Nerves of Steel || Bradley Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader || 18+
Synopsis: You're Hangman's younger sister, Steel. By default of the Seresin family code, Jake fights your battles and you fight his. After taking it a little too far during training one day, Rooster puts you in your place.
Warnings: Soft dom vibes from rooster, unprotected sex, oral (m&f), edging, getting caught, this one is longgg
**Minors pls DNI!!**
...
"Jesus, Steel, watch it!" You rolled your eyes. You checked your watch. Not even 40 seconds into the exercise, and Rooster is already on your back, complaining once again. You had met Rooster a while after Jake had; they had been in flight school together, you were eight years younger.
However, you and Rooster had been in Top Gun together four years ago. You got there earlier in your career than he did, and Jake was over the moon when he found out. Jake was a very supportive big brother, he loved it when you succeeded - half because you were from potentially the most competitive family on the planet, half just because.
Jake and Rooster had developed their odd rivalry during flight school, you had later become a third party to it during Top Gun.
You weren't even sure why -- you actually thought Rooster was a pretty fun guy to be around. But, like you and Phoenix had joked about on many occasions, it was hilarious when he got so mad that that vein in his neck popped out.
Well, it had been hilarious. Until you had that dream three weeks ago. You were posted on a mission for four weeks, and on the second to last night, you had had an X-rated dream about Fightertown's very own Bradley Bradshaw. It had truly come out of nowhere, you hadn't ever looked at him like that before.
Now you couldn't stop looking at him.
Especially at that vein on his throat when he was cussing you out.
Today was no different. Rooster was particularly irritated on this occasion. He made that extremely clear as the two of you completed your 200 push-ups out on the tarmac. It was ninety degrees, your flight suits felt like they weighed a tonne, and Rooster's glare felt like it was burning a hole in the side of your head.
Okay, maybe it was your fault that you guys had failed.
You were doing solo exercises with Maverick, he was your wingman. You had gotten a little carried away going after the kill-shot on the older pilot, leaving Rooster open as Maverick 'got' him. Only for Maverick to do another of his insane rolling manoeuvres and secure a missile lock on you just moments later.
"Alright, two-hundred," Hondo confirmed, shaking his head slightly. His arms were folded over his chest as he leaned against the side of Rooster's F-18. He had been watching for the past ten minutes as Rooster glared at you across the tarmac, whilst you silently did your push-ups and pretended not to notice. "You can head inside."
You rolled your shoulders in circles as you stood up, stiff from a hard day of flying and flipping off Rooster as you flew past him at the speed of sound.
"Heard you almost got him, Steel."
You looked up, grinning back at Coyote as he and your older brother crossed the runway towards you. You poked your tongue out just a little,
"You know it!"
Rooster rolled his eyes, stomping away down the tarmac.
"Jeez, what's got his panties in a bunch?" Hangman teased, loud enough for Rooster to hear, shooting a wink at you as he turned back.
"Your sister, as per usual." Coyote answered, instantly wiping the smug look off of Jake's face.
Jake made a disgusted grimace, shaking his head and taking off his sunglasses just so that Coyote knew he was especially serious, "Don't be gross, dude."
When you and Jake had begun working together, you had formulated rules. You were not to sleep with any pilots that you both worked with, and he was not allowed to flirt with your friends. Jake took the no pilots rule very seriously.
"Whatever," You laughed Coyote's comment off, bumping the bottom of your fist against the top of Coyote's, then did the same thing with Jake, "Give him hell for me."
You left the two of them to it, pulling your hair down from its neatly styled, Navy mandated, bun as you made your way to the showers. It was more hairspray than hair after that style, you winced as you attempted to comb your fingers through it.
Walking through the door, you were momentarily startled, stopping in place. Rooster was standing in front of his locker, hair damp and spikey, the chain of his dog tags backwards and resting between his shoulder blades. His white towel was wrapped a little too loosely around his waist, beads of water running slowly down his tanned back.
You hadn't noticed that your lips had parted in surprise until he turned and looked at you over your shoulder and a subconscious part of your brain pressed them shut again.
"Look, if you're here to brag about that dumbass shit you pulled up there," He was already shaking his head, turning back to whatever he was messing with in his locker. You weren't even sure he was speaking English at first - too busy watching the way the muscles in his back flexed as he reached up and placed his boots on top of the lockers.
"I don't wanna hear it."
You blinked, shaking your head quickly and crossing the room to your own locker. Damn the Navy for making its locker room facilities unisex.
"Just here to shower." You put your hands up, mock defensively, before spinning your code into the padlock and clicking it open. You debated it for a moment. He was already pretty mad. He didn't need provoking further.
Yet, "I'm surprised you're done already actually. Didn't know you were capable of going that fast.", you did anyway.
You felt his eyes on the back of your head, smiling to yourself slightly at the reaction. You pretended not to notice, gathering your towel and shower supplies.
Pleased with his silence - rendering a person silent in the Seresin family meant that the argument had been won - you turned, ready to head toward the showers. Alarmed to find yourself now mere centimetres from him, you stumbled back and hit the locker, eyes widening as you craned your neck back to look at him.
You swallowed.
"That attitude's gonna get you in trouble." He warned, his hand resting on the locker beside your hip. You furrowed your eyebrows, scoffing as you slid past him,
"What are you? - My mom?"
You turned and walked toward the showers, eyes still wide as you tried to process what had just happened and how you were going to explain it to Phoenix at your weekly sleepover later. A naked Bradley Bradshaw had just pinned you to a locker and warned you not to fuck with him.
She wasn't going to believe you in a million years.
You stepped into the shower stall, undressing slowly and putting your clothes onto the shelf just outside of the shower, still reeling.
The warm water made things all the more confusing. You couldn't stop thinking about it. Although, you did give props to whichever part of your brain controlled your dreams because, as it turned out, reality wasn't so far fetched.
He was in fact capable of putting his foot on the gas a little. In your dream, he had more than tapped the gas. Your core throbbed at the thought.
"Alright,”
You yelped, broken from your sordid daydream by the very face you had been envisioning. Rooster had nudged back the shower curtain and half stepped in, his towel still around his waist.
His lips quirked slightly as you rushed to cover yourself, almost slipping on the tile as you covered your chest and the rest of yourself with the other.
"Hey, where'd those nerves of steel go?" He teased, calling back to how you had acquired your callsign. Your eyes widened even more. What the fuck was going on? You pressed your back against the shower wall, totally bewildered.
"What the fuck?"
"Look, I know you want to fuck me." Rooster shrugged his shoulders, watching you as your eyes fell down to his chest again. He had been dubious at first, but this wasn't the first time he had seen you staring now.
"Wha - who said - I-I do not!"
Rooster smirked slightly, "Hey. I don't get it either. But, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about fucking you until you finally learned your damn lesson."
Your knees almost went weak. You honestly weren't 100% sure that you weren't dreaming again.
"So?" Rooster hooked his thumb under the edge of the towel, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Your mouth went dry suddenly as you allowed your eyes to watch his hand.
You had thought of Rooster naked many times since your dream about him. Now, as your eyes focused on the silhouette under the towel, you realised you had been severely undermining him.
You dropped your hands, stepping forward and grabbing either side of his jaw, tugging him forward and pressing your lips to his. His hands instinctively found your hips, pushing you back until your skin of your back touched the cold tile.
He dropped the towel, moving his body against yours, pressing you firmly into the tile. You hummed softly against his lips, glancing down as you felt him press against your hip bone. You trailed your fingertips along his tanned, toned torso until they rested against his half hard dick, wrapping your palm around him and stroking him lazily.
"You have a really nice cock." You murmured, wetting your lips with your tongue as he moved his head, pressing his lips to your throat.
"I know." He acknowledged, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You hadn't ever heard Rooster be smug before, you liked it.
He wanted to compliment you too, but he wasn't going to add any more fuel to the fire that was your ego.
He pushed his knee between yours, resting his forehead against yours, just watching you as you stroked him.
"Get on your knees for me." He demanded gently, pressing his lips to your temple in a perfect Bradley Bradshaw type juxtaposition. You looked at him, mouth open, ready to make a snarky comment. Then paused.
He quirked an eyebrow expectantly at you. Just daring you to go ahead and say it.
You smiled slightly, sweetly, like you were never about to say anything at all, "Yessir."
He smirked just a little as you sank to your knees before him, pushing your damp hair back off of your face.
"Get to it, Lieutenant." He leaned his forearm against the wall, cornering you against it. You allowed yourself to look at him unashamedly. From his broad, strong shoulders, his toned chest, his firm arms, to his thick, tanned thighs - you couldn't lie and say that he wasn't exactly what you had hoped and more.
You grinned, sticking your tongue out flat for him, pressing it against the underside of his cock, dragging it all the way to the tip, then wrapping your lips around him. Rooster jolted slightly as your hand came up and cupped his balls. Excitement ran through you at the realisation.
He watched you smirk around his dick, his breath catching in his throat just slightly — what a sight. So, he was sensitive down there, you hummed softly, massaging them delicately, keeping that information tucked away for later use.
Rooster leaned his head back against tile, eyes closed as he pushed his hips out further, groaning gently. You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together at the sight before you. You regretted not dropping to your knees for him sooner.
You pulled your mouth almost completely off of him, swirling your tongue around his pink tip, pulling a soft groan from his lips. You then pulled back completely, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him as you nuzzled your head just a little further between his legs. Rooster's fingers curled against your scalp, collecting a fistful of hair as your tongue pressed against his testicles.
You giggled softly at his reaction, humming delightedly as your nose brushed his thigh whilst you nipped, kissed, and oh-so-gently sucked at the sensitive skin.
He slid both hand down to the base of your skull, meeting your gaze. You nodded a little, bobbing your head down his length once more, bracing your hand against his thigh. Rooster let out a heavy breath, grunting softly as he guided your mouth further down on him. You blinked up at him through those pretty lashes of yours.
Whatever he wanted to do, you could take. He was gentle as he fucked your mouth, just barely letting himself in far enough to graze your throat. He saw the amusement in your eyes, just knowing that if your mouth wasn't preoccupied, you'd have something to say.
He pushed his hips forward, holding your head still as he rocked his hips back and forth, resting his palm against the wall behind you for leverage. You blinked back tears as he stroked the back of your throat, stroking his thigh sweetly to let him know you were alright.
“You like that?” Rooster breathed, slowing his hips only a little, stroking a tear back off of your cheek. You forced yourself to look up at him again, nodding for him.
He took his lip between his teeth, holding back a smile, “If I’d known this would shut you up I would’ve done it a while ago." As good as you were, he refused to compliment your technique. You'd only hold it over his head later. Plus, he was good too.
Rooster moved his hands, lifting your chin to admire his view one last time before jerking his head, motioning for you to get up. You wiped the corners of your mouth with your thumb as you stood up, biting your cheek as he pressed your body back against the wall. He lowered his head, pressing open mouthed kisses along your bare chest until he came to your breast.
You shivered as you felt his hand move between your legs, he used swiped your ankles further apart with his own and slid two fingers along your core. He met your gaze. The look on his face said it all.
You were soaking: you knew it, he clearly knew it - your lips parted as you received a taste of your own medicine. He didn't have to say a word for you to know that he had plenty that he simply could say. You swallowed, catching him smirk slightly as he dragged his lips back down across your sternum.
He brushed the knuckle of his middle finger over your clit, just barely grazing it, enough to make you think that it may have just been an accident. You immediately began to doubt his abilities, grounded suddenly as his index and middle finger stroked delicate patterns against the sensitive nerves.
You moaned softly as he took your nipple into his mouth, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb across the other, feeling it harden against his digit.
He moved to his knees before you, the warm spray of the shower hitting his chest as he guided one of your thighs over his shoulder, pressing his mouth against your skin as he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses across your legs.
"Hurry up." You groaned, pushing your fingers into his hair. His eyes met yours, glinting with amusement - like he knew something you didn't.
He still obliged, moving his mouth between your legs finally. Just as his fingers had, his tongue found your clit quickly, just flicking against it tauntingly. You whined, jutting your hips out toward him.
He pushed those two fingers into you, curling them expertly against your walls, coaxing a desperate moan from your lips as excitement pooled in your belly.
Your fingers raked through his sandy curls, eyes closed, moaning quietly for him as your high built up.
Rooster listened to what your body was telling him. He watched your chest rise and fall, your fingertips begin to tremble against his scalp, your pussy clench around his fingers and throb against him tongue. And then he stopped.
"Oh, fuck you." You were onto him immediately. You whined softly as he let you high fade away, pressing delicate kisses everywhere except where you needed him most. You felt him smirk against your thigh. "I'm sorry, Steel. Were you close?"
You groaned, closing your eyes as his lips pressed against your core once more. He yanked you closer to him, making you almost lose your footing on the wet tile. You forgot all about that as his tongue pressed against your pussy, his grip on your hips tightening as he sucked and flicked his tongue against your clit.
You honestly wondered for a moment what would happen if he let go of you right now... there was a real possibility that you might just hit the floor.
His fingers were inside of you again, he was building you up this time even faster than before. You whimpered, steadying yourself against the wall. All for him to just stop again.
"Fuck!" You exclaimed, gritting your teeth and planting both feet firmly on the ground, glaring at him. His lips curved upward, amused. You fidgeted on your feet, frustrated.
Bradley straightened back up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slipped between your legs once more.
"Tell me why I'm upset with you." He spoke softly, nosing at your cheek as he circled your all too sensitive clit. You whimpered, resting your forehead against his chest.
"Because I made us fail the exercise." You answered begrudgingly. Bradley's fingers stilled, he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly and pressing a kiss below your ear.
"No, that's not it, honey." He teased, fingers still resting against your clit, unmoving. You growled in frustration, sighing heavily as you met his gaze. He kissed the corner of your mouth sweetly, "C'mon. You know why."
You huffed. "Because I didn't listen to you."
He smiled against your cheek, slipping his two fingers into you, working over your clit with the pad of his thumb, "There you go. Now tell me how sorry you are."
"I'm sorry." You pushed your hips desperately against his hand, panting as he curled his fingers inside of you so expertly. He stilled once more. You were going to scream if he did that one more time. Bradley knew that. "Please, Rooster, I said I'm fucking sorry! - I'll listen. I'm sorry, just - please."
He slipped his tongue into your mouth, finally deciding you had made up for your behaviour. You grasped desperately at his shoulders, whimpering into the crook of his neck as he brought you up to the edge once again. You pressed your fingernails into the back of his neck, muffling the sounds of your orgasm against his skin as he finally let you release.
"God, you're an asshole." You breathed, blinking hard as you tried to make the white spots in your vision go away. Even with the white spots, you could see the shit-eating grin on his face. He hummed in agreement, his hand sliding up to rest around your throat as his lips found yours.
His thumbs stroked your hips softly as he turned you around, pressing his chest to your back, sandwiching you between him and the tile. You whined softly, pushing your hips back against his.
"Fuck..." You breathed, gasping as he pushed himself into you, pulling your hips back against his. He left open-mouthed kisses across the backs of your shoulders, making up for the fact that he was painfully hard and not really planning on giving you time to adjust.
"You feel so fucking good." Rooster gave in, complementing you as he pulled out almost entirely and drove back into you again.
You moaned out, burying your head in the crook of your arm as he pounded you against the tile, protecting your hips from taking the worst of the damage by wrapping an arm around your waist.
He moved you, bending you over a little more for a better angle, grabbing the back of your neck and holding you down as he fucked into you.
“Holy shit…” you moaned out, rutting your hips back against his desperately, digging your fingernails into his toned thigh. His soft grunts into the crook of your neck were driving you crazy, especially after all of his teasing, you were feeling close again already.
You both freeze at the sound of the door to the locker room opening.
Before you could even really register the danger, Rooster turned you around, hoisting you up, guiding your legs around his waist. You furrowed your eyebrows, following his gaze down to the floor and connecting with his logic.
His ankles were now the only ones visible under the bottom of the shower curtain.
Always one to tease, your eyes remained on him as you grabbed his cock and guided it between your legs once more. Rooster pressed your back to the wall, eyebrows furrowed as he sank back into you. You whined softly, almost in relief.
"For an old guy, he really knows his shit."
Both of your eyes widened at the same time in horrified realisation. Rooster shifted you into one arm, his palm pressing over your mouth tightly. Jake, oblivious, took his time messing around with his locker. You prayed silently that he just decided to shower at home today.
"Can't believe you told him he can drink on us," Coyote chimed in, making you wince. You and Rooster stared at each other, him biting his cheek to keep from laughing. "Old guys can drink, Jake."
"Got us out of the push-ups, didn't I?"
One more look at Rooster, and you found yourself confused by the glint in his eye.
"Be quiet." He mouthed the words, not bothering to let you respond as he moved his hips, finding a slow pace that couldn't be heard over the sound of the shower. You half wanted to protest, but the other, weaker, half of you knew that if you were denied one more fucking orgasm today - you were going to lose it.
Oddly, it was surprising what the feeling did to you. His cock filling you over and over, his lips dragging across your throat, his palm pressed firmly over your mouth.
"Rooster, you in here, man?" Rooster watched your eyes widen, snickering to himself quietly. He removed his hand from your mouth, shooting you a look. They had just spotted that his locker was still open, that was all.
"Yeah. What's up, Coyote?"
You gritted your teeth, your head lulled back against the tile as he fucked you.
"Everyone's headed to Penny's. We're buying." Coyote shot a look at Jake begrudgingly about the last part. Rooster bit his lip, stifling a laugh.
"Stop, I'm gonna cum. I can't be quiet." You whispered desperately, as quietly as you could. Rooster couldn't have looked more amused if he tried.
"Yeah, go ahead," Rooster called back to Coyote, "I'll catch up."
"Alright, see you there!"
"Huh," Hangman furrowed his eyebrows as he picked up the set of keys left on the bench. He examined them and looked around. "Y/N left her car keys."
Coyote shrugged, "Probably caught a ride with Phoenix."
Hangman nodded. That made sense. He figured he would bring the keys anyway and make fun of your dumb ass for forgetting to lock them away safely.
You hadn't heard the last part of the conversation. You were to busy clawing the shit out of Rooster's back, desperately trying not to cum and not to make any noise. You sighed in relief as you heard the door close and their footsteps trail away.
Rooster pressed his lips to yours again desperately as he fucked you through your orgasm, relishing in the string of your nails on his shoulders. His thrusts became more erratic, barely bottoming out, just pounding into you again and again until he's coming undone himself, spilling inside of you.
...
"D'you think Rooster was getting some in the locker room?" Coyote asked, eyebrows furrowed as he looked over at Hangman. Hangman scoffed from the driver's seat, shaking his head.
"You're kidding right?" He practically laughed at the idea. "He was probably just crying about Mav whooping his ass in training again." Then, he did laugh. It was ridiculous to him. There was no way in hell.
Coyote shook his head, still not convinced, "I dunno, man. He sounded a little too... happy. He found somethin' funny. I mean - what's funny about getting invited to Penny's?"
Hangman rolled his eyes, "Look, if it was someone else - maybe. But it's Rooster!" He swung his car into a space and turned off the ignition, laughing again as he got out of the car.
