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Prompt: Because of your past, you hate confrontation. One day, Niall comes home particularly grumpy.
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: anxiety, past verbal abuse mention
A/N: hi all!!! continuing to try and post on here. please feel free to send any niall x reader prompts / ideas my way :)
You’re in the midst of putting a dish you just washed away when you hear the front door open, then suddenly slam shut. The pictures hanging on the wall rattle as you peer around the corner anxiously. The first thing you see is Niall bustling through the door. Normally, having Niall home would cause a surge of warmth and excitement to rush through you– but today, instantly, you recognize that something about his demeanor is off.
He throws his flannel on the chair and with his back facing you, runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to you, there’s no warm smile or cheerful greeting. Instead, he takes a few steps then tosses his keys on the counter, letting them slide carelessly across the surface. He makes no effort to even acknowledge your existence.
Instantly, a lump forms in your throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. You hate tension… Or any sort of confrontation, really. Your parent’s entire marriage was built off tension and confrontation– passive aggressive comments and slamming doors leading to screaming, which then led to shattered dishes or dented walls.
Your father had a temper. And it didn't matter how well behaved or helpful or unseen you were. Something always managed to spark his anger. The nights he drank were worse, and as the years went on, the sober version of himself made less and less of an appearance.
Although you didn't recognize it at the time, looking back, you knew that you spent the vast majority of your childhood living on edge– always waiting for the yelling or the screaming. You were afraid more often than not. And that wasn't something you could just unlearn when you were old enough to leave– no matter how far away you were.
In fact, it took years of hard work to heal from the trauma you'd experienced. But for so long, it felt like no matter how much therapy you attended or self-help books you read, there was always a part of you that was just stuck.
Until you met Niall.
Niall was the missing piece. His presence alone was healing. He was calm and safe and consistent. He was patient and gentle and kind. And when you finally got up enough courage to tell him about your childhood, he listened carefully, his brows furrowed somberly. It was like your trauma caused him physical pain– that's how much he loved you– how much he felt with you.
With Niall, you could safely work on communicating without screaming matches or slamming doors. It had taken time, but slowly, piece by piece, you started to rebuild, until you actually felt like you could trust someone again.
And of course, even now, in the midst of whatever this unknown territory was, you trust him. But despite that, tension is radiating off from him. It’s almost palpable in the air– suffocating you.
You have to say something– Niall will understand.
“How was your day?” You ask nervously, already knowing the answer.
Niall walks right past you to the fridge, pulling the door open and ignoring your question.
You bite your lower lip, your anxiety settling like a rock in your stomach. This feeling felt too familiar…
“Is everything okay?” you ask. He pulls out a beer, showing no sign that he even heard you. He cracks it open, the sound alone sending shivers down your spine as you’re instantly reminded of all the nights your father would drink five beers before even recognizing you were home. But Niall is not your dad, you remind yourself. Niall is gentle. Niall is kind.
He takes a long swig before walking towards the stairs.
“Niall?” you say, worry evident in your tone.
He doesn’t stop.
Niall isn't like him. Niall cares about your feelings. Niall loves you.
You follow him a few steps, knowing that you can’t let him just go to bed this… angry? Upset? Whatever he is–
“Niall, what’s going on–”
“Oh my God!” He bellows suddenly, waving his arms and spinning in his tracks to finally look at you. “Can you leave me alone for one goddamn second?!”
Before you can quiet down your brain or repeat all the ways Niall was different from your father, your body reacts as if they are one and the same. You flinch harshly from his sudden movements and loud tone, like your body remembered exactly how it felt to live in your house twenty years ago. And before you can help it, the glass cup in your hand falls to the floor, shattering around your feet.
The noise makes you snap out of your trance. Looking down at the mess you made, your mouth goes dry. Your whole body has already begun shaking and you can feel the tears fighting their way to your eyes.
“I’m sorry–” you whisper, choking back a sob. Then you brace for the screaming– the berating. Clumsy, stupid, idiot.
Nervously, you kneel down, tucking your hair behind your ear while you try to pick up the broken glass. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious Niall had a bad day. So why couldn’t you just leave him alone? The last thing he needs is you making and being a mess.
“Sorry–“ you mutter, it’s so quiet though, you doubt he hears. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. You’re so anxious you don’t even grab a dustpan, you just start collecting pieces of shattered glass in your hand. Your vision quickly becomes blurry with tears as they streak down your cheeks.
“Shit,” you vaguely hear, but you don’t stop trying to clean up. You’re frantic, grabbing whatever you can off the floor before he can get more upset about it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Through your clouded vision, you can’t see what you’re collecting off the floor– all you know is that you have to keep cleaning it up.
“Baby, stop–”
The voice is distant.
“I promise I’ll clean it up,” you say, hands shaking so violently, you wonder how no pieces have sliced open your skin yet.
“Baby–”
It’s just background noise.
“Hey, hey, hey.”
You vaguely see a figure kneel beside you and before you can wave him away, Niall reaches out– hand cupping yours before forcing open your fingers. As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you see him reach up to toss it on the counter before kneeling back down to be on your level.
