Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Wedding Day - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Third Person POV Focused on Rooster, Reader - only description is that reader is a woman, No Y/N

Summary: It's Bradley's wedding day and he can't wait to see his wife.

The Bradshaw wedding was a very long-awaited event for everyone involved. They had been engaged for about three years now, but there was a very good reason for delaying the actual wedding itself for so long.

And that was the arrival of one Caroline Bradshaw, who just happened to be born roughly nine months after her parents actually got engaged. So, you can do the math. They certainly did when they found out about their little surprise.

But the wedding was finally here and they were finally going to get married.

Rooster, dressed in his dress whites, followed the photographer’s instructions and stood on the end of the porch, facing the ocean. They were already at the ceremony venue, but Rooster had not seen a single second of his fiancée during the entire morning.

But now it was time for the first look and he couldn’t wait to see his fiancée in her white dress.

He didn’t want to spoil anything for himself. He always walked away or made some noise to try and change the subject when anything about the wedding dress was talked about in his presence. But ever since he found out that Hangman somehow already saw the dress, Rooster was antsy.

After all, she was going to be his wife. Not Hangman’s. And not anyone else’s either.

“Alright, you can turn around,” the photographer called out.

Rooster turned around, expecting to see his soon-to-be wife standing there in all her glory, but instead his eyes dropped down to the little girl in a blush pink dress trotting towards him. He let out a stunned gasp and bent down to greet his daughter.

“Hey, Baby,” he cooed, pulling his daughter in for a hug. “Oh, you look so pretty in your dress. Can you do a twirl for Daddy?”

“Yeah!” Caroline called, jumping around to show off her dress.

“Aw, you’re so beautiful in your dress, Care,” Rooster praised, picking her up and setting her on his hip. “Did you get ready with Mommy?”

Caroline nodded, playing with the medals pinned to Rooster’s dress whites. Rooster, even though he assumed that one of the bridesmaids was going to have a problem with it, pulled his hat off his head and placed it on top of Caroline’s before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“How’s Mommy doing, huh?”

“Good,” Caroline held out, grabbing Rooster’s collar to steady herself. “But it’s a secret!”

“A secret?” Rooster repeated, causing Caroline to nod furiously. “Oh, well, I don’t want you to get in trouble with Mommy.”

“Nope!” Caroline agreed, to which Rooster laughed and pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, Baby,” Rooster praised his daughter again. “You ready to walk down the aisle with all the petals like your Aunt Penny showed you?”

“Yeah,” Caroline giggled as Rooster nuzzled his nose into her cheek.

“God, I can’t wait to see your reaction on her wedding day,” Hangman commented, walking up to the father and daughter.

“You say that again and I’ll throw you in with the sharks, Bagman,” Rooster replied, dead serious as he hugged his daughter protectively to his chest.

“Noted. So, there’s a small change in plans. There was some issue with the dress and the future Mrs. Bradshaw needs some more time to get ready, so you’ll just have to wait until the actual ceremony to see her.”

“Is everything okay?” Rooster asked worriedly.

“Penny told me that everything is under control and I trust Penny, so I’m sure it’s handled.”

“Alright,” Rooster agreed, nodding along. “Well, then we better get to the ceremony.”

Thirty minutes later, Rooster stood at the front of the chapel, waiting patiently for his fiancée to arrive and walk down the aisle. Caroline already did her part and was happily sitting on Maverick’s lap, playing with her small bouquet.

But then the bridal suite started up and everyone rose to their feet. The doors opened and Rooster took one look at his soon-to-be wife and immediately started bawling. Holding a hand over his mouth to try and stop his lips from wobbling, Rooster couldn’t help how his body shook with absolute joy as the love of his life walked down the aisle to him.

The dress was everything that he pictured and more and frankly she could have been wearing a table cloth or a potato sack and he still would have married her right then and there with no questions asked. And when they locked eyes and he saw that she was smiling at him, hell, he nearly melted into the floor right then and there.

“Hey,” she greeted him softly, taking his hand and stepping up.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster choked out, absolutely radiating love and joy.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she joked, trying to not burst out into tears herself.

They managed to get through the ceremony without too many more tears, even after Caroline trotted up with the rings. They held hands and faced each other with glowing smiles as the officiant finally declared them as a married couple.

“I know declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

And Rooster didn’t waste any time in gathering his wife—that’s right, his wife—into his arms and planting an emotional kiss on her lips. If he didn't pull back with a matching shade of her lipstick, he was going to be disappointed in himself. Cheers echoed around the chapel as the newlyweds pulled away from each other.

Waving at the crowd of their friends and family, the newlyweds made their way back down the aisle, holding hands and absolutely radiating joy. While their guests headed to the reception hall, the two of them posed for some more wedding photos.

“So, there was a problem with your dress this morning?” Rooster asked his wife, who smiled softly.

“Oh, yeah. I had to wait to get into it.”

“Why?”

“Well, I had to wait for my maid of honor to return with some pregnancy tests and—”

Rooster whipped around to face his wife with wide eyes. He nearly tripped over the grass and went tumbling, but she held him up, just like she did when she told him the first time.

“You’re serious?” Rooster asked her, holding her hips and sliding his hand around to her belly that wasn’t even there yet. “You’re pregnant?”

“That’s what the tests say,” she told her husband—that’s right, her husband.

And the wedding photographer made sure to get plenty of shots of that series of happy, tear-filled kisses for their wedding album. 

The Purrfect Storm | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley inadvertently becomes a pet owner after he hits a stray with his Bronco. When he meets a lovely vet tech who is willing to help, both Bradley and the cat fall for her instantly.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, a bit of angst

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for a request! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was on his way home late from work, anxious to get there before the sky opened up. Dark, ominous clouds had just moved in, signaling a rare downpour was about to hit San Diego.

He zipped along an empty, wooded side street just as a loud crack of thunder rocked his Bronco. Then his headlights caught something gray dashing out of the trees, and he tried his best to swerve, but he was afraid he had just hit an animal. 

"Damn it," he muttered, pulling over and turning on his hazard lights. He jumped out of the Bronco to see if he could spot anything in the roadway. The wind was picking up, and he could feel the first few drops of rain, but as soon as Bradley saw the gray cat that was no longer able to walk correctly, he ran toward it. 

When he got closer he saw a little bit of blood matted in its fur, and he immediately felt like a villain. He also had no idea how to take care of an injured cat. 

"Here kitty?" he said awkwardly as he approached the immobile animal. He was greeted with a loud, angry meow. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I hit you. But can you just be chill while I pick you up?"

As soon as he had both hands around the middle of the cat, it sank its sharp teeth into the back of his hand.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Bradley yelled, getting pelted with more raindrops. "I'm trying to help you now, you ungrateful little shit!"

Big, angry yellow eyes looked up at him as he clamped the cat's mouth shut with one big hand and then tried to scoop it up again. This seemed to work better, so he carted it back to the Bronco and set it on the back seat floor area. 

"Just relax, I know where there's a veterinary clinic," he told it with an eye roll before he climbed back in and pulled away. 

Bradley navigated a lot slower now that the rain was coming down. But when he pulled into the clinic parking lot, he only saw one light on inside. There was someone moving around at the front desk, so he hopped out into the pouring rain and gently held the cat with its mouth closed. He knocked on the door with his knuckle and watched the woman behind the front desk look at him a little warily before she headed toward the door.

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

You were alone in the clinic with the door locked, trying to finish the weekly audit so you could leave. You always stayed late on Thursday nights, and now you were going to have to drive home in this crazy storm. 

When you heard someone knocking on the door, you jumped in your seat. You tried to see who it was, but the rain was obscuring the window portion of the door, so you made your way over only to find a soaking wet man in a naval uniform holding a drenched cat.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," you told him loudly through the door.

He glared at the cat and then tilted his head back and let the rain pour on his face for a beat. Finally he groaned and looked at you with pleading eyes. "You can't do anything? I hit this cat on my way home from work!"

You sighed and looked at all of his insignia pins, including his nametag. Bradshaw. It was pretty unlikely that an officer was here to murder you, especially since a good portion of your clients were naval families. Plus, he had actually brought the injured animal here instead of leaving it in the road.

"I can take a quick look," you told him as you unlocked the door. When you opened it and finally got a good look at him, you went a little speechless. He was really tall and really muscular. And even with his brown hair wet and messy across his forehead, you could tell he was really handsome. "Come on in," you managed to say, and he slipped inside with the cat. You locked the door behind him.

"Thanks. I really appreciate this. I feel terrible enough about what happened, but this cat hates me so much right now, I'd be a little afraid to take it to my house with me in this condition."

You laughed as he winced at you, and you immediately noticed the teeth marks on the back of his hand. 

"Oh, he got you good," you remarked. "Definitely doesn't like you too much at the moment. Let's see if I can get him patched up."

"It's a male?" officer Bradshaw asked as you signalled for him to follow you back to an exam room. 

"Yeah, I figured he was, because he's huge. But he definitely is. I could tell when you held him up."

Bradley scoffed. "I should have known. Females are usually more accommodating towards me."

You laughed softly and said, "I'll bet they are," under your breath. But then you realized that you were the sucker who agreed to let him get his cat checked out after hours. So you definitely shouldn't be surprised.

"Up on the table," you instructed, and you watched him release the cat and take a huge step away from it. "Aww, come on. He's a sweetheart!" you said, stroking the cat and making him purr. "What did he ever do to you?"

You watched officer Bradshaw hold up his bloody hand with a bland look. 

"That's totally fair since you ran him over," you said with a smirk. "And I'll look at your hand after I see how much damage there is to his leg here."

"Thank you," he muttered, reaching for a paper towel to press against his hand while he dripped water all over the floor. "I appreciate it. I'm Bradley, by the way."

You glanced at him briefly and smiled as you told him your name. "And what's the cat's name?"

Bradley just shrugged. "He doesn't have a collar, and he's pretty grungy. He's probably a stray."

"You should name him then," you said as you felt around the cat's leg with gentle fingers. It was a pretty clean break that you would be able to take care of tonight without the vet here.

"Sunshine," Bradley said sarcastically. "His name is Sunshine." You looked up at him, and he was smiling at you and the cat, his handsome features betraying his stern voice as he smiled.

"Did you hear that, Sunshine? Your daddy clearly thinks the world of you, and he's going to take the best care of your leg after I splint it."

"I am?" he asked, leaning closer to you. "Come on, doc. I can't keep this cat. He'll kill me in my sleep," he reiterated, holding up his hand and the bloody paper towel. He wasn't wearing a ring.

You laughed at the concerned look on his face. "Okay, first of all, I'm not the vet. I'm just a tech. Second, someone needs to take care of Sunshine, and I think that someone is going to be you. And third, girls dig guys who have pets. Does that help make this more appealing for you?" 

He took another step closer to you, and your breath caught in your throat. He was just a few inches away and glaring playfully at you. "First of all, you seem to know what you're doing well enough, so you could have lied and told me you were the vet. Second, Sunshine here will have me sleeping with one eye open. And third, yeah, maybe that does make this more appealing to me."

Your belly swooped, and you had to bite your lip. His brown eyes were the color of deep amber up close, and his mustache made everything he said seem more playful. 

"And fourth," he added, "do all women dig men who have pets? Or are you speaking from personal preference here? Either way, it does sound appealing to me."

You were gaping at him now, and a startled laugh escaped your parted lips. 

Meow!

"Sorry, Sunshine," you told the cat, patting his matted, damp fur until he was calm again. "You're right. This is about you, not Bradley." You positioned yourself in front of the cat and grinned over your shoulder. "I think it's all women, but it's definitely me," you whispered with a smile. You were met with a crooked grin as Bradley pushed his damp hair back from his face. 

"Good to know," he told you softly.

And now it was time to get to work. You made a mental list of all of the supplies you would need, then you turned to Bradley and reached for his good hand. He grabbed onto yours without hesitation. "Here, keep a hand on Sunshine and make sure he stays on the table," you said, running your thumb along his calloused fingers. 

"Alright," he said a bit reluctantly, squeezing your hand before letting go of you and holding the cat.

"I'll be right back with everything I need for the splint."

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

Bradley watched you leave the small room, and he took a second to breathe in deeply and let it out slowly. You were fucking adorable. And he was very attracted to you. 

"Don't mess this up for us now," he told the cat as he waited for you to return. By the sound of things, the storm was still raging outside, but Bradley was in no hurry to leave anyway. He was still wet from the rain, and he probably looked like a mess, but it didn't matter. He'd stay here all night with you if you'd let him.

You strolled back into the room with some bandages, splints, and a weird thing covered in velcro. "This will only take a minute," you told him and Sunshine with a smile. He watched you measure the split against the cat's leg before cutting it to length. Then you set the bone in place with your fingers, gently talking the whole time so the cat would stay calm. Next you quickly wrapped the splint up tight with the bandage. 

"Now I need your help," you told Bradley, and you took his hand again. "Hold this bandage just like that so I can clip it in place." 

Bradley did exactly as he was told, and soon you were wrapping the velcro around everything to keep the cat's leg in one position. 

"Done!"

"Impressive," Bradley remarked. Even the cat looked way calmer now as he curled up on the exam table and ate the snack you gave him.

"Okay, now let me check you out," you said, holding out your small hand and letting him rest his palm against yours. "I'll need to clean it to get a better look," you told him, gazing up at him. "Might sting a bit."

"I can handle it," he reassured you as you led him to the sink. 

"I'm sure you can... Lieutenant? Is that what I'm looking at here?" you asked, nodding to the pins on his chest as you sprayed his hand with an antiseptic and dabbed at it with a cotton ball. 

"Yes, ma'am. Lieutenant Bradshaw," he told you, earning a smile.

"At ease, sailor." Your gaze was playful as you looked up at him and grabbed a clean cotton ball.

"Aviator, actually," Bradley informed you. 

"Oh, wow. Your daddy is fancy," you said over your shoulder to the cat who was now grooming himself on the exam table. 

"I still can't believe I have a cat now," he muttered, making you laugh as you taped some sterile gauze to the back of his hand. "You should give me your number since I don't know what I'm doing. You know... just in case. You wouldn't want Sunshine to suffer in any way, would you?"

You smirked up at him as you finished taping him up. Bradley just gave you his most innocent look in return. "You're something else," you told him.

"Something good?" he asked, and he watched your lips curl into a soft smile.

A loud rumble of thunder had Sunshine standing up and hissing. "It's okay," you told him, turning to reach for him, but then the power went out, bathing everything in complete darkness.

Bradley heard a thump that sounded like Sunshine had jumped off the table, and when he reached out, the cat was no longer there. 

"Oh no, he's loose somewhere in the building," you said, taking out your phone and turning on the flashlight. "Sunshine!" you called, shaking the bag of cat treats. Bradley followed you out into the hallway, but he bumped into the back of you.

"Sorry," he said, stopping himself with his hands on your shoulders. 

"It's okay," you said softly as he took his hands away from you and tucked them into his wet pockets. 

"Can he hurt anything? Or get hurt?" Bradley asked, looking up and down the hallway as you shone the light around. 

"Aww, you sound like a concerned pet parent."

Bradley groaned. "He's growing on me, I think."

Your laughter rang out in the semi-darkness before the light went out. 

"Shit, my phone died," you told him.

Bradley checked his only to find he had about ten percent of his battery left. "Mine is not far behind yours."

"Don't use it, just in case we need to call someone," you said, turning to face him. Bradley could feel your hands on his chest very briefly. "Oh, there you are," you said softly. "Come with me to the waiting room, and I'll get you some towels."

Bradley felt your fingers dance down along his arm until they tangled with his. Then you were leading him back to the front of the building. It was a little easier to see up here, as a streetlight outside provided some light. 

"Don't move," you instructed softly, and Bradley could make out the shape of your profile as you turned away from him and disappeared. 

He was stuck here now. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or upset. But he couldn't leave Sunshine loose in the clinic for the night. And he supposed you were stuck here too, since you couldn't leave him here alone with his dumb cat.

Bradley saw you in the shadows when you returned. "I got you some towels and a set of scrubs you can change into. My boss is about your size."

"Thanks," he replied, taking everything from your hands. "Where should I change?"