As expected, Phoenix was already at The Hard Deck when Coyote and Hangman arrived. First, they had to make good on their promise of buying and drinking a round with Maverick.
After that round was finished, Hangman sauntered up to the bar and stood beside the stool that Phoenix was perched on as she talked to Penny across the bar.
"Hey, Birdbrain, where's my sister?" Hangman teased, draping an arm around his colleague's shoulder, his signature smug smile playing on his lips. Phoenix's first point of call was to shrug him off. Then, she turned to him and shrugged,
"She was taking a shower last I heard. Let me know if you see her, though - she's supposed to stay with me tonight."
Jake's eyebrows furrowed. He cocked his head, shaking it at this new information as he pulled your keys from his pocket. "Well, I just left the locker rooms. She wasn't in there and she left her keys."
Phoenix shrugged again.
It was at that moment that the door to Penny's opened. The bell above the door rang, and Hangman and Coyote's attention both turned towards the door at the same time. In time to see you and Rooster heading through the door together.
There was nothing suggestive about the way you entered, nothing unprofessional about either of you as you made your way into the bar.
Only, both Hangman and Coyote now thought back to their conversation in the car. Jake turned his head, watching you and Rooster split up and shoot off in different directions like magnets being repelled from each other. His lips parted.
Coyote glanced between you and Jake, making the same connection at the same time. Phoenix slapped a hand over her mouth as she made the same connection just a moment later.
Telling Rooster about your little dream had clearly been the right move.
"Oh my fucking god, no way!" She exclaimed as you reached her.
You glanced between her and your horrified older brother, "What? W-What is it?"
Jake pushed his beer into Phoenix's hands and your eyes widened. You looked down at your keys in his hand. He looked down at the distinct teeth marks on your collarbone. You knew he knew.
Summary: When Bradley has a rough day at work, he knows the only thing that will make him feel better is his wife. But will you let him dominate you? Will you let him use you just how he needs to? He shouldn't have been surprised by your answer or your response to him.
Warnings: Angst, fluff, rough smut, dominant smut
Length: 2500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
"I am so proud of you, Roo," you whispered, kissing his neck and zipping up his flight suit. It was early, the sun was just peeking through the bedroom curtains, but you were up helping him get ready for the first day of his duties.
Bradley would be spending the week as an assistant instructor at Top Gun. Few people would appreciate what an honor this was, but you understood it implicitly. You hadn't yet bothered to dress for the day, but you decided to wake up early to wish him luck.
He ran his fingers along your soft skin, completely bare for him except for your glasses and wedding rings, as he said, "I always want to make you proud, Baby Girl."
When Bradley tipped his head down to kiss your cheek, you giggled. The sound went right to the part of his brain that controlled his unbridled desire for you. All he had to do was squeeze your bare hip with his big hand, and you looked up into his eyes.
"Do we have time?" you asked softly before you bit your lip.
He kind of shrugged and grunted, but you were already lowering the zipper of his flight suit all the way down. Bradley let you take the lead on this one, and when you dropped to your knees, he was not disappointed.
The way you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock... yeah, there would always be time for that. "You're so fucking good," he groaned as you took him deep, and he hit the back of your throat. You sucked on him until you were gagging, then you pulled him out as a strand of your saliva dripped onto your tits.
"This is for good luck," you told him before you tilted your head and sucked on his balls until he was pulling on your hair a little rough.
"Oh," he groaned. "My wife doesn't mess around." His words were deep and gruff compared to the long, soft moans you made as your tongue swirled up the length of his cock.
You kissed the tip of him, whispered, "I love you," and then you gave him absolutely filthy head until he was cumming all over you. Your hollowed cheeks and warm hands had him fucking your face until cum dripped out of the corners of your lips. And when he spurted onto your glasses a second later, your giggle returned.
Bradley loved the sight of it enough that he wanted to make a mess with you later on when he had more time. Coat your glasses up real good. Maybe help you lick them clean.
"Fuck," he growled. "I need to leave, Sweetheart." Bradley pulled you to your feet and placed a soft slap to your ass. You kissed him hard one time, and he promised he'd take care of you later.
---------------------------
"Tally, tally!" called one of the younger recruits into the radio. But his teammate and wingman left him hanging long enough that Bradley got himself quickly into position. A few seconds later, Bradley got tone on him and eliminated him.
He was feeling great, and when the team landed along with Bradley, he took some time to show them where they went wrong and how they could improve. "As soon as you hesitate, it's over," he informed them, knowing very well that he had learned that lesson himself not terribly long ago.
The recruits filed back inside for lunch while Bradley joined Maverick and the other teachers to go over the plans for the afternoon. Honestly, he was having a great day, and when he was told he'd be taking another team up in the afternoon, he was looking forward to it.
But he must have been distracted. Or maybe he was the one who hesitated this time. Because as soon as Bradley managed to fly the two seater Super Hornet into a corner, he heard tone lock onto his own aircraft.
He had been outmaneuvered by a twenty five year old student.
Bradley landed his aircraft in a state of shocked silence, barely managing to communicate with the tower. He was mortified. And of course, as soon as he walked into the tower, everyone knew about it.
"It happens," Mav told him. "It was your first day instructing. You'll nail their asses to the wall tomorrow."
But Bradley could see the looks on the students' faces. He could practically hear Nat's voice through her text message.
Are you fucking kidding me, Rooster? They took you out?
He wasn't even sure how she heard about it from the simulation classroom. But seemingly everyone knew. It took everything inside him to keep his shoulders squared and his voice calm. Because inside he wanted to rage. He wanted back up in the air. He wanted to meticulously pick off every single other aircraft one at a time until he didn't feel like a joke anymore.
And that made him feel like maybe he wasn't ready to be an instructor yet.
"Fuck," he growled, slamming his locker door closed later. Absolutely nobody messed with him in the locker room. Nobody would even look at him. He was surrounded by dead silence everywhere he went.
As he stormed out to his Bronco, his skin was crawling with the burning need to prove himself. To dominate his surroundings. When he started up the engine, he took a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm the rising temperature of his humiliation. The blazing desire to conquer. Overpower. Defeat.
He needed to get home to you. Somehow he knew you were the only thing that would make him feel better.
By the time he pulled into the driveway, he was practically panting. You were already home from work. This was good. When he opened the front door, he called out, "Where are you?" His voice was raspy. His body was too hot.
"In the kitchen, Roo!" you replied. "Come tell me all about your day!"
You had taken your boots and socks off, but you were still in your uniform with your hair pulled back in a tight bun. And you were up on the kitchen counter changing the lightbulb that he had noticed kept flickering. This kind of shit was his job to take care of around the house. You shouldn't have to be up on the counter like this.
But as soon as he really looked at you, his cock throbbed with need. You looked at him over your shoulder as you finished with the new bulb. "What's wrong?" you asked softly, slightly alarmed. You must have seen the look in his eyes. He had never looked at you like this before.
Bradley knew you could make him feel better. If you let him do it. If you'd let him take his day out on you.
He snagged you off the counter and into his arms as you squealed, but you quickly gaped at him as he carried you to the bedroom.
"Bradley?" you whispered, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and searching his face.
He tossed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you, not bothering to remove his boots. You were silent, eyes wide and lips softly parted as he let you have his body weight. Your gaze was on his lips like you were expecting him to kiss you and be your sweet husband like he usually was.
"No," he growled, and your eyes darted up to his. You looked needy and uncertain. Bradley could tell you wanted to ask him what was going on. But then he read your last name on your nametag, annoyed that it didn't say Bradshaw yet. Very gently, he removed it, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room. Then he unbuttoned your shirt without a word and pushed it open wide.
Your nipples were straining against your black lace bra. You were very subtly rubbing yourself up against his hard cock. Your pupils were dilated. You wanted to get fucked.
"I hate your fucking name tag. Okay?" he asked, voice gruff as he wrapped his hand around the front of your neck. "I hate it."
You bit your lip and whispered, "You had a bad day."
"You told me you were going to get a new name tag," he grunted, pressing his hard cock against your thigh. "You said you submitted the paperwork for your name change."
"I did." Your voice was so needy. Bradley shoved his thumb into your mouth and watched as you opened wide and licked him.
"Get a new fucking name tag. And leave the light bulbs for me to change."
"I will," you said again with your mouth full of his thumb.
"Shut up," he growled, and your eyes went so wide as you moaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood. And I'm not going to be sweet. Not right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you cry. Use your pussy exactly how I want to."
You moaned around his thumb again.
"Tell me that's what you want," he demanded. You nodded your head, and he withdrew his thumb. "Fucking say it."
"I want it." Your voice was breathy but sure, and Bradley was going to dominate you until your tears and whining made him feel better. Because there was always only you who could fix him.
He practically ripped open the front of your khaki uniform pants to get to you. Bradley yanked the fabric down your legs and sent your pants across the room to meet your broken name tag. Tiny, black lace panties cut low on your hips. He could see your tattoo. He could tell you were wet through the fabric.
"You look like a little slut," he informed you. He watched you bite your lip as your back arched off the bed. "You shouldn't be this excited about being manhandled." Then the scrap of black lace met the same fate as your pants and the name tag.
Bradley had to commend you. You kept your mouth shut as he unzipped his flight suit, lowering the sleeves and pulling his cock free. You were silent as he rubbed himself through your wet slit. You didn't make a noise as he slowly slid himself inside your dripping wet pussy until he bottomed out. And only the softest sound escaped your lips as Bradley wrapped his big hands around your hips and lifted you slightly off the bed.
But you screamed when he held you in place, your ass in midair, and fucked you like you were his own personal toy. He slammed into your pussy with short, rough strokes. It was, in so many ways, the dirtiest thing he had ever done to you. And it felt to fucking good, Bradley could cum inside you right now. But your screams had him going harder, wanting to enjoy this feeling of control for as long as possible.
"Louder," he told you. But he didn't really even need to say anything as he tightened his grip on your flesh and fucked you until tears leaked from your eyes. Your cries filled the room, so loud his ears were ringing from it.
He withdrew from your body and let you fall to the bed. You were scrambling now, reaching for him. Looking up at him with tears in your eyes like you needed him to kiss you.
He flipped you onto your belly before ramming his cock inside you again. Your hands were all balled up in the pillowcase as you cried out against the bedding. The rapid slap slap slapping noise of his body dominating yours was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard. The way you were letting him calm his nerves and soothe his ego, well if he hadn't already married you, he'd do it today.
He palmed you softly before laying a solid smack right to the round of your ass. You moaned and sucked in a deep breath as he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear. "Tell me you want me to stop."
You shook your head and turned to look back at him, eyes red with tears. "Keep going," you hiccupped. "Please."
Bradley pushed your face back down into the pillow as you gasped and cried for him. He pumped his hips hard, grabbing at your thighs and your backside. Then he wrapped his forearm underneath you and pulled you up until you were on your knees for him. And how he had the perfect view of your body as you took him, full hilt, like a champ. You gorgeous pussy grabbed at him with each stroke, and Bradley spit on you where you were joined, making everything wetter.
"You like this, don't you?" he asked as you moaned and whimpered. "Huh? You actually fucking like this." He was so close as he spanked you just to feel you clench around him. "You fucking slut."
He pressed his lips to your ear again and slipped his hand up to shove his fingers into your mouth. You were moaning and slobbering all over his hand, crying into the pillow.
"You're perfect," Bradley growled as he filled you up with his cum. He fucked you with jerky strokes, pushing his load deeper and deeper until he guided you down flat on your belly with his hand on your ass. You were half crushed under his body weight, kitten licking his fingers when he realized he felt so good. So much calmer. You made everything better just like he knew you would.
But now he was slightly concerned that he had taken it too far, even with your permission. As he kissed along the back of your neck and ran his fingers softly up your arm, he whispered, "Are you okay, Baby Girl?"
Your voice was still a little watery with tears as you said, "I won't be able to walk tomorrow. And now I need to update my to-do list so I remember to order a new name tag. But that was hot. Do you feel better?"
Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and buried his nose against your skin. He felt perfect. "So much better. Thank you."
He helped you to your feet with the promise of a bubble bath. Then he assured you he could figure out how to make something for dinner. After he picked up all of the discarded clothing, he threw your name tag in the bathroom trash can while you sank down into the tub.
"I have an extra name tag in my office, you know," you told him with an eye roll and a smirk.
"I know," he replied, bending to kiss your nose. "And I have an extra one in my locker. You can have it. We can match. It'll be cute." And now all he could think about was you wearing his last name on your khaki uniform every day.
-----------------------
Okay, yes...okay, yep. That happened. Stay tuned for the upcoming (4th!) series with Roo and BG called Always Ever Only You! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
A little something to try to get back into writing - let me know what you think! 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.
Title: Back to Sleep
Ain't sorry that I woke ya.
WC: 1839
“Baby, you almost done?” Jake asked from the kitchen, where he’s just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. “Come on, let’s be couch potatoes,” he insists.
It’s tempting, it really is, but you’ve got so much work to get done to stay ahead of schedule. Perched at the dining room table, your hair was tossed up in a ponytail as you focused on the laptop ahead. Yes, you were first in your class in your occupational therapy program, but final exams were coming and you were gunning for the number-one spot.
“You go ahead and I’ll meet you,” you said, tipping your head back for your fiancé to plant a quick kiss on your lips.
“You’ve been studying like a maniac for weeks,” Jake pointed out, one hand gripping the back of your chair and the other braced on the corner of the dining table, “one night isn’t going to break your streak – exam isn’t for a few weeks, still.”
“I know, I promise, give me thirty minutes,” you insisted, looking up at him through your blue light glasses that you knew he loved.
“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, kissing you again.
But thirty minutes came and went, and you were still staring intently at your computer. Admittedly, Jake got swept up in Thursday Night Football, and at halftime, he shook out of it.
“Excuse me,” he called from over the back of the couch, “Where is my fiancé?” He asked. You peeled your eyes off of your study cards, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.
“Twenty more minutes!” You called back, tucking your hair behind your ear. But as twenty minutes passed once again, you found Jake dragging your chair back from the table. “Jake, please, I’m on a roll,” you whined. You barely had time to grab up your notecards before Jake lifted you from the chair to bring you over to the sofa.
“You can study from the couch if you must,” he said, only somewhat dramatically.
And that’s how the evening progressed, with you flipping through notes and Jake’s arm firmly around your shoulder as the clock ticked later and later. Soon, you were yawning and focusing more on the back of your eyelids than your flashcards.
“Jake,” you murmured, eyes still shut. “I gotta sleep,” you said, reaching over and patting him on the stomach twice.
“I’m going to finish the game, be up in a second,” he assured. You dropped another sweet kiss on his lips before making your way upstairs, flashcards in hand. After changing into a pair of Jake’s boxer briefs and a big t-shirt, you crawled into bed, still flipping through your notes.
Jake was surprised to see you still awake when he came up to bed about forty-five minutes later. Leaving the bathroom door open, he quickly showered and brushed his teeth
“Baby, time for bed,” he gently plucked the cards out of your fingers, tossing them onto his nightstand. You groaned quietly but snuggled up to his side instead. You’d been hitting the books hard and it was finally catching up to you. Jake’s warm, vetiver skin lulled you quickly to sleep.
However, much later, during the wee hours of the night, Jake awoke to find your side of the bed empty. His eyes strained in the dark night and if he listened carefully, he could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered, wiping at his eyes as he rolled out of bed, lazily pulling his sweatpants up his hips to pull the drawstring tight. He padded down the stairs to see you yet again perched at the dining room table, the chandelier above dimmed to the lowest setting. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes still adjusting to the light, “it’s almost three in the morning.”
You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see your fiancé frowning at you in the soft light.
“I know, but I had a dream that I showed up for exam day and couldn’t remember the steps to the malleability scale and I woke up panicking,” you listed off. “I just thought if I could re-arrange some of these class notes into a more visual aid, it would help me remember,” you gestured to the computer, a giant yawn overtaking your face.
“Babe, it’s time for bed,” Jake said, stepping closer. You protectively splayed your hands across your notebook on the table.
“I’m not done,” you said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Jake reached over closing your laptop.
“You’re done. Bed, now,” he ordered, which gave you a little shiver, but you complied nonetheless – dragging your feet down the hall. Luckily for you, you could turn the brightness down on your phone and run through the study guide your leading MD sent out.
After tucking into bed yet again, Jake rolled over, invading your space.
“Phone,” he said, holding out his empty palm.
“Jake,” you began to protest. He tipped his chin up in a challenge. “I need it for my alarm,” you weakly argued.
“We have an alarm clock and I’ll make sure you’re up,” he reassured as you reluctantly placed your phone in his hand. Jake rolled over, his back to you as he set your phone on the side table before snuggling down into the mattress.
“M’not even tired,” you lied with a petulant tone. Jake rolled his eyes, not that you could see it. You spent the next minute being dramatic, sighing heavily and flipping all around to find a comfortable position.
“Baby, go to sleep,” Jake grumbled. You glared at his back for a moment before flopping on your back, arms crossed over your chest, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you could remember what the study guide looked like from memory.
A few beats passed.
“I swear to god just you being awake like this is keeping me up,” Jake said with finality, rolling over to face you, a stern expression on his face.
“You could have kept sleeping if you just left me alone at the table,” you pointed out.
“You have to sleep or that pretty little brain aint’ gonna remember shit,” he countered, nearly taunting. With a huff, you turned to face away from him, lying on your hip with one knee bent up.
“M’not even tired,” you mumbled again. Ten seconds later, you jumped when you felt Jake’s full body pressing into you from behind.
“You’re not even tired, huh?” Jake asked, knowing damn well you were just being a brat.
“No,” you grumbled, trying to keep in a squeal as his stubble scraped against your neck.
“You want me to put you to sleep?” He breathed into your ear, big hand landing on your upper thigh, just below where his boxer briefs had ridden up your leg with all your tossing and turning.
“You can’t,” you replied, still feeling put off by Jake confiscating your flashcards.
“Sure I can,” he said, hips shifting so you could feel his soft erection against you.
“Bet I can get you to sleep in twenty minutes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind your ear.
“Not even tired,” you tried not to gasp as his fingertips slipped below the stretchy band of your borrowed shorts.
“How can you be tired when you’re this wet?” He asked, swiping his fingers through your sex, making you huff.
“You know I like those boxers on you,” you muttered, embarrassed, but at least you were honest. “You’re on the clock, Hangman,” you reminded. Jake gladly cradled your clit between his two fingers, rolling them up and down against your skin. The way you almost avoided his touch by pressing your hips down into the mattress made him grin. Sometimes it was almost too easy. You frowned softly into your pillow as you felt Jake’s hand retreat from your body, but squealed as he quickly dragged the waistband of his boxers all the way down to your ankles.
Jake softly huffed as he pressed his blunt tip against your sex, jaw clenching at the resistance as he sunk in further and further. Turning him further beneath you, your front was pressed down into the mattress.
“How’s that, hmm?” He murmured in your ear. “Gonna listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep, smart girl?” You simply whined gently at the feeling as he filled you. “You hear me?” He asked, knowing he was being haughty.
“Yeah,” you whispered, pushing your hips back against him. Jake reached underneath you, palming your breast in his hand as he continued to fuck you gently down into the mattress. “Jake,” you huffed softly.
