Rooster Fanfic - Tumblr Posts
OMG I NEED PART 2
Hello, I Love You | Rooster x Reader
Summary: When Phoenix signs Bradley up for speed dating on Valentine's Day, he is skeptical. But after he meets the woman of his dreams, he's not afraid to admit his best friend was right.
Warnings: Pure fluff, adult banter, some cursing
Length: 2300 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for my Love Is In The Air playlist challenge! Thanks for reading! And please check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.
Bradley strolled into the Hard Deck, got a beer from Jimmy, and then made his way to the pool table to join his friends.
"What's up?" he asked Phoenix when she eyed him a little nervously.
"Now, don't get mad, okay?" She set her pool cue down and patted his shoulder.
"What did you do?" Bradley asked, frozen with his beer halfway to his lips.
Phoenix smoothed out his Hawaiian shirt across his chest and shoulders, and then she took his chin in her hand and turned his face from side to side. "Yeah, okay, should be fine," she muttered, examining his appearance.
"Nat, seriously, what did you do?"
"Well.... I signed you up for speed dating," she informed him, wincing before he even responded.
"No," he said, adamantly shaking his head. "Nope." Bradley sipped his beer and turned to grab some darts.
"And it starts in thirty minutes," Phoenix added, her eyes going wide as Bradley glared at her.
"Natasha, I'm not going."
"But you're lonely! And it's Valentine's Day! You need a girl!"
Bradley scoffed. "I'm not lonely. I'm... picky."
"Too picky, Rooster. Just go to the speed dating thing, please? I already spent twenty bucks to sign you up," she pleaded. "It comes with a free drink!"
Bradley chuckled. "You think I'll find a girl there? You're insane, Nat. It's going to be the weirdest assortment of people under the San Diego sun. Crazy people who collect cats and probably a bunch of basement dwellers."
But as he watched his friend's face fall, he felt a little guilty. "I just thought you might have fun, you know, putting yourself out there. It's been a year since you dated anyone," she said softly.
Bradley took a sip of his beer and ran his hand over his face. "Fine. I'll go, but only to prove to you that I'm right and you're wrong."
He watched her jump up and down a few times and clap her hands. "Yes! It's at the Surfside Tavern, and if you leave now, you'll arrive just in time," she said, taking his beer from his hand and pushing him toward the door. "Text me later and let me know how it goes... unless you know, you're busy getting hot with a basement dweller."
Bradley just rolled his eyes and headed toward the Bronco.
--------------------------
"Let me get you signed in! What's your name?" asked a young man with Connor on his name tag. He was seated at a small table at the front of the bar, and now Bradley was getting a little nervous. There were a lot of people here tonight.
"Bradley Bradshaw," he replied, taking a name tag sticker from Connor.
"Just grab your drink at the bar and head on back to the area where the tables are set up. I'll get everyone started soon," said Connor with a smile.
Bradley took a deep breath, half tempted to bail, but then he thought it would be worthwhile to get his free drink since Nat stole his other one. He got a beer from the bartender and then turned toward the back of the room, where there were a bunch of guys were wearing suits.
"Shit," he muttered, glancing down at his own jeans and bright shirt.
When he looked up, he quickly braced himself as you accidentally bumped into him, the drink in your martini glass sloshing precariously close to the rim. "Sorry!" you gasped, looking up at him.
He steadied you, wrapping on big hand around your waist as you regained your balance. And Bradley instantly knew there was no chance he would be bailing early tonight.
"Thanks," you whispered, tapping your martini glass to his beer bottle with a grin.
You took a slow step away from him as Bradley whispered, "Damn." You looked like a real treat, with bright eyes and kind of a shy smile. And as you walked toward all of the guys in suits, you turned to smile back at him over your shoulder.
"Okay, let's get started!" Connor announced, pulling your attention away from Bradley and toward him. "Let's have the ladies each take a seat at one of the tables, and the guys will rotate around the room. You'll have five minutes to get to know each person, and then I'll tell you to switch. You can grab a notepad and a pencil if you want to keep track of names. Let's go!"
Bradley watched you take a seat and cross your legs, subtly glancing at him again. He was pulled toward your table like a magnet, barely able to control himself. But it looked like he wasn't the only one.
"Fucking suits," he groaned when another guy sat down across from you. Bradley doubled back and chose a table with someone else, practically tripping since he could barely look away.
"Hi! I'm Bridget!" said the bubbly woman now seated across from him.
"I'm Bradley," he replied with a smile, trying to discreetly count how many tables away you were sitting.
"Oh my God! We both have B names! That's insane!" Bridget gushed.
Bradley laughed nervously. "Both are BR names, actually," he muttered. Then he watched her scribble down his name with KEEPER next to it.
Oh shit. He had to endure five minutes of Bridget listing off potential names for their theoretical future children. Bruce, Brandy, Bryce, Brinley, Brooke and Brynn were apparently all viable options, and when Connor announced that five minutes was up, Bradley launched out of his seat.
He tried to hustle over to your table, but Connor was on him right away. "We're rotating in order. Remember?"
Bradley looked over to where you were sitting, shaking hands with your second "date". But you were looking at Bradley and smiling. It looked like you were trying not to laugh.
Bradley glared down at Connor, towering over him. "Come on, man. See that one over there? I wanna talk to her."
But Connor was not deterred, and rather showed Bradley to his next table with Angie. "What do you do for a living?" she asked, smiling at him across the table.
"I'm a Naval aviator," he replied, trying to get a peek of you talking with Mr. Suit.
"Oh," Angie replied, and her smile turned into a frown. "I'm in the Army." Bradley watched her jot down his name and write NO next to it. Then she took out her phone and started to play Candy Crush.
Once again, when it was time to switch tables, Bradley jumped up and rushed toward yours.
"Sir, we've been over this before," Connor called after him, but Bradley made his way to where you were sitting with a different guy who was wearing a full-blown tuxedo.
"Hi," Bradley said, reaching out to shake your hand. He checked your name tag this time; he just fucking knew you'd have a pretty name. And your hand was so small and soft, he held onto it for a moment.
You looked up at him, and an adorable giggle escaped your lips before you also said, "Hi."
"I just wanted to make sure you know I'm coming up in two more tables," he told you very seriously.
You nodded your head and pressed your lips together to try to stifle your smile. "Yeah, I noticed that when you tried to knock several people over a few minutes ago."
Bradley smiled at you, already loving your sense of humor.
"Don't write down anything flattering about him, okay?" Bradley nodded toward the guy in the tux who just scowled in response.
Your shoulders shook with silent laughter. "I'll see what I can do."
"Sir!" Connor scolded. "This is not your table!"
"Yes, Connor, I know," Bradley grumbled, heading over to sit with Michelle.
Michelle eyed him cautiously. "I take it you're only interested in her?" she asked, gesturing toward your table.
Bradley shrugged. "Sorry, Michelle."
She shrugged too. "That's okay. I really liked Simon. Want to hear about the novel I'm writing?"
Bradley was enthralled after five minutes of Michelle explaining the intricate plot of the detective thriller she was working on. "Damn it, Michelle. I need to know how it ends."
She smiled and jotted down his email address. "I'll put you on my mailing list."
Finally Bradley was seated at the table next to yours, just a few feet away from you. "Hi," he said again, and he could tell he must have the dumbest look on his face.
He watched your lips curl into the most radiant smile. "Hi, Bradley." God, he felt light headed as soon as you said his name.
"I'll be there soon," he promised, and you blushed a little bit as you turned toward another guy in a fucking suit.
Bradley turned toward Cara and asked, "Has every other guy been in a suit?"
She nodded. "One was in a tuxedo."