You laughed. "It doesn't matter. I can't see you."

"What if the power comes back on?!" 

You laughed harder, and Bradley loved the sound. "Go back behind my desk, and I'll turn around."

Bradley took a few steps and then slammed into a file cabinet. "Ow!"

"Oh sorry, don't hit the file cabinet," you said in a sweet voice laced with laughter. 

"Don't worry. I won't." Bradley awkwardly stripped out of his damp uniform and underwear with you standing ten feet away from him. He had to peel the fabric from his skin and hang it over your chair as neatly as he could. 

"So you're an aviator. What do you fly? Super Hornets? Helicopters? Comanches?" you asked as he ran one of the towels along his naked body. 

"You know a lot about naval aircrafts. And to answer your question, Super Hornet." He slipped into the well worn scrubs and tied them up at the waist. They were a little snug, as was the shirt, but it was better than being wet. 

"It's hard to live near Fightertown and not pick up on a few things," you told him. "You need help getting back around the file cabinet?"

"Nah, I'm good," he said, and somehow he found your hand in the darkness. And somehow you let him hold it. 

You laced your fingers with his and softly said, "Maybe we should try to find Sunshine one more time? Otherwise, I think we're stuck here for the night."

Bradley silently prayed that Sunshine was tucked safely away somewhere he couldn't be found in the dark. "That's a good idea," he confirmed out loud. Because he did feel kind of bad making you stay at your workplace all night, especially since he barged in on you unannounced with the cat. "I'm sorry I've been such an inconvenience when you were just trying to be helpful."

"Don't worry about it. I'm a sucker for injured animals. And brunettes."

Jesus. Bradley had been afraid maybe you had a boyfriend or something. But now you were flirting with him again, just like you had been earlier. You were also holding his hand a little tighter. And each time you wanted to change directions, you placed your other palm on his chest. 

"This is kind of fun," he murmured when you had your palm on his chest, guiding him into a different exam room. 

"Is it?" you asked with a giggle. 

"Yeah," he said, smiling as you pushed him where you wanted him to go. "It feels like one of those games from when you were in high school, you know? Spending time alone with a cute girl in the dark."

He could hear you exhale and feel it against his neck. You were so close to him. "Seven minutes in heaven?" you asked close to his ear. 

"Yeah, seven minutes in heaven," he confirmed, grinning like a lunatic.

"I never played that in high school," you told him, letting go of his chest to feel around the exam table for the cat. "Did you?" He felt your palm come to rest on him again. 

"Once or twice. But I was a real nerd back then. I just made it further with you than I ever did in high school," he admitted. Your soft laughter filled the room, and now Bradley was praying in earnest that Sunshine was very, very well hidden until the morning. 

"I find it hard to believe you used to be a nerd. You're very...."

"I'm very what?" he asked as you effortlessly lured him all around the dark clinic with you. 

"Sizeable," you told him as you ended up back in the hallway again.

"Sizeable?" he balked. "Did you just call me large?"

You were laughing again, and he really wished he could see your face right now. "I meant it as a compliment!" you insisted. 

"Ohhh," he said, feigning ignorance. "You must have never given someone a compliment before. Here, let me show you how. You're funny, smart, and very cute."

"Thank you," you whispered, leading him into one more exam room. 

"I wasn't done yet. You're also surprisingly good at navigating in the dark."

You laughed again, and your hand landed on his chest, but this time it was because you tripped and ended up pushing him up against the wall. 

"I take that back, you're terrible at navigating in the dark," he whispered, keeping his fingers laced with yours and steadying you with his other hand at your waist. "Are you okay?" 

This time your breathy laugh was very close to him. "You know, I was going to pretend I tripped on your cat, but I think you've just got me flustered. It's a good thing you're so sizeable, otherwise you might be splinting my leg right now."

Bradley felt your hand move up to the scars on his neck, and your fingers danced to his ear and up into his hair. He guided you a little closer so your entire body was skimming against his, and he could hear your breath hitch. 

"Yeah, it's a good thing," he agreed. His eyes fluttered closed in the dark, and he instinctively found your lips with his. One chaste kiss led to another and another, your lips brushing his. You parted your lips just enough to tease his bottom lip as your fingers gently pulled through his messy hair, and Bradley felt you melt into him. His heart was beating faster now, and he wanted to push you up against the wall.

Meow!

You gently released his lips, rubbing your nose against his as you took a small step away from him. Bradley quickly laced his fingers with yours again and cleared his throat.

"That didn't sound like Sunshine," Bradley said, trying to keep you as close as possible. He sighed in relief as your palm found its way to his chest again.

"It wasn't," you whispered. "There's a cat in a kennel in the back room. Let's go check on her."

So Bradley followed your lead to the end of the hallway, his heart still beating a little fast. 

"This is Ginger," you told him, guiding him over to a large cage. He could barely make out the cat inside with the scant light coming through the window. 

"What's wrong with her?" Bradley asked, kneeling down to get a better look. 

You sighed, never releasing his hand. "Her owner, if you can even call him that, didn't bring her here in time after she had a broken leg. You're really a very good pet daddy to Sunshine, even though you are clearly reluctant." You squeezed his hand. 

"What's going to happen to Ginger?" he asked, reaching his fingers through the cage to pet her fur. She meowed and nudged his fingers with her head. 

"Not sure yet. Her owner won't sign the paperwork for us to re break and try to set her leg correctly. He also won't agree to pay for medical care. I tried to kidnap her, but my boss wouldn't let me."

Bradley gave the cat one last scratch and stood up. "What if I steal her, and you pretend like you have no idea what happened to her?"

You giggled again and pulled him closer to you. "Oh, I like that idea. I also like the idea of you having two cats. That's adorable."

Bradley was grinning in the darkness. "I like being adorable."

You just hummed and whispered, "I think we're stuck here for the night." He could feel your breath on his neck again. "There's a loveseat in the breakroom. One of us can sleep on that."

"You take it. I can sleep on the floor."

You started to lead him in the direction of the breakroom, but it was very dark in there. He could barely see anything. 

"Maybe we could share it?" you asked so softly, Bradley was afraid he might have misheard.

"Okay....we can share it," he replied, and he sat down hard as you guided him over to the small sofa. His heart was beating a little faster again as he blindly tried to move the loose pillow against the armrest, and then he was reaching for you.

You were laughing softly. "How do you want to do this?"

Bradley's heart was hammering now. He wanted to kiss you again. "However you want." With a palm against his chest, you pushed him back against the pillow on the armrest, and he stretched himself out on his back across the loveseat. It was uncomfortable, and his feet were hanging way off the far end, but as soon as you eased yourself down against him, everything felt perfect.

"Is this okay?" you asked next to his ear as you kind of wedged yourself up against the back of the loveseat with your body halfway on top of his. Your chest was pressing against his, and Bradley could feel your leg come to rest between his knees. 

"Yes," he managed, his voice coming out raspier. "Is this okay?" he asked, wrapping his hand around your waist. 

You answered with a soft hum and let your palm rest against his chest like you had been doing all night. Oh no. He liked you. This felt too good, and Bradley probably wouldn't make it through the night with his heart intact. But he let you snuggle up against him in the pitch black room.

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

You weren't really sure if this was a good idea, but your night had taken a turn for the better when Bradley and Sunshine arrived, so you decided to just go with it. 

"Are you comfy?" you asked him, and you felt the deep rumble of his voice against your cheek and hand.

"Very. Are you warm enough?" 

If anything, you were too warm, pressed up against him like this. His body temperature was hot, and so was he. Bradley had managed to get you pretty giddy by this point, after sharing just a few kisses. The thing you couldn't understand was how comfortable you felt with him already. You'd just met him, and now you were both spending the night in the clinic together, but you weren't nervous or wary of him. 

"I'm beginning to think Sunshine premeditated this whole thing," he told you with a soft laugh. "Because I've been looking for a while, and I've never met anyone like you."

You bit your lip and angled your face toward his. "What does that mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

You could feel his hand tighten a little bit on your waist at your use of his rank. "It means I like you. A lot. And I'm desperately trying not to be creepy, because we're kind of stuck here together since the power is out and we can't find my cat, but I'm hoping you like me too."

In an instant, you let your lips connect with his again as you eased yourself a bit further up his body. As your fingers stroked along his cheek and up into his hair, you pulled your lips away from his and said, "I do." 

But as soon as the words were out of your mouth, Bradley was luring your lips back to his lips. He was so big and strong, but his kisses were soft, and his hands were undemanding against your lower back. He let you take the lead, never making you feel like you were trapped on the loveseat with him.

So you let yourself indulge in the sensation of his mustache against your skin and his legs tangled with yours. When you tugged your fingers through his hair, he groaned softly into your mouth, and you smiled against his lips. 

"Are you going to let me have your number?" he asked as you pulled away a few inches to catch your breath. 

You pressed your lips to his cheek and said, "Probably."

"Damn, what do I have to do to get a solid yes?" he asked, and you could tell he was smiling. 

"Tell me more about yourself," you whispered.

"I can do that," Bradley replied, running the tip of his nose along your cheek. So he told you all about his job, which sounded extremely exciting. He didn't tell you much about his family, other than he was pretty much alone. And he told you about his friends, who all sounded like a riot. 

"Sounds like you only have one thing missing in your life," you whispered against his neck.

"A girlfriend?" he asked, brushing his lips against your forehead. 

You had to bite your lip to keep from squealing. "I was going to say a cat," you told him. 

"Nah, Sunshine already took care of that, wherever he is. Tell me about you."

Bradley asked all the right questions at all the right times as you told him about yourself. He didn't think it was weird that you had a deaf, three-legged dog. He seemed to like that you volunteered at the animal shelter. And he invited you to get a drink with him at some bar called the Hard Deck tomorrow night. 

You yawned and snuggled against his neck, whispering, "I think I would like that." And soon you were falling asleep in his arms. 

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

Your pillow never felt this warm and comfortable. And why hadn't your alarm gone off? It was so bright in here, it must be time to get up for work. 

You stretched your arms just as you heard, "Good morning," whispered in a very raspy voice. 

"Oh!" you gasped, your eyes suddenly open, wide awake. You were staring at Bradley as he smiled hesitantly back at you. "You're so handsome. I was beginning to think I had imagined how you looked before the power went out."

He just laughed and seemed to take that as his cue to run his fingers along your arm. "That was a fun sleepover. Don't usually get to wake up with anything cute draped across me."

"Oh, Sunshine will remedy that, I'm sure," you said teasingly, letting your lips brush against his. Bradley was instantly smiling. 

Then you heard some purring from the doorway. "Speak of the devil," Bradley whispered. "Come here, Sunshine. We were looking for you."

But he just purred louder and louder. "He's probably hungry. I need to feed Ginger anyway, so I'll feed him too."

You peeled yourself off of Bradley and got another good look at him as he lounged back against the arm of the loveseat. You giggled, because he was way too big for the piece of furniture, and the scrubs you gave him were a little small. 

"What?" he asked, looking kind of smug.

"Nothing. But you need to get up before my boss comes in," you said, biting your lip and turning toward Ginger's kennel. But a loud knock on the front door had you panicking. Your boss would have just let himself in. "I'm going to check to see who it is."

"Want me to come with you?" Bradley asked, instantly at your back. 

But you were looking up through the front window, and you immediately recognized Ginger's owner. "No, I'll be okay," you grumbled, straightening your scrubs as you headed toward the waiting room. 

You unlocked the door and let him inside, fully aware that nobody seemed to care when your office hours actually started. "We actually don't open for another hour, but if you're here to sign the paperwork for us to try to fix Ginger's leg, I can get that ready for you."

But he just scoffed. "I'm not signing it. There's no way I'm spending that kind of money for a cat. I can't believe you even think that's reasonable."

You had to bite your tongue. It was only a few hundred dollars. 

"I'm just here to pick her up so I don't have to keep paying for you to board her," he added impatiently. 

But your brow scrunched up. "What are you going to do with her?"

He was rolling his eyes now. "Does it matter?"

You pressed your lips together in a tight line before you said, "It matters to me, yes."

"I'll just leave her somewhere. Maybe someone else will find her or maybe not, but I already got a new kitten for my kids."

Your blood was boiling now. "You're not serious," you said, raising your voice. 

"Just give me the cat, and don't charge me a kennel fee for today."

Bradley strolled out into the waiting room and asked, "Is there a problem?"

He eyed Bradley in his scrubs and said, "Your clinic has the most ridiculous prices. I just want to pick up the cat and go."

"You can't have her!" you told him. 

He shook his head and turned to Bradley. "Are you going to let your employee talk to me like that? Go get the cat!"

"She can talk to you however she wants," Bradley mumbled. He must have seen the anger in your eyes, because he started to block the hallway leading back to the kennels. 

You didn't care what this man thought he was going to do, he wasn't leaving here with an animal. "I'm not going to send Ginger with you if your plan is to abandon her."

"Well I'm not going to pay for any more services!"

He was only motivated by money, which might just make this easier. "Then sign her away to the clinic and leave," you told him, already rummaging in your file cabinet for the form you needed. Unfortunately this kind of thing happened from time to time. 

You glanced at Bradley where he stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, thankful he was here. You were shaking with anger as you handed the form and a pen to Ginger's owner. And as you watched him sign his name, Ginger became property of the clinic. 

"And now you can get the hell out of here!" you told him, and he looked completely outraged. "You're abusive, and we will not allow you back for any of our services in the future." He was turning toward the door as you raised your voice. "And I hope your new kitten runs away and finds an owner who doesn't suck!"

He slammed the door behind him, and Bradley rushed over to you. "Are you okay? That was wild."

But all of the anger was gone now, and you just smiled up at him. "Wanna meet my new cat in the daylight?" you asked. 

"Yeah, I do," he said, and you kissed his rough cheek. 

You and Bradley sat on the floor in front of the open kennel door, holding hands. Inside the large cage, Sunshine was sitting next to Ginger as she ate her breakfast. 

"She's pretty. I couldn't tell what she looked like last night," Bradley murmured, reaching in and stroking her behind the ears. 

"I'll get her leg reset today, and I'll pay for her medical bills. Hopefully I can take her home with me in a few days."

Bradley cleared his throat. "I guess I should leave before your boss gets here?" 

"Yeah." But you really didn't want him to.

He nodded toward Sunshine and Ginger. "Looks like he made a new friend. If I can't get your number for me to use, you have to give it to me so we can set up a cat playdate. For Sunshine?"

You couldn't help laughing at his antics and the cute pout on his face.

"You can have my number for you. And Sunshine can have my number to reach Ginger. And if the offer still stands, I'd love to meet you at that bar later."

Bradley's face lit up as he got his phone out and handed it to you. "Sounds great. I'll text you the address." You entered your name and number and handed it back to him.

"I'll meet you there," you promised.

"I can't wait," he replied, but you were already kissing him. 

"You need to go," you whispered a second later. 

He pressed his lips to yours one more time before he reached in to get Sunshine. "I know, you don't want to leave Ginger. But I secured you a playdate," he told the cat. "Oh, how much do I owe you for fixing his leg?"

"Nothing," you said as you stood with your new cat in your arms, and Bradley followed you out to your desk. 

"That hardly seems fair," he replied, grabbing his khaki uniform from your chair. 

You just shrugged, setting Ginger down gently on your desk. "I did it off the clock anyway. Don't worry about it. You can buy me a drink later."

Bradley grinned at you. "I'll buy all of your drinks. And when we go out to dinner tomorrow night, I'll pay for that, too. Same as the movie I'm taking you to next weekend. Oh, and all of the concerts and museums we're going to visit together? I'm paying."

You giggled. "That actually sounds kind of perfect."

"You only like me because I'm a pet owner," he whispered, kissing you softly. 

You kissed him harder and ran your fingers through his hair one last time. "It certainly didn't hurt your cause. I'll meet you at the bar."

He nipped your lips one last time, and then held Sunshine up closer to his face as he headed for the door. "I owe you one. You want tuna for dinner? I'll feed you tuna every day."

You watched him walk outside and pull out of the parking lot, and then you plugged your phone in to check your messages.

You already had one from Bradley with the address for the Hard Deck. Then another one came through that said Thanks for one of the best nights of my life.