“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed patronizingly. “Put you right back to sleep tonight,” he snapped his hips, making you jump. His hand traveled down your stomach, the other braced against the bed so he didn’t squish you entirely, to find your clit again, and gently circling it.
You could feel it start to tickle at the soles of your feet – a telltale sign of impending orgasm.
“More,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently both from pleasure and pure exhaustion.
“More?” Jake asked, pulling his hand out from between your body and the mattress, dipping his fingers in his mouth as his hips continued their steady thrusts. Zeroing in on your clit once more, he knew you were getting close – after this long together, he could read you like a book. He didn’t mind, he was close as well. “Going to fill you right up with a sleeping pill,” he didn’t care that he sounded corny, he was putting his money where his mouth was. One more strategic roll of his fingers and you were fluttering around Jake’s cock, toes curled tight at the end of the bed.
“There we go,” Jake grunted, meeting his own orgasm as he pumped into you dutifully. “That’s a good girl,” he exhaled.
You hated it when Jake was right, because now, your eyelids felt like they were being weight down with bags of cement. Whining once more as he withdrew, you jumped when he tapped the head of his spent cock against your clit.
“Wait right here, precious,” he said, pressing a kiss to the round of your hip.
As if you were going anywhere now. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you knew an alarm was set for the morning, because now you simply couldn’t be bothered to lift your head from the pillow.
“Warmed it up for you, baby,” Jake murmured as a warning before a wet washcloth swiped through your folds. “I know, I know,” he hushed. Jake wiped himself down before padding across the room to drop the towel in the laundry hamper.
Crawling back onto the mattress, he threw a blanket over the two of you, double checking his alarm once more before tossing an arm over your waist. Your lashes laid across your cheekbones in pure serenity as you entered deep sleep.
Rating: M | This is smut, minors, DNI! No one under 18!
Summary: Everyone seems to think you’re Jake Seresin’s girl. It’s easier than explaining to them that you’re just friends with benefits. But that arrangement doesn’t seem to be working for either of you anymore. | Ft. “No, you idiot. I’m in love with you.” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anonymous and “You matter to me, you asshole.” + “I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being a pain my ass.” requested by @dreamlandcreations
Warnings: Miscommunication, idiots FWB to lovers, fear of unrequited feelings, jealous!Jake, therapist Bradley, unprotected PinV. (I think that’s it but let me know and I’ll tag anything else)
Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader
Word Count: 9.3k (….sorry)
Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist
The Hard Deck was, as it always seemed to be on Friday nights, packed to the rafters. A sea of khaki greeted you the moment you stepped inside with Jake following close behind but, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dressed to match. Instead, he’d opted for a pair of jeans, a button-down you’d stolen on more than one occasion, and boots that had seen better days - though he had to be talked out of the cowboy hat, less to protect him from ridicule and more to protect your sanity. However, he still managed to blend into the crowd as you weaved your way through to the bar.
Jake remained close, as he always did, and kept a hand on the small of your back as he nodded his greeting to the handful of familiar faces he came across. The heat from his body bled through the thin material of his shirt - he always seemed to run hotter than the average, warm to the touch on even the coldest of days - and you could feel it warming your skin as he took a half-step closer to allow someone to pass.
Only one stool remained at the bar, the others occupied with the beginning of the night’s rush, and Jake pulled it out for you with a wink and a grin when you squeezed his bicep in thanks.
Summary: You decide to try out a few new nicknames on your husband. He's quick to remind you that there is a short list of names that are acceptable.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut
Length: 2500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Based on an ask. Beautiful banner by @mak-32
"Okay, okay, I know it sounds crazy, but I had the best sex of my life the other night. It actually worked."
You were leaning up against the bar at the Hard Deck on Friday night, waiting for Penny to hand you two of your favorite beers, and you couldn't help but overhear the women next to you chatting.
"What exactly did you do?" the brunette asked the redhead.
The redhead grinned and said, "I called my husband 'Buddy' a few times, and he got annoyed at first, but then he fucked the absolute shit out of me."
"I can't believe it worked!" the brunette replied.
You looked over to where Bradley was throwing darts, losing abysmally to Hangman. Your husband looked hot. He always looked hot. He was always good in bed, too. But you were curious.
"Excuse me," you said as you turned toward the two women. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear. You called your husband 'Buddy' which led to amazing sex?"
"Yes!" gushed the redhead again. "Are you married? Dating someone?"
"I'm married," you told her, glancing again at Bradley as he raked his finger through his hair. He turned and caught your eye, winking across the room.
"Listen, I'm sure you love your husband, but the male ego is fragile and can only handle so much."
You snorted and shrugged. "Makes sense."
"So all you have to do is play into his insecurities a tiny bit. Make him feel like you've pushed him into the friend zone until he snaps a little. He'll be dying to show you that he's not your 'Buddy', he's your lover."
You pondered that for a moment as you picked up your beers. "Thanks," you told both women. "I'll give it a try."
"Good luck!" they called after you as you took both beers back to the dartboard.
"What took you so long?" Bradley rasped as you handed him one of the bottles. "I missed you."
You rolled your eyes with a smile before you kissed his scarred cheek. "I was just across the room."
He was looking at you like he was almost ready to take you home. "Across the room? That's too far, Baby Girl. I like it when you're right next to me. Where you belong."
"Right here?" you asked, rubbing yourself against his side.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Right there."
"The two of you are absolutely disgusting these days," Nat informed you as you kissed Bradley and tangled your fingers up in his hair. "I don't know who let you get married, but this has become distressing." She was smiling at both of you as Bradley wrapped his arm around your waist.
"We'll just head out then," he told his friend, handing her the bottles of beer you just got. "Have a great night."
Then he scooped you up and carried you outside to the Bronco as you squealed. "You wanna do this here or at home, Baby Girl?" he murmured next to your ear as you clung to him and giggled.
"Are you serious?"
He sucked on your neck while he unlocked the Bronco, and you ended up having sex on the backseat. You kept your bodies down low, and Bradley had one big palm planted over your mouth. When you looked up at him as you licked his hand, he groaned.
"Baby Girl. Fuck, Sweetheart. You feel so perfect."
The sex was very good. It was always good. You liked the rush of knowing you could get caught. And when you came on his cock, Bradley filled you with his cum before quickly zipping up his jeans. He looked around, and then helped you climb into the front seat. Once you and he were both buckled in, he pulled out of the parking lot to the sound of you and he erupting into laughter.
------------------------
But the next day, you were still thinking about those two women from the bar. You wondered if it would work. Because if Bradley was leaving you satisfied nearly every single time, what would the next level be like? Getting him a little extra wound up was always fun for you. You shivered a bit as you thought about it while you made lunch.
You glanced out the window to where he was pulling weeds in just some gym shorts, occasionally pausing to throw a tennis ball for Tramp. He looked sweaty and delicious, and you knew that he would walk back inside soon, ready for lunch and expecting you to take him to bed. Because he was irresistible to you like this, and he knew it.
So you made him a grilled cheese sandwich with a little side of carrot sticks, and you waited. When you heard the sliding glass door open and the sound of his shoes on the floor, you took a deep breath to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape.
"Hey, Baby Girl," he grunted from the doorway.
"Hey, Buddy. Can you get the hot sauce off the dining room table for me?" You glanced at him over your shoulder, trying your best not to laugh. His brow was furrowed as he leaned against the wall with his forearm, sweaty and shirtless.
"Buddy?" he muttered under his breath before turning back to the dining room. You bit your lip hard, trying to get composure as he brought you the bottle and set it on the counter right next to your cutting board. He was very much in your personal space, palm planted on the edge of the counter, waiting for you to look at him. When you glanced up, he asked, "Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart?"
"Nope," you replied, shaking your head slightly.
"Right," he whispered, taking his plate of lunch when you handed it to him. "Right." You watched Bradley wander into the dining room, and you followed him, pulling out a chair for yourself instead of sitting on his lap.
After you ate quietly for a few minutes, he set his sandwich down. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"
"What do you mean, Champ?" you asked, taking a sip of lemonade to hide your smile as his eyes went wide.
"Champ? Baby Girl, are you mad at me?"
"No," you told him, finishing your sandwich as quickly as you could and standing up.
He was immediately on your tail as you took your plate to the kitchen sink. "I don't want you to be upset with me," he said, caging you in at the sink. "Tell me what I did wrong." He looked a little worried as you shrugged.
"I'm not upset," you promised. He leaned in and kissed you. It started out sweet, and slowly but surely it progressed to some tongue and his body pressing against yours. He was warm and sweaty, and you wanted more. But you broke the kiss, gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "I need to go get the mail, Sport."
"S-Sport?" he stuttered, following you for a few steps until he was standing in the middle of the living room with his hands planted on his hips. He looked like a confused puppy as you glanced back when you closed the front door, and then you laughed all the way to the mailbox.
"I called him Sport," you said, cackling to yourself as you emptied all the junk mail and bills out of the mailbox. You took the time to make your face neutral again as you walked back into the house, only to find that Bradley hadn't moved at all.
You were sorting the mail in your hands when he closed the distance to you. Apprehension was flowing off of him in waves. "What the hell did I do?" he rasped, and you looked up at him.
"I already told you, Buddy. Nothing."
He ran a nervous hand through his messy hair. "So, I'm not doing enough? Are we- are we getting divorced or something, Sweetheart?"
You had to try so hard not to touch him or laugh. "Why would you think that?"
"Because you're calling me Buddy! And Sport!"
You bit your lip and shrugged again, taking in his muscular form and shocked expression. "I'm just trying out some new nicknames."
"New nicknames? The fuck? You never call me those things!"
"I just thought I might start calling you things that I would call a friend."
He took a staggering step away from you before gesturing to himself with both hands. "A friend? Do I look like your friend? I am not your friend."
"I thought you said you were my best friend, Champ," you whispered, trying to hold it together as the flushed color on his cheeks grew darker.
"Of course you're my best friend, Baby Girl!"
You pressed your lips together before you said, "Then I don't see the problem?"
His eyes were wide and his lips were parted as he closed the distance to you and grabbed you a little rough. "You don't see the problem, huh? You ride your friends' dicks like you ride mine? You moan for your friends when you're a horny mess?"
His hands were on your hips as he held you against his semi hard cock. "Well, no-" you gasped.
"No. You don't. I'm your husband. I'm not your friend."
You bit your lip and then whispered, "Okay, Buddy."
And then he snapped. His lips were on yours in the roughest kiss. You had to grab for his shoulders so you didn't trip as he pushed you back against the bannister. His body was heavy against yours as the wood dug into your back. "That's enough," he growled. "There are four names you call me, and Buddy isn't one of them. Neither is Champ. Neither is Sport."
"Four names?" you asked softly, moaning as he sucked on your neck until you squealed. And then he wedged his thigh between your legs, and you whined, "Roo!"
"Yeah, Baby Girl," he whispered against your neck as he started yanking your shirt up. "That's one of them. Keep going."
You looked up at him as he peeled your shirt off and unclasped your bra. When you started to ride his thigh, he brought his hands up to your nipples, stroking softly at first. Then he was dipping his head down and brushing you with his mustache until you cried out, "Bradley!"
"Yeah, I'm your Bradley. Keep going, Sweetheart," he commanded before sucking your nipple into his mouth and unzipping your denim shorts. You were whining so loudly as he ran his tongue in lazy circles and looked up at you. Then he kissed his way down to your rooster tattoo as your shorts and underwear slid down your legs.
He licked your tattoo before turning his attention to your pussy. When he guided one thigh up over his bare shoulder, you met his eyes and whispered, "Daddy."
Your husband groaned, dragging his tongue and mustache through your wet slit before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. "Daddy!" you screamed, digging your fingers into his hair and scalp to keep yourself upright. The wood against your back was painful where every other part of my body was drowning in pleasure as Bradley ate your pussy.
"Say it again," he demanded before licking from your opening to your clit over and over while you told him he was your Daddy. "I'm your Daddy," he growled, getting to his feet and scooping you up as well. You were whimpering as he carried you to the steps and set you down on your hands and knees. You could feel the warmth of his body behind you and over you as he gently kissed along your bare back until you were practically in tears, needing more.
When you wiggled your butt back against his shorts, you could feel him pull his cock free. "You're forgetting one name," he rasped, dragging his tip through your wetness before resting himself right at your opening with a little pressure. Then one big hand wrapped around to your clit and the other found your breasts as he said, "I'll help you remember it."
And then he fucked you, so hard and so good, filling you with each fluid snap of his hips. He bottomed out until you were rocking forward against your hands braced on the steps.
"Oh god, Roo!" you screamed. He was so rough and yet so fucking sweet when his lips met the back of your neck.
Then he filled you all the way and stayed there, pushing a little harder still as he wrapped his hand around your hair and pulled. "Fuck!" you screamed as your back arched, pressing him to your g-spot until you were panting and ready to beg. "Please!"
He licked your neck and rasped, "I'm not Buddy. I'm Roo. Got it?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"I'm your Daddy, Baby Girl," he whispered as you whined, stroking his fingers along your clit and yanking on your hair. "But you're forgetting one name."
He started fucking you again in earnest, fingers tapping your clit until you were babbling nonsense. The slap of his thighs against the backs of yours was mesmerizing as he hit every spot just right.
"Come on, Sweetheart. You're my good girl. So smart," he grunted. "You know what to call me when I'm in charge. You know what to call me right now. You pinned it on my chest."
You were keening as you felt that first delicious clench around his cock, but when you didn't answer him, he eased his fingers away from your clit. "No!" you gasped.
"Say it," he growled, thrusting a little harder. "Fucking say it."
"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!"
Then his fingers were right there, and your pussy was clenching as you moaned every variation of his name as you came. But he kept it going, almost to the point of over stimulation, extending your orgasm until your eyes were filled with tears. His fingers were still stroking you as your legs shook, and then finally he was groaning your given name and grabbing your hips as he fucked you until he came in your pussy.
He collected you in his arms, pulling you up so your back was against his sweaty chest, and he kissed your shoulder. You leaned back as you caught your breath, and he pressed his lips to your ear. "I never want to hear any of that shit again. Got it?"
"Yes, Daddy," you told him with a smile playing on your lips. "Never again."
He kissed you and stroked his hands all over your body. It worked. The women from the bar were right. That was absolutely next level.
Then Bradley pulled his cock from your pussy as you whined, and he slapped your ass. "Okay, Sport. Let's get a move on. We've got chores to do." You looked back at his smug expression as he pulled his shorts up. "You coming, Champ?"
"Bradley," you groaned, glaring at him.
You managed to stand on your shaky legs and chase after him, but he scooped you up. "I got ya, Buddy," he whispered with a grin, and you smothered him with kisses until he couldn't talk.
-------------------------
Please, I need someone to try this tiktok on their significant other! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f!reader
word count: 3743 words
warnings: fluff
summary: down the block there's an antique shop and something in your head said stop, so you walked in...
note from author: fun fact, i went to denver night 1 for eras tour and this was my surprise song after listening to it nonstop the week leading up to my show... i had literally talked about how much i fell in love with this song and how it was my song the day before my show and the fact that taylor performed it proves it's my song!! so of course, i had to write about it...
“You got me sushi for lunch? You spoil me too much.”
She chuckled as she rested her phone between her ear and shoulder, opening the door to the local sushi place with her hand not holding the plastic bag. “It was more for me than you,” she replied, taking her phone back in her hand as she made her way back to her car.
“You know, you can just admit that you love me, it’s alright,” Bradley said into the receiver, and she rolled her eyes as she unlocked her car, swinging the door open to toss the takeout bag into the passenger’s seat. “Yeah, well, wouldn’t be wearing your ring if I didn’t, right?” She tittered, climbing into the driver’s seat, her phone once again pressed between her cheek and shoulder as she started the engine.
“Yeah,” Bradley sighed. “That, and you wouldn’t have let me fuck your brains out like last night.”
Her cheeks burned at the memory as she placed her phone down, letting the call connect to the Bluetooth instead, her lips curling into a smile. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Mr Bradshaw?”
Bradley’s laughter permeated the car as she backed out of her parking space, “no I cannot, Mrs Bradshaw.”
She chuckled as she drove down the street, stopping at a red light and propping her elbow against the car door, her fingers on her lips. “So are you on your way now?” Bradley asked, and she hummed in reply.
“Yeah. I’m just now leav—“
Her words caught in her throat when her eyes set upon a building down the block, gaze locked on the old, rusted sign that read ‘ANTIQUES.’ The silence was filled with Bradley’s voice, “babe? Hellloooooo? Still there?”
She blinked when the car behind her honked their horn and she realized the light had turned green, her fingers tightening their feel on the steering wheel. Her heart pounded on her chest, unable to shake the voice in her head telling her to stop.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned, parking in front of the old antique shop, sighing as she shifted the car into park.
“Hellooooo? Mrs Bradshaw? My wife? Love of my life?”
“Um… I’ll be there soon there’s just… there’s just something I need to do really quick,” she finally replied, reaching for her purse.
“Oooookay… see you soon?” Bradley said, audibly confused.
“Mhm, yeah,” she replied, turning the engine off and bringing her phone back to her ear as she climbed out of the car. “See you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too…”
The call ended as she pulled the door open to the shop, the smell of old books, dust, and wood polish wafting to her nostrils, her shoulders heaving when she sighed. The older woman at the counter looked up from her book, her eyes crinkling when she smiled and waved. Giving a small smile in return, she waved back, her eyes settling on a sign on the counter, a cardboard box just below.
‘PHOTOS……….25 CENTS EACH’
Looking away from the older woman, she stepped closer to the cardboard box, the smell of musty old paper filling her nostrils but she didn’t grimace or cringe away. She pushed her phone inside her purse and began to sift through the photos, a lump forming at her throat as she eyed the different black and white photographs.
There was one of a bride, the date on the back reading 1933. Another of two lovers, their faces lit up in smiles as they sat on their front porch, the back captioned ‘July 1962. Our first house!’
Her lips curled into a soft smile, her fingertips ghosting over the pale faces of the two lovers, their hands laced together over the arms of their chairs.
Her heart skipped a couple of beats and she breathed a chuckle, thinking back to when she and Bradley officially moved into their first house together. It was mid-July, the San Diego heat was unforgiving and by lunch, the two of them were drenched in sweat, panting from the amount of moving furniture they had been doing.
They had finally settled on a place to set down the couch, muscles aching as they plopped down side by side on the cushions, fluttering their eyes closed as they caught their breaths.
“You should’ve just let Jake and Javy come help,” she panted, rolling her neck to turn and face him. Bradley grumbled as he pressed his lips together, rolling his neck on the back cushions and squeezing his eyelids shut tighter. “Absolutely not. There is no way I’m letting Hangman into the house,” Bradley shook his head and she rolled her eyes. “We still could’ve used the help. And they offered.”
Bradley peeled a single eyelid open and cocked an eyebrow to his hairline, “what do you mean? We’re doing great,” he replied, shifting his weight. She rolled her eyes as she glanced down to his sweat-stained gray tank top, laughing as she gave his belly a few pats.