All it takes is one arm wrapping around your shoulders for you to break. Suddenly, you can’t hold back the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. The second it escapes from your lips, Niall pulls you into his chest tightly.
“C’mere,” he exhales, chin resting on your head while he slides the both of you back against the cupboard. You let out a choked gasp and cling to him.
His arm winds tightly around you, locking you in place. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes.
“I have to clean it up–” you cry.
“Shh,” he soothes. He rocks you on the floor like that, his arms wrapped around you securely. Your breathing is choppy as you shake against him. Niall grabs your bicep with his hand, holding you steady while his thumb rubs up and down your bare skin gently, trying to calm you down.
You’re not sure how long it takes for you to feel like you can think again. Time stands still as you settle into his embrace. Niall’s embrace– you remind yourself. Not your father’s. Because your father wouldn’t embrace you after yelling like that. And he certainly wouldn’t embrace you after you broke a dish.
After a while, your breathing gradually returns to normal again. Moments later, you feel him shift. “Did you cut yourself?” he asks carefully.
He supports the majority of your weight, all but lifting you off the floor before scanning the length of you.
You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you did.
Niall nods before reaching his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get away from the glass.”
You take it willingly, sighing as you feel the warmth from his palm spread through your hand. He guides you away from the pile of glass and towards the kitchen island. He helps you settle into one of the tall stools.
“Hey,” you hear him whisper. But you’re still staring at the mess, so worried about cleaning it up. Until you feel firm, but careful hands cupping each side of your face– forcing your attention to shift towards him. “Hey,” he repeats.
His calloused thumb trails along your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re leaning into his touch, craving his comfort.
“Did you cut yourself?” he asks again, clearly not trusting your earlier response.
To be fair– you’re not even sure that you trust your earlier response. By now, you feel like you’re actually back in your own body, and feel no pain. So you shake your head, this time more convincingly.
As soon as you give the confirmation that you’re alright, Niall takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders, crashing his body against yours.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, lips ghosting against the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
You nod into his shirt, pinching the fabric between your fingers and breathing in the smell of him. Niall is not your dad, you repeat. Niall apologizes. Niall loves you.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, you were slightly more calm. “I’m sorry I was so annoying– I’m sorry I broke the glass.”
You feel Niall shake his head above you. “No–” he says firmly. “I don’t give a shit about the glass. I had a shitty day,” he sighs. “A really shitty day. But that’s not your fault.”
“I should have just given you space.”
He shakes his head again, pulling back from his embrace to look at you earnestly. “No– We’re supposed to talk about things. I promised you I’d always talk to you about things, and I broke that today.”
He brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face, before wiping some stray tears stuck under your eyes. “I know how much yelling activates you– I know it sets you off, and I just wasn’t thinking.”
“You’re allowed to get annoyed,” you remind him. “And angry. You’re allowed to yell.”
“That’s not how you and I communicate,” he says. “That’s not ever how I want to communicate, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time”
Squeezing him tighter, you nod against his chest.
Because Niall is not your father and you believe him.
description: jj and rafe get into a fight over jj being poor. you end up having to clean up your boyfriend and assure him that you still love him. inspired by taylor swift’s “paper rings.” a lot of this is word vomit.
tw: violence, talk of socioeconomic status, fighting, money insecurity, and a plethora of injuries (shown above).
synopsis: bob floyd is good at everything, except maybe expressing his feelings. based on delicate by taylor swift.
pairings: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)
warnings: 18+, minors dni, listen... if you're a delicate enjoyer, you should know to expect light angst here. expect softness too and also, semi-explicit sex, swearing, and the like. (wc: 2.2K)
note: so i've done nothing but listen to delicate and watch the lewis pullman pottery videos all week. be gentle with me.
written for the love is in the air challenge hosted by the lovely @roosterforme.
summoning a few fellow bob floyd enjoyers: @theharddeck @bradshawsbitch @rhettabbotts @roleycoleyreccenter @hangmanbrainrot @t-nd-rfoot
Another late night comes, and Bob Floyd is naked on the other side of your bed.
Moonlight shines in from the outside, slipping between the curtains that aren’t quite closed, and in the near dark, Bob looks almost contemplative, tracing the length of your spine with soft, barely there touches.
He is like a statue, something carved from marble, stretched out against your side, close enough for you to feel the warmth that radiates from his skin. You are a seasonal bloom, curving towards the sun, basking in his warmth.
He isn’t wearing his glasses and so, probably can’t make you out as much more than shadow and light, but Bob doesn’t seem to mind, content to admire you in the darkness, content to find the shape of you through gentle touches. Fingertips skim the curve of your waist, drum along your ribcage, making you giggle into the pillows.
He knows your ticklish spots, careful to press the kisses a little lighter on the back of your knee or skim his nose along the side of your neck, all slow and purposeful, depending on his mood. A smile pulls at his blushing mouth, swollen with kisses, paired with an amused exhale.
That was definitely on purpose.
The BCGs sit on the nightstand, set aside on a stack of books, next to the mug of chamomile tea, half-drunk and probably cold now. You don’t want him to reach for them, knowing that Bob only puts them back on to leave.