"I hope you liked Sunshine," you told Ginger. "Because I really like his dad."

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

Thanks for reading this one! Hope you liked it @morallydiseased! And thanks for your help @thedroneranger!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

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.

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

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!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@high-bi-imgonnacry

@xoxabs88xox

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH YEESSSSSSSSSSSS

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 !

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

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

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

Write that Rooster fic, I dare you.

....

If this is not it....I apologize.

Warnings: Reader is afraid of flying; mostly fluff; no physical descriptions, no use of y/n.

Not beta-read. Based on this post.

"We are now boarding any members of our military. We welcome you aboard and we thank you for your service."

Bradley shifts his bag on his shoulder, scanning his boarding pass and giving the attendant a smile and a nod. He walks down the winding walkway to board. His seat is nearly at the back of the plane—row 27, a middle seat. He'd prefer the window or the aisle—the middle is going to suck. He settles in, waiting patiently as the others board.

A few minutes later, he hears a thud in the overhead bin. He glances up to see a nervous looking young woman pushing her bag even deeper into the compartment before she lowers her hands, straightening her shirt where it's risen while lifting the bag.

She raises a hand, manages an, "Uh," as she points to the window seat beside him.

Rooster nods and stands obligingly, sliding out of the seat to let her in. She mumbles her thanks, scooting past him as quickly as possible and shoving a small backpack under the seat in front of her. Before he can even sit back down, she's buckling up and tightening her seatbelt. His brows raise a touch, but he says nothing. Maybe she just likes to be prepared, or doesn't want to scramble for it while they're taxiing.

He settles down, slouching back in his seat a little and reaching out, beginning to swipe through the tv menu. Out of his periphery, he can see her doing the same, though her hand is…shaking.

Bradley casts her a sidelong glance, brow furrowing a touch. He watches her tap on Live TV, then HGTV. Then her still-trembling fingers lower to her thighs, her palms scrubbing across the denim of her jeans as she turns to look out of the window. It's grey outside; the glass is streaked with rain. He spots her rubbing her thighs again, hears her draw a deep breath in through her nose before she pushes it out between her lips. Bradley turns back to his own screen, set on finding something to watch—and then her leg starts bouncing beside his.

He can't help but ask: "…First time flying?"

"Hm?"

Glancing over, he finds her looking distractedly out of the window again. She glances back toward him, then answers, "Oh! No. No, not first time, but um…I mean kinda! First time in a long time."

Bradley hums sympathetically, glancing up as an air host comes by with headphones. He holds his fingers up for two, thanking them before holding a pack out to the woman beside him.

"Here."

"What?" She turns to look at him finally, and spots the packet. "Oh! Thank you, I didn't hear them, uh…Yeah. Thanks."

"Sure."

He leans back in his seat, glancing down the aisle. The plane is nearly completely full. It won't be long now.

"Oh…Fuck," He hears. He glances around to the window and finds that the slight drizzle of rain has turned into a full-on downpour. The woman grasps the headphones tightly, the plastic crinkling beneath her hands.

Bradley has two options. He can plug his headphones in and let her deal with this in her own way. Or—

"…It'll be okay," He offers.

"No, sure...Probably, just…That's a lot of rain."

"Once we get out above the clouds, it'll be more chill."

The woman glances at him nervously. "It's not the being up there that worries me so much as the…Getting up there."

He nods a little. He could sugarcoat it. Or—

"It's gonna be a little bumpy," He agrees, "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, some turbulence. And then," He raises his hand, simulating a flat line. "Smooth sailing."

She gives him a flighty little smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's the longest that she's held his gaze. It gives him a chance to see how tired she seems—there are heavy bags under her bloodshot eyes.

"Do you fly a lot?" She asks. He chuckles, nodding.

"Oh, yeah," He admits. Her brow furrows.

"Wait, you were—You boarded when they said any military, right?"

"Yep."

"Air force?"

"Navy," He corrects. She mouths the word, nodding. She seems set the say something else, but the jolt of the plane going backward makes her eyes widen, her hands flying down the grasp the arm rests. Bradley watches her little packet of headphones fall to the floor, out of sight.

"It's alright," He offers, "We're just taxiing."

She swallows thickly, nodding.

"I always just—This is gonna sound so silly," She warns, "But I hydroplaned in my car once and I'm just imagining the plane…Spinning."

Bradley smiles a bit, unable to help it.

"That is a little silly," He admits, "But I can see what you mean. Especially with how wet it is out there."

It's the wrong thing to say. He hears the slight creak of the armrests as her grip tightens. His brow furrows a touch as her eyes dart between the window, and the screen on the back of the seat in front of her.

"If you don't mind my asking," He hedges, "Why did you pick a window seat?"

"It was the only seat available," She mumbles. Bradley hums sympathetically. He'd offer to switch with her, but it's too late for that. He glances away up as the safety announcements begin. He only half-watches. The other half of his focus is on her, and the way she gives the announcements her full attention. He can feel the plane picking up speed; he can hear her breathing becoming tighter, and shorter.

Bradley has two options. He can let her ride this out, cope alone, and plug in his headphones. Or—

Bradley gently lowers his hand beside hers, palm open, his thumb brushing her pinky. Her gaze drops to his hand, then darts up to his face.

"There if you need it," He offers with a soft smile. She pushes out a relieved breath, sliding her hand from the rest, into his. Her palm is clammy, and their fingers don't fit right the first time. He maneuvers them so that their hands are interlocked, pressed tightly together as they round to take off.

"Squeeze it if you need to," He urges over the popping of their ears, and the increased roar of the engine. She nods hurriedly, and he watches her eyes slam shut, her face screwing up as they begin to lift off of the ground.

He'll never get tired of it—the swooping feeling of lifting off, like you've left your stomach back on the ground; the force of the engines, and the brief near-feeling of weightlessness as your altitude climbs. It's freeing.

But the way she grasps his hand is grounding him again. He turns to look at her, and finds her eyes still closed. That may be for the best. Looking outside, he finds them completely surrounded by grey clouds. Beyond the wing looks like a simulation—like a video game that hasn't rendered yet. He gives her hand an encouraging squeeze in turn. He grimaces as she sucks in a tight breath when the plane wobbles, hitting a pocket of turbulence.

"It's alright," He soothes, even as her expression pinches further. "Few more minutes. It's gonna be fine."

"You promise?" She mumbles, peeking one eye open at him. He lifts his other hand, raising two fingers.

"Scout's honor," He says with all seriousness. She cracks a small smile, looses a shaky little laugh that puts him at ease.

"I'm Bradley," He offers, trying to keep her mind off of the plane giving another shake. She swallows thickly, gives his hand a thankful squeeze, and tells him her name. He grins, repeating it before he tacks on, "Nice to meet you."

--

"See? This isn't so bad."

She grunts in response, but she doesn't seem convinced. Her hand is still holding to his, though they're out in clear air. There's a line of pristine blue cutting over the layer of clouds.

"The wing is wiggling," She mutters.

"What?" He laughs.

"The wing is wiggling!" She points with her free hand at the slightly shaking piece. "Should it be doing that?"

"It's only wiggling a little."

"But should it be wiggling at all?"

"Look, if it does that at 575 miles per hour at 35,000 feet, about six miles off of the ground, I'm glad it only wiggles a little."

Bradley reaches around with his free hand and tugs down the window cover. She turns to him, eyes bright with indigence as he grins. He raises to package of headphones to his teeth, ripping them open and drawing out the wires. It's only then that she seems to realize that she's lost hers. She frowns, looking around, and is just as confused as Bradley plugs the jack into her screen.

"Take the left one," He urges. She does, watching him draw the wire wide and raise the right headphone to his ear.

"So," He leans in, "What are we watchin'?"

--

He's never seen so much House Hunters in his life, but he doesn't mind. All of the episodes are focused on Veterans. It's encouraging, seeing his fellow service men and women retire safely, and happily.

"We can watch something else," She offers for the fifth time. Bradley glances down at where she's resting her head on his shoulder, smiling a little.

"Nah, s'alright," He shakes his head. "Gives me a chance to plan for the future."

"Mm…What do you and your partner want in your future home?" She asks. His brows raise.

"Who says I have anyone?" He plies.

"I dunno. You seem pretty sweet. It'd be nuts for you not to be snapped up." Her admission makes him prickle with flattery, his smile widening.

"Then again," She goes on, "You haven't shrugged me off, so you're either a genuinely nice guy, or you're a dick." She tips her head up to look at him, and they both go still and quiet as their noses brush together. His eyes wander her face, tracing the line of her nose, lingering on her lips as she adds:

"…I'm really hoping you're not a dick," She admits quietly, gaze darting between his eyes and lips, "Be kind of a shame for a dick to have such pretty eyes."

His lips twitch with a smile.

"Hell," He murmurs, "I can't let you down now."

Her smile widens before she repositions her head on his shoulder, eyeing the screen again.

"So?" She presses.

"I don't have anyone," He answers. She grunts, and nods.

"Do you?" He adds.

"Nope."

"Mm."

"Hm?"

"Nothin'. Just. Mm."

She gives a mimicking hum before she snuggles closer. He lowers his head to rest atop hers. His gaze darts toward the closed window. A little part of him is dying to look outside, but…

He glances down, eyeing her head, and their still-clasped hands. He hones in on the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume, and her sleepy murmur of, "I think they're gonna pick the ranch style," And he smiles.

"Not the craftsman?" He asks.

"Pfffft. Heck no. That's way out of their price range."

"Yeah, but it has a pool."

"Pool-schmool. No way is she gonna go for that one."

As the screen flashes to the chosen house--the ranch style, he mutters, "Well, I'll be damned."

"Stick with me, Bradshaw," She yawns widely. "You'll get the hang of it."

Angel by the Wing - SEVEN

Chapter Warnings: drunk idiot at the bar grabs the reader once but that’s it, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: I have two more finals to go and they’re both essays. It’s the end of the semester/seasonal/clinical sad girl hours. This fic is consuming my brain. I will get to other requests soon but for now, enjoy our three sluts.

Series Masterlist

“Polynomials suck,” Amelia Benjamin declared as she slapped down her pencil on the counter. You chuckled at her declaration and pushed a bottle of Coke towards her. You were counting inventory at the bar while Penny and Gary worked in the back organizing the kitchen.

“When am I ever going to use this stuff?!” she moaned and buried her head in her hands. Rolling your eyes at her melodramatic display, you patted her hand and then ruffled her hair.

“If it makes you feel any better, I had to learn that stuff too. And look, I never use it.”

She let out a triumphant battle cry and dove back into her work, leaving you to grab the two chipped glasses you found. You pushed your way into the kitchen and deposited them in a trash can before leaning up against the counter next to where a very flustered, very stressed Chelsea stood staring at a mixology cheat sheet.

Keep reading

Old Habits Die Hard Part 2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley is interested in you, but so is his fraternity brother. And even if Bradley can get you in his room again, you can't seem to get past his door.

Warnings: Angst, swears, mention of sex

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check my profile for my masterlist

When Bradley woke up with Phoebe pressed against him for the second day in a row, it made him feel annoyed above all else. He shouldn't still be calling her to come over like this. It had been three years already, and they should either be dating or nothing at all.

"Pheebs, it's late," he told her, even though it was barely nine o'clock. He just wanted her to go. So he got out of bed and grabbed a clean towel. "I'm going to take a shower," he told her as he threw away the condom wrapper that was on his floor. As he walked out of his room, he tried to ignore the writing on his door, and he hoped if he took a long enough shower, Phoebe would be gone when he got back. 

The bathroom was still filthy, but the shower was hot, and it felt good. He would clean up the house this week, and he'd make Tyson and Jeff help him. He briefly wondered if he could get any information about you out of Jeff. God, you were so cute, and cute girls really got him going. You were wearing actual clothing, jeans and stuff that would have been fun for him to remove. You didn't seem like the high maintenance types that favored his fraternity parties, and he liked that about you too. 

Your lips were pouty and your words had kept him on his toes the entire time he was with you. He'd thought about your hand while Phoebe's was on his dick last night. He'd thought about your body while he was inside her. He wondered what kinds of noises you would make, and he wanted to be the one coaxing them out of you. Not Jeff. He wouldn't do a good enough job. But Bradley would.   

And now his dick was hard. "Fuck," he groaned, stroking himself. This had to be a brand new low for him, jerking off in the shower to the thought of one girl while a different girl was still in his bed from the previous night. 

But he could picture you licking your lips and calling him Beer Boy. He could remember exactly how your voice sounded. And he came as he whispered your name. 

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

You woke up still thinking about Bradley. Jeff was the one who walked you home, and you'd even kissed him on the cheek, but you had been thinking about his taller, feistier fraternity brother the entire time. 

What was wrong with you? Bradley's door was literally covered in girls' names and phone numbers! And whoever Phoebe was... well, she made it clear she was his number one. 

You decided you would spend Sunday getting Bradley out of your system, and then on Monday you would start fresh. You were going to ask Jeff out. When you were alone with him in the library, you were going to do it. You thought he would say yes. He had seemed a little concerned last night when you told him you went upstairs to check out Bradley's room.

"You and every other girl," Jeff had remarked with a scowl. 

But Bradley had actually been pretty sweet. He'd even held your hand. The only reason you asked him to stop was because he promised he wouldn't touch you without permission, and you wanted to see what he would do. But part of you wanted him to keep holding your hand, and maybe touch you in other places too. And if Jeff hadn't called your phone to see where you went, you would have gladly stayed in Bradley's room longer. 

When you took a shower, you had to physically force yourself to stop thinking about him. It looked like you had the apartment to yourself for the morning after Janessa texted you to say she was going to stay with Tyson. Apparently he had been the one to win Janessa's attention. You couldn't help but wonder which Beta guy had been the one to lose out to Tyson. It certainly seemed like it was Bradley. Could it be because he was paying attention to you instead of her?

You spent the entire afternoon studying and getting ready for the week. And when you got to class and saw Jeff on Monday morning, you forced yourself to remember you had a crush on him. 

"Hey," he said, dropping down to sit next to you in your calculus classroom. "We studying in the library after lunch?"

"Sure," you replied, but now that you really looked at him, maybe he wasn't as cute as you had originally thought? You used to love blonds. Not that you had a ton of experience, but pretty much all of your crushes and hookups had looked similar to Jeff. Bradley looked completely different. Dark hair, smirking lips, intense brown eyes. 

As class started, you let your forehead rest against your textbook. You couldn't stop thinking about Bradley, but you really needed to. 

And it didn't help that he showed up to the tiny study room you were sharing with Jeff that afternoon.

You had almost done it. You had almost worked up the nerve to ask Jeff if he wanted to go to one of the basketball games with you, when Bradley poked his head inside the room and said, "Hey."

With one word, your mouth went slightly agape and you couldn't think up a single response. He was wearing a backwards cap and an adorable grin.

"What are you doing here?" Jeff asked, his voice laced with suspicion. "You never come to the library."

"First time for everything," Bradley replied with his eyes on you as he said it. "How are you?"

"I'm doing just fine, Beer Boy," you replied, trying your best not to smile. 

"I'm still Beer Boy? Come on, I told you my name," he replied, plopping into the third chair at the tiny table. 

"If you're not going to study quietly, we'll kick you out," Jeff told him with a warning tone. 

Bradley shrugged at him and pulled a novel out of his bag. "I told you yesterday when we were cleaning the house that I had to read for English," Bradley replied, but he was still looking right at you. "Don't you remember? It was right after we were talking about Y/N."

Your eyes went wide. "You were talking about me?"

You saw Jeff grimace at the same time Bradley grinned at you. "Yeah," Bradley confirmed. "You're the talk of the town."

An embarrassed heat crept up your neck. "What did you two say about me?"

Jeff cleared his throat loudly. "Dude, let us study or get out."

With one more grin in your direction, Bradley switched his focus to Ernest Hemingway, leaving you and Jeff in the requested silence to get your work done. But your heart was still pounding, and Bradley's knee came to rest against yours under the table.

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

Bradley was being an asshole. He knew it. Jeff knew it. You probably knew it too. But he didn't really care, because he had just made you blush. He didn't spend time with girls who were even capable of blushing anymore, and he really wanted to reach out and feel how warm your cheeks were. 