“Sure big guy, I just love being absolutely drenched in sweat and not being able to feel my arms. Or legs for that matter,” she sighed, giggling when he caught her wrist, tugging her closer into him. “Yeah, I know you do,” he grinned. “Just like last night, right?”
Furrowing her eyebrows, she rolled her fingers into her palm to form a fist and knocked him on the shoulder, causing him to laugh and tug her down into the cushions with him by the wrist. She couldn’t help but break her glare and laugh as he pulled her weight on top of him, his hand curling around the back of her head, the other gripping her hip through her shorts.
“Jesus, you just can’t help yourself, can you Bradshaw?”
Bradley smirked and leaned in, pressing a teasing kiss to her lips, his mustache tickling the skin just below her nose.
“No I cannot, future Mrs Bradshaw.”
She chuckled to herself as she set the photograph back down on top of the pile of Polaroids, sifting through the old, feeble paper before another photograph caught her eye, and she had to stop and smile. This one was of a teenage couple standing in the driveway, leaning against the hood of a car in their finest clothes. Their hands were locked together, the girl’s head on the boy’s shoulder, each giving the camera a bright smile. On the bottom of the photograph was a date written in black ink: ‘April 1958. Prom.’
A lump formed at the base of her throat at the memory the photograph brought back, the first time she ever saw Bradley. Girl’s night had decided to move to the small, seaside bar that was the Hard Deck, the sky was void of blue, small flecks of white littering its dark canvas instead. It was a quarter past eleven by the time she and her friend had stumbled in, but you’d never guess it was nearing midnight with how crowded and lively the place was.
Her friend had taken her by the hand to lead her towards the bar, dropping it when they arrived and leaving her to wrap her arms around herself instead. Her eyes wandered among the sea of people surrounding her, she was never one for crowds— and they were pretty much shoulder to shoulder with everyone in this little bar.
She glanced back to where her friend was in front of her, blinking when she realized her friend had completely forgotten about her, choosing to sidle up to a man with dark, buzzed hair instead. Her face fell at this and she threw her arms to her sides, a furrow in her brow.
So much for girl’s night.
She scanned the bar and the other surrounding tables for any free seats, unfortunately coming to no avail. Her chest heaved when she huffed, running her fingers through the hair atop her head as she swung her head back around, fully intending to call out her friend for leaving her alone.
That was, until she stopped, her gaze landing on someone entirely new instead.
Suddenly, the bar didn’t seem so lively or crowded, nor did the noise seem to drill a hole from her ears into her skull. All at once, the crowd seemed to slow, and so did time as her eyes locked onto a pair of hazel eyes across the room, her limbs locking in place.
It was a man in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, exposing the white tank he had on underneath, a pair of aviators hanging off the neckline and teasing a sliver of the skin of his chest. There was a mustache above his lip that on anyone else, she’d have scrunched her nose at but on him… it was just perfect. He was perfect.
And he was staring right back at her.
And then he was coming closer.
All she could do was stand there and wait, feeling color burn her cheeks with each step he took closer, feeling as if she’d burst into flames when he approached, his fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer. His lips were full and pink and shiny with a mixture of saliva and beer, and when he swiped his tongue between them before murmuring a “hello,” his deep, rich hazel irises studying every feature of her face, she knew she was done for.
“Hi,” she replied breathlessly, her chest heaving with a breathy laugh. The man looked around, a furrow in his brow, “you didn’t come with anyone, did you?” He asked and she giggled again, eyeing the ground and shaking her head. “No, uh… my friend over there ditched me,” she said, gesturing to where her friend sat with the man in a Navy uniform at the bar. He turned to gaze at where they sat, the corner of his lips quirking when he tittered. “Coyote,” he mumbled beneath his breath before turning to face her once again. “Thank God. So there’s no one I have to worry about? No boyfriend, husband?”
She cocked an eyebrow at this, trying to suppress her grin. “Are you making a move on me, aviator?” She eyed the aviators still dangling off the neck of his shirt. He followed her gaze, breathing a laugh, “would you turn me down if I was?”
He seemed closer now. Normally, she’d shy away. But already with him, she didn’t think being this close was such a bad thing.
“I don’t know. You got game?” She asked, looking up at him, their eyes surging into one another’s. The man grinned, “oh, I got game.”
They spent the majority of the night sidled up together in the corner of the building, able to snatch a table away from everyone else and most importantly, away from his fellow aviator friends. He told her his name— it was Bradley— and they talked for hours upon end about anything and everything and she was practically spilling her entire soul for a man she had met mere hours ago but somehow, it just felt so right.
Before either of them knew it, the noise in the bar seemed to die down as the crowd began to slowly but surely spill away— neither her friend nor this Coyote Bradley spoke of in sight. By one in the morning, it was only them and a few other drunks downing as many beers as they could physically handle at the bar. Soft music played through the speakers, her eyelids growing heavy but still, she didn’t want to leave. If she could stay here in this bar with Bradley forever, she absolutely would.
“Are you alright?” Bradley finally asked, noting her heavy eyelids, “want to call it a night?” She smiled, rolling her straw around her drink, shaking her head. “No,” she admitted, kicking her shoes against his. He humored her and gave her foot a playful nudge back, tilting his head up to the ceiling, humming. She cocked an eyebrow at this, “what?”
Bradley glanced back down at her and grinned, “I love this song.”
She paused to take a moment and listen to the song, smooth jazz and soft lyrics permeating the nearly empty Hard Deck. She pointed towards the ceiling, “Chet?”
Bradley’s grin widened, “Baker.”
It was then that Bradley rose from his seat, downing the last droplets of beer left in his bottle before setting it back down on the table, outstretching a hand towards her. She eyed his hand curiously before glancing back up at him and his stupidly handsome smile and his stupidly handsome mustache.
“What are you doing?” She questioned, prompting him to shake his hand around, gesturing for her to take it. “Come on, the dance floor is all ours.”
She could feel the scarlet creeping to her cheeks at this and she shook her head, gazing down at her fingers where they cuddled with one another on the top of the table. “I don’t dance,” she replied, to which Bradley groaned and rolled his eyes, snatching her hand with his anyway. “Bradley!” She shrieked as he hoisted her out of her seat, dragging her towards the open floor.
“Come on, all you have to do is follow my lead.”
She whined as he pulled her into his chest, her muscles stiff when he slithered a hand around her waist to rest on the small of her back, encasing her hand with his free one. Her heart was pounding and she was so sure he could feel it against his chest, only adding to the heat pooling in her cheeks.
“Your hearts pounding,” he noted as he began to sway them back and forth gently to the music, and she scowled, glaring up at him. “Thanks, I hardly notice,” she replied, sarcasm lacing every syllable but still, she couldn’t help but laugh, feeling herself becoming more and more relaxed. Bradley joined along, gently pressing her in closer to his chest, letting her rest the side of her head just above his heartbeat.
“Yours is too,” she said in hardly a whisper, but Bradley breathed a chuckle. “It’s because you’re so good at dancing,” he remarked and she rolled her eyes. “Please, this is hardly dancing,” she tittered and Bradley pulled away just enough to catch her gaze, his pools of hazel spilling into her own.
She thought her heart skipped a couple of beats.
“Well whatever is it, I think I’d like to do more of it,” he said. “With you, of course.”
Her vision was glossy and wet with tears now and she sniffed as she dropped the picture back in the box, backing away from the counter to glimpse around the old shop. There was a dark, dusty bookcase in the corner, books scattered about its shelves and the overwhelming smell of old paper and cedarwood made her scratch her nose. Her eyes lined the spines of the books, looking for any stories she recognized.
That was when she came upon a book covered in cobwebs, the spine reading ‘ROMEO AND JULIET’ in bold, faded gold letters. She sniffed again as she recounted the old tale, a story of a romance torn apart by fate. It was strange, the way the tragedy made her feel now.
She couldn’t help but let her mind wander, couldn’t help but put herself and Bradley in Romeo and Juliet’s shoes. It was silly– so ridiculous– for her to think this way, to think that even in the 1500s off in a foreign, even if she were forced to marry another man, that she would still find her way to Bradley.
She could feel a tear drip down her cheek and she blinked the blurriness away from her vision as best she could, wiping her face as she backed away from the bookshelf, her arms wrapped around herself. And when the haziness was gone from her vision, her eyes caught on a framed photo on the wall, a man in a uniform and his wife embracing in the midst of a crowded street. She blinked down to the year written on the bottom of the frame, 1944.
Her heart was bursting at its seams– never up until this point had she come to realize just the extent of her love for Bradley. She wasn’t sure what it was about this old antique shop that made her feel so connected to Bradley, as if there were a thread of fate tying them together. But somehow she knew– she knew in her mind, heart, and soul– that they were supposed to find this. Each other. She knew that even in a different life– whether that’d be in a crowded street in 1944, a quiet neighborhood in July of 1962, a school dance in 1958, or in a foreign land in the 1500s– he still would’ve been hers, and they would’ve been timeless.
She wanted him to be her past, present, and future. She wanted to love him even when their hair turned gray, and she wanted to have a cardboard box full of photos of the life they made just like the one on the counter. She wanted to sit on the front porch with him some day in the future with their grandchildren playing around in the yard, holding hands as they went through photographs they’d taken throughout the years, and Bradley would say “oh my, we really were timeless.” And somehow, she knew that was their future. It was almost as if she could reach out and feel it.
She sniffed again and reached back into her purse to fish out her phone, gazing down at the photo of her and Bradley on their honeymoon she had saved as her home screen wallpaper. She took a few moments to simply stare at the picture, to reminisce on the memory before unlocking her device, finding the phone app and pressing on Bradley’s contact.
“Hello?” Bradley said into the receiver as she turned, walking past the counter to reach the exit. When she rested her hand on the door handle, however, she turned to look at the older woman behind the counter to find that she was already staring back.
The woman smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“Babe? Are you there?” Bradley asked again and she turned, pushing open the exit door. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I’m here,” she replied as she made her way to her car, tugging open the door and slipping inside. “Thank God. Thought I was a booty call for a second there,” he chuckled and she scowled, tossing her purse into the passenger’s seat beside their lunch.
“Please don’t say booty,” she sighed as she started the car engine, connecting the call back to the Bluetooth. Bradley’s laugh permeated her car, “I want to see your booty. When are you bringing me my lunch?” He whined and her lips curved into a smile, dropping her forehead against the top of the steering wheel and shaking her head.
“I’m on my way now,” she chuckled, buckling in her seat belt and taking one last look up at the old, rusted antique shop sign. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, you better hurry. But don’t hurry too much. Can’t pay another goddamn ticket.”
“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” She tittered as she back out of her parking spot, making her way down the street towards the Naval base. “Let’s not turn this into an interrogation now,” Bradley replied. “Anyways, I’ll see you soon?”
She smiled, “yeah. I love you.”
“Love ya too, darlin. Can’t wait to see your boot–”
She rolled her eyes as she ended the call before he could finish his sentence, her heart still pounding against her chest, every feeling she felt in the antique shop still weighing heavy in her chest. Before she even knew it, she was pulling into the Naval base, ID in hand. At last, she had made it to base, taking the takeout bag and her purse with her as she exited her car, a lump forming at the base of her throat.
She made her routine walk through security and down the hallways before she finally reached the lounge she’d always meet Bradley in and when she pushed open the door, there he was, sitting at a table near the back, watching the sports highlights playing on the television. Jake and Javy were there too, as well as a few other aviators she hadn’t seen much of too.
“Mrs. Bradshaw in the flesh!” Jake exclaimed when he caught her eye from the other side of the room and she watched as Bradley’s head shot up, his lips curving into that stupidly handsome grin of his. “You got Rooster sushi?” Javy gaped as she walked by, setting the bag of takeout on the table in front of Bradley as he stood, cupping her face in either of his hands to give her a peck on the lips. “When was the last time anyone’s ever brought us sushi, Hangman?”
She chuckled as she settled herself down into her seat, wringing her hands together as Bradley rolled his eyes at them. “One of the benefits of having the best wife in the world,” he shrugged before settling himself down in his own seat across from her, tearing open the plastic bag to fish out the carry-out boxes.
“God, you really do spoil me too much, babe. Gonna have to train extra hard after you treat me like this,” he practically moaned at the sight of his favorite roll when he opened the styrofoam box, but all she could focus on was him. She could feel the familiar sting of tears burning the outskirts of her eyes, her chest burning with the same thing she felt in the antique shop.
Bradley must’ve sensed there was something different in her, for after he stuffed his cheeks full of sushi, he glanced up at her, furrowing his brows at her tear-filled expression.
“Ish somefing wrong?” He asked through his mouthful and her chest heaved with a laugh, shaking her head and wiping at the tears lining her eyelids. “No, nothing’s wrong,” she tittered, reaching for his hand where is rested beside his takeout box. He let her fingers slip between his, although still bewildered as he looked up at her. “Then what is it?” He questioned, and all she could think to do was smile.
“I’m just… I’m just really glad we found each other.”
a/n; so yeah... in conclusion, timeless is my song!
summary: you and Jake have never been quite close but a bit of drinks and flirting you end up in his bed what was supposed to be one time...
Jakes pov
It was Payback's birthday and all of you went to the club in town for a little celebration with the two next days off.
Jake, Javy and Y/N walked into the already-full club, the vibrations of the music in Jake's chest as they walked in. Javy was the designated driver for the night, meaning of course that he wasn't drinking alcohol. Not that he minded, he was glad to have a clear mind to check out with some ladies tonight.
Y/n looked incredible. She had left his to go and get ready, and had returned two hours later looking absolutely fucking phenomenal. She had smokey eyes and red lips, paired with perfectly curled hair and a black bodycon dress that make her body look absolutely exceptional. Jake simply couldn't look away.
"Happy Birthday,"she said as we walked over to the rest of the daggers hugging Reuben."Happy Birthday Payback," Jake tells him side-hugging him.
Jake talked with Rooster and Javy for a while him and Bradley sipping cheap drinks.
"I'll get us drinks!" Y/N yelled over the music, making the boys nod as Jake placed his hand on the girl's waist and led her to the bar.
"Ten shots of whatever, please." Bradley ordered. The bartender nodded and started to make the drinks, Jake's eyes glued to Y/N as she talked Phoenix at the bar. Javy and Bradley noticed the glances, a smirk on their lips as he turned to look at Jake.
"So, Y/N, huh?" Rooster asked. Jake looked at him.
"What?" he scoffed.
"Dude, you've been fully eye-fucking her since she arrived at our place. Don't try to deny it." Coyote chuckled. Jake returned it and shook his head.
"Okay, fine. I'll admit that she looks fucking incredible. She definitely caught my attention when she knocked my ass out of the sky in the first five minutes of dogfight" he scoffed.
"Same thing that happened to us. She is amazing." Rooster stated, making Jake laugh and nod as the bartender put the shots on the bar.
"Finally." Y/N chuckled as she turned back to them as Rooster carried the shots back to the table where the rest of the daggers are sitting.
"Here's to Reuben who's ageing like fine wine may I say and to what I suspect is going to be a very fun and eventful night." Y/N nodded, making Jake smirk and bite his lip as she winked at him before downing the shot.
Your pov
"Want to dance?" Hangman shouted over the music. You bit your lip and nodded, Jake smirking at you as he curled his hands around your waist. He landed them on your lower back, your arms curling over his shoulders to pull him closer as you joined your foreheads. You started dancing, his hands roaming over your body as you danced. You looked up at him, his green eyes staring back at you and shining with lust. The sexual tension between you had been building steadily since he had talked to you at your first day being back to Top Gun, and you had a feeling that it was about to explode. Jake leaned his head down and placed his lips by your ear.
"How drunk are you?" he asked.
"Just a bit more than tipsy. No more." You shook your head and gently nipped at his earlobe. You knew exactly why he was asking, he was making sure that you could do stuff without either of you being compromised in any way.
You knew what was about to happen. You knew exactly what was about to happen and his and your callsign does give the two of you a reputation of it.
To say that you were ready for that was an understatement. Jake pulled away and smirked at you, making you return it as he leant down and pressed your lips together. You returned the kiss immediately, your hands curling around his neck to pull him closer as his hands gripped your hips.
You pulled gently on the hair at the nape of his neck, making him moan into your mouth as we continued making out. You smirked against his lips, him returning it as his tongue slipped into your mouth and quickly dominated the kiss. You had always suspected that Jake would be the dominant type in bed. He broke the kiss and moved his lips down to your neck, making you breathe out as you held him close. His lips kissed up to your ear.
"You want to get out of here? Head back to mine?" he yelled over the music.
"What about Javy?" you shouted back.
"He could see this coming." he admitted. You rolled your eyes playfully, making Jake smirk as you took his hand and started to pull him to the edge of the crowd.
Jake and you stumbled into his apartment, your lips joined and your hands roaming each other's bodies as you stumbled in. You made out, your tongues clashing and Jake's hands tightly gripping your hips as he shut the door with his foot.
You squealed against his lips as he pulled on your thighs and lifted you up, both of you smirking into the kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you into his room, your mouths continuing to clash and press together before he threw you onto the bed. You landed with a small bounce and smirked at Jake as he shrugged his dress jacket off before crawling onto the bed and over you. He joined your lips again, your hands cupping his neck and pulling him flush against your body as he held your legs around his waist. He moved his lips down to your neck and started to leave open-mouthed kisses against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, your back arching into his chest at the feeling.
"You're so beautiful, Minx." he mumbled into your skin, making you smirk as he started to kiss down to your collarbone. He sat up and started to tug on the bottom of your dress, hinting that he wanted it off. You complied and sat up underneath him before pulling your dress over your head, leaving you in just a bra and thong.
"Fuck, Minx." Jake moaned at the sight of you. You smirked at his reaction before leaning up and pressing your lips together again. He returned the kiss, the weight of his body pushing you back down into the bed as his lips moved down again.
He started to kiss down the valley of your breasts, his hand hooking around your back and unclipping your bra before throwing it to the floor. His hands roughly groped your breasts, making you moan and arch your back again as his lips moved down to your stomach.
He looked up at you through his eyelashes, making your legs turn to jelly as his lips trailed down to the edge of your thong. He hooked his fingers into the waistband before pulling them down, leaving you completely naked and exposed to the attractive boy.
He gently spread your legs with his large hands, your lip in between your teeth as you eagerly awaited the start of your pleasure. As if on cue, he lowered his face and attached his lips to your clit, making you cry out and arch you back off of the bed.
"Hangman, fuck!" You moaned loudly, your hands dropping onto his head and gently pulling on his hair. He moaned into your clit, adding more pleasure to the mix as his lips sucked on your clit and his tongue dipped in and out of you. You dug your head into the pillow and squeezed your eyes shut as the boy eagerly ate you out.
"That good, Minx?" he mumbled against you as his hands raised to start groping your breasts again.
"Fuck, so good, Hangman." you choked as the knot in your stomach started to build up. You gasped, more waves of pleasure entering your body as Jake gently pushed a finger into you, his digit, mouth and tongue working in perfect synchronicity to push you closer to the edge with every movement.
You choked and tried to squeeze your legs shut in an attempt to deal with the pleasure, making Jake smirk against you as he pushed them back open again with his spare hand.
