I would like to put in a request for Bradley and a fluffy one if that's okay?
It's the reader's birthday but he's away from home and she celebrates it alone by herself. However, she gets a message from Maverick saying he's injured where they're all planning a surprise birthday party 😁 🎉🥳
Thank you 😊
birthday surprises (b.b)
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
Word count: 2.5k
CW: Little bit of angst at the beginning, use of Y/N
A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! Is it your birthday? If so, happy birthday! Even if it isn't, I still hope you enjoy 🤍. Love this idea!
You’d never been one for birthdays.
Or so you told yourself and your boyfriend, Bradley, over and over again.
You’d thought that maybe if you told yourself this enough times, you’d start to believe it. He’d missed many special occasions while being deployed across the world, but it always hurt more on your birthday, feeling almost personal. Of course, deep down you knew that it wasn’t and that it upset Bradley to miss things more than it hurt you, but knowing this didn’t change anything. And the worst part? You couldn’t tell him or show that you were upset in any way, because you’d known what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date.
There wasn’t a single, tiny part of you that regretted choosing Bradley to be your person. In fact, you believed that choice hadn’t even factored into it. He was the sun, and you were a planet orbiting him, held by his gravity and his warmth. Right now, everything felt a little colder without him.
You stood in the kitchen with your arms crossed, trying to remember why you’d gone in there. You’d treated yourself to a long cry in the shower earlier that morning, you know, since it was your birthday and you thought you deserved a little treat. Why not change it up a bit instead of bottling it up or crying in bed? But now your brain was shrouded in thick fog, and you struggled to find the motivation to do anything.
The doorbell rang, startling you out of your stupor. You almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to answer it, which wasn’t new. When your partner was in the military, your heart tended to drop every time the phone or doorbell rang, especially when he was deployed thousands of miles away.
Thankfully, when you opened the door, there was nobody in military dress waiting to greet you with a forlorn expression. It was a flower delivery guy with the hugest bouquet of sunflowers you’d ever seen in your life.
‘Y/N Y/LN?’ He asked, face obscured by the impressive arrangement.
‘That’s me,’ you replied, taking the flowers from him.
‘Just need you to sign right here,’ he told you.
A smile started to creep across your face as you balanced the bouquet on your hip and hastily signed the delivery guy’s tablet. He wished you a good day and hurried back down the driveway to his truck, leaving you to check the card attached to the box.
Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I love you, and I’ll see you soon x
Your stomach did that weird jelly thing it always did whenever Bradley Bradshaw was involved. You’d expected the mushy, schoolgirl-type feelings to go away once you’d been together a while, but so far they showed no signs of letting up. If anything, it was getting worse the more time passed.
You hurried back inside in search of your phone so you could text him and say thank you, and also to ask what he’d meant by ‘see you soon.’ Probably just that he’d see you when he got back, though he hadn’t known exactly when that was supposed to be before he’d left. Your phone calls had been few and far between this time around, too, and the effects of not talking to him had started to take their toll on you.
You found your phone by the toaster and realised that was why you’d been in the kitchen earlier. You’d wanted to call your family and also see if you could get hold of Bradley. When you clicked the device on, your favourite photo of Bradley greeted you like a warm hug—him grinning on the beach, pink-cheeked and dopey for you. God, you loved him. More than words could explain.
You noticed a message from Maverick and tapped it straight away, assuming it was your father-in-law, for all intents and purposes, wishing you a happy birthday.
But you couldn’t have been more wrong.
The bottom seemed to fall out of the world, and you found yourself grabbing hold of the workbench so you didn’t collapse onto the floor.
What did he mean? How injured was “injured?” How far did they have to fly? Was he going to be okay? Were the injuries life-threatening? Would you even recognise him when you saw him?
Your breath shortened and black spots clouded your vision as you dialled Mav’s number, hoping for some more information. How could he just drop a bomb like that over text?
You ran upstairs and changed into something more befitting for a military base before dashing out the front door. Time seemed to crawl slowly as you waited for Maverick. At one point, you thought you were going to puke in the rosebushes, but the roar of Mav’s truck engine seemed to shock your body into cooperation. Before the truck had even slowed to a complete stop, you were yanking on the door handle and climbing in.
‘What—’
Mav held up a hand. ‘He’s fine. It’s not serious, just a few scrapes from what I heard. They just touched down.’
Some of the tension you’d been holding in your body dissipated, but not all of it. The rest, you knew, wouldn’t go anywhere until you’d seen Bradley with your own eyes.