He doesn’t reach for them.
You have a few more minutes.
You don’t mean to let your eyes close, but Bob is warm and familiar and comforting. It is a losing battle.
He brushes a kiss across your hairline and settles there, muscles bulging in the folded arm under his head. His breaths, slow and steady and even, stir the escaping hairs there.
You drift in and out, lost in dreams of smoking planes and late-night texts and chamomile tea and a whispered confession against your brow. Come back to awareness in the cold absence of his warmth, his weight sinking the cheap mattress.
Between your lashes, Bob is a shadow at the nightstand, already dressed again in the black t-shirt and dark jeans that he'd been wearing at the Hard Deck tonight, sending you the I’m coming over message.
He doesn’t notice your gaze, staring down at the nightstand with a clenched jaw, still wearing that contemplative expression. It has soured somewhere in the middle, tinged with an internal debate.
He casts his gaze down to you, looking over your sleeping form, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You don’t open your eyes, not brave enough to pull him back down beside you and ask him not to leave.
Stay here. Don’t make me ask.
And after a few minutes, Bob picks up his glasses and leaves.
Bob Floyd is good and also, good at everything.
He’s not loud about it.
Not like Hangman is good at pool, cheering and fist-pumping after a trick shot to draw over a crowd, already recounting the shot in self-congratulatory to the nearest person who’ll listen. He preens at the attention, basking in it.
“Not just good,” Hangman said once, not one to let a compliment slide without making it into a thing, making you regret saying anything at all. “Too good to be true.”
Bob’s not dramatic about it either.
Like how Rooster will dance his fingers across the piano, playing a few teasing notes to make sure the Hard Deck quiets down around him, building the suspense of the moment, waiting for them to look at him.
Not like that at all.
He is unassuming, not expecting compliments or attention, and in the rare event that a Hard Deck patron or a fellow Naval avatar does notice how skilled Bob Floyd is at the pool table and the like, he is quick to dismiss the praise.
He is just… good. It is that simple.
You’d been a civilian mechanic on North Island for a good six months and were utterly convinced that no Naval aviator who’d graduated from Top Gun could be anything other than a walking and talking ego. Experience hadn’t changed your mind.
It is probably your own fault. You’d made it too easy for him.
All Bob Floyd needed to do was be good, quietly good in that way of his, and Bob had you.
It sneaks up on you. A startling realization.
You’ve never been this person, the one who is waiting for the text to light up your nightstand in the black, the one who is reaching across the still warm bed after, grasping for a ghost that’s already slipped out into the night. You aren’t supposed to want him like this.
You are supposed to be the cold one, the one with one foot out the door, ready to leave rather than get left. You don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you, not anymore, and Bob Floyd isn’t supposed to be the exception.
He is though.
He’s your friend. You like him.
He’s more than that. You like him.
You let yourself dream for a while, imagining that maybe Bob Floyd could like you too. He could want to be with you – not just want you on dark nights, drenched in loneliness, looking for someone who would understand the life of a Naval aviator and not expect promises.
It doesn’t always seem like such a dream. That, at least, helps you feel less foolish.
He comes to check on the F-18 repairs that Phoenix used to spearhead and lingers to ask you more questions.
Another mechanic calls him your boyfriend. A tease meant to embarrass you, not him, but Bob flushes pink.
His next words come out stuttered, caught in a sharp wind and knocked off course, but Bob doesn’t correct him.
He doesn’t deny it, but Bob still leaves.
And after Bob accidentally knocks your favorite mug from the nightstand with an errant foot, shattering it into pieces too small to glue back together, Bob makes you a new one. It is dotted with little pink and green flowers and on the bottom, marked with his initials.
Didn’t want it to get mixed up in the kiln, Bob explained to you, showing you the little R.F. on the bottom.
He can easily hold it in one hand, fingers wrapping around the sides and meeting near the handle. You weigh that against the delicate flowers that line the glaze and feel fragile.
You don’t know anything about ceramics – other than that Bob does know about them. Just like he can play the drums and pick out the constellations on clear nights. You do know that Bob must’ve spent at least a few days making it, if not a week.
“It’s not perfect. Got a little misshapen around the handle because I didn’t…” He shows you, pointing out the imperfection. It is a little misshapen, endearingly so. Little pink flowers. You pinch your arm and miss his explanation. “Is it okay? I could try again.”
He looks nervous. Moisture pricks at your eyelids.
“It’s perfect.” No one’s ever given me anything so thoughtful. I like you so much. You bite down on your lip hard and bring the mug close to your chest, cradling it. "I’m never using another mug ever again. You’ll have to put it in my grave with me.”
He made it for you.
No one has ever made anything for you before, and Bob made something so beautiful and personal and precious with you in mind. You feel raw, flayed right open for him to pierce you through the heart.
He made it for you… and still, Bob leaves.
A message lights up your phone screen, set aside on the kitchen counter during your meal preparation. It is much earlier than Bob would usually send an I’m coming over text, but Bob does text you about other things. You are friends after all.
