoulder.

Bradley took a drag of his slowly warming beer. He closed his eyes as he began to speak. “I caught her crying a few Sundays back,” he said softly. “She said it was nothing. But I hear her sobs from the bathroom like clockwork. And she’s barely eating on Sunday nights. She literally ate maybe a cheese stick last Sunday, claiming she wasn’t hungry.” He paused, looking at his hands. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Bradley’s heart was shattering. Maybe you were pulling away after all. Maybe he just noticed it more since you were both home on Sundays. As long as he wasn’t deployed, the two of you were always home on Sundays.

“Bradshaw, I didn’t think you were this thick,” Phoenix teased, knocking his shoulder.

His brow pinched as he studied her face. Was she going to tell him what he was missing?

“Sounds like a case of the Sunday scaries,” she continued.

“The what?” he coughed.

“It’s pretty common,” Bob filled in. “It’s a sense of dread and impending doom for the coming work week.” He paused as he shyly smiled at the two pilots. “It’s different in everyone. Some people get sad. Others anxious.”

“Makes sense to me,” Phoenix added. “Didn’t you say they were making her work ridiculous shifts to cover the lab?”

Bradley sighed. Why didn’t he figure that out earlier. You were stressed, tired. You took off your side mirror two weeks ago after working your third four am to four pm shift. You had been losing weight from it all. The pieces all fit together.

“And hasn’t that hematology supervisor guy been a real dick to her lately?” Bob piped up.

He nodded, a glimmer of hope sprouting in his chest. “The Sunday scaries,” he said softly. Now that he might have a clue of what was happening, maybe he could help you through it.

“Aw,” Hangman jeered, stepping towards the group. “Are you already dreading flying on Monday, Rooster? Afraid I’ll show you up again?”

“Shove it, Bagman,” Phoenix hissed.

Bradley bit his lip. He didn’t want any more opinions on the issue, especially not one from Jake Seresin.

“It’s Dexy, isn’t it?” Hangman prodded, his arrogant smirk fading.

God, Bradley hated that he called you that. He hated that they all called you Dex, even if it was a nod to Dexter’s Laboratory since you worked in a lab. But what he really hated was that out of all the pilots in the squadron, you seemed to have befriended Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

“Bradshaw,” he said sharply. “Is Dexy having issues?”

“What do you two normally do on Sundays?” Bob asked quickly, trying to deescalate the tensions that were quickly growing.

“Bradshaw, maybe if you’d spend a bit more time with your girl instead of your Bronco on Sundays, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Hangman hissed.

“Rooster?” Phoenix’s voice was hesitant.

“Come on, Bradshaw, tell them your routine,” Hangman taunted. “You wake up at dawn, start pounding brews and spend the day in the garage.”

Bradley’s knuckles grew white as he gripped the bottle in his hands. How did he know that Sundays were for his baby? Had you told him? He couldn’t bite back the grimace that contorted his face as rage coursed through him.

“You leave her to her own devices, Bradshaw,” he continued bitterly. “Leave her in that beautiful mind of hers too much on a Sunday, especially when she needs to really get out of that lab.”

His grasp loosened as the red hues of his vision subsided. Hangman figured it out in less than five minutes, and he couldn’t figure it out over the course of weeks. Guilt crashed over him in waves. 

“May…maybe distract her,” Bob suggested. “Book a spa day. Or take her to the beach.”

“Maybe make her a nice dinner on Monday,” Phoenix added.

“Just get her out of her mind for a while, Bradshaw,” Hangman said harshly. He leaned closer, his lips close to Bradley’s ear. “Because if you don’t, I will,” he taunted before walking away. 

Bradley gulped thickly, bile rising in his throat. 

~~

You let out a soft groan as the birds chirping became louder, pulling you from your dream. It couldn’t be time to wake up already, could it? You rolled onto your stomach, burying your head beneath your pillow. Why did it have to be Sunday already? Your groan grew as the chirping got louder. Those goddamn birds were on your shit list. 

You groaned, rolling onto your back, refusing to open your eyes. You heard a faint chuckle as the bed seemed to dip. You stretched your limbs, a delicious ache consuming them. It was a reminder of the night you’d shared with your boyfriend. You moaned slightly as the muscle memory of his mustache tickling you flooded your mind, toes curling at the feeling of him worshipping your body. 

Maybe you were still dreaming. You could swear Bradley was nuzzling your neck at the sensitive spot just below your ear. A louder moan slipped from your lips as his mustache tickled you while his lips left soothing kisses. The chuckle was louder. 

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Bradley whispered lazily. 

You groaned as he placed a kiss on the juncture of your neck, sending a shiver through you.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” he begged. 

Soft kisses peppered your cheeks, sending a warmth through you. You let your eyes flutter open, your boyfriend’s large smile greeting you.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered before capturing your lips with his own.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand gently stroked your cheek. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Kissing Bradley Bradshaw never failed to make you feel light and warm. But when your were barely on the cusp of waking up, it was too much to handle. Your brain was shutting down, ready to let a wave of drowsiness take you under.

“Hey,” he said pulling away. “Let’s sit up, sweetheart.”

He was already tugging you into his lap before you could protest, limbs still on a ten second delay as you tried again to force your eyes open.

“Mmmm,” you groaned as you leaned against his chest. “Baby, what time is it?”

“A little after seven,” he hummed, breath tickling your neck.

Your eyes shot open, anger flaring through you. “Bradley Peter,” you hissed, turning to look at him. “It’s Sunday,” you whined.

“And we have plans, sweetheart,” he said innocently. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“Baby, it’s Sunday, my laundry could’ve waited another hour.” You felt yourself deflate, exhausted tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped in your ear. “I already did your laundry. I even made you breakfast.” He placed a kiss on your neck. “You can sleep in the car.”

“You did my laundry?” You froze. What was he up to? “Didn’t you say you wanted to replace the brakes on the Bronco?”

“Did it yesterday,” he said giving you a squeeze. “I just want to spend the day with my girl.” His chin rested on your shoulder. “Please, sweetheart?” You knew his honey brown eyes were boring into you. You were putty in his hands when he begged. 

“You made breakfast?” You sighed.

“Yes,” he said excitedly. Before you knew it, he had you trapped in his arms, carrying you to the kitchen. “I made your favorite,” he beamed setting you carefully in a chair.  

A plate of French toast and a steaming cup of coffee were placed in front of you.

“Eat up, sweetheart, we’re going for a hike,” he said excitedly before kissing your cheek.

~~~

Your stomach was doing somersaults as he parked at the trailhead. It had been ages since the two of you had been there. It was where he took you on your third date.

“Bradley,” you whispered as he killed the engine. You felt a bit nauseous. “You’re not about to propose are you?” Not that you wouldn’t say yes. You just would’ve wanted to get your nails done, maybe worn something cuter than one of his old TOPGUN tees.

“Sweetheart?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he looked you over. “Can’t a man want to spend a day with his beautiful girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you said sheepishly. You gnawed at your bottom lip. “It’s just…this is where we kissed for the first time…and where you said you loved me…where you asked me to move in…”

“Do you want me to propose today?” He asked with a chuckle. His smile faded as he studied your face, fingers harshly rubbing your palm. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t my plan today, but if you want me to propose, I will. I don’t have my mom’s ring quite yet and I haven’t talked to your parents, but I will get down on my knee and ask you to be mine forever if that’s what you want.” His brows were pinched together, making your heart shatter. He seemed off today, so on edge.

You quickly unbuckled yourself, sliding across the seat. You pulled him down for a kiss, letting your lips mold to his.

“When you do propose, make sure I’m not in one of your ratty old shirts,” you teased breathlessly.

“Noted,” he said huskily, leaning back in. 

But you were already opening your door by the time his eyes fluttered back open. “Race you to our spot,” you teased, slipping from the Bronco.

You ducked between the trees just beyond the trailhead. You wanted to lighten the mood, your anxiety put a damper on his plan, you could see it in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart?” Bradley called out, all but running down the path.

The worry in his voice coaxed butterflies into your stomach. You truly didn’t know what you did to deserve such a man.

“Took you long enough,” you jested, jumping out behind him.

You doubled over with giggles as he let out the highest squeal you’d ever heard. Tears slid down your cheeks as he started laughing with you.

“I’m sorry, Brad,” you all but wheezed once you were moving again. His hand found yours, sending electricity through your veins. 

“You got me good, sweetheart.” He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Do you remember our first hike here?”

“Baby, how could I forget?” You sighed. “You had to carry me all the way to the big rock at the top, insisting that my rolled ankle wouldn’t ruin a thing.”

“Well, I kissed it and made it better, didn’t I?” He gently squeezed your hand.

Your cheeks blazed at the memory. “You kissed a lot of things better that day,” you whispered huskily. Your lip slid between your teeth as you looked at him. His eyes were blown, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Well, ma’am, would you like a piggyback ride?” He asked, eyes flitting to your lips. “I can show you the most scenic make out spot on this side of La Jolla.”

Your skin blazed as two older women walked past you, nodding their hellos. You watched them disappear behind the brush before you hopped onto your boyfriend’s back.

“Lead the way, stud,” you whispered in his ear before playfully nipping at the lobe.

With a soft growl, Bradley started jogging up the hill.

~~~

Bradley had been hopeful that his plan had worked. You surely weren’t thinking about work as the two of you made out in the secluded overlook. At least he hoped you weren’t. The hickeys you left at the base of his neck made him think work was the last thing on your mind. He had to fight you off to even get you to go get pizza. 

But as he slid his keys into the bowl by the door, he noticed the set of your shoulders. Your head hung forward slightly as you disappeared down the hall. It seemed like all the fun the two of you had evaporated the second you stepped through the door. 

Bradley’s heart was shattering. He closed his eyes, wishing his mom was still alive, she would know what to do. A small smile filled his lips. Carole Bradshaw always knew what to do, if she didn’t, she suggested—

“A bubble bath,” he whispered to himself. He smiled warmly at the picture of his parents you insisted on hanging. “Thanks, Mom.”

He walked down the hall to find you on the bed, staring at your hands. The frown tugging at your lips tugged on the strings of his heart. He’d try anything to get you to smile. “Hey, sweetheart?” He said softly. He gulped a breath down when he saw your eyes. Fuck. He hated it when your eyes were even brimming with sadness. It was usually only when you weren’t feeling well. He supposed you weren’t feeling well at that moment either. How did he not catch onto your Sunday blues sooner?

“Want to get a bath? I’ll rub your shoulders too,” he offered. His heart was thrumming as he waited for your answer. What was he going to do if you said no?

“Do we have any bath bombs?” You asked mischievously. He wasn’t particularly fond of your bath bomb collection, but if it would make you feel better, he’d use anything you wanted.

“I picked up a few at the store last week,” he said, chest puffing with pride. Your giggle was addictive, rewarding given the task at hand. He could listen to your laugh for an eternity and it wouldn’t be enough. “Want to grab some candles while I get the water going?”

He snagged you by the waist as you went to pass him, pulling you close to his chest. He peppered your neck with kisses until your body was shaking from your laughter. It took every ounce of restraint to let you go.

He tried not to think about the sorrow in your eyes as he let the tub fill. He pulled up his “Sweetheart” playlist to fill the room. He couldn’t help but dance along as some of your favorite tunes floated from his phone, slowly stripping his clothes as he went. 

After about three songs, Bradley realized you still weren’t back. Panic seized him, his stomach knotting. The candles were just down the hall. He turned to find you propped up against the door, lip between your teeth. He felt heat rush up his neck. He didn’t try to cover up, he simply leaned against the counter, missing and almost falling on his face.

“How…how long have you been standing there?” He asked sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. He noticed the lit candles on the vanity sink.

“Long enough to enjoy the show, Magic Mike,” you teased playfully. “Want to help me get out of these?” You tugged on your shirt as you winked.

He felt himself hardening already under your darkening gaze. Dammit. If he helped you, the two of you wouldn’t make it into the bath.

He cleared his throat trying to clear his mind. “Sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Why don’t I get in the tub, and you give me a little show?” He didn’t wait for your response, slipping into the tub. “It’s the least you could do after getting a free show,” he husked, playfully.

It took every ounce of self-control to keep his hands securely wrapped around the edges of the tub as you started to sway your hips with the music. He barely even registered anything other than you. Your eyes were lust blown as you slowly slipped his shirt off. His knuckles were white as he registered the lacy blue sports bra that he loved. Some of his best memories involved that bra. He was hoping you would take it off next, spilling your perfect breasts to his gaze. But you turned, wiggling your running shorts down slowly, revealing your ass. He gulped thickly as his lungs began to pump furiously for air. He was painfully hard already as you walked closer to the tub, lacy blue thong and bra still on. 

He cursed himself internally because he was supposed to be taking care of you. Now he was trying his hardest to think with his big head instead of his little one. 

You leaned in close, ghosting your lips over his, before turning away, slowly sliding the thong down your thighs. His heart was pounding in his ears as the temperature of the water seemed to rise with his blood. Your bra was unceremoniously tossed to the floor, your back to him. He caught a glimpse of you in the mirror and he wasn’t sure how the coil building in his stomach didn’t snap. Guilt coursed through him, but then you giggled. 

He was in such a daze, trying not to blow his load already that he didn’t register that you were climbing into the tub, bath bomb in your hand. He caught your smile as you settled between his legs.

“How was that lieutenant?” You purred leaning against his chest.

“You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart,” he growled in your ear. His hands dipped under the water, sliding around your middle. “This was supposed to be relaxing,” he sighed.

“I’m far from relaxed, baby,” you said coyly. Your lips brushed over his pulse point. A growl rippled from his chest. His hands seemed to work on their own, skimming over your breasts, tweaking your nipples. He was going to help you relax if it was the last thing he did.

“Brad,” you whined softly. Your eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back into his neck. His breath was becoming ragged. He brushed his lips along your forehead as he let a hand slide under the water, fingers honing in on your clit. His smile grew as your back arched at the contact.

“Like that, sweetheart?” He rasped. 

He watched your mouth open and close, a series of small moans and whimpers falling from your plush lips.

“Are you more relaxed?” He purred as he slipped a finger between your folds.

“Oh, baby…Brad…oh,” you whimpered, spurring his movements to grow faster, a second finger to be added. You were moving your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers and his blood was on fire. His cock twitched as the desire blooming in his stomach was reaching its peak.

“Fall apart on my fingers, sweetheart,” he panted. He was barely keeping his own climax at bay. But then he felt your entire body stiffen, an ungodly loud moan floating from your chest. He felt your walls squeezing his fingers, as you rode out your release. He lost vision as his own orgasm washed over him, your moans and the soft music the only thing tethering him to the world. He hadn’t cum that hard since you wore the red lingerie set for him when he got back from his latest deployment.

When Bradley came to, you were curled into his chest, eyes shut, breathing even. He felt warm despite the cold water the two of you were in. He kissed your hair, closing his eyes. He squeezed you impossibly closer, never wanting to let you go. If this was the new normal on Sundays, he wasn’t going to complain.

~~

Your alarm was blaring, jolting you awake. The room was dark, the space next to you empty. The clock told you it was five. You must’ve fallen asleep in the tub. You felt light at the thought of Bradley getting you ready for bed.

But then your second alarm went off and you knew you needed to get ready for work. Dread washed over you as you realized you never did your Sunday chores. At least you didn’t remember doing them. Your lunch was waiting in the fridge as always, so maybe you did do a few things after all.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it, Pete was waiting outside to drop you off on his way to work. Guilt weighed you down as you scurried out the front door to his Jeep. Bradley had been adamant that you were not driving to work anymore after the side mirror incident. You understood his point, but that didn’t do much to quell the embarrassment you felt as you ran out to whoever’s car it was that day.

But soon even that feeling was lost. You were stuck with Bill, the unbearable hematology lead all morning, barely a moment to think for yourself. Anger bubbled inside you as he barked out tasks for you, he himself not moving an inch from his chair. He left you with a stack of critical results to call when he went on his lunch. You were so close to just walking out and never looking back.

Maybe that was why you were so caught off guard when you finally sat down to eat your lunch and you found a note from Bradley.

Sweetheart,

Hope your day is going well. Couldn’t let my girl starve, could I? I even threw in a couple kisses. I hope they can hold you over until I get home.

All my love,

Bradley

Tears streamed down your face as it hit you that he put you to bed and packed your lunch. He even cut your sandwich into a heart, making yours flutter. This man was perfect and somehow, he chose you.

Anticipation bubbled throughout you as your day ended. You wanted to see him, needed to see him. Bob hadn’t even stopped his truck before you hopped out. 

“Bradley?” You called, as you kicked off your shoes. You expected to find your boyfriend relaxing on the couch when you got home. A sizzling from the kitchen had you running. The room was tinged with smoke and every alarm bell went off in your head. But you froze. There he was. Your boyfriend, wearing your favorite Hawaiian shirt with the palm trees on it. Your heart swelled just watching him. Whatever he was making smelled delectable.

“Bradley?” You repeated softly.

He turned, smile filling his face. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, making your knees week.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” He asked as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He placed a delicate peck on your lips, the taste of salt and hops lingering on his. Your shoulders relaxed instantly at his touch.

“Terrible,” you sighed. “Apparently it’s my fault that Bill was scheduled to work four to three like the rest of us tomorrow,” you huffed. “Some fucking leader.” You shut your eyes tight. “Told Annie about it since she’s the only one above a lead and she told me to grow a backbone.”

Bradley slid a margarita across the counter to you. You took a sip, letting the salty sweetness wash away all of your stress. “But someone left me kisses in my lunch,” you added softly.

He leaned across the countertop, stopping inches from your lips. “Well, it worked, sweetheart,” he purred. You felt dizzy being so close to him. “You made it home to me.” He pecked your lips before shutting off the burners.

“What’cha making, chef?” You asked leaning forward.

“Your favorite,” he said proudly. “Pepper encrusted steaks.” He took off the apron from around his neck. “I have something for you.”

Your heart was pounding as he disappeared down the hall.  Tears stung in your eyes as you caught a glimpse of your dinner. He only made that dish for your birthday or your anniversary.

“Close your eyes,” he called out. 

You squeezed them shut comically tight, not wanting to ruin whatever surprise he had planned. 

“Open,” he said softly.

A large bouquet of roses was staring back at you. You were so overwhelmed. The tears started pouring down your face in streams. Bradley had you in his arms before you could even protest.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He whispered. His thumb traced lazy circles on your arm.

“What’s going on, Bradley?” You asked meekly. “Between yesterday and today…did something happen? Is it another deployment?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve been struggling for a while on Sunday nights,” he explained gently. “It breaks my heart seeing you so upset. I didn’t know how else to help.”

You pulled him impossibly closer, sobbing onto his chest. You didn’t realize it until he mentioned it, that was the best Sunday you’d had in a while. French toast and a hike to your favorite spot. And that relaxing bath. Your body was trembling as you combed over the day. How did you not see his ulterior motives?

“Sweetheart?” He asked, brushing tears from your cheeks.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You whispered. You watched color rush to his cheeks through your tear-filled eyes.

“You’ve got it backwards,” he chuckled. He leaned in, kissing you softly. “I don’t deserve you.” He paused, kissing your nose. “And I’m going to do everything I can to make you happy, sweetheart.” He brushed his nose against yours. “Because I love you so much that it hurts me when you’re hurt.”

“I love you, Bradley,” you breathed onto his lips, “I love you so much.” 

Tagging anyone I think might enjoy this!

@sylviebell @xcastawayherosx @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @roosterforme @townmoondaltwistle @ereardon @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @discount-shades @xomrsalliej4787xo @emorychase @yanna-banana @endofdays56 @mothdruid @tongue-like-a-razor @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger

I do not consent to my work being copied, translated, or published anywhere else.

would you perhaps be able to do “please talk to me” from the angst list with bradley?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

when Rooster wakes up, he doesn't get even one moment of normalcy. usually when he wakes up beside your sprawled figure, he peppers your shoulders with lazy kisses. then slink out of bed, brushes his teeth, slips into his tennis shoes, and goes for a run down the shoreline. sometimes he even watches the sunrise there, panting, taking an earbud out to hear the gulls caw. sometimes he'll even grab smoothies for the both of you on his way home, and hop in the shower as you finally woke up, lips wrapped half-heartedly around a neon straw.

but you're not in bed when his eyes flicker open for the first time today. your side of the bed is crumpled, cold. you've been out of bed for a while.

the morning light is gray--not an early morning gray, but an endless slate. one that means rain, probably.

he glances at the clock, head muddled from his deep sleep, and sees that it's almost 11am. he sits up, brows furrowed, and feels that hollowness grow inside of him immediately. it's like a jolt--something that infects wholly and completely immediately.

oh. his body is reminding him.

today is November 7th.

how could he forget?

instead of jumping out of bed like he usually does, which is a habit he vaguely remembers his father having, he allows his shoulders to slump and his chest deflate. he sinks back into the covers, feels his eyes grow heavy, and pulls the blankets up beneath his chin.

there are two days of the year that Bradley lets himself stay in bed all day: July 29th and today. the anniversary of both of his parents deaths.

you're trying to balance this goddamn tray of food as you walk up the stairs in your monkey slippers, cursing yourself for settling so many beverages on here. does Bradley really need three choices?

whatever, you think. he'll have his pick of the litter at least.

the bedroom door is cracked just enough for you to carefully back your elbow into--just enough for you to step into the room in near-silence except for the shivering glass on the metal tray in your hands.

honestly, you're expecting Bradley to be asleep still. he slept in on that hot day in July, didn't say much at all, just pressed his face against your belly and let M*A*S*H reruns play all day. after, you'd felt guilty; you hadn't done much to make him feel better, stupefied from being this close to such palpable grief. your only prerogative was being there for him, which is how you ended up staying beneath the sheets despite the heat.

but you find Rooster's knit brows and glossy eyes immediately. in your spot in the doorway, you freeze, then grin.

"well, good morning, merry sunshine!" you say softly. "how'd you sleep?"

Bradley's just staring at you, eyes moving from the tray and back up to your wanton gaze as he slowly begins to sit up against the headboard.

"fine," he tells you.

"thought you'd still be asleep," you tell him, shuffling to the bedside carefully. "hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! and I hope you're hungry, 'cause I made a little bit of everything."

Rooster, stunned, just watches you with his hands in his lap. you're wearing his class t-shirt from high school and an old pair of cotton underwear, your eyes bleary and your hair untouched. but all the same, you're grinning at him, nodding for him to move his hands from his lap.

"for your drink selection, we've got coffee, orange juice, and a strawnana smoothie--if you're feeling frisky. for our meats we've got turkey bacon, Impossible Sausage, regular bacon, and--well, are eggs meat? no, right? okay, moving on," you say, shrugging as you point to all the foods as you list. "then we've got scrambled eggs--lots of cheddar cheese and no sage this time, okay? I won't do that ever again, baby, I promise!" you press a lewd and sweet kiss to his forehead before continuing. "and then we've got two pieces of French toast with maple syrup--like that healthy kind you like, the one that gets, like, milked from the trees or whatever. we've also got a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with the sprinkles I know you like but you won't admit it, so we'll say that I like sprinkles in my pancakes! and then the usual suspects--grapefruit, cinnamon oatmeal, sliced apples, grits. pick your poison!"

and that is when Bradley suddenly lets his head tip forward, tears spurring from his eyes suddenly as if a spice had been broken.

oh fuck. this isn't what you meant to happen.

"baby?" you ask tentatively, holding the back of his head with a frown planted on your lips. "I was just kidding about the sprinkles."

with his face angled down, he can see those stupid monkey slippers on your feet. he can see the eggs you made just right, leaving out the sage you sometimes like to sneak in. he can see the different beverages and the rainbow sprinkles. he can even see the sly nibble you took out of his French toast.

he is totally and completely overwhelmed--but it isn't by grief right now. it's love. love and affection and honey and everything else in the world that is sweet and perfect.

"talk to me, baby," you whisper, shuffling to move the tray from his lap and sitting on the bed. he immediately lets his face fall on your shoulder, choking on his sobs. "please."

November 7th was the worst day of his life--one of them, at least. it was when his mother let go, moved on, left him behind. he remembers how peaceful it was when she was gone: all the monitors turned off, the IV drips empty, her face slacked and serene. and he remembers being so angry about it all--why did she have to go to be okay again?

but now it's November 7th and he's eating breakfast in bed and you're in your monkey slippers and those old panties and stroking his hair. he feels entirely swollen with it--love.

"I love you so much," he tells you, unable to put it any differently. "and I really do like sprinkles in my pancakes."

the knot in your throat dissipates at his words. you never push him to talk about his grief--only nurture it when he trusts you enough to speak on it.

so, you kiss his head a few times, hold him against you.

"that was really brave of you to admit," you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs through his tears, sniffling, tracing your spine with his fingers delicately.

"I know," he sniffles. not so subtly, he wipes his nose on your tee. you don't mind it one bit. "you're my best friend."

"me?" you whisper, voice thin with emotion. but you know that you can't start crying, too. so, you clear your throat. "you must be a real loser then."

he laughs weakly, inhaling all that sleep on your skin.

"yeah," he agrees. "I must."

𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 | bradley "rooster" bradshaw

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f!reader 1,920 words warnings; smut and fluff<3 summary; nothing about your life feels real anymore. but it's all real. the wedding, the hotel room, the bed, the sex, bradley-- they're all real. everything feels straight from the movies, the stories, the songs.

 “Mornin’, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

 She was awoken by Bradley’s full weight on top of her, his lips peppering soft kisses all over her face, his mustache prickling her skin. She groaned, sleepiness weighing heavy on her eyelids as she pawed at his face with her palms, trying to push him away. 

 “Bradley,” she groaned, unable to stifle her laugh when he playfully nibbled on her cheek. “It’s so early!” She whined, squinting her eyes at the window as the morning sun cracked like an egg yolk to spill into the hotel room. Bradley rolled his eyes at this, “it’s only like…” he paused to lean over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, tapping his phone screen repeatedly until it finally lit up, “…seven in the morning.”

 She groaned and threw her head back into the pillow as Bradley caressed the side of her neck with one hand, tangling his fingers of the other in her hair. She pressed her lips together in a scowl as he kissed down her face, giving her jaw playful nibbles. 

 “Couldn’t even sleep in the morning after my wedding,” she grumbled, Bradley’s smile a crescent against her flesh. 

 “Sorry baby, you signed up for this the moment I put a ring on it,” he chuckled, nuzzling the bridge of his nose against her chin. “I dreamt about you last night though,” he murmured against the underside of her jaw as his kisses trailed down to her neck, her body quaking with each sloppy kiss he pressed into her skin. “Is that right?” She asked, her voice riddled with sleep. “Mhmm,” he hummed against her collarbone, pinching her flesh between his teeth. She emitted a quiet whimper at this, her back arching off of the mattress so that her chest heaved into his. “Dreamt about us like, sixty years in the future when we’re all old and gray and have a bunch of grandchildren crawling around under our feet.”

 She raised an eyebrow at this and peeled an eyelid open, peering down at him as he littered kisses across her throat to the other side of her neck. “Jesus, Bradley, we literally got married yesterday and you’re already thinking that far ahead?” She couldn’t help but chuckle at this, releasing a soft moan when he gently bit down into her skin, leaving a small, dark mark just above her collarbone. 

 “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his kisses trailing back up her neck to her chin and all the way back to her lips, his mustache tickling just below her nose. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he whispered against her lips before they were on hers, taking her breath away with a slow, passionate kiss that made her toes curl and heart pound against her chest. 

 She moaned into his mouth when he shifted his hips, suddenly aware of how naked they were beneath the covers. Once again, his kisses trailed down her chin to her neck, moving his body down the bed as his lips worked at the skin just above her breasts, his palms soothing over her waist and to her hips. She squeezed her eyelids closed as his kisses ventured lower until they reached her breasts, whimpering when he gathered one of her erect nipples in his mouth. 