‘How did it happen?’ You demanded.
Mav didn’t seem to be moving quickly enough for you, and your leg bounced in the footwell.
‘Didn’t hear the full conversation,’ he explained. ‘But I know it’s nothing too serious.’
‘And you couldn’t have put that in your text message?’
He flinched. ‘Sorry, I was already in the truck. Didn’t wanna text and drive.’
Honestly, none of what Mav was saying even made sense. It wasn’t like him to be so flippant where Bradley was concerned, and when had he ever been bothered about rules?
Your brain was working overtime trying not to imagine Bradley in a hospital bed, injured and bloody. It was your worst nightmare come to life, on your birthday, no less.
It wasn’t until you saw a signpost for Mav and Penny’s side of town that you realised you’d passed the exit for the base miles ago. Your stomach flip-flopped, and not in the enjoyable way it did when you usually thought of Bradley.
‘Where are we going?’ You snapped.
You glared at Mav, watched his jaw tick and his grip on the wheel tighten. The notion that you had anything to be worried about in a car with Maverick was utterly ridiculous, but you found yourself wringing your hands in your lap nonetheless. Your gut instinct was screaming at you that something wasn’t right about this, aside from the obvious, of course.
‘Pete.’ You ground out.
‘I’m taking you to him. Just try to calm down.’
You thought you heard him mutter something under his breath about knowing this was a bad idea, but you weren’t sure. And if he had said that, what could he possibly have meant by it?
After what felt like a painstakingly long journey, you pulled up in front of Mav and Penny’s little craftsman. You squinted, sure that you could see Nat’s car parked further up the street. But why would she be here?
‘What the hell are we doing at your house, Pete?’ You snapped ‘Seriously. Tell me what the fuck is going on!’
‘Sorry, Y/N,’ he said, opening his door. ‘You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.’
Furious, you clambered out of the truck and slammed your door so hard the whole vehicle rocked. Mav flinched, but didn’t back down.
‘Come on.’ He ushered you towards the front door, and you somehow managed to refrain from biting his head off. Nobody told you to come on, not even Pete. Especially not when your boyfriend was injured, and you were wound tighter than a coiled spring, ready to fucking snap.
He led you through the front door and down the hall. You were sure you could smell something baking in the oven. A cake, maybe?
‘If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m gonna—’
‘SURPRISE!’
For a second, you thought you’d finally lost it, that this was some cruel, stress-induced hallucination. It took your brain a moment to catch up with what your eyes were seeing: all the Daggers standing in Mav’s living room wearing wonky party hats and letting off party poppers. Bradley in the middle, his hat the wonkiest of them all, a huge, dazzling grin spread across his handsome face. He was wearing your favourite of all his Hawaiian shirts, the one you’d been hunting for to wear ever since he’d left for deployment. Now it made sense why you couldn’t find it.
You’d never been so overwhelmed in all your life.
Your knees buckled for the second time that day, and if it weren’t for Mav catching you under your arms, you definitely would have ended up on the floor beside Penny’s dog, who was looking up at you, wagging his tail happily.
‘Easy does it.’ Mav muttered, helping you to stand upright.
Bradley was there in an instant, sweeping you off your feet and into the biggest bear hug he’d ever given you. It was only the scent of his sun-kissed skin and your laundry detergent on his shirt that convinced you this was really happening. You buried your face into the side of his neck just as the tears started to flow.
The rest of the daggers swarmed around you, singing happy birthday, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of your boyfriend, whose grip on you was like a vice.
‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ he rasped, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘Told you I’d see you soon.’
You thought of the notecard on your flowers—it felt like a million years ago already, but it couldn’t have been any longer than an hour. When Bradley eventually set you down, it finally hit you.
You turned around and thumped Mav on the shoulder before promptly doing the same to Bradley.
‘You assholes,’ you growled. ‘I THOUGHT YOU’D DIED!’
The rest of the Daggers began backing up.
Coyote whistled lowly and murmured “oh shit” under his breath.
Maverick smiled sheepishly. ‘For the record, I told them this was a bad idea. But I wasn’t given any choice in the matter.’
You scoffed. ‘You’re telling me that big, bad Captain Mitchell was powerless to tell the bunch of idiots under his command that half-scaring me to death on my birthday was a bad idea?’
Bradley flinched. ‘I’m sorry, baby. We couldn’t think of any other ideas.’
You spun on your boyfriend. ‘And you. You’re supposed to be smart!’ You pointed to all of his squadmates. ‘All of you! You’re fucking naval aviators, and between you, you couldn’t come up with a better idea?’