"Huh," he grunted, trying so hard not to focus on you while Cara asked him questions about himself.
"Bradley, where do you work?"
He shook his head, "No... I'm originally from Virginia."
"That's not what I asked."
But Bradley couldn't help it. You were sipping your martini and re-crossing your legs. And the guy you were with sounded boring as hell.
"Are you even listening to me?" Cara asked, breaking his concentration
"Oh, uh... sorry, no," he replied, smiling at you as you glanced at him.
"Rotate!" Connor called, and Bradley was practically shoving the suit guy out of his seat at your table.
"Finally," he muttered, smirking as he sat down. Your cheeks were a little flushed as you spun your martini glass on the table by the stem. When your gaze slid up his chest and neck and landed on his face, he asked you, "You've gotta tell me, what are you doing here? You could get a date just walking around Target in your pajamas."
You laughed and bit your lip, tipping your head back to look at the ceiling before meeting his eyes again. "I don't wear pajamas," you told him with a smirk of your own.
Bradley sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "I rest my case."
"What about you, Bradley? You're cute. I like your mustache. And thank God you're not wearing a suit. You could probably get a date just by shoving the previous guy out of his seat and asking me."
He nodded his head and tried not to smile. You were so fun. And you were quick on the draw. "We'll get there, babe. But actually... my best friend made me come tonight. She thinks I'm too picky when it comes to women."
"Oh yeah? Well, what do you like?" you asked, raising the glass to your lips again and taking another sip.
"So far, I like you. A lot."
Your cheeks were even more flushed now, and Bradley wanted to talk to you all night long.
"What do you look for in a guy?" he asked, leaning his forearms on the table to get a little closer to you.
You leaned a bit closer as well as you told him, "I need someone who can make me laugh. It doesn't hurt if he's handsome. And I think mustaches just moved to the top of my nonnegotiable list."
Bradley licked his lips. "And what's your ideal first date, babe? I'm planning on making it very memorable for you; already hoping for a second."
You laughed again. "Padres game. Complete with beer and ballpark nachos."
"Seriously, why are you here?"
You nibbled on your lip for a beat before you said, "My sister made me come. She said she's so tired of listening to me complain that there are no cute, funny, single guys with mustaches who aren't afraid to wear a green and yellow Hawaiian print shirt in public."
Bradley's entire body was humming. "There's nothing about you that would turn me off, is there?" he asked, and his voice was raspier now.
He watched you lick your lips and shake your head. "No. Unless you can't stand smart girls who like to be a little sassy when they aren't wearing any pajamas."
Bradley audibly groaned and you giggled.
"Rotate!" Connor called, and everyone was up and moving around.
"Fuck, no. I'm not moving, Connor!" Bradley called over his shoulder. Your eyes were glittering with amusement, and Bradley was going to leave this bar with you if it killed him.
Connor walked over and sighed. "You've already had five minutes together."
"That's not long enough. Have you seen her, Connor?" Bradley asked, nodding at you. "Fifty bucks if you tack on another five minutes, my man," Bradley promised him, making you crack up across the table.
Connor just muttered, "Before he wouldn't sit down, now he won't get up."
Bradley felt you take his hand in yours, and his eyes were immediately on your face. "Let's get out of here, Bradley," you suggested. "Go to another bar? Or go for a walk?"
"Absolutely," he replied, hopping up and pulling you to your feet.
You led him through the bar, smiling at him over your shoulder as you laced your fingers through his, and Bradley could already tell you were his perfect match.
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Natasha was still shooting some pool with the guys when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out to read a text from Bradley.
Rooster Bradshaw: YOU WERE RIGHT.
"I knew it!" she shouted, jumping up and down again.
------------------------------
Thanks for reading! There are plenty of other love song themed Top Gun: Maverick stories available here!
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The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4100 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious.
So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.
Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated.
Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support.
"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm.
"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."
When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."
You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just.
The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.
You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again.
"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."
"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene.
And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted.
When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.
"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."
You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you.
"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"
"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."
"And how do you know him?"
You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.
"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"
Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning.
"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant."
"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"
But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad.
"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"
You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.
"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"
"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."
"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked.
"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight.
"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"
The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."
You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat.
"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down.
Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"
"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."
Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"
"No. Never."
"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"
"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now.
Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"
"Yes," you replied with conviction.
"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"
You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.
"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked.
"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."
"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer.
"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.
So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."
"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer.
Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"
She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."
"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again.
"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.
You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going.
"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."
Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear.
"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.
---------------------------
Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.
When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic.
"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."
The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"
Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair.
"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well.
He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had.
He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers.
"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her.
"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."
"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare.
He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.
When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah.
"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.
"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing."
So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room.
Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."
Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown.
"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."
Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah.
And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses.
"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled.
"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."
"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."
"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."
"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.
"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"
As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."
------------------------
You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them.
"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.
"Yeah! And ants on logs!"
You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third.
He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his.
"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor.
As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."
Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space.
Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.
"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."
So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.
And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.
Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."
He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."
The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table.
--------------------------
Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !
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okok writing this tonight 🫡
i have a rooster x kazansky!reader idea.. mayhaps i will write tonight
life for two
pairings: platonic pete "maverick" mitchell x kazansky!reader, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader
word count: ~0.6k
warnings: pregnancy, allusions to grief, top gun: maverick spoilers, allusions to anxiety and ptsd
a/n: there is an incredibly detailed collection by @ofstoriesandstardust revolving around a mitchell!reader x rooster where her godfather is iceman, but i have been pondering the idea of if the roles were reversed for a hot minute. i VERY highly recommend reading through the same mistakes-verse if you are a tg:m fan as this collection does an incredible job of expanding upon the characters we love so much from a different perspective. but this is my little self-indulgent spin on things.
song inspo: life for two by brandon jenner
A light knock broke Maverick’s focus on the reports scattered across his desk. The captain peered up to spot his intruder, eyes softening at the figure standing timidly in the doorway.
“Frost,” Maverick chimed. Her presence was always a welcome one, to be sure, but her demeanor was worrying to him. Ice’s daughter had always stood with as much pride as her father did in his earliest days at Top Gun. There was something off about her now, with her shoulders slumped and her fingers fiddling at her sides. Rather than a grown woman, Maverick thought he was looking at a frightened child.
“Uncle Mav,” she tried, voice already shaking. What had happened? How had his goddaughter been reduced to such an open state of fragility? Not even on her father’s funeral day did she let her resilience go. Maverick crossed the room in quick strides before tugging her inside and shutting the door behind them both.
He let her get settled on the small couch before sitting beside her. Maverick’s eyes didn’t budge from their fixation on her worrying expression. Frostbite couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Her hands continued to fidget frantically, wringing back and forth in an attempt to steady herself. Still, not a drop of her nerves relented.
Maverick tried calling out her name. He was now getting scared. Ice reacted similarly when telling him his cancer had come back. Was similar glum news awaiting him at the end of this conversation? “What’s going on, kid? Talk to me.”
At last, Frostbite looked up at her godfather. Tears were beginning to break along her lashline. It sent a cold shock through Maverick. But before he could press further, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”
Oh. Oh. The news itself wasn’t entirely jarring. His goddaughter and godson had been together for quite some time, happy as can be. What was jarring was the fear that seemed to freeze one of the most fearless people he’d ever seen.
Maverick offered a soft smile in response. “Frost, that’s great. You’ve wanted kiddos for you and Bradley since you were kiddos.” He gently clapped a hand on her shoulder, feeling the muscle tense beneath his touch almost instantly.