 “Bradley,” she mewled when he let go of her breast with a wet pop, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he kissed his way to the other, giving her peaked bud a few featherlight, teasing kisses. “Quit teasing,” she whimpered, a pout tugging at her bottom lip as her fingers wove through his short brown hair, giving his roots a pull. 

 His smile curved around her breast and he pulled away from her chest altogether, pushing up onto the palms of his hands to hover just above her face, his breath a warm fan over her skin. “But you’re just so cute,” he whispered, kissing just below her eye. “And now you’re all mine.”

 She hissed through her teeth when he ground his hips down into hers, feeling the leaking tip of his cock prod against her clit, her eyelids fluttering closed. “I’ve…” she began, breathless as the head of his erection trailed down her slit, pressing against her entrance. “…fuck,” she muttered. “I’ve always been yours,” she managed to breathe out when he slipped himself inside, the tip just barely pushing in before she was crying out, cradling the back of his neck with one hand, gripping his bicep with the other. 

 “Yeah,” Bradley sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he pushed himself further in until he was fully sheathed inside of her cunt, his head pounding with how tight and warm she was. “But it’s official now. You’re stuck with me forever.”

 She managed to chuckle, biting back a moan when he began to move, wrapping her legs around his waist so that her heels could dig into the small of his back. Bradley’s mustache pricked her skin as his kisses ventured up her neck, over the curve of her chin, all the way to her lips. 

 He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips, pressing his elbows into the mattress on either side of her head and cradling her face, brushing back loose strands of hair behind her ears. “Look at me,” he whispered, the pads of his thumbs swiping over her closed eyelids. 

 She whimpered when the head of his cock prodded her cervix, her vision hazy with tears when she let her kids flutter open. Bradley was there to collect the droplets of tears that managed to escape her sockets, and as she blinked the blurriness from her vision, she could make out warm, hickory eyes gazing down at her, consumed with tranquility, lust, love. 

 God, Bradley didn’t even need to say it, just his eyes alone were enough to assure her that he was absolutely in love. With only a mere glance or brief touch upon her skin, he was able to convey a million thoughts, a million words, a million feelings. She felt loved even when they were apart— he was so good at turning the little things into his own love language. 

 So feeling him like this, having him fucking her so deep and having him so close to her was so intense, made her feel like she was drowning in his love. How could she have gotten so lucky? He was like a man straight out from the movies, the stories, the songs. 

 “I love you,” Bradley murmured when their eyes surged into one another’s. “Gonna show you off to the whole world. Do you know what I’m most excited for?”

 She whimpered again, feeling herself clench around him as he continued his slow and steady space inside of her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone as my wife,” he chuckled against the corner of her lips. “Can’t wait to take you to a restaurant, just so I can say ‘yes, I’d like a table for me and my wife here.’” 

 Her chest heaved with a laugh, even through her early morning fucked-out haze, even with Bradley’s cock pressing bruises into her cervix. “You’re silly,” she giggled as he kissed the tip of her nose. “My husband is the silliest.”

 He beamed at the name, “husband. That’s right, I’m your husband,” he murmured against her lips, his hips quickening their pace but still, his cock reached just as deep. She could feel the knot begin to tighten at the pit of her belly and she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her eyes wet with her approaching orgasm. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he muttered, dropping his forehead down onto hers, using his elbows against the mattress as leverage to fuck her harder, impossibly deeper. “Gonna take care of my wife.”

 Tears fell in streams down the sides of her face as she clenched, opening and closing her mouth to try and tell him that she was so close. Nothing was coming out, she couldn’t speak. All that could emit were meek little whimpers and incoherent babbles, but Bradley soothed back her hair, pecking her lips. 

 “It’s alright, darlin’. You can let go for me. Come for me, baby.”

 Bradley cooed sweet little nothings against her lips as he pounded her further into the mattress with just a few more toe-curling thrusts, her lips falling agape as her back arched off of the bed, nails etching crescents into his shoulders. She could feel him release his spend inside of her just as she, too, let herself go, muffling her sobs in the curve of his shoulder. Her body quaked from the force of her orgasm, and how lucky she was that Bradley was there to catch her, to lull her back to reality, to ease her down from her high. She came so hard, so lost in pleasure that she almost couldn’t breathe. 

 “Shh, shh. I’ve got you, baby,” Bradley murmured against her lips before enveloping them with his in a kiss, wiggling his arms beneath her to wrap up her body and hold it close to his. She panted and her cheeks were swollen with the sticky remnants of tears, but Bradley was there to kiss every single salty droplet away from her skin. “So beautiful,” he whispered, cradling her head and holding it close to his chest. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

 Her lips curved into a weak smile, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. “Always take such good care of me,” she murmured into his skin. “I’m the luckiest wife in the world.”

 Bradley beamed down at her, peppering her face with a few playful kisses before forcing his body off of hers, leaning down to press his lips against the crown of her head. “I’m gonna start the shower,” he muttered beside her ear. “Come join me when you’re ready.” 

 He gave her hand a squeeze, their eyes locked on one another as he pulled away, disappearing into the hotel room’s bathroom. She laid there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling above, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that this wasn’t just a dream. 

 Bradley was real. This hotel room was real. This bed was real. The sex was real. The wedding ring on her left ring finger was real. It was all real. This was her reality now. 

 She turned her head towards her bedside table where a small, brown leather book rested, a pen lying on the top. With as much strength as she could muster, she reached for the book and pulled herself up into a sitting position, letting her back fall against the headboard. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of rushing water begin to fall as Bradley turned the shower handle, humming a soft tune that vibrated the walls. 

 She peeled open the cover of the book and flipped through the pages until she found an empty one, projecting her thoughts onto the page and transforming them into lyrics, song lyrics. 

 “Hey,” Bradley called from the doorway a few moments later, eyeing between her and the book in her lap. “Are you coming?” He asked with a pout, and she breathed a laugh, nodding as she finished the word she had been writing, slamming the book shut and setting it back on its place on the nightstand. “Yeah.”

a/n; I FINALLY POSTED FOR BRADLEY AGAIN pls this man has literally taken over me, it's shocking i haven't written more for him yet lol anyways this hardly had any plot but i still hope you all enjoyed<3

TAGLIST;

@oliviajdjarin 🤍💞🤍💗🤍✨

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw X Reader

Summary: When a bad day hits his girl hard, Bradley isn't one to let her suffer alone. So he does his best to help her out, even if that involves laying on top of her.

Warnings: Bradley being a sweetie, sensory overload, cuddles, a little angst, Bradley Bradshaw (because come on, that man is a warning unto himself), also barely proof-read and purely self-indulgent...

Word Count: 2200

===

The car door slammed shut behind you as you clenched your jaw in effort not to cry. Today had been horrid; losing your favourite water bottle somewhere between the house and work, no parking where you needed there to be, and on top of it all, your boss, blaming you for a mistake on a project that wasn’t yours to begin with. It was enough to drag even the brightest, happiest person down, and while you weren’t that person, you certainly tried to keep a positive mindset. 

But today just flat out sucked. All you wanted to do was curl up in bed in your pyjamas and your boyfriend’s t-shirt that you always stole, but life couldn’t be that easy. The house was still a mess from breakfast, a hasty affair due to the fact that your alarm didn’t go off, and it had to be cleaned up before you could even think about dinner. On top of that, Bradley wasn’t home. It was late for the both of you to be arriving home, and his absence just made the lump in your throat just that much bigger. 

You made it in the door, dropping your bags on the hardwood in the front entryway and just letting out a strangled huff, the only expression of your overstimulation that you could muster. It was like everything was too much and not enough all at once. And not in a good way. The sound of the now-falling rain pattering on the window panes had you gritting your teeth, trying desperately to hold it together long enough to change out of your work clothes. At least you weren’t caught out in the downpour. 

Closing your eyes in a frantic attempt to keep your wits about you, you navigated upstairs, flopping backwards on the unmade bed that you knew would make Bradley cringe. God knows why you had to fall for a Navy man. He could be a neat freak when he wanted to be and while he usually wasn’t, the bed was the one thing that could make a whiskey-coloured eye twitch. It was the last thing you needed. Yet another thing on the list, another item precariously thrown onto the comically large pile of stuff to do that you were struggling to balance. 

Your breath punched out of you, heart pounding in your ears as your clothes felt too tight on your body. Everything was just too much. 

Too loud. 

Too quiet. 

Too bright. 

Too… everything. 

“Fuuuuccckkk…” you whined, covering your eyes with your shaking hands. Your chest clenched, body struggling to reorient itself as you cried. 

Your mom and sister had told you that sometimes a good cry fixed everything, and right now, you were really hoping that they were right because everything was going wrong. But the lights were too much, so begrudgingly and painfully slowly, you made your way over to the light switch, flipping it off and collapsing back onto your bed, letting the tears flow. 

You relinquished your control on your feelings and just cried. Your head hurt, your chest ached as you tried to take in another breath into your desperate, air-starved lungs. “Why today?” You mumbled, burying your face into Bradley’s pillow. His scent was still clinging to the fabric, offering you some small relief in the smell of your apple body wash and his cedar and bergamot shampoo. 

God you just needed Bradley here. Needed him to hold you close, just wrap you up in a tight hug where the world wouldn’t be so loud, where you could just forget about the shit you had endured all day. That was all. 

You didn’t know how long you had laid there or when your tears had stopped, but you had. And your chest just ached, both from crying and the numbness that was settling into you like storm clouds gathering in a valley. The world was still too noisy. Too bright even as you lay in the dark, still wearing your work clothes and your body half-hanging off the bed. 

It was at this moment that your boyfriend came barging into the room, flicking the light on, humming some random song. Bradley had no idea you were in there. He knew you were home, but he honestly had no idea where you were, but figured that changing was probably his best move before he found you. 

It was enough for you to groan, tears welling in your eyes once more. You had been so close to sleep. So damn close. And then your handsome, loveable, oaf of a boyfriend just had to make noise. 

“Babe? What’s going on?” Bradley had just stripped off his flight suit, changing into a clean t-shirt when he’d heard your muffled groan. He found you curled up on the bed, head half under his pillow and still dressed in your work clothes, which was odd for you. You usually tossed your work clothes off the second you could. Something about taking off the day’s events with your blouse and bra. So he knew immediately that something was wrong. 

“Babe?” Bradley was loud, even his questioning tone was too much. It felt like pieces of sandpaper rubbing together, a coarse scraping sound that seemed to resonate in the air around. It was just too much.

“Itstoomuch,” you moaned, cursing yourself for the tears falling down your face yet again. “‘S too loud.” 

Bradley paused, mind whirring on how he could help. “How can I help?” He whispered, kneeling on the edge of the bed. “Babe.” 

“Clothes,” you mumbled, rolling onto your back. You kept his pillow over your face, trying to block out the light. “Help, please.” 

He nodded, moving as quietly as he could around the bed so he was closer to you. Fingers slipped the buttons of your shirt from the button holes, trying not to touch you more than necessary. Bradley knew that you got overstimulated sometimes and one of the first conversations the two of you had had when you had started living together was about how he could help when this inevitably happened. 

When the last button slipped free, Bradley set about pulling a t-shirt of his over your head, moving the pillow just enough to slip it on. Your bra was unclasped and tossed behind him, and normally when that happened, you couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t get enough of his large hands roaming your body, the gentle, teasing scrape of his mustache against the sensitive skin… but that wasn’t today. And your absolute gem of a boyfriend knew that from one glance. You didn’t deserve him, not when he was clearly exhausted from work and was taking care of you. It was enough to make you start crying again, making your boyfriend freeze. 

“Babe? What’s going on?” Bradley was concerned, well, more concerned than he already was. “What’s wrong?” 

You mumbled something, but because the pillow was in the way, he understood none of what you had said. So he reached for his pillow, gently pulling it away, and immediately noting the tear stains on your face, the puffiness of your eyes and his heart sank. How long? 

“What was that?” He whispered, trying to get answers but also trying his best to keep his voice down. “Babe, I didn’t hear what you said.” 

“You don’t have to… do all this,” you replied, tears still leaking from your eyes. 

“‘Course I do, babe. You’re my girl, and my girl isn’t feeling good.” His amber eyes were full of concern, tracking the tears rolling off your cheeks and his mouth was drawn into a line. All Bradley wanted to do was help, but he didn’t know what you needed right now. “I’m staying here. So what do you need?”

“Can you lay on top of me?” 

“What?” Bradley blinked at you. “Honey, I’d squish you.” 

The idea made you crack a small smile. “It’s hard to explain, okay? Weighted blankets are supposed to help with this…” you trailed off, gesturing up and down your body. “And we don’t have one, so can you lay on top of me?” 

“I’m going to get you out of your work pants first because they can’t be comfortable, and then… I guess I’m laying on top of you?” He rubbed at his jaw, looking unsure before doing just as he said he would. 

Bradley knelt on the bed, knee-walking up a little higher before he stretched out, slowly pressing his weight on top of you, pausing as you started to giggle, which made him chuckle. “You okay, babe?” He asked, looking quite amused by the whole situation. Maybe half his total weight was on top of you, the rest kept off of you as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching your face try and school itself back into a neutral expression. 

Once you’d stopped giggling, Bradley lowered himself all the way down on top of you. He felt you sigh, your head turning into the crook of his neck. Bradley wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a little ridiculous laying on top of you like a dead fish, but if it helped you feel better, then he would do it a million times over. “Is this helping?” He mumbled, feeling you try and wiggle underneath him. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed. And it was. The pressure was comforting, grounding and it made you feel like the world wasn’t suffocating you anymore. All you could feel was the soothing weight of your boyfriend on top of you, and his slow, steady breathing that helped slow your own breathing down. “Thank you B.” 

You could feel him smile into your neck. “Good.” A beat, then he spoke again. “Can I hold you now?” He’d propped himself up on his elbows again, allowing himself to look you in the eyes. “C’mon babe. Let me cuddle my girl.” 

Heaving a sigh, you nodded, watching him roll off of you onto his side. Bradley settled himself before making grabby hands in your direction, grinning as you rolled your eyes and shuffled into his arms. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. One hand held the base of your neck, fingers weaving up into your hair, while the other curled around your lower back and finding its home on your bare hip under the t-shirt. “Happy?” You mumbled into his skin, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him, before pulling back and wrinkling your nose at him. “You stink.” 

He laughed. “Well now I’m not happy because my girl wants to leave me,” Bradley complained dramatically, abruptly letting you go and rolling away. “I lay down on top of her and this is the thanks I get? Unbelievable!” 

His dramatics made you laugh as you pulled him back over to face you. “Bradley! Come on!” You were laughing too hard to get a good grip on his arm and you fell back onto the bed beside him, hearing him try and stifle his own giggles at your feeble attempt to pull him over. “Honey, come on! I’m sorry!” 

Bradley’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as you tried yet again to get him to face you, laughing all the while. It was in sharp contrast from how he’d found you some 20 minutes earlier, but you were clearly feeling better. So when you pulled at his arm again, he rolled over suddenly, laughing at your sudden shriek. Light was back in your eyes and the only tears falling were those of joy as you giggled at him. It made him grin widely before reaching over to pull you on top of him. 

You watched Bradley grin and you couldn’t help yourself, ducking down to peck him on the lips quickly before trying to clamber off him and the bed as quickly as you could. However, you didn’t get far. Bradley’s arms shot out, catching you around the hips and pulling you back onto the bed. 

“Where do you think you’re going, babe? Hmmm?” His teasing grin made you blush, but you bit your lip in an attempt to push it away. 

But then he rolled so that you were under him, as he held himself up by his hands. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, smiling up at him. You would never get over how pretty Bradley was. Even in the darkness surrounding you both, you knew that you could picture his face as perfectly as you would have with the lights on. 

“Running away from me…” he trailed off, before peppering kisses all over your face and neck, making you squeal and try in vain to push him off of you. 

“Bradley!” You shrieked. “I didn’t mean it!” His lips were everywhere; kissing your nose, cheeks, your jaw, but not your lips. So you caught his face, drawing him in for a sweet kiss. You poured your thanks into the gesture, hoping he understood just how much he’d helped. 

And he did. Bradley had promised himself to be there anytime he could when you needed him. Even if that took him laying down on top of you like he had on a day like today. A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. 

===

A/N: This was my first Bradley-centric piece! It was born out of the full day of sensory overload that I had and life suck, but, art imitates life so please be nice! Thanks for reading!

Tagging some people who might be interested: @mayhemmanaged @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @horseshoegirl @lovinglyeternal @sarahsmi13s @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @bradleybeachbabe @roosterbruiser @seresinsweetie @footprintsinthesxnd @roosters-girl @thedroneranger

once again in deep emotional turmoil because i need a man like this so badly :(

A Rooster to Care for Me | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley loves to take care of you when you have your period.

Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff

Length: 700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? but it can be read on its own!

Check my masterlist.

You curled yourself into a ball on the living room couch, clutching your heating pad to your abdomen. Sometimes when you had your period, nothing seemed to take the edge off of the cramps and achiness. You glared at the glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table, which had done nothing to help. 

Bradley walked in the front door, whistling Great Balls of Fire and bobbing his head happily. He was still in his flight suit and clearly in a good mood. He took one look at you and quickly set down his wallet, phone and keys. 

"Baby Girl, you okay? You have your period?" His eyes tracked the cord coming from the heating pad plus the pain medicine. 

"Yeah," you groaned as he knelt on the floor in front of the couch. "I feel awful."

He pushed your hair back from your face and kissed your cheek. Let's get you changed out of your uniform. That should help." 

He hopped up and disappeared past the kitchen, soon returning with your favorite sweatpants and one of his old tee shirts. He helped you stand up and get undressed, all of his touches so gentle. He unhooked your bra, kissed your shoulders, and pulled his huge shirt over your head. As you stepped into your sweatpants, he pulled them up and tied them loosely at your waist. 

"Better?" he asked, pulling you against him for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist and nodded into his chest.

"Better. I'm just tired. And hungry," you griped, already feeling more relaxed as Bradley ran his hand up and down your back.

"I have an idea. How about you curl up on the couch and try to take a little nap. I'll go pick up some groceries and a pizza, yeah?"

"Okay," you agreed, and he set you up with the heating pad once again. You closed your eyes and listened as he went to the kitchen and made a quick grocery list. He was still humming his song, but more quietly this time.

"I'm heading out now. Do you need anything else, Sweetheart?"

"Yes, get me more tampons, please."

"The ones in the pink wrappers or the ones in the green wrappers?"

"Green ones," you said with a smile, because he actually cared to know about which brands you preferred.

"Okay, I'll be back soon."

You dozed off and didn't wake once until you heard keys in the front door again. Bradley carried in an armful of shopping bags along with a huge pizza box. He went about putting some things away in the kitchen and getting some pizza slices on a plate for you. Then he queued up your favorite playlist on his phone.

You sat up and nibbled on your dinner as you watched him finish organizing everything he bought. He hadn't bothered to change out of his flight suit before going to the store. You smiled a bit, knowing how many women and even some men ogled him when he had it on in public. He was just stupid hot looking.

"You want a glass of wine?" he asked, holding up two bottles from across the room. You nodded and pointed to the bottle in his left hand, and he smiled. Within twenty minutes, Bradley had changed into some shorts and joined you on the couch. There were two glasses of wine on the coffee table, plus two plates of pizza and a carton of ice cream. 

His hands were working wonders, rubbing your lower back as you draped yourself across his lap. Occasionally you would pop up to take another bite of pizza or half melted ice cream before returning to the comfort of his lap. 

"I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks for taking care of me."

He chuckled. "You take care of me every day. If I can try to take care of you for a few days each month, I'll do it every time, Sweetheart."

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

This was highly self-indulgent and loosely based on my husband. I'll bring you some more angst and smut next time, I promise! Thanks for reading!

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Leave a Light On {vol. ii}

Summary: Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated. After three months away, he is finally home.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(read vol. i here)

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

That voice. His voice.

You’d been running your fingertips over the smooth keys of his piano, just about to settle them back into the starting position of the part of the song that had tripped you up in the first place. One breath away from launching into that tricky portion yet again, when you were nearly startled out of your skin. Surprise and shock shooting up your spine, the pencil in your hand sent flying.

Of all the sounds you would have expected to hear in the hazy, quiet small hours of the morning, the gentle rasp of Bradley’s voice wasn’t one that you ever could have anticipated.

Your pulse is pounding wildly, in your chest, in your throat, in your ears, as you swiftly spin around towards his front door.

And there leaning against the wooden doorframe of his house, wearing his green flight suit with a canvas seabag still clutched in hand, is Bradley.

Healthy, whole, and here.

“Bradley!” You’re up and off his creaky piano bench in less than half a heartbeat.

You had wanted to be the one to surprise him, but here he was surprising you. His arms wide and welcoming.

If his body was any less solid you might have knocked him over in the way you collide as you throw yourself at him. His bag hitting the floor with a thud as he drops it to hold you properly for the first time in three months.

I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you.I’ve missed you. your heart taps out against your ribcage.

I’m here.I’m home.I’m yours. you feel his beat in reply.

He has you so tightly pressed against his chest, holding you so close within the safe cocoon of his sturdy arms. Your face is buried in the side of his neck, breathing him in. He doesn’t smell like the sandalwood scent you’re used to, but rather some sharp astringent smell from whatever taxpayer funded soap they provided on the carrier. But underneath that, there’s something that’s just so Bradley.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says almost incredulously into your hair, his arms tightening around your waist. “I thought about you all the time. I missed you so much.”

Still in too much shock to speak, still too overwhelmed by him, you just rapidly nod your head in agreement and burrow yourself closer into his warmth. Your fingers combing through the fine hairs at the base of his head in that soothing way that you know makes him sigh. Smiling to yourself when you get the reaction you were hoping for, when his exhale ghosts down the side of your face as you hold each other.

Your perfect Bradley. Your Golden Boy.

You’ve thought about your reunion with him so many times over the last few months.

Visions of you picking him up, waiting for him by the Bronco wearing that sundress that drives him wild. Of him surprising you at work after some meeting that could have been an email, standing head and shoulders above the gray drab cubicle walls of your office. Of him lingering outside the door of your apartment with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, just like he had after that comically bad third date, but this time without the bug bites littering his thick forearms.

And even though your hair is probably a mess and you’re in an oversize threadbare shirt and wearing slippers that had seen better days, this is better than anything you’d imagined. Because this wasn’t some delicate daydream spun together in your mind to keep ache of missing him at bay.

In the early hours of the morning, it’s not a lyrical vibrato and swell of strings that serves as the soundtrack to his homecoming like it would be in the movies. It’s the percussion of the drip from the kitchen faucet, the low hum and rattle of his refrigerator, the melody of your mingled breathing. These were the sounds of the score to your reunion with Bradley, a domestic symphony.

The quiet, steady ticking of the clock mounted on his wall is the only acknowledgement of time passing as the two of you stay wrapped up in each other. The only indication that this moment isn’t suspended in time like the way it feels it is. A sign that while the sky is still inky and dark outside his living room window, that soon enough the birds will be chirping and the sun will be rising. And for the first time in a long time you will not be waking up in a bed alone.

Because he is here, he is here.

“Your heart is still beating so fast,” Rooster whispers lowly. His thumb is skimming the side of your throat as he cradles the back of your head with his big, warm hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

You place a gentle kiss to longest scar that decorates the skin of his throat before pulling away to get a good look at him. He’s wearing the softest smile for you as you take his face between your hands. His hair looks a shade darker than his usual sunkissed bronze and his skin a bit paler than it was before he’d left. And your heart squeezes in sympathy as you note the deep, dark purple circles beneath his eyes and the weariness he carries around the edges of him.

The little lamp with its soft glow was the only source of light in the room, but his exhaustion clear as day.

You could feel the worry creeping up on you, making your eyebrows pull together with unease, “Is everyone-”

“Everyone’s fine, baby,” he hushes you reassuringly. His family in San Diego had become yours as well. You care about them all. “Everyone’s home. Safe and sound.” The relief you feel drifts over you like a gentle breeze.

“I’m so happy to see you,” you say as you pull his face to yours. “I missed you too, Bradley. So much.”

His lips are a little dry, a little chapped, but the way he kisses you still takes your breath away.

You can taste the burnt coffee he must have had after landing, the perpetually scalded kind from base that’s terrible regardless of who makes it. He’s told you about how he always waits to cool just enough so he can throw it back in one go, not wanting to draw it out. You’ve never had it yourself, but you don’t mind the bitterness when it’s off his tongue.

There is nothing hurried or desperate about the way you reconnect with one another, nothing like how you imagined it might be after being apart for so long. Not the hungry mouths or frenzied touches you’d thought about late at night while looking at the pictures and videos on your phone that he had so generously left for you, with only your own hands and imagination to keep you company.

It’s easy to lose yourself in him, making up for lost time and lost kisses. Normally his attentions set your pulse racing, but the longer he kisses you the steadier the beating in your chest becomes as he pulls soft sighs from you. He kisses you slow and deep, like he is savoring the slide of your lips against his. His hands smoothing up and down your back and along your waist, as if he is luxuriating in the feel of your body under his warm palms.

“Bradley,” you breathe contentedly.

“I’m here,” he says.

The simple statement has your mouth breaking out in a wide grin, you can feel the matching one he’s wearing against your lips as he pulls away.

“You’re back.”

“I know,” he says teasingly, running his finger down the bridge of your nose.

You huff a laugh, “No, you’re back early.”

“Mhm,” he hums happily, “And you were playing something really pretty on my piano.” He drops a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips again. “And here I thought”- a kiss on your right cheek- “you said you couldn’t”- a kiss on the left one- “play anymore,” he murmurs as he kisses your forehead. The coarse hair of his mustache feeling rougher than you remember against your skin after so many days without it. “You’ve been holding out on me, sweetheart.”

Your hands slides down from around his neck to rest on his chest. “I’ve been taking lessons,” you tell him. Feeling a bit shy now as you glance up at him from beneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah?” He pulls his head back to look at you, there’s surprise there in his eyes but also pride, “For how long? When did you start?”

If Bradley hadn’t been gazing at you with such genuine affection in those brown eyes of his, you might have been much more nervous to admit just how long you’ve been keeping this secret from him. Even so, you still feel like you’re holding your breath as you reply, “Since you got back from that first deployment.”

You can tell he’s trying to school his features, but his eyebrow still jumps up a bit as he does the math. And as he blinks at you, you can’t help but feel like for all your good intentions that you’ve let him down.

Six months was a long time to keep something like that to yourself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him, it had been on the tip of your tongue on more than one occasion. He was the only person you’d been wanting to tell, but waiting for the right time had turned into a three-month deployment.

There’s already an apology about to work its way out of your mouth when he cups your cheeks in his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have been practicing here the whole time. That piano is basically fifty percent yours anyways, since you were the one who found it.”

“I just- It needed to be mine, just for a little bit,” you say quietly, hoping he understands. Your fingertip anxiously traces around the edges of the patch that rests over his heart. “And I wanted to surprise you. But, then…” You nod your head to the green seabag forgotten on the floor.

The kiss he presses to your lips makes your knees weak with its softness. With its acceptance. With its understanding. 

“Well, consider me surprised. You play so lovely,” he says with a gentle smile to put you at ease. And you feel instantly lighter, the pressure that had been building in your chest now just a memory. “I swear, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in months. What were you using to practice with before? The piano at the Hard Deck?”

That he was so invested in this because it was something that mattered to you soothed that tender part of your heart.

His enthusiasm made you want to tell him more, to tell him everything, “I bought an electric keyboard for my place.”

“Wait, really? Where?” he asks, looking adorably confused. You can see him trying to search his memory, as if he’d somehow missed a big rectangular black and white thing pressed against a wall in your tiny apartment. “I swear I’ve never seen one there. That’s something I definitely would have noticed.”

“I would hide it under my bed whenever you were coming over.” Saying it out loud makes you feel a bit sheepish about the lengths you took to keep it a secret until you were ready.