"Fuck, Jake, keep going, I'm getting closer." You nodded as his finger continued to push into you and his lips continued to suck on your clit.
"Don't worry, Minx, I'll get you there." he cooed.
"I don't doubt that." you smirked, making him return it. The smirk disappeared and you gulped, your heart pounding in your chest as the knot grew even tighter. Another gasp left your lips as Jake inserted a second finger, the small action pushing you over the edge.
You moaned loudly, profanities and spills of the boy's name leaving your lips as your legs shook and your toes curled. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, making you pant heavily as you came down from the high.
Jake removed his mouth and fingers from you before standing up at the end of the bed. You looked at him, making him smirk as he skimmed his eyes up and down your naked and exposed body.
"You look, and taste, incredible, Minx." he smirked. You returned it and bit your lip as you enjoyed the show of Jake starting to get undressed.
He quickly unbuttoned his white dress shirt before pulling it off of his shoulders, showing you his extremely ripped body. You'd seen it in training but never up close. And fuck, what a treat it was to see it for real.
"What, you like what you see, Y/n?" Jake teased, making you smirk and nod.
"Oh, definitely." you returned the flirting. His smirk widened as he quickly unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers before pulling them down.
He pulled his boxers down, forcing you to suppress a moan as his 8 inch rock-hard dick slapped against his abs. You had suspected that Jake would be decently endowed, but fuck.
You looked back up at him as he crawled back over you, your lips joining again as he lay you back down. You continued making out, your hands on his neck as he reached to his bedside table to grab a condom.
"You still good with where this is going, angel?" he mumbled against your lips as he rolled the condom onto his dick.
"Don't stop now." you shook your head. He smirked and returned it before gently pushing into you, quiet sighs leaving both of your lips as he bottomed out.
"Fuck, sweetheart." he moaned as his head dropped to your neck.
"Move, Jake." you begged. He nodded and pulled almost fully out before thrusting back in, making you both moan at the incredible feeling of him filling you up.
I bit your lip as he developed a steady rhythm of harshly thrusting into you, the pace already making the knot begin to build as he started pounding into you.
Your eyes fluttered shut, your head rolling back onto the pillow as his lips left open-mouthed kisses on your neck and his hands held your thighs around his waist. This was fucking heaven.
"You feel incredible, Minx." he grunted into your neck.
"So do you, Hangman, don't stop, fuck." You moaned, making him smirk as he nipped and bit at your skin. He continued to pound into you, the sounds of your moans and your skin slapping together bouncing off of the walls.
The room smelt like pure sex as both of your bodies started to get coated in sweat, your pants and sighs echoing too. You squeezed your eyes shut, your body curled as far as it would go into Jake's as the knot got increasingly tight in your stomach.
"You getting close, darling?" he mumbled. You nodded and bit your lip, too much pleasure coursing through your body for your brain to form a coherent sentence.
Suddenly, Jake leant his hand down between your bodies and started to rub your clit with his thumb. You cried out at the action and pressed your chest even further into his as the extra pressure made the knot give way.
"Fuck, Jake!" you cried out, your eyes squeezed shut and your legs shaking around his waist as you second orgasm of the night hit you.
"Jesus, Y/N." Jake moaned into you neck, cumming seconds after I did as his body stilled. His thrusts slowed down, his body collapsing on top of yours as you both panted heavily.
"Fuck." you sighed, making Jake chuckle and nod as he gently pulled out of you.
"That was amazing, Minx." he smirked as he sat up and disposed of the condom.
"It was." you agreed. His smirk widened as he lay back on the bed before extending his arm. You took the hint and lay down next to him underneath the covers, his arm closing around your body and pulling you further into his body as you rested your hand and head on his naked chest.
You sighed in bliss, your eyes fluttering shut and Jake's resting his head on his pillow as your body relaxed into sleep and into Jake's arms. It had been a busy night.
But before Jake could fall asleep all he could think is : He just slept with his captain...
A/n: Eeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkk. And that ladies was the start of Mr and Mrs Seresin relationship. Hope you guys enjoyed that.
Should i do a second part of the next morning.....
Request: Can you do an imagine where the reader is the little sister of Bradley and Bradley wants to go on a double date with her. Bradley set it up, but last minute, the guy dropped out and Bradley had the date already paid for and planned. His last choice? Jake Seresin. I LOVE YOU WRITING BYE
Warning(s): None
Authors Note: Thank you! I love you! You're so creative too. I love this prompt! I hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 1K
"UNO!"
Everyone burst out into loud groans of disappointment. This was the third round in a row that you were going to win. As you held your card up with a malicious smirk, your eyes met with your friend sitting right across from you. Jake Seresin. He narrowed his bold green eyes at you, a small smile gradually growing across his face.
When his turn came around, he put down a color card. "Green and Uno."
The next player put down a skip card, which meant it was your turn again. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Everyone cheered as you leaned forward and picked up another card. The others took their turn and once it was on Jake again, he offered you a little wink.
"This one is for you [Y/N]," Jake teased, putting down his final green Uno card. Everyone started clapping. You couldn't help but smile at everyone's reaction. "You're welcome, sweetheart."
Everyone started saying good game to each other. In the midst of chatting with everyone, you were tapped on the shoulder by your older brother, Bradley. He asked if you could talk to him. You excused yourself and went into a separate room with him. Bradley closed the door and turned around to face you.
"So...You know how we were supposed to go on a double date tonight?" Bradley asked, slowly walking up to you. You raised an eyebrow. "Well, Charlotte can make it with me but...Damon just texted me and informed me that he won't be able to make it."
"What?!" You exclaimed. You shook your head, clearly upset. "I was really lookin' forward to going with Damon."
"The worst part is that I already have the movie tickets paid for and dinner paid for," Bradley claimed, running his hands through his silky brown hair. "Table for four and also the last four seats in the movie theater for that movie. It was an actual miracle I got those seats."
"Wow," You exhaled. "It seems that I need someone to go with me in about..."
"Five minutes."
"Five minutes?!" You gasped. "Who in the world-"
"Jake Seresin," Bradley interrupted, taking you by surprise. You cleared your throat and glared at him with the "Come again?" facial expression. "Look, hear me out, everyone here already has plans for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't. We're desperate. Please."
"You're desperate," You corrected, receiving an eye roll from Bradley. "I'm not goin' out with that brown-nosing, flirtatious little-"
"I'll tell Pete about what really happened at the party that one night," Bradley interjected, making you immediately reconsider. "You wouldn't want Pete to know that now would you?"
"It's always with the blackmail," You sighed. "Whatever. I'll go with Jake."
Bradley cheered and pulled you in to lay a big kiss on the top of your head. You grunted uncomfortably and pushed him off you, but that only won you a headlock from him. Growing up, you and Bradley got into more physical fights rather than verbal fights, but that's just how you two showed your love for each other.
It also helped you two bond and become stronger together.
»»----- ♡ -----««
"I heard the best friend dies at the end of this movie," Jake whispered. You inhaled deeply, trying not to lash out at him. "I'm just sayin' if the best friend dies...I called it."
Dinner was good. Well, the food was. You and Jake had completely different personalities and it was difficult to try to find common ground. It has been that way with him the entire time you've known him. It was hard, but you've dealt with worse people than him. Jake at least treats you kindly. Well, when he's in the mood to.
"The movie should start soon, so we should find out-"
You paused as you noticed a familiar face enter the movie theater. You audibly gasped and Jake snapped his head around to see who you were looking at. He just saw a man and a woman hand in hand with each other. You grumbled some unkind words as you shrunk down in your chair. Jake turned his attention back to you.
"What? Bitter about how you're not in a relationship?"
"Oh shut up," You groaned, throwing your hands over your face. You were on the edge of leaving. You dragged your hands down your face and glared coldly at Jake. "The man you just saw holding that woman's hand was the man who's supposed to be in your seat."
Jake noticed the hurt within your eyes, causing his heart to soften. "Oh, that troll was Damon? Sheesh. Ten bucks she rejects his kiss at the end of the night."
"Thanks Jake..." You softly spoke, lowering your eyes. "I just don't understand why he would say that he couldn't make it when clearly, he could have."
"His loss," Jake stated with a small shrug. "He doesn't have very good taste in women."
"What are you talking about? His date is gorgeous."
"She's not you [Y/N]," Jake declared, making your heart skip a beat. Was he being serious? "And you're beautiful inside and out."
You couldn't believe it. Jake not only complimented you, but he called you beautiful. You were a little confused, but you were secretly into it.
"Also, I was joking about the best friend dying thing earlier," Jake apologized. "I just wanted to see your reaction. I like teasing you."
"Yeah, I know you do," You chuckled. "But tonight, I'm going to allow it."
"Can I ask if you can allow one more thing?" Jake asked softly. "Would you allow me to kiss you at the end of the movie?"
You immediately felt your face increase in heat. Did Jake literally ask if he could kiss you? Your eyes caught Damon who was already making out with his date in his seat. You smirked and returned your attention to Jake.
"Why wait?"
Jake bit down on his lip, his beautiful green eyes fixated on your lips. You closed your eyes as you watched Jake lean in. The moment your lips collided, the lights turned all the way off and the movie started. You thought it was going to be a simple kiss, but Jake continued to kiss you, so you followed his lead.
In the end, you both smiled at each other. He wasn't that bad of a kisser.
A/N: Yay we're finally back with our favorite BBF! This chapter was inspired by a photo of Glen at an amusement park that's been floating around recently. If anyone could convince me to step foot into a haunted house, it would be Jake.
Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.
CW: Haunted house attraction with mild (fake) gore, swearing, SLOW BURN YOU'VE BEEN WARNED DON'T COME FOR ME XD
WC: 3000+
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist
“I don’t do haunted houses,” you say when Jake makes the suggestion for the fourth time that afternoon.
He and Bradley have just returned from the river log ride completely soaked and stupidly giddy. Jake raises his eyebrows at you. “You’ll go on the tallest roller coaster in the park but you’re afraid of a couple of zombie clowns?”
You cringe. “What the fuck are zombie clowns?”
Jake shrugs. “Whatever they are. It’ll be fun.”
“You’re really selling it,” you respond dryly. “But I think I’ll stick to the funnel cake.” You nod toward the stand a few yards away.
“You already skipped out on the log ride,” Bradley complains.
You eye his still-dripping shorts with a grimace. “It’s barely 60 degrees,” you say, tugging up on the zipper of your hoodie for emphasis.
Jake plants himself across from you at the bistro table and leans into it to get your attention. “You don’t actually want to sit here by yourself for another hour, do you?”
You shrug, glancing around. “I don’t mind, actually,” you say, your gaze drifting with the crowd as you pick out the best looking males. “I got asked out twice while you two were gone.”
Jake makes a disgruntled sort of face like he’s getting impatient. “Who asked you out?” he says with a hint of distaste as though he already disapproves. He glances around at the crowd of passersby suspiciously.
“Well, they’re gone now.”
Jake lets out an irritable sigh and looks back at you. “Come on, you’re not a wimp, Bradshaw.”
You shake your head. “That’s not going to work.”
“Let’s just go, Jake,” Bradley says. “We can’t force her.”
Jake stares at Bradley. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s being approached by random men. We can’t just leave her here.”
Bradley snorts. “Why not?”
Jake appears uncomfortable, but only for a moment. He shifts his weight in the chair and turns back to you. “I distinctly remember all three of us at Castle Frankenstein like ten years ago.”
“Mm-hm,” you reply. “And, since then, I don’t do haunted houses.”
Jake grimaces. “Why not?”
You give him a flat look. “You don’t remember?”
Jake furrows his brows and shakes his head.
“Oh yeah!” Bradley exclaims. “Good times.”
You stare at your brother crossly and then roll your eyes.
Jake glances between the two of you inquisitively. “All I remember is getting hot dogs right after,” he says.
You sigh. “You two assholes told me it wouldn’t be scary and then, after luring me in, you took off laughing! You left me behind to do the whole thing by myself.”
Bradley is chuckling smugly, but Jake looks mildly horrified. “Wow, we were shitheads,” he says with a cringe.
“Dude, we’re still shitheads,” Bradley points out.
Jake looks up at his friend with a wince and then rubs his forehead guiltily. “Y/N,” he says. “I promise you that, if you come, we’re not gonna ditch you.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bradley says with a playful grin.
Jake gives him a stern look before glancing back at you. “I promise I won’t ditch you.”
You watch him skeptically, your arms folded over your chest.
“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks.
You purse your lips, trying not to be swayed by the slight squint of Jake’s eyes when he gives you a hopeful smile. You can’t help but daydream for a moment. You picture yourself being chased by zombie clowns with Jake by your side, holding your hand. And, if they’d get too close, maybe he would knock them out to keep you safe.
“Come on, sugar,” Jake says, interrupting your thoughts. He starts rising from him seat and holds out a hand for you. “We can use Bradley as a shield.”
You snort while Bradley shakes his head with a chuckle. “You can try,” he replies, starting for the haunted house.
You let out a sigh and take Jake’s hand, letting him drag you out of your chair. “I’m already regretting this decision,” you mutter.
Jake laughs. “This is gonna be fun!”
…
You gulp nervously as you step into the darkness. The moment the doors close behind you, your hand reaches out for one of the guys, making sure you're not alone. Somebody gives you a pat on the arm, silently reassuring as you advance. Suddenly, a loud bang to your right makes you jump, and you hear Jake's snicker right before he moves behind to lay a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“Wicked,” you hear Bradley say as he travels slightly ahead of you. You follow your brother with Jake close behind, probably much closer than he would be in broad daylight, especially with Bradley just a few steps away.
“Remember,” Jake mutters from behind. “If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.”
You whimper. “Who won’t chase me?”
In the sparse, flashing lights, you see your brother take off down the hallway, setting off several animatronics as he goes. You slow your pace and Jake, who is still sopping wet, walks right into you. The sudden chill of his saturated clothes takes you by surprise and you yelp, springing away from him.
Jake leaps after you to grab your arm when you nearly trip over the cadaver that falls out of the wall and right into your path. “Having fun?” he asks facetiously as he helps you regain your balance, and you can sense the grin on his face without even seeing it.
“I hate you for making me do this,” you hiss.
Jake wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “You’re doin’ great, sweet cheeks.”
You wince at the cold seeping through your shirt and wriggle out of his grasp. “Seresin, you’re all wet!”
“Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly.
Just then, a large gust of air hits you from the side and you scream, flinging yourself right back into Jake’s arms. Jake pulls you in immediately and spins you away, blocking the air current with his back. But your relief is short-lived because, out of nowhere, two clowns with melting faces come barreling toward you with their arms outstretched.
You scream and, despite the sudden weakness in your limbs, start sprinting down the dimly lit corridor, completely forgetting Jake's instructions.
Jake catches up to you quickly and when the clowns all but overtake you, he curls his arm around your waist and practically lifts you off the ground as he runs.
When you finally round the bend and lose the clowns, Jake slows down and releases you, letting you catch your breath as he places his hands on his hips and takes a look around. “That was awesome,” he says with a huge smile.
You’re still gasping for air when you look up at him with a scowl. “You’re a lunatic if you enjoyed that.”
He claps you on the back. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We’re almost half-way through.”
“We’re not even half-way done?” you whine.
Jake chuckles. “Admit it, you’re having a blast,” he says.
You whimper quietly when he motions for you to follow him down another dark hallway. “I am never letting you talk me into this nonsense again,” you grumble, staying close behind him just in case another zombie clown pops out of the shadows.
But what you do not anticipate is the vibrating floor that makes you jerk backward, nor the fog that suddenly floods the corridor, nor the alarming screams that attack from all directions, making it impossible to communicate. You feel the floorboards shift underneath your feet and you hold out your arms to stabilize yourself. You stagger backward into a wall, and it rotates behind you, further disorienting you.
“Jake?” you cry, realizing that you’ve lost him in all the commotion. But your voice is drowned out by the continuous screaming still reverberating all around you.
In the flashes of light, you can see dozens of hands rattling a chain-link fence that looks like it won’t hold for very much longer. You try to push your way back through the wall – the way you came in – but it doesn't budge, meaning you’re stuck in this room until you find another way out.
“Jake!” you yell again, terror rooting you to the spot. The fence to your right finally rips open and gangly arms start stretching out toward you, making you jolt backward. You shriek, moving along the wall slowly because you’re too afraid to fall into another trap.
You reach the end of the chamber, which opens up to a tunnel, and whimper tragically. Going in will surely mean that you will have to complete the haunted maze without Jake, but the tunnel is probably the only way out of this room.
You only have a second to deliberate however, because at that moment, the fence behind you comes crashing down and a horde of zombies escapes. In the shadows, it looks like there might be more than half a dozen of them stumbling in your direction, tripping over one another to get to you.
If you don’t run, they won’t chase you. If you don’t run, they won’t chase you.
But the zombies are still coming, their hideous shrieks even more off-putting than their decaying faces.
You lunge into the tunnel and sprint faster and faster even as the passageway dips and winds and darkens. At a certain point, you are forced to stop running because it gets too dark to find your way without holding your hands out to feel the curve of the walls.
And then you hear his voice.
“Y/N!”
“Oh my god! Jake!” you screech.
“Y/N?” he yells back.
You start pushing on the solid wall before you because it sounds like he’s right on the other side. “Jake, where are you?” You can hear the zombies gaining on you further up the tunnel and you sob, “Jake, please get me out of here.”
Suddenly, a door creaks open to your right and you start, cowering from the blinking red light that filters into the pitch black passage. But then you see Jake’s broad-shouldered silhouette enter through the opening and, in your relief, you throw yourself right into him, burying your face into his chest as his arms close around your back. His grip tightens as you clutch onto the front of his soaked shirt, and you can feel his mouth over the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he mutters into your hair. “I’ve got you.”
But before you can sink into the feeling of having Jake Seresin’s strong arms supporting your trembling frame, you hear the sound of footsteps as the zombies come hurtling through the tunnel. Without a word, Jake pulls you sideways, tucking you and himself behind the open door. He brings a finger to his lips when he sees that you’re about to cry out, and you hold your breath, watching the flashing lights illuminate the exhilaration in his eyes.
You close your own eyes as the zombies near, deciding that no amount of attention from Jake is worth participating in this traumatizing experience. And you promise yourself that you will never be swayed by his stupid, irresistible smile again.
That’s when you feel his body brush up against yours. You open your eyes to see his face hovering over your own, watching you intently as the zombies race by your hiding spot. His mouth curls into a smirk when it becomes apparent that his plan has worked as expected. You try your best to concentrate on the direct threat of flesh-eating zombies and not on his leg that’s pressed into your thigh, or his hand that you suddenly notice is gripping your hip, but it isn’t easy prioritizing escape when his eyes are dancing with delight only about three inches from your face.
You want him to kiss you. You want him to kiss you so badly. Right here in the darkness, concealed behind a heavy, wooden door, surrounded by a dense mist and a musty smell, with the added ambience of distant screams in the background. But, of course, you aren’t going to voice this desire. Because that would be more terrifying than getting eaten alive by a bunch of zombie clowns. So, instead, you say, “Get me the fuck out of here, Seresin.”