“What if he doesn’t want it?” Every word came out shaking. “What if he does, but another deployment comes up? What if he never makes it home?” Some of the tears Frost had been holding back slipped down her paling cheeks. Doubts and worst-case scenarios had been running marathons in her mind ever since that little plastic stick showed two dark lines. Giving voice to these ideas was only making them seem that much more plausible.
Frostbite did not give Pete the time to counter before she went on, her next words chilling him to the bone. “He should be here.”
Maverick knew she did not mean Bradley. Sure, Sarah was still ever-present and well in their lives even in the face of ultimate grief. But what little girl imagined going through a pregnancy without her father there? Walking down the aisle at her wedding without his arm linked through hers? Raising his grandchild who would never know his warm embrace?
A sob brought him back to the moment. Frostbite was bent forward, hands pressed against her head as her body shook with every cry struggling to surface. It broke his heart to see her, even now, trying to hold some composure.
“Come here,” he beckoned. Maverick softly tugged her to lean against his side, arms wrapping around her trembling form. Frost tucked her face against his jacket as she finally let go of all she had been holding back: all of the sadness, anger, denial, and resentment that came with grief.
Pete held her close, letting some tears of his own fall as the pair grieved for the man who tied them together.
-
i might write a part 2 where frostbite actually tells bradley that she is pregnant but this is all my mind will let me get away with for now. i hope someone enjoys >.<
open arms (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader)
for @roosterforme's 80's "Rocktober" Playlist Fic Challenge!
word count: ~2.6k
warnings: top gun: maverick spoilers, mention of death/funeral, general anxiety
song inspiration: open arms by journey
a/n: thank you so much to emily for this challenge! i truly have not felt so inspired to write in such a long time so this challenge was perfect for me. (my writing’s still a bit rusty, don’t get me wrong, but practice makes perfect eh?) all my love to you always, my favorite FAVORITE tg creator <3
lying beside you, here in the dark, feeling your heart beat with mine.
It was no longer a rarity that you ended up here, nestled beneath gently worn sheets against Bradley's side. Your shared breaths tangled in the air before finding a synchronized rhythm. His steady pulse thrummed against your ear as his hand traced lazily against your side. Silence had never felt so comfortable. And yet, each night you spent in each other's embrace, your mind wrestled with what this all meant.
You couldn't pop that bubble tonight, not when tomorrow meant Bradley would be seabound once again. The reminder of his departure had you nuzzling closer to him. Part of you wished you could sink into his skin somehow; to both stay at his side and shroud yourself from the muddled emotions you kept at bay. Bradley responded to your movement with a soft kiss to the top of your head and a contented sigh slipping past his lips.
How was so relaxed, not knowing what was to come of this deployment? It was equal parts inspiring and horrifying to see the stoicism he held for his work. You knew better than most how much it meant for him to follow in the footsteps of his father. The potential dangers would never outweigh the pride and passion he felt for flying. So instead, you sat to bear the brunt of the worry whenever he was sent off.
Shifting up slightly, you dared to find his face. His eyes sparkled in the streaks of moonlight seeping from the window. They were fixed on the ceiling as if he were deep in thought.
"What's on your mind?" Bradley did not shift his gaze to you just yet. Instead, he took in another deep breath, lifting his head along the way. His exhale was exasperated and furthered your concern. You sat up more, a hand trailing behind to cup his cheek. "Bradley?" you tried again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I would never judge you."
The eyes Bradley met you with were filled with uncertainty; and hesitation, too. If you had known any better, you would suspect his thoughts were mirroring your own. What are we? What is this? Do you feel the same as I do? What do we do about it? There were too many questions for too few hours left together. There was never enough time.
You had settled with the time you could share, the sunny days filled with laughter and the intimate nights that became second nature to you both. Any question of “more” was pushed further and further off the table with every assignment.
He gave you half a smile as he brushed your hair back from your face. "You're so sincere," he whispered. A light flush danced along your cheeks as you fought a shy smile. "You look out for me more than anyone. You always have."
"And you have for me, too," you reminded him.
we sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.
Naval life brought you and Bradley together. He was the son of the great and ill-fated Nick Bradshaw, while you were the daughter of the highly decorated admiral Tom Kazansky. Virginia was home to you both in the years of your youth and rarely did your mothers keep you apart as you grew. Bradley was your best friend, and him yours.
You supported him on his journey to the Navy: trained alongside him for his physicals and quizzed him on examination materials. It was in those same moments you first felt afraid, both of what could happen to him in service and what you felt blooming in your chest. Half of that fear was suspended when your Uncle Pete pulled Bradley’s papers from the naval academy. The other half buried itself deep down as you acted once again as a shoulder for the frustrations of your best friend.
The decades following saw you both through all the stages of life: college classes, breakups, graduations, careers, apartments. Though your contact waned and waxed along the way, your paths never failed to converge. Like when he was stationed in Connecticut while you were living there, or when you found him vacationing in Key West during a work trip.
Your path led you back to San Diego, once your parents based themselves there. Only weeks ago had you moved across the country to support them both as your father's condition worsened. They pushed you to take some nights for yourself, and the Hard Deck was an easy recommendation.
Despite the many twists of fate that had reunited you for years, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions you felt seeing Bradley there. You were fighting to catch a half-decent breath as your heart beat rapidly in your chest.
It wasn’t long before he spotted you. There was some sort of unspoken second sense you had for one another. After a warm hug and some quips from his squad mates, you two were sharing drinks and laughing together like always. It was as if no time had passed since your last serendipitous meeting. He asked about your life, and you asked about his. Your throat tightened at his reason for returning to TOP GUN, but you shoveled those feelings, like always.
They resurfaced at the closing of your father’s funeral. Your Uncle Pete took to escorting your mother away while you stood still as stone at the gravesite. All of the aviators in attendance had departed from the cemetery. All but one.
It was quiet, apart from the slight whistle of the air. You heard the careful padding of feet behind you but cared not to face the intruder. A hand along the small of your back was all you needed to know who had stayed behind. As your face scrunched up in sorrow, Bradley curled you against himself. He kept you guarded through your tears, murmuring every word of solace he thought of into your ear.
And when you urged you could not face the others in mourning, Bradley brought you to your hotel room. He held you through your grief for Tom, as you had held him through his for Carole. He promised that night to forever hold you in your hardest moments, and you shakily promised the same.
Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay: the loss of your father, the mission, and whatever came after. Through every peak and valley, it had always felt like that when Bradley was beside you.
living without you, living alone, this empty house feels so cold. wanting to hold you, wanting you near. how much i want to bring you home.
Housesitting seemed like a good idea in the moment. You had yet to find your own bearings on the West Coast as you kept your mother company in her grief. She was kind to open her home to you, yet you craved to return to the breadth of your independence. Crashing at an empty house gave you a taste of that.
It was a no-brainer to Bradley. By the time he had gotten his papers, you were his home’s most frequent guest. He trusted you more than anyone; though, he would never say as such to Nat. The younger lieutenant had already teased enough about her friend’s recovered friendship.
Pieces of that friendship were dotted around the house, you quickly discovered. You had tried your best to keep your mind away from it. The days not jammed with work assignments and housekeeping drew too long. No hobby or day trip could fill the void caving deep in your chest. Empty notification screens and inboxes tore it further apart.
You caved on the fifth week, finally diving into the details of the quaint beach house. Bradley had kept the memories of almost four decades perfectly preserved in so many ways. Virginia Beach carnival tickets from your teen years in a trinket box, a takeout menu from a diner in Connecticut stuffed into a desk drawer, an incredibly tacky Key West magnet hung on his fridge.
An entire photo album was dedicated to your shared Navy family: your aviator uncles and fathers, your mothers, and the pair of you. Faded tickets and receipts were pasted alongside the pictures of your years together once he had a mind for momentos. You felt your chest grow tighter at the thought that went into each page.