Need a pool partner at the Hard Deck. Come meet me in the back?
He comes home with you a little earlier that night, stays a little longer, holds you a little tighter, arms around you like steel bands; but eventually, like clockwork, Bob reaches for his glasses on the nightstand.
You should’ve ended it ages ago. Protected your own heart.
He looks so handsome, so beautiful in your bed, pressing your legs open to take you apart with his mouth, guiding your hands to stroke through his hair, silky and slightly damp from a late-night shower. Soaking in every sound that escapes from your mouth.
You almost say it then.
You don’t, instead filling the silence with moans and gasps and the reverent repetition of his name. Move your fingers through the soft strands, tugging when Bob slides his ring finger into you and nudges at a spot that makes your vision haze.
He moans against you, low and wanting, curling his fingers tighter around your thigh, hard enough to leave indents. You’ll check for bruises in the morning, even though Bob never leaves any. He’s always so careful with you.
“Please,” Bob whispers, before making you shatter on his tongue.
You almost tell him then, but manage to hold it in, blinking the stars from your eyes, until Bob is sprawled across your bed after, mouth shining with you, pressing a wet kiss to your temple.
Soft. Like a promise.
“I really like you.”
Half a second passes, and Bob is completely still.
Fuck. You pull back from him.
Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have said anything,
You’ve ruined it. It was good. You’ve ruined everything. You –
A creaking bedspring. Bob reaches over you to turn on the light and grabs his glasses from the nightstand. You are both bathed in the warm yellow light as Bob slides them on.
Not to leave. He wants to see your face better.
He pushes himself upright, sliding to lean against the headboard, forearms rippling with the movement. Bob doesn’t leave.
“You…” Bob hesitates, expression guarded. “You do?”
It would be easier to lie about it. You can’t do it anymore.
“I do. Is that… Is it okay that I said that? Is it too soon?”
You can hear your own hope in your voice, unbridled, and Bob searches your expression, eyes wide and blue behind the wire frames. You’d never seen that color blue before him.
In lieu of an answer, Bob says, “I love you.”
You might not be breathing. You’re definitely crying.
He cups your cheek in a large palm, catching a tear that spills across the bridge of your nose. His voice is low and tender, enough to warm you from the inside out. “I’ve loved you for months now, and I couldn’t...” Wetness shines on his own cheek, and Bob brushes it away. “It felt so delicate and new, and I couldn’t risk losing you, even if I only ever got to have pieces.”
A curl falls across his forehead. You brush it back, stroking your fingertips down his cheek, and Bob closes his eyes with a shuddering breath, leaning into your touch. He is shaking.
“Not just pieces. You’ve had me, all of me the whole time.”
And Bob rewards your confession with his own.
“I always wanted to stay with you. You never asked, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” And the corner of his mouth lifts in a wobbly smile. “That didn’t stop me from pushing my luck when I was feeling brave.”
You remember. He’d hold you a little longer, pull away a little slower. He’d whisper words too low for you to make out. You wonder now if Bob was saying these words; if Bob had really whispered I love you in your dreams or said it for real.
You need to know. “And if I ask you now?”
“I’d stay with you,” Bob promises, serious and solemn. “I'd hold you. And then, in the morning, I’d bring you breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”
You laugh, and Bob smiles at the sound.
He lowers you onto your back, moving over you. He is broad enough to blot out the light, looking at you with such hope and love. His gaze moves between your eyes and your lips.
“Are you?” Bob asks, serious again. He raises your interlocked fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Asking, I mean?”
You kiss him. It is answer enough.
For the rest of the night, Bob is all over you, kissing your cheeks, pinning your interlocked fingers into the soft sheets. He slides into you with your name on his lips, saying those three words over and over again, like a prayer.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He lets go only once – to slide his glasses from his nose and deposit them back in their place on the nightstand.
And in the morning, Bob brings you coffee in a handmade mug with the little pink and green flowers. He stays.
end note: i'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings, especially since i've never written a bob floyd fic before. happy valentine's day!
Warnings-maybe language? It’s just straight fluff with maybe a twinge of angst.
Summary- reader can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore, Bob is an absolute dreamboat.
The Hard Deck is completely packed, everyone is off for the holiday weekend and it couldn’t be more overwhelming. You and Bob have hunkered down in a corner booth near the pool tables, nursing your beers while you watch the rest of the squad attempt to take on Hangman and Coyote at what is sure to be another devastating loss.
Bob comes back from the bar with more peanuts as you notice a few girls at the bar looking at him like he could be their next meal, and in true Bob fashion, he is absolutely clueless at just how hot he actually is. Just as charming as Rooster, and definitely just as handsome as Hangman; but the shy soft spoken man in front of you seems completely unaware of the looks he gets every time he steps into Penny’s bar. It’d almost be funny if you weren’t also one of the girls vying for his attention and getting absolutely nowhere.
“Goodness it sure is busy tonight, those girls couldn’t have gotten closer to me if they tried” he said, and you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh at how oblivious he was.
He quirks an eyebrow in your direction as you settle down with a deep sigh.