Jake nods, stepping away from you slowly, almost reluctantly. He holds his arm out to direct you out of the tunnel through the splintered door. He leads you past the holographic apparitions that float eerily along the walls, through the hall of warped mirrors that make your eyes hurt and your head spin, and over the various trap doors in the final stretch of your journey.
But he stops when you get to a dark, narrow split between two concrete walls. “This is the exit,” he says with a grimace. “Sorry,” he adds.
You shake your head. “I’m not going in there.”
“There’s no other way out.”
You stare at him in horror. “I’m claustrophobic.”
Jake drags a hand over his face. “That’s not good,” he says.
You feel yourself start to panic so you lash out by slapping him on the shoulder. “How could you not know that?”
Jake shrugs. “I forgot, I guess.”
Your breathing accelerates as your heart pounds painfully against your ribcage. “I hate your guts, Seresin,” you mutter. “You’re going to pay for this.”
In response, Jake gives you a very broad, very happy smile, as though you didn’t just tell him that you despise him.
“What?” you say heatedly.
Jake continues grinning. “You’re mad.”
“Yeah, I’m mad! Why are you so happy about it?”
He shakes his head. “No reason.”
You glare at him. “You should fear my wrath.”
He bites his lip, watching you affectionately. “It’s definitely the scariest part of this whole place.”
“I’m angry!” you yell, although you feel a fit of laughter start to bubble up in your chest.
Jake tries to keep a straight face. “Okay, but, could you be angry in there?” He nods at the chasm leading toward the exit, his eyes scanning the area behind you. “Because the zombies are coming.”
He ushers you into the fissure between the walls, keeping his hand on your back as you make your way forward. The only thing that makes up for this stressful conclusion to an already harrowing adventure is that his fingers seem to slip further down your back the farther you walk, trailing past the waistline of your jeans and stopping in the vicinity of your back pocket.
“See?” he says cheerily as the gap between the walls begins to narrow. “It’s not that bad.”
You try to concentrate on the light touch of his fingers as he hooks a couple of them into the back pocket of your jeans rather than the cracking walls rising up on either side of your body that seem to be closing in on you the deeper you go.
“Just so you know, there’s going to be a vibrating floor tile somewhere up ahead,” Jake says quietly, very close to your ear. “It’s coming up.”
You look over your shoulder sharply. “No,” you respond curtly, as if you could will this particular contraption away.
Jake squeezes himself in between your chest and the wall, his fingers regrettably slipping out of your pocket. The space is so tight that, no matter how much you press you backs into the walls, your bodies are still touching. “You can do this,” he says. “I’m right here.”
You frown at him, annoyed and love-sick all at once. Why did he insist on you coming? Why did he bring you along knowing he’d have to babysit you the entire time? Unless he doesn’t mind being with you. Perhaps it’s what he was hoping for.
Jake’s eyes skim worriedly over your face. “Are you okay?” he asks.
You draw in a wavering breath, content to let him fret for another several seconds over your wellbeing. Finally, you respond, “If we survive this hellhole, I’m going to murder you.”
Jake chuckles, placing his hands on your shoulders. “If we survive this hellhole, I’m getting you two funnel cakes.”
You let out a resolute sigh and nod. “Make it three. I want one of each flavor.”
Jake grins. “You got it.”
You bring your hands up to push at his chest, squirming in the compact space against his shirt. “How are you still wet?” you say irritably. “We’ve been in here for hours.”
Jake makes a face. “It’s been like six minutes, actually.”
You groan. “And this is why I don’t do haunted houses.”
…
Finally – finally – you step out into the cool, breezy sunshine with Jake on your heels. Bradley waves at the two of you from across the walkway, coming over to greet you.
“Took you a while,” Bradley remarks.
You grimace at him. “It’s only been like six minutes,” you retort sourly.
Jake looks like he might be trying to suppress a laugh.
“As if you took off again,” you reprimand your brother.
Bradley shrugs. “The trick is to race through these things and not stop to smell the rotting flesh.”
You shudder. “I need to sit down; my legs feel like jelly.”
“Log ride?” Bradley says to Jake. “While this one recuperates?” He nods toward you with a grin.
Jake pinches at his still soaking shirt and then wrinkles his nose. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he says. “Promised your sister I’d get her funnel cake.”
“Three,” you remind him.
Jake graces you with an amused smirk. “I would love to see you try to get through three whole funnel cakes.”
As Bradley takes off in the direction of the log ride, you glance at Jake apprehensively. “You could go with him,” you say, cursing yourself for even suggesting it because all you want is to spend some time alone with Jake – not inside of a nuthouse.
Jake gives you a quick smile before starting for the funnel cake stand. “Don’t want to,” he responds.
You fall into step with him, wondering why he’d rather hang around you than his best friend. As he’s ordering the funnel cakes, you decide that you’re reading too much into things and he’s probably just hoping to dry off before going on the next ride, and that his decision to skip the log ride has nothing to do with you at all.
But then, as the two of you watch the mesmerizing creation of the world’s most delicious pastry through the glass window of the kitchen, Jake says this: “Heard you broke up with what’s-his-name.”
Your grip on the tray in your hands tightens but your eyes remain on the rapidly frying dough. It was a casual question, and Jake isn’t even looking at you, but his repeated interest in your dating life continues to give you hope where there probably isn’t any. He’s just making conversation. You shrug. “He was an asshole,” you say nonchalantly.
“Told you he would be,” Jake responds with an equally casual tone.
You bite your bottom lip aggressively, tired of the ambiguity behind his words. “That’s fine,” you retort. “I’ve got options.”
That’s when Jake turns to look at you with a troubled pair of eyes.
“Your words,” you remind him. “So, I took your advice.”
He narrows his eyes. “What advice would that be?”
“I told you someone asked out,” you say, setting the first of your funnel cakes down onto your tray.
“You said yes?” he gapes at you. “To a stranger?”
You watch him pensively for a moment. “You know, I think we’re going to need another tray,” you say, deciding to keep him in suspense for another minute.
Call it payback or something.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this installment of torturous pining. Don't forget to send in your ideas for these two in my ask box!
Hangman Tag List:
The rest of the list will be in the comments! Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.
Notes: This accidental behemoth is based on this post and part of the lil fic triptych with The Worst Best Man (Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader) @tropes-and-tales Team Prime (Bob Floyd x Reader)
No physical descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.
Length: 11.1K
Warnings: Slowburn (i know, shocker); angst (I know, shocker); fluff; happy ending!!
Summary: You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.
“Alright, what have we got, what have we gooooot…” Bradley asked, turning the steering wheel and guiding the Bronco onto the avenue.
“Let’s see,” You looked down your checklist. “Candy and labels for the favor bags?”
“Check.”
“Final payment for the florist.”
“Check.”
“Final payment for the cake.”
“Check.”
“Drop off the…Card-thingies for the seating placement at the venue.”
“Place cards?” Bradley chuckled.
“You knew what I meant. Only thing left is putting the favor bags together and we are set.”
“Hell yeah. Up top.”
You glanced over, smile widening when you spotted Bradley holding his hand up. You gave him a high five, chuckling as he crowed, “Boom! Dream team right here.”
You leaned back in your seat, shifting a little bit. Bradley was certainly the easiest person you’d had to work with over the course of this wedding—bride and groom included. You’d met him a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.
“Oh—Shit,” Bradley muttered.
“What is it?” You frowned.
“No, nothing. I need to grab my tux,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just remembered.”
“Oh,” You frowned, glancing back as he drove past the shop. “Do you wanna go now?”
“Uh…You sure?” He asked, raising his brows.
“Yeah! The rest of my day’s clear, I don’t mind.”
“You are a lifesaver,” Bradley swore, pulling his car into a parking spot. You waved him off, setting the checklist on the backseat of the car.
“Hang on,” He warned. You frowned, shaking your head, then smiled as he rounded the front of the car, opening the door for you.
“You’re such a gentleman, Bradshaw,” You teased.
“I try.”
He held the door open for you at the shop, too, and you tried not to get too flustered about it. But Bradley really was a gentleman. He’d shown you that repeatedly over the course of wedding prep, checking in periodically to see if you needed help with anything, or just to chat.
He gave his name at the desk, nodding and offering his thanks as the attendant left to get his suit.
“You get your dress yet?” He asked.
“Yep. Picked it up earlier in the week.”
“You are on it. I don’t know how you do it.”
You shrugged, trying to ignore the bubble of flattery rising in your gut. “This isn’t my first wedding.”
“How many times have you been a Maid of Honor?”
“This is the…fourth time?”
“Holy hell.”
“I kinda like it,” You chuckled. “It was stressful the first time but the fourth time around, it’s sort of old hat, you know.”
“Bradshaw?” The attendant called out, waving the two of you deeper into the shop. “If you’ll follow me? We just want to make sure the alterations are all set before we send it out with you.”
You trailed after him, tucking your hands into your pockets, and grinning as he gave you a little wink before ducking into the changing room. You sat down in one of the chairs nearby, scrolling through your phone and shooting a text to Katie, the bride. You frowned as your phone began to ring, and you tapped on Katie’s name, taking the call and raising it to your ear.
“Hey, lady. How are you doing?” You asked.
“I’m okay. Are you guys done, have you gotten everything?”
You tried not to groan at the panicked edge in her voice.
“We have the stuff for the favor bags, we dropped the checks off.”
“Are you putting the bags together today?”
“Not today, but they will be done,” You leaned into the word to stave off her argument, “Before the end of the week, and dropped off to the venue on Friday.”
“Promise?”
“You have my word. Take a deep breath.”
“That Katie?” Bradley called out from behind the curtain.
“Yeah!”
“Tell her we’ll get it done!”
“I did!” You laughed before adding, “Bradley says we’ll get it done, too. ‘Kay?”
“Fine,” She sighed before belatedly tacking on, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, hon.”
“Anytime. Bye.” You lowered your phone, looking down as you heard the curtain being pushed aside. You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of him. Your stomach flooded with butterflies at the sight. You bit your lip, gaze sweeping him from head to toe. You’d been to fittings with a few groomsmen in your day, but Bradley looked damn good. The suit fit him like a glove. You stood from where you’d settled down, tucking your phone away and stepping closer, folding your arms across your chest to fight off the urge to reach out and touch. Luckily for you, he hadn’t caught sight of your blatant interest as you hovered in his periphery. He was too busy double-checking his buttons.
“…It fits well,” You offered.
“Yeah?” He asked, glancing back at you. You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you nodded, allowing yourself to move a couple of steps closer.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“Wearing a suit feels a little weird,” He chuckled, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “But I guess it’s good practice.”
“Good practice?” You repeated, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“I’m getting married next year. Actually, all of this has been good practice. You’ve been a lot more helpful than you know.”
Your smile stayed frozen in place as your neck went hot, your blood roaring in your ears. It made sense. It made so much sense, and it had no right to hurt, to twist your insides up. You nodded, and dropped your gaze to his left hand, like you could spot where the ring would sit; you wondered what kind, what metal. Engraved? Plain? Gold? Silver? Bradley struck you as the type to have a plain outer band, and an engraving inside—some secret message, or initials, or the date that they met—the date of their wedding anniversary so that he’d never forget, but Bradley wasn’t the type to forget—
“You’re sure it looks alright?”
His question jolted you, made your smile twitch a touch wider out of panic, your eyes bright, attentive, and flickering to his face. Even with your newfound knowledge, your upset, your crushing disappointment—you couldn’t help the softening of your expression at his blatant nerves.
“Yes,” You nodded. “I’m sure.”
–
It was ridiculous, right?
It was ridiculous that it formed a knot in your chest. It was ridiculous that you were so rocked by the revelation that you couldn’t sleep. You needed to do something to get your mind off of what you’d learned; off of the sight of Bradley in that tux, bright and hopeful.
He’d told you all about his fiancé on the drive back to your place. That was sort of your fault. You had asked—but it had seemed rude not to, once you knew that there was someone in the picture. Bradley had told you all about Liz: how they met (she was a friend of his WSO’s), how long they’d been together (six months), how the proposal had gone (she’d been the one to plan it—from the ring, to where he proposed, to the photographer who photographed the occasion, to the party of friends and family that they went to afterward), how the wedding planning was going.
“It’s been a bit of whirlwind, planning-wise…Actually, the whole relationship has been,” He’d shrugged. “And our schedules are nuts. We kinda keep moving the goalposts.”
“On what?”
“…Well, when it’s gonna be, for one.”
His laughing admission had planted a little seed of hope in the nest of dismayed vipers making a home in your belly, but you wouldn’t allow it to take root. It was to be expected. Like he said, their schedules were nuts. But still…
When it’s gonna be.
It rose to the top of mind now and again as you worked on the favors through the night, putting custom labels on the bottles of wine, making sure each bag had a corkscrew, and tying a strip of white ribbon around the neck of the bottle.
When it’s gonna be.
Couldn’t they just elope, if they were so worried about that? Have a proper wedding later, when things were more settled, if it was causing them so much stress? You hadn’t brought that up, of course. It wasn’t any of your business.
When it’s gonna be.
You set the final bottle in the final bag, then dropped the corkscrew inside. You’d already put on the label, and the ribbon. You sighed heavily, looking around your living room. It was crowded with nearly two hundred completed favor bags. How the hell were you going to get them down to your car? Could you even fit all of these in your car? You groaned, leaning back against the couch and scrubbing your hands over your tired eyes.
Maybe you hadn’t only done the favors to keep your mind off of Bradley. Maybe you’d done it to avoid him, too, just a little. Getting them all done yourself meant that you didn’t have to spend an extra couple of hours with him. Sure, it would’ve gone faster with two, but if you wanted this crush to end with the wedding, you needed to start distancing yourself.
It wasn’t the kindest way to deal with the circumstances—and maybe your feelings would ebb, now that you knew there was absolutely no chance of acting on them.
Still, whatever happened, you’d gotten the favors done before the end of the week, as you’d promised Katie.
–
“When should I come by? I can bring pizza or something, we’ll get those favors knocked out before the party.”
It was a sweet offer, because Bradley was a sweet guy. You planted your elbow on your desk, plaintively eyeing your work email before looking around to see if any of your coworkers were listening in.
“Actually, I took care of them,” You admitted. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and you bit your lip, waiting for his answer.
“You—…All of them?” He finally asked.
“Mhm!” You forced the tone of your hum to be bright and chipper.
“That’s, like…That’s like two hundred bags.”
“One hundred and ninety-seven, but. Close!”
“I could’a helped you.”
You thought that he sounded disappointed, but surely you were reading into it.
“No, I know! I know. I got them done, it was no problem. I had time.”
There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and you found yourself wondering if he was distracted with whatever he was doing on the other end of the line.
“…How long did it take?” He asked.
“A bit? I don’t know. I didn’t time it. It was fine, I was awake.”
“You did them last night?”
“Yes! When else?” You laughed nervously. “Look, it’s seriously fine. They’re all set.”
“Are you alright?”
You sagged back in your office chair.
“Yeah,” You fibbed.
Another harrowing pause. Then—
“Alright.”
It sounded like a tired concession. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath, trying to lift the anxious weight moving to settle in your chest.
“I’ll need help bringing them to the venue,” You added.
“I can do that.”
You knew he could; you hadn’t doubted his willingness to help at any turn. You tipped your head into your hand, nodding a little bit.
“Sounds good, thank you.”
“You looking forward to the party tonight?”
No, you really weren’t. In your experience, joint bachelor/bachelorette parties were either hellishly boring, or nothing but trouble.
“Yeah!” You chirped. “It’s gonna be fun!”
–
Dinner had been nice. The first couple of rounds of drinks had also been nice. Moving to a club had felt like a bad idea, but there you were nonetheless, crammed between the bar and Bradley. You were trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his body behind yours and the scent of his cologne as you waited for your drinks. This was bad. This was sort of torture. You peered around your shoulder as you heard Katie shriek in excitement, and smiling as her fiance, Cory, leaned in to give her a kiss.
“They’re sweet.”
Bradley had to get close to say it—to speak it into your ear, over the sound of the music. He rested his hand on your hip, as if he had to hold and keep your attention, as if you wouldn’t know that he was talking to you. You managed a nod, your fingers flexing against the bar. You lowered your head, stomach twisting as the bartender pushed your drinks toward you. You reached out, passing Bradley’s drink back to him before you took hold of your own.
Bradley gave your hip a squeeze, steering you back toward the group. Oh—god. You closed your eyes tightly for a second before you turned to face Bradley. You pressed your drink toward his hand, forcing him to let go of you and take hold of it, and leaned in so that he could hear you.
“I’m going to get some air! I’ll be right back.”
You turned, squeezing through fellow clubbers before he could ask or argue. You gave the bouncer a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As you slid past him. You puffed softly as the sounds of the club dropped away. The air outside was warm; the breeze pushing over you almost smelled sweet compared to the stench of sweat and booze waiting for you back inside.
Ugh, god. You didn’t want to go back inside, but you knew you couldn’t get away with going home. Most of your stuff was inside, anyway—your phone, your wallet, your bag.
“Do you have a light?”
You glanced up at the question, giving the man asking a small shake of your head.
“No, sorry.”
“Eh. I’ll find one.” The man reached into his pocket, tapping out two cigarettes. “Want one?”
“I’m good, but thank you.”
He grunted, pushing the other one back into the pack before drawing one out and tucking it between his lips. He wandered away, and you leaned back against the outside of the club.
Maybe you could slide into the booth, grab your things, say goodbye to Katie and Cory, and just dip without him noticing—
“Sure you don’t want one?”
You looked up, nerves twisting as the man leaned close against the wall beside you. You shook your head, straightening up.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” You insisted, heading for the door.
“Hey, c’mon. You could at least keep me company,” The man argued, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you back toward him. Panic trickled through your veins as you tried to yank your wrist back, hissing, “Let go of me—”
“Hey!”
You hardly caught sight of Bradley before he was shoving the man harshly against the wall.
“The fuck, dude!” The smoker spluttered, dropping your wrist as he gave Bradley’s chest a shove in return.
“She said let go, asshole,” Bradley seethed, knocking the man’s hands away. Oh, fuck. You glanced nervously toward the bouncer and the people waiting on line as they took notice of the trouble brewing. Bradley could not get into shit on the weekend of the wedding—Katie would kill you both.
“He did, he let go! He let go,” You insisted, resting your hand on Bradley’s chest. When it didn’t nudge him back, you took hold of his hand, tugging him back with all your might and hardly budging him. “Let’s go!” You gave his arm another pull, pleading, “Bradley, please.”
It took another harrowing moment of contentious staring between the two before Bradley drew away, his tight, sharp gaze still set on the other man. You gripped his hand more tightly, raising your other hand to press against his shoulder.
“Let’s go back inside,” You urged. “Come on.”
It took another couple of pulls before Bradley acquiesced, trailing you back toward the bouncer. He hesitated at the door, eyes still set on the man before he allowed you to pull him in.
“Are you alright?” Were the first words out of his mouth.
“Are you crazy?” Were yours as you ripped your hand away from his. “What the hell were you thinking!”
Bradley looked stricken, brow knitting together.
“The hell did you expect me to do? He was all over you!”
“Why did you even follow me outside?”