“Under the bed, she says,” Rooster repeats with a shake of his head, clearly amused.

“Well, we’re usually busy on top of it, so it seemed like a good place to keep it hidden,” you say with a little shrug, biting back the smile at the memory of the one time he’d shown up unannounced catching you off guard. And how flustered you been trying to shove it under your mattress as he recovered from the blowjob you’d given him on the couch as an attempt to keep him from going into your bedroom before you could put it away, but also because he really had such a nice cock.

He throws his head back to laugh, the deep sound of it fills the living room. Hearing it for the first time since he’s been away makes your smile grow wider until your cheeks hurt. You love that sound. You love being the one to make him laugh.

But something still tugs at you, something you need to know, something you need to hear.

“Bradley- You’re not…” you trail off.

Mad. Disappointed. Or worse, hurt.

“No. No, I’m not,” he says earnestly, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone softly. “I mean, yeah, I wish I’d known sooner. But only because I would have loved to be the one turning the pages for you and supporting you. I know what this means to you.” He pauses for a moment, that thumb still caressing the curve of your face, “But will you do me a favor?”

ofcourseofcourseofcourse

“Anything.”

That soft smile of his gets bigger and brighter, “Will you play a song for me, sweetheart?”

Some winged thing inside of you takes flight at the sweet sincerity laced between the syllables and the consonants his question.

He’s asked you to play for him so many times. And it had always hurt to deny him what should have been such an easy yes to such a simple request.

But now it didn’t have to be some lonesome dream. Because you’re there and he’s here and it’s all you’ve been wanting.

“Yes, Bradley,” you beam, “I can play something for you.”

You take his hand and pull him further inside the house from where you had been standing in the open doorway. He kicks his duffle bag out of the way, so that he can close the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

It’s just you and him. Together.

In the comfort of his cozy living room, the light from the lamp on top of his piano wrapping you both up in its warm, golden glow.

His piano is no longer daunting the way it used to be. Instead, it welcomes you as you approach it with him in tow. Familiar and friendly.

He lets go of your hand and crouches down next to you. When he stands back up, he shows you the pencil in his hand that he’d picked up for you before tucking it behind your ear, back to where it had been earlier. And you’re dying to know just how long he had been standing in that doorway listening with you completely oblivious to his presence.

You watch with your heart in your throat as he straightens out the previously askewed bench and motions for you to take a seat, dropping a kiss to your cheek.

The creak of the bench not cold and mocking as you sit down, but rather a cheery acknowledgement of your return and of the hours you’ve spent there sitting and practicing together.

You close the open booklet in front of you, to clear up space on the shelf to swap it out for the other sheet music to the song you were planning to play for him, the one you had wanted to welcome him back with. Just as you’re reaching for it, Rooster stops you with a gentle touch to your wrist.

“Wait.” He’s looking down at you with his head tilted and a slight pinch of confusion between his eyebrows, “Why are you putting that one away?”

The song you’d been playing when he’d arrived wasn’t as rehearsed as the other one you’d been reaching for. It wasn’t something you’d ever meant for anyone else to hear, that is other than your piano instructor as she helped to guide you through the tricky parts.

“Oh, um, that one’s not ready,” you falter over the words just a bit as you try to hedge the question. “I have a different piece I wanted to play for you.”

You hold up the sheet music to him and his eyes soften when he sees the title of the song you purchased and practiced with only him in mind. It was polished, it was ready.

You’d had three months to get it ready for him, and you’d made sure to play it through at least once a day. You had wanted it to be perfect, he’d waited so long. He deserved the best and you wanted to be the one to give it to him.

He holds your gaze for a few moments. There’s a questioning look in his eyes, but he must find whatever answer he was looking for written on your face. Because instead of asking you the question seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, he just clears his throat with a little shake of his head.

“You learned this just for me?” he asks, his voice thick and raspy.

And when you bob your head yes, there’s a brief moment where it almost looks like he is struggling with himself. His eyes bouncing from you to the sheet music in his hands to the piano.

“I can’t wait to hear this. Truly, sweetheart. It’s just- the other one is the first thing I’ve ever heard you play...”

It’s not even a real question, but there’s a gentle request ripping in the wake of the way he trails off. There’s no pressure behind the ask that’s not an ask.

But still, there are butterflies fluttering around in your stomach now.

“Ok, Bradley. If that’s what you want to hear, then I’ll play that one for you.” You would do anything this man asked of you, you would do anything for him.

“Yeah?” The grin on his face could power the whole city when you nod your agreement.  

He takes a few long strides around you as you work on reopening and flattening out the sheet music to the song he asked you to play for him. Out of the corner of your eye you see him grab and turn the wooden spindle framed arm chair, bringing it closer and situating it in just the right spot next to the piano.

“Look,” he says gesturing to it, pleased with himself as he settles into the chair, “A front row seat.” He is close enough that his knees are hugging either side of the piano bench.

The genuine excitement in his voice makes your heart stutter and skip a beat.

That the anticipation of fingers on keys and hammers striking strings is better to him than any jackpot or trophy could ever be. He makes you feel like this moment is his lucky lottery ticket. That this is his winning championship game.

You.

You seated at his piano bench with sheet music stretched across it and hands that can make music again.

And you would learn all every song ever composed just as long as he keeps looking at you like the way he is now, eyes bright and with a boyish grin on his face.

“Will you turn the pages for me?” you ask him, even though you already know what is answer will be.

“I would be happy to,” he says with satisfaction. And you know he means it.

You’re nervous now seated on the bench with a different song waiting to be played with the black and white keys under your fingers. As you feeling the warmth of Bradley’s presence next to you and the intensity of his gaze on you.

And with shaky fingers, you begin.

All Bradley had craved when he was on that carrier was for some silence.

Just for a moment where he could hear the sound of his own breathing, where his thoughts weren’t overwhelmed by all the other commotion.

And the closer he got to his house, seated in the back seat of the white Prius that had picked him up from base, the more he wished he was headed somewhere else. To someone else.

It had been three months of endless noise.

Three months of the relentless humming and buzzing and rattling and shaking of the USS Theodore Roosevelt. Of planes taking off for night hops and the explosions of jet fuel and machines banging on deck and the clang of metal on metal.

Three months of endless voices. In his ear from over the radio. Bouncing off the walls of the dull gray passageways. Layered and loud on top of the clatter of forks and spoons on plates and bowls in the mess hall.

Three months of sharing a room with Payback, who was considerate and tidy, but snored louder than anyone he’s ever bunked with. In such tight quarters it was hard to get a moment to himself, let alone a sliver of some peace and quiet.

With over a decade of service under his belt, Rooster would have thought it was something he’d get used to. And while it got more bearable over time, it never seems to get any better.

Sleep ‘til you’re hungry. Eat ‘til you’re tired.

That was the motto most of them lived by when they were aboard the ship.

His schedule shifting depending on the day, at the will of whatever commanding officer was in charge. Lunch became breakfast, the leftovers from previous dinner service that they ate during Midrats gave him just enough energy to make it to dawn. He often had stretches where he’d go days without seeing the sun, it was just another reminder that his time didn’t belong to him. There were moments when it felt like he wasn’t even his own person, but he’d known what he was signing up for when he inked his name on those papers.

Those first few weeks on a carrier were always the worst, when sleep would escape him just when he needed it the most.

He was either doing the midnight hops or being woken up by them. Trying to sneak in naps whenever he had more than twenty minutes of free time. More often than not he’d be right on the precipice of falling asleep when his alarm would go off and he’d have to rush off to the Ready Room for tactics trainings or the flight deck for practicing inflight refueling and aerial combat maneuvers.

Bradley loved flying.

He loved that moment when he climbs in the cockpit of his F/A-18 and everything just clicks into place. When the edges of the world around him sharpen, when the contrast is increased and the clarity heightened. That feeling of surety that washes over him every time from knowing that his actions matter, that what he does matters, that he mattered.

It was the way he could honor the man who made him and to solidify his bond with the one who raised him.

He understands his place in the world the best when he is thirty thousand feet in the air.

In the past, it had been easy to put his head down and get through his deployments because his career gave him purpose. His temporary discomforts and the high-stakes risks he took were worth it for the sake of the greater good.

But things were different for him now because he had you. You were always on his mind.

The two of you have been together for a little less than a year, but it feels like he’s known you forever. You make him feel seen and understood in a way that he’s never experienced before.

Bradley knew how lucky he was to have you, he’d almost blown it one too many times for his comfort in the early days of your relationship. His anxiety nearly derailing one of the best things that’s ever happened to him.

But luckily for him, you wanted him.

Even with all his flaws and scars and baggage.

And for you, he wanted to be a man worth waiting for.

That first deployment was harder than he could have ever anticipated. Not only because he’d never had anyone to miss before, but also because he’d never had to carry the weight that came from knowing someone else was missing him just as much in return.

The way he felt as he held you and danced with you in his living room, with that record you’d found spinning in the background, was a moment he wasn’t ever going to forget. It had felt just as special then as it does now. It’s the memory he replays in his mind over and over again on the nights he can’t sleep.

He’d ordered the sheet music to “Make Love to Me” during those final few hours he had left with you the night before he was due to leave. The screen brightness on his phone turned down all the way so that he didn’t wake you up as you slept soundly, soft and naked, next to him in his bed.

The anticipation getting home to you and learning it for you was the only thing that helped to get him through those six weeks when he felt like the walls were closing in on him from the way he missed and wanted you. 

And once he was back, in between the hours he spent at work and the hours he spent tangled in bed with you, he’d go to the Hard Deck before it opened to use Penny’s old upright to practice. Thinking about how nice it would be to have one that he had a place to call his own. Then flipping off Hangman every chance he got when he’d groan about having to hear the song again.

Rooster had been able to bribe his team with the promise of free beer for a month in exchange for their participation when the song was finally ready for you. He’d known that their over the top antics would make you laugh. And the smile on your face when he’d serenaded you with it for the first time had been worth every penny of the hefty credit card bill he’d received the next month.

It was just as hard this time.

It had taken him a while to realize what exactly that feeling was that had settled heavy on his chest.

Homesick.

He’d never known he could be homesick for a person until he met you.

Time seemed to move faster when the two of you were together. And when he was away from you, the hours and days felt long.

It was harder to let the little things roll off his back because he couldn’t look forward to seeing your smile after a long day when he was thousands of miles away. He couldn’t decompress the way he was used to, the burn he worked up at the weight bench in the gym wasn’t nearly as effective as sitting at the bench in front of his piano. Even if his biceps were reaping the benefits.  

On more than one occasion, he’d caught himself absentmindedly tapping out unheard tunes on the sides of his thighs.

Bradley hadn’t realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders until he’d felt it release at the sound of your laugh on one of the rare instances he’d been able to call you over the satellite phone on board.

“Have you been wearing the sunscreen I sent with you, Golden Boy?” you’d asked him.

“I promised you I would, didn’t I?” he’d replied, even as he rubbed at his sternum in discomfort at the not quite lie. When the reality was he didn’t need it when he was on such good terms with the moon. But he didn’t tell you that, didn’t want you to worry about him more than he already knew you were.

“That’s good. Because Lobster Boy just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” He could hear the smile in your tone, could feel it as it traveled over the electrical currents.

All the sounds and noise that seemed to follow him around, all the thoughts that circled and spiraled in his head, they faded when he got to listen to your sweet voice. As you told him how much you missed him and how proud you were of him and how much you loved him. Everything he’d never had before. The one thing he’d never let himself hope for.

Someone who cared. Someone who loved him. Someone who was waiting for him.

It was the first time in weeks that things had felt quieter. That he could finally breathe a little easier.

Until they’d told Bradley and his team that the mission they had spent the better part of two and a half months preparing for was getting moved up. And then the sound of the pounding of his heart was drown out by the ringing in his ears.

And on the night, during those pivotal moments where the minutes stretched on like hours, they’d flown it as damn near perfect as could be.

The feeling of sweat dripping down his back as his team had made their way back to the carrier an uncomfortable, but welcomed, reminder that he’d made it. That they’d all made it. That he would be headed back to you soon.

They did the fly-off two days before the carrier was due to dock back at base. Unlike usual, there wasn’t a fanfare of family and friends ready to greet them at the hanger. Normally, their return was a big event. Their formations immaculate as ever as they showed off for all of the important people in their lives before landing.

With all his other deployments, it was the moment that Bradley did is best to avoid thinking about, as he tried and failed to ignore the dread that would settle deep in the pit of his stomach.

Knowing that he’d have to watch as members of his squadron were met with a cheerful homecoming of handmade signs and smiles and laughter and hugs. Watching their tearful and happy reunions, watching as some of his teammates met the newest members of their families for the very first time. All while he’d gather his things and shake the occasional hand, only leave alone.

With this one, it was something he’d been looking forward to for the first time in his career. The idea of you being there to greet him, that big beautiful smile on your face just for him. Of getting to hold you in his arms for the first time in months in the bright golden California sunshine.

But he didn’t mind missing out since it meant he could be home early. He’d trade all the hoopla and hubbub for any extra minute he could have with you.

After all, there was always next time.

Because there would be a next time.

They’d gotten in sometime after midnight, the flashing lights on the runway guiding them in. The diet of stale coffee and adrenaline that he’d been living off of for the last few days finally catching up with him as he worked his way through the final check list of things needing to be done. The brief wrap-up that Cyclone wanted to have ended up going longer than originally planned.

And the longer he had sat there, the more the bone-deep weariness had set in.

His boots felt heavy on his feet as they’d all shuffled out the door to collect the rest of their belongings to head out. Everyone eager to get back to their own homes, back to their own beds. And for the lucky ones, back to the people in those homes and in those beds, who would be excited to see them.

Reuben had offered to give him a ride. He’d snuck a call to his wife the moment they’d gotten service to let her know he was coming home, and she had been there in the parking lot waiting for him. But Payback’s classy condo was on the other side of town from his own Craftsman bungalow, and Rooster wasn’t going to have his now former roommate drive out of his way when he had an app on his phone that could drop him off without inconveniencing anyone else.

So he’d bluffed and said that you were on you way, and then lingered in the break room with another cup of terrible coffee for an additional twenty minutes until everyone cleared out before ordering his ride.

He had been so close to putting in your address for the drop off when he’d booked the Lyft. He really wanted to see you, he’d missed you so much over the last three months. But had decided against it at the last minute, when he realized just how late it was. Thinking that maybe he could surprise you at work and take you out for lunch after some much-needed sleep, when he wasn’t so dead on his feet.

He wanted to be at his best for you.

But the longer he sits in the back of the white Prius, with his knees crushed against the back of the seat in front of him, sipping on the little eight-ounce water bottle the man had blindly tossed in his direction when he’d climbed in, the more he was realizing just how big of a mistake it was to give the driver his own address instead of yours.

The roads were mostly empty, only a few cars here and there.

It was sometime when night met astronomical twilight. The sun hovering somewhere between twelve to eighteen degrees from the horizon. Some stars visible in the night sky even with all the light pollution from the city.

Too late for the people from the bars to still be out and too early for the stirrings of the early commuters who had a long journey into work ahead of them.

Bradley had spent months wishing for the quiet. And he finally had it.

It was silent in the car.

His driver has his AirPods in- which he knows is illegal in California, but he wasn’t going to press it when the roads were this deserted- and the man hadn’t bothered to turn the radio on, so he was left on his own with his worn and well-used duffle bag, an empty water bottle that looked comically small in his hand, and his thoughts.

That quiet he had been so eager for wasn’t the peaceful kind he had hoped for. It is a lonely kind of quiet. It was one that pointedly reminded him that no one would be waiting for him at the end of his destination, when he finally reached that dot at the end of the purple road on his app.

The white static in his ears gets louder with every passing mile. As he watches the minutes tick down until the end of his ride. Where he would get out, and the driver would move on with his night, and he would still be on his own.

He was so tired of coming back from deployments to an empty space. Just like it had been at the barracks. Just like it had been at the minimally furnished apartments he’d rented before he’d been relocated.

This felt too close to those hollow, lonely homecomings of his past.

And while he liked his house, with its wooden shingles and original windows and warm charm, it was just building with four walls and a roof. The rooms held his things, but they didn’t hold anyone.

His dark, empty, quiet house.

It wasn’t a home if he was there alone.

He’d be so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he’d missed the fact that the driver had turned up his street. He’d missed the tree lined suburban blocks leading up to his small Craftsman, until the car slowed down and came to a stop in front of it.

Bradley can feel the guy’s eyes on him in the rearview mirror as he waits for him to grab his things and get out. That homesick feeling in his chest that he’d carried with him for the last ninety days, now back in tenfold. The weight of it keeps him sitting where he is.

He is so much closer to where he wanted to be when he was out in the middle of the ocean, but still too far from who he needed to be with.

As he is opening his mouth to give the driver the address to your apartment, his eyes catch on a light that’s been left on in his house.

That gentle, warm glow of the small lamp above his piano illuminating his living room against the shadows. The curtains still pushed to either side, so he can see in from the outside. Where he can see his piano and a figure curved over it.

And then he’s out of the car and standing on the cracked sidewalk with his bag in hand and taillights rounding a corner before he can fully even process it.

He almost doesn’t want to believe his eyes, the dried out and tired things that they are. Not trusting that in his sleep deprived state that they aren’t playing tricks on him, conjuring the one person he wanted to see the most.

It’s not until he hears the faint sound of his piano calling for him to come closer that it hits him in the chest with as much force as it does when he’s pulling G’s.

That his favorite daydream was now his reality.

His pretty girlfriend, the one who said she couldn’t play, was the one who was sitting at his piano making the music that was welcoming him home.

But as his feet carried him up the walkway, up the stairs, and across his porch to the front door, the music had only gotten louder and clearer. Fishing out the key from his pocket, he slips it into the lock as quietly as possible, opening the door ever… so… slowly… and with more patience than he knew he had in him.

He is too captivated by the curve and shape of you sitting there to try and figure out what that familiar tune is that you’re playing. There’s a cup of tea resting on top of the piano, sitting on one of the coasters you’d got for him when you realized he didn’t have any. You look so soft and perfect wearing a t-shirt of his that he thought he’d lost, a pencil adorably tucked behind your ear.

The picture in front of him is easily the best thing he has seen in months.

Bradley loves that piano. You were the one to find it for him.

It’s his favorite thing that he owns, because when he looks at his piano he thinks of you and the fact you were thinking of him.

It was always something he’d meant to find the time to research, to look into. He knew he wanted one, but he’d never taken the initiative to actually shop around for one.

It had been a dream of his for years, but he’d never had the opportunity to even consider it until after the Uranium Mission when they’d all been permanently relocated to San Diego. And even after he’d bought his house, it was something that sat in the corner of his mind rather than in the corner of his living room.

Instead of putting roots down, he felt like he was waiting for the rug to get pulled out from underneath him. Yet again.

Until one night at the Hard Deck, after he’d played a few of the crowd-pleasing tunes he kept in his back pocket, you’d passed him your phone to show him something. It had been picture of a gorgeous mahogany console piano, just the right size for where he’d been imagining one would go in his house.

“You’ve been telling me you want one of your own for ages, so I set up a few alerts just see what was out there,” you’d told him a bit shyly, almost like you weren’t sure if you were overstepping. “That one just came up, it looks like it’s in really great shape. And that price is better than what I’ve been seeing from some of the other ones I’ve looked at. So I sent the seller an email- just in case- and they replied. They’re not too far away, you’d just need to move it yourself. But you’ve got first dibs on it if you want it.”

 His eyes had bounced back and forth between pictures and your beautiful face, “You did that for me?”

“It seemed like something that would make you happy,” you’d replied simply.

He can still remember the way his heart had pressed against the ribs in his chest.

“This is- It’s perfect. Thank you for finding this. Will you ask them if they want a deposit?” he’d asked, watching as that tentative, hopeful smile on your face grew bigger and brighter.  “I don’t want to lose it. This is the one for me.”

He’d been sure of it. He was still sure of it.

A couple hours later and standing in front of Penny’s jukebox, he had still been buzzing from the find. The seller had taken down the listing, the deposit had been sent, the pick-up time was set, and he’d even managed to rope Jake into helping him move it in exchange for a bottle of whiskey. And you, you were the reason for it all.

He didn’t mean to play the song, didn’t even remember selecting it.

One minute he was looking through the catalogue of songs and the next you were in his arms as he twirled and spun you around on the scuffed wooden floors of the Hard Deck. He knew you weren’t the most confident of dancers, but loved that you trusted him to lead you in a slow easy rhythm.

Enjoying the feel of you in his arms, his lips pressed against your ear as he whispered anything and everything that came to his mind, the words all honey-dipped, as the song played on in the background.

“My girl likes sweet nothings?” he had murmured teasingly at the way he’d felt another shiver dance its way down your spine.

“They’re not nothings, Bradley. They’re sweet somethings,” you’d murmured back, settling your head on his shoulder. “It’s never nothing with you.”

He took your hand and placed it on his heart and he leaned back in. Whispering more sweet somethings into the shell of your ear. He didn’t stop until the song ended, but he could have gone on for hours.

Later that night, Mav had slid up to him at the bar as he was cashing out for the night. He was having a hard time focusing on the conversation the older man was trying to have with him because his eyes kept searching out you from across the room.

And you kept catching him looking.

“You going to marry that girl?” Mav had asked him with a knowing look in his eyes.

He knew the meaning of the song Bradley had selected better than anyone else. Pete been there the night his parents had gotten married, watching on from the sidelines as they’d had their first dance to the crooning voice of Sam Cooke.

“I sure hope so,” he’d answered.

He’d been feeling it for a while, but that was the night he knew.

Now he feds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays that song on purpose at least once a week.

For how tired he had been in the back of the Lyft, he feels like he could stand here and watch you for hours.

You’re humming to yourself as you play. Shaking your head when your finger hits a wrong key, slowing down to repeat it, before continuing on. Nodding along when you get through a portion, like you must have practiced that part in particular and were proud of yourself to get it right.

It’s the best thing he’s ever heard. Even when your fingers slip up and play a string of wrong notes.

“Fuck me, F Sharp not F,” you huff.

And he has to bite his lip to keep from chuckling and giving himself away.

Stopping this time to pull the pencil from out behind your ear, you bend forward making some circles on the sheet music in front of you for the spot that had tripped you up. Grumbling some other expletives lowly under your breath as you work.

His studious sweetheart.

Bradley is hit was with a tidal wave of affection so fierce that he knows he can’t stay quiet anymore.

You’ve made your marks and are setting your hands back on the keys about to start over again when he decides to ask you a question in-person for the first time in three months, “Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

“Bradley!”

He loves the way you say his name. He loves the sound of your voice. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

It’s almost an out of body experience to have you in his arms.

To kiss you. To taste the hint of chamomile on your tongue. To feel your heart beating against his chest. To tease you. To touch the soft skin of your face with his fingertips. To talk to you. To listen to you as you tell him about when you started taking lessons.

Because he still can’t believe you’re here, it still feels too good to be true.

He doesn’t feel the gravity settle back into his bones until you say you’ll play him a song.

Feeling oddly anxious when he notices you closing the booklet that was in front of you, in favor of putting it way and reaching for something else. But then you smile up at him as you show him the sheet music for song you told him you’ve been practicing.

There’s a look in your eyes that tells him you know exactly why he feeds Penny’s jukebox his quarters and plays “You Send Me” when he wants to dance with you. He knows in his gut that Mav must have told you, probably an intentionally unintentional slip of the tongue.

And god, he really fights the urge to ask. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or for you to think he’s taking this moment for granted or that he’s ungrateful for the work you’ve put into learning that song just for him.

A song that meant something to him.

But he is so desperate to hear you play the other one, the one that welcomed him home, the one that’s the first song he’s ever heard you play. It’s already so special to him in a way that he can’t put words too.

When you agree, Bradley’s chest swells with warmth and he can’t hold back his excitement. He pulls up a chair next to you as close as he can get without getting in your way.

And he swears he falls in love with you all over again when you ask him to turn the pages for you.

He hasn’t proposed yet, but if he is lucky enough to look in your eyes as he vows to spend forever with you, he knows he is going promise to turn your pages for the rest of your lives together. That is, if you’ll have him when the time comes.

His eyes catch the way you squeeze and flex your hand, the faintest hint of trembling in your fingers before you set them on the ivory key. The only thing giving away your nerves. Then after a deep breath, you’re playing for him.

And he gets to hear your song, from the beginning, for the very first time.

It starts of soft and melodic, almost like a lullaby. The timbre of the lower notes would sound almost melancholy if it weren’t for the uplifting lyrical, melody of the treble clef. The juxtaposition makes his heart ache and soar at the same time. He knows this song, even if he’s still having a hard time placing it, the title just out of reach.

When you had first told him that you’d forgotten how to play, he’d felt so guilty for all the times he’d tried to get you to play something for him. Kicking himself when he offered to help, not knowing even if you wanted to play anymore. He didn’t want to ever be the one causing you pain.

He knows better than anyone the bittersweet and complicated relationship that you have with the instrument. So the meaning of this gesture isn’t lost on him in the slightest.

He can feel every ounce of love and effort that has gone into this. And all because you wanted to wanted to share this part of yourself with him? Because you loved him?

Bradley wants to absorb every detail of this moment, wants to carry it with him always. The sound of the rich and round notes from the keys your fingers are gliding over. Your sweet face as you read the sheet music in front of you.

He only glances away every now and then to keep track on where you were in the song, so that he can fulfill his duties and turn the page when you’re ready.

You surprise him when you start singing along quietly. And he can’t help but lean in.

He’s always liked the sound of your pretty voice. He loves when he’s able to catch you singing in the shower, when he’ll linger in the doorway and listen. You’ll sing along with him in the car when the winds are whipping from the highway or when you’re tipsy. But it’s rare that he gets to hear you so sing so freely.

It’s not until he hears the words that it clicks for him, that he finally recognizes the song. It’s one he’s heard hundreds of times before, but never like this. There’s a sense of sincerity in it that feels new to him, but that seems entirely perfect for the piece. It’s like he’s hearing the song and understanding the depth of the lyrics for the very first time.

And the more you play, the more overwhelmed he’s getting. The lump in his throat growing in size with every passing measure. The pressure building behind his eyes isn’t from the lack of sleep, but something else entirely. The words you’re singing to him landing and making a place at home in his heart.

You’re approaching the chorus again. He knows where the song is building to. And he wants to meet you where you’re at, wants to show you he hears you. The one thing he’s always liked about the original is that it’s a duet. It’s a conversation.

Rooster realizes now that it was never the quiet he had wanted. It wasn’t the lonely sound of silence. All he wanted and all he needed was you.

Licking his lips, he waits for the right moment and then joins in with a low whistle.

Your head whips towards him and the brilliant smile on your face looks and feels like home.

This.

This is what you had wanted.

His harmonizing whistle was something you didn’t know you’d been hoping for until he joined in.

A part of him, a part of you. Something to be shared.

As you’d gotten yourself situated, smoothing out those pages in front of you, you’d felt your nerves trying to get the best of you.

Thinking about Bradley’s pretty brown eyes on you as you played versus actually having his steady gaze pinned on you were two very different things.

You’ve always had a hard time being the center of attention.

At your birthday, he had so flawlessly distracted everyone from that moment you always dreaded so much, sparing you from having everyone sing and watch on as the candles on the cake were blown out. Because he knew you and cared enough to want you to have the best time. It was the first birthday you’ve had where you were entirely out of your head for the whole evening.

However, he did play it for you himself on the piano much later that night when it was just the two of you, as you ate leftover cake wrapped up in his sheet.

And even those times when he’s serenaded you during crowded nights out at the Hard Deck, it was fine because while his eyes were on you, everyone else was busy looking at him.

But in his small living room, there wasn’t anything to distract him with or for you to hide behind.

The rapid sixteenth notes had been turned into more manageable eight notes with the help of piano teacher. Her tidy markings simplifying and streamlining the music to make it easier for you to learn. Done in pencil, she’d pointed out to you when she returned the sheet music back to you the next week after you’d given it to her, so that you could easily erase it when you were ready to tackle the more difficult portions.