Bradley reached for you but let his hand drop, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him touch you.
Bob raised his hand tentatively. ‘I actually had a list of better ideas, but Hangman said this was the only way we could be sure you’d come.’
You jabbed an angry finger in Hangman’s direction. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’
Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. Maverick and the rest of the squad took their leave and left you to have a quiet moment with your boyfriend.
‘I’m sorry we did it this way,’ he told you. ‘I just really wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to make it special.’
You melted almost instantly. ‘I know, baby. Thank you. I won’t be forgetting it any time soon, that’s for sure.’
You felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest and pulled back. Now that you’d calmed down, you could finally appreciate that Bradley was actually here, live in the flesh. You hadn’t known when you’d see him again, and now here he was.
He didn’t rush it. Just leaned in slowly, like he needed to be sure you were really there before he kissed you.
And when he did, it wasn’t desperate. It was grounding. Like he was steadying himself with you. One of his hands came to rest on your hip, the other cradling your jaw gently. He smiled against your lips, and when you pulled away, he lingered, as though he wasn’t quite ready for the kiss to be over yet.
‘I missed you,’ you said.
‘I missed you too,’ he replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ‘So much.’
He kissed you again, more feverish this time. It was like he was saying something he couldn’t say out loud, something there were no words for. Like he was trying to make up for all the time he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t have been any closer to you if he’d tried, warm and sturdy and safe.
Music started out of nowhere, startling you both. The Daggers were making some kind of commotion in the kitchen, which was nothing new. For a moment, neither of you moved. The noise from the other room seemed far away, like the universe had given you a second to catch up to each other.
‘You ready to join the others?’ Bradley eventually asked, brows cocked.
You nodded, and he took your hand, leading you through to Mav’s open-plan living space. The back patio doors had been thrown open, letting in the warm afternoon air. Somebody had hung birthday banners in the doorway, and balloons littered the floor in front of the couch. You spied a rather large stack of presents on the workbench, and a beautifully decorated cake adorned with candles just waiting to be lit.
Perhaps it was the stress of the morning you’d just had, or your love for your boyfriend and his squad, or perhaps it was a mix of both—but you felt almost lightheaded with joy, as if you’d downed a few shots of something strong.
Speaking of something strong…
‘Homemade cocktail for the birthday girl,’ Payback grinned, handing you an impressive-looking drink. ‘Sorry for almost giving you a heart attack.’
You grinned. ‘This more than makes up for it. Did you make it?’
‘Sure did.’
‘Good. You make the best cocktails.’
He beamed and pulled you in for a quick hug. ‘Happy birthday, Y/N.’
You barely left Bradley’s side all afternoon. Having him back home was the best birthday present you could’ve asked for, but the Daggers outdid themselves with the gifts anyway. You were perched in Bradley’s lap, listening to him and Bob recount a few of their favourite memories from their academy days. Bradley’s hand skated up and down your back, stopping now and then in your hair. He had a thing about touching you—if you were nearby, he’d be touching you in some way. Especially after being deployed for so long.
Not that you minded, of course.
‘HAAAPPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU…’
Fanboy and Phoenix appeared with your cake, baked especially for you by Penny.
The rest of the squad followed Fanboy’s lead.
‘HAAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR Y/N…’ Bradley pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head as Fanboy stopped in front of you. ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!’
Everyone cheered as you blew out the candles.
‘Did you make a wish?’ Bradley murmured in your ear, making you shiver.
You shook your head. ‘Already got everything I’d wish for.’
His grip on you tightened at that, like he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.
You hoped he never would.
My requests are still open, if anyone else would like to submit!
At thirty-five, after fifteen years as Hollywood's golden boy, Bradley Bradshaw is officially washed up.
Silent movies are out, along with their leading men. And those that can't make the jump to 'talkies' are promptly forgotten.
After two failed marriages and multiple box office bombs, his star doesn't seem to shine quite so brightly anymore. Dropped by his agent, replaced in pictures - he's being left in the past.
Until he gets an offer from an up-and-coming director, Robert Floyd. Pride and Prejudice, his first romantic lead role in almost five years. His swan song.
The only catch? The production has no money left, and filming hasn't even begun.
warnings: 18+, mdni! this fic will contain explicit sexual content, and adult themes. age gap (22/35), miscarriage, protected+unprotected pinv, praise kink, dom/sub undertones, fingering, f!masturbation, m+f oral receiving, mentions of ptsd, alcoholism and unhealthy sexual behaviours
moodboard // two // three // four // five // character inspo // playlist
prologue
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
epilogue
bonus content
sunset and vine (a standalone bob floyd one-shot) -
At the studio's behest, Bob Floyd is directing a musical. The problem? He doesn't understand them. At all. Why would you sing your thoughts, when you could simply say them?