“You really don’t know the effect you have on people do you?” You say, mostly to yourself shaking your head with a smile, staring at your beer instead of at the bewildered WSO sitting next to you.
“Wha- Who? Me?!” Bob is beet red now, looking absolutely anywhere but at your face.
“Yes you! They were practically throwing themselves at you goofball!” Facepalming and erupting in giggles at the shock on his face.
He’s laughing with you in earnest now, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite believe you.
“Well that’s awful sweet of them darlin’ but I’ve got everything I need right here” reaching across the table and patting your hand, lingering a little longer than normal for two people who are supposedly just friends.
It’s always been like this, ever since the two of you met in the academy almost a decade ago. Sure you’ve both dated other people, but it never goes anywhere. Everyone always jokes that you’ll be married with a brood of kids one day and it gets passed off with an awkward laugh and quick subject change.
One of you is going to have to have the courage to breach whatever this is; a crush, sexual tension, love? Oh God shut up brain don’t get ahead of yourself…you’re smarter than this, if he had wanted you he would have said something by now. You could come out of your skin just thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, be his girlfriend, one day be his wife…
He’s looking at you now, eyebrows furrowed and looking a little worried that maybe the heat has gotten to you after all because you’ve all but spaced out trying to fight the war you’re having internally.
“Sweets if you think any harder your head is gonna explode, what’s going on up there?”
You open your mouth to tell him everything is fine but that is definitely (unfortunately) not what comes flying out.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we got back to Top Gun, hell probably longer than that and I doubt you feel the same and oh God this is so awkward you know what just forget I ever said anything.” You blurted it out, literal word vomit. Good job genius now he probably thinks you’re nuts.
You can’t stay and look, it’s too hot in your little corner booth and you can feel the walls closing in so you jump up and whisper a half ass apology as you push out through the crowd and mercifully make it through the door.
Gasping in the sea air and trying to regulate your breathing are proving to be difficult now, because omg what the hell were you thinking? You told your colleague (yes he was more like your best friend but nevertheless) Bob Freaking Floyd, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen that you are in love with him and then ran out of the bar like Cinderella at midnight.
While your brain is spinning out of control, you barely notice the door opening behind you, and you certainly didn’t expect to startle as the person that came through the door links his fingers with yours.
It’s him, because of course it is. You knew better than to think you could just drop a bomb like that thinking he would let it go. Taking a deep breath you spin around to his kind face and stupidly perfect blue eyes.
“You done spiraling so we can actually talk about what the hell just happened?” He says, rubbing the back of his neck and for the first time in years you can’t get a read on him. Normally you can clock how he’s feeling from a mile away but this…this is something different.
“Is there any way I can get you to forget it?”
“Not a chance”
“I- fine.”
You open and close your mouth and try to get the words out but there’s only one thing your brain is screaming at you.
3 words, 8 letters. You say it to him in your head every day, when he’s sharing his snacks with you during Mav’s long lectures, when you are watching whatever sci fi show he’s currently obsessing over and his rambling commentary has you laughing at his nerdiness, when he sees a dog in public and immediately has to burst out for you to look at the puppy and you completely swoon over him because he may be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
Just say it. Life is too damn short. Especially in your line of work.
“I love you Robby. If it screws everything up between us and we can’t move on from this I get it, but I can’t keep it in anymore I-I’m sorry.” You’re staring at your feet now, starting to wish you could just teleport to another place or jump in whatever Time Machine exists in his shows to go back to before this ever happened.
But Bob? Robert Floyd, man of your dreams? He’s not phased or shaken, not one bit. He leans in, pulls your face in with both his hands and kisses you like it’s something the two of you have always done, like it should be completely obvious to you that he’s always felt this way, he was just waiting for you to solve the puzzle yourself.
Pulling away far sooner than you’d like, he has the audacity to chuckle when you try to chase his lips.
“Silly girl, it’s always been you don’t you know that? I was just waitin’ on you to decide what you wanted, now mind you I didn’t think it’d take you this long, but I’d wait forever if it meant we ended up here.”
You let out a watery laugh as more tears stream down your face, Bob quick to swipe them away with his thumb.
“Come on sweets, let me take you home and we can spend all weekend talking about what our forever should look like, because now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.”
And you do just that, because he really is everything you ever dreamed.
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over the rainbow series | rooster & dragon masterlist | main masterlist
synopsis: Maverick isn't known for keeping a lot of things from his past, but he did hang on to a beat up old shoe box for the day his best friend's boy would grow up and settle down
word count: 2.3k
warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past pregnancies, mentions of character death, cursing
note: nope y'all didn't miss any parts. it's just me, writing out of order. and I wanted to give y'all something cute and sweet before whumptober starts:)
Maverick wasn’t sure how long he had held on to the letter, let alone remembered where he had put it. Penny thought he had finally lost his mind when she came home to boxes of Mav’s stuff strewn all over the living room. Maverick had never ever been labeled a “pack-rat” choosing to live very modestly, but there was some stuff he had kept over the years. One of those things had been a couple of envelopes that Carole had given to him the last time he saw her alive. Carole could hardly keep her eyes open from the pain medication but she had managed to direct Maverick towards her closet and grab an old shoe box that had been tucked away in the corner.