Even so, there had been a brief moment where all the notes seemed to bleed into each other on the page.

It was as if the words of a book had been scrambled and rearranged just as you were getting to the best part. Just as you were about to find out who did it, just as they were about to kiss, just as the heist was about to be pulled off.

Your shaky fingers landing on the edges of a couple of the keys rather than in the middle of one.

But Bradley didn’t care that you’d fumbled over the opening. From the corner of your eye, you’d been able to see the way he was looking at you. It was like you’d hung the moon and the stars just for him.

He wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, because his feelings were always worn so openly on his face.

All those butterflies that had been swarming in your stomach took their flight, and a gentle warm wave of contentment filled you up instead.

You didn’t need the perfect notes when this was the perfect moment. It felt real, it felt right.

The urge had snuck up on you without warning. You hadn’t meant to start singing along, but once the first few words had come out of your mouth you were committed.

And then he’d leaned in.

He was already so close, you could just barely feel his knee brushing against the outside of your thigh from the way his legs were bracketing the piano bench. But there he was trying to get closer still.

Only you would know how many hours you’d spent behind your little electric keyboard and in Mrs. McMullen’s cozy music room and at Bradley’s house seated on his creaky piano bench.

Only you would know after he’d left, you’d driven right back to his house, the smell of his fancy coffee and sandalwood scent still lingering in the air. That you had pulled out the music to “Make Love to Me”, thinking that trying to play it for yourself on his piano would make you feel better, only to end up missing him more than ever when he hadn’t even been gone for an hour yet.

Only you would know many times you’ve tried, and made mistakes, only to try again.  Once more, once again.

But in that moment, you didn’t want him to hear all the hours of lessons or all the hours of practice.

You wanted him to hear your heart.

And when he turned the page of your music for you, you couldn’t help but smile.

You wanted this song to speak to him like it had spoke to you the first time you’d heard it. The way it still speaks to you. How it made you think of him, every time you played it and every time you heard it.

You hoped he could feel it through the keys beneath your fingers and the pedal under your foot.

When Bradley joins in, quietly at first before getting a little louder after you grin at him, you know it’s his way of telling you that he does.

And it is everything.

He follows the lead of your fingers as they glide over the keys. The ebb and flow of his whistle, coming in and tapering out. Your melody strong on its own, but made better with his counterpoint.

For him, you were up for it all. Those quiet periods were just beats of rest that dotted the staff of your life with him. There were so many more notes in his song to look forward to.

Because he was worth the wait.

Those combinations and arrangements of notes that had once been fed your yearning were now fueled by your joy.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, it dawns on you that this was the first time that you weren’t playing the piano not to mask the loud or to cover the quiet. You weren’t playing because with a self-imposed pressure to make something perfect. You weren’t playing as a way to try and ease the longing that had taken up residency in your chest ever since you’d dropped him off at base nearly one hundred days ago.

You were playing because he made you happy and it made you happy to finally be able to off this little piece of your heart to him. He knew you in every other sense, but all you had wanted was for him to know you in this way too. 

You were playing because it made you happy.

The rhythm of your left hand sure and steady like a heartbeat, while those soaring winged notes of your right sounded like the way you felt when he was near. When he was here with you, when he was home with you.

It feels like time isn’t being marked by the ticking second hand of a clock, but rather by the passing of beats housed within measures. Dictated by tempo of your own choosing.

You let yourself float in the moment, in the music. Of the feeling of the keys under your hands, of reading the notes on the page. No longer a random series of dots scattered along five lines on a page. Their language unlocked to you once again. Of the pride you can feel radiating off the man who loves you as you are. The one who made you want to try. The one who helped you find this part of yourself again.

Those two parallel lines that mark the end of the song inch closer as he turns the final page for you. And you find yourself playing just a bit slower. Trying to draw out every note and chord, soaking up the way they filled every nook and corner of his living room with their sound.

It’s inevitable when you come up on those few closing measures. All good things come to an end, but it doesn’t mean there won’t be more good things to come. You can have this whenever you want. You have all you need.

You and Bradley and a piano.

Your fingers hold down the keys of those final notes, pulling out every last bit of sound that can be let from them. The sound waves bending and spreading, their energy passing through his home until they can’t be heard any more.

Holding on. Holding it. Before finally, letting go.

And when you turn to Bradley, his arms are already open and waiting for you.

His piano bench announces its displeasure you’ve stopped playing for the moment when it groans and creaks as you get up in favor of tucking yourself into the comfort of his lap.

He wastes no time pulling you into him and wrapping you up. Encouraging you to nestle your head into his shoulder. Pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek on the top of your head. His hand slipping under the hem of your t-shirt to run soothingly up and down your spine as you breathe him in.

You’re feeling exposed to him in a way you’ve never felt before. It was your turn to put all your cards on the table. But you know you’re safe with him, your heart is safe with him. Just as his is with you.

Neither of you say anything as the weight of the moment relaxes into something softer. As you felt the essence of the notes you’d been playing settle around the two of you from how they’d been silently lingering in the air.

It’s quiet, but there is peace to be found in it.

Bradley is the one to pull away to take your face between his large hands. His brown eyes brimming with warmth.

“I love you so damn much,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you. Delicately, softly, tenderly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” you say running your fingers through his curls. Your heart swells as he leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter close in contentment. Your Golden Boy. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be than here. My home is with you,” he sighs, sleepy and satisfied. But the sincerity in his statement wraps itself around your heart.

“Bradley.”

“Mmhm,” he hums, his eyes still closed.

“Let’s go to bed,” you say softly as you gaze at him. Even half asleep, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And he’s yours. “It’s still too early for even roosters to be up.”

He huffs a little chuckle, cracking one eye open to squint at you. The side of his mouth pulling up on one side in amusement.

You move to climb off of him, but he hooks his hand underneath your thighs. Waiting for you to thread your arms around his neck before he stands up with you in his arms as he starts walking towards his bedroom.

Looking over his shoulder, you notice that little light above his piano is on.

The sky outside Bradley’s window is beginning to lighten now, the dark of night has given way to a dusky navy. There is the gentlest tease of wispy pink and purple cotton candy clouds, a sign that a sure to be stunning sunrise that’s on its way.

And you already know, it’s going to be a good day.

Thank you for reading, friends! This soft little piano fic has been living with me since January and I'm so thrilled that it's out now! I loved getting to share this one with you!

And a sincere thank you to @gretagerwigsmuse, @callsignspark, and @laracrofted for the support, and for letting me send endless snippets and the feedback! I appreciate you so much!

I purposefully left out the song that Bradley's Sweetheart plays, just in case anyone wanted to imagine their perfect song. But if you’re curious, here’s the one that I had in mind when I was writing this: Home (slowed) by Edith Whiskers 🤍

You can read some of my other stories here!

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i just read through the entirety of eye of the storm after finding and reading through flightless bird, and both were INCREDIBLE!! i love these ideas and the details you’ve put into them both. i can’t wait to read more 🩷

Nicole's Masterlist

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Feather Light Series Masterlist

Rose Buchanan left the love of her life asleep and alone in her bed five years ago, mere days after they finally confessed their love for one another. Now, all of these years later she's been called back home to assist in a very dangerous mission. Time is running out to make things right with Bradley before he flies off, all she can do is hope she's done everything in her power to make sure he comes back home.

Eye of The Storm Series Masterlist

Molly Kazansky is the youngest child of the great Admiral Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, after graduating from undergrad, she's ready to return to San Diego with the help of her newfound friend Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. The problem? He's more than a couple years older than her, and he's definitely about to become more than just a friend. Oh, and he's a Naval Aviator under her father's command.

Flightless Bird Series Masterlist

Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

Where Do You Go? Series Masterlist

Your husband died in a training accident, unexpectedly. So what happens when you find yourself leaning on his best friend and wingman, Rooster Bradshaw?

Imagines

The Way Home

Afterglow

In The Light of Day (soft prequel to Afterglow)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Little Did I Know series masterlist

Katherin 'Kate' Buckley lived and worked on the Seresin Family Ranch her whole life. Now she has the pleasure of helping run it. She loves her way of life, loves the simplicity of it. That is, until Jake Sersesin shows back up, looking extremely worse for wear. Slowly, Kate learns that she knows nothing about the man she used to call her best friend anymore. Meanwhile, Jake realizes he doesn't know how to live this kind of life anymore.

Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 10k words (.....yes. 10k. i know)

summary: You've been hooking up with Bradley for three weeks now. You're also hooking up with him tonight.

a/n: this is pure smut. honestly pure smut. 18+ i will now list all the things that you have to look out for. first and foremost i have NEVER written smut before dont kill me pls im trying my best. ok so

name kink, rank kink, choking, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyve had the conversation nothing bad will happen), oral sex!fem receiving, dom bradley, some "good girl" because i am a sucker for that, in general a lot of talking because bradley is A TALKER!!!!!!, a little strength kink? is that a thing? and a shit ton of begging

this can be read as a stand-alone most definitely, but is set in the same universe as "Tuesday Night" and “Not A Coincidence” and "Take Me On A Joyride" so maybe give those a read too?

top gun masterlist

You were behind the bar this evening, a rag in your hands as you wiped down the sticky wooden top for the bazillionth time and hummed along to the music coming from the jukebox. You were behind the bar most evenings, pouring beer and rum and whiskey and mixing cocktails (occasionally taking some sips of your own), smiling and laughing and flirting with customers left and right.

For the past few months now, the most regular of those costumers had been the Dagger squad.

They'd shown up here one random evening and hadn't left since. And it didn't seem like any of them would any time soon.

Not that you wanted them to, oh no. You had grown so close in so little time that it was scary at this point.

"Settle a bet for us, Junior."

Jake slid up to the bar as if it was second nature, putting an empty bottle of beer in front of him and resting one elbow next to it. You looked up at him and smiled, threw your rag over your shoulder and grabbed the bottle, condensation dripping down onto your fingertips. Rooster came up right behind him and your smile deepened even further.

"Hit me, Bagman", you challenged, set two full bottles on the bar top and then rested your forearms against the edge.

Jake grinned at you as he raised his beer in a toast.

"If you had to get with one of us tonight, who'd you get with?"

You didn't even flinch.

"Bradshaw", you said, quick like a shot, and watched Jake's face fall like he'd expected a different answer with just a tiny bit of amusement. You glanced at Rooster, who had already been looking at you, and whose only reaction to the fact that you were literally talking about sleeping with him was a small quirk of his lips.

"Bradshaw? Are you kidding? You- I'll give you a second to think about it, Junior. Don't you wanna think about it for a second?", Jake asked, regaining his facade, letting a tinge of his accent slip as he leaned in and winked at you. "You know, actually think about it. Imagine it. Picture it. Visualise it."

You decided to give him the satisfaction. So you pushed back from the bar top, crossed your arms, raised your eyebrows and eyed the two of them up and down - just because you could, just for the fun of it. Jake was in his usual jeans and shirt, leaning in with a self-assured grin and his hand wrapped around his beer bottle. Bradley was wearing one of those Hawaiian shirts that fit snugly on his bicep, his sunglasses tucked into the collar of the white top underneath, hair on the practically perfect side of unruly and his eyes fixed on yours so intensely that you had to bite down on your tongue for a moment there.

You counted to five.

"Bradshaw", you said again, dropped your arms and grabbed the rag from your shoulder. Jake's lips parted and a betrayed sort of gasp left his mouth before he started complaining - you shook your head and stepped over to the next customer and only allowed yourself to grin when you'd turned away, out of his sight.

You wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

You still didn't know whether to be surprised at this "bet" the both of them had made. You were pretty sure anyway that Jake had been the driving force in that. You knew the two of them well enough by now to not only be aware of their.... you could only call it a rivalry, really, but also of Jake's weird, warped sense of mischief. Maybe he had some narcissism problem or maybe some old trauma response. Who cared? Not you. It made for entertainment every night you were behind the bar. And also every night you were in front of the bar, drinking and dancing with the squad. You loved him, you really did. But definitely not enough to not put a stop to his ego whenever you could.

And if that way was by flaunting how very platonically you felt about him (because he was a self-named womanizer and couldn't understand how anyone could possibly not be attracted to him), you would.

...

It was 2am when Penny told you to pack your things and go. Most of the bar was empty already, except for three or four small groups of people, but those she could manage alone. Usually, maybe, you'd have declined, but tonight....

Well.

Jake had found someone to hook up with after his earlier disappointment and the rest of the squad had left at some point during the last hour too - the rest of the squad except for a particular pornstache guy.

Rooster had said goodbye to Fanboy and Payback ten minutes ago, had assured them he didn't need a ride home, he'd order another drink and then take an uber, had sat down on a bar stool, nursed his beer and watched you clean up and then pack your things. You'd sneaked glances at him now and then, so you knew that he'd watched you.

When you stepped out from behind the bar, he sat up and followed you out of the Hard Deck wordlessly. Armed with a purse, fumbling for your car keys, fighting down the smile on your lips and the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, you took a second outside to close your eyes and breathe in the mild evening air.

Then two arms sneaked around your waist. You let out a sigh as warm breath hit your neck.

"So you'd rather get with me than Bagman, hm, Junior?"

You chuckled, pushing back a little, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to relax for the first time tonight.

"I think you know very well that I'd rather get with you than Bagman, Rooster", you muttered, running your hands up his, up his arms, up naked skin until you could slide your fingertips underneath his shirt, up his shoulders... "I'd rather get with you than anyone."

He pressed a kiss right below your earlobe, bit down softly on the same patch of skin, soothed it again with a kiss.

"Oh, I know", he laughed quietly into your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. You settled even further into his arms. "I'd rather get with you than Bagman, too."

You had to laugh as well - the image of Hangman and Rooster was truly funny. But it was difficult to keep laughing when Bradley pressed more and more kisses to your neck, trailing a line of them down to the hemline of your shirt, nuzzling his nose in there when he couldn't go further. You tilted your head back a little to rest it against his shoulder, a pleasant flush rising up within - a comfortable warmth, the knowledge that you were safe, secure, protected. The way he always made you feel.

"Just to be clear - I do get to get with you tonight, right?", you asked, a grin on your lips because you knew the answer very, very well. Rooster chuckled into your ear and let out a hum.

"What do you think?", he muttered, one last, open-mouthed kiss pressed against your skin before he pulled away, pulled at your hand to twirl you around, pulled a squeal from your lips, one that conjured a smile on his face every time. "Take me home?"

...

The ride home was silent except for the radio in the background, but you were pretty much tuning that out. The steering wheel was sturdy in your hands, the night lights bright and blinding and your concentration on the streets and the car was waning ever so slowly, ever so steadily because Rooster's hand was slowly, steadily inching up your thigh. He'd put it innocently just above your knee when you'd strapped yourself in, his thumb sweeping in circles over the fabric of your jeans, but by now he'd brushed so far up that you were finding it hard to direct your thoughts back to driving.

Luckily, the drive back home only took ten minutes.

You weren't sure you'd have survived even a second more. He squeezed your thigh one last time as you turned the ignition off, then unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door and got out and you were left alone in pure silence for exactly two seconds. You took a deep breath in and out. One day, and you knew that, Bradley would be the death of you. He could get you all riled up with so very little that you felt like you were going mad sometimes. In a very good way, of course.

And just as you were lamenting on the bubbling anticipation in your stomach, on the images your brain conjured whenever you were close to him, whenever you were touching him, whenever-

"Madam", Rooster smiled, leaning one arm on the opened car door and reaching the other hand out for you to take. "Would you do me the honours?"

You could only shake your head and grin at him, giddiness making you squirm in your seat as you pulled your hands away from the steering wheel and put one of them in his.

"I could never deny you any of your wishes, kind sir", you said, allowing him to pull you out of the car and into his arms instead. He hugged you close, tilted his head down to nuzzle your nose with his - you had to put your head back to be able to look into his eyes when you stood this close in front of him, nevermind kissing him.

"Really?", he smiled, his fingertips dancing along your side, hooking into your belt loops, pulling your hips flush to his. You grabbed at his biceps to steady yourself. Or maybe just because you could. "Any of my wishes?"

You let out a sort of agreeable hum and grinned up at him.

"Whatever you want", you nodded.

It was the truth, simple and just. You'd do anything. You'd let him do anything. You trusted him like you'd never trusted anyone before and up until now, you'd only ever been rewarded for putting that kind of trust in him. Something about this felt right. Something about him felt right.

"What if I wanted to spend the rest of the night between your legs?", he muttered, eyes flicking down to your lips as your breath hitched.

"Well", you whispered, because whispering was the only thing you still knew how to do. "As I said, I won't deny you anything."

His eyes met yours and his lip quirked up and then, before you could do anything more, he'd dropped down, wrapped an arm around your legs and hauled you up. You let out a gasp and crossed your arms behind his neck in reflex, a soft, shocked "Rooster!" falling from your lips. Bradley only chuckled, closed the car door with his hip and started carrying you to your front door with seemingly no problem whatsoever.

Gods. Sometimes you forgot just how strong he really was.

But then, in moments like these, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed or pushed you up against a wall and you remembered. And you felt that sting in your stomach that had you press your legs together every time.

Now you didn't even have to remember. Now you were dangling safely from his arms, your hands linked behind his neck, your fingertips buried in his hair, your eyes wide as you watched him, as you tried to steady your irregular breathing because shit, this was happening. This was happening like it had been happening for over three weeks now.

He sat you down carefully in front of the door, but you were in such a trance that you needed to take a moment (or two or three) to stare at him, at this man, this fairytale prince, this god. Your man, your fairytale prince, your god.

"You need to unlock the door, honey", he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you so you were facing the door, his chest pressed to your back, his breath fanning the exposed skin of your neck and right, right, right, the door! The door. The lock. The key. The key in your purse! That key. The key for your door. Right. Key, key, key.... Where the hell was that goddamn key? You were sure it was somewhere there in your purse. You'd put it in there like you always put it in there. Key, Key, Rooster, Rooster's arms around you, Rooster's hands brushing over your skin, Rooster's breath on your ear, Rooster between your legs, Rooster- Key! Key, key, key---

There.

At the very bottom of your purse, finally! There it was. You pulled it out with an almost triumphant sound, unlocked your door to Rooster's soft laughter behind you and stumbled into the dark hallway in a half-intoxicated way that shouldn't have been possible because you hadn't drunk anything tonight.

You threw your purse to the side and switched on the light and turned to Rooster just in time for him to have closed the door behind him and reached for you, his hands on your hips - so big, splayed so wide, his fingers so long - crowding you against the wall, his breath fanning over your mouth and then, finally, his lips on yours.

For the first time today, you were kissing him. He was so wide, so tall, so huge, everywhere all around you, his arms, his hands, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin and his cheeks and his lips and his hair. Your hands sunk into that hair, tugging at the roots and grabbing his head as though your life depended on it, depended on keeping him safely, steadily right on front of you, right here, pushing you against the wall and leaving you practically no room to breathe, to touch, to feel anything other than him.

You wanted him.

With every fibre of your body, your soul, every particle, every cell, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere all at once and you wanted him now.

So you bit down on his lip and allowed his tongue in and brushed your hands down his shoulders, down his chest to pull off that god-awful Hawaiian shirt that you admittedly found very attractive, but that was so incredibly, annoyingly in the way right now. You tugged it off his chest and down his arms and didn't care when it fell to the floor - that was where it should be, that was where it belonged.

You reached for the top then, for his waist to brush your fingertips below its hem, pushed it up, up, up until you could feel bare skin, washboard abs against your palms. That satisfied you for a moment - for a moment of running your fingers along the sharp edges of his stomach, for a moment of feeling his body heat, for a moment of being closer.

Luckily, Rooster had always been quite in-tune with you. He noticed the very second that your satisfaction turned to impatience, that your roaming, wandering hands weren't exploring, weren't enjoying anymore but were searching, longing for more - for more skin to touch, more, more, more.

He pulled away from your lips to get rid of his top, leaving you a panting, wide-eyed mess and by god, he'd only just gotten started. He hadn't even touched you. How were you already so wound up?

You blamed the fact that you'd had to stare at him from a distance for the past five days (you'd had late night shifts, he'd had early training days) and decided not to think about it further.

Especially not as his top joined his shirt on the floor, as he looked up at you with red smudged on his chin, kiss-swollen lips and unruly hair. His chest was heaving, his breath coming shorter than usual and his pupils had grown so dark you had to swallow hard.

Without thinking, you reached out and tried to wipe your lipstick off his skin.

That made him grin a little.

"Rooster?", you muttered, looking him right in the eyes. He let out a hum as he stared, a bit lost in thought it seemed and still quite shamelessly, only further at your lips. "Either take me to the bedroom or take a step back so I can get on my knees."

He let out a chuckle then and met your eyes, digging his fingers through your belt loops and pulling you a few inches away from the wall.

"I think you may have forgot something, honey", he said. "What about that wish I made?"

You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to let your imagination run wild.

Rooster only grinned, and it seemed that your expression showed him just how much you didn't mind his wish at all, because he reached around you, grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, so effortlessly that it made you blush a little. You didn't even have to hold onto him, only had to wrap your legs loosely around his hips as he carried you through the hallway and into the bedroom.

That allowed you to focus all of your attention on pressing your lips to his skin.

He was warm. So warm. You trailed your lips all over his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his bicep, and then, when you couldn't go any further down, Rooster had already found the light switch in your room and was dropping you onto your bed, pulling a surprised gasp from you.

The mattress was soft and bouncy as you landed on it, heat in your cheeks and your throat tightening at the sight in front of you - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw standing at the foot of of your bed, half-naked, sweaty, breathing heavy and looking down at you like he was a predator and you were his prey, like he wanted to devour you whole.

Which he did.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows at the same time that he advanced - pounding on you, almost, with a grin on his lips that set ablaze the slumbering flame in your abdomen. You didn't know which one of you got rid of your shirt, only that a few seconds later his lips were on yours, his hands reaching for your bra clasp and your shirt discarded somewhere on your floor.

You breathed hard against his mouth as his fingertips brushed along your back, along your bra, then slowly slid it off your shoulders, down your arms...

Cold air hit your breasts just as Rooster pulled away from you to fling your bra away to join your shirt on the floor, leaving you cold and panting, your eyes closing and opening again and staring at him as he stared at you, as he admired you, all bare, soft skin right there, right in front of him, just for him and nobody else.

You felt his palms against your ribcage then, pushing you down onto your back, onto the mattress, your breath hitching and your eyes closing in anticipation. He dropped a kiss onto your collarbone. Another just above your cleavage. Another onto the top of your breasts. His thumbs brushed right below them.

You wanted more. You always wanted more. You needed more.

But he was just trailing kisses along your breasts, never lingering for long enough, never biting or sucking or licking and as much as you were enjoying this... You needed more.

"Rooster", you sighed, dragging your hands through his hair because you needed more. He hummed against your skin. You could feel the vibration all over. "Roos, please."

He grinned - against your skin at first, before he looked up and right at you. "What was that?"

You bit down on your lip. God damn him. He always did this. Every single time, he did this. And the worst part was: You didn't even mind. You didn't mind begging, you didn't mind pleading, you didn't mind doing so much of it that you couldn't do, couldn't say anything else anymore. So you did just that.

"Please", you repeated, a little breathlessly. Rooster's grin widened.

And then he pulled away completely.

You could have screamed. You honestly thought, just for a second, that he would leave you lying there - panting and begging for him, with a bare chest and arousal heating up every part of you. But of course not. Of course not. This was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. He didn't leave you unsatisfied.

No.

Rooster got up from the bed only to grab you by the waist, to pull you down to the edge and kneel down on the floor. You swallowed hard. He fiddled with your shoes first, loosening the laces and taking them off, tugging down your socks and your pants and oh dear lord, you couldn't concentrate on anything he was doing.

He was kneeling in front of your bed. You bit back a moan from that alone.

Any and all forms of Bradley Bradshaw were jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but to you, nothing would ever top the sight of him on his knees for you.

You tuned back in when your jeans thumped to the floor, when his fingertips danced softly, teasingly up your calves, up your knees, up your thighs. You clenched your jaw when he reached your underwear, when his eyes met yours again in one final reassurance that this was what the both of you wanted, and then he pulled it down your legs too and hooked his hands behind your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a deep breath - one, two, one, two.

One, two.

One, two.

You frowned and blinked open your eyes again.

Rooster was staring at you, blatantly staring at you with a knowing smirk plastered on his lips and his fingers digging into your hips, sure to hold you in place, not allowing you to push even an inch closer to him.

"Roos", you whined, for what already felt like the dozenth time tonight, your hand sinking into his hair, splaying out, tugging at the strands, trying your hardest to pull him in. He didn't move.

"Yes?", he asked, with that grin just deepening, telling you he knew exactly what he was doing.

Of course he did. Of course he'd make you- God, of course, of course, of course! It had been his idea. It had been his plan, his wish, his goddamn idea and now he was making you-

"Fuck", you grumbled, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to do this because he hadn't even had you lying here for five minutes and he already wanted you to do this. "Roos, just-"

He bit down softly on the skin of your thigh then, pulling a surprised gasp from you, leaving your sentence hanging half-finished in mid air. You had to tilt your head back, had to throw a hand over your face because gods, you couldn't look at him now! Not with his breath meeting your thigh, with the feeling of his moustache against your skin, not with that grin on his lips. If you did, you'd melt in less than a heartbeat. You weren't about to give in that easily.

At least that was what you told yourself. You repeated it in your head like a mantra - he had barely touched you, he was the one who'd wished for this, you wouldn't... you weren't... you hadn't...

Fuck!

"C'mon honey", he encouraged, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh. You let out a shaky breath. He was close, so close now and he had you wound so tightly, so incredibly tightly that you felt like you were burning up from inside and-

"Bradley", you gave in, the word falling, tumbling from your lips in almost a moan. "Please, Bradley, please."

He was on you in a heartbeat. Licking a stripe up your slit, tongue flattened and you cried out, digging your fingers deeper into his hair, pulling, pushing, back arching off the bed as he finally, finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. He dove in like a starved man, licking, pushing, tasting you, devoured and ravaged you, took everything and gave everything at the same time.

Bradley was a god. You'd never had a man eat you out like this until you met him.

His hands pressing against your hips to hold you down, to keep you right there for him, not letting you move an inch from him, only letting you push impossibly closer, your mind, your body screaming more. More, more, more. More of him. More from him. More him.

His tongue found your clit. You cried his name into the vast nothingness of your bedroom, eyes squeezing close and hand cramping into the sheets next to your head, thighs clamping around his head, caging him in, his palms forcing your back still on the mattress.

You could faintly make out your own moans, your own voice as his tongue circled, traced and dipped -

More.

He drew your clit into his mouth. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, send a shiver through your body, make your legs twitch.

Please.

He sunk his tongue into you, brushed your clit, up and down and everywhere.

Bradley.

You were coming close. Close, so close. Every inch of your skin was tensing in anticipation, clenching, clutching. You babbled something of the sort, not listening to yourself, not able to, not starting or stopping, controlling none of your words, none of the sounds falling from your lips. Bradley loosened one of his palms from your hips and immediately you were pushing, arching up, held down a heartbeat later as he pinned his arm down again, his tongue working you, not faltering once and-

pressure.

His thumb on your clit.

You screamed out his name.

Your nails dug into his scalp. Your heels clasped around his back. Every single nerve in your body was on fire. And Bradley didn't stop.

He worked you right through your high, circling his thumb on your clit and sinking his tongue into you, holding you down, holding you close until you were panting, gasping, your legs unclasping from his head, your fingers loosening in his hair, loosening from the bedsheets, your eyes fluttering open, meeting his and only then did he relent. He pulled back softly, stilling his thumb and pressing a kiss to your thigh, watching you as you slowly came back to reality, back to him.

You blinked once. Twice.

