Roo Comfort - Tumblr Posts

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!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

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.

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.

hi! would you write rooster giving his shy girl cuddles when she's on her period and feeling lonely? thank you <333

anon how did you know this is me rn? so, for you (but also me): you get your period for the first time since you've started seeing rooster and he is just like, the best ever | fluff, fem!reader, 1.4k

The dull ache in your abdomen wakes you earlier than you'd like for a Saturday. You blindly reach for your phone and check the time and then the date -- ugh. Yeah, it's about time for your period.

Mercifully you have not bled on your sheets so you sort yourself out and change from comfy pjs to comfy clothes and resign yourself to a lonely day on the couch. The first few days are always the hardest on you -- you feel sluggish and bloated and tend not to do anything if you can help it.

But lately, your life has taken on a kind of shine you're still getting used to. The biggest thing is the guy you've been seeing: Bradley. It's been just shy of a month and you see him every few days. You've met his aviator friends and he's stayed over at your place once, you at his a few times. He's funny and kind and so handsome and you hope that it changes from "seeing each other" to something more official soon.

That's what stops you from texting him. Maybe if he was officially your boyfriend you'd ask him to pick up some stuff and come over, but you feel shy about doing it for some reason. So you wrap yourself in the sweatshirt he left at your place and settle on the couch to watch something that'll probably make you cry.

Then your phone chirps.

rooster: are you busy today? do you want to walk the boardwalk? i'll buy ice cream : )

Something in your chest starts to ache. You'd mentioned wanting to take advantage of the weather and try the new ice cream shop that opened up by the water.

you: not feeling great today : ( rain check?

Your screen changes a second later, Bradley's contact photo taking over as he calls you. It's a selfie he took on your phone when you were in the bathroom. Oh, you think. Why is he calling you?

"Hi," you say. It sounds a little pathetic.

"Hey," he replies. You imagine him at his place, maybe fresh from his morning run, brows drawn based on the concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

He's calling because you said you were sick? You don't really know what to do with that. "Yeah, just woke up feeling off. I'm sorry about not going to the boardwalk today."

He hums down the line. "Don't apologize, silly," he says. "Do you need anything? I can get anything you want from the store and bring it over. Do you have lemons? My mom swore by lemon tea when she wasn't feeling great --"

Bradley goes on about the things he could get you at the pharmacy and you feel like laughing and crying at the same time. He's known you for less than a month and he's calling to see if you're alright. God, you think. I could love him someday.

Maybe that's why you just blurt it out, embarrassment tingling in your cheeks. "Bradley," you say, and he stops talking. "I'm not like, sick sick. I just...have my period and feel blah."

Something rustles like he's shifting the phone from one ear to the other. "Oh, sweetheart," he says. He's never called you that before. Your name, yes, and shortened versions of it, yes, but a pet name? Not really. You love it. "I can still buy you stuff for that. You might have to send me pictures of the brands you use, though, because there are so damn many in the aisle."

You will not cry. That would be very cliche of you, and frankly, this is what every girl deserves. But damn if your heart doesn't feel like it's bursting.

"You don't need to buy me anything," you say, softly. You will your shyness away. "But uh, if you don't mind sitting on the couch with a kind of grumpy girl watching nature documentaries all day, you could come over?"

"I absolutely do not mind doing that," he says and you feel like you can hear his smile. "I'll be over in an hour?"

It feels big, somehow, him coming over because you're on your period and feel like shit. Thus far you've spent time together doing things -- going to the Hard Deck or out to eat and, a few times so far, learning each other in bed. You haven't really had a lazy day.

So when he knocks, you slide in your socks to the door maybe a little too fast for the ache you feel all over. You forget that you're in ratty shorts and his sweatshirt until you open the door and he looks you up and down.

"Hi," he says. "Cute." You tug on the sleeves and scrunch up your nose, moving aside to let him in. It's then that you notice he's carrying a bag from the pharmacy.

"Bradley, I said you didn't have to buy anything." He toes off his shoes and shoots you an incredulous look.

"Well, don't get too excited," he says. "I didn't know what flavor of stuff you like so I went kind of basic. I can go get more if you hate all of it."

He sets the bag on your counter and starts to unpack it. You watch him as he does -- damp hair like he showered before he came, workout shorts and a t-shirt that looks oh-so-soft. The scars on his face stand out with his recent tan and you find one you haven't noticed before on his neck. It's fun, the newness of what you have. You're still learning him.

The counter is now full of various ice creams and sweet snacks, as well as some pain medication and...a lemon. "What is your favorite flavor, anyway?" he says, packing the cartons into your freezer.

You tell him and he taps his temple like he's storing it. "I'll remember next time."

Next time.

"Bradley," you mutter. He hears you, turning his head and shutting the freezer. "Thank you for coming over and bringing this stuff."

His eyes go soft and smiles your favorite Bradley smile so far -- it's soft, tender, pleased. "Of course," he says, reaching for you. You take a step and meet him halfway. One big hand tangles with yours and the other cups your jaw, thumb moving slowly over the skin of your cheek. "Thanks for letting me," he adds. He knows that you get shy, that you're still getting to know the private parts of each other.