When he had been cleaning the Beta house with Jeff and Tyson yesterday, he asked Jeff what the deal was with you. When Jeff waffled a bit, Bradley announced that he thought you were fucking adorable. He watched Jeff's face fall, and he heard Tyson snicker. 

Then Jeff glared at him. "Don't even try it. I'm begging you. She's a nice girl."

Bradley felt his hands clench. So the guys thought he wasn't deserving of a nice girl. It wasn't that he didn't agree with them for the most part, but that still stung a bit. It's not like he was going to try to fuck you and never talk to you again. It wasn't like he was going to ignore you or hurt you. Shit. He liked you.

He had dropped the conversation after that. But he knew you and Jeff spent a lot of time together at the library on campus. So he decided it was time to pop his library cherry and pay the place a visit. And from there, it wasn't hard to find your study room. 

He wasn't really reading The Sun Also Rises, because he had finished it last week and already completed his essay. He was silently studying you as you ran the eraser end of your pencil along your bottom lip. Jesus, he'd love to put his cock there. He'd been thinking about you a lot, in every position imaginable. Now he wondered if he could make you blush all the way down to your tits. 

Your eyes met his over the book, and you smirked like you knew what he was thinking about. He was kind of hoping his thoughts were transparent to you. He would love it if you knew how he imagined you, looking all fucked out in his bed. If Jeff wasn't sitting there, Bradley would have made a move. You should be sitting in his lap by now in an ideal world. 

When Bradley felt your knee rubbing his, he had to bite back a moan. He was sure you did that on purpose, but when he reached for your leg, you were already out of your seat. "Shit, I'm going to be late for my lab!" you said, tossing everything into your bag and looping your arms through the straps. 

Bradley was instantly out of his seat as well. "I'll walk with you. I need to get lunch anyway." He took one last fleeting look at Jeff's pissed off expression as he followed you out of the study room. 

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

You kept glancing over your shoulder as you practically ran out of the library, but Bradley was right there with you. Your smile grew each time you glanced back, and he was smiling at you, too.

"You don't have to walk with me, Beer Boy," you told him as you rushed past the circulation desk.

"What if I want to?" he asked, waving to a group of girls who looked surprised to see him in the library. 

"It's a free country. I can't stop you from walking across campus." 

"God bless America," he mumbled as you both stepped onto the sidewalk side by side. "You know, it's only fair if I give you a nickname too, since you won't use my real name."

You couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous he was. "Maybe that's fair. But I've already been called every iteration of nerd out there, so hit me with your best."

"Nerd? That's the furthest thing from my mind when I think about you," he said as you led him through the quad toward the science building. 

"So you've been talking about me and thinking about me?" you asked, trying to focus on where you were walking. 

"Hmmm," he hummed in response. "I'm going to call you Pretty Miss Decimal. No, wait... Mesmerizing Mathlete. You were a mathlete in high school, weren't you?" You just rolled your eyes in response, and he said, "Yeah. Thought so. I can tell by the way smart girls make me feel." 

You had reached your classroom door with one minute to spare, and now you were gaping at him. No wonder he had so many phone numbers on his bedroom door. "How do smart girls make you feel, Beer Boy?"

The grin he aimed your way was lethal. "I'll tell you later, Sugar. Don't want you to be late for class." He ran his fingers softly through your hair, and then he was gone, and you were still standing at the door like an idiot as your professor came over to close it. 

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

On Wednesday afternoon, Bradley sat in the living room of his fraternity house, ignoring calls from Phoebe and trying to study. He needed the best grades possible to still have a chance at naval officer training. Not that he'd ever told anyone that. 

Jeff tried to walk through the house without Bradley noticing. He'd been trying to avoid Bradley since the party on Saturday night. The party where Bradley met you.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Bradley called to Jeff before he could disappear into the kitchen. "It's about her, isn't it?"

Jeff tossed his books onto the armchair and came to stand right in front of Bradley where he sat on the couch. "Of course it's about her."

Bradley sighed. "You want me to back off because you like her, or because you think I'm a scumbag?" he asked. 

Jeff just looked at him, and Bradley had the growing urge to punch him in the face. Maybe a fight would make him feel better. It's not like his face could get more fucked up looking than it already was. Having Jeff hit him back would probably feel cathartic. Fighting over a girl who would probably only ever call him Beer Boy and tell him not to hold her hand would be good for him. Help him remember his place. 

Just then his phone rang again, vibrating across the coffee table, illuminated with Phoebe's name. 

"Why don't you answer your booty call?" Jeff asked him, picking up the phone and handing it to Bradley. "And leave the nice girls alone."

Bradley ignored the call and stood abruptly, towering over Jeff by a good few inches, but his friend didn't back down at all. "You afraid she might like me better? You afraid she would rather fuck me than go on a date with you? We could always just ask her. She's smart, you know. Probably knows what she wants."

"You do enough damage around here. Just stay the fuck away from her," Jeff warned before storming off.

But Bradley could not. He crashed the study room again on Thursday. Jeff glared when he arrived, but you smiled brightly at him. 

"Beer Boy, what brings you by?" you asked softly. Bradley sat down in the empty chair after pulling it a few inches closer to you. 

"Just wanted to check on my favorite Mathlete. How was your lab the other day?" 

"It was good. But you never finished what you started to tell me," you whispered, and Bradley saw you glance at Jeff. 

Bradley smiled at your pouty lips. "About how smart girls make me feel?"

"Time for class!" Jeff announced, even though Bradley knew you had at least five more minutes before you really needed to leave. "You coming?" 

You started to pack up your books. "Yeah," you told Jeff. "Go ahead, I'll catch up." 

Jeff looked between you and Bradley before turning and walking away slowly.

Bradley didn't waste any time, leaning in close and telling you, "They make me want to kiss them until they sound stupid. Touch them until they sound so fucking dumb."

When your teeth sunk into your soft bottom lip, Bradley almost grabbed you and kissed you. You were stuck in his mind, and he couldn't even distract himself with Phoebe. He could make you want him back. He knew he could. 

"I gotta go," you told him breathlessly, staring at his lips. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow night? Jeff invited me to the house for the party."

Bradley nodded his head. "I'll be there. Come find me if you want." There, he'd firmly put the ball back in your court. He'd let you know exactly what he thought about you. If you wanted Jeff, so be it. He could probably make himself want Phoebe again. Or he could find someone else. But he knew he would still think about you.

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

Apparently Janessa and Tyson were a full blown thing now. You walked to the Beta house with her, and listened to her rambling on about him.

"He's so sexy, don't you think? He's got that flawless face with the squared jaw. He's actually almost too hot, if that makes sense. Just a totally different vibe than Bradley. Not that he's not cute in his own way, even with all the scars, but I think Tyson was a way better pick for me, you know?"

You paused. "So Bradley was the other guy you were trying to hook up with?" You'd had that suspicion all along, since he was the other one Janessa was hanging all over last weekend. 

"Yeah, but he hadn't been paying me that much attention. Stopped wanting to hang out with me, probably because of Phoebe."

Your heart lurched as you thought about the name in big, bold handwriting on his bedroom door. "Who is she? His girlfriend?" Now you felt awkward, like you wanted to turn around and head back to your apartment. Why was he flirting with you while he had a girlfriend? And if he was flirting with you, then he was probably flirting with anyone who would give him the time of day.

"I'm not sure what they are," she replied as you both walked into the house with the music blaring. Just when you decided that you definitely wanted to turn back, you heard Jeff calling your name and waving you over to where he stood with a group of people. 

"Go have fun," Janessa told you with a wink, and you headed toward Jeff. You'd barely thought about him at all this week, only really paying attention to him when you studied together. And the two times that Bradley had been there as well, your attention was definitely on him and not Jeff. 

"Hey!" Jeff called pulling you in for a hug that you barely reciprocated before backing away. Bradley's words were echoing in your mind. He had invited you to come seek him out. You wanted to find him and hang out with him again. You wanted him to know you'd be okay with him kissing you stupid. You wanted to hear him tell you Phoebe wasn't his girlfriend. 

"Hi, Jeff. Hey, I'm just going to grab one of the good beers out of the kitchen fridge, okay?" 

You made your way through the house, trying to remember how Bradley had led you to the kitchen last time. You stumbled upon Tyson and Janessa kissing, and then you saw a few people you knew from class. When you finally found the kitchen and strolled inside, you noticed how much quieter it was back here. You also noticed Bradley, sitting on the counter next to the refrigerator with a beer in his hand. 

You couldn't help but smile as he hopped down.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked you softly before reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out the same kind of beer you drank last weekend. 

He opened the bottle and handed it to you. "I was just looking for the beer fridge," you told him with a shrug.

"That's why I was sitting next to it, hoping you'd find me too."

You tried not to smile as you took a sip. "Maybe I was looking for you too, but you were definitely my second priority after the beer."

He nodded solemnly. "That makes sense. I can live with that. Come upstairs with me?"

You licked your lips nervously. Jeff was the one who had invited you here. Jeff was the one you were still meaning to ask on a date. Jeff was waiting for you at the other end of the house. But when Bradley held out his hand, you took it. 

"Are you giving me permission to hold your hand tonight?" he asked, lacing his fingers through yours as he led you toward the stairs like last time.

"For now," you told him. 

"I can live with that, too."

His room was just the same as last weekend. His economics book was open on his desk, and his US Navy desk lamp was on.

"Your room is very tidy," you remarked walking past him, barely brushing against him with your shoulder. 

"Always been a bit of a neat freak. Living in this house is frankly quite disgusting at times."

You giggled and stopped to look at the collection of novels on his bookshelf. He had a lot of your favorites. You felt him standing directly behind you, the heat from his body was radiating and warming you.

"What's your major?" you asked him, setting down your beer and flipping through his notebooks. His notes were neat and orderly.

"Political science," he replied, stopping right next to you. "I tried to pick a major where I could guarantee good grades, but I actually really enjoy it."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Why didn't you pick your major because you wanted to study it?"

Bradley shrugged before taking a sip of beer. He seemed hesitant to answer you, but he did anyway. "My dad died when I was a little kid, but I want to have the opportunity to be a naval aviator like he was. Since things didn't work out how I had originally planned... I know I will need a really good GPA to get into the program this late in the game."

"You kept all of your dad's stuff?"

Bradley nodded. "Yeah."

You glanced up at him through your long eyelashes. "Sorry you lost him so young." When Bradley just shrugged in response, you continued. "You want to go to flight school? No wonder your GPA is so high. It's competitive, right?" you asked, softly touching the dog tags again, just like last weekend.

"Very competitive. But I don't mind working hard for something I want," he whispered, leaning a little closer to you. "And now you officially know more about all of that than anyone else here."

"Oh," you whispered, eyeing him carefully. "Even more than Phoebe?"

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

Bradley watched you glance toward his open bedroom door. He didn't have to turn to know you were reading her name where it was written in sharpie. 

Bradley had given Jeff ample time to make a move. Really, he had been more than generous. Jeff had known you for a long time, and it wasn't Bradley's fault if he hadn't sealed the deal with you yet. It wasn't Bradley's fault that Jeff should have already been dating you by now.

But it might have been Bradley's fault that you were in his bedroom, looking at him like you couldn't remember who Jeff even was. 

"Yeah, Sugar. You officially know more about my career ambitions than she does." 

You looked pleased with yourself as you tried to casually drink your beer. Bradley wanted to keep feeding you information if it meant you would stay in here with him.

You turned to face him fully and took your time examining his scars. He was bracing himself to hear you ask about them, but you didn't. "Phoebe? Is she your girlfriend?"

"No."

"Would she be upset if she heard you say that?"

He laughed. "No."  Because truthfully, she would not. 

"And all of those other girls?" you whispered, your eyes on his door again.

"Don't look at that, Sugar. They don't matter." His voice was pleading, even to his own ears. 

"Okay," you told him, and you walked across the room to gently close the door, effectively keeping the names on the other side of it out of the conversation. 

And now it was even quieter in his room. And God, he wanted to taste you. He wanted to fuck you. He wanted to talk to you all night. 

You inched closer to him again. Bradley watched you examine his scars some more. You made no move to be discreet about it.

"You going to ask what happened to me?" Everyone always wanted to know why he looked this way. He wished he could go back, before he'd ended up crashing headfirst through the glass table.  

You shook your head. "No. You can tell me about it when you want to. Or not. You still look hot."

Your eyes went a little wide like you couldn't believe you had said that to him. 

"Oh yeah?" he asked with a grin. "I don't get that as much these days."

You turned away from him again. "Well, that's just because you don't get to hear what people say about you behind your back. Janessa was plenty interested in you before she decided on Tyson."

He didn't really care who else thought he looked good. You just told him you thought he did. 

"I don't care about Janessa," he told you. 

"Good," you said, setting your empty beer bottle on his desk. Bradley loved the way your torn jeans hugged your ass. His body was absolutely begging his brain for permission to touch you. 

"You gonna go out with Jeff?" he asked you, voice raspy as you turned to face him and moved closer.

"He hasn't asked me," you confirmed with a shrug. "You think I should just ask him out?"

"No. That's not a good idea," Bradley told you, touching the ends of your hair. 

"Why not?" you asked softly. He watched your chest rise and fall as your breaths grew shallow. He needed to taste you.

Bradley leaned down and kissed you softly one time. "Because, if you did, he would be so mad that we're kissing right now," he whispered.

You licked your lips and ran your fingertips along his scarred cheek. He was going to lose his mind. 

"Okay, Beer Boy," you whispered, and Bradley's hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you against him. 

Bradley pressed his lips to yours again, and you wrapped your hands around his shoulders and slid them to the back of his neck and into his hair. 

He parted your lips gently with his and tasted your tongue. Sweet. You were so sweet. And you felt so pliant in his hands. He threaded his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you even closer.

"Bradley," you moaned, and his cock throbbed for you. 

"Oh, so you do remember my name," he groaned as you ran your hand down the front of his tee shirt. 

You looked up at him, pupils wide and cheeks flushed, running your fingers along his abs. 

"I do," you confirmed. "You gonna kiss me stupid? Make me forget it?"

Bradley grinned. "Now that's one thing I want you to remember, Sugar." 

You bit your lip, and just when Bradley ran his hands under your shirt, touching the soft skin of your waist, his phone rang loudly on his desk. 

You both turned to look at Phoebe's name illuminated on the phone screen. 

"You know what? That's okay," you said, taking a step away from him. "You should answer that, and I'm gonna go." 

"Wait," Bradley said, reaching for your hand. But you pulled it from his grasp and left without another word, eyeing his door as you went. 

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

Thanks for reading this fic! I hope you enjoy this version of Bradley as much as I do! Thanks again to @mak-32 for everything! This fic is for you!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@high-bi-imgonnacry

@xoxabs88xox

Remember You Even When I Don't (1)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 2.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: I'm so excited and so nervous to be posting this. It was originally going to be a one shot, but it got a little out of control and so I've decided to try and split it up into multiple parts.

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

------

He woke up feeling like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls and an ice pick had been taken to his head over and over and over again. The pain was blinding. The grimace on his face must show, because suddenly there was a squeeze to his hand and a soft voice by his ear. 

“Bradley?”

That’s him, he recognized, maybe taking a little bit longer than he should have to realize that fact.  

“Oh, Bradley. Can you open your eyes for me, honey?” 

His movements felt slow to him, delayed and lethargic and like he’s fighting against more g-forces than he ever has. It takes him a moment to pry his eyes open, but when he does, he immediately flinches and squeezes them shut again. 

“Shit, oh my god I’m sorry,” that voice speaks again. The pressure on his hand is released and he hears what must be the squeak of a chair being pushed back. A soft click sounds through the room, but it felt like another clink of the ice pick on his skull. It’s a little less bright beyond his eyelids now, though. In another moment, his hand is warm as it’s encased in another again. “Lights are off now.”  

It felt like a tremendous effort to open his eyes again, and the process is slow. As he came into consciousness a little more fully, he registered the pain in more than just his head. And oh, there was a lot of it. He tried to shift just the slightest bit and immediately regretted it. It felt like every centimeter of him hurt. God, even blinking hurts.