He pulled his thumb from you as he rose up from the floor, running his hands along your sides instead, along your ribs, your breasts, your throat, studying the irregular rise and fall of your chest, mapping out your body beneath his. You watched with parted lips as he brought both his hands steadily down next to your head, as he leaned down to meet you in a kiss - heavy and heady and intense and full of all the right emotions. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

But before you could do any more, press yourself up or pull him down, he was gone again, hot breath meeting your lips and that familiar smile crawling back up onto his face.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asked, tilting his head to the side a little, catching the light of the overhead lamp. Wetness glistened on his moustache. You bit down on your bottom lip, doing your hardest to conceal the smile that was fighting to get to the surface.

Instead, you let out an agreeable hum and brought your hand up to his stache to wipe at it, to wipe some of you off him and admittedly, you already knew that wouldn't do much - but the simple act of innocently cleaning him off like that, fingers brushing above his mouth, just caressing his skin, it made something in your stomach churn.

"How about you? Now that we've checked one wish off your list... Any more?", you muttered, trailing your fingers along his cheek, down his scars, following those lines of skin you knew so well, burning them into your mind, burning him into your mind. You'd never seen anyone as beautiful. You didn't think there was anyone as beautiful out there. Your breath hitched, fingertips catching on a birthmark, before you snapped your eyes back up to his. "Any more wishes at all, Bradley?"

A sort of grunt left him as you did your best not to grin - you knew just what buttons to push, didn't you?

"You know", he muttered, dropping his head, brushing his nose down the sensitive skin of your throat. "I could think of a few more things."

"Yeah?", you asked, just on the right side of breathless again, skin tingling wherever he decided to place a few deliberate, almost chaste kisses. "Like what?"

He'd worked his way down to your breasts again, still holding himself up with both his hands.

"I could fuck you nice and slow, just like you deserve it", he said softly, the words flowing from him as easily as if he were talking about breakfast the next day. Rational, sober, collected. You, on the other hand, could feel the wetness pooling in between your legs again. You couldn't believe how reasonable, how practical, how composed he could stay while he said things like that - how he'd fuck you, how he'd eat you out, how he'd pull every single thought from your mind with his fingers and his mouth and his cock.

"Or", he went on, completely unbothered still, stopping in between words to drop kisses onto your breasts. "I could fuck you hard and fast, because that's what you want, right?"

A moan tumbled from your lips all of its own accord, your eyes fluttering shut again. He was conjuring visuals in your mind that had you clenching your legs together, hands clawing their way back up into his hair - you needed something to keep you here and now, to keep you grounded.

"I'm right, honey, aren't I?", he muttered, obviously satisfied with himself. "You want me to fuck you rough, don't you?"

You were sure you'd crossed some border into heaven and just hadn't realised it. This man would truly be the death of you one day.

"Yes", you breathed, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Yes, please, Bradley."

You could feel his grin against your bare skin.

"You look so pretty begging for me, honey", he smiled, raising himself up and before you could complain much about it, before you could as much as open your eyes again, he was dropping a kiss to your lips, long and longing, parted lips pressed against each other, breathing each other in.

Then he pulled away from you completely and you did let a whine fall from your lips after all, raising yourself up onto your elbows to blindly follow after him as he straightened up and then bent down to pull off his shoes, his socks, to fumble with his belt - all in fucking slow motion apparently, that's how long it took, two hours just to take off his goddamn socks and you were just sitting there, staring, blinking, hazy mind clearing up the way it always had to after you'd been so close to him, watching, staring, watching, staring...

An eternity, it seemed, until you grew too impatient and decided to take matters into your own hands. Quite literally.

You pushed yourself up, reached for his belt yourself, pulled it from its buckle, unhooked it, opened it finally, finally, finally! and blinked up at him again, all wide eyes and smudged lipstick and swollen lips and Bradley felt pretty sure he died a little just then - this had to be heaven, you had to be heaven. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and your tongue ran along your lips and he had to swallow hard.

His jeans fell to the floor, chased quickly by his boxer briefs and you took a deep breath as you looked at him, leaning forward, leaning in to reach for him-

He took both your hands in his and pushed you down on the mattress again, another of those pathetic whines dropping from your lips at being denied the feeling of him.

"Fuck, Roos, please", you begged, sounding pitiful to your own ears by now, pleading for something you knew he'd give to you anyway, just so goddamn impatient that you couldn't even help the words rolling off your tongue.

He let go of your hands, reached for your waist instead to pull you up, to tug you firmly farther up the mattress until he could follow after safely, until he could nudge your knees apart and trail a line of kisses up your shoulder, his hands finding their usual spot next to your head.

"What was that, honey?", he grinned against your skin, holding himself up above you to look you right in the eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled a moan from yourself and a similar groan from him, squeezed your eyes shut and had immediately forgotten what it'd been you'd said before. What it'd been he was asking about.

He brought one hand down to your thigh, squeezing tight, holding you even tighter to him, and pressed his hips down into the mattress, pulling another moan from you and, again, a similar groan from himself, making sure that you couldn't move against him on your own, that you were completely at his mercy.

As always.

"Please", you whined, desperate now, trying to rock your hips against his and not succeeding, not succeeding because he was holding you still, holding you down, holding you helpless and defenseless, withholding the one goddamn thing you wanted from him right now. And after all that talk too! "Roos, please, Bradley, do something."

You were far from whining now, breathless and moaning and sobbing basically, hands clawing at his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, begging and pleading and he was just holding still, doing nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing and you wanted more, you wanted something, anything.

"Look at me", he panted then - the only sign at all that he was somehow affected by this as well. "Look at me, honey, open your eyes."

And what else were you supposed to do but follow that command, grant him that wish?

So you forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look at him.

A thin layer of sweat gleaned on his skin. His stare was fixed on you and you alone. And his pupils had dilated so far that his usually hazel eyes were practically black now. You sucked in an unsteady breath.

"Good girl", he praised and you were done for.

You could have come from that alone.

Those two words, breathed into the nothingness of the room, onto your lips, onto your naked skin, sent a shiver down your spine, down your back and your hips and your legs, a shiver so violent that it pulled a moan right with it, a string of them. You barely heard Bradley's groan above you before he pulled away just the slightest bit, pulled away to brush his hand down your side, down your chest, down your hips, between your bodies, to reach for himself and stroke his tip through the wetness between your legs, your back arching off the mattress, into him, into more of him and-

"Wait", you panted.

Bradley froze immediately. His expression shifted to worry in the span of half a second, furrowing his brows and pulling away from you.

"What's wrong?", he asked, still breathless. You closed your eyes and took a breath, tensing, forcing yourself to keep down on the mattress, even as cold settled on your skin now that he wasn't warming you up anymore - inches away from you again. Considerate idiot.

"Just-", you stopped, opened your eyes, looked right at him. "Do you think Jake suspects anything?"

Bradley kept still for a few seconds. A shallow breath and another, your chest rising and falling and you had a hard time thinking, even now that he was barely touching you anymore. You were wound tightly, and you'd been so close, and now...

"You're not seriously thinking about Jake right now", Bradley said, almost accusingly.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange - you were naked, panting, your legs wrapped around his hips, and still you were thinking about Jake, about the bet, about what you'd said hours ago at the bar. You hadn't even been thinking about it, really. It had just come to you, overwhelming you, and you... you had needed to get it out. Still, you did have to admit, it was absurd.

So you bit down on your lip to conceal a smile, a grin, trailed your hands to his hair to brush it behind his ears, almost innocently (but just almost).

"I'm sorry, I just...", you whispered, stroking your hands down his scalp. "We've kept this between us for three weeks now. I don't want to have ruined that."

Bradley shook his head at you, dropped it to his chin, his curls brushing your nose, your cheeks, and sighed onto the skin of your throat.

"You're unbelievable", he muttered, dropping a kiss between your breasts now that he knew you weren't uncomfortable or afraid or anything of the sort in the slightest. Your breath hitched again. You didn't want to talk about this. You wanted him inside you, wanted him to make good on his promise from before. But you knew you had to, because otherwise the thought wouldn't leave you alone, even though the coil in your stomach, the heat in your body screamed bloody murder at you for it.

He looked back up, raised his chin again to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry about Jake", he reassured, one hand starting to softly, just so very softly, brush up and down your side. You had to swallow. "He won't even remember tomorrow."

He dropped another kiss onto your skin, a little further down, that grin, that moustache against your ribs.

"And I'll make sure you won't remember either, pretty girl. Alright?"

You nodded so quickly you almost got a head rush, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, head tilting back just the slightest, your fingers digging into his hair as his lips trailed down your skin, the covers rustling as he settled further back, as his breath ghosted over your center again.

"Need to hear you say it, honey. Say it for me."

"Please", you babbled instantly, not even thinking, not even close, not when Bradley was giving you such easy instructions to follow. "Please, Roos, please."

You could feel him shake his head, obviously unsatisfied, breathing hard, hands travelling up and down your thighs and nothing more, leaving you in some state of being touched but not really being touched and you felt like going insane again.

"Try again, honey", he tutted, and you were already about to plead, to beg even more when he went on - "Look at me, baby, look at me and try again."

You blinked open your eyes, tilted your head down to look at him, all pretty and wide-eyed, just like he'd asked, your fingers cramping in his hair.

"Please, Roos-"

He raised his eyebrows and you knew then, you knew where your mistake had been - you should've known before, you should've-

"Bradley", you moaned. "Please, Bradley, I want you. I need you."

He grinned at that, dropped a kiss to your thigh before flattening his tongue against your folds again, drawing another moan from you. Your eyes stayed fixed on his, but only because you knew he wanted you to, only because you knew he needed you to. His palms splayed out against the backs of your thighs, keeping them still, as always.

His tongue drew a circle on your clit and you arched off the bed, into him, a whine tumbling from your lips, followed by his name. He pulled back much too quickly, much too easily, with a much too satisfied grin on his lips, looking up at you for just a second before he leaned down to drop a kiss to your hip.

"Bradley", you complained, cut off by your own moan when you felt his fingers trail through your wetness instead of his tongue, all soft and slow and you rocked your hips against his hand - more friction, more touch, more, more, more.

You hadn't been kidding when you'd said that you wanted him. That you needed him.

Bradley chuckled, kissing his way up your body again, one hand next to your head to hold himself up just the way he'd done before, but his fingers brushing, stroking, his thumb on your clit, moan after moan spilling from you. You needed more. More.

You tried to shift closer, tried to cant your hips into his palm for more, blinking up at him and whimpering and fuck, Bradley was just human after all, how could he deny you anything if you looked at him like that? So he started drawing little circles with his thumb, little circles on your clit, and pushed a finger into you.

You rewarded him with the soft sound of his name rolling off your tongue, your hands reaching for his arms, clawing at his biceps. You had needed this, had needed him and now... Now you needed more. More, even as he pulled his finger from you and pushed in again, starting in a slow, easy rhythm, drawing little moans, quiet whimpers from you. You rocked your hips back onto him, pushed for more. More.

"More", you voiced your thoughts, begging, pleading again - you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted, you weren't getting what you wanted! And you'd been so close, you'd been so goddamn close, but now he was just lazily pushing his finger into you, with one of those grins on his lips that told you he knew what he was doing incredibly well too. He was a tease, a goddamn tease, and you-

"More what, honey?", Bradley asked, interrupting your thoughts, your spiraling thoughts as his finger moved ever so slowly, teasing, playing.

You let out a whine as he stilled completely, his finger nestled inside you, touching you but not touching you enough, not nearly enough and he'd make you go crazy one day, he would! You tried to push your hips into his hand. Not that it did anything.

"More what?", Bradley asked again, looked at you as you refocused on his face, his eyes because you knew he'd want you to. He always wanted you to look at him.

"Please", you whispered. "Bradley."

His smile deepened, but he didn't move.

"Nice try, baby", he chuckled. "But that wasn't the question."

You grumbled and tilted your head back, squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. You wanted more. And he was making you say exactly what.

Putting the power in your hands, it seemed - but you knew it wasn't that. He'd already promised you to do just what you wanted, had said it so easily, so soberly that he'd left you dazed. And now he was asking you to do the same.

You couldn't. He knew you couldn't.

So you let out a small whimper, let your head fall to the side to look at him again, eyes wide and teeth digging into your bottom lip and kept still as best as you could, even as the desire, the need to fuck yourself on his finger grew with every passing breath - trying to make sure that he wouldn't tease you further. He'd done that before already, you knew that he could and he would.

He seemed to have realised it too, your legs, your hips calm now, your eyes fixed on his.

"Please fuck me, Bradley", you said softly, only a little breathlessly, a little nervous around the edges, doing your best not to let your restraint show. You weren't used to just saying stuff like that out loud. It was different, somehow, to say it, and to say it right to his face too.

But as much as you tried to hide it, your body still had the same reaction - breath coming shorter, heat shooting straight to your cheeks, the coil in your stomach tightening again.

Bradley's eyes on yours didn't make it any better.

Neither did his grin as he pulled his finger from you, pulled a moan from your lips right with it, as he brushed it through your folds, up and down before his fingertip stopped on your clit.

"Fuck you how, honey?", he asked. He wanted you to lose your mind, you were sure of that. You bit down on your lip, furrowed your brows, forced yourself to think, to keep thinking even though he was drawing circles on your clit now, bringing you back to the endless loop of more, more, more in your mind.

"Fuck me-", you panted, starting and stopping, closing your eyes. "Rough, please, Bradley. Please."

He pulled his fingers from you entirely, chuckling as you mewled and blinked up at him again, as you watched him raise his hand to your lips. You parted them in reflex, let him push his fingers into your mouth, rest them on your tongue. This, finally, was something you felt much less nervous about. So you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked his fingers clean.

Bradley had you well acquainted with the taste of yourself by now. Not that you minded.

You made sure to keep your eyes fixed on his as you brushed your tongue along his fingertips. He let out some sort of sound caught between a moan and a groan and a curse and, maybe, your name, and you had a hard time keeping your grin concealed as you sucked, spurred on not only the fire in your own abdomen, but in Bradley's as well, red heating up your cheeks and your legs growing restless.

You were getting impatient again. You needed more.

Luckily, it seemed that Bradley had about enough of this as well.

He pulled his fingers from you with a pop, shook his head with a grin, trailed a line of your spit around your breasts, around your nipples.

"You look sinful", he muttered, dropping a kiss to your lips before you could even begin to think about a response, all open mouth and breathing each other in, the taste of you on both your tongues. "Tell me again how you want me to fuck you rough, honey. Just once more. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, nodded without thinking, panting a bit now, pressing your legs together at his voice, at the look in his eyes, at... at him, at everything about him. You needed him. You'd do anything he asked.

"Fuck me rough, Bradley. Please."

His eyes darkened further. He brought his lips down on yours again, firmer now, heavier now, claiming your mouth, your tongue, your lips, claiming you, back to the familiar, thrilling predator and prey game that the two of you had abandoned at some point along the way.

"Good girl", he rasped.

You let out a pitiful moan. God, this man would absolutely be the death of you.

Good girl.

You couldn't press your legs together any further, couldn't possibly get any more friction, could only whine and whimper and moan and wait, wait as Bradley reached between your bodies and finally, finally, finally pushed into you.

You'd been waiting for this for the past five days.

You let out some pathetic sounding sob of his name as he pressed his hips snugly to yours, stretching you out in the best of possible ways, dropping his lips to your throat, to your neck. You clawed at his arms, at his shoulders, pulled him close to you, even closer. Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, breath hitching.

Bradley gave you the entirety of half a second to adjust to him, half a second in which you could barely get past the moan of his name before he was moving, thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of you, drawing sounds you'd have been embarrassed about in any other situation.

But you could barely hear them.

You could barely do anything other than moan, anything other than scratch, hold, claw at him, anything other than let him wrap your legs around his waist and push in, pull out, push in again, his hold on your thigh so firm you'd see the marks tomorrow.

He fucked you with a relentlessness that reduced you to a mess of numb limbs, that pulled every last thought from you, one by one - with a rhythm, unfaltering, unwavering, with soft grunts and moans rolling off his tongue, with his mouth moving against your skin, working his way up to yours.

You met his lips in a frenzy, your hands tangled somewhere in his hair, your nails scratching somewhere down his back, your legs wrapped around his hips, your lips parted, your moans swallowed, his cock sliding in and out of you, the delicious drag of him building, setting alight the coil in your stomach.

You'd been waiting for this for too long. You wouldn't last much longer, not after he'd already pulled the first orgasm from you. Not after he'd been building you up for so long.

"Bradley", you moaned against his lips. "More."

He pulled back an inch and you blinked your eyes open, focused on him, on the blush on his cheeks and the rise and the fall of his chest as he slowed down a bit, drawing another whine from you, feeling different now, slower yes, but more deliberate maybe, more teasing maybe, hitting other spots, dragging it out, feeling more and less intense all the same and - most importantly - letting your close, so close grow weaker and weaker and weaker.

"You know-", Bradley panted, letting his thumb brush over the skin of your thigh, loosening his grip just the slightest. "You know how to ask, pretty girl."

A sob made its way past your lips. You wanted more, you needed more - you'd be good for him, you wanted to be good for him, but you forgot, you brushed right past it when he had you like this. So wasn't it his fault, really?

"Fuck me harder, Bradley", you whimpered - you'd lost the ability to feel embarrassed somewhere along the way. You didn't care anymore, not with his cock so slowly sliding in and out of you, not with his eyes on yours, not with... no, not anymore, you needed more now and you were desperate to get it, already rocking your hips back onto him in search of more - more friction, more touch, more him.

He pressed his lips to yours again, back to claiming you, back to firm, back to teeth and tongue before pulling away, pulling out, pulling another wail from you as he sat back on his ankles, hard and panting.

Then his hands clasped around your waist and you had no time to react before he had turned you over, your face smushed into the pillow, fingers reaching up to dig into the sheets.

He thrust back into you in one swift motion.

And you screamed.

You didn't know how he did it - you didn't want to know, really - but he hit that sensitive spot inside of you instantly, the new position allowing new depth, allowing new touches, new feelings, new and more and you couldn't think, could only touch, only feel.

Only touch, only feel him.

The drag of him, the push of him, the way he hit all those spots he needed to hit to have you up there, to have you close within seconds again.

He trailed his fingertips along your spine, sent a shiver through your body as he fucked you rough, just like you'd asked of him so very, very nicely. He reached your neck, reached around to your throat and when his fingers brushed along your jaw, he clasped his hand around it and pulled. Pulled you up, right to his chest, sweat sticking to your skin as you moaned his name.

You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, gave him more skin to touch, more of your body to claim, more of you to make his as he thrust relentlessly into you, as his other hand brushed between your legs, up your thighs until his fingers met your clit, pushed down and pulled an even louder moan of his name from you.

His hand closed around your throat at the same time.

You choked back a gasp, breath hitching, back arching off him and into him both, more and less clashing in your mind because this was what you wanted, this was what you'd begged him for, but all of it so suddenly, following each other so closely - too much, not enough.

You clenched around him.

Bradley let out a moan - his lips against your ear, the sound of it in every fibre of your body, of your mind, of your soul. And that was it for you.

You came with another cry of his name - a scream, a sob, maybe, or none of it, you weren't sure - maybe you let out no sound at all, rendered silent for once. The world was white for a second, your mouth dry, your throat hoarse, pleasure coarsing through every vein, every limb, every muscle, every bone.

You went slack against him. Your legs gave out, your eyes fell shut, your arms, your hands loose at your sides, and the only reason you didn't fall back onto your mattress were Bradley's arms around you - on your throat, around your hips. His fingertips circling your clit still, his hips snug to yours as he bit down on your shoulder, as he reached his own high, his moustache scratching deliciously against your skin, grounding you as your breath slowly came back to normal, as you won back the feeling in your legs.

You stayed still for a minute - just catching your breath, allowing yourself to take whatever time you needed to come back to yourself, to really notice the way Bradley held you up all on his own, the way his chest felt against your back, the way he had his lips pressed to the skin of your shoulder, the way his thumbs brushed ever so softly up and down, one along your throat, one along your stomach.

You never wanted this to end.

You were warm and safe and satisfied in his arms.

A slow smile spread on your face. Bradley's breath fanned softly over the shell of your ear. You could feel your own heart beat in your chest.

"Satisfied now, honey?", Bradley rasped, voice rough in all the right ways, his lips ghosting over your neck. You let out a soft hum in agreement. He chuckled against your skin.

"I'm gonna let go of you now, princess", he cautioned (you could just so push back the whine that wanted to escape) before ever so slowly, ever so carefully pulling his hand from your throat, pulling his arm from around you - softly pushing down on your back instead, hands wrapped around your hips again, laying you back down on the mattress and then turning you over. The bed was cold in comparison to him. Cold and lonely.

He had to pull out as he lay you down and that whine left your lips after all - you were empty and cold and lonely now and you wanted him, more of him, all of him again. Your legs were mushy and your mind still reeling, but you didn't have to think much anyway, not when you knew just what you wanted. You reached out, arms, hands in mid air as you tried to grab him, any of him.

He was sitting back on his ankles, running his hands through his hair, meeting your eyes as he saw you reach out for him. He looked positively exhausted.

You got hold of his hands and pulled him down, onto you. He brought them - and yours right with them - down next to your head in reflex, effectively pinning you down, and though neither of you had planned that, you still had to fight back a smile.

You were breathless, chest still heaving with the sticky intoxication of the moment, sweaty and hot and satisfied, truly, and you wanted him to wrap you up in his arms now and let you fall asleep on his chest.

Instead, he leaned in with a grin and kissed you. Kissed you with all the fiery passion fading into heady contentment, slow and deliberate, because he had all the time in the world now - it was the middle of the night and both of you were growing tired, your bones heavy, your muscles aching deliciously, your thoughts quiet, lazy almost. The middle of the night where romance could now dominate what had before been lust's reign.

That was what this felt like, Bradley's body on yours, his skin sticky with sweat, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing down into the mattress. This felt like golden honey dripping down onto the reality of the moment, like gods' ichor flowing in your veins, like unnecessarily long and flowery metaphors for a feeling you felt too afraid to name this early on.

Bradley pulled away, let go of your hands and sat back once more - you followed him on some invisible kind of string, pushing up onto your palms, blinking at him in confusion.

He dropped another quick kiss onto your lips with a chuckle.

"Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?", he asked, a grin playing on his lips, his hands brushing over your ribcage, your stomach as though he, too, had some carnal need to keep touching you, to keep his fingertips moving over your skin at all times.

You closed your eyes, allowed the smile on your face to grow as wide as it wanted, and nodded at him.

"Yes, please, Roos", you mumbled, bathing in the yellow light of your bedroom lamp, in the soft buzzing of the ac, in the rhythmic tic-toc of your kitchen clock. In all these daily-life things, because they weren't daily-life right now. Right now, Bradley had just fucked you, right now, Bradley was sitting in front of you, right now, Bradley had his hands on your body, right now... Right now, you were happy, happy and satisfied, content with the world.

"Back to Rooster, are we?", he asked, drew his hands back from you and got up. Your smile deepened.

"I thought you liked your callsign", you quipped back innocently, eyes opening again as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off of your mattress, into the air, just because he could, just because you wanted him to. You didn't think you'd ever possibly get tired of his strength. He was a bit like your own, personally crafted superhero.

"I do", he muttered. You crossed your arms behind his neck, pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "But the entire squad uses it."

"Oh", you said, exactly like that, because oh, indeed. "So when I say Rooster..."

"I think of work."

You pulled back a bit to look at him, even as his eyes were focused on the wall, trying to find the light switch for the bathroom.

"And you don't like that", you concluded, teeth digging into your bottom lip as a thought struck you. "You don't like thinking of work, Lieutenant?"

Bradley froze.

Bullseye.

"What did you say?"

His eyes focused on you, fixated on you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed. You did your best try at an innocent smile, at a doe-eyed look somehow, but you doubted you achieved anything even remotely close.

"Lieutenant", you muttered again, heat pooling in your lap once more simply at the look on his face. You'd uncovered another one of his layers and you were already anticipating the consequences. "Do you want me to beg again?"

It Can’t Be That Bad

➪the one where bradley fixes his mistake.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, once again a pain kink, arguments, fighting, descriptions of injuries, jake and bradley brawl for quick a minute, bradley being whipped for you, age gap, oral (f receiving), body worship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 9.6k | Part 1 - Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The Bronco was barely in park before Bradley was pulling out the keys and swinging the door open. He stuffs them into his pocket, along with his phone and wallet, as he enters the Hard Deck, his free hand fumbling to take off his aviators. His eyes scan the busy bar, looking for any glimpse of you.

After a full sweep of the room, he spots you over by the bar, phone in hand and a smile on your face that was so clearly forced, Bradley felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He stopped short of reaching you when he clued in to the person next to you, the man being the same one who introduced you to him in the first place. “Fucking Hangman,” he muttered under his breath when he saw the way Jake inched closer to you.

You were sitting on a stool while Jake loomed over you, both of you holding a beer in your hands. From Bradley’s point of view, you and Jake looked like a couple who were having a hard time trying not to jump each other’s bones right here and now, and an ugly feeling began creeping up his throat. 

Bradley supposed that was what you and he looked like when you ventured out to the bar together, back before he fucked up and stupidly let you go. 

That was the nice way of putting it. 

He rejected you. You gave him your heart and he threw it back at you without a second thought. He pushed you away without thinking about how it would make you feel, despite him feeling the exact same way, perhaps even stronger. 

Just the sight of you had all the air leaving his lungs. You are so beautiful and so caring and genuine to those around you. How could he ever let you believe you weren’t good enough for him? 

The last six weeks were ones he never wanted to experience ever again. He hated having no one to come home to, and he hated how it could’ve easily been you waiting on that dock for him, had he returned your feelings. The next time he was deployed, he desperately wanted you to be there for him when he got back. He wanted to come home to you. 

Without really having a plan in mind, Bradley made his way over to the bar, the crowded space making it a bit tough. He was a big guy, though, and used it to his advantage on the rare occasions when he felt he needed to. Like right now. 

He pushed past Bob, who had moved to greet him, but Bradley just gave him a quick pat on the back as he passed him. When he was a few feet away, he met Jake’s eyes and watched as he leaned down towards you.

Before Jake could give you the warning that he was right behind you, Bradley closed the distance and moved to stand on the other side of you. “Y/n,” he said, nearly breathless at being near you again after six weeks without you. 

You stiffen and glance over at him before turning to Jake and glaring at him. “Thanks for the warning,” you mutter and Jake just held his hands up in defense, making no move to walk away and give you some alone time with Bradley, like he so desperately wanted. 

“Hey, I tried,” he defended himself, reaching over and grabbing his bottle of beer. “Rooster’s fast when he needs to be, I guess.”

“Y/n,” Bradley said again and ignored Jake as he brought your attention back to him, refraining from placing his hand on the small of your back like he always did when you were beside him at the bar. “Can we talk, please?”

You looked up at him with a near-blank expression before sighing, running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the bottle in front of you. “I don’t think we need to, Bradley,” you answered and he furrowed his brows.

“Why not?” He asked, shaking his head slightly when you began to stand up. “You said we’d-”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off as you stepped backwards and towards Jake, who just placed his hand on your hip, surely knowing it would make Bradley see red. “I said I’d see you tonight, not that I would talk to you. I didn’t come here with you, Bradley, so there’s no reason I need to talk to you.”

Your words felt like a punch directly to his heart, and he just stared at you when Jake guided you away from the bar and towards the pool tables. He stayed still, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Jake’s head as the man showed off just how good he was at the game.

“Hey, Rooster,” Penny’s kind voice said from beside him. “Want your usual?”

But Bradley just shook his head, never tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Fucking. Hangman. “Not tonight,” he answered as Jake pulled you into his side, mirroring the way Bradley did just six weeks prior. “Give me something stronger.”