Javy's had enough. He needs someone to save this production, and fast. Who better than the pretty ensemble dancer that seems to have caught Bob's eye?
this fic is now completed at 101k words :') they're so special to me, and i thank every single person who has read and commented over the past almost-year
Summary: Your breakup with Bradley was devastating. Both of you try not to think about it — but, one nightmare and drunk call later, you realize things aren’t as avoidable as you hoped.
Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x ex!fem!reader
Content: angsttt. post-breakup regret. mentions of drinking. tears. no use of y/n. reader and bradley must cross paths again…will they…kiss?
Word Count: 2.5k (in hindsight I shouldn’t have put a word limit for this event LOL)
Requested By: anon (☆)
A/N: first bradley fic!! yay!!! naturally the swiftie in me needed to reference miles teller in the ibytam music video, so writing this was a total blast🙂↕️
Cream-colored bouquets and bows still decorate the venue. All the guests have gone home. Only your dress makes sound now, brushing the tiles with your long train as you glide across the dance floor together. You stare into his eyes, your lips painted with the smile that has melted him since day one.
Bradley’s heart pounds hard against his jacket pocket, where his vows written on a crumpled piece of paper are still nestled. He wants to say he loves you more than anything – a phrase he gets to say for the rest of his life.
That’s when he sees the red.
Everywhere. Glasses of wine broken on tablecloths. Paint dripping off curtains. Cake underneath its icing, which somebody has seemingly ripped a piece out of with their bare hands. Even your dress is red as blood – a sharp contrast to the bright light you’re disappearing into.
You’re walking away.
He needs to chase after you. Taking you into his arms will solve everything. But his polished shoes are cemented in place. He tries shouting. No words come out.
As your dress train is still trailing, its lace like a flower in bloom, you turn around one last time. He wants something – anything – to keep his soul in place. Except you only have one thing to say.
“Why did you let me go?”
Bradley wakes up in a cold sweat.
His limbs are tangled in the sheets. Yanking them off immediately, he scrambles to check the time on his phone. It’s three in the morning.
“For fuck’s sake,” Bradley mumbles, rolling back around.
This must be the fourth nightmare this week alone.
At this hour, your shining eyes tend to be all he can think about – but he’s never dreamt a stupid wedding before. Did his subconscious have to go that far? Or be so vividly on the nose? He knows full well his overthinking and hesitations killed that relationship, like every other good thing in his life.
Bradley’s body shudders.
Against his will, bawling starts to echo around his empty room faster than he can stop it. His head is spinning. The pain is blinding. He hopes the cries will drain his energy until he has no choice but to fall back asleep.
And, inevitably, dream of you again.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
You try not to dwell on memories of Bradley too much. Part of you likes to imagine he regrets the way he broke it off – or, at the very least, that he thinks about you. Based on how easy it was for him to leave, though, you’re sure he’s fine. Wherever he is.
So you absolutely despise nights where you only stare up at the ceiling in bed.
The sound of his laugh and the shimmer of his deep brown eyes always haunt you when you least expect it. You want to block everything out – it’s no use. You can almost hear him knocking on your apartment door, waiting for you with the bag of groceries you asked for, a surprise bouquet of roses, and his warm smile.
You flip onto your side. He doesn’t deserve this space in your thoughts, but you can’t help it. Is he seeing somebody new? Do his Navy friends like her better? You briefly consider beginning to throw things at the wall, starting with your phone.
Actually, it just started ringing.
With an unsaved number you thought you blocked.
You sit up, mouth dry. The phone keeps buzzing. It could be that number you think it is. No, no – your reminiscing has made you delusional. This is probably a scam call, right? Or a dream. You’ve woken up to this kind of plot line before.
Even though every single nerve in your body is screaming not to, you answer.
Your hand trembles. “Who…is this?”
Nothing. You hate the disappointment that washes over you. Sighing, you move the phone away from your cheek to hang up.
Then a man’s voice slurs your name. “Hey, is this – is this still your number?”
Bradley Bradshaw.
A hundred things flash through your mind at once. Your chest swirls with nausea. It’s real. Nothing is making sense. Leaping out of bed, you start pacing around your room. “Why the hell are you calling me, Bradley?”