The room comes in and out of focus, and even when it mostly clears, there was a slight blur around the edges of his vision. He recognized enough to know he was in a hospital. The white walls, the iv running through the crook of his elbow, the continuous beep beep beep of the monitor on one side of the bed are a giveaway to that. 

“Baby, baby, hey, don’t try and move, okay?”

The voice on the other side of the bed must belong to whoever is holding his hand. Despite the request, he couldn’t help but slowly, slowly turn his head in that direction. The voice was captivating, melodic, almost, and he wanted to see who it belonged to. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus on you, but when they do, he’s blown away. 

“Wow,” he breathed out in awe, his voice scratchy and sore, “you’re beautiful.” 

The breathtaking woman holding his hand laughs, and the sound is beautiful, but then tears well in your eyes. He doesn’t like that, he decided. He’s confused as to why he cares as much as he does about that fact. “Please don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry,” you responded as you wiped under your eyes, “it’s just so good to hear your voice and see those eyes, baby.” 

There’s something he’s missing. The nagging feeling in the back of his head tells him that it’s something important, vital, imperative to his very survival. He racked his brain to try and find what it was, but the pain was so severe and his vision was starting to go in and out again the more he tried to figure it out. God, what happened to him? 

“Let me call your doctor,” you insist, and you’re standing to press the button on his bed when he tries to speak through the pain again. 

“Are you…not my doctor?” 

His voice was low, but he knew you heard him by how your entire body froze and your watery eyes snapped to him. Tears were welling again, he noticed in his blurred vision, but the look you have in your eyes was different this time. 

He felt like he did something wrong. 

You pressed the call button over and over again, more times than is probably necessary, before sinking back into the chair that he was starting to think you’ve been in for a long time. It felt like your hand was holding onto his a little bit harder now. 

“Bradley…do you know who I am? Do you know my name?” 

The pain in his body was ricocheting through him so viciously that he felt he may throw up, but he tried to push through it and think anyway. It felt important. You felt important, but he couldn’t figure out why. And he couldn’t think of your name, either. It’s that feeling of being right there on the tip of his tongue, but it just wouldn’t come out. 

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry. Should I?” 

You gasped lightly and he doesn’t like that sound, either. Before he could try and apologize, for something he wasn’t completely clear on, the door to his room opened and suddenly there were way more than the two of you in the room. He’s surrounded by white coats and navy blue scrubs and your hand wasn’t in his anymore and he missed the feel of it. He flailed slightly, trying to find it once more, but you were being ushered to the back of the small hospital room and that doesn’t feel right, either. 

“No,” he muttered, not listening to any of the medical personnel asking him questions and poking and prodding at him. He just knew that he wanted you back beside him, looking like you did when he first woke up, not sad like you did now. 

Everything hurt. 

Someone was shining a light in his eyes and he was so overcome with it that he at first didn’t notice how everyone in the room stopped moving when he had been asked what year it is and he had said 2018. He answered again when they asked who the current President was and his date of birth. 

By the collective intake of breath throughout the room, it seemed the last one was the only one he got right. 

“Lieutenant Commander -”

“It’s just Lieutenant.” 

The doctor clicked his flashlight off and took a small step back, clearing his throat and contemplating his words before he spoke. “According to your official Navy file, you were promoted to Lieutenant Commander two years ago. And unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander, it’s no longer 2018. It’s 2022, sir.”

The beeping of his heart monitor was starting to quicken, and his own breathing was loud in his ears. 

The doctor started speaking again, but Bradley couldn’t hear him. There was a consistent buzzing in his head. He was starting to get unbelievably dizzy. He felt like he was going to be sick. Throughout it, his eyes were still on you. The tears were streaming freely now, no longer being pushed away in defiance, with your hands covering your mouth as you stared back at him like you were having a hard time seeing him. 

A shimmering caught his attention and for the first time, he noticed the ring on your left finger. The edges on his vision started to go dark, and as the possibility of what that meant hit him, he no longer felt or saw anything at all. 

_________

He had been unconscious for three days. 

A training accident, the doctor had told him, and a nasty ejection that involved not only slamming into the canopy, but into the plane itself. He was unconscious before he ever hit the ground, but his parachute had done its job on at least getting him there. More broken ribs than intact ones, a collapsed lung, more cuts and bruises to add to the regular collection, and a skull fracture and swelling on his brain that explained his massive headache and his apparent lack of memory. 

Four years of his life. 

Four. Years. 

Somehow, though, that wasn’t the most shocking thing he had heard since regaining consciousness. 

The woman in the room was his wife. You were his wife and he didn’t remember you. But he knew you. He knew that he knew you. He could feel it in his aching bones when he looked at you. 

It took a long time for the two of you to be alone again. A nurse had been in the room when he next woke up and the doctors quickly followed to explain all that had happened to him. He had almost immediately been rolled away for a variety of testing, poking and prodding. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but by the time he made it back to his room, there was no natural light filtering in through the windows anymore, and the ward itself was a little bit quieter. It must have been late.

You gave him the smallest of smiles from the chair next to his bed as the nurse who brought him back made sure all of his monitors were hooked up properly. She explained a few things to the both of you, seemingly unfazed to be sharing his medical information with someone he didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter, though. Because you’re his wife, and it’s your legal right to have this information. 

When Nurse Anne finally left, the two of you simply stared at one another. The air felt awkward, taught with unfamiliar tension. It settled over the room for a moment before you cleared your throat. He tried not to focus on how you were playing with the ring on your finger, twisting it around with your thumb.

“How are you -“

“I don’t know your name.” 

He didn’t mean to blurt out the words, especially when it cut off whatever you were about to ask him. But the thought has been going through his mind since you had asked him when he first woke up what must be hours ago now.

He had hoped for a revelation when you told him. Your name bounced around in his head, searching for something. But the only thing he found was disappointment when nothing hit him. 

He was tired and wanted to go to sleep. Even with the pain medication continuously dripping through the IV, his whole body hurt, but he couldn’t, now. He was desperate to speak to you. He wanted to make some sort of sense of this mess, but part of him, some part he was no longer familiar with, also just wanted to hear your voice again. 

“How…how long have we been married?”

“Three years,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. It seemed that all he’d made you do since he woke up was cry. Bradley could tell that you were holding yourself together with all the strength you could muster. He admired you for that. You must have realized quickly that he was distracted or that the math was hurting his still aching head, so you followed up by explaining you had only been dating for four months before he proposed, and had been married by month six. 

Despite all the confusion and both the physical and mental hurt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “You were crazy enough to say yes after four months?” 

You laughed, and oh, he thought, that’s a beautiful sound. 

“You definitely aren’t the first person to accuse me of that,” you revealed, though it didn’t come as much of a surprise because it made sense. Meeting and marrying in half a year was intimidating, and a bit insane in his eyes. He had always been slow to trust and even slower to love. He wondered about those first four months and what they must have been like to inspire him to propose, but instead of asking, he took the quiet that came over the room as an opportunity to just…look at you. There was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain as he does. 

Your hair was pulled back loosely at the base of your neck, more than a few pieces falling out of the hold the band had on it. You were in plain black leggings and an oversized Eagles sweatshirt that threatened to swallow you. In the back of his muddled mind, he questions if it was his, or if you maybe shared his enjoyment for the sport and team. Your skin was blotchy and your eyes were puffy from all the tears. 

You looked as exhausted as he felt, but you were still so, so beautiful. He doesn’t know if he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful, in fact. It was the first thing he had thought when he woke up the first time, and his opinion hadn’t changed. 

“This must be really overwhelming for you,” you said after a few minutes of silence. He could sense your nervousness rising and noticed how you were rubbing your rings again - he wondered if it was a tell of yours all the time. “I don’t - I don’t want to make that worse, so I - I can go, if you’d like me to.” 

“Go?” he questioned. Something that felt like panic flickered inside of him. He doesn’t think he likes that idea. 

“Yes. If you wanted to be alone. Or I could - I guess I could have someone else come stay with you?” You looked like you dreaded the idea of it, but he knew you would do it if it was what he wanted, and wasn’t that something? He had never had someone who would willingly put themselves through hurt if it made him feel better. Your last question raised one of his own, though, and he couldn’t help but ask. 

“Have you…been here the whole time?” 

“Of course,” you whispered with a nod. You leant forward in your chair like you were going to grab his hand but stopped yourself at the last second. You were still rubbing the rings on your left hand as you considered the words you were going to say. 

“I had to have my gallbladder removed last year,” you spoke again after a moment. His eyebrows furrowed, searching for a memory and coming up short. He didn’t know where you were going with this. “I was at home when I started getting these really bad pains. I would have thought it was my appendix, but I had that removed when I was a kid. After the pain didn’t go away I decided I should probably go to the hospital. I knew you were in the air that day so I left you a voicemail and sent you a text about what was happening. They had just put me in a room after running a few tests to figure out what was wrong when you came crashing in, demanding to talk to a doctor about what was wrong with me and then demanding to know why I wasn’t already in surgery if my gallbladder was so inflamed and infected that it was causing me as much pain as it was. I was in the hospital for less than 24 hours but you were there the whole time, holding my hand. Then you took time off work so that you could stay at home with me. For the first few days, if I did anything more than lift the tv remote or turn the page in my book, you were stopping me so that you could do it yourself. You were so worried about me.” 

He could feel it then. It was a strange sensation, really. He didn’t know you. His mind couldn’t produce any memories of you, but the thought of something happening to you, of something having happened to you, made him worry. He felt protective of you and you weren’t more than a stranger to him right now. 

“I say all this to say, Bradley, that if the roles were reversed, if I were the one in that hospital bed, I know exactly where you’d be, too. Because you have been. It doesn’t matter how big or small. I know you don’t remember but…that’s…that’s who we are, okay? There’s nowhere else I’d have been but right here by your side.” 

Your words hit him harder than he expected them to. He didn’t really know how to respond. He couldn’t make sense of all of this.  

“I think I want you to stay,” he whispered, almost afraid of the words. 

This time, you didn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. You settled your hand over his and squeezed gently. And though you didn’t let your touch remain for more than a moment, the brief interaction spread warmth through the area. 

“Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

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

Notes: Thank you for reading! Your feedback is so important to me. Please let me know your thoughts and if you're interested in more of this being posted :)

The Boogeyman

summary - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was ruthless, a stone cold killer both in and outside of the ring — with the belts and trophies to prove it. When a miscalculation results in a target being put on the back of his trainer’s daughter, Bradley finds himself facing responsibility he never signed up for. You’re a whole new challenge. And Bradley doesn’t think you’re one he can fight his way out of.

warnings - DARK THEMES, boxer au, language, threats from Adler, Bradley is 6′6″ because I said so, brief mentions of blood, stalking, smoking, descriptions of scars, mentions of nightmares, no use of y/n

this series is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 4.4k

okay I know I said this was coming on Saturday but I lied lol. I think I found a posting schedule that will be good. let’s see if I can stick to it! - bugs

monsters in the dark masterlist

Keep reading

the keeper part 1

my love for you runs deeper, let’s spend this life as one

Pairing; Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem Reader

Summary; Rooster visits his local bookstore and meets his future wife-when she laughs in his face, that is.

Warnings; quite a few sexual thoughts, the word 'necrophilia', very very slight daddy kink, slight sir kink, slight lieutenant kink, flirty rooster, swearing, it's all mainly just Rooster thinking inappropriately abt you lmao

(a/n) aight y'all I really like this one, I shall be sad if it flops :(( title is a lyric from The Keeper by Blossoms

Word Count; 3.6k

After the uranium mission, Rooster had decided to put some time back into his hobbies, the things he enjoyed doing and what mattered to him. He had realised he’d been too focused on his flying-something he never thought he’d say. It was like he’d been on a mission of his own, set on proving himself and showing Maverick that he didn’t need him-he could do well on his own no matter if Mav thought pulling his papers would stop him.

And then he’d been part of the dagger squad. Being that close to losing his friends-his family, that close to dying himself, it had hammered it home that he didn’t really appreciate what he had as much as he maybe should. So, he’d started with a written list of things he wanted to get back into. He’d ticked off a few, and next was reading-he used to be an avid reader, always wanting to be away in one world or another, but as he started flying more and more he found the escapism in a different way. He couldn’t deny the pull of reading a good book by the beach or on his porch though, and had set off for the local bookstore. 

Rooster had felt slightly ashamed when he had to stop outside his home to put the address into his maps app, realising he didn’t even know where it was. He was sure he must have walked past it quite a few times when it showed up on his screen near the supermarket he frequented, but he couldn’t even picture the place. Maybe he wasn’t quite as cultured as he thought he was.

It was hot outside, with spring giving way to summer, so the door was propped open and soft music flowed out. There weren’t very many people on the streets and Rooster took a deep breath in, looking up and down the road before stepping inside. Back when he used to read regularly he hadn’t liked the chain bookstores, ones that felt pretentious and like the cashier was going to judge him for whatever he bought. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside this store though, and he ducked behind some shelves in the fiction section, realising he didn’t know what he was looking for-he didn’t want nonfiction though that was for sure. He just wanted to dive into something, forget about his own life for a few hours and pretend he was somewhere else. 

Quiet humming started up at the back of the store, getting louder as someone seemed to work their way towards him. He groaned inwardly, wanting to just browse without some shop assistant badgering him or trying to make him buy something-but the sound stopped and suddenly-

“Ellie!!!! I didn’t know you were coming to visit me today!!”

“I had to! I finished the second one and you NEED to give me the third! I’m serious, I don’t think I can survive without it for much longer.”

Rooster relaxed once he realised no one was coming to bother him, and he listened to a woman laugh and then tut on the other side of the shelves he was staring at.

“Alright fine, but once again it’s the lowest of the low in this genre-seriously, remember those books I was telling you about last week? Just got a few more in and I am begging you to read one-you’ll realise everything that’s wrong with these ones if you do. Like seriously-the bit in the first one when she’s talking about him sleeping with her while she’s unconscious and he goes ‘I’m not into necrophilia’-” Rooster held back a shocked cough as he listened to whoever was talking-what the actual hell were you talking about?!? “-and that’s literally not even what the word means. It’s just factually incorrect. How did that get past all the publishers, all the editors, and proofreads like come ON!!”

He was just staring blankly in front of him now, trying to compute what he was hearing. Your voice was indignant, almost insulted as you talked about this book.

“How did you even notice that? I just focused on the actual sex-I mean that’s what it’s all about right?”

“Ellie, I wish I could agree with you. But stuff like that just takes me completely out of it I just don’t get how someone could write that. There are definitely some books out there where I can just focus on the sex though and that’s what I’m trying to get you to read!”

You definitely didn’t know he was there. He somehow doubted you would be talking about your bookish sexual preferences if you knew there wasn’t just your friend ‘Ellie’ but also a random man in the store. It also would have been very easy to make some kind of noise, to slink back out of the store or just walk to a different shelf, but he found himself liking your voice and wondered what else you were going to say. He didn’t have to wait long to be entertained.

“There’s this book I read a couple of weeks ago, slight forbidden romance-that kind of taboo romance you know I like-since the guy is quite a bit older. As in, he has two kids who are the same age and older than her, but the whole thing is pretty hot. He’s like 15 or 16 years older than her I think, I can’t exactly remember but he’s the big buff type yknow? Tattoos, muscles, sexy voice and everything you could want in a man-one of those who sees the girl and immediately knows it’s always been her-”

“Yeah but I don’t always know how I feel about that, like it can be kind of weird sometimes-”

“But in this one he saves her life and that’s why they’re like connected-” Rooster heard a breathy sigh come from behind the stacks and raised his eyebrows, wondering who on earth was saying all of this. “-and then years later-he goes to prison for killing a man-” He stifled another cough, almost spluttering at the ease with which you said this, “-years later he comes back and she’s of age and legal and everything and he’s a lot older so now they’re sexually drawn to each other, and he has a MOTORBIKE! Hot right?? Actually if I remember right, they have sex on the bike at one point-” Rooster almost dropped his phone. “But it’s very much like a daddy-dore kind of thing yknow?”

“Ohhhh okay yeah yep I see what you mean, yeah I think I should buy that book. You can order it in for me yeah?”