Six shots and two beers later, and Bradley was just now starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in his system. He wasn’t planning on drinking much tonight, not when he was so sure he’d actually get the chance to explain himself. But you had been glued to Jake all night, similar to the way you used to be before he introduced you to Bradley and you then became attached to his hip, instead. 

And Bradley just watched. He felt like just another guy at the bar who was jealous of someone else’s relationship. Is this how the other men who frequented the Hard Deck felt when they saw you and Bradley all over each other? 

Was he seriously just another guy?

That’s exactly what he felt like as he sipped on his beer, glaring at the way Jake’s hand slowly but surely inched further down your back. He bit back a disapproving grunt, knowing Jake had to be doing this just to rile him up.

He introduced you as his friend, and now that you weren’t associated with Bradley anymore, Jake was suddenly all over you? 

He felt a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he thought about all the times Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and acted like how he currently is now with you while Bradley was deployed. 

He assumed it had been more than once at this point, because no one seemed too fazed by the pair of you and seemed to have forgotten that it had been Bradley with you for nearly six months straight. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to be jealous, but he was. 

He hated the fact that you could’ve so easily been with him right now since you had made it clear that you were willing to wait for him because you were falling for him.

God, he had never felt this pathetic in all his years of life. He was a mere few weeks away from turning thirty five and he had shut down the one girl he could actually picture himself settling down with, and now he was drinking alone at a bar, staring at said girl as if he didn’t already have his chance with her. 

Nat had shown up at some point and tried to get him to talk to her, but he just gave her short answers and didn’t hold any conversations. She grew even more frustrated with him and ended up leaving her spot next to him so she could throw darts with Fanboy. 

Bradley had just finished off his third beer when he saw Jake lean down to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, making you laugh quietly as you as you playfully pushed him away.

Yeah, he’s seen enough. 

Bradley threw a few twenties on the bar before standing up from the stool, his body swaying at the sudden movement. He stumbled his way over to you, ignoring the flash of dread that covered your face as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “We need to talk,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on you and pulling you away from Jake. 

“Why? Are you looking for another night of just fun?” You asked as you pulled your arm from his grip once you were standing on the deck outside. “That’s all it was, right?”

“That’s not all it was,” he muttered, the cool air not doing much to calm him down like he hoped it would.  

You narrow your eyes at him. “But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He cut you off, instantly regretting his inability to keep calm during a moment like this when he saw the way you flinched back slightly. He breathed out heavily, gently taking your hand in his as he continued, “I know, okay? Trust me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last six weeks.”

He thought since you hadn’t pulled your hand away from his yet, that maybe you were actually willing to give him a chance to explain himself, but your next words proved him wrong, “Wow, really? Me too,” you said sarcastically. “Do you know how humiliating it was for me to explain to Jake that I had told you how I felt, just to have you throw it back at me as if you didn’t care at all? It was mortifying, Bradley, to tell you that I was falling for you and have you act as if it was the worst thing you had ever heard.”

You pulled your hand away from him and he swayed slightly at the fast movement. “I never wanted you to feel that way, Y/n/n,” he tried, but you just placed your hand flat against his chest.

“And you’re drunk,” you give him a firm push, successfully putting a decent amount of space between the two of you. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow, so why do I even bother?”

“Please, Y/n,” he begged, trying to step towards you but you just shook your head. “I missed you so much. I really, really want to talk things through with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” was all you muttered as you walked towards the stairs. “If Jake asks where I am, tell him I went home. I don’t need him worrying about me more than he already is.”

Bradley wanted to spit something out in spite, but held back as he watched your retreating form head off in the direction of your car. With a heavy sigh and another urge to down the first drink he saw, he headed back into the bar. 

As he made his way towards Nat, Jake stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rooster,” he said over the music. “Where did Y/n go? Don’t tell me she’s outside waiting for you after believing whatever bullshit story you told her.”

Bradley muttered something under his breath as he turned to face the man. “She went home,” he replied, shoving Jake’s hand off his shoulder with more force than he needed to. 

“Hey, man, don’t get mad at me,” Jake said with an eye roll. “I’m the one who looked after her while you were away. I’m the one who made her smile again when she came back from dropping you off in tears.”

Bradley felt his skin heating up, not wanting to talk to the man anymore, and especially not about you. “Jake,” he warned. “Don’t.”

But Jake only laughed. “Don’t what, Rooster? What?” He asked with a certain hostility to his voice. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know I practically pushed her into your arms and had to watch as she got her heart broken? You might not be her friend, Bradshaw, but I am. And you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here tonight and asking to speak with her.”

Taking another deep breath, Bradley tried to ignore all the eyes that were beginning to stare at him as the two aviators glared at each other. “I’m serious, Hangman, lay off,” 

You were right, he was drunk and not in the right state of mind to think rationally at this point. He needed to leave now before he did something he regretted. Before he did something that would further fuel your distaste for him.

“I don’t think I will,” Jake continued to push him. “See, you can be an dick to me all you want, but being a dick to Y/n is where I have a problem. She might want to forget it ever happened, but I won’t let you forget just how nice of a girl you let slip away. Truthfully, you never deserved her, and I’m mad at myself for introducing her to you, seeing how it worked out so well.”

“Enough,” Bradley nearly yelled, noticing that someone had stopped the music and that most of the patrons had gathered around at this point, including Nat, who gave him a look of warning. “Back off, Seresin, I mean it.”

He went to turn away, but Jake had other plans. “Or what? You gonna publicly humiliate me, too? Or is that just something you like to do to Y/n-” Bradley didn’t hear the rest as he quickly turned back around and punched Jake square in the nose. 

Jake stumbled back while Nat rushed forward to pull on Bradley’s arm. “Jesus, Bradley, are you crazy?!” She asked as she turned him to face her, but as soon as he took his eyes off Jake, the blond swung back and knocked him back a few feet.

Nat’s grip on Bradley loosened as he stumbled back, his hand reaching up to grip the side of his face as his head began to spin. 

Fanboy and Coyote held Jake back while Nat grabbed Bradley again. Penny rushed in and stood between the men with angry eyes and a bite to her tone. “Both of you, out. Now,” she said in a voice that left no room for arguments. 

Jake just glared at Bradley as he left the Hard Deck, Fanboy following quickly after him. 

Nat wrapped her arm around her best friend’s middle as she guided him out to the parking lot. “You’re wasted, Bradley,” she scolded as she led him over to her car. 

He narrowed his eyes, still holding his face with one hand while his other gripped her shoulder. “Where are we going? I didn’t park over here,” he mumbled and heard her scoff in response. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let you drive home after all this, did you?”

Bradley stopped, making her stop as well as he turned to give her an annoyed look. “I am not leaving my Bronco here overnight,” he stated and she rolled her eyes, holding out her free hand. 

“Fine,” she grunted. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”

Bradley did as he was told, placing the keys in her hand as he asked, “What about your car?”

“I’ll just crash at your place tonight and you can drive me home in the morning before work so I can change. I’ll pick up my car later,” she mumbled, pulling the passenger door open for him but leaving him to get himself in the car as she made her way to the driver’s side. 

After he hoisted himself into the car, Bradley rested his head against the window, the cool glass soothing the burn he felt on the right side of his face.

As Nat started the Bronco and set off in the direction of his house, she let the tense atmosphere grow thicker and thicker until she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “What were you thinking? Going off on Hangman like that? You know how protective he is over her, there was no way you were winning that one,”

Bradley just shrugged, his eyes feeling heavy as he stared out the dark window. “I miss her, Nat,” he murmured. “I’m in love with her.”

Nat looked over at him in surprise. She knew he felt strongly about you, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he loved you, but to witness him finally admit it to himself was a bit shocking. “Have you told her that?” She asked, lowering her voice as she realized he was letting himself be vulnerable with her. 

“I wanted to, as soon as I got there,” he lifted his head and sat up a bit straighter, despite his body begging him to let it rest. “I was going to, but she was with Jake. She looked happy. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

Nat sighed heavily. “So make her talk to you,”

“I tried,” he rasped, his throat dry and his face sore. He made a mental note to never take the first swing at Jake Seresin ever again. “I tried to explain myself, but she just wanted to leave at that point.”

“Well, obviously,” Nat muttered, pulling onto his street. “You got drunk and couldn’t keep your eyes off her all night. She probably thought you just wanted to sleep with her again.”

When she pulled into his driveway, she turned off the car and moved so she was facing him. He looked back at her with tired eyes and a red cheek. “I want to be with her, Nat. I want us to be together,”

Her eyes stared into his for a few seconds before she sighed and pulled out the keys. “So tell her that. Sober, this time. Tell her everything, and don’t let her leave without her knowing how you really feel. I bet she still feels the same way,”

Bradley scoffed as he blindly reached for the handle. “Right,” he mumbled as he got out of the car. “I’m sure she’s still in love with the guy who walked away after she gave him her heart, and then that same guy gave her every mixed signal in return.”

Nat rolled her eyes as she got out of the car as well and helped him into the house. She led him down the hall to his room, where she pushed him down onto his covers and lifted his legs so he was laying down. “You need to tell her, Bradley,” she said quietly as she pulled his boots off and dropped them to the floor. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, alright? Everyone has. If you could just admit your feelings to one another, you could be great together.”

Bradley looked at his best friend with hooded eyes, completely vulnerable as he wore his heart on his sleeve. “What if she doesn’t want me back?” He asked in defeat, not wanting to think about the possibility that he had truly blown his one shot with you. “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Nat stared down at him as she sat next to him, trying to think of what to say that would make him feel even a little bit better. “Then at least you’ll know,” she offered, watching the way his shoulders dropped in dread. “And I’ll be right here, scolding you for letting her get away, but also applauding you for not going down without a fight.”

She leaned forward and kissed the mark on his face from Jake’s fist. 

“Literally,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh as he watched her stand up and turn off the lights before disappearing down the hall towards the guest room. 

She was right, like always. 

He needed to tell you how he felt, he needed to tell you what he should’ve told you that day on the dock.

But most of all, he just needed you. 

-

Bradley was met with a bruised cheek when he was finally able to pull himself out of bed the next morning. His head was pounding and his throat was dry, making him think back to his college days where he would drink into the early hours of the morning and wake up with countless hangovers. 

He felt awful, similar to how he felt back when he was a twenty year old frat boy who had no idea what to do with his life. 

Waking up in his own bed without you felt foreign. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with you in his arms and waking up with you, he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

For what felt like the millionth time, Bradley wished his parents were here. He wanted to be able to confide in his mom, and be chewed out by his dad, then watch his mom chew out his dad for chewing him out. 

He knew that if they were still here, he wouldn’t be in this situation because both his mom and his dad would’ve called him out for stringing you along like he did, way before he even realized his true feelings for you.

Since he had fallen asleep on top of the covers, he didn’t need to worry about making the bed. He left it the way you had neatly made it up the day you drove him to the carrier ship, numbly pulling on his work clothing before grabbing his phone. Nat had thankfully put it on charge, so he had a full battery to go into work with. 

When he made his way to the kitchen, he found his best friend sitting at the island, a coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. She gave him a quick wave as she slowly slid the second coffee mug across the counter. “Drink up, Roozie,” she said as she finished her toast, gathering up all the crumbs in her palm before brushing them off in the sink. 

Bradley grunted as he sipped on the coffee, his head still pounding. “Think I’m going to need more than one of these to get me through today,” he muttered, eyeing Nat as she wandered around his house in the clothing she wore last night. “I have some clothes you could wear, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Save that offer for when you win Y/n back and she raids your closet again,” she winked, making him groan quietly at the image of you wearing his clothes. “I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, here, but when she wore your shirt at the Hard Deck the day before your deployment? I can’t believe you didn’t make things official right then and there.”

Bradley finished his coffee, setting the mug down in the crumb-littered sink as he turned to face her. “Don’t remind me,” 

She held her hands up. “Right, sorry,” she said before grabbing her phone from off the counter. “Anyway, we should get going. The sooner you’re done with work, the sooner you can work on getting your girlfriend back.”

She was testing him, but he just shook his head, not bothering to correct her as he grabbed his keys from where she threw them onto the table beside the door last night. 

At work, Bradley laid low for a while, only talking to those who talked to him, and avoiding Jake like the plague. He was doing a pretty decent job, until he ran into him in the cafeteria. 

Jake was sporting a bruised nose, and Bradley wished he could find joy in the fact that he did that, but he knew that when you saw it, you’d be even more pissed with him than you already are. 

Bradley also knew he looked worse, but that was only because he had thrown the first punch. Just another thing that was entirely his fault. 

He didn’t say anything to Jake as he walked past him and ended up leaving the cafeteria altogether, pulling his phone out on his way to the tarmac. He clicked on your contact and brought the phone up to his ear before he could talk himself out of it. 

Really, he was embarrassed about how he acted last night, but he also wanted to forget about it all and get you back. If that meant owning up to his dumb actions from the previous evening, then so be it. 

He braced himself against the side of the building by placing his palm flat against the wall, his grip on his phone tightening the longer he was met with the obnoxious ringing sound.

Just as he was about to hang up and call again, you answered with a sharp, “What?” 

Though your voice wasn’t super friendly at the moment, Bradley couldn’t help but let a feeling of hope wash over him because you had actually picked up. Sure, you took your sweet time doing it, but you still answered his call. “Hey, Y/n/n,” he said in a much softer tone than he used last night. “I can’t talk for long because I’m at work, but I just needed to say something.”

You waited a heartbeat or two before replying with a cautious, “Okay? What?” 

He huffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he opened his mouth in an apology, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was an asshole last night, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. You were right, I was drunk and had no business trying to get you to talk with me when I was like that,” he said in one go, stumbling over a few of his words, but continuing nonetheless, “And I’m sorry for what I said to you back on the dock. I didn’t realize it then, but you told me everything I wanted to hear, I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

It was silent on your end for a bit, and he could picture you chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say to him. A few more seconds pass before you finally break the silence. “Well, thanks for apologizing,” your voice was much quieter than before, and you sounded much more willing to actually talk to him. 

And he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to keep you talking to him. “Like I said, I’m at work…but I really want to see you later, explain why I said what I did and how much of a fucking idiot I’ve been, if you’ll let me,” he nearly whispered the last part. “Come over later? Please? I promise, it’s not just me wanting to have fun with you, because that was never all it was for me. I can’t believe I even said that.”

You sighed and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew he deserved, but you surprised him as you asked, “Six, right? That’s when you’re off?”

Bradley pushed himself off the wall and looked around at the empty tarmac before answering, “Yeah, yes,” he quickly spoke. “Six.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your next words making a grin break out on his face. “I’ll be there for seven, maybe seven thirty if I begin to have second thoughts.”

And then you hung up, and Bradley was left standing by himself, smiling like he had just won the lottery, when in reality, he had just won something so much better. 

-

After quickly dropping Nat off at the Hard Deck so she could get her car, Bradley was speeding home in a way that was similar to when he floored it when you informed him you’d see him there yesterday. 

He quickly unlocked the door and stripped on his way to his bathroom for a shower, not wanting the way he had started to sweat after you confirmed that you’d come over later be the first thing you were met with when you arrived. 

He switched his shirt probably around four times before settling on a simple black tee and dark jeans. He paced the length of his living room for nearly twenty minutes before stopping abruptly and pulling out his phone to check the time. 

It was nearing seventy thirty, and Bradley began to think you really were having second thoughts, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it for long before he heard the sounds of knocking coming from his front door. 

He pocketed his phone and made his way to the door within three strides, pulling it open to reveal you in a cute oversized tee that was tucked into your jean shorts. It was similar to the way you looked when he took you to the Hard Deck, and while he knew you thought it was just a casual outfit, Bradley thought you never looked better. 

But then again, he found you hot in any kind of clothing, so he was a bit biased. 

“Hi,” he said when he opened the door, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. 

“Hi,” you said back, hesitantly meeting his eye with a forced smile that faltered when you caught sight of the bruise on his cheek. If you wanted to say anything about it, you held back and he could appreciate your ability to bite your tongue when you needed to. “Sorry, I really didn’t know if I was coming tonight.” You add when he stepped aside and allowed you to enter his house. 

He closed the door behind you, following you into the living room as he shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here,”

You slowly sat down on the couch, awkwardly gazing up at him as if you had no business being there. As if he hadn’t fucked you into the very cushions you were sat on more times than he could count on one hand. As if he hadn’t blown off plans with his friends so he could hold you on this couch while you watched movie after movie instead. 

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say, and Bradley had to look away quickly before you really began to think he just wanted you here so you could get him off. “So….how was your day?”

Had things really become that bad? To the point where that was the only thing you could think of asking him?

“It was fine,” he answered as he moved to sit down next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your thigh and his. You didn’t look uncomfortable yet, so he safely assumed you had no problem with him slightly invading your personal space. “How was yours?”

Oh, yeah. This was bad.

“It was fine,” you repeated his answer, and you quickly realized that as you added, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” someone kill him now. This was not how he wanted to start this night off with you. 

Before he could mentally call himself out on how dumb he was acting, you asked him, “Can I ask what happened to your face?” Your tone held a sliver of humor, a teasing smile on your lips that quickly had the awkward tension begin to dissolve. 

He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, it happened last night,”

You nodded, raising a brow when he didn’t continue. “What, did you run face first into a door or something?”

“No, Jake punched me,” he said and watched the way your small grin dropped and how your eyes widened. You open your mouth in concern, but he quickly added, “After I punched him.” 

Your concerned expression drops even quicker as you break eye contact with him and run your tongue along the underside of your teeth. “Uh,” you refrain from completely losing your cool before you heard what exactly went down. “Why, exactly, did you punch him?”

When you didn’t turn to look at him again, Bradley shrugged. “Because you came with him and not me,” 

That had you turning to look over at him. “What?” You asked in disbelief. “Seriously? You were jealous?”

He sat up a bit straighter as he began to feel like he was being interrogated. “Yeah, I was,” he answered, cutting you off before you could even say anything, “He kept making very valid points to me about how I fucked things up and how I never deserved you in the first place, and he was making too much sense so I punched him.” 

You squinted at him but then suddenly laughed when you realized he was being serious. “Oh, my God, Bradley,” you scolded. “You can’t just go around punching people because they were making too much sense, especially Jake.”

“I was drunk,” he weakly defended himself, but sighed right alongside you when you gave him an unimpressed look. “I know that’s not an excuse.” 

“You’re right,” you agreed, fighting back a dumb grin at the fact that you had actually managed to make him jealous without even trying to. “It’s not.”

Bradley shook his head as he, too, fought off an embarrassed smile. “I was just so unbelievably jealous when I walked in and saw you under his arm, because I knew that could’ve been me had I not turned you down,”

You look away quickly as the memory of that day comes spiraling back. “So…why did you?” You asked quietly as you placed with the silver ring you wore on your right index finger. “Turn me down? Was it really because I’m too young for you? Because I read too much into things?”

“No,” he quickly answered, turning his body towards yours. “God, no, that wasn’t it at all. I was just…an idiot, to put it simply. I was too afraid to give in and admit to myself that I felt the exact same way that you did.”

“But why?” You asked and lifted your gaze to meet his. “Why were you afraid? It’s just me.”

“I know,” he held back on referring to you with one of the many pet names he had given you during the last six months. “And it wasn’t you, I promise. This is all on me and my stupid trust issues and my inability to realize just how good I had it until it was gone…until you were gone.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you process his words. “You could’ve just told me that, instead of making me feel like I was just one big mistake to you,” 

Bradley felt his heart crack at that, a heat pooling in his bones as he realized just how much his words truly affected you. “You are not a mistake,” he said, sounding more serious than he had ever sounded before. “You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and Jake was right, I never deserved to have you in the way I did.”

“Bradley-”

“No, it’s true. We were so fucking good together, and it felt so right with you, and all it took for me to fuck it up was you admiting what we both already knew; that it was so much more than just us hooking up,” he was surprised how easy it was for him to open up to you, seeing as the only other person he could be vulnerable with was Nat, but he knew you wouldn’t make him feel bad for showing you this side of him. “There was something there between us, and there still is for me, and I’m so sorry I let you believe that there wasn’t.”

Your eyes flickered all over his face and you thought back to how differently he looked at you six weeks ago. Back then he looked so cold and came off as arrogant, but now he looked genuine, like he truly meant every word he told you. Maybe that was why you felt yourself beginning to break down the walls you had put up the second he had broken your heart. “So, what do you feel between us now? How do you feel about me?”

When Bradley met your eyes, he saw that same vulnerability you had when you confessed your feelings for him. You were giving him the second chance he had wanted for weeks now, and he would not let you get away again. 

He took your hand in his as his knee brushed yours. “I feel that, given the chance to prove myself to you, we could be just as good together as we were before. No, we could be even better,” he emphasized the last word and watched as the last bit of reluctance faded from your eyes. “And as for how I feel about you? I don’t think I’m falling for you.”

When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, and saw the way your eyes pricked with unshed tears, he quickly moved closer to you. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” he added, “And I have been for half a year now.”

A second or two passes before a big grin spreads across your face, and you reach up with your free hand to grip the side of his face, letting your thumb brush against his scars. “You’re in love with me?” You asked, desperate to know he wasn’t just messing with you in hopes to get you back to how things were before. “You’re really in love with me?”

Bradley just nodded, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand as he said the thing he should’ve a month and a half ago, “I love you,” 

You smile again and refrain from jumping on him right then and there. 

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he adds, looking down at your joined hands and missing the way your brows furrowed in disbelief. “I can wait, I just needed to tell you that-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that leaves you both feeling dizzy. “Are you kidding me?” You against his mouth, removing your hand from his in order to grip the back of his neck. “Of course I love you. I have for months.”

Bradley was barely able to grin back at you before your mouth was covering his once again, and his hands were gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I missed you so much,” he murmured in between kisses. “I regretted what I said the second I saw you crying and I was too far away to do anything about it. It felt like I had left my heart back on that dock with you.”

You push him so he’s sitting back against the couch, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him as you straddle his lap. “So,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, laughing afterwards when he quickly guided you into another one as you pulled away. “You don’t think I’m too young and immature for you?” 

Bradley closed his eyes when he felt your lips latch onto his neck, groaning as you began to suck a mark onto his skin. “Fuck no,” he answered, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your shorts and pulling your hips forward to create the smallest bit of friction. “You’re more mature than most of the people I work with.”

You hum in approval, running your tongue over the fresh mark he would proudly wear at work tomorrow. “And you’re okay with us being in two different places in our lives?”

“I don’t care where we are,” he confirmed, guiding your lips back to his in a bruising kiss. “Just as long as I’m with you.”

“Good answer,” you kiss him again as your fingers begin to work on the zipper of his jeans. 

“Wait,” he reluctantly pulls away from your mouth, his hold on your hips making you halt your mission on his zipper. 

“What’s wrong?” You quickly ask, worried you’d overstepped a boundary without realizing it.

But Bradley just playfully scoffed at you, lifting you up and turning so you were laying against the couch and he was hovering over you. He unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat when he caught sight of the black lace that covered your core from him. “You just told me you love me and gave me a second chance,” he stated as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh. “Nothing could be wrong after that.”

You stifle a quiet laugh, a moan slipping out instead when he placed a kiss to your clothed clit.

His fingers pulled down the lace and dropped the fabric to the floor next to your shorts as he muttered, “It’s been way too long since I tasted you,” before he began to devour you like a starved man. 

He supposed he was as he missed the sweet taste that only belonged to you so much. 

Your head leaned back against the decorative pillow on the armrest of the couch, your hand instinctively going straight to his hair. Bradley groaned against you at the subtle tug he received, growing harder in his jeans as he pulled your legs so they’re resting over his shoulders. 

The vibration had you clenching around nothing, a low whine escaping your parted lips. “Bradley,” you gasped quietly when he nudged your folds apart with his nose before licking a flat strip up the center of you. 

“Say my name again,” he softly demanded, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you even closer to his awaiting tongue. “Who’s making you feel good right now?”

“You,” it came out as a breath when he wrapped his lips around your clit, and you clenched tightly around nothing. “It’s you, Bradley. Fuck.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised and the name had your eyes squeezing shut. “You’re so good for me, taste so fucking good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your body at his sweet but absolutely filthy words. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as you knew it would drive him crazy. “I missed you.”

Like you expected he would, a deep growl once again sent vibrations up your body and once again had you clenching around nothing. “I missed you, too, sweet girl, fuck, did I ever,” he muttered against your throbbing clit, the soft graze of his teeth making your breath hitch in your throat. “I missed you for six weeks straight, missed you when I got home and saw that you had taken out all your things you had in here. I want you to put it all back and never take them out again.”

You whimpered at his words and the possessiveness that laced them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me to move in with you,” you tried to make your voice sound teasing, but you were completely at his mercy right now and not even close to being in control.   

“Good idea,” he replied and your heart skipped a beat at what he was insinuating. You didn’t have time to dwell on what he meant by that before he was continuing, “Move in with me, please?”

Bradley knew he was moving too fast, but he felt as if he had already wasted so much time being away from you the last six weeks, he didn’t want to waste anymore. He needed you in his life, wanted to pick up on your habits and come home to a house full of yours and his things. 

He wanted to share his life with you in all the ways he didn’t before. He wouldn’t fuck this up again, and he wanted you to know just how serious he is about you and how serious he is about starting an official relationship with you.

You could hardly focus on what he was asking you to do. His tongue had slid back down your folds and penetrated you just slightly, your wetness coating the muscle as he lapped at you. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to ask you that while he was currently tongue fucking you, but in all fairness, you were the one who technically brought it up. “Please,” he begged against your heat. “Say you’ll move in with me, spend every night with me in our own bed, in our own house.”

His offer only sounded better and better, almost as good as his mouth felt against your throbbing clit. “Bradley,” 

“We’d be together everyday,” he rasped and you practically came from just his promises. When his mouth was back on you a second later, he grinned at the extra wetness he felt and took pride in the way he got you off at the idea of moving in together. He licked you clean before moving back up your body and hovering over you. “It could be like this every night.”

You moan quietly when he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. 

He ended it all too quickly as he slowly licked his lips that still tasted like you before asking, “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you were finally able to properly answer him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer to you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

You share a couple more heated kisses before you pull away and gaze up at him with an unreadable emotion swimming in your eyes. Bradley caught on to the sudden change, and he reached his hand up to caress the side of your face. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you huff quietly and gently bump your nose against his. “Nothing,” you answer. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…This is all I’ve ever wanted for months. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.”

Bradley physically felt his heart skip a beat as he thought about all the pain he had put you through, and not even as recent as six weeks ago. He had unknowingly strung you along, played with your heart and allowed you to think this whole thing was purely sexual. 

He needed to assure you that this is real, that his feelings for you are real and genuine. “Baby,” he murmured, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly ground his hips against yours, the cool metal of his zipper rubbing against your pulsing core making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. “It’s happening. You and me, us. I love you and I’m so sorry for fucking things up so badly between us.”

You tug at the fabric of his shirt and give him a small smile, brushing your lips against his. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “We have each other now, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed and that was all you needed to hear before your shaking hands were pulling the black fabric off his upper body. 

The sight of his toned chest and abs on full display had you holding back a moan, your lip getting caught between your teeth as your eyes raked over his damn near flawless body. 

Bradley’s hand that was on your face moved so his thumb was slipping past your lips, and he watched with a slack jaw as you sucked it in deeper, your tongue running along the underside of it. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he really didn’t understand how a guy like him ended up with a girl like you, but he was done questioning it as you clearly felt the exact same way about him. You love him, and that’s all he needed to know.

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” you say as you press your lips to the skin of his neck. “You’re so attractive, Bradley, you could get me off with just a look.” Then you were sucking his skin, similar to the way you were sucking his thumb just a few seconds earlier. 

He grunted at the stinging sensation of the hickey you left on his neck, right next to the other one from earlier in the night. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bra being pulled from your body quickly after. “Mark me up, show everyone that I belong to you.”

You gasp out in need, pulling his mouth back to yours as your hands frantically push down his jeans and boxer briefs. “Mine,” you whimper against his lips, feeling him hum in confirmation. 