Five weeks had passed without a single word from him or any of the friends you now shared. You knew missions could be like this, your own father having gone AWOL for months on several different top-level occasions. And yet, it never left you feeling so empty before.
Bradley's room had stayed shut since he closed it before leaving. You had not dared to breach his privacy, despite his continual assurances that you could sleep in his bed while he was away.
“It’s practically our bed at this point, isn’t it?”
But the closeness was too much. You had needed to distance yourself from it, desperate to quiet the fright echoing in your mind. Now, you longed to drown yourself in the ghost of his presence.
Bradley had fixed up his things before leaving. Ever the neat freak, his floor was swept clean and his bedding was perfectly tucked. The only difference you spotted was a green woolen blanket peeking above one pillow.
Carole had gifted you that blanket. It had started as you needing it one night at her house and quickly became a regular borrowing occurrence. You only ever returned it when she was at her sickest. The hope was to provide her with the same compassion and encouragement she gave you as you grew up. After she passed, you didn’t think to ask where it ended up.
You clutched onto the material, desperate sobs shaking your body. Bradley had held onto it this whole time. He tucked it in safely where he had wanted you to be, to provide you the comfort you needed while he was preparing for a flight that held no guarantee of a safe return. Bradley Bradshaw was looking out for you again, just like he always had.
The weight of it all dawned on you as you lay cold as ever in that bed. How much you wished he would walk through the door, how much you yearned for the warmth of his body beside yours; how much you wished to tell him everything. In the light of your realization, nothing mattered more than the docking date just over the horizon.
but now that you've come back, turned night into day, i need you to stay.
You had wanted to go to the dock: to be the person Bradley bolted off of the ship to embrace, the one to welcome him home after weeks away. It was the silence that locked you in place. Not a single form of correspondence had reached you since he had departed. Frustration would be an easy crutch to rely on if you weren’t so riddled with fear.
Fear that your last kiss was on the front steps of his porch. Fear that you would never again hear his honeyed voice singing along to your radio. Fear that you had lost your one true companion in this life, past your ups and downs along the way.
Nat was making rounds to grab Jake, Bob, and Javy off of the carrier, anyway. “It’s no problem,” she had said when you called her not half an hour before you had been planning to leave. It was scribbled on your calendar, with a little heart that Bradley added on himself. Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stared at it.
You dreaded a knock on your door, accompanied by an officer wearing a sullen expression and desolate words that would blur in your ears. Or the sorrowful looks worn by his closest squad mates as they found you in the crowd of families and other loved ones awaiting their arrival.
The possibilities plagued any chance of restful sleep, that night above all the nights since his departure. Instead, you curled yourself against Bradley’s beat-up loveseat from college, eyes darting to the front door at every blare of headlights passing by.
The ungodly hour ticked on from the tacky bar clock on the wall: one of Goose’s favorite old house accessories. Draped around your shaky form was the blanket from Carole. Your father’s dog tags hung from your neck. Would you soon need memorabilia to remember Bradley by, too?
A soft creak of wood caught your attention, then another. Keys jingled at the front door as the lock began to turn. Tired from travels and anxious from his own arrival, Bradley trudged through the door with his bag in tow.
You barely contained your gasp, drawing his attention right to you as you lurched up from your seat. The duffel fell from his hand with a light thud on the floor. Not a second was wasted before you ran to embrace him. Bradley caught you instantly as you leaped into his open arms.
The tears you had restrained for hours fell freely into the fabric of his uniform. Your hands clung tightly around his neck, scared to ever let go.
“I’ve got you,” Bradley soothed as he felt the rush of your anxieties manifesting. “I’m right here, darlin’; I’m home.”
“I was s-so worried,” you hiccuped. “I-I didn’t hear anything, a-and I-”
“Shhh, I know. I know; I’m so sorry.” He walked you both back over to the loveseat. Falling against it, Bradley held you closer to him as his wind-chapped lips buried into your hair. A deep inhale drew you closer to his shoulder, the resulting exhale elevating you to the familiar beat of his heart.
Only a few moments passed before you began to push at his chest. He was quick to brace himself for you to sit upright in his lap. Your eyes scanning him were unreadable. Bradley rubbed the tops of your thighs, clad in his old UVA sweatpants, as he waited on you patiently.
The words were right there. They had burdened the tip of your tongue through almost every stage of your intertwined lives. No matter what the outcome would be, no excuse was great enough to keep them caged any longer. You were done keeping this final piece of yourself from the person who had already put together the rest.
“I was looking around here, while you were gone,” you sniffled. Bradley nodded as a gentle encouragement. He could read your apprehension as clear as day. Still, he would never force answers from you that you were not yet ready to give. He gave you soft and composed reassurances instead.
After taking a deep breath, you continued. “We’ve spent so much of our lives dancing around one another; our whole lives, even.” You fought to keep your eyes locked in his, despite the adrenaline beginning to race through your system. “And no matter what’s happened, and what has come between us, we have always found each other again.” Bradley nodded again, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards. His thumbs continued to trace shapes over the decades-old cotton.
“You have made my every victory a celebration, every hurdle a little easier to jump. But I was always scared.” His smile dropped, a slight frown replacing it. “I was scared of how dark it would feel to lose the way your-” You hesitated at the word, debating whether it was too powerful to use. The feel of his hands squeezing tenderly at your hips stirred your voice forward. “The way your care lights up my life.”
You finally let your chin fall, to break his piercing gaze and take a moment to collect yourself. “I have hidden myself in fear for too long. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“I love you.” The words froze you. Processing them was not an easy feat, even more so when you had not seen him speak them. You flitted your widened eyes back up at Bradley. He was staring at you in a way you never recognized before, though no different from how he’d regarded you all along. It was only now you could put a name to it.
“I love you,” Bradley said again, to prove to you both that he really had. “You have always been my home and my safe haven from everything I've gone through.” He released his soft grip on your hips to caress your face instead, thumbs swiping at the tears still falling from your eyes. “Your love lights up my life, too.”
so now i come to you, with open arms. nothing to hide: believe what i say. so here i am, with open arms, hoping you'll see what your love means to me.
🥺 i’m so glad you enjoyed!
open arms (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader)
for @roosterforme's 80's "Rocktober" Playlist Fic Challenge!
word count: ~2.6k
warnings: top gun: maverick spoilers, mention of death/funeral, general anxiety
song inspiration: open arms by journey
a/n: thank you so much to emily for this challenge! i truly have not felt so inspired to write in such a long time so this challenge was perfect for me. (my writing’s still a bit rusty, don’t get me wrong, but practice makes perfect eh?) all my love to you always, my favorite FAVORITE tg creator <3
lying beside you, here in the dark, feeling your heart beat with mine.
It was no longer a rarity that you ended up here, nestled beneath gently worn sheets against Bradley's side. Your shared breaths tangled in the air before finding a synchronized rhythm. His steady pulse thrummed against your ear as his hand traced lazily against your side. Silence had never felt so comfortable. And yet, each night you spent in each other's embrace, your mind wrestled with what this all meant.
You couldn't pop that bubble tonight, not when tomorrow meant Bradley would be seabound once again. The reminder of his departure had you nuzzling closer to him. Part of you wished you could sink into his skin somehow; to both stay at his side and shroud yourself from the muddled emotions you kept at bay. Bradley responded to your movement with a soft kiss to the top of your head and a contented sigh slipping past his lips.
How was so relaxed, not knowing what was to come of this deployment? It was equal parts inspiring and horrifying to see the stoicism he held for his work. You knew better than most how much it meant for him to follow in the footsteps of his father. The potential dangers would never outweigh the pride and passion he felt for flying. So instead, you sat to bear the brunt of the worry whenever he was sent off.