He kisses you softly and you sigh into his mouth until a wave of cramps hits and you wince. Bradley pulls away with concern on his face until he puts it together. "Sorry," you say. He hushes you.

"Let me make you some of that lemon tea and then we can sit on the couch? I seem to remember you mentioning nature documentaries?" He taps your chin with a knuckle when you nod.

"I like the sound of that," you say.

You try to stay upright as you wait, you really do. But the cramps are coming in waves and you're tired, so you end up horizontal on the couch by the time Bradley brings over the mug.

"Oh," he says, frowning. "Do you want some meds?"

You shake your head. You already took some before he arrived. He puts the mug on your table and cracks his knuckles. The movement gives you an idea.

"Bradley," you say. "I have an idea." He sits on the edge of the couch and puts his hand on your knee.

"Anything."

"Your hands..." you swallow. The shyness creeps up your throat but you persevere. "If you put them here --" you pat your abdomen -- "they'd be like a heating pad."

"Say no more," he says. "Scoot." Bradley actually does all the arranging, settling himself between you and the back of the couch. Your legs tangle and he hooks his chin over your shoulder. "Here?" he asks, putting his hand over the waistband of your shorts.

"Yeah, almost." You can already feel the heat radiating from him and you move his palm so it's on your bare skin under your top, a few fingers sneaking under the waistband of your shorts. It should be sexy, honestly, and while it is intimate, more than anything it's comfortable. "Perfect," you sigh. It really is. He really is.

Bradley relaxes behind you and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Good," he says. "Now let's watch some badass shit about monkeys or something."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

You’re Safe Baby

Anonymous asked:

hey can u do a rooster one shot where o/c is having a panic attack because of a mission and rooster helps her and calms her down? they are dating btw. thank u sm

Warnings: PTSD, Panic Attacks, Language

Quick bonus references!

The Song 

Masterlist

Bradley being the supportive boyfriend he is helps his girlfriend overcome her panic attack and remind her she is safe.

Hearing the words bird strike over the radio sent her into a panic. She could only think of the mission two years ago, where they lost two good aviators. The room began spinning as she frantically looked for the quickest exit. All she could think of was how she hadn’t been able to help then and couldn’t now. The sounds of panic on the radio were making the situation worse. She was stuck in the past, and it terrified her. She wasn’t sure where Bradley was, but she heard Hangman shout his name.

“Shit…honey, listen to me! Hangman, you stay here. I got her.” He said, scooping her into his arms and sprinting towards the locker room. The sobs reached by the time they reached the hallway, and she could feel herself struggling to breathe.

“Baby, listen to me; it’s alright. I’m here…just listen to my voice, okay?” He quickly opened his locker and pulled out his phone, putting on the playlist he made for her when she had panic attacks. They had learned from a friend that music helped. Hitting play, Sea of Simulation from the Tron Legacy soundtrack began playing as he turned it up.

“Shhh…you’re safe baby, here let’s breathe in together and breathe out…good focus on the music. That’s it, deep breath. That’s my girl. Can you do me a favor, baby? Name three things you see. What can you see, baby?” After his own first panic attack years ago, he learned as many methods as he could, and his go-to was the three threes. She looked around the room and took a deep breath.

“I see you…I see…the lockers…I see the showers.” She whispered, making him smile as he nodded.

“You know what I see? I see you too, baby. I see the bench there and the bulletin board behind you. Now, what are three things you can hear?” She took another breath, whimpering as she briefly had a mental flashback of the mission. “Come on, baby, you got this. You are doing so well. What can you hear?” He asked as he gently wiped away her tears.

“I hear your voice…the music and…and…the clock.” He gave her another smile and nodded.

“You know what I hear? I hear your voice too, baby, and the music too, and I hear that old AC unit. Think it’s older than your Dad?” She gave him an almost smile and laugh as she continued to match his breathing. “Now, can you move three parts of your body for me?” She nodded, and he smiled.

“Make that two parts of your body then, pretty girl.” She wiggled her fingers against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “There you go, that was three, neck, fingers, and arms. Now my turn, pretty girl.” He shifted his leg from a bent position to straight, then tilted her chin up and kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers.

“Moved my leg, arm, and my lips.” She gave a soft smile as she looked at him with teary eyes. “Shh, I hate when you cry, sweetheart, c’mere you are safe. And I know that Nat and Bob will be safe too.” There was a gentle knock on the door as the two looked up and saw Hangman make his way into the locker room.

“Phoenix and Bob are okay. They have a few bruises, but they are fine. You two good?” The blond said as he took in the sight of them sitting on the floor.

“Yeah, we are good. And see what I tell you. Phoenix and Bob are safe. You know how tough Nat is. And you know she wouldn’t let anything happen to Bob. Do you want to go see for yourself?” He asked as she nodded. What happened two years ago had been a freak accident. Two aviators had been lost, but not today. Today was a different day. Both were fine, accidents happen, but they don’t always end badly.

“Thank you…” She whispered as she held Bradley close, sniffling as he wiped her tears.

“You don’t have to thank me, pretty girl. You’ve done the same for me. But tell you what, you want to make it up to me; gimme one of those smiles I love. Ah, that’s the one.” He said when she smiled up at him.