“Yours, baby,” he replied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he teased your soaking entrance. “All yours.”

Then he was pushing into you. Your walls stretched around him and took him in perfectly, making his head fall against your shoulder as he got used to the feeling of you around him again after so long. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out only halfway before burying himself deep within you once again. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

His words release more butterflies all over your body and you clench around him, your greedy walls sucking him in even deeper. “Go slow,” you request in a quiet voice, making him lift his head to meet your eyes. 

Really, he was fine with fucking you into the cushion with enough force to break the springs, and he was also fine with loving your body with his own. “You want me to go slow?” He asked as he pulled out all the way then sunk right back in. “Fuck you nice and slow, like this?”

When he repeated the movement a couple times, you nod quickly and reach your hands up so they’re in his hair. “Yeah,” you breathe out, connecting your lips in a barely-there kiss before saying, “Just like that. I want to feel every inch of you in me.”

Bradley’s hips stuttered at that, breaking the slow pace for a quick second as he placed his forearm against the cushion next to your head. “Fuck, baby, you can’t say things like that and expect me to not fuck you hard into this couch.” 

You laughed quietly, and the sound only spurred him on as he set the slow pace once again. “You need to gain some self control, Bradley,” you purred into his ear and he was once again refraining from absolutely destroying your core. 

“I can’t,” he said as he began to place kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. “Not when I have you wrapped around me, not when you’re taking me so well. Fuck, look at you.”

You give him a teasing smile that fades quickly when he sucks the skin of your throat. After half a year with him, you’ve noticed he seems to have a favorite spot on your neck where he likes to kiss you and leave physical proof of his mouth being there. 

The last time you felt his lips on that spot was when he got you off so good before taking you to the Hard Deck, where you showed off the hickey he left on you. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he muttered, mostly to himself as he gazed down at your saliva coated skin. “After everything, after I fucked things up, you’re still mine.”

You hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing him closer to you, making him reach even deeper within you. “I always was yours,” you confessed and felt the way his grip tightened on you. 

“But,” he grunted as his hips rocked into yours in a slow rhythm, that sick feeling of jealousy creeping back into him, despite him being very aware of his current position of being buried within you. “You were with Jake last night-”

“But my heart was always with you,” you cut him off and noticed the way he seemed to relax at your words. “My heart was still yours, even after you broke it.” You give him a teasing grin in hopes he wouldn’t take it too hard, but this was Bradley, and he was a pretty emotional guy when it came down to certain things.

While you had given him all the reassurance he needed, he was still feeling so awful for how he treated you, and he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted you to forget about it, forget that dumb side of him who didn’t understand what he was saying. 

“I’m not going to do that ever again,” he promised, jerking his hips a bit roughly but not picking up the pace. “I’m going to treat you so well, be so good to you all the time. You’re going to grow so fucking sick of me, I swear.”

You would’ve laughed, but the sharp snaps of his thrusts had you getting lost in the feeling of him. “‘S all I’ve wanted,” you whimpered when he reached one hand down to rub circles on your still sensitive clit. 

It throbbed against the pad of his middle finger in time with the way your walls pulsed around him. He was driving into you so slowly, you felt every single inch of him as he invaded your warm and inviting core. 

You were so used to the rough, fast paced sex with him in the past, but this was different. Back then, he was just trying to get you off in the ways he knew you liked, and desperately tried to ignore the unspoken words between the two of you.

He tried to fuck away his true feelings for you, hoping that the way his heart would flip at your sweet sounds and how his whole body fit so perfectly against your own was just him getting caught up in the moment. 

He was so glad he was wrong and finally allowed himself to face reality. 

“You’re all I want, too,” he struggled to say as you clenched tightly around him. “I don’t know why I even bothered trying to deny it…fuck, you’re so tight.”

You smirk to yourself at his struggle to keep control of the slow drag of his hips. “Only for you,” you fed into his possessiveness over you, and raked your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he hissed at the sting, the light scratches on his skin feeling better than he ever thought was possible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, sweet girl. I won’t fuck this up again.”

You press your lips to his as you feel the coil in your abdomen begin to unravel. “‘M gonna come again,” you informed him against his mouth, fueling him to pick the pace up just slightly as he continued with his sharp thrusts. 

“I want you to so badly,” a deep grunt left his lip as he felt the beginning of your orgasm start to coat him. “Just like that, baby. Come for me, I want to feel it all over me. I want it to be messy.”

Your mouth breaks away from his in order for you to be able to let out a loud moan, followed by a call of his name as your release surged through you. With a gentle hand pressed to his face, your thumb brushing against the bruise he received last night, you came hard around him.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped next to your ear, using your willing core to get himself there, as well. “You look so fucking hot when you come for me.”

Whimpering at the sensitivity, you push him closer with your heel against his back. “Wanna feel you, too,” you mumbled, helplessly taking each thrust he gave as you wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he, too, got off. “I want it in me.”

Bradley’s jaw locked at that, his neck straining as he gave two more quick thrusts before stilling. You were rewarded with a deep, throaty groan as he spilled his seed into you, and you took every single drop.

Your walls, seemingly desperate to feel him breed them once again, gripped him tightly when he lazily started to rock his hips into yours again. The both of you were far too sensitive to go for round two right now, so he was just riding your highs for as long as he could. 

You gently massaged his scalp, his head undoubtedly sore from your relentless tugs on his hair. Bradley was actually excited to deal with the brief headache that would come from it. He was even more excited to see the scratches on his back tomorrow morning, and he was excited to take you to the Hard Deck on Friday night and officially make it known to everyone there that you are his and he is yours. 

Granted, most of the people there already assumed that, but it would still feel great to finally go public with you. 

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and got into a more comfortable position with you on the couch. He placed a few kisses to the top of your head as you basked in the afterglow, finally feeling truly happy for the first time in over a month. “I love you,” he had somehow managed to win you back, and he would make damn sure he keeps his promise of never breaking your heart again. “Every single part of you.”

You lean up and press a kiss to the mark on his cheek, making a mental note to give Jake a hard time about using his fists instead of walking away. You were still grateful that he was so protective over you, though, so you wouldn’t be too serious about it. “I love you, too, Bradley,” you say back. “I always have.”

-

@everythingmarveltopgun

@shara-ne

@iheqrtaustin

@amiets2

@magical-spit

reassuring them when they’re anxious and any character you want! ily

prompt - "reassuring them when they're anxious"

pairing - bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female reader

cw - mentions/descriptions of anxiety

a/n - ily nonnie! thank you for requesting!! i chose bradley for this, i hope you enjoy!

Bradley knows.

He knows before you even start to make comments about work being a pain or being more tired than usual.

He’s so attuned to your habits and mannerisms he can tell when you’re tired and close to burn out.

He’s thankful for the weekend and the early finish on this Friday, so that he gets home before you. While you and he usually trade off chores around the house, he takes care of all your tasks so that you can come home and relax.

And when you do arrive home, much later than usual, he’s on the couch, perked up when he realizes you’re back.

“It’s Friday, right?” You wonder from the front door, slipping out of our heels and tossing your purse aside.

“Yeah, baby, it’s Friday.” He says, brows furrowing.

You wobble into the living room, stopping to rub at each foot.

“You tired honey?” He wonders gently. “You had a long day.”

You nod, feeling anxiety bubble in your chest. Your throat feels tight. Although its Friday, all you can think about is all the work you have waiting for you when you get back to your desk on Monday.

He pulls you into his chest where you rest your cheek, attempting to ground yourself with the soft feeling of his shirt and the familiar scent of his cologne.

“How was your day?” You murmur into his chest. He feels your words reverberate into his skin, and he sweeps his hand down the back of your head.

“It was fine baby.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not worried about it right now, would rather focus on you.”

You pull away with a frown. “I’m fine Bradley.”

He nods, although he doesn’t agree. “Laid out my t-shirt and your sweats on the bed. They’re nice and clean if you wanna go change into them, sweet girl.”

You lower lip trembles but you press your teeth into it to stop it. “Thank you.” You croak.

You’re fully crying when you come out, tears spilling onto his faded Navy shirt.

“What happened sweetheart?” He rushes to you, hands cupping your cheeks.

“Nothing, I just,” You suck in a shaky breath. “I’m so anxious about the project at work and I come home and you’re just being so sweet to me. Feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Hey,” he says seriously, taking your chin gently between his index finger and thumb. “You always deserve to be treated well, honey, and if I’m not always being sweet to you, you can slap me upside the head.”

His attempt of humor elicits a giggle from you, and he smiles. He means what he said though.

“I ordered us dinner from your favorite place.” He starts. “I got your show queued up, so all you need to do is sit down and relax. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod, climbing into his lap after he sits on the couch. You press your ear to his chest, the steady beating of his heart calming you even further. When Bradley notices you trying to even your breaths, he mutes the television, and uses one of his hands to gently press to your ear.

“Breathe with me, honey.” He instructs, taking slow and exaggerated breaths. After a few quiet moments, your breathing has evened out and you look up at him with a small smile.

“Thank you, Bradley.” You look into his warm eyes. “I love you, a lot.” You whisper, words dripping in sincerity.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

You nuzzle back into his chest, exhaustion suddenly overtaking you.

“My smart girl, I’m so proud of you.” You hear him say before you comfortably doze off.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

finally took the time to binge read this and HOLY SHIT?.?.?.?. so incredibly well written. the way bradley was trying to be so careful not to overstep bug’s boundaries and independence but also wanting to keep her safe and happy :(

bravo in every way; i have found a new comfort series 🥺

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

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

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

— Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

story complete as of November 5, 2023

—

Main Masterlist

Banner by the one and only @mak-32🖤

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

this hit a little too close to home and has me in tears at my work desk.

“I love you and the little girl you used to be too.”

actually broke me. thank you for writing this op, i appreciate it more than words can express 🫂

Square Peg, Round Hole

Summary: You love Bradley Bradshaw. He really is like a dream. You just wish that your parents didn't love him as much as you do.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Word count: 2k

AO3 link

Warnings: complicated parental relationship, childhood trauma, venting, healthy relationship, bad jokes, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any.

Authors note: Did this scene in The Good Place ever make you cry? Or have your parents ever liked your partner more than you? If so, this fic goes out to you. <3

"Was I too much with your parents again?" He asks you. It's only moments after he passed you a milkshake and eased his foot off the break. The Bronco creeps forward out of the drive-thru, and Bradley checks both ways before turning back on the road home. You sip your milkshake and consider his words carefully. 

It was one of those things. It didn't bother you…not really, but then again, maybe it did. You had always felt that you weren't really meant to be your parents' kid. And you loved your parents, of course you did, but it never really fit not the way it was supposed to. And your parents were bursting at the seams for parental love. You just weren't really the right shape for it. On the other hand, Bradley Bradshaw was the perfect shape; your parents adored him, and he loved them right back. The only reason Sunday brunch had started as a tradition was because of Bradley willing it into existence. You think your parents were more into Bradley than flies were with honey. They just clicked and latched on to Bradley's natural charisma and bright personality. 

It was a beautiful thing for you to think about sometimes. How, at least, you could bring them together. It wasn't your purpose to be your parents' perfect kid. It was your destiny to unite this lonely man with a family, though. It's hard to describe. It's not like you saw Bradley in any shape or form, your brother. However, you knew that if they felt they could get away with it, your parents would choose Bradley over you if you ever broke up. 

"No." It's not until you say it that you realize it's true. "No, you've made me love my parents again."

"What is it then?" He asks. 

"It's hard sometimes to see you with them. See how they are with you," You laugh and put your milkshake down in the free drink holder next to Bradley's own. "I mean, my dad watched four documentaries on the Navy and listens to a podcast about the history of TOP GUN while he drives to work. Then, my mom, she tells you to eat more! She fucking glows when you agree to play that cheesy keyboard they bought me in high school. The one that I never learned to play." You're quiet for a moment then, spinning your ring around your finger, fiddling with it. You hope the action will put you at ease, but it's primarily unsuccessful. You want to try to explain yourself more, and the hurt aching in your chest. However, the words don't come, forcing you to sit there with it. 

"I'm sorry," Bradley eventually says. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I think you are the most amazing man on the planet," You immediately tell him, not wanting Bradley to get how you were feeling all twisted in his own head. 

"I'm not sorry for my actions. I'm sorry for you, baby. I'm sorry for the hurt you feel," He amends in a soft, gentle tone.

"Don't be sorry for me, Bradley. I have a happier family than I ever dreamed about in my adult life." Despite your brave words, a few tears burst from your eyes. You quickly wipe them away, drying your hands on your side. It feels like when you forget to grab a napkin for the movie theater popcorn, not really gone, mostly just smudged. 

"The way they are with you made me realize I was wrong. I think that's my big issue. I always thought they just weren't built to be parents. They weren't meant to love someone else like that. So, it wasn't that they couldn't change or they didn't have the capacity to love me. It's that I wasn't ever good enough for them."

Bradley's heart fucking broke hearing your confession. It broke into a hundred more pieces than he thought it could. He loved your parents and couldn't conceptualize any parents making you feel the way you did. His own parents had loved him wholeheartedly and openly right up until the moment they took their last breaths. They were never shy about it either, ensuring he knew they adored him. He never questioned that he was loved. Having made it one of his life missions to love you, he never wanted to see you feel anything less than that. Yet, you could tell the idea of it all made him uncomfortable. 

"So, I'm not mad at you. I'm not even mad at them because they are so happy. I love seeing them so happy, and I love seeing you so happy. All of that makes me happy. I'm not actually mad at myself, but maybe I'm mad at the little girl inside me. Or maybe she's mad at me. But either way, one of us, or both of us. Me. I wasn't enough for them to love me like that, and I never will be." Abandoning your ring, you clench your hands over your knees hard. The winded explanation made your emotions regarding the situation bubble hotly in you as more tears threatened to spill. You stop looking out the window and decide that Bradley's broad form is much better at capturing your attention.

  "First," Bradley starts, slowly drawing out the word, "I want to say I think you are enough, and I love you so much. Next, will you hold my hand?" Bradley's primary love language was physical touch. He was always touch starved. Any time he was with you, he needed to touch you somehow, even if it was just the edge of your foot pressed into his calf. Sometimes he twisted his pinky with yours or would stroke an ankle on the couch when your feet were in his lap. You knew he needed to touch you to feel reassured. You took his hand then, slotting your fingers together. You could see him visibly relax and shift at your touch like it helped pull him back from an edge.

"Thank you," you whisper in a watery voice. 

"How can I support you right now, my love? Would you like me to listen, or do you want a solution? Or I can call your parents and tell them off." Bradley's deep timber tells you just how serious and involved he is in this conversation despite driving. Fuck, you loved how good Bradley was at communicating. You were worried about being with him at first. Military men don't really have the best reputations, but he was so mature and so good to you. You were unreasonably in love with him, it was consuming, but that wasn't something you were upset about. 

"Can you listen a little more?" You ask. 

"Of course, baby. Why do you think these ears are so big? It's to hear you better." 

"Bradley," you whine with a half laugh. Bradley's mouth spreads into a wide grin, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. Only when his thumb starts tracing soothing circles into your skin do you find the energy to speak again. "When I was growing up, they weren't how they are now. And every time we see them, part of me is always prepared for how they used to be. For them to be cold and mean, or indifferent, or criticizing, or any of the other things that made me feel so much less than. I wish I could just accept that they had changed, but I don't think I'll ever really believe that, no matter how much time has passed. And then it's so frustrating that I'm caught up on this. I'm an adult! So, why do they have this grip on me? I just want to be free. I want to be done with this hurt."

"There is nothing wrong with you feeling this way. That little girl in you that they hurt, that they still hurt. She is allowed to have her feelings hurt, but I don't think that you should ignore her and how she feels like they did."

"I don't know how to do that, Bradley. I can't just be having a breakdown all the time."

"Well, we can start by making sure you feel safe." He pulls the Bronco into the driveway and puts it in park. As soon as he does, he turns to give you his full attention. 

"We are home, and you're safe. You are also so loved. I love you and the little girl you used to be too. I know I can't fix this hurt for you, but I want to see you happy, and I want to help in any way I can. Okay?"  Bradley's big eyes sparkle with emotion, and you are briefly concerned that he might cry too. When you give him a small nod he continues, "Well, we can talk about this more whenever ready, and we can work through it however you need." 

"You don't have to take care of me, Bradley."

"I want to," He says earnestly. "I maybe even need to sometimes. So, if you'll let me when you need that or want that, I'd love to take care of you. I think you don't let me do enough."

You take a deep, slow breath to steady yourself. Bradley's face is serious but open. His lips pull taught under his mustache, with his warm eyes still a little misty. Leaning forward, you connect your lips with his. It doesn't even take a moment for Bradley's lips to move with yours softly. The gentle comfort of his lips makes you feel a little warm and gooey. The tears dripping off your face. The storm cloud hovering over you doesn't disappear, but the rain lets up a little, and you feel like you can breathe right again. Pulling away from Bradley, you give him a weak smile before requesting, "Please make me laugh."

"Yes, Ma'am. I think that's something I can do." He says after leaning over the console to peck your lips one more time. "What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?" 

"What?" 

"Sofishticated."

The terrible joke does get a small snort out of you, and you roll your eyes at him. "You could have done better than that."

"I will have you know I have been working on that joke for weeks and was saving it for our aquarium date." That gets another chuckle out of you, and a wide triumphant grin spreads across Bradley's face. However, it fades a bit as he cups your face and swipes away the remaining tears off your cheek. "Can I actually say something more?"

"Yes, of course," you answer.  

"I'm sorry I don't have parents to give you and make you feel jealous, baby." He didn't say it in a condescending way. He was genuine in his want. You knew that if Nick and Carole were still alive, he would wish you were getting the mountains of love they would have showered on you.

"I'm not trying to make anything about your parents about me," you tell him quickly.

"You aren't," he reassures you. "They would have loved you, though."

"Thank you, Bradley. Now can we drink milkshakes and watch our show?" 

"Absolutely, baby," He says as he reluctantly lets go of your hand. Immediately grabbing it again when you two are out of the car and walking inside. 

"You know, I do have Mav, and you are more than welcome to him." 

"Maverick!?" You giggle at the very idea of Bradley's charming uncle and pseudo-father spending time with you. 

"I promise, he is just waiting to get rid of me. And he already likes you more."

"One, Mav loves you. And two, no one could want to get rid of you, Bradley,” you protest.

"Are you sure about that?" He asks.

"Yes, I'm very sure because I want to keep you forever."

"Yours forever? I like the sound of that."

"Me too," you tell him squeezing his hand before letting go to unlock the door. Bradley's free arm wraps around your waist, and he starts peppering your neck with tickling kisses, not caring how much harder it makes for you to get the door open. 

this was so so beautiful i had to read it thrice over. the description of the emotions felt was SO scenic and gut wrenching at the same time. bradley emulates gentle love and you captured it perfectly here. truly one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of writing i’ve read in a while 🥺

𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 | 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

hello, all. this came out of my hands as i was sat on the train home from uni. is this my love letter to bradley, and to this fandom? maybe so. it's not good, but it's what came out 🖤

authors note: i do not consent to having my work distributed anywhere other than on my blog. i do not consent to having it translated nor altered in any way.

tagging people i love and cherish deeply from this fandom: @lewmagoo @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @sebsxphia @theharddeck @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @sugarcoated-lame @bradshawsbaby and so many more. thank you so much for your love, your patience, and for your creativity - you're all incredible!

“hi…” 

silence. the long, dreadful silence filled the void that was an answering machine. it’s up to you to fill the silence… the void. 

“i–” the sentence trails off, vocal chords failing to utter the sounds without a telling choke or break. 

for all the good days, all the days you feel strong, you feel confident and like you’re able to do this - there are days like these. and they’re growing more frequent. for the days you help others, for the days you look out for the people you love, for Penny, for Mav, Amelia… Phoenix, even Jake… for all the times you tell yourself you can do this.

there are days when you can’t. days where… you don’t want to be strong. where the solemnity of a silent house caves in on you, the loudness of your thoughts ever more noticeable amongst a barren house. days like today.

you try again.

“i miss you, bradley,” you manage the words, but at his name– it all roars and tears through your chest. it hurts, it feels as if the very core of your soul is being teared at by dark vicious claws, scratching, breaking, wounding. it starts off as a violent, swift and sudden pain, like a whip lashing through your chest - before it dulls into an unbearable throbbing pain that pulses as your breaths shorten.

“i need you–” now, there really is no stopping the treacherous sobs, the soft wails or whimpers that you had kept close to your chest for so long. all the voicemails left before this one will surely feel hollowhearted. and it pains you to unburden yourself like this…

but it’s true. you need him, you miss him. miss the security he brings, the warmth and comfort, the laughter and the completely effortless and unconditional way he loves. 

bradley is amber, he is the roaring warmth of a fireside in an otherwise cold and bleak environment. he is the gold of the morning sun, exciting and hopeful for what the day will bring. he is the orange and red glow of the growing dusk, soft, gentle and promising of a safe haven to lay your head to rest. 

he is the person who sees you. hears you, feels you and touches you in every way those words can be interpreted. never have you felt able to just be as much as you do with him. 

“please, i can’t– i can’t do this without you anymore,” you whimper softly into the void. his gentle timbre that greeted your voice message all too familiar to your ears.

and then, the realization, the overwhelming fact that you’ve been trying desperately to choke down ever since–

“i don’t want to do this without you anymore!” 

this sentence is what finally makes the rubber band snap, viciously and harsh it scatters the beads you had tread so carefully onto it with the realization that you can’t do this. this sentence is a shameful one, one that is selfish and cruel and wholly unfair. because you said you would. said you could handle this. promised, wholeheartedly, that you would be alright. 

those treacherous tears that wetted your cheeks burned furiously behind closed lids. closed lids behind which visions of bradley’s warm, broad chest invited you to rest upon, his very breaths and heartbeat enough to soothe and comfort. 

what if you were to lose that? the pain of losing… your person, it felt almost like it was too much to bear. but was this… this preferable then? the agony of loneliness, of surviving, of getting by, without him? you weren’t all so sure anymore. 

leaving this voice message was meaningless. it wouldn’t provide any comfort, wouldn’t make your thoughts un-fog nor solve the way your feelings battled and roared within you. 

so you hung up. 

it would surely get better tomorrow.

only, the tomorrows hadn’t been better. not for a while now. so, you let yourself cry. let yourself mourn, let yourself finally think the thoughts that scared you more than anything. 

would you be alone? 

how would you go on?

the thing about time, is that no matter what you do it can shape and form around you without your consent. what felt like an hour could be a second, and a second could stretch into eons of time. a vast timeless space. that’s how it felt, laying crumbled on the livingroom floor. it didn’t matter, not really. though, from the way you felt when you slumbered and woke sporadically, you may as well have been there for hours, days? no, surely not…

the vibration of your phone, usually unnoticeable rang through the entirety of the house like a gunshot. your body jolted and scrambled to pick up the almost dead phone. oh.

that face. it could bring tears to your eyes all over again.

“sugar?” 

you bit your lip so hard you imagined it could start bleeding at any second. a harsh intake of air was the only thing you could muster up. 

“oh, little love…” tears poured freely again. and you clutched your phone to your ear, curling in on yourself, as if his voice alone could be placed as a balm over your hurting soul. 

“please, darling… can you talk to me?” bradley coaxed, his voice soft, gentle, but filled with a hint of fear. 

“bradley,” was the whimpered reply he got, a reply that had bradley clutching at the khaki fabric over his chest. 

“i’m here, sugar,” he murmured soothingly, eyes clenched shut momentarily at the hurt he heard in your voice. 

“but you’re not!” you whimpered softly, selfishly. you knew it was. selfish. egotistical. you signed up for this. 

“i know, darling. soon. i–” he cleared his throat “i’m coming home.” you knew he might be lying. might be trying, to the best of his might, to settle you. to soothe the eruption. 

“will you?” your voice was weak, and suddenly you wondered if it hadn’t been days since you fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. how could you lose it like this? 

“yes, darling,” 

“do you promise?” 

as the door swung open, the sound of booted steps reached your ears. 

“i promise, little love” bradley murmured into your ear as his strong arms wrapped around your frame. as if it were nothing, bradley’s strong arms cradled you close to his chest as he lifted you into his lap on your shared sofa, tucking your face into his neck as you weeped. 

“i’m here, dove.. it’s alright, i’m home. i’m not leaving,” your whole body sagged helplessly against his chest.

thump thump. thump thump. thump thump. 

alive. breathing. speaking. touching. you whimpered softly and burrowed closer to what little of his tan skin was exposed to you, inhaling him. 

“i’m sorry,” you sobbed, clutching at his uniform. at the very thing he was, he was not even yours. he was… the property of the government. he loved this, loved flying, you knew that. 

“don’t you dare say that you are sorry for loving me, for missing me, for enduring loneliness that i could not comprehend navigating.” bradley’s voice was rough, gritted, his arms encircling your waist ever closer, as if holding you harder would keep you together. 

“i love you,” he was desperate. desperate to have you know, to please not leave him here. he needed you too. 

“bradley,” you sighed, your breath stuttering slightly as it was prone to do after crying, after an eruption of emotion. 

“i’ve been offered a position.” he cut you off, his words caressing your neck as he burrowed his nose into your hair. furrowing your brows you only slowly let your fingers sneak into the soft curls on his hair, the softness of it a gentle reminder that he was real. 

silence. another silence. 

“i don’t want to leave.” he confessed. in that confession lay more weight than he let on. it was the confession of a man weary and tired, of a boy scared… scared to death of losing what he loved most dear. 

“i don’t want you to leave,” your confession was filled with unsaid fears. anxieties and fears that had yet to come to pass, but that felt like they were on the precipice of becoming actualized. 

“which is why i won’t. not anymore.” leaving the safe haven of bradley’s warm skin, your quizzical brow made him chuckle softly, those amber eyes of his glittering all too beautifully in the afternoon sun. his gentle touch on your cheek had your eyelashes fluttering shut momentarily, leaning into the palm that cradled it. 

“i’ve been offered deputy chief of naval operations. i’ll be here, sugar. you’re going to get so sick of me,” bradley offered gently, now cradling your face in both of his palms, as if you were something precious he needed to hold with care. 

“are– are you serious?” 

“as a heart attack.” bradley promised solemnly as he placed soft, lazy kisses across your face, whispers of love caressing your wet skin. 

“will you stay with me?” he knew. he was giving you an out, should you want it. 

it was the furthest thing from what you wanted.

“always. you’ll be sick of me.” you smiled softly. bradley’s face lit up, that familiar rumble of a laughter bubbling in his chest. 

“oh, little love, that is quite impossible.” he retorted softly, his lips gently caressing yours to seal the deal.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎» ‎𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⁘ amongst salt water skin and silken sheets lies insecurities and innocence, but also tenderness and a willingness to learn...

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

prompt; ❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞ and  ❝  don’t be nervous,  i’ll guide you through it.  ❞

word count; ~ 6.1K

× chapter warnings; loss of virginity, virginity as a normative concept, p in v sex, no use of y/n, smut, porn without plot, creampie, hair tugging, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption(?) if you squint maybe, rooster is a consent king

request; by @diorrfairy. I'm so sorry this took so long my love 🫶

disclaimer; I was rather torn with how I wanted this fic to go. on one hand I wanted it to be how I wished my first time was, yet I did not want to accidentally make it seem as if this is how a 'first time' is supposed to be, if that makes sense. I therefore tried to make it realistic in the way I experienced sex for the first time, but still making it softer, and sweeter, and the way I figure I'd want a first time with someone you love to be. for me sex hurt the first like five times but also my first bf was 6'5 and he was fucking huge so like yeehaw.

tagging people who might like; @roleycoleyland @roosterforme @lewmagoo @theharddeck @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts

Being with Bradley was easy. It was sunny, comfortable, and safe. The soft gaze of the aviator could turn your knees weak in a heartbeat. The way he touched you, the way he listened and understood you - and most of all, the way he never pushed you harder than needed to explore new things if you didn’t want to.