“Exactly-something about an older man who knows what he’s doing right? And of course, it should be here in two days if I order it before I close up.”

His eyes were wide at this point, unsure what to do with what he had just heard as he listened to both of you say your goodbyes, and someone walk out the door. He was uncertain why, but he wanted to hear you talk more about that book. Or about any book. It was like your voice had drawn him in, and now he just wanted to hear you carry on talking no matter what the subject was. Then he blinked, kicked his brain into gear and actually started looking at the books in front of him, working his way through the shelves as he heard you walk back to the back of the store. 

After looking through all the fiction shelves, he found out he still didn’t really know what he wanted to read. Nothing leapt out at him, and then he saw a handwritten sign on one of the walls, telling him he was welcome to ask for recommendations at the counter if he was stuck. Rooster grinned a little as he realised he could literally just go up to the counter and get you to talk about books. Maybe you would tell him about that sexy one you seemed to love so much-he certainly wouldn’t complain. He made his way to the till-except there was no one there. He rang the small bell in front of him, and a muffled shout came from behind the partition on the other side.

“One moment!”

You walked out a few seconds later, holding a mug and sipping as you made your way to the counter. Setting it down on the counter, you smiled gently at him and asked what you could help him with.

Your voice was even prettier directed towards him, and he found himself wanting to hear you talk to him for as long as he possibly could. But don’t think about it too much, Rooster, just don’t-it is not going to do any good if you think about how pretty she is and how you are evidently much older and she has literally just said she liked older men and also really do not think about her saying daddy don’t do it-

He thought about it. 

And he thought about it for long enough that your brow furrowed as you repeated your question, snapping him out of his reverie. 

“Oh-yes, sorry, I just wasn’t sure what to read and that handy little sign over there said you could help me?” He rested his hands on the counter and leaned forward a little, consciously flexing the muscles in his arms as he did so. You didn’t look down, and he found himself slightly disappointed. 

“Of course-recommending books is one of my favourite things to do. Any particular genre in mind? Fiction or nonfiction?”

“I know I’d like a fiction book, but the genre doesn’t bother me too much. Probably not horror or sci fi, they usually don’t appeal to me-everything else is on the table though.” Rooster smirked as he finished his sentence, really hoping you caught the innuendo-though he couldn’t tell if you did or not as your face stayed in that same smile as you listened. You leaned forward on the desk a little, pondering what he said and inadvertently giving him a nice view of your cleavage. He thought it was accidental anyway.

“So fantasy, romance, contemporary-anything like that? Absolutely anything? You don’t have any preferences at all?” 

“Oh I have a few, believe me-but I think you probably have good judgement with this. I’m trusting you here darlin’.” You raised an eyebrow in slight surprise at the endearment, and then dipped your head-but not before he saw the grin pulling at the corners of your mouth. He was caring less and less about the book he was getting by the second, thinking he just wanted your number now instead. Not to be thinking too far ahead, but you are an older man Rooster, and you do know what you’re doing. It sure would be a…pleasurable experience showing her a few things.

“Hm okay, I have a completely random one in mind-there’s an equal chance it will or won’t be your thing, but there’s no harm in trying it. We got a few of the sequels in lately but there should be the first one on a shelf somewhere in here, sir, I’ll just check it on our system,” You nodded at him as you finished speaking, watching him shift slightly as you called him ‘sir’. 

Where on earth had you been hiding in this town? He would have stopped in this store much much sooner if he knew someone like you were in here. You were incredibly pretty, which couldn’t help appreciating, but you were professional with him, evidently passionate about books and sounded as though you sincerely enjoyed recommending or just talking about books. A sudden urge gripped him, his heart tugging at him as he pictured you reading to him on his porch. You’d look so lovely, so domestic, on the sofa he had out there, with the waves roaring in the background and your voice washing over him. He’d wager you could read an encyclopaedia and he’d still be enraptured. 

“No worries, don’t mind waiting for you.” He rested his forearms on the counter this time, looking up at you as you bit your lip and tried not to smile at his reply. 

“Oh-the system is telling me both that we don’t have any here and that they should be on shelf B4-how odd. I’ll just go and check that for you if you’re okay waiting a few more minutes?” 

“Anything for you darlin’.” You rolled your eyes at him and came out from behind the counter to check the shelves. Yeah, maybe that line was a little too far. Reign it in Rooster come on, it won’t do to scare off a woman you’ve apparently instantly fallen in love with. Calm. Down. 

He turned and leaned back as he watched you run your fingers over the spines of dozens of books. It wasn’t like he actually tried to stop, but there was no way he could help trailing his eyes over your form. He pressed his lips together as he looked at the low cut back of your shirt, clearly showing you weren’t wearing any kind of bra-he hadn’t wanted to leer when you could see him but this confirmed what he had guessed when his eyes had flickered to your cleavage-and the fabric was tucked into a pair of form fitting shorts. Rooster’s tongue poked out to lick his lips as he watched you bend to look at a lower shelf and press your ass back towards him slightly. He heard you hum, and his eyes barely moved back up to your face in time as you stood suddenly to turn back around. Something in your expression told him you realised what he had been doing anyway. 

He had the good grace to be a little ashamed, at least, and offered you a sheepish smile which you grinned at in return. Rooster was suddenly desperate to make a good impression, needing you to approve of him and not think he just wanted to fuck you and move on. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t appear to have that book after all. I can find something else for you, or order it in for you to come back in and collect in a couple of days time?” You rounded the till again and leaned on the countertop, your face suddenly close to his and a small smile growing. “It’s up to you.” His gaze flicked down to your lips briefly before darting back up, and he grinned lazily, pressing in another few millimetres. 

“I think I’d like the book you picked out for me specially darlin’, and I can come back to collect it so you can see me again huh?”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, and Rooster almost missed it as you leaned back, professional once again as you tapped away on the computer. He furrowed his brows, grin fading as he wondered what he’d said. Don’t say I’ve messed this up already and don’t even know how. Please. You picked up your mug again as you started speaking.

“Can I take a name for that order sir?”

“Oh, uh yeah-Bradley Bradshaw-” He stopped suddenly as you coughed into your cup, some of your drink splashing out. You slowly put the cup down, wiping at your mouth and very obviously trying not to laugh. 

“I’m sorry what?” Rooster looked at you, slightly confused as to why you were laughing and questioning him, and he spoke slightly slower, thinking you must have misheard something.

“Bradley. Bradshaw.”

“Okay, but what? You’re called Brad Bradshaw?”

“Yes, I am?”

“Are you sure?” He held back his own laugh at your slow, deliberately spoken question, trying to hide how much he was enjoying your back and forth.

“...Pretty sure. But fine, use Rooster.”

“Sir, with all due respect, what the fuck?” His eyebrows shot up as you swore, and his mind immediately filled with various trains of thought. Did you swear often? Was it rare so he was lucky to hear it? Did you swear when you were being pleasured? Did you let out slow, moaned words? Or were they breathy and gasped, next to his ear? Would you swear at him if he woke you up early in the morning, playfully telling him to fuck off if he tried to get you out of bed?

Reign. It. In.

“Rooster. My callsign-everyone calls me Rooster.”

“What in the fratboy-I don’t know how to respond right now.”

“What in the-what? Ma’am?”

“I’m going to put you down as Mr. Bradshaw, is that okay?”

“Well-it’s technically Lieutenant, if you’d like to be precise.” He had straightened up as you went back and forth, but leaned down again, edging closer to you as he not-so-subtly flaunted his rank. You sent him a look he couldn’t decipher and didn’t move in like you had before, leaving him wondering yet again what he had said. 

“Noted, Lieutenant. Our system has no room for testosterone though, so I’m still going to list you as Mr. Bradshaw.” 

Rooster felt his cheeks heat a little, realising you weren’t very impressed with his attempt at showboating. It didn’t stop him replaying the way your lips formed his title, how it sounded coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear it forever.

“And if I could get your number as well.” His eyebrows raised as you slid a pen and slip of paper towards him, which he grabbed a little too quickly judging by the amused look you sent his way. 

“Darlin’ I have been waiting for you to ask since I saw those shorts hugging your-”

Once again leaning down to meet him halfway over the counter, you stopped a few centimetres away from his face and smiled as his breathing hitched at your sudden closeness. 

“It’s so I can call you when the book arrives, Lieutenant,” you whispered to him.

Rooster closed his eyes and hung his head, listening to your melodic laugh as you moved away to carry on typing at the computer. He really wasn’t doing as well as he had hoped he would here.

He wrote his number down speedily, pushing it back towards you and trying to avoid eye contact. You typed it in and clicked once more, looking over to him and smiling as you held out a receipt. 

“It’ll be here in two days time-bring this receipt in and say you’re here to collect Fury. I’ll most likely be here and will definitely remember you, but to be on the safe side, that's the book I’ve ordered for you.”

“Well, thank you very much, I’ll certainly be back. And uh, sorry about-”

“Don’t worry about it Lieutenant, it was…entertaining, in a way.” 

You sent him another look he couldn’t quite decipher and he pushed up, turning to leave before he felt your hand on his arm suddenly. Rooster jolted at the touch, immediately assessing the feel of your skin on his. He liked it way too much.

“You’re welcome to drop in anytime, even if you’re not picking the book up. Who knows-maybe I’ll be wearing these shorts again.” You smirked at him as his eyebrows shot up, unable to figure out if you were joking or not. Deciding to take the leap, he slipped his arm out of your hold to grasp your hand, brushing his thumb over the centre of your wrist as he watched your playful expression carefully.

“Maybe I will, sweetheart.”

Before he could stop himself, he winked at you-feeling his chest puff out a little when your tongue flicked over your bottom lip at the action. 

He walked out of the shop feeling significantly better than he did when he walked in, thinking about you and the urge he had to get to know you better. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but he couldn’t stop smiling as he thought about the way you talked about the book you were obviously passionate about, how you had described what you found attractive (which was pretty much him thank fuck), how you put him in his place subtly but firmly-and how you had seemed to flirt back, but not dropped at his feet like so many did. 

-

When he met the others at the Hard Deck for drinks later that day, Rooster was still grinning ear to ear. Phoenix and Bob exchanged a curious look and leaned in.

“Are you high?”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

They spoke at the same time, flashing each other a warning look before Phoenix sat back and waved for Bob to continue.

“Why dyou look so happy? Not that there’s anything wrong with it obviously but you’re grinning very widely and you haven't looked like that for a while-”

“Well Bob, I met my wife today.”

Phoenix spat her drink out, ignoring Hangman’s indignant look at the beer coughed onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry could you repeat that for me? You met…your wife? Today? As in-you were married and only met her today?!?”

“No-what? No, I met the woman who is going to be my wife.”

Her and Bob shared a look again, more worried than anything now.

“Rooster, honey, did you hit your head in training? Can you just explain to me what happened?”

“I met this woman, told her my name, she laughed in my face and we flirted a little. She didn’t want my number though. Man, she is gonna look gorgeous in a wedding dress.” 

He leaned back in his chair, chuckling into his beer bottle as the rest of the pilots looked on with open mouths.

part 2

what do you think about this?

Like I Can (Part 1)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fuff, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 3.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(We’re kicking of Valentine’s Day a bit early❣️ Enjoy!)

“I’m all for growing the sport, but Brady buying an MLP team is ruining the integrity of the league. He may be the GOAT of football, but he has nothing on Ben John’s world-class pickleball game,” your date Max passionately states from his spot across from you at the Italian place he had recommended.

Or was his name Mac?

He’d already told you all about the CRBN paddle drama. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had already prepared a PowerPoint presentation on the topic complete with transitions and color-coded charts. He seems the type.

And he had yet to ask you a single question about yourself all evening.

You can tell he is gearing up for the next part of his rant, when your phone lights up on the table, the ringer on higher than you realized.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought I had this on silent. It’s my mom, I should probably take this,” you apologize to him, your phone already halfway raised to your ear.

“Hey, kid, how’s it going?”

“Hi Mom, I’m with someone right now. Is everything ok?” You let a little worry tinge the tone of your voice.

“Seriously?” Rooster drolly rasps on the other end of the line, “Are we actually doing this?”

Keep reading

I love the water one. I'll fill up my own water bottle and completely forget to drink and when I do remember I chug the whole thing. I would definitely need someone to remind me to drink regularly!

care for you - brb

I pairing: bradley (rooster) bradshaw x female reader

I précis: bradley loves taking care of you, so you take care of him<3 4 +1 ways bradley shows you he cares, and one extra for him.

I word count: 1,388

I content + warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of food

also tagging @familyvideostevie i’m so glad you’re a rooster gal now<3 welcome

one

You hadn’t even asked him to. You’d mentioned it in passing, more as a reminder to yourself. The tire pressure light on your dashboard is something you can and have easily taken care of before.

When you leave for work the next morning, Bradley’s already gone. You plug your keys into the ignition and wait for the light to glow. It never lights up, your brows furrowing in confusion. 

Keep reading

Aftercare | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

Because I made this AU and then I had thoughts because I'm personally a whore for aftercare. Made this as inclusive as possible! TGM masterlist. Mentions of unprotected sex, minors dni, 18+!

Aftercare with Rooster is him checking in with you as soon as he regains his breath, his eyes darting between your own and the sight of his cum covering belly and breasts.

"Are you okay sweetheart? I didn't go to far did I?"

" I'm perfect Roo."

"That's good darling, you did so good for me. You're always so good."

Rooster is helping you off the bed while kissing up and down your legs, both of your hands in his as he gently pulls you up to your feet.

He insists on showering first to delicately clean off the mix of your cum and sweat, holding you still against his broad frame as you stand on your still shaky legs and taking his sweet time with the washcloth to wash every glorious inch of your body.

He steps out and gives you a moment of privacy to do what you need to (pee after sex my friends, I'm begging!!!) before returning to run you both a hot bath.

As the bath runs he grabs you both a glass water/wine, whichever you prefer and you set to work finding the perfect playlist to fill the silence.

Bradley is, like most men, fairly basic when it comes to his own self care but when it comes to you he insists on you having the best he can find.

Which is exactly why he has a secret stash of Lush bath bombs and bubble bars hidden in his bathroom cabinet. Lavender, jasmine, chamomile filling the air as he drops them in the warm water and mixing well with the vanilla candles he's lit that surround the sink counter and bathtub.

Sitting in the tub first he makes himself comfortable before reaching out a bubble covered hand to you, helping you nestle yourself between his thighs and sets to work washing your hair.

Having been together long each he knows your routine by heart and takes pride in being able to do it for you, softly singing along to the song playing as he massages your scalp. Your hums of pleasure telling him he's doing a good job whilst reminding him of what was happening not long before.

While you stay in the comforting bubbles he makes his way to the kitchen in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants to start making you both something to eat.

It's nothing fancy, just a few grilled cheese sandwiches because even if you tell him you're not hungry he won't be satisfied until you have something warm in your belly.

By the time he's finished cooking he can hear you getting out of the bathtub so he sets your plates down on the bedside table and grabs out some clothes for you.

Finding a pair of panties you left the last time you stayed at his place and an old worn and stretched out Navy t-shirt he knows you love to steal from him he looks up to find you in the doorway wrapped in a towel with nothing but pure love in your eyes.

Quickly helping you change he knows you can do it on your own but genuinely loves taking care of you as much as he loves fucking you senseless. Sweet nothings whispered into your skin as he helps to tug your clothes on.

Together you get comfortable in each others arms on his king sized bed, you finding your favorite sitcom to watch mindlessly on his TV as he feeds you in between laughs which only makes you laugh more.

Eventually your laughs come to a stop which is when Bradley looks down to find you asleep on his chest, a content smile on your lips, he turns the TV off and pulls the duvet around you both.

Nuzzling his face into your sweet smelling hair, he finally lets himself drift off to sleep with you...

THIS IS AMAZING!! I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HANK!!

A Little Bit Stronger

Part 1

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OFC/You

Summary:

Fear is the only thing Shae Williams feels after years of abuse at the hands of her ex-husband. After an encounter where he nearly takes her life, she’s finally free of him…until he finds out where she’s staying. Fear forces her to take the help of the only person who’s offered and is introduced to Bradley Bradshaw in the process.