Shifting up slightly, you dared to find his face. His eyes sparkled in the streaks of moonlight seeping from the window. They were fixed on the ceiling as if he were deep in thought.
"What's on your mind?" Bradley did not shift his gaze to you just yet. Instead, he took in another deep breath, lifting his head along the way. His exhale was exasperated and furthered your concern. You sat up more, a hand trailing behind to cup his cheek. "Bradley?" you tried again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I would never judge you."
The eyes Bradley met you with were filled with uncertainty; and hesitation, too. If you had known any better, you would suspect his thoughts were mirroring your own. What are we? What is this? Do you feel the same as I do? What do we do about it? There were too many questions for too few hours left together. There was never enough time.
You had settled with the time you could share, the sunny days filled with laughter and the intimate nights that became second nature to you both. Any question of “more” was pushed further and further off the table with every assignment.
He gave you half a smile as he brushed your hair back from your face. "You're so sincere," he whispered. A light flush danced along your cheeks as you fought a shy smile. "You look out for me more than anyone. You always have."
"And you have for me, too," you reminded him.
we sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.
Naval life brought you and Bradley together. He was the son of the great and ill-fated Nick Bradshaw, while you were the daughter of the highly decorated admiral Tom Kazansky. Virginia was home to you both in the years of your youth and rarely did your mothers keep you apart as you grew. Bradley was your best friend, and him yours.
You supported him on his journey to the Navy: trained alongside him for his physicals and quizzed him on examination materials. It was in those same moments you first felt afraid, both of what could happen to him in service and what you felt blooming in your chest. Half of that fear was suspended when your Uncle Pete pulled Bradley’s papers from the naval academy. The other half buried itself deep down as you acted once again as a shoulder for the frustrations of your best friend.
The decades following saw you both through all the stages of life: college classes, breakups, graduations, careers, apartments. Though your contact waned and waxed along the way, your paths never failed to converge. Like when he was stationed in Connecticut while you were living there, or when you found him vacationing in Key West during a work trip.
Your path led you back to San Diego, once your parents based themselves there. Only weeks ago had you moved across the country to support them both as your father's condition worsened. They pushed you to take some nights for yourself, and the Hard Deck was an easy recommendation.
Despite the many twists of fate that had reunited you for years, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions you felt seeing Bradley there. You were fighting to catch a half-decent breath as your heart beat rapidly in your chest.
It wasn’t long before he spotted you. There was some sort of unspoken second sense you had for one another. After a warm hug and some quips from his squad mates, you two were sharing drinks and laughing together like always. It was as if no time had passed since your last serendipitous meeting. He asked about your life, and you asked about his. Your throat tightened at his reason for returning to TOP GUN, but you shoveled those feelings, like always.
They resurfaced at the closing of your father’s funeral. Your Uncle Pete took to escorting your mother away while you stood still as stone at the gravesite. All of the aviators in attendance had departed from the cemetery. All but one.
It was quiet, apart from the slight whistle of the air. You heard the careful padding of feet behind you but cared not to face the intruder. A hand along the small of your back was all you needed to know who had stayed behind. As your face scrunched up in sorrow, Bradley curled you against himself. He kept you guarded through your tears, murmuring every word of solace he thought of into your ear.
And when you urged you could not face the others in mourning, Bradley brought you to your hotel room. He held you through your grief for Tom, as you had held him through his for Carole. He promised that night to forever hold you in your hardest moments, and you shakily promised the same.
Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay: the loss of your father, the mission, and whatever came after. Through every peak and valley, it had always felt like that when Bradley was beside you.
living without you, living alone, this empty house feels so cold. wanting to hold you, wanting you near. how much i want to bring you home.
Housesitting seemed like a good idea in the moment. You had yet to find your own bearings on the West Coast as you kept your mother company in her grief. She was kind to open her home to you, yet you craved to return to the breadth of your independence. Crashing at an empty house gave you a taste of that.
It was a no-brainer to Bradley. By the time he had gotten his papers, you were his home’s most frequent guest. He trusted you more than anyone; though, he would never say as such to Nat. The younger lieutenant had already teased enough about her friend’s recovered friendship.
Pieces of that friendship were dotted around the house, you quickly discovered. You had tried your best to keep your mind away from it. The days not jammed with work assignments and housekeeping drew too long. No hobby or day trip could fill the void caving deep in your chest. Empty notification screens and inboxes tore it further apart.
You caved on the fifth week, finally diving into the details of the quaint beach house. Bradley had kept the memories of almost four decades perfectly preserved in so many ways. Virginia Beach carnival tickets from your teen years in a trinket box, a takeout menu from a diner in Connecticut stuffed into a desk drawer, an incredibly tacky Key West magnet hung on his fridge.
An entire photo album was dedicated to your shared Navy family: your aviator uncles and fathers, your mothers, and the pair of you. Faded tickets and receipts were pasted alongside the pictures of your years together once he had a mind for momentos. You felt your chest grow tighter at the thought that went into each page.
Five weeks had passed without a single word from him or any of the friends you now shared. You knew missions could be like this, your own father having gone AWOL for months on several different top-level occasions. And yet, it never left you feeling so empty before.
Bradley's room had stayed shut since he closed it before leaving. You had not dared to breach his privacy, despite his continual assurances that you could sleep in his bed while he was away.
“It’s practically our bed at this point, isn’t it?”
But the closeness was too much. You had needed to distance yourself from it, desperate to quiet the fright echoing in your mind. Now, you longed to drown yourself in the ghost of his presence.
Bradley had fixed up his things before leaving. Ever the neat freak, his floor was swept clean and his bedding was perfectly tucked. The only difference you spotted was a green woolen blanket peeking above one pillow.
Carole had gifted you that blanket. It had started as you needing it one night at her house and quickly became a regular borrowing occurrence. You only ever returned it when she was at her sickest. The hope was to provide her with the same compassion and encouragement she gave you as you grew up. After she passed, you didn’t think to ask where it ended up.
You clutched onto the material, desperate sobs shaking your body. Bradley had held onto it this whole time. He tucked it in safely where he had wanted you to be, to provide you the comfort you needed while he was preparing for a flight that held no guarantee of a safe return. Bradley Bradshaw was looking out for you again, just like he always had.
The weight of it all dawned on you as you lay cold as ever in that bed. How much you wished he would walk through the door, how much you yearned for the warmth of his body beside yours; how much you wished to tell him everything. In the light of your realization, nothing mattered more than the docking date just over the horizon.
but now that you've come back, turned night into day, i need you to stay.
You had wanted to go to the dock: to be the person Bradley bolted off of the ship to embrace, the one to welcome him home after weeks away. It was the silence that locked you in place. Not a single form of correspondence had reached you since he had departed. Frustration would be an easy crutch to rely on if you weren’t so riddled with fear.
Fear that your last kiss was on the front steps of his porch. Fear that you would never again hear his honeyed voice singing along to your radio. Fear that you had lost your one true companion in this life, past your ups and downs along the way.
Nat was making rounds to grab Jake, Bob, and Javy off of the carrier, anyway. “It’s no problem,” she had said when you called her not half an hour before you had been planning to leave. It was scribbled on your calendar, with a little heart that Bradley added on himself. Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stared at it.
You dreaded a knock on your door, accompanied by an officer wearing a sullen expression and desolate words that would blur in your ears. Or the sorrowful looks worn by his closest squad mates as they found you in the crowd of families and other loved ones awaiting their arrival.
The possibilities plagued any chance of restful sleep, that night above all the nights since his departure. Instead, you curled yourself against Bradley’s beat-up loveseat from college, eyes darting to the front door at every blare of headlights passing by.