“You give that to him. . . when he becomes a father,” She had whispered to Maverick. He had promised his best friend’s widow that he would keep the box safe and protect it with his life. He swore that if his house was on fire, that old shoe box from Yonkers would be the one thing he ran back in and saved.
Maverick didn’t even bother to wrap the shoe box or remove its contents into some nicer box. Instead, he slapped a bright pink bow on it and set it on the gifts table with the others, sticking out like a sore thumb. He stood in the back of the crowded bar with Jake and the rest of the guys, watching as Dragon and Rooster took their time opening up the gifts and holding them up so everyone could see. Phoenix sat to the right of her sister, already taking on the doting aunt duty by writing down what the gift was and who it was from.
Maverick still couldn’t believe that he was standing in the same room as Bradley Bradshaw, celebrating the soon to be birth of his child. If you would’ve told him ten years ago that he would be “grandpa mav”, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. There was no way on earth that anyone, let alone a child of Bradley’s would be calling him “grandpa”. Those years of hatred and no communication seemed to be a distant memory now as Maverick watched the kid who was basically his son try to hold back tears while holding newborn onesies and baby blankets.
The baby shower was shark theme, which had to have been 100% Dragon’s idea, and Rooster went along with it. Dragon was at the point in her pregnancy where all Rooster could do was nod along and agree with her. So if was sharks that she wanted ontop of carrot cake cupcakes, than it was sharks on top of carrot cake cupcakes she got. It was moments like these, where Maverick could see the resemblance between Rooster and Goose. Two Bradshaw men who would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to make their partners happy.
“Last one!” Phoenix smiled, and handed Dragon a beat up old shoe box, “It’s from Mav.”
“You couldn’t have wrapped it!?” Penny scolded, lightly smacking her husband’s arm.
Pete just shrugged, “Adds character.” Penny rolled her eyes. Dragon chuckled, carefully removing the top. Her eyes widened for a moment, then she looked up to look at her husband.
“Rooster,” Dragon whispered, her eyes starting to fill with tears as she looked down at the contents of the box. Bradley leaned over her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, “Look.” Dragon handed him the shoebox, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.
“Are these all from-”
“Your mom and Dad from various deployments. There’s some written after his death too,” Maverick said, “She promised me to keep that box for you.”
Rooster nodded, his eyes feeling the sting of tears, “Th-” He cleared his throat, “Thanks. I’ll have to read them.” Dragon grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “Thanks everyone for the gifts. It’s clear that Baby Bradshaw is gonna be one spoiled duck.”
“Hell yeah!” Jake cheered, raising his glass, only to be swatted by his wife for his language.
— — —
Later that night, after Bradley had joined Dragon for a bath, and rubbed her feet until she fell asleep, he grabbed that old, worn shoebox and sat down at the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of scotch and grabbed his glasses, sitting in the orange glow from the light above the stove. There were probably a hundred letters in the shoebox, some of them bound together with a rubber band with notes on them. Carole had grouped together letters that were sent from when Goose was either at the academy, in flight school, or deployed. Bradley carefully ran his fingers over his parent’s handwriting as he shifted through the box, landing on one letter in particular.
‘Open when: you become a father
It was his mother’s handwriting, Bradley could tell by the curly tails of some of the letters. He gently opened the worn envelope that had a coffee stain on it, which always seemed to be a signature of Carole Bradshaw letter. Bradley could remember the various birthday and Easter cards that somehow had a coffee stain on the envelope. He unfolded the sheets of paper, and sucked in a breath as he began to read.
‘Dear Bradley,
If you are reading this it means two things, I am no longer with you. Though it is sad, you must remember that my earthly body is no longer there, but my soul remains with you always. The other thing that this means, is means you are about to be a father.
Your dad once told me the greatest thing to ever happen to him was becoming a father. Now, I thought he was lying to make me feel better about getting pregnant so young and when his career was just getting started, but he assured me that it was the truth. And for those three years, I got to watch him live up to that truth.
You might not remember a whole lot about your father, but he was a damn good one. Bradley, he loved you more than anything in the world. More than flying with Maverick, more than the Phillies, and more than apple pie on Sunday afternoons. He once told me that he could walk away from flying forever and be just fine because he would have you to fill his time.
I bet you are scared, and that’s okay. Goose was too, but do you know what he used to say about being scared? “What is life without a little fear? A life that is not one at all.” But I assure you, that parenthood is the best time of your life. There is nothing better than watching your child grow and become their own person. My favorite thing was watching you become an adult and spread your wings on your own. There comes a time in your life when you will sit back and say to yourself: “Yep. I did that.” as your child gets ready to leave the home and start a life of their own.
There are three simple rules to live by when it comes to being a parent:
Celebrate everything - no matter how big or small
Write down a note or two about the day, it’ll help you remember when you get old like me
Love can conquer all - remember to tell them that.