“Good to hear from you, too,” he says, louder this time.
There’s a bustle of what might be a bar in the background. You grip your phone tighter. Of course he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.
Yet you can’t quite bring yourself to hang up.
Before you can respond, he starts talking in that lilted cadence again. “You know I – I dreamt about you. The other day.” A drunken laugh leaves his mouth. It’s not bitter – rather, pained. “It was a good dream, you know?”
That is the last thing you needed to hear tonight.
You can’t take this at face value, though. Clearly he’s not in his right mind.
Suddenly concerned, you ask, “Are you with other people right now?” You’re only worrying for his safety. Not because you also want to know if he’s with someone. Ugh, everything about this is so pathetic. “Who’s there with you?”
Radio silence. You sigh. “If you’re alone, I need you to–”
“I should’ve married you.”
All air is knocked out of your lungs. Your mind goes blank.
“I should’ve married you,” he repeats, like salt in the wound.
You don’t realize there are already tears streaming down your face.
“Bradley.” His name leaves your mouth like you’re begging, the same way you did the night he left. “Are you sure you’re okay? I asked–” Your voice is wavering. “I asked who’s there with you. Can you tell me that you’re not alone? Please?”
He’s not listening. “I’m – I’m really sorry.” Bradley starts weeping into the speaker. Your chest twists. “I am so, so sorry.”
This conversation is happening so fast it makes you dizzy. You need to sit down.
As you attempt to come to your senses, you hear a woman’s voice asking for him in the background. You cover the speaker to let out a choked sob, fearing the worst. This cannot be happening.
“Damn it, Bradshaw! I said give me the phone!”
Never mind. It’s Natasha. You haven’t heard from her in so long.
Bradley’s apologizing fades away – thank God – and her voice comes closer to the speaker. “Who’s this?”
“It’s…” Any explanation withers away. You thought you would be strong enough to answer. You were wrong.
But she must recognize your voice – of course she would – because she gasps. “Holy shit. Uh – I’m so sorry.”
She must not have heard what he told you. Or maybe she did, and she just doesn’t know what to say about it. You didn’t, either.
“Everybody’s out together right now,” Natasha offers. “I guess he got carried away. I hope this didn’t–”
“It’s fine.” Every memory spills from your eyes. Taking an unconvincing deep breath, you say, “Is he – is he alright?”
A beat.
“Yeah. Yeah, he’s okay.” She pauses. “Mickey’s taking care of him now.”
“Good,” you whisper. “Um…make sure he drinks coconut water in the morning. That’s his favorite remedy.”
Your lip quivers. “Hope you’re doing well, Tasha. Bye.”
You hang up before this absolutely horrible ordeal can go any further.
The rest of the night, you’re a mess. Broken doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. You are a shell of a person, drowning in her tears, completely lost and unsure of what to do.
Why the hell would Bradley say that?
You can’t tell which is worse: if he was just drunk babbling, or if he really meant it. Life is a blur again, as terrible as the day your relationship ended. No amount of time or distance has helped curb how much you still love him.
This line of thinking is useless, though. You’re never going to see him again, and you’re not going to reach back out.
That doesn’t make the crying hurt any less.
⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚
Taking a sip from your glass bottle of soda, you swivel your bar stool nervously. After your initial mental breakdown – which was followed by several more rounds of uncontrollable tear-shedding, obviously – the last few days have been spent forcing yourself to get out and about. You know that tends to help you.
When you’ve felt up to it, you try going to places that you and Bradley visited together. Regardless of how much it makes you scream internally. He doesn’t own this goddamn city.
Memory reclamation aside, you still never expected yourself to end up back at the Hard Deck.
Thankfully, you remember what times and days his friends frequent this place. Tonight is not one of those scheduled outings – or else you wouldn’t have dared to step foot here.
You clear your throat. “Oh, I’m fine for now, thank you!”
“Of course. Let me know.” She smiles. “It’s good to see you again.”
You grin back weakly. You don’t know what the Dagger Squad has said to her about the situation. You’re sure Jake has made a passing comment or something. At least you don’t have to dread ordering things at the counter with her.
You sigh – you’re not here to drink this evening, either. It’s only for a session of exposure therapy, and a gut-wrenching one at that. This bar looks exactly the same. The pool table, where you used to convince Bob into playing a round, is still that deep green. You see yourself leaning against the worn wall, careful not to bump any of the Navy memorabilia while catching up with Natasha.
Worst of all, you see the piano.