The ungodly hour ticked on from the tacky bar clock on the wall: one of Goose’s favorite old house accessories. Draped around your shaky form was the blanket from Carole. Your father’s dog tags hung from your neck. Would you soon need memorabilia to remember Bradley by, too?
A soft creak of wood caught your attention, then another. Keys jingled at the front door as the lock began to turn. Tired from travels and anxious from his own arrival, Bradley trudged through the door with his bag in tow.
You barely contained your gasp, drawing his attention right to you as you lurched up from your seat. The duffel fell from his hand with a light thud on the floor. Not a second was wasted before you ran to embrace him. Bradley caught you instantly as you leaped into his open arms.
The tears you had restrained for hours fell freely into the fabric of his uniform. Your hands clung tightly around his neck, scared to ever let go.
“I’ve got you,” Bradley soothed as he felt the rush of your anxieties manifesting. “I’m right here, darlin’; I’m home.”
“I was s-so worried,” you hiccuped. “I-I didn’t hear anything, a-and I-”
“Shhh, I know. I know; I’m so sorry.” He walked you both back over to the loveseat. Falling against it, Bradley held you closer to him as his wind-chapped lips buried into your hair. A deep inhale drew you closer to his shoulder, the resulting exhale elevating you to the familiar beat of his heart.
Only a few moments passed before you began to push at his chest. He was quick to brace himself for you to sit upright in his lap. Your eyes scanning him were unreadable. Bradley rubbed the tops of your thighs, clad in his old UVA sweatpants, as he waited on you patiently.
The words were right there. They had burdened the tip of your tongue through almost every stage of your intertwined lives. No matter what the outcome would be, no excuse was great enough to keep them caged any longer. You were done keeping this final piece of yourself from the person who had already put together the rest.
“I was looking around here, while you were gone,” you sniffled. Bradley nodded as a gentle encouragement. He could read your apprehension as clear as day. Still, he would never force answers from you that you were not yet ready to give. He gave you soft and composed reassurances instead.
After taking a deep breath, you continued. “We’ve spent so much of our lives dancing around one another; our whole lives, even.” You fought to keep your eyes locked in his, despite the adrenaline beginning to race through your system. “And no matter what’s happened, and what has come between us, we have always found each other again.” Bradley nodded again, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards. His thumbs continued to trace shapes over the decades-old cotton.
“You have made my every victory a celebration, every hurdle a little easier to jump. But I was always scared.” His smile dropped, a slight frown replacing it. “I was scared of how dark it would feel to lose the way your-” You hesitated at the word, debating whether it was too powerful to use. The feel of his hands squeezing tenderly at your hips stirred your voice forward. “The way your care lights up my life.”
You finally let your chin fall, to break his piercing gaze and take a moment to collect yourself. “I have hidden myself in fear for too long. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“I love you.” The words froze you. Processing them was not an easy feat, even more so when you had not seen him speak them. You flitted your widened eyes back up at Bradley. He was staring at you in a way you never recognized before, though no different from how he’d regarded you all along. It was only now you could put a name to it.
“I love you,” Bradley said again, to prove to you both that he really had. “You have always been my home and my safe haven from everything I've gone through.” He released his soft grip on your hips to caress your face instead, thumbs swiping at the tears still falling from your eyes. “Your love lights up my life, too.”
so now i come to you, with open arms. nothing to hide: believe what i say. so here i am, with open arms, hoping you'll see what your love means to me.
🥹🥹 it’s one of my favorite songs ever because of the lyrics and i just felt so inspired by them! thank you again for this emily 🩷
open arms (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader)
for @roosterforme's 80's "Rocktober" Playlist Fic Challenge!
word count: ~2.6k
warnings: top gun: maverick spoilers, mention of death/funeral, general anxiety
song inspiration: open arms by journey
a/n: thank you so much to emily for this challenge! i truly have not felt so inspired to write in such a long time so this challenge was perfect for me. (my writing’s still a bit rusty, don’t get me wrong, but practice makes perfect eh?) all my love to you always, my favorite FAVORITE tg creator <3
lying beside you, here in the dark, feeling your heart beat with mine.
It was no longer a rarity that you ended up here, nestled beneath gently worn sheets against Bradley's side. Your shared breaths tangled in the air before finding a synchronized rhythm. His steady pulse thrummed against your ear as his hand traced lazily against your side. Silence had never felt so comfortable. And yet, each night you spent in each other's embrace, your mind wrestled with what this all meant.
You couldn't pop that bubble tonight, not when tomorrow meant Bradley would be seabound once again. The reminder of his departure had you nuzzling closer to him. Part of you wished you could sink into his skin somehow; to both stay at his side and shroud yourself from the muddled emotions you kept at bay. Bradley responded to your movement with a soft kiss to the top of your head and a contented sigh slipping past his lips.
How was so relaxed, not knowing what was to come of this deployment? It was equal parts inspiring and horrifying to see the stoicism he held for his work. You knew better than most how much it meant for him to follow in the footsteps of his father. The potential dangers would never outweigh the pride and passion he felt for flying. So instead, you sat to bear the brunt of the worry whenever he was sent off.
Shifting up slightly, you dared to find his face. His eyes sparkled in the streaks of moonlight seeping from the window. They were fixed on the ceiling as if he were deep in thought.
"What's on your mind?" Bradley did not shift his gaze to you just yet. Instead, he took in another deep breath, lifting his head along the way. His exhale was exasperated and furthered your concern. You sat up more, a hand trailing behind to cup his cheek. "Bradley?" you tried again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I would never judge you."
The eyes Bradley met you with were filled with uncertainty; and hesitation, too. If you had known any better, you would suspect his thoughts were mirroring your own. What are we? What is this? Do you feel the same as I do? What do we do about it? There were too many questions for too few hours left together. There was never enough time.
You had settled with the time you could share, the sunny days filled with laughter and the intimate nights that became second nature to you both. Any question of “more” was pushed further and further off the table with every assignment.
He gave you half a smile as he brushed your hair back from your face. "You're so sincere," he whispered. A light flush danced along your cheeks as you fought a shy smile. "You look out for me more than anyone. You always have."
"And you have for me, too," you reminded him.
we sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.
Naval life brought you and Bradley together. He was the son of the great and ill-fated Nick Bradshaw, while you were the daughter of the highly decorated admiral Tom Kazansky. Virginia was home to you both in the years of your youth and rarely did your mothers keep you apart as you grew. Bradley was your best friend, and him yours.
You supported him on his journey to the Navy: trained alongside him for his physicals and quizzed him on examination materials. It was in those same moments you first felt afraid, both of what could happen to him in service and what you felt blooming in your chest. Half of that fear was suspended when your Uncle Pete pulled Bradley’s papers from the naval academy. The other half buried itself deep down as you acted once again as a shoulder for the frustrations of your best friend.
The decades following saw you both through all the stages of life: college classes, breakups, graduations, careers, apartments. Though your contact waned and waxed along the way, your paths never failed to converge. Like when he was stationed in Connecticut while you were living there, or when you found him vacationing in Key West during a work trip.
Your path led you back to San Diego, once your parents based themselves there. Only weeks ago had you moved across the country to support them both as your father's condition worsened. They pushed you to take some nights for yourself, and the Hard Deck was an easy recommendation.
Despite the many twists of fate that had reunited you for years, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions you felt seeing Bradley there. You were fighting to catch a half-decent breath as your heart beat rapidly in your chest.