Previously, in all relationships you’d had - whether platonic or romantic, you found that people pushed you. Pushed you to participate in things you maybe weren’t entirely ready for, or didn’t wholly feel comfortable with. Like the first time you got drunk, even though you’d told your friends you’d rather just try one beer and then drink soda. 

Bradley, however, understood the need for you to feel comfortable and safe. He understood that you needed time to contemplate, to reflect, and to sort of turn and twist an event in your mind a few times before throwing yourself headfirst into it. 

So, when the two of you started getting serious, and you, with heat rising to your face, confessed that you ‘hadn’t done much’ in the sexual department, his amber gaze had softened. He’d smiled softly, cradled your cheek in one of his large palms, and placed a tender kiss upon your lips as he promised to take everything in the pace you deemed appropriate.

He wasn’t in a hurry, he’d said before enveloping you in his arms, letting you nuzzle your face into his chest and his safe embrace. Inhaling his scent and feeling his strong arms and hands holding you so delicately, you truly felt safe in his promise not to rush anything.

Bradley had not quite understood your timidness when telling him about not having too much experience. He figured maybe you’d fooled around a little in college with some boys or girls, but that you hadn’t had too many mind blowing sexual encounters. As beautiful and kind as you were, Rooster had a hard time imagining anything else. However, his mother had raised him to always respect a ladies wishes - however small or big that wish was, and he was nothing if not a caring soul himself. He always wanted you to feel safe with him, wanted you to feel you could confide in him, and lay worries and hardships for him to carry with you. 

Which was why he was perfectly content to spend lazy afternoons making out with you straddled on his lap, only sneaking in a squeeze of your ass sporadically - keeping his hands placed gently on your waist, only ever letting them grace slowly upwards to your ribcage and to the wire of your bra. The small little noises you made drove him wild, but he wouldn’t be the person to push you. No, Bradley was more than willing to wait until you asked him to touch you. 

However, as compassionate and patient a man as Bradley was - he was also a little insecure. He had never felt the way he did with you, and he was glad that you both seemed to be on the same page of slowly cherishing each other’s comfort. Felt secure in that this was something you both felt was something special.

Your relationship was not something that needed to be rushed, because both of you felt that this might be it. But one human can only take so many rejections before they start to wonder if it was something that they did wrong. Had he been pushy? Had he made you feel so uncomfortable that even after months of dating you didn’t want him? Or was it simply the fact that you didn’t find him attractive or arousing enough?

These thoughts swirled and tainted the most noble of intentions within Bradley. He so badly wanted you to feel the way he did about you, that it somewhat clouded his perception. Every sweet, bashful smile as you pulled away from him turned into a confirmation that there was something he was doing wrong.

Perhaps you were not a person who wanted what he wanted. He would be okay with that if that were the case, but as he pondered these possibilities in bed after a particularly nice day at the beach with you, he realized that the best way to go about it was to talk about it. 

He smiled as he reminisced on your walk, feet bare in the sand. His heart did double-time as he remembered the way your eyes sparkled, and the way you’d pulled on his hand to draw him into the water with you. Covered in sand and salt water, the two of you had spent the majority of the day in each other's arms (when you were not indulged in very serious bouts of splashing wars) before retreating to Bradley’s home. 

Which was how Bradley found himself perched on his bed after a nice shower to wash away the sand and salt, feeling content with the conclusion he had come to. The water was still running, as you were washing away the day as well, further fuelling Bradley’s thoughts. He was torn from them when you emerged, clad in a large, white, oversized silken button-up. It was rather old, and some of the buttons were missing. Your skin looked soft as it gleamed in the glow of the evening light. Looking at you, Bradley couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched across his lips as he raised his arms to signal he wanted you near. 

Mimicking his smile, you happily straddled his lap, making yourself comfortable before holding up a small container that Rooster hadn’t noticed before. 

“What’s that?” his voice was low, as if the energy of the room shouldn’t be disturbed by loud talking. Fingertips dipped into white cream, before gently ghosting across the skin of his face. 

“It’s to soothe the skin, baby,” you explained softly, massaging the cool cream onto Bradley’s warm face. He hummed in reply, letting his hands grasp your hips, running his thumb up and down over the soft silken material. His eyes fluttered shut as you carefully made sure that every surface of his skin was carefully covered, even going down to cover his throat and neck. 

“All done.” was whispered against his lips, punctured by the soft feel of your plush lips upon his. Your chest had fallen closer to his bare upper body, and the small container now found its resting place on his nightstand as your hands splayed on his pecs and shoulders. 

You deepened the kiss, your tongue curiously exploring and wetting Bradley’s lips before meeting his own tongue slowly. Bradley couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as you pressed closer to him, your tongue so languidly moving with his own, couldn’t help gripping  your hips just a little tighter at the small noises you were emitting whilst hesitantly rolling your hips against his grown hard-on. 

“Sweets…” Bradley rasped, breaking the kiss. Normally, you would look down and look bashful, but this time your lips traveled across his jaw, fluttering over his pulse point as you hummed in acknowledgement. As you reached a particularly sensitive point and nipped softly, Bradley let out a low moan, his hands moving up your waist before they skimmed back down to let them rest on the globes of your ass. Kneading and grasping he groaned again, not noticing the way you had stopped kissing his neck. 

Tensing ever so slightly, you sat up from your position, looking down as nerves fluttered restlessly in your stomach.

“Honey,” Bradley’s voice was soft “talk to me, please. Am I doing something wrong? Do I make you uncomfortable?” his fingers gently asked you to look him in the eye from their place at your chin. Blinking, a small crease formed between your brows. 

“N-no, never! I’ve never felt as safe as I do when I’m with you.” the answer came to you easy, spilling truthfully from your lips as you looked into your boyfriend’s amber eyes. 

“Why do you ask that?” 

“I can feel how tense you are sometimes when we’re like this… you always pull away from me darlin’, and I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, okay? You can tell me anything. If I’ve done something, or if you just don’t feel like ever doing anything– or if I’m not, y’know, doing enough to turn you on–” he was rambling. He knew he was and yet he couldn’t stop; his worries and anxieties coming out in a way he didn’t want them to. He was almost thankful when you cut him off.

“Bradley, do you think I don’t want to have sex with you because you don’t turn me on enough?” if you weren’t feeling nervous butterflies in your stomach at the aspect of actually feeling ready for taking this step with Bradley, you would have laughed. 

“I don’t know… Maybe? Mostly I’ve been worried that I have made you feel unsafe with me. Or that I’ve done something to make you feel as if you don’t want that part of our relationship like that,” it was Bradley’s turn to look bashful. Saying it out loud always made you realize how bizarre some of your thoughts could sound. 

“Honey…” you smiled, leaning into your boyfriend again “I– I just… you know I told you how I haven’t done much?” Bradley nodded. 

“Of course. I am in no way trying to rush you - I totally understand you may have had other experiences with sex before that makes this uncomfortable and–”

“No, Bradley.” you groaned “you don’t understand–” sighing, you paused for a moment. Maybe it would be better to spell it out. “well… honestly, I’ve never really had sex before–” 

Silence hung between two lovers, Bradley’s brows raising slightly in surprise, a feeling of deep guilt settling uncomfortably in his chest. 

“Honey… I am so sorry. I never meant– I mean, I figured you must have, you’re so out of this world beautiful…” Bradley looked at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “I’m sorry, my darling, I just wanted to know if there was something I had done - I will wait for as long as you need,” he straightened up to place his lips upon yours in a soft kiss. 

Shaking your head, you broke the kiss, smiling softly at him. 

“And– I was kinda hoping you would teach me,” you finished your interrupted sentence, letting your fingers sneak into the hair at the nape of Bradley’s neck, tugging and twirling strands of hair there to ease your nerves. Again, Bradley looked at you with such adoration and love that it nearly took your breath away. His hands were back to soothingly rubbing your sides and hips, the way he held you making you feel precious and secure. 

“Darling…” his voice was low but riddled with unspoken emotions, one of his hands moving to cradle your cheek “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want okay. I’m not going anywhere.” his assurance meant the world to you, but you’d felt ready for some time now. 

Mulling it over as you first noticed that when the two of you had ended up entangled in bed, or on the sofa, it didn’t make you feel as panicked as it had in the beginning. It felt exhilarating now. It felt like something you wanted. Something you desperately needed with Bradley. 

“I really want to.” your voice was firm in its choice, and Bradley sat up more from his position reclined against the headrest to be able to place his lips all over your throat. 

“I really want you…” Bradley murmured against your skin as his lips skimmed over the parts he knew had you the most breathless. It drew the tiniest of gasps, followed by a high pitched whimper from you the way he spoke so huskily, so close to your ear, his warm breath momentarily dizzying you. 

“Bradley…” you mewled softly “Please!” Bradley’s head was spinning from the sheer thought of loving you like this, but hearing your sweet plea made his breath hitch in his throat, his hard-on jolting slightly in his boxers at the words. Perhaps he should feel some type of embarrassment over that reaction, but he couldn’t find it in him to do so. Not when you were perched on his lap, clad in a loose fitting silken shirt, looking like the divines themselves. 

“You say stop and we do, okay?” Bradley searched your eyes, and you nodded, tucking your bottom lip between teeth as anticipation swirled through you. “Gotta hear you say it, honey,” Rooster smirked, reaching up to gently let his thumb draw out your bottom lip from between your teeth. That single act had your breath hitching as he let his thumb trace your lip. 

“I say stop and we stop.” you confirmed and Bradley smiled up at you 

“Good girl.” 

Blinking slowly, you took in the two soft spoken words that had drawn out the most sinful sound from your lips. “Oh, God,” you whispered softly, face heating up in embarrassment. Bradley gently shushed you, before letting his hand inch up your ribcage, his thumbs gracing the underside of your breasts. 

“It’s okay, little dove. It’s normal to react this way, alright? Nothing to be embarrassed about.” his voice was so soft, so soothing, that it made you keen even more, needing him closer to you. 

“You have no idea how much it turns me on to see you react to me like this…” Bradley wanted you to know that there was nothing shameful in the way you were reacting, and he desperately needed you to understand he never wanted you to suppress any sounds or feelings that might arise between the two of you. He wanted to see it all, hear it all, experience you and your love in its purest form. 

His hands wandered ever so slightly further up, gently letting his palm encompass the swell of your breasts in his hands, eyes flitting up to yours to see your reaction to the advancement. Letting out a stuttered breath, you let your head tip back at the sensation of his hands warming the silk against your skin.

As Rooster gently kneaded and pressed against your flesh, another breathy moan spilled from your parted lips. As he let his fingers gently pinch at your pebbled nipple, you cried out, suddenly feeling the need to move. You rocked hesitantly in Bradley’s lap, and another relieved whine left your lips as his hard-on rubbed against your damp underwear. 

“Fuck, honey… you’re so beautiful,” Bradley grunted out, trying to hold himself back and not grip your hips and grind you harder down on to him. He truly did believe you had never looked as beautiful as you were now, breath labored, skin glowing in the light that managed to flitter into the room, gently rocking against his lap. He whispered praises against your sternum as his hands slowly kneaded your sensitive flesh, his hot breath fanning over the exposed skin as the shoulder of your night shirt slid down your arm to reveal your breasts. 

Bradley took his time kissing and loving your chest, his large hands working up and down your sides, squeezing at your breasts before letting his tongue flutter over hardened nipples, teasing you as you let out soft, high pitched noises. Your brows were furrowed together, eyelids fluttered closed as you moved your hips down on him, panting slightly from the pleasure of his hard cock brushing your clothed clit every so often. 

“So pretty…” Bradley murmured before he sucked one nipple into his mouth, groaning at the feel of his lips wrapped around your flesh, relishing in the cry it drew from you, reeling at your body reacting by collapsing closer to him, a hand flying to grasp and tug at his hair. You were pulling him closer, and your movement was starting to become a little frazzled as you were overcome by the pleasure Bradley was giving you. 

“Brad–” you were gasping, almost clawing at the back of his head, not sure if you wanted to push him closer to your chest or tug him away. Squirming in your boyfriends’ lap you cried out again, whimpering softly over and over again as you felt his lips release the nipple he had been sucking on, moving to give the other some much needed attention. The cool air against your saliva slick skin had you mewling again. It was all so much, too much, it felt too good, it was dizzying and overwhelming, and Bradley’s hands were touching parts of you you didn’t know were sensitive and–

“Stop!” it was gasped, breathlessly as your eyes shot open, chest heaving before looking down at your boyfriends worried face. 

“Too much?” Bradley cooed, reaching up to let his fingertips grace your cheek. Nodding shyly, you leaned into his touch, face heating at the notion that you needed a break. 

“It– it was too good, I-I couldn’t…” you trailed off, not entirely sure why you had asked him to stop. There had been a pressure building and sparking in you, and it frightened you. The pleasure you felt when the two of you made out, when he touched you, it was tame in comparison. No one else had ever made that… pressure happen before. 

Bradley shushed you softly, licking his lips and smiling softly up at you “S’okay, darling… we’re not in a rush, are we? And if you decide that’s enough for tonight, then that’s alright too.” he assured you, thumbs rubbing against your waist. He couldn’t help that his eyes flickered momentarily to the glistening skin around your breasts, an unfamiliar feeling swirling deep in the pit of his chest at the sight of his saliva marking your skin. It almost made him groan with pleasure, seeing himself on you in any capacity. 

“No, I… I really want you. I truly feel ready, because I’ve been thinking of loving you like this for so long now…” you trailed off, again looking down at where your body sat on top of his, stomach flipping a little as you took in the sun kissed skin of his abs… and that dusting of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers. “I just feel a little nervous” you admitted in a whisper, not being able to help the fluttering nerves within your stomach.

“Don’t be nervous… I’ll guide you through it, sweet girl,” Bradley murmured, nudging his nose against yours before letting his lips slowly move with yours, taking his time to let his tongue taste yours, until your arms were once again wrapped around his neck. 

“That’s it… good girl, keep going,” Bradley whispered against your lips as you again hesitantly rolled your hips against him. Soft mewls left you at his words, and Bradley couldn’t help but smiling into the kiss, filing away every reaction to his actions for later. 

“Does that feel good?” he hummed as he gently gripped your hips, helping you find the right angle to let his cock catch at your entrance before sliding up to your clit. The silk of your panties was dark with your slick, and Bradley could soon feel it covering his own underwear too. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, letting your forehead press against his “it– feels funny,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as that pressure started to come back, even stronger now. Bradley hummed low in his throat, one hand making its way between your bodies to put more pressure where you needed it. 

“Bradley!” you gasped, body jolting slightly as his leaking cock head pressed harder against your sensitive clit. “It’s okay, baby… you’re alright, I’ve got you,” Bradley whispered as he kissed right below your ear, not stopping the slow but steady rocking of your hips. 

“I feel like I’m gonna– gonna–” your trembling voice was interrupted by your small gasps and soft moans, again taking your plush bottom lip between your teeth as the sensation grew stronger. 

“You’re doing so good, honey– don’t stop; just let go for me, baby,” it was as if you needed Bradley’s soft guidance and assurance, because as soon as he told you to, you could feel that pressure spiking, before it snapped and shot through your entire body. The pleasure coursed through your veins as you came with a loud cry, followed by small whimpers of Bradley’s name, burrowing your face in his neck as you whined softly and rolled your hips a couple of more times. 

“There you go… such a good girl… are you alright, doll?” he’s murmuring softly and sweetly against your neck, your pulse thudding hard and fast against his warm lips. Lips that have curved slightly upwards as you cling onto him, fingers gripping at his slightly flexed biceps. You nod against his shoulder, placing a languid chaste kiss to his exposed skin. 

“I’m– I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before” heat again spread across your face, and Bradley couldn’t help the way his chest filled with pride, and an unfamiliar emotion that stirred somewhere close to his abdomen. “Did so good, honey. Looked real beautiful for me,” Bradley smiled, gently holding your hair back from your face before pecking your lips. His hands roamed down your body, until his fingers played with the hem of your underwear. Snapping the elastic slightly, making you gasp, he chuckled softly.

“Can I take these off?” nodding, you felt anticipation roll inside you in stormy waves as the two of you moved your bodies so Bradley could take your underwear off. Bradley’s hands kneaded softly at your thighs as you settled back on his lap, his amber eyes searching your worried face. Licking your lips, you took in Bradley’s completely naked form. Sure, you’d seen naked men before, but nothing compared to the golden tan of Bradley’s skin - the ripple of his abs, the dusting of hair that traveled from below his navel to his pubic bone and– oh god. 

You of all people was aware of Bradley’s size. He was tall, muscular, slightly burly, and his strong embrace always made you feel safe - whether he was lifting you and dropping you into the ocean earlier today, or if he made a point of helping you reach something high up (even if you didn’t always need the help) - but you hadn’t really used your imagination to be able to conjure this. Resting, hard as a rock, against his stomach, you wondered silently how on earth he would fit in you. 

“Honey,” Bradley tried to keep from chuckling, smirking, or sounding too smug when he spoke “it’s alright. We’ll go as slow as needed, love. I’ve got you.” and you trusted your boyfriend, you truly did, but still - how? 

As a distraction, Bradley’s ever working hands had snuck upwards, the pads of his fingers now caressing your sensitive clit, drawing a soft mewl from your parted lips. “That’s it, relax,” he murmured in encouragement as his fingers gently rubbed at your core, letting his middle finger slip further and further into your heat. 

“Oh!” pitching forward, you rested your forehead against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder, moaning involuntarily at the feeling of Bradley pumping his finger in and out slowly, stretching and preparing you. It felt good, that one finger didn’t yet feel uncomfortable. It was when he added a second one that you whined a little and squirmed against him. His voice soothed you, and as he found a spot within you that had you gasping every time his fingers graced it, you found your hips slowly starting to rock against his rhythm to seek out more of the feeling.

“Bradley…” his name tumbled from your lips in a needy gasp as his lips attached themselves to the delicate skin of your neck. You could feel his hot, wet tongue glide over the skin, his teeth nipping slightly before letting his lips close over the area to gently mark your neck. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” his reply was murmured against your skin, his mustache scratching lightly above your pulse point. “Think I want–” you paused “think I want you now…” it was strange how the words rolled off your tongue, embarrassment filling you up slightly at the admission, even with Bradley’s fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. The soft groan that reverberated from your boyfriend's chest made you squeak slightly in surprise, your walls clenching around his fingers as the sound spurred on your arousal. 

“Alright,” Bradley withdrew from the crook of your neck, where he’d had his face nuzzled, to look you in the eyes, giving you a soft smile as his fingers too withdrew from within you. 

“Do you have any condoms, sweets?” he murmured, tilting his head upwards slightly to place a chaste kiss to your warm cheek. Shaking your head no, you placed a soft kiss to his warm lips, admitting to him that you had been on birth control for some years now. You momentarily worried he might ask why you’d bother with contraceptives if you were a virgin. You’d rather not go into detail about how it can regulate your cycle. He just smiled, eagerly chasing your lips for another kiss as his hands stroked up and down your waist - where your silken shirt had created a halo around your midsection. 

“Tell me again what we’d do if you said a certain word?” Bradley looked into your eyes, his brown ones calm and filled with a serenity you could easily get lost in, as his large hand gently held your chin. Licking your lips, you managed a small smile down at your lover as you sat straddled across his lap, his hard cock leaking precum all over that faint line of hair that drove you absolutely insane with want.

“I say stop and we stop.” 

“Good girl,” at your slight shiver at the deep timbre of his voice, your boyfriend couldn’t keep his smirk at bay, loving how well you responded to his praise. 

Large hands gripped your hips as you rose slightly to your knees, your own hands which had been alternating between gripping Roosters biceps, clinging onto his shoulders, or being wrapped around his neck, now fluttered hesitantly down his chest, over his abdominals and down to that tantalizing little trail… The sound Bradley let out sounded relieved yet also a little strained as you hesitantly let your fingertips grace the underside of his hard cock, following along the prominent vein that ran along it. 

“Should I—” you licked your lips, gaze flickering up momentarily to his “should I touch you, before we..?” Bradley smiled softly and shook his head no “I am embarrassingly close to coming just from seeing you like this honey… it’s alright,” a soft smile spread on your lips as you still let your fingers curiously feel around your boyfriends hard shaft, feeling the ridges and veins, surprised at the silky feel of the warm skin. Humming softly you settled on letting your hands rest upon his shoulders again as he again gripped your hips to guide you into a position he deemed appropriate. 

Bradley’s head was spinning as he positioned his cock against your entrance, gently dragging his swollen head between your slick folds, having to take shallow breaths as he heard your whimpers and mewls. He repeated this motion over and over, ghosting over your hole, alternating between stimulating your clit and the sensitive skin around your heat. Soon enough you were rutting against the underside of his cock, making him slicked with your arousal. 

“Fuck, you feel so good!” Bradley groaned as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to get more of him. “Bradley! Please, please,” you whined, biting down slightly on his skin, drawing a deep moan from his parted lips. He let the very tip of his cock slowly enter you before he withdrew again, sliding his cock up towards your clit again. You had gasped and moaned at the short sensation, and Bradley could tell you thought you could take all of him with the way you were bucking your hips, trying to sink down on him.

“Slow down, baby… I’ll get you there, okay? Can’t take all of me yet…” he murmured against your temple, letting his lips linger there for a moment before he again lowered you slightly onto his weeping cock, the very tip breaching your core. 

You were panting now, as Bradley stilled your hips on him, this time not withdrawing as he let himself dip slightly deeper into you. Eyes widening, you whined at the sharp sting of his girth stretching you. 

“Shh, honey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” his calm voice grounded you and you nodded against his shoulder. Bradley had done his best to prepare you, and you were thoroughly wet for him - but still, as he gently lowered you deeper onto him, tears sprang from your eyes at the sharp sting of being stretched by him. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Bradley furrowed his brows as he gently guided you to look at him, wiping at the tears that had leaked from your lashes. “Do you want to stop?” he murmured, large palm soothingly stroking up and down your spine. 

Even though the sharp sting wasn’t exactly comfortable, the feeling of his warmth, and the feeling of being so full still made your insides vibrate with feelings of love and arousal - a feeling that felt rather paradoxical in relation to the sharp stings you felt whenever you moved. Ultimately you spoke a tiny no, leaning into Bradley, seeking his solace and his safe embrace. Whenever you felt vulnerable, or were hurting, you sought out his safety. 

“Being so brave, little dove… being my good girl,” Bradley cooed, letting his strong arm wrap around you, his other slowly moving downwards, gently letting the pad of his finger rest against your clit as he lowered you a few more inches, until finally you sat flush against him. Biting your lip, your fingertips dug into the skin of Roosters biceps hard as he shushed you and praised you even more, making your stomach flip and your heart stutter in your chest. You had no idea mere words could ignite such a fire within you. 

Speaking softly to you, whispering praise and words of love into your ear, Bradley slowly let his fingertips grace over your back, down your arms, over your thighs, your breasts.. as his thumb gently swiped over your nipple, you let out a needy moan. Gently pinching, he drew out another whimper from you, and your breathing seemed to pick up again as he rolled it between his fingers, his palm massaging and kneading your flesh. 

“S’that feel good, honey?” he smiled as you looked him in the eyes, biting your lip and nodding as you experimentally rolled your hips - scrunching your face up, you whined softly at the feeling of discomfort, which was soothed by Bradley’s quick, distracting hands. 

Letting your lips crash against his, Bradley groaned as he used both hands to knead and pinch at your tits and nipples as you rocked slowly on his cock. Gasping and whimpering, you tried lifting your hips and sinking down again, finding that if you did it ever so slightly, it didn’t sting as much and it actually felt good when the tip of his cock hit that little spot inside you. 

“Bradley!” you whimpered against his lips, his name slightly muffled. After the initial pain, you were reeling from the realization that your boyfriend’s cock was buried in your pussy, and he was letting you ride him slowly. Moaning, you leaned slightly back, taking in the sight before you. In your frenzy, you had messed up his hair, and his eyes were glossy with lust, lips slightly swollen. The setting sun was making his tan skin glow, and the freckles that had formed on his shoulders made him look all the more incredible to you. 

“Fuck, god, you’re so fuckin’ tight… feel fucking incredible, Jesus, baby… I love you,” Bradley’s eyes were rolling upwards as you rode him a little faster, his cock pulsing with every slight movement you made. 

“I love you,” you whispered, the words ghosting over his skin. Bradley let his hands wander from your tits down to the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading your asscheeks as you moved up and down on his cock. 

“Can I take over a little, baby?” he murmured into your ear, licking your lips, you nodded quickly, feeling Bradley’s grip on your ass tighten as he lifted and grinded you down against him. A gasp was quickly followed by a loud moan as he angled your hips ever so slightly, making your clit catch on his pubic bone. He sped up slightly, guiding your hips so they rolled and bounced slightly in time with his small thrusts, the head of his cock brushing that spot again and again, making you whimper and keen over and over. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bradley grunted and groaned as he fucked you onto his leaking cock. He was so fucking close, you were gripping and clenching so hard around him, and he was sure he was going to blow his load soon. “Baby you feel so fucking good.. god, this tight little pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock, wasn’t it? Was made to be fucked by me,” Bradley grunted as he babbled, that feeling he felt earlier exploding in his chest at your needy mewls. 

Growling, he took your loud moans as his go ahead to go just a little faster, fuck you just a little deeper. His one forearm wrapped around the curve of your ass as the other snuck up between your shoulder-blades, where he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. A loud cry spilled from your lips as your eyes fluttered close, your body instantly relaxing and going almost limp in his hold as you moaned repeatedly. Growling, Bradley bucked his hips to fuck into you instead of lowering you down on him, and your needy cries made him almost black out with pleasure. 

Soon, he heard you gasping, moaning and crying his name over and over in pleasure. “That’s it honey, tell me who’s making you feel good.. who’s fucking this tight little pussy of yours so good,” his words made your eyes roll back into your head, and with a cry of his name you came for the second time, your slick creating a creamy ring around the base of his cock as he fucked you through the first orgasm you’d ever experienced with someone inside you. 

Whimpering and mewling, the waves of pleasure didn’t stop coming, it just kept going as Bradley’s cock pumped fast and deep into your wet cunt. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a wet sound that you found rather arousing, and your labored breaths and moans. 

“Babe, god I’m so close,” Bradley moaned, holding you tighter to his chest as he gasped, his cock and balls pulsing with the need to release. “Should I pull out?” he wasn’t all together sure he could. “No!” you whined, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. You’d never felt like this before. Your chest was swirling with the need to keep him close, keep him inside of you, you never wanted him to leave.

“Need you, Brad, need you!” you could barely form a full sentence, your words sounding more like whimpery babbles. At your pleas, Bradley grunted and groaned before he swore loudly, his hips bucking before his cock twitched and his release spurted deep within you. 

Feeling his warm seed spilling in you, your eyes rolled back slightly again as you moaned. Bradley’s whole body was shuddering as he ground you down against him, his balls tightening again and again as he released ropes upon ropes of his cum deep in your pussy. 

Sweaty bodies tangled together as you slumped forward against his heaving chest, your own breath labored and unsteady. Nuzzling into his pecs, you could hear and feel the way his heart beat hard inside his chest. “Love you,” you murmured, kissing at his sternum. Rooster’s large hand caressed the back of your head as you both came down from your highs. 

“Might hurt a little when I pull out…” he murmured against the top of your head, and you let out a dissatisfied whine whilst pouting. 

“Are you okay, honey?” he continued, and you smiled and nodded, feeling perfectly content as you laid in the safe arms of your lover, having just given him all of your love, and receiving all of him and his love back. 

AHHHHH fuck this one took forever to finish, and i'm not entirely happy with the ending - but i hope someone might enjoy it still<3 please let me know what you think! i'm always open for constructive crit <3

special thanks to coley and em for helping me through my writers block and cheering me on<3