“You practically ran out here, I thought something was wrong—and then I got out there and it was worse than I thought.”
You sighed heavily, turning away and shaking your head.
“Let’s just…Can we go back to the others?” You mumbled, turning from him. You heard him fall into step a couple of paces behind you, seeming to keep a measured distance as you made your way back to the rest of the wedding party. Once there, you embedded yourself deep into the corner with the bride and the other bridesmaids, forcing your smile wide and avoiding Bradley for the rest of the night.
–
It had been terrifying, having someone grab you—but the speed with which Bradley had come to your rescue was…Sort of hot? Sure, you could’ve gotten out of it yourself, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d gotten right up in that guy’s face—for you. You were certain that he would’ve done it for any of the other bridesmaids…Though you weren’t sure if he would’ve followed them outside…
No, he would’ve. Surely he would’ve. He was a good guy, it seemed like something he would do—
“Hey.”
He was nice, and sweet, and…Really, really attractive, god. The look on his face, the cords of his neck straining as he’d shoved the man, as he’d hissed, She said let go, asshole—
“Hey!”
You jumped at the feeling of Katie flicking the side of your head. The backseat of the uber was a tight squeeze with you, Karie, and Cory. You turned from looking out through the car window, smiling when you saw her watching you. Cozied into Cory’s side, she was peering at you with hazy blue eyes; her copper hair seemed dull under the glow of passing streetlights; her bride sash hung limply around her middle.
“What?” You chuckled.
“What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re being all…” She waved a finger at you. “You’re being weird. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“I heard Bradley tell Cory that someone grabbed you.”
Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced your expression to a neutral set.
“It was some drunk guy outside of the club,” You excused. “No big deal, you know. Nothing I’ve never dealt with.”
“You were all weird when you came back, too. All quiet.”
“It was loud in there, and I didn’t have much to say. I was vibing.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel her winding up for a question before she was distracted by the sound of Cory snoring behind her. You grinned as she shifted beside him, elbowing in the side with a hiss of, “Babe! Don’t snore, you’re gonna kill my uber rating!”
–
Loading the favor bags into Bradley’s Bronco was done in awkward silence. Neither of you said much, apart from, “Here,” and, “Thanks,” and, “I can grab that one.” Despite how carefully they were cushioned as you put them into the car, you found yourself looking into the backseat every few moments as you heard the bottles rattling from some bump in the road. You glanced at Bradley as you turned to look through the windshield again. You weren’t hungover, but you did have a growing headache.
“…Sorry I got snippy last night.”
It sort of pained you to say it, but you’d been repeating it in your head for the last two hours. You had to work your way up to saying it. You’d played with the phrasing, the tone, the pace, and it still felt stupid as it came out of your mouth. Before Bradley could say anything, you added, “I know you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that.”
Bradley still didn’t respond, and it took everything in your power to not turn and look at him, to see if he was even listening, or if he was rolling his eyes. But after a moment, he offered, “S’alright. I may’ve overreacted a little.”
“…I thought you were gonna slug the guy.” You were trying to tease him, but Bradley didn’t even miss a beat:
“I thought I was, too.”
You turned to look at him then, stunned. Bradley kept his focus on the road, his jaw clenched, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. You swallowed thickly, looking into the backseat again as the bottles rattled.
“Would you stop fussin’ over those?” He groaned. “They’re fine.”
“They better be. We don’t have any extras if they break.”
“Want me to slow the car to fifteen miles an hour?”
You could see him starting to smile in your periphery. Your stupid, crush-blind giddiness welled, feeling the tension in the car begin to break down.
“No…” You twisted back around in your seat, slumping petulantly. “Twenty will be fine.”
Bradley turned to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light, gazing at you over the top of his sunglasses.
“Twenty-three, final offer.”
“Sold.”
Bradley’s smile made your stomach flip, and you both turned to look through the windshield again as the light turned green.
–
The wedding was perfect. The reception was painful.
Liz seemed lovely, and for as kind as you were trying to be, your attempts were made even more difficult by your wealth of feeling for Bradley, and the adoring way that he curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips, her temple; the way he offered to get her a drink, or something to eat; the way his hand slid automatically to her hip, or her lower back; the way he hung on her every word.
You didn’t belabor it. When you spotted the two of them dancing together, her body cradled safely against his, you furiously pushed away your feelings of inadequacy and upset away in favor of looking at Katie and Cory. You relaxed at the sight of them—at the love in their eyes, the sureness there.
It reminded you that loving someone wasn’t supposed to hurt. So whatever it was that you felt for Bradley could be left behind, in that room. You needed it to be.
–
“You missed the bouquet toss.”
The sound of his voice made you shiver a little. Aw, hell. You’d only just managed to center yourself. Looking out over the moonlit ocean had calmed you, somewhat. But maybe whatever feelings you had for Bradley could be left…On the venue’s patio? But you glanced back, leaning against the railing and eyeing Bradley as he came closer.
“I’m alright with that. The last time I was in the middle of one of those, I almost got socked in the face.”
“Yeesh,” Bradley muttered.
“Yeah, bouquet tosses are no joke.”
He rested his arms against the wide railing beside you, looking out over the water. The two of you stood in calm silence for a while.
“So when’s your next Maid of Honor gig?”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Hopefully not for a while. I think I need a break from the wedding circuit.”
“You say circuit or circus?”
“Bit of column A, bit of column B.”
Bradley chuckled.
“Well, whenever it is, if you need a hand, you let me know.”
“Even if you’re not involved in the wedding?”
“Sure. This was honestly kinda fun. And it’s ‘cause I did it with you.”
The butterflies in your chest whirled restlessly as you felt Bradley look at you. You forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head.
“I wouldn’t foist wedding duties on you if you weren’t part of the wedding, Bradley. That would be mean. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“…Could I pick your brain about wedding stuff, sometime?” He hedged. “You know, as Liz and I get closer to ours?”
You could say no. You could remind him of what you said, of the fact that you were getting off of the wedding circuit once this wedding was up. You could stick to your conviction that as the necessity for your proximity passed, you’d keep your distance from him—
“Of course you can,” You nodded, turning to look at him. His sweet smile and the full weight of his gaze and focus were enough to crack you in two.
“Dream team?” He asked, holding his hand up for a high five. You nodded, giving him a quick high five before you curled your arms around yourself.
“Dream team.”
–
It had been a mistake to reopen the lines of communication. You’d made the decision while tipsy, sending him an innocent, innocuous message. You hadn’t even expected a response—but he’d gotten back to you within minutes. You could’ve cut the communication dead there, but you’d found yourself grappling for connection, for the feeling of being wanted. You knew you’d get it from your ex, for better or for worse, and you needed something to drown the rotting buds of affection that you still felt blooming for Bradley.
You hadn’t seen Bradley since the wedding, but the two of you had kept in touch. When he’d started calling you, most of the conversation had been around his wedding prep, but it hadn’t stayed that way. The two of you always managed to get off-topic—to ask and talk about one another’s lives, your days, your work. After the first couple of months, he seemed to drop the wedding chat entirely, just calling to talk. When you did try to steer it back in that direction—to a venue, or a time of year, or flowers—he managed to talk his way out of it. And you could’ve pried, but you let him avoid the topic. You were happy not to hear about Liz. Whenever your phone buzzed and his name appeared, your heart made a sharp leap from your chest to your throat. You craved the sound of his voice, missed the sight of his smile, reveled in his teasing and laughter.
So sure, starting a conversation with your ex, Ryan, had been sort of stupid. But it felt smarter than allowing your crush for an engaged man to completely cloud your judgement.
–
“Are you going to Cory and Katie’s for brunch this weekend?”
“Is that this weekend?” You groaned, tipping your head back. “Fuck, I forgot.”
“I thought you would’ve been on top of that! You were so on top of things for the wedding.”
“Well, that was different. That was way more involved.”
“Hey, brunch can be pretty damn involved.”
“You speaking from experience, Bradshaw?”
“I have faced some terrifying situations, but the worst of which was a bottomless brunch when they ran out of prosecco.”
You rolled your eyes, shifting in your office chair and stifling a snort.
“You’re such a weirdo.”
“So am I gonna see you?”
Am I gonna see you.
Not are we going to see you—because presumably Liz would be there, too. A few months ago, Bradley had mentioned wanting to bring her more into the fold, into his group of friends. Most of his friends knew Cory and Katie; most of them would probably be at brunch.
“Uh…” You eyed your calendar. “Maybe?”
“You too busy for me now?”
“For you?” You scoffed a laugh. “This isn’t your brunch, mister.”
“No, I know. That’s not what I mean, it just…”
Bradley trailed off on the other end of the phone, and you frowned, shaking your head.
“‘It just’, what?”
“It’s been a while since the wedding. It’d be nice to see you.”
“It’d be nice to see you, too.” The admission felt dangerous, but it was too late to draw back in—and it was mutual. You wouldn’t have dared say it to him if he hadn’t said it first.
“So come by,” He urged. “At least for a bit.”
–
For a bit. You could make it a short stop.
“We’ll be fast,” You swore. “Like, a hello and a bellini and then we are out of there.”
“Why are we going if you don’t even want to stay long?”
It was a valid question, but it made you bristle a bit. It was clear that Ryan wasn’t excited to go. Well, he’d never gotten along with your friends, anyway. He’d had a feeling that they didn’t like him—and he had been right. You hadn’t told anyone that the two of you were seeing one another again, and maybe it was unfair to ambush them like this, but you didn’t think you could be around Bradley and Liz—around their cooing and teasing and sweetness—without something or someone to distract you from the reality of the situation.
“You want me to drop you off somewhere?” You asked. “I can. I can drop you off and pick you up when I’m done.”
“I’m only meant—”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go.”
“I never said I didn’t wanna go.”
“You’re acting like it.”
“You’re the one saying we don’t have to say long!” He scoffed. “Can we park and get in there?”
You puffed your cheeks out and pushed out a breath, shaking your head a little bit. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should turn around and head home—
But your heart leapt at the sight of Bradley’s Bronco parked a few cars back from Katie and Cory’s, and you knew you wouldn’t turn around.
Quick in, quick out. One bellini, maybe half of a bagel, a warning that you had other plans and couldn’t stick around long. Ask Katie how the honeymoon was, tell Cory to call you when they needed to plan the baby shower, maybe high five Bradley, and then you’d dip.
“We always hang out with my friends,” Ryan grumbled as you parked.
“Why is that even something you’d complain about?”
“Because you hide me from yours.”
You put the car in park, stomach churning guiltily as you met his eye.
“You don’t like my friends,” You reminded him.
“I’m willing to try, but they need to be, too.”
“…Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll talk to them about it. Not now, but like. I’ll talk to them about it.”
“Thank you.”
You sighed softly, reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Ryan tipped his head back against the rest, slightly mussing his ash blond hair. “I don’t get why you’re so freaked about this brunch thing. It’s, like. Supposed to be chill, right?”
“It is. It is, it’s gonna be a lot of people, their apartment is pretty small. You know how I get when it’s loud and crowded, and…Overloads me.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, glancing toward the building.
“Let’s get you in and out, then,” He offered. “And then we can get me in and out.” He waggled his brows, and you huffed, drawing your hand out of his and getting out of the car.
Ryan took hold of your hand again once the two of you were on the sidewalk, trailing you as you led him to the door of the apartment building. You could hear music and chatter coming from Katie and Cory’s. You drew in a deep breath before you raised your hand, knocking on the door. It was a moment before it opened, and as soon as it did, your heart stuttered in your chest.
Your attraction to Bradley had never faded like it was supposed to. You had worked at it. You’d reminded yourself of the pros and cons, beaten yourself over the head with the fact that he was with someone, in a committed relationship. You had pushed yourself back into Ryan’s arms because, for a time, you had felt wanted by him. Things had never been perfect between you. You butted heads, and you tended to not want to budge on your arguments. You were quick to anger with one another, with each little nitpick reopening the old wounds. Your relationship had been on-again off-again for a couple of years, with each period of on-again falling into the same patterns that had led to the two of you splitting up in the first place.
This latest stint with Ryan had only been exacerbated by your frequent conversations with and interest in another man. Every conversation, every touch, hold, kiss, conversation, had been haunted with the idea of Bradley lingering in your periphery.
“Hey!” Bradley grinned. He reached out, drawing you in without a second’s thought or hesitation.
You leaned into him, curling your arm around his middle and patting his back. You held for as long as was appropriate, and not nearly as long as you’d like; the scent of him threatened to draw you back in. You would’ve embraced him fully if Ryan wasn’t still holding your other hand.
“I can’t believe you made it—Katie literally just told me there was no way you were showing up,” He added, leaning back to get a better look at you.
“Yeah, well,” You smiled weakly. “We can’t stay too long, but we wanted to drop in and see everyone.”
Your repeated use of we seemed to jolt Bradley. His gaze dropped to your other hand, then swept up Ryan’s arm to take in his face.
“Bradley, this is Ryan,” You added, stepping back to allow Ryan to come into the apartment fully. “Ryan, Bradley. Bradley was the Best Man at Katie and Cory’s wedding.”
“Aw, yeah, I’ve seen pictures from the day-of,” Ryan held his hand out, giving Bradley’s a shake. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Bradley nodded.
“Where’s Liz!” You tacked on, glancing around. A look that you didn’t recognize flashed across Bradley’s face, but it was gone in a blink.
“Ah, she, uh…She couldn’t make it.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” You frowned—and you tried to mean it.
“It’s alright. Come on, come in,” Bradley added, waving you inside. “Sorry, I shouldn’t stall you guys in the doorway.”
“It’s okay,” You laughed, looking around before glancing back at Ryan. “Let’s see if we can go find the newlyweds.” You glanced up at Bradley, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you around.”
It felt wrong to say—it felt worse when you saw Bradley’s expression falter a touch. But you were already turning away from him and heading for a group of a few of your friends. You saw the flash of their horror and confusion before they pushed smiles onto their faces, squealing, “Hey!” as a group.
“Hi!” You smiled back, giving Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. You leaned into each of them, kissing their cheeks before leaning back. Katie hardly leaned into you; her gaze was still set on your ex.
“Y’all remember Ryan,” You asked, waving back toward him. It garnered nods and murmurs of agreement.
“Nice to see you,” He offered before he leaned in a little. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You want one?”
“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.”
Before you could blink, Ryan ducked in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, warm kiss. He didn’t overdo it, or make it pointedly salacious for the sake of your friends, like he may have in the past. Now, he gave your lower back a pat and turned, heading away from you, and leaving your little group in a pointed silence. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. You stared at Katie’s glass and warned them:
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
It forced them off of the topic, and onto a new subject: Katie and Cory’s honeymoon in Ibiza. You found yourself half-listening; the other ear was unwittingly searching out the sound of Bradley’s voice in your periphery. You caught on it now and again for a syllable or two, and your head would twitch in his direction. It was impossible for you not to. As badly as you wanted to go to him—to soak up his smiles and his warm, kind eyes—you rooted yourself with your friends, averting your gaze from their nervous and judgemental glances.
But when the conversation shifted again—when your ear caught on Ella’s comment of, “—A shame about Bradley and Liz, isn’t it?” Your head snapped to them.
“I know,” Katie sighed, shaking her head, “He’s such a good guy.”
“What happened?” You frowned, shaking your head. The others glanced around conspiratorially before they leaned in a little more.
“Apparently,” Katie leaned into it, “He and Liz, like…Imploded. She said it was taking them too long to get the wedding together, he said that it would take as long as they needed—”
“Neither of them would budge,” Ella shrugged. “Apparently she eloped with some guy she met, like, the week after they split.”
“Oh, my god,” You breathed. The news twisted you all up; you didn’t know how it was possible that someone could do that to Bradley.
“Honestly, I don’t think she really even wanted to be married to him,” Cassie offered. “I think she just wanted to be married.”
You found yourself twisting around to try and catch sight of Bradley then—like you could see some visible sign of the change, the distress; like the ring you’d come to imagine sitting on his finger had disappeared.
And then Ryan rested a hand on your lower back and pressed a bellini into your hand, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over your head.
Bradley hadn’t said a thing to you. You had been asking about Liz for months. You had questioned their plans: their honeymoon arrangements, their colors, their venue options; you’d offered to get him in touch with coordinators, with florists, and DJs and caterers and bakers and goddamnit, why hadn’t he told you?
Why hadn’t he at least feigned that the wedding was on hold? That they were regrouping, or restrategizing, or asked you to change the topic, or to just shut the hell up about it? Had he not wanted you to know? Was it a matter of his loss, his pride?
Finally catching sight of him across the room, you found him with a gaggle of guys. He had a glass in his hand, and a smile on his face as he laughed—the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and his chin tip up with the force of it. You saw his head turn toward you a touch, and you hurriedly averted your gaze, raising your glass to your lips and taking a deep draw from your glass. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. The alcohol seemed to burn and bubble as it dropped into your belly.
“Hon, are you okay?” Ella asked, frowning at you. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”
“Uh…No, you know what, I actually, um,” You cleared your throat. “I’m not feeling well. I think we should get going, actually, we’ve got some other things that we need to, um…” You cleared your throat, glancing back toward Ryan. He looked as confused as your friends. Maybe he figured the two of you would stay for more than five minutes. You were a flurry of apology as you pecked their cheeks, grabbing Ryan’s hand and half-dragging him out of the apartment.
“They say something about me?” He asked tiredly as the two of you left.
“No,” You shook your head, climbing into the car. “No, it really—I really do feel like shit right now.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest; the blood was roaring in your ears; your head was spinning. You stuck the key into the ignition before you leaned back to put your seatbelt on, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down.
“If you feel so shitty, you probably shouldn’t be driving,” Ryan grumbled.
“I can handle it.”
“You could’ve at least waited for me to get something to eat—”
“Oh my god,” You groaned. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed a bagel while you were already in the kitchen, then.”
“You said you wanted a drink.”
“You offered to get me one!”
You turned to the car, turning the key in the ignition before glancing at Ryan, doing a double take and waving at his chest.
“…What?” He asked.
“Would you put your fricking seatbelt on, please?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” You insisted. “God forbid something happen, I don’t want you flying through the fucking windshield—”
“You know what?” Ryan reached out, opening the door. “I’m gonna walk.”
“You’re gonna walk?” You scoffed. “You’re really gonna fucking—”
You winced as he slammed the door shut. You shook your head, glancing into the rear view. Fucking fine. If he wanted to walk, he could fucking walk. You glanced to the side mirrors and checked your blindspot before flooring it out of the spot and peeling down the block. You glanced down as you heard your phone buzz, certain you would have a text from Ryan, asking you to pick him up at the corner.
Instead, you spotted Bradley’s name. You found yourself pitching your phone into the passenger side footwell on instinct as you turned back to the road.
He hadn’t even thought about pulling you in when he saw you. He’d drawn you into his arms, completely disregarding Ryan—so much so that he seemed surprised when you pointed Ryan out. He’d acted like you were the only person there.
You pressed your elbow against the door, resting your head on your head.
Six months. You had been asking Bradley (or trying to ask Bradley) about the wedding for the last six months. He had played along. You felt stupid, embarrassed.