It wasn’t long before he spotted you. There was some sort of unspoken second sense you had for one another. After a warm hug and some quips from his squad mates, you two were sharing drinks and laughing together like always. It was as if no time had passed since your last serendipitous meeting. He asked about your life, and you asked about his. Your throat tightened at his reason for returning to TOP GUN, but you shoveled those feelings, like always.
They resurfaced at the closing of your father’s funeral. Your Uncle Pete took to escorting your mother away while you stood still as stone at the gravesite. All of the aviators in attendance had departed from the cemetery. All but one.
It was quiet, apart from the slight whistle of the air. You heard the careful padding of feet behind you but cared not to face the intruder. A hand along the small of your back was all you needed to know who had stayed behind. As your face scrunched up in sorrow, Bradley curled you against himself. He kept you guarded through your tears, murmuring every word of solace he thought of into your ear.
And when you urged you could not face the others in mourning, Bradley brought you to your hotel room. He held you through your grief for Tom, as you had held him through his for Carole. He promised that night to forever hold you in your hardest moments, and you shakily promised the same.
Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay: the loss of your father, the mission, and whatever came after. Through every peak and valley, it had always felt like that when Bradley was beside you.
living without you, living alone, this empty house feels so cold. wanting to hold you, wanting you near. how much i want to bring you home.
Housesitting seemed like a good idea in the moment. You had yet to find your own bearings on the West Coast as you kept your mother company in her grief. She was kind to open her home to you, yet you craved to return to the breadth of your independence. Crashing at an empty house gave you a taste of that.
It was a no-brainer to Bradley. By the time he had gotten his papers, you were his home’s most frequent guest. He trusted you more than anyone; though, he would never say as such to Nat. The younger lieutenant had already teased enough about her friend’s recovered friendship.
Pieces of that friendship were dotted around the house, you quickly discovered. You had tried your best to keep your mind away from it. The days not jammed with work assignments and housekeeping drew too long. No hobby or day trip could fill the void caving deep in your chest. Empty notification screens and inboxes tore it further apart.
You caved on the fifth week, finally diving into the details of the quaint beach house. Bradley had kept the memories of almost four decades perfectly preserved in so many ways. Virginia Beach carnival tickets from your teen years in a trinket box, a takeout menu from a diner in Connecticut stuffed into a desk drawer, an incredibly tacky Key West magnet hung on his fridge.
An entire photo album was dedicated to your shared Navy family: your aviator uncles and fathers, your mothers, and the pair of you. Faded tickets and receipts were pasted alongside the pictures of your years together once he had a mind for momentos. You felt your chest grow tighter at the thought that went into each page.
Five weeks had passed without a single word from him or any of the friends you now shared. You knew missions could be like this, your own father having gone AWOL for months on several different top-level occasions. And yet, it never left you feeling so empty before.
Bradley's room had stayed shut since he closed it before leaving. You had not dared to breach his privacy, despite his continual assurances that you could sleep in his bed while he was away.
“It’s practically our bed at this point, isn’t it?”
But the closeness was too much. You had needed to distance yourself from it, desperate to quiet the fright echoing in your mind. Now, you longed to drown yourself in the ghost of his presence.
Bradley had fixed up his things before leaving. Ever the neat freak, his floor was swept clean and his bedding was perfectly tucked. The only difference you spotted was a green woolen blanket peeking above one pillow.
Carole had gifted you that blanket. It had started as you needing it one night at her house and quickly became a regular borrowing occurrence. You only ever returned it when she was at her sickest. The hope was to provide her with the same compassion and encouragement she gave you as you grew up. After she passed, you didn’t think to ask where it ended up.
You clutched onto the material, desperate sobs shaking your body. Bradley had held onto it this whole time. He tucked it in safely where he had wanted you to be, to provide you the comfort you needed while he was preparing for a flight that held no guarantee of a safe return. Bradley Bradshaw was looking out for you again, just like he always had.
The weight of it all dawned on you as you lay cold as ever in that bed. How much you wished he would walk through the door, how much you yearned for the warmth of his body beside yours; how much you wished to tell him everything. In the light of your realization, nothing mattered more than the docking date just over the horizon.
but now that you've come back, turned night into day, i need you to stay.
You had wanted to go to the dock: to be the person Bradley bolted off of the ship to embrace, the one to welcome him home after weeks away. It was the silence that locked you in place. Not a single form of correspondence had reached you since he had departed. Frustration would be an easy crutch to rely on if you weren’t so riddled with fear.
Fear that your last kiss was on the front steps of his porch. Fear that you would never again hear his honeyed voice singing along to your radio. Fear that you had lost your one true companion in this life, past your ups and downs along the way.
Nat was making rounds to grab Jake, Bob, and Javy off of the carrier, anyway. “It’s no problem,” she had said when you called her not half an hour before you had been planning to leave. It was scribbled on your calendar, with a little heart that Bradley added on himself. Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stared at it.
You dreaded a knock on your door, accompanied by an officer wearing a sullen expression and desolate words that would blur in your ears. Or the sorrowful looks worn by his closest squad mates as they found you in the crowd of families and other loved ones awaiting their arrival.
The possibilities plagued any chance of restful sleep, that night above all the nights since his departure. Instead, you curled yourself against Bradley’s beat-up loveseat from college, eyes darting to the front door at every blare of headlights passing by.
The ungodly hour ticked on from the tacky bar clock on the wall: one of Goose’s favorite old house accessories. Draped around your shaky form was the blanket from Carole. Your father’s dog tags hung from your neck. Would you soon need memorabilia to remember Bradley by, too?
A soft creak of wood caught your attention, then another. Keys jingled at the front door as the lock began to turn. Tired from travels and anxious from his own arrival, Bradley trudged through the door with his bag in tow.
You barely contained your gasp, drawing his attention right to you as you lurched up from your seat. The duffel fell from his hand with a light thud on the floor. Not a second was wasted before you ran to embrace him. Bradley caught you instantly as you leaped into his open arms.
The tears you had restrained for hours fell freely into the fabric of his uniform. Your hands clung tightly around his neck, scared to ever let go.
“I’ve got you,” Bradley soothed as he felt the rush of your anxieties manifesting. “I’m right here, darlin’; I’m home.”
“I was s-so worried,” you hiccuped. “I-I didn’t hear anything, a-and I-”
“Shhh, I know. I know; I’m so sorry.” He walked you both back over to the loveseat. Falling against it, Bradley held you closer to him as his wind-chapped lips buried into your hair. A deep inhale drew you closer to his shoulder, the resulting exhale elevating you to the familiar beat of his heart.
Only a few moments passed before you began to push at his chest. He was quick to brace himself for you to sit upright in his lap. Your eyes scanning him were unreadable. Bradley rubbed the tops of your thighs, clad in his old UVA sweatpants, as he waited on you patiently.
The words were right there. They had burdened the tip of your tongue through almost every stage of your intertwined lives. No matter what the outcome would be, no excuse was great enough to keep them caged any longer. You were done keeping this final piece of yourself from the person who had already put together the rest.
“I was looking around here, while you were gone,” you sniffled. Bradley nodded as a gentle encouragement. He could read your apprehension as clear as day. Still, he would never force answers from you that you were not yet ready to give. He gave you soft and composed reassurances instead.
After taking a deep breath, you continued. “We’ve spent so much of our lives dancing around one another; our whole lives, even.” You fought to keep your eyes locked in his, despite the adrenaline beginning to race through your system. “And no matter what’s happened, and what has come between us, we have always found each other again.” Bradley nodded again, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards. His thumbs continued to trace shapes over the decades-old cotton.
“You have made my every victory a celebration, every hurdle a little easier to jump. But I was always scared.” His smile dropped, a slight frown replacing it. “I was scared of how dark it would feel to lose the way your-” You hesitated at the word, debating whether it was too powerful to use. The feel of his hands squeezing tenderly at your hips stirred your voice forward. “The way your care lights up my life.”