Oh, how I wish I could meet the person you fell for. Bradley, your heart is so big, I just know that whoever it is you met has a big heart just like you. You need someone to challenge you, someone who has the same spitfire and determination as you. Whomever it is, I hope you treat each other respectfully and always say I Love You before you leave for the day and every night. And remember no house is complete without an ironing board.
Bradley, I hate to leave this earth before you really get a chance to be on your own. It hurts me that you are about to walk into adulthood on your own and start a family without your own, but remember, I am always there. If you need me, turn to the sky, and I will guide you. We will both guide you.
We love you, Bradley.
Always have & Always will,
-love,
Mom.
P.s. I also found a letter that your dad wrote when we found out we were pregnant with you.
P.p.s I hope you can forgive Maverick one day. He only did what he thought was best.’
Bradley didn’t even know Dragon had walked into the kitchen until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her, a small smile on her face. He pushed his chair back from the table and pulled her to sit down on his lap, his hand instantly resting on her protruding bump. Dragon gently cupped his cheek in her hand, wiping away a tear he didn’t know rolled down his cheek.
“You weren’t in bed,” Dragon mumbled, running a hand through his curls, “The baby wouldn’t settle down without you.”
“‘M sorry,” Bradley said, placing a kiss on her cheek, “Wanted to look through these.”
“Yeah?” Dragon asked and he nodded, “Do you care if I-?”
“Oh go ahead,” Bradley said, “I was just about to read this one from my dad. . . C-can you read it, actually? I don’t think I can.”
“Of course, baby,” Dragon said and picked up the letter. She smiled looking at the messy, yet familiar handwriting, “You two have the same handwriting,” She looked at his baby cow brown eyes, “Dear Baby Bradshaw,” Dragon read, “Wow, you two really have a lot in common.”
“Hush,” Bradley chuckled, “It’s not my fault my child is ‘camera shy’ and won’t tell us what they are.”
“‘Camera shy’ my ass,” Dragon rolled her eyes, mumbling the words that their midwife had told them about 10 weeks ago, “I ain’t ever heard of a Bradshaw being ‘camera shy’.”
“Must get it from their mama,” Bradley smiled.
“As long as they don’t come out with my attitude, I’ll be okay with that,” Dragon sighed, and continued reading, “‘Dear Baby Bradshaw, I would call you by your name if you had one, so Baby Bradshaw it is.
I’m writing this letter because I can’t sleep, my mind is too awake. I know I should be cashing in on the sleep before you get here, but there’s just too much going on.
We got to see you today and hear your heartbeat. It was nice and strong and had a sound that was even better than Great Balls of Fire. I could never tire of hearing your heartbeat. Next appointment I’m gonna have to record it so I can listen to you whenever I can. The doc said you were growing nicely, which is good. Your mom and I want you to grow big and strong.
We have been waiting for you for a long time. Your mom is probably a bit more than me. I’m not going to beat around the bush, when she told me she was pregnant, I got scared. Am I really ready to be a dad? Am I dad material? Can I be a good dad? I had a good dad growing up, he didn’t do more than what was expected of him. So I don’t really know what I have to do. I guess that’s something I will learn as we go.
I know your mom is just going to be the best. I’ve seen her with the young kids running around base, and it is one of those things that makes my heart flutter. She’s just a natural and the kids seemed to be drawn to her. She cares for them and makes them smile and giggle. She is already getting things set up for you and you aren’t even here! The poor woman is making my wallet hurt!
You are going to be so spoiled, not just by us but by your Uncle Maverick too. He’s already shown up with teddy bears and onesies and some child aviators, which I have no idea where he even got! I’m guessing it's got something to do with a certain Admiral’s daughter he’s been seeing. You didn’t hear this from me. . . but I think Penny might be the one for your ol’ uncle Mav. That is if he can ever settle down.
Hell, you might settle down and get married before your Uncle Mav ever does.
I gotta be honest with you for a second kid, I’m scared to be your father. I don’t have the most ideal job in the world. Flying planes with my best friend has been my everything (don’t tell your mother). It’s been one of the best parts of my life. I love being in the sky, watching the world from up above. I love knowing that I am protecting people. People who don’t have the means to fight for themselves. But being able to protect people comes with a risk. A risk that one day, those enemies might turn the page and come after me.
There might be a day when I am no longer on this earth with you, baby Bradshaw. It hurts to think about, leaving behind you and your mother, but it’s the harsh reality of doing something I love. But I promise you, if something were to happen to me, Baby Bradshaw, you will be taken care of. You will have all the means to get by. You and your mom will never have to worry, I can swear to you that. But Baby Bradshaw remember one thing:”
Bradley had hardly felt like he could cry for his father. He barely knew him and didn’t feel right to cry for a man he hardly knew. Plus, he had watched his mother cry for years and Bradley felt like he had to be strong for her. But now, sitting in the arms of the woman he loved, Bradley let years of pent-up grief out. Dragon held him tightly in her arms, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. Bradley’s large hand rested on her belly, fingers splayed out as if he could protect the growing life inside her from the outside world. She gently ran her hand up and down his back, a trick she remembered her mother doing to her when she cried, to try and soothe him.