The awful, cursed piano. Bradley always scooted over to leave you room on the bench, your shoulders brushing. It brought him to life, pounding away at the keys and singing so loudly that the rest of the world faded away. Back when you were convinced you were his world.
I should’ve married you.
Coming here was way tougher than you thought it would be. You’re about to make small talk with Penny as a distraction when the bell above the door rings.
“Ladies and gentlemen, these are your pilots speaking!”
It’s Jake.
With your luck, the Dagger Squad has chosen tonight for an unplanned outing after all.
This is whiplash in the worst possible way.
Immediately attempting to wave down Penny again, you force out, “Hey, can I have my–”
“Your check?” She’s already skated back around to your side of the counter. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. This one’s on the house.” Leaning in, she murmurs sympathetically, “Go ahead and get out of here.”
So they have mentioned something about you. Whatever. You can ruminate excessively on that later.
Giving her a quick smile of gratitude, you hop off the stool and book it as casually as possible towards the exit. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline, you might have collapsed onto the ground. All your old friends are gathered at the pool table, dressed in civilian clothing instead of uniform today. A pang hits your chest. You hope they’re enjoying themselves.
Then you spot him.
Or his back, really, with his broad shoulders clad in a tropical cream print. Your breathing goes shallow.
Before you can look away, he turns around – and stares directly into your eyes.
Bradley’s face goes white.
You need to leave. Now.
Nothing matters to you at that moment – certainly not being subtle as you speed walk straight out the door. Your feet carry you down the beach sidewalk like you’re flying, wind whipping against your face. You don’t give a shit that he’s calling out after you. You’re done. It’s over.
Unfortunately, Bradley has other plans.
“Wait!” Running at full naval aviator speed, he jumps directly in front of you. “Please! Can we–”
“Jeez, Bradley!” You barely backpedal in time to prevent a collision. “What the hell are you doing!”
“Damn it, I’m trying to make things right!”
In other circumstances, the waves crashing on the beach would sooth you. Now you worry that they’re too rhythmic, like a clock counting down your time remaining together. Despite how much your tunnel vision is convincing you that you’ll faint, the sight of him right here, in the flesh, suddenly makes you want to cry.
Well, this has felt like hell on earth anyway. What more do you have to lose?
“Fine.” Despising the vulnerability in your voice, you inhale sharply. “Go.”
Sighing, Bradley flinches. Then he stands up straighter, with that same determination you’ve seen in his gaze so many times before.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m…not expecting you to forgive me, alright? I left you. Randomly. Because I – I think way too much, and I was afraid. Of letting you down. But it’s not an excuse. There’s not a – a singular fucking day that goes by where I don’t regret it.”
Bradley bites his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I ended things.” He takes a step closer. “Really. From the bottom of my goddamn heart.”
You press your lips together.
“And…” Hair moving in the breeze, Bradley closes the final amount of distance and stands a mere inches away from your face. “I meant what I said on the phone the other day, by the way.”
You remember how raw the confession left his mouth. It unearthed images you hadn’t thought of in ages: a sparkling ring, a big party. Most importantly, the quiet dance full of twirls and dips and laughs and kisses and every other excruciating thing you always found yourself mourning.
“What are you saying?” you whisper, voice paper thin.
“I’m saying…” His breath hitches. “I’m saying I still love you.”
Any sense of resolve is gone.
You missed this feeling deep in your bones.
Bradley’s eyes, glistening with tears, search yours for permission to come even closer. You nod. Slowly, he reaches out to wrap one arm around your waist. Then the other moves to your cheek, where he wipes away a stray tear.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispers. “I just thought you should know.”
“Don’t worry.” You cup the side of his face. “I love you, too.”
In the light of the beach sunset, you finally come together in something that neither of your nightmares – for all their striking imagery – never had.
A kiss.
It’s slow and drawn out, expressing every ounce of remorse he’s ever felt over the course of your loneliest days. This is an additional apology, the kind that momentarily melts away a long list of mutual fears and individual regrets. From this moment on, Bradley won’t ever stop trying to make it up to you.
And his mouth is as soft as you remembered. It makes you sigh.
When you break away, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles gently. “If you give me another chance…I promise I’ll get things right this time.”
Grinning, you run your hand up his neck. “You better.”
“I will. I swear to God, I will. Because, believe me, I never stopped thinking about how much I love you.” He presses one last kiss to your lips. “Ever.”
Not me being stressed AF for the last month so I made my husband go solo to the Super Bowl party so I could stay home and watch my comfort show Blue Bloods
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