You finally let your chin fall, to break his piercing gaze and take a moment to collect yourself. “I have hidden myself in fear for too long. I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“I love you.” The words froze you. Processing them was not an easy feat, even more so when you had not seen him speak them. You flitted your widened eyes back up at Bradley. He was staring at you in a way you never recognized before, though no different from how he’d regarded you all along. It was only now you could put a name to it.
“I love you,” Bradley said again, to prove to you both that he really had. “You have always been my home and my safe haven from everything I've gone through.” He released his soft grip on your hips to caress your face instead, thumbs swiping at the tears still falling from your eyes. “Your love lights up my life, too.”
so now i come to you, with open arms. nothing to hide: believe what i say. so here i am, with open arms, hoping you'll see what your love means to me.
as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)
word count: ~3.7k
synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.
warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator
a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!
As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.
He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.
"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.
"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.
It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.
"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.
"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.
His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.
"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.
"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.
Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.
He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.
What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?
-
Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.
You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.
"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.
"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"
"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"
Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.
Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-
"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.
"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.
Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"
You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"
"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.
"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."
Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.
"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."
Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.
Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.
The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"
You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.
"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"
An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."
He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"
The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.
"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.
You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.
The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.
But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.
Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.
He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?
"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.
"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."
Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.
Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"
You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.
Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.
Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.
He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.
"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.
Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.
Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?
As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.
His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.
Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"
"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"
Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.
"Whoa.. where did that come from?"
Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.
He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.
"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.
Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.
His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.
You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"
It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.
"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."
And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."
Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.
"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"
"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."
Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.
Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."
He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.
That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?
"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.
Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."
The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."
You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.
"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.
His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.
"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."
Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.
"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.
-
a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3
tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25
in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)
word count: ~1.5k
synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.
warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)
a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.
bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops
The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.
Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.
There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.
Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.
Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo
Pathetic. Delete.
Me: Is this just a sex thing?
Abrasive. Delete.
You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.
Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?
Here we go.
You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?
Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.
Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?
Oh god.
You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.
His car always felt musty anyway.
You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!
It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.
A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.
Flyboy: Here!
You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.
All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.
"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.
"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.
There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.
Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.
But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.
Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.
You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.
Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?
"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"
You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.
Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.
The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.
He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.
Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"
What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-
"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."
What?
Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.
He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."
A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.
You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"
Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.
So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."
tags: @avengersfan25
incredibly bradley coded! this was written very much from my own experience, reworked to end favorably, but the racing thoughts were something i always wanted to include. it’s really easy to get lost on that train when you aren’t getting the proper reassurance to stop you in your tracks. but bradley recognized he had faltered in it and immediately corrected himself 🥺
in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)
word count: ~1.5k
synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.
warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)
a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.
bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops
The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.
Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.
There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.
Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.
Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo
Pathetic. Delete.
Me: Is this just a sex thing?
Abrasive. Delete.
You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.
Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?
Here we go.
You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?
Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.
Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?
Oh god.
You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.
His car always felt musty anyway.
You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!
It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.
A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.
Flyboy: Here!
You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.
All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.
"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.
"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.
There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.
Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.
But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.
Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own. You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.
Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing?
"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"
You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.
Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.
The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.
He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.
Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"
What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-
"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."
What?
Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.
He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."
A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted there was any silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a final chapter.
You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"
Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you soothed his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. But he now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person who needed to hear it most.
So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."
tags: @avengersfan25
“I love how you write Bradley” bringing literal tears to my eyes because that is the sweetest thing i have ever heard. it’s a mix of how i’ve perceived him through the movie and, honest to god, the type of man i wish i had in my life. i pour my heart and soul into my writings for him, so hearing this means a lot 🥹
in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)
word count: ~1.5k
synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.
warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)
a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.
bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops
The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.
Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.
There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.
Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.
Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo
Pathetic. Delete.
Me: Is this just a sex thing?
Abrasive. Delete.
You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.
Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?
Here we go.
You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?
Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.
Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?
Oh god.
You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.
His car always felt musty anyway.
You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!
It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.
A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.
Flyboy: Here!
You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.
All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.
"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.
"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.
There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.
Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.
But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.
Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.
You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.
Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?
"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"
You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.
Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.
The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.
He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.
Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"
What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-
"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."
What?
Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.
He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."
A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.
You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"
Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.
So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."
tags: @avengersfan25
Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger
Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.
His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.
There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.
Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.
Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.
Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.
It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.
Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.
Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.
He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.
There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.
Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.
This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.
"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.
My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?
This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.
He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.
I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.
"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.
Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.
Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.
Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.
Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.
Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?
Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.
Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.
Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.
I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.
On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.
Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.
Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.
And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.
Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?
He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.
That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?
He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.
Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.
"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.
He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.
What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.
It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.
Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?
"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.
No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.
He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.
When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.
Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.
"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.
How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?
Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.
Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?
"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.
Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.
Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.
Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?
Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.
My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.
He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.
Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.
Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.
He texted you back.
Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.
With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.
CALL FROM Pretty Girl
Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."
A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"
He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"
When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."
Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.
"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."
Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."
Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"
Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"
"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."
"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."
Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."
If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"
"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"
Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."
Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."
He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."
You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."
"Just okay?"
"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."
Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."
"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"
He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.
"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.
"Totally naked."
"Fuck."
"Send me another one?"
"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.
Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.
"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."
He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"
The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."
A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."
You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."
Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."
You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."
"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."
"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."
"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.
"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"
"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."
Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"
"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."
--------------------------
It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."
Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"
You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.
"Yeah. It's Rooster."
Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."
"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.
You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.
And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.
You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.
You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.
As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.
Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.
"Pretty Girl."
Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.
And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.
When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."
Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.
"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."
"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.
"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."
You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."
He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."
-------------------------
I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Your hands slightly shake as you walk into the Hard Deck. Bradley has asked you to meet him there to introduce you to the others. Your eyes immediately begin searching for him through the crowd of aviators and you make a beeline towards him when you finally spot his tall frame.
“Bradley,” you call out. He turns around and flashes you a bright grin. “Hey honey,” he responds while wrapping his arms around you. He’s the first one to pull away to get the attention of the others. They turn their heads toward you and Rooster, their eyes landing on you quickly.
“Everyone, this is my partner Y/N.” You send them a small wave and nervous smile. The one you assume is Jake walks over and introduces himself. You can feel Bradley tense up and gently take his hand in yours, softly running your thumb over his knuckles. The others quickly come up after Jake and start introducing themselves.
After the introductions finish, you find yourself in a conversation with Hangman and Phoenix. Bradley is playing a game with Fanboy, so he can’t join the conversation. Hangman and Phoenix are quick to tell you embarrassing stories of your boyfriend from when they were on deployments together which causes you to giggle. You feel Bradley’s eyes glance over at the three of you and you send him a bright smile. He finishes the game and walks over to you, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.
“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” He asks. You giggle and bring your hand up to rest on his chest. “Hangman and Phoenix are just telling me some stories from some of your deployments.” He groans and his face flushes pink. You laugh and kiss his cheek.
The rest of Bradley’s friends join the conversation. You spend the next few hours with them, swapping stories and getting to know each other. Bradley watches you quietly with a soft smile, occasionally kissing your hand, earning a kiss on the cheek in return. Eventually, everyone starts to head home and the conversations start to die out.
You and Bradley are the second to last out of the group to leave. The two of you share your goodbyes with Jake before heading out.
“Did you have fun tonight?” He asks on the drive home. “I did. Everyone was super nice and welcoming” you respond with a smile. He softly grabs your hand and kisses it, making your smile widen. “I love you honey.” “I love you, too sweetheart.”
By the time you got home, both of you were ready for bed. Neither of you wasted time before getting into pajamas and climbing into bed, falling asleep soon after.