And goddamnit, you felt hopeful.
–
When you finally got home and retrieved your phone from the car footwell, you had three texts and five missed calls.
Three of the missed calls were from Ryan, as well as one of the texts—a request to sit down and hash out whatever the hell happened at the party. Another was from Katie (Bitch, you got a lot of explaining to do with a gif of Ricky Ricardo waggling his finger). You saw the missed calls and texts from Bradley last:
BB (#DreamTeam)
Sorry I missed you on your way out
As if it was his fault.
Well, then again, it sort of was.
You eyed the last time he called; it had been a few minutes ago. You huffed softly, considering your options. You shot a text over to Ryan agreeing to meet first. You knew that delaying your response in favor of calling Bradley would send your guilt through the roof. Then, you hesitantly tapped on Bradley’s name, putting the phone on speaker. You glanced around, sighing and leaning back in the driver’s seat as the ringtone brrrr’d in the absence of his response. It was one ring away from going voicemail when you heard him pick up.
“Hello?” He answered.
“Hey. Sorry, I was driving, I didn’t, uh—I didn’t see that you called.”
“That’s okay.”
You nodded a little before you paused, brows raising a touch.
“So what’s up?” You finally pressed.
“Seemed like you left in a hurry. I turned around and you were just gone.”
“Something came up.”
“Katie said you weren’t feeling well.”
Snitch.
“I wasn’t.”
“Feeling better now?” Bradley pried, and before you could even think of your answer, “Wanna go grab a drink, or…Dinner, something?”
You tipped your head back against the rest, closing your eyes. No. No. That was an awful idea. You needed to get together with Ryan as soon as possible, to get your shit together, to work out whatever you needed to work out—
–
“You been here before?” You asked.
“Uh—”
“Hey, Rooster!”
Your brows raised as he raised a hand, waving at a woman not too far off. He turned a bashful smile toward you as he lowered his hand, folding his arms on the bar.
“It’s near the base, so it’s pretty popular with people in the service.”
“It’s nice in here,” You nodded, looking around.
“Nicer than Katie’s?”
He didn’t bother trying to be subtle, leaning into the question. You slowly turned to face forward again, casting the bartender a smile and a thanks as she set your drinks down. Bradley waited until she drifted away before he added,
“You ran out of there like you were on fire.”
“Thought you turned around I was just gone,” You reminded him, raising your brows. Bradley’s eyes skated across your face.
“Saw you out of the corner of my eye,” He admitted.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I’ve seen you ditch out of somewhere before.”
You turned from him, taking up your beer.
“You need someone to sock that guy, I’m your first call,” Bradley added, and you couldn’t help but smile ruefully as you shook your head.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“Katie said he doesn’t treat you right.”
“The way Liz treated you?”
It fell out of your mouth before you can stop it. You watched Bradley’s expression harden, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed around the bottle in front of him. He didn’t hold your gaze. As bad as you felt for mentioning it, you couldn’t have it over your head anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You plied when he gave no answer. “I asked about that shit for months, like a fricking idiot.”
“You weren’t an idiot. You didn’t know.”
“Exactly my point! Why didn’t you at least pretend you had postponed it or something?”
“I didn’t wanna talk about it. I still don’t.”
“Then why’d you invite me out?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about that, not that I didn’t want to talk at all.”
You both turned back to your drinks, gaze set contentiously on them.
“…I take it Katie told you about Ryan?” You hedged.
“A bit, yeah.”
“What’d she say?”
“That he’s a dick who won’t compromise.”
“Yeah, well,” You shifted on your bar stool. “I don’t exactly have a gold medal in that, either when it comes to him.”
“Just him?”
You considered for a moment, tipping your chin up and eyeing the opposite wall.
“We butt heads, we always have. It always starts out pretty well, and then…I don’t know. Little things start to break down, little communication errors or fights and they get bigger and bigger, and,” You raised a hand, mimicking an explosion. “He was peeved when we went to Katie’s, thought I pulled him out of there because they said something to me about him. I mean, they would’ve, probably. And they clearly said something to you.”
“She said she had no idea how you even linked back up.”
“I texted him a kitty picture.”
You saw Bradley frown out of the corner of your eye, his mouth working wordlessly as he seemed to grapple with something. It clicked, and you groaned, “No, an actual cat, you—” You reached out, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you dissolved into laughter, “You perv.”
–
You don’t let Bradley right back in, and you don’t show Ryan right out, either. Where your friendship with Bradley had been middling, your reopened channels of communication were slowly bringing it back to life. Where your relationship with Ryan had been waning, you gave it another shot in earnest.
–
“So when do I get to meet him?” Bradley asked.
“You already met him,” You chuckled.
“Not properly. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him.”
“You want to?”
Bradley leaned back in his seat a little. You could feel his gaze sweeping you, even as you poked at your dinner.
“You don’t want me to?” He batted back. You shrugged.
“I have no problem with it. Kinda surprised, considering what Katie’s told you about him.”
“I like to draw my own conclusions. ‘Sides, if you’re with him, he can’t be all that bad.”
“Your opinion of me is way too high, Bradshaw.”
“Your opinion of yourself isn’t high enough.”
Your stomach flipped at his insistence, and you raised your drink to swallow your arguments.
“Gonna have to meet him soon,” He added.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m goin’ away.”
He said it so casually, so easily, like it wouldn’t hit you below the belt and ruin your appetite. You carefully lowered your glass back to the table.
“When?” You asked as lightly as you could manage.
“Next week.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“At least a couple of months.”
You nodded a little, belly squirming with nerves. It was a wholly irrational response. You knew very well what Bradley did. You just hadn’t come into contact with the reality of it before.
“So?” He leaned against the table. “When can I meet him?”
“…I don’t know, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know when he’s, um…” Your brain was scrambled all of the sudden. It was like it was being overtaken with the knowledge of Bradley’s leaving, the possibilities. “I’ll ask.”
“I’ll pencil it in.”
“Am I gonna see you before I leave?”
“With Ryan?”
“I mean if he can’t make it.”
You give Bradley a guarded gaze from beneath your eyelids, smiling as you see him nodding.
“Course you’re gonna. Dream team, remember?”
–
“Think your guy can pencil me in for when I’m back?”
You grimaced at his question. Bradley had been gone for almost a month, and asking that question for nearly just as long. Your phone time had only increased with his being so far away; you got a call from him every other day, if not every day. You shifted on your couch, eyeing your tv boredly.
“Be kinda weird for you to hang out with a guy I’m not with anymore, but yeah, I’m sure we could work something out.”
There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone before he asked, “When’d that happen?“
"Yesterday.”
“And what happened there?”
“We were not, uh…” You shook your head. “Ultimately, we weren’t compatible. I think that’s the nice way to say it.”
“What’s the mean way?”
“He’s a fucking dumbass.”
“Makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Sure. Anyone who can’t make it work with you—there’s gotta be something wrong with ‘em.”
You tipped your head back against your couch, your feet kicking with childish excitement. Ugh, goddamnit, he always seemed to know the right thing to say.
“Anyway,” You pushed on as you settled back down. “I can still set you up with Ryan.”
“No thank you.”
“Gee, why not?”
“He’s not really my type. Sounds like he’d be Liz’s, though.”
You smiled a little ruefully, hand scrubbing over the side of your neck. It had taken some time, but Bradley had finally opened up to you about what had gone wrong. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, he’d sworn. It was just that they were in different places, ready (or not ready) for different things. He’d gradually gone from not giving a damn what she’d gotten up to without him to wishing her well. You couldn’t imagine feeling the same good will toward Ryan.
“Doesn’t seem like she needs a fix up,” You quipped.
“She certainly does not.”
“Mm. How’s it going over there?”
“It’s been alright. Tiring,” Bradley admitted. “We’ve moved on to parameter-specific runs, and it’s, uh…It’s gonna be a hard one.”
You bit your lip. You weren’t sure what to say that he surely hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Tell him that he would be fine? Beg him to come home safely?
You hadn’t been able to spend time alone with Bradley before he’d left. Katie had wound up having a small dinner at her place—something for friends, something more casual. You couldn’t bring yourself to selfishly break off another bit of his time, and you’d soaked up all of him that you could while you were there. When the party had ended, you’d trailed him back to the Bronco. Your conversation had gone on and on outside of it, and then inside when you couldn’t bring yourself to stand still. Even then, practically facing one another in the front seat of his car, you’d found yourself feeling antsy. You’d wanted to tell him something beyond the fact that you would miss him. You wanted to tell him that you were worried about him; you wanted to somehow let him know that the news of his sudden departure had kept you up for the better part of a week; you wanted to know if he would be thinking of you, too; you wanted to reach out and touch—his hand, his arm, his cheek, something.
But you’d kept to your side of the car, bottled your protests and worries, and resolutely tried to ignore the way your heart leapt in your throat whenever his knee nearly brushed yours.
Now, the clarity of distance told you that you’d done the right thing. Laying some confession of interest or a kiss on him would’ve clouded the lines of communication that you had open now—lines that you weren’t willing to jeopardize.
“You’ll get it,” You finally said, “Whatever it is.”
“I’d tell you more, but—”
“No, that’s alright. I think that would just make me more worried, anyway.”
“You worry about me?”
Crap. You slid down in your seat, pressing your head back against the cushion.
“Course I do,” You admitted quietly, as if he could lose the sound of you over the phone—as if your mumbled confirmation wouldn’t be chased or leaned into.
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh, well, thank you for that absolution. I was only worrying for fun.”
“C’mon,” Bradley chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” You grumbled.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s nice? You enjoy making me worry? That’s just cruel, Bradshaw.”
“Swear to god, when I get back, I’m gonna—”
“What?” You goaded, heart ticking up in your chest. “What are you gonna do?”
Maybe it was a step too far. Bradley went quiet on the other end of the phone. Your mouth went dry as you waited with nervous anticipation. And then you registered the yell of someone on the other end of the phone, the use of his callsign.
“Shit,” He muttered, then, louder: “I gotta go.”
“Okay,” You nodded. It was better that he couldn’t see the nod, or the way panic washed across your face. “Be careful.”
He didn’t need to be told that, but you couldn’t help the plea.
“I will,” He swore. And then he was gone. You lowered your phone, watching as BB (#DreamTeam) flickered away, leaving your lock screen. Gonna what? What the hell was he gonna do when he got back?
Then again, you weren’t sure you cared what it was, so long as he did get back.
–
“Did I wake you up?”
“No!” You leaned over, turning your lamp on and pushing yourself to sit up, your phone clutched in your hand. You knew that the first thing you’d said to him, your groggy little opening gambit of, “Whazzit?” had probably given the game away, but hell, he’d asked.
You’d hardly heard from Bradley for the last few weeks. You hadn’t reached out. You hadn’t wanted to bother or distract him from his task. But on the late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you found yourself wondering if Bradley hadn’t contacted you because he couldn’t—because something had gone wrong. You’d found yourself constantly checking your phone, keeping it on the edge of your periphery on the off-chance he called or texted.
“You lying to me?” He added. At least he sounded a little amused by the prospect. You scrubbed your hand across your eyes. Damnit.
“…A little bit,” You mumbled.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Nooo,” You whined, kicking your feet petulantly beneath your sheets. “Talk to me.”
“You laying down?”
“…I was.”
“Lay back down.”
The order felt a little salacious, but you were sure he meant nothing by it. Still, you slid down as he said, tipping your sleep-heavy head back against the pillows.
“Talk to me,” You urged again. “Please?”
“You should’ve let me go to voicemail.”
“I said talk, not argue.”
“Now who’s arguing?”
You smiled, letting your eyes close.
“‘M not arguing. Making a point isn’t arguing.”
“It is when you use that tone.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His reassurance made you melt into the mattress a little more.
“Good,” You mumbled. “I was afraid you weren’t.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Now you’re arguing again,” He chuckled. “You always this combative when you wake up?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“…Yeah, I would.”
For a moment, you were certain you imagined him saying it, or that you’d managed to mishear him in his hazy state.
“You could, you know,” You finally offered.
“Oh yeah? How would I do that?”
His voice was different than you were used to—low and soothing, and curled with a wink that you longed to see.
“How do you think?”
“Could always call you in the middle of the night again.”
You pushed a sleepy, ugly giggle, then slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized that the sound escaped you. Bradley laughed quietly on the other end.
“If that’s the route you wanna go, Bradshaw.”
“I am sorry,” He added. “I forgot what time it was over there.”
“S’okay, I don’t mind. I missed your voice.”
God, being tired made you far more loose-lipped than you typically were. You were already penciling in a reminder to be mortified about this conversation in the morning. But it was chased and erased by Bradley’s gentle,
“I missed yours, too.”
Your stomach squirmed at the sentiment, a goofy smile spreading across your face.
“Even when it sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel?” You teased.
“You don’t sound like that.”
It took you a few moments to answer. As badly as you wanted to stay awake, you could feel sleep sinking its claws into you, drawing you back down.
“No? Feels like I do.”
“You don’t. You might if you stay up talking to me, though.”
“Worth it,” You insisted. You didn’t know if he took longer to answer, or if it took longer to register with you. But his voice finally worked through:
“Go back to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Mmmkay,” You finally relented. “Get home safe, please.”
“I will.”
–
In the morning, you were far less embarrassed than you thought you would be. Sure, there were still things that you sort of wish that you hadn’t said, but they were clouded out by other things—like the way Bradley had reassured you that you didn’t sound like hell, and the fact that he’d missed your voice in the first place.
Still, all of those things were stomped out by one thing that you were almost certain had been a figment of your sleep-addled mind, something that you wanted desperately to be real, but would never bring yourself to ask Bradley about—
The sound of his warm, tender little murmur right before you’d drifted off entirely:
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
You spent the morning stewing over whether or not you’d really heard Bradley say that, or if you’d conjured it up. Maybe it was something that you simply wanted so badly that you had imagined it.
Your eyes kept darting to your phone during work, your heart leaping into your throat every time the screen lit up. It was usually some app alert. Every time you perked up at the sight of it only to be let down, you felt silly. It was another entire day of ebbing excitement and rising disappointment, raising your hopes for absolutely nothing. By the time you left your office, you’d exhausted yourself. You were being ridiculous. Sure, he’d said he’d see you soon, but that was probably relative to—
“Did you manage to fall back asleep? Or did you stop talking because you were bored with me?”
Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open at the sight of him outside your office building. You didn’t even think as you darted toward him, barrelling into him. Bradley took hold of you as though you hadn’t run into him with any force. He held firm, curling his arms around your shoulders as you clung to him. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. He smoothed his hand over your back as you grappled with it all—the feel of him; the scent of his cologne and aftershave; the fact that you could see him, touch him, prove to yourself that he was okay.
When you finally managed to talk yourself into loosening your grasp, you drew back a little, your bashful embarrassment bubbling up and trying to overtake the joy that you felt. Bradley simply smiled, cupping your cheek in a way that made your heart sing.
“Hi there,” He murmured.
“Hi,” You laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”
“S’alright,” He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”
“When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant so soon.”
“I know. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, mission accomplished.”
His thumb swept gently over the apple of your cheek, his smile pulling wide to match yours.
“When did you get back?” You asked.
“Couple of hours ago.”
And he was there, with you? Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“A little.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“What do you want?”
Bradley’s tongue swept across his lips, his eyes skimming your face for a moment. Then, seeming to rethink something, he shrugged.
“Whatever you’ve got.”
–
Technically you didn’t have much, but Bradley didn’t gripe about ordering in pizza. Hell, when you suggested it, he let out a groan that rattled right through you before emphatically agreeing:
“Fuck yes. Please.”
The way he said it stuck with you for entirely the wrong reason, and you found yourself almost studiously perusing a delivery app for the best option to keep him from clocking your aroused embarrassment. You didn’t have a dining room table, so the two of you wound up eating side by side, close, with some nonsense tv show that neither of you were really paying attention to playing in the background. When you asked about how it had gone, as delicately as possible, he shrugged.
“I won’t pretend it was the worst mission I’ve ever flown,” He said. “But I’m going to pretend that it was the best, either.”
He didn’t go into specifics, but that was alright. You still weren’t quite certain that you wanted him to. The less you knew, the better. Besides, it didn’t matter, anyway. He was there, safe, with you.
“Well,” You leaned back, on your couch, dusting the crumbs off of your fingers. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Mm,” He nodded, pushing his plate away before he looked around. You raised your brows as he lowered his hand to the cushions, giving them a squeeze.
“So,” He smiled, “This where you usually call me from?”
“Usually.”
“Even last night?”
“Last night was a bit of an exception. I think we both know that.”
“Where were you?”
You nodded toward the hall. “My room. That’s where I gargle gravel.”
“I told you you didn’t sound bad,” Bradley laughed.
“Yeah, you did, and I still don’t believe you.”
Bradley shook his head a little. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand sliding across the cushion, a little closer to you.
“You sounded good,” He insisted.
“Good might be stretching it.”
“Good’s the tip of the iceberg.”
Your tummy fluttered at the feeling of his fingertips tenderly skating over the back of your hand. Your fingers wriggled, like it would entice him to touch you more—like if you didn’t move, didn’t react, he’d pull away or stop. Bradley lowered his gaze to your hands, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt him gently turn yours, his calloused fingertips skating across your palm.
“…Bradley?”
“Mhm?”
“This may be an incredibly dumb question—”
“Doubt it.”
“Wh—” You laughed nervously before you could finish the question. “Why did you…I mean, you just got back. Why’d you come see me?”
“Because I missed you.” He took hold of your hand, his thumb sweeping along the side. “I needed to see you.”
The word makes your pulse quicken, and you blink a few times to try and clear your swimming head.
“…Needed?” You repeated dazedly. Bradley nodded, lifting his head to meet your eye.
“Needed, sweetheart.”
The way he said it was so soft, and warm, and so perfectly familiar that you could’ve cried. But Bradley was already cradling your cheek, already drawing you close and leaning in to meet you halfway. You raised your other hand, cupping the side of his neck as your lips met for the first time. Your eyes closed as you savored the tender slip and press of his kiss. The mustache was a little bristly, but hardly as intrusive as you thought it may be. The slight tickle of it made you smile.
Bradley drew back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw before he pressed his face into your neck.
“Goddamn,” He mumbled, voice rumbling against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“You have?” You asked, sliding your hand up into his hair.
“Longer than I should’ve been.”
You bit your lip, resting your head against his.
“If it makes you feel any better, so have I.”
He pressed a sweet kiss to the crook of your neck before sweeping his lips over your neck and jaw, up to your ear.
“It does.”
You shivered at the caress of his breath. You turned your head shyly, nuzzling the tip of his nose with yours before tipping your chin up, giving him another gentle kiss. Bradley sighed into you, his grip in your hand tightening as you shifted closer to him. You hummed softly as he leaned back, resting his forehead against yours, chasing his lips for another peck.
“Before I completely monopolize your time, is there anything else that you planned on doing tonight?” You asked. Bradley chuckled, shaking his head.
“I did want to do one thing.”
You tried not to let your disappointment show as you, just nodded.
“What’s that?”
“See how combative you are when you wake up.”
You grinned wide, raising your hand and curling it in his collar, drawing him closer.
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