The last thing Shae needs right now is a relationship and the fact that Bradley understands and respects her wishes makes him that much harder to resist.

Warnings: Just like everything else / write/post: this story is for 18+ only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. It will contain smut, adult themes, situations and language. Please also note this story may be triggering due to the topic of domestic abuse (physical, emotional, sexual) violence-feel free to message me with any questions before reading.

*This is the Bradley from All of Me (Jake and Reese’s story). You should be able to be read as a stand-alone but it doesn’t hurt to start there.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

2 months prior.

“Why don’t you stay here for a few minutes,” Chad sneers, pushing his seed back inside you that’s beginning to leak out. He’s not gentle; it hurts, causing tears to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to wince, “give my swimmers a few extra minutes to find that egg,” he laughs.

They won’t. The Depo injection you got a few weeks ago at Planned Parenthood after Chad had found your hidden birth control pills will prevent that. It would be a cold day in hell before you brought an innocent child into this mess. The bruises from that beating were nearly healed now.

“Okay,” you reply, cold and numb.

“Dinner reservations are at tonight 6, so I’ll be here at 5:30 to pick you up,” Chad says from the bathroom as he starts the shower, “wear that black dress with the low back I like.”

“I will,” you lie.

If all goes to plan, you’ll be a few hours away by then, where he can’t find you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You get up as soon as he leaves, wanting nothing more than to get out of this hellhole but needing to wash the evidence of his abuse off of your body.

Your heart is pounding as you pull your suitcases out from the bottom of your closet, already packed and ready to go. Your sweaty hands tremble, barely able to pick up your last-minute supplies to toss them in a tote.

You lift the mattress and reach under where you made a slit, locating the cash you’ve been hiding there and pulling it out before packing it too.

With that cash and the money you transferred into a secret account when you had been working, you should be set until you find a job.

You set your phone on the kitchen table and take a slow, deep breath before walking towards the door.

The handle turns as you reach out to open it; your stomach does too.

“I’m so fucking glad I installed those cameras last week when you were at Pilates,” Chad chuckles darkly as you drop the suitcase, backing away in terror.

He grabs your ponytail when you turn to run, and you cry out loudly at the burning pain in your scalp as he yanks you back. “You’re not going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever,” he seethes in your ear. Your stomach rolls in disgust as you can feel him hard against your ass; he’s getting off on this. “You belong to me.”

He pushes you into the table by the door, causing the flower vase atop it to fall and shatter.

“Stupid, ungrateful bitch,” he seethes, stepping over the mess before kicking your hunched form in the ribs, stealing the breath in your lungs from the sharp, searing pain as you land on the hardwood.

It only takes two steps before he’s on you again, gripping your shoulder and turning you to face him. His eyes are full of rage, his pupils dilated from the line he snorted in the car as he spits, “I thought you’d finally learned after the birth control incident. I should’ve known…”

Your head whips to the side and you taste blood when he backhands you, splitting your lip.

You can’t catch your bearings as you try to appease him with an apology; pain radiating from your cheek and there’s a deafening, high-pitched ringing in your ears, “I’m sorry Chad, let me explain-“

Pain explodes in the left side of your face a second later as he punches you as hard as he can before the world goes dark.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Shae?” says a familiar voice, sounding so far away. “Shae, honey, wake up.”

Your right eye slowly blinks open to the bright fluorescent lights; the left is swollen shut and pulsing painfully. The beeping of the heart monitor increases and the pain in your ribs makes itself known as everything comes rushing back.

The police officers arriving, the EMTs putting you on the stretcher, the chilling look in his eyes as you were rolled past, the favorite doctor you worked for giving you a sedative when you arrived in her ER panicking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dr. Akins murmurs, putting her hand on yours, “he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.”

You slowly nod. “Where,” you croak, tongue feeling like sandpaper, “where is he?”

“Sitting in jail,” she replies.

“But-“

“For 24 hours,” she assures you, “even with his connections, he won’t be getting out early.”

You nod, still a little dazed and disoriented as you take a drink of the water she offers. “Thank you.”

“He’s why you quit, huh?” Dr. Akins asks. Not judging, just observant.

You nod again.

“What happened? Today I mean,” she clarifies.

“I was leaving,” you whisper, wincing when you look down from the pain in your eye from the movement. “He came home.”

“How did he know? Did you tell anyone?” She asks gently.

“No,” you reply, “not a soul. He said something about installing cameras last week.”

“That’s not legal in the state of California, Shae,” she says softly, stroking her thumb over your hand, “neither is beating your wife half to death.”

You nod once again, gasping from the pain in your ribs when you sit up, “I’ve gotta get out of here before he’s released.”

“Where will you go?” She asks.

“I’m going to rent an Airbnb in San Diego,” you wince as you try to smile, quickly reminded of the split in your lip, “My parents met there when my dad was in the Navy. I visited after college and fell in love. It was the first place that came to mind the…” you trail off.

“The what?”

“The last time this happened,” you whisper, “he found out I was secretly taking birth control since we started trying for a baby…he thought being a family man would help him get a promotion at work…as if that canceled out the alcoholism, drug use, and anger problems.”

“Oh Shae,” she replies. Your eyes fill as you look away when you hear the tears heavy in her voice.

She stands and gently wraps you in a hug, letting you cry for the next few minutes. She hands you a tissue before taking one for herself.

“So…you’ve got an orbital fracture that thankfully doesn’t need surgery, no concussion but you’re gonna have a helluva headache, 3 broken ribs, a split lip, and a few other bumps and bruises,” she says finally, not sugar coating it.

You close your eyes, knowing they’ll want to keep you overnight for another observation.

“There’s two officers from Sacramento PD waiting to talk with you,” she continues, “but I’ll get you discharged when they’re done. As a nurse, I trust you know what signs and symptoms to watch for?”

You open your eyes and nod, “Thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You’re tight-lipped during the conversation with the officers with the entire police department in Chad’s back pocket.

You do ask for a restraining order, knowing it’s just a piece of paper, but it gives you a little peace of mind. You don’t press any further charges either; nothing will come of the ones already existing and you refuse to add fuel to his fire.

“Here’s your discharge papers,” Dr. Akins hands you the stapled stack after they leave, “and a little something from a few of the doctors here. We haven’t forgotten you, Shae.”

“Dr. Akins, you-“ you start but she interrupts.

“Just be safe, okay? My number is in there too, please let me know when you’re settled.”

“Okay,” you whisper, ignoring the shooting pain in your ribs as you pull her in for a final hug, “thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You try not to, but you can’t help but cry when you open the envelope in the Uber that Dr. Akins ordered. A letters of recommendation from her and two other doctors you worked with also, and enough bills to make you feel light-headed.

“Here’s fine,” you tell the driver when he pulls onto your street and is a few houses from yours.

You feel paranoid, but knowing Chad, he’ll check the Ring as soon as he gets released. If he sees a man brought you home, you wouldn’t put it past him to look up the license plate and have his cronies at the police station pull him over; it doesn’t matter that it’s just the man’s job.

“You sure?” He looks skeptically over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah,” you sigh when you try again to smile, tasting blood again when you open the cut in your bottom lip, “thanks.”

Ed, your sweet old neighbor, comes running when he spots you gingerly getting out of the car. “Shae!” He cries when he reaches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, afraid to hurt you, “oh your beautiful eye,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he scans your face. “I happened to see him come home, and I knew he wasn’t happy the way he slammed his car door. I’m sorry I called 911, but I heard you yell and then a crash.”

“It’s okay,” you begin to cry too, hating how distressed he is. You’d had quickly befriended him and his wife, Jean, when you moved in. They reminded you so much of your late parents and that’s exactly why Chad put an end to the relationship. “I’m glad you did, Ed.”

“I’m so sorry about Jean,” you continue, guilt overwhelming you. “I wanted to go to the funeral so badly.”

She had passed away nearly a year ago from cancer. You earned a slap across the face when you asked Chad to go to her funeral.

“It’s okay, honey. She knew you loved her and she loved you too,” he replies, pulling you in for the most gentle, tender hug.

The gesture breaks the dam inside you and you begin to sob; body-shaking, from-the-soul sobs.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Come inside,” Ed asks when you finally relax, “Just for a minute. I’ve got a slice of apple pie with your name on it. You’ve gotten too thin.”

“Okay,” you whisper, letting him take your hand.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Do you have my number in your new phone?” Ed asks by his front door after he feeds you not one, but two pieces of his homemade pie. It was your favorite and yet another thing Chad didn’t let you have.

You insist Ed stays home while you get your suitcases, not knowing the whereabouts of Chad’s cameras. The last thing you want is someone else getting hurt, especially Ed.

You nod, “It was the first number I put it, I still have it memorized. Promise you’ll come to see me when things settle?”

If they ever settle. Your heart sinks with the thought that this mess will never stop; not until he’s in prison or one of you ends up dead.

“I will,” he kisses your forehead, and hands you an envelope from his pocket, “here honey, take this.”

“Ed, no. I can’t,” you argue, eyes widening as you feel the wad of cash inside, “Really, I’ll be okay. I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“It was Jean’s idea,” he smiles sadly, “she knew you’d get out someday and we both wanted you to have a cushion.”

“Ed,” your voice breaks and you start to cry again. Your head was pounding, your ribs screamed with every breath and you were getting more anxious as more time passed.

“Take it and use it,” he says, putting his hand in his pocket so you can’t hand it back, “hire a lawyer, get that dog you always wanted, take a nice vacation, whatever you want, honey. Besides, he can’t track cash like he can a card.”

That thought crossed your mind too before you finally nod. “Thank you,” you whisper, giving him a final hug and heading back to your former home.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You step over the drips of your blood and avoid the dead flowers and broken glass, feeling nauseous from anxiety and the pain pulsing through your body when you pick up your discarded bag and right your suitcases.

Your lip still quirks in satisfaction when the wheels of your suitcase drag the sharp pieces of glass over the floor, scratching the hell out of the hardwood he loves.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Ed watches from his front door as you struggle to get your suitcases in the back, but you discreetly shake your head when he opens the door to help. Chad is going to take his anger out somewhere, and you don’t want to make Ed more of a target.

You suppress your groan as you lift the floorboard in the trunk to find your secret cell phone hidden by the spare tire and turn it on after plugging it in while you fasten your seatbelt.

After typing in the address into GPS, you take a deep breath and pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye to Ed and starting your new life.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few weeks later (current day).

“Friday at 11,” you confirm, “I’ll be there, thank you again,” you say before hanging up with the recruiter.

You smile softly; things are looking up. You have an interview scheduled for a nursing position with a general practitioner at the Naval Base, you secured a nice apartment that’ll be ready to move into in a few weeks and Chad would be served with divorce papers any day now.

With the money you saved, the generous gift from the doctors you worked with at the ER, and the downright obscene amount from Ed and Jean, you didn’t need to rush into finding a job. So you had taken a few weeks to find an apartment and hit the beach while you healed; physically at least.

Emotionally though, you were struggling. Most nights you woke up soaked in a cold sweat, shivering in terror from your nightmares. Loud noises made you flinch. You were constantly having to remind yourself that it’s okay to go out and do what you want.

Dr. Akins checked in with you twice after letting her know you arrived. Ed texted or called almost daily; it was so nice to be able to talk to him freely.

You decide to walk a few blocks to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant you discovered on your first week here for dinner.

Taking a different way back, you come across a large, brown, and white dog tied outside a clothing shop.

The sign in the window above him reads, ‘Dog is for sale. Inquire within’.

His big, fluffy tail begins to wag when he realizes you’re approaching him and he lifts his head when you kneel, “Hi buddy.”

“Hi,” an older woman with a kind smile comes out when she sees you, “are you-“ she cuts off with a sneeze when she gets close.

“Bless you,” you smile.

“Thanks,” she sniffs, “I was trying to ask if you’re interested in him?”

“Oh,” you say, “I can’t…” you trail off as you realize there isn’t anything stopping you. The Airbnb listing said pets were welcome; same with your apartment. “Well…maybe?”

She laughs, sitting on the bench by the door, inviting you to sit beside her. “His name is Hank, he’s a 2-year-old, Great Pyrenees mix. He belonged to my daughter but…she can’t take care of him anymore; she checked herself into rehab,” she sighs sadly, “and will be for a while; she asked me to find him a good home since I’m horribly allergic and there’s too many kill shelters around here,” she answers before you can ask.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, petting his big head when he rests it on your knee, “he’s so sweet.”

“He is,” she confirms before sneezing again, “he listens well, I’ve never heard him bark and I think he’s house trained-I’ve had to keep him in the garage at my house or I can’t breathe-but he hasn’t had any accidents there. I guess he’s a little leery of men too, but she wasn’t hanging around the best crowd either. I took him to the vet-in my car which was a terrible idea, I still sneeze when I open the door,” she laughs, “but they gave him a micro-chip and updated his vaccines. He was given a clean bill of health, I have his records in the store.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes; staring into your soul while tugging at your heartstrings.

“I’ll take him,” you hear yourself saying as you pull out your wallet and pull out all the cash you have in your wallet; around $500. She begins to refuse but you insist, “Please. I know the vet wasn’t cheap, and your daughter will need help getting back on her feet.”

Tears fill her eyes but she eventually nods, “Thank you.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

It doesn’t take long at all for you to fall in love with Hank; his personality is as big as he is. He just had one accident the first night and hasn’t barked a single time.

“How do I look?” You ask him, spinning in front of the mirror as he watches you from his spot on your bed. Dressing up felt nice, even if it was just for a job interview.

You did your best to cover the healing yellow bruise under your eye, but it was still noticeable in certain light.

He hops off the bed and nudges your thigh with his head before looking up at you in the mirror.

“Thanks, I think so too,” you smile down at him. “I’ll be back in a little bit, you be a good boy.”

He’s asleep on the bed before you shut the door.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Hi, you must be Shae,” the pretty woman greeting smiles as she offers her hand. “I’m Reese, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you reply.

“Please,” she gestures to the chairs across her desk as she sits, “have a seat.”

Your eyes squint when the sunlight catches your face as you sit before giving her your resume. “I also have letters of recommendation from my nursing instructor and a few of the doctors I’ve worked with,” your cheeks heat as you hand them over next.

Your stomach sinks as her gaze pauses on your concealed bruise before she scans the information given.

Your nerves settle as she asks questions and gives you different scenarios. Dr. Kerner is confident, witty and you get the impression she doesn’t take shit from anyone; which is needed when the majority of her patients are cocky men.

“Well, I’ve seen enough,” she smiles, “you can expect to from HR soon for the formal offer,” your heart soars and then sinks when her brow furrows slightly when she glances down again at her resume, “Oh, is this current?”

Your nerves come back full force and your hands twist nervously in your lap, “Yes, it’s current.”

“It’s okay,” she replies softly, picking up on your anxiety, “HR will ask why it's been 2 years since you worked last. What should I tell them?”

You feel yourself dissociate as you look out the window. “My husb-I mean, ex-husband…he didn’t want me to work.”

She nods, looking at your healing eye and piecing together where it came from. “Shae?”

You flinch slightly as you snap out of it, before meeting her eyes.

“I’m just going to tell them it was due to family reasons,” she says, watching as you sag in relief. “Are you safe though?”

“I am,” you reply, touching the slight discoloration under your eye, “I am now. He’s…a few hours away, and I have a dog now.”

“Okay,” she replies with a small smile, reaching for a pen and notepad. “Here’s my number if that changes okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, touched by her gesture. You had very few people in your corner, and they all lived hours away. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies, rising to her feet. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“I hope so too,” you smile genuinely for the first time.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“HR will be in touch soon,” Dr. Kerner says as she escorts you from her office, smiling down the hall. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, eyes following hers to two men approaching.

The blonde gives you a friendly smile before locking eyes with Dr. Kerner. While he’s attractive, it’s evident he only has eyes for her.

The darker-haired one with a mustache is downright hot. The way he gives you a quick, appreciative once over before flashing you a grin has you blushing like a virgin.

You quickly head outside, feeling an odd mixture of emotions; unnecessary guilt for looking at another man, excitement that someone so good-looking finds you attractive, relief that you can still feel attraction, and nervousness that you might/might not see him again if you get the job.

Once inside your car, you blast the AC to cool your heated cheeks as you make your way back to your temporary home.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A few days pass before receiving the call that you have the job and you agree to start the following Monday.

You hardly sleep the night before and arrive before nearly everyone.

“Ready for your first day?” Dr. Kerner smiles when she sees you at your desk.

“I am,” you answer, “I looked over your preferences while I waited. It all looks familiar so I shouldn’t have any problem getting caught up to speed.”

“I didn’t figure you would,” she replies, “let me give you a quick tour and we’ll get the day started.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

By lunch, you’re already getting the hang of things.

“I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without you,” Dr. Kerner smiles as she checks the time, “seriously, you’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, flushing as you look down at your shoes, so unused to compliments.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, “I usually have lunch in here with Jake, my boyfriend, and Rooster, an old friend of mine. They’re both naval aviators.”

“Rooster?” You ask, looking up confused.

“Ah, sorry, that’s his callsign,” she laughs, “his real name is Bradley; you can call him either. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve gotta let my dog out. I haven’t found anyone to walk him yet; I’m pretty sure he’d be fine all day but I’m staying at an Airbnb until my apartment is ready in a few weeks so I don’t want to risk any accidents,” you reply. It’s the truth, but you’re still unsure and uneasy about a lot of things.

“Understandable,” she replies, “the offer stands if and when you want to.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile of your own.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Some friends of mine are having a get-together for the 4th at their house on the beach,” Dr. Kerner says at the end of the first day, “you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to answer right now,” she continues when you clam up, “and there’s no pressure, either. You can say no.”

The rising tension inside you falls when she gives you a choice.

“I’ll think about it,” you answer truthfully, “if that’s okay?”

“Of course. There’s no rush; Penny will be plenty of food and drinks either way,” she gives you a reassuring smile as she picks up her keys. “Have a good night, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” you smile back, “you too.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The next few weeks pass quickly and June turns to July.

You were still in the rental and hadn’t had lunch with Dr. Kerner yet, but you could feel yourself slowly opening up to her.

“See ya after lunch,” she calls as you pick up your keys to head out, “tell Hank I said hi.”

“I will,” you laugh, “be back in a bit.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Something is off when you unlock the door to the rental.

Hank, who’s normally asleep on the bed, is restlessly pacing.

“What’s up, buddy?” You ask, crouching to kiss him.

He’s distracted though, aggressively sniffing the welcome mat.

“Gotta go potty?” You ask, grabbing his leash, “Let’s go.”

He sits down right beside you when you get to the grass, sniffing the air and looking around.

“C’mon bud, go potty,” you coax.

He eventually takes a few steps to do his business but comes right back when he’s done.

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Be a good boy,” you murmur as you close the door while he stands there and watches, again so unlike him.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Hey,” Dr. Kerner says when you come back from lunch, looking down at her phone, “the last patient canceled, so we’ll be done early today. How was Hank?”

“Acting a little weird, but good,” you reply, brow furrowed, “he’s usually asleep when I get home, but he was up and pacing by the door. I thought he had to go potty really bad but he didn’t go without some coaxing. Who knows, probably just heard a squirrel or something.”

“Probably,” she agrees, her tone giving away that it doesn’t sit right with her.

It doesn’t sit right with you either.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

After saying goodbye to Dr. Kerner, you head home a few hours later.

Hank is again, or still, by the door.

You order food to be delivered while he eats his, sitting down on the couch with a beer while you wait.

You mull it over in your head before pulling your phone out to compose a text.

Shae: Hey Dr. Kerner, I’ve thought it over. I’d be happy to join you tomorrow if the offer still stands.

But there’s a knock at the door before you send it.

You rise to your feet, Hank gets up too, surprising you as he growls in your presence for the first time.

“It’s okay, just the delivery driver,” you coo before calling, “just a minute,” as you grab some cash for a tip.

“Wow, that was fast-“ you start to say as you open the door, but your head whips to the side. You hear the sharp slap to your cheek and eye before the pain can register.

The force of his backhand knocks you back a step and Chad follows you, gripping your arm so tightly you cry out in pain. He’s full of rage, his breath reeks of bourbon as spits in your face, “You think you can divorce me?! After everything I’ve done for-FUCK!”

Chad screams when Hank latches onto his clothed arm with a low growl. The force of his lunge pushes Chad back into the doorframe but you grab Hank’s collar to haul him off before he sinks his teeth into something more vital.

“Leave,” you say, voice shaking and barely audible over Hank’s snarls, “now.”

“This isn’t over,” he says, holding his arm as he takes taking a step back, “and that dog is dead.”

You slam the door closed behind him, locking it before falling to the floor with a sob.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Hank lays down beside you, setting his head in your lap as he senses your distress. “You’re such a good boy,” you whisper, stroking his soft fur.

But he starts to growl again a few minutes later when a loud knock startles you both.

“San Diego PD, open up.”

You hold Hank’s collar as you crack the door to verify. “Just a minute, I’m going to put my dog in the bedroom; he’s a little worked up.”

The host of the AirBnb shows up shortly after, holding the bag of your forgotten food.

Adrenaline wearing off, your face begins to throb in time with his fingerprints on your arm as you explain what happened to the officers. You feel numb as they take pictures of your injuries, but you don’t hold much hope when the officers say they’ll find him.

The Airbnb host gives you more bad news before leaving too.

You try to compose yourself as you start to pack but hopelessness of the situation begins to set in, and you feel suddenly feel completely overwhelmed. Your thoughts begin to race before you pick up the phone; feeling as if you have no other choice but to turn to the only person that might help.

Your heart races as the line rings.

“Shae?” she answers, “what’s up?”

There’s faint music in the background.

“Hi Dr. Kerner,” you say, trying to sound calm, “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

“Please, call me Reese,” she reminds you gently, “you’re not bothering me. Is everything okay?”

“No,” your voice breaks, “it’s not. Chad…my ex, he found me.”

“Where are you? Is he there now?” She asks, anxious now.

“No, he took off when Hank bit him,” you sniff, zipping one of your packed suitcases closed, “I’m still at the Airbnb, packing my stuff.”

“Okay,” she sighs, her relief evident until your last words sink in, “Okay. Packing your-wait, why are you packing?”

“The police came a few minutes after he left; one of the units heard the commotion. The unit owner came while I was giving my statement,” You answer, walking down the short hallway to the living room, “I guess the other tenants complained to him and are scared-understandably so-but said I needed to be out…tonight.”

“Oh Shae,” she says, “I’m so sorry. Let me come help you?”

“Okay.” Both of you are surprised when you agree.

“I’m at the Hard Deck-which is a bar-with Jake and Bradley. Oh shoot, I forgot we rode together. Hang one sec,” she pauses, “I’ll order an Uber.”

“They can come too,” you say, more anxiety setting in as you look at the clock, “if they want to, I mean. I…I think I need all the help I can get. I’ve got to be out in about an hour.”

“Okay,” she says, murmuring something before coming back on the line, “they’re happy to help, Shae. Text me the address, we’re getting in the truck now.”

“I will, oh…” you cringe when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror above the couch. Your right eye is bloodshot from the trauma, below on your cheek is puffy and still red, and his fingerprints already purpling your arm. It’s nothing compared to last time, but it’s still startling, “and Reese? I should warn you, I look…rough.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Well…what do you guys think? Did everything make sense (especially for those who haven’t read All of Me).

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than you know.

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my taglist…and if I forgot to add you-it wasn’t intentional, just let me know!

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hookslove1592

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@djs8891

@lonelysoul504

@mrsevans90

@landpiranha-blog

@bellaireland1981

@shanimallina87

@writtingrose

@fandomology101

@amiets2

@psuedochakra

@lyn-js

@averagereader35

@emma8895eb

@els-marvelvsp

@seitmai

Ok but this hits home way too much 😭😭 like I'm actually crying. My dad in freshman year of highschool, helped me buy my first car which was my truck, a tan 1989 f-150, named spirit. We drove from Southern Wisconsin all the way to Idaho during spring break to get it. It took us 5 days. It was so expensive driving out there and Wyoming kept closing the roads because of so much snow. That man spent so much of his time and money rebuilding it just for me and I love the thing to death. He bought me everything I wanted to put on the truck just short of a new paint job. I had expensive bumpers, a spare engine, tires, KC headlights, a roll bar, and even new interior parts that cost fortunes. Honestly this seriously brings me to tears. I hope I find as good of a man as my father, one that's willing to do these things for me just because he loves me. Cause God only knows that cars are the way to my heart. Thank you so much for writing this, your work is a god send as always. I'm gonna go sit and cry for a bit, maybe even call my dad and tell him how much I love him 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

To anyone who reads this reblog, def go read the actual story, it's amazing 👏

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception. 

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning. 

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

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

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched. 

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

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

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

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

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights. 

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

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

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged. 

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door. 

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

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

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

Hello everyone, I am Fatuma Ali from Gaza. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin, just an injection for today to save my life please I beg. I was diagnosed with Latent Autoimmune Diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week. My donation link is attached in the pinned post, I might have sent this ask to you earlier but kindly consider donating and sharing. This is the only option I have at the moment to save my life from going to coma.

BOOST!!!!!

𝓓𝓪𝔂 15 - A Bit Late For Work || Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: In most cases, it's you who makes Bradley late to work, except when his mission is to make you feel relaxed following a stressful day.

Warnings: smut (oral - f receiving)

Word count: 1510

Author: Rouge

A/N: the prompt for today is: Oral Sex

You threw your car keys on the kitchen table and sighed loudly as you opened the refrigerator.

Bradley raised an eyebrow at you as he lowered the newspaper, tipping his glasses in the process.

You had no idea why he wore them. And yet, that small glint off the end when he was staring down at you from between his legs, ah. You shook off the thought, retrieved a water bottle, and sat at the table next to your boyfriend. The idea was nice, but you knew Rooster had work soon, and while you were normally very willing to make him late, you couldn't work up your usual libido.

Bradley could tell something was bothering his lover, and he tilted his head as you sat next to him. He set the paper down, removing his glasses as well, and placing them in his shirt pocket. "Would you like to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Not particularly," you shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle. "You usually feel better when you do," he pointed out.

It was a valid point he made. Nevertheless, you decided it wasn't worth mentioning how much you wanted to change career paths again. All the time you bragged about not being completely satisfied with what you were doing but felt that it was too late to change anything. Even so, you didn't want to go to university any more, and felt like dropping your engineering studies. Your new goal was to become an artist. You were proficient at it too, about as good as you were at university, but pursuing it seemed like a dead dream.

Bradshaw watched you turn your head over. He waited for you to collect your thoughts, and eventually, once you had, he watched you sigh and shrug once more.

"Same thoughts as always, I'm tired of everything."

"You're doing a rather great job with your studies," Bradley pointed out.

You shot him a glare. "Sorry, sorry. I know."

You groaned, cocking your eyebrow.

“It’s about a lifestyle, my bad,” he corrected himself, sending you a soft grin.

"Close enough," you mumbled. But he wasn't wrong this time either. You sighed again, took another swig of water, and then put your forehead down on the table. "Maybe I'm just tired of it, I don't know. I don't feel sick of it though, I love learning and making friends. Maybe I just need a break?"

In response to your words, Bradley slowly rose and walked over to stand behind you. When he reached down, he gently pulled you by your shoulders until you were sitting up straight. He worked at the knots that had inevitably formed there by rubbing his fingers gingerly into the flesh of yours. "You think too much," he remarked with a low chuckle, being a little rougher about the massage. But you could handle it. In fact, Rooster knew just how much his little baby girl could truly handle.

The thought went straight to his groin, and he suddenly had an idea.

As you leaned into his touch, you teased, "Maybe you think too little." 

While you didn't expect the massage to last much longer, you were grateful that Rooster remembered little gestures of kindness so often, especially after the self-doubt you had been dealing with. 

When you suddenly felt his lips on your neck, you let out a quiet moan. You grinned a bit at the warmth of his mouth, but you weren't about to complain. If he had something a little more involved than the massage in mind, you weren't going to stop him obviously.

As his fingers slipped from over your shirt to under it, he stretched the collar just a bit so he was gripping mostly flesh. Like warming oil, his touch bit pleasantly into your shoulders and throughout your body. When you felt Rooster's hand reach down to your breast, you sighed and tensed slightly. He paused there for a moment, and when you leaned into his touch, he reached further down, cupping your entire breast in his hand. Your breath caught in Bradley's ears, and he grinned wider. The beast that resided within his heart loved being able to please you like this. 

Putting one hand on your breast, he slipped his fingers under the lacy fabric of your bra and squeezed your nipple sharply. In response to your breath catching again, he stopped massaging your shoulder with his left hand. In addition, he squeezed your soft nipple and traced his hand down your shoulder blade. Your nipple was squeezed again, causing you to moan, and then he rubbed your shoulder blade with his fingers. The two sensations made a louder moan fall from your lips, and you gripped the chair you were sitting in tightly to keep steady. As his voice filled with hellish lust, Rooster commanded, "Touch yourself." His eyes had changed to all-black; the influence you had on him was indescribable.

The fact that you listened nearly without hesitation made Bradley harder than he thought possible. But he was content to please you this time. After all, you needed the stress relief. He watched through his darkened eyes as your right hand reached between your legs, rubbing lightly before undoing your pants, and pushing them down. Then you reached into your lacy white panties and began moving your hand to the same rhythm Bradley was squeezing your nipple and rubbing your shoulders.

You let out a louder moan as all three sensations collided in the pit of your stomach. Rooster began to move faster, and so did you, until you began to feel your orgasm build. You tensed then, letting out several sharp moans as you came, back arched.

After a few moments, you relaxed, sinking into the chair. You were about to say something, but Rooster was suddenly in front of you, hands on either side of the chair. You  felt a shiver of anticipation roll down your spine when you looked into his darkened eyes, and then he was kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around him, but the kiss was cut short as Bradley moved to grab your thighs and pull you to him. You giggled a bit, then moaned when you felt his lips clasp onto your nipple.             

After a few seconds of teasing, Rooster trailed his lips languidly down your body, and then all the way down between your legs. He grinned as he touched your wet panties and pressed his fingers against your pussy, causing you to moan lightly again. "Take these off,” he demanded within a dark voice of his.

You did as you were told, quickly slipping off the lacy panties.

Shortly after, he wrapped your legs around his shoulders. In one swift movement, Bradley's tongue was pressed against you, causing you to cry out in pleasure as you gripped the chair. He grinned against your wetness and moved the tip of his tongue in little circles across your clit. You were already shivering, and soon as he kissed and licked and began sucking on your clit, he reached under his chin, and easily slipped two fingers into your needy pussy. Having his fingers strangle you properly, your pussy immediately engulfed his digits in its juice, causing you to moan in a low tone. To make your head spin, Rooster pressed his whole tongue to your clit and slowly moved it up and down, eventually reaching your entrance as he briefly spat on the fingers he pulled halfway out of your pussy, just to make them wetter than before. Soon, his digits returned to your pussy, and he curled them deep inside of you, massaging your very sensitive spot.

"Fuck!" You cried, pushing into him as he slowly began to pump his fingers. You moaned again, reaching one hand up to grip onto his hair as you felt another orgasm about to overtake your body. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cut yourself off and rolled your head back as a loud moan fell from your chest. Your legs tightened around his head as your orgasm hit, your legs shaking, your chest heaving.

Bradley held on for the ride, grinning wickedly as you came right into his mouth. He moaned too, rock hard and lustful, but satisfied in your pleasure. He leaned up after allowing you a few moments to breathe.

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, and then Rooster was pulling away, grin wide, eyes back to the normal color you were so fond of. He looked so wicked with the expression his face held though. 

You smiled all the same before looking at the clock on the wall. "You're going to be late, Rooster."

"Fuck," Bradshaw hissed, then laughed, running around to collect his things before heading out. Then he turned, as if recalling something, and was surprised to see you standing in the doorway waiting for him. After you tapped your lips briefly with your index finger, he smiled and kissed you again. "Right."

As your boyfriend ran out, you yelled, "Don't forget your meeting with Mitchell today!"