Dragon sniffled, and picked up the letter, reading the last line:
“I love you and I will always be with you, no matter where on this earth or in the sky I am.
warnings: cheating (it’s not bradley who does it but it is on the reader), slight emotional cheating, alcohol use, uh that’s it really! unedited as always!
word count: 4.4k
summary: bradley bradshaw has a best friend. he is also in love with his best friend. it’s a shame that everything’s just a little too delicate to mess with.
the way that i’m actively participating in this fandom is literally so funny to me considering i swore off posting my work in any fandom in like 2022 but here we are. my obsession with the white man with the mustache cannot be thwarted by words of the past. or the man with the cute glasses. or the cocky one with the toothpick. but we’ll take it one day at a time
also this is inspired by delicate by taylor swift ofc 🤪 this is for all my lover girls/boys/friends who want hot guys to dream of them. we are cut from the same cloth and we are two sides of the same coins.
Bradley Bradshaw was an outgoing guy. He was the guy that stopped the music just so that he could put on a show of his own. He was the guy that walked in late, expected attention, and got it. He was the guy that took other people out of their shells. He was confident in a way that was endearing. He was steady on his feet and he never faltered.
Until he met you.
The first time he saw you at the Hard Deck, he was intimidated. You were having so much fun on your own with your little group, clearly civilians who ended up in a bar full of sharks in uniform. That first night, all he did was look from afar.
The second time he saw you, your group was a little smaller, but you were still sporting that same smile. He was close enough to hear you turn a few men down over the course of the night, and that was enough to throw him off again. If it was meant to be, he’d see you again, he thought to himself.
And then he saw you again.
It was the night Penny finally put a karaoke machine in the bar. Bradley managed to convince all of the squad to come, simply because he scheduled himself for at least 3 songs. So they all showed up, and just as he was about to start thinking of what his opener was going to be, the bar music stopped and the karaoke machine started playing, accompanied with girly laughter.
There you were. Standing right at the front of the room with sunglasses over your face and a mic to your lips, fighting a smile as you started a one woman rendition of “End Game” by Taylor Swift.
It was clear by the grin on your face that you were doing it purely to make your friends laugh. He watched you in awed silence, dancing all over the small space and laughing when you took a misstep.
“She’s more ballsy than even you, Bradshaw,” Hangman said, nodding up to you dancing. “Or maybe the word is obnoxious.”
“She’s so cute,” Natasha said, laughing. “I love it.”
“Big reputation, BIG reputation,” you were saying into the mic, leaning halfway over.
“I’d have to be so drunk to do that,” Bob muttered to himself, but even he couldn’t deny the guts it took to go up there even as a joke.
The song ended, and you kindly handed the mic to the man standing at the machine, a sheepish look on your face until you were surrounded by your laughing friends.
“You gonna top that, Bradshaw?” Jake asked, and then Bradley looked over at you again, still smiling.
“I’ll let the bar cool down and prepare for me,” Bradley said, still looking over at you. It was then that Jake caught him.
“Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“Huh?”
“You should talk to her,” Jake repeated, and Bradley frowned at him. “She's pretty. Looks nice enough.” There was a pause, and then that ever-mocking smirk that came to haunt everyone’s dreams. It meant Jake was up to something. “Or I will.”
So, he did. He walked up to you, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that bad. The worst thing you could do was say “no”, and he would take that in stride. He never had to before, but he would if it meant he could just talk to you. Just see.
He was walking up to you, coming from behind, and then it was like you knew he was coming, because you whipped right around. And then he caught your eyes and all he could say was, “I love your hair.”
He kicked himself in that moment, but he realized afterwards that was probably what saved him. It was a strange comment, but it was better than a sleazy one. It was probably the only reason you didn’t tell him to leave you alone right away.
“Thanks!” You looked him up and down, but it wasn’t super flirtatious- you were just looking, like you were searching for a genuine compliment to give him. You just looked so sweet. “That mustache and shirt combo is awesome. I wish I could pull off colors like you.”
And that was the story of how you and Bradley became close friends. In the beginning, he told himself that he was okay with being just friends with the pretty middle school teacher. He was totally okay with you having a boyfriend, because he was your friend, and only that. But every time he saw you smile and laugh or how passionate you were while creating your lesson plans, he couldn’t help but know that he was lying to himself.
It didn’t help that your boyfriend was a piece of shit. Originally he wasn’t one outright, it was just the little things. He walked on the wrong side of the sidewalk. Bradley witnessed him make you split the tab at the bar. He had a wandering eye. He touched you only when another man got close, almost like he was guarding a treasure rather than protecting the love of his life. It was all wrong, and it all left a sour taste in Bradley's mouth.
The sour taste only got worse when five months into knowing you, that same good for nothing boyfriend of yours got another girl pregnant.
Bradley could have sworn that he was going to get discharged for beating up an enlisted man the first time he heard the news. You were crying, bawling your eyes out over the phone in the middle of the night, crying so hard you were nearly throwing up. You told him that you were calling him because you had nowhere to go and you had to get out of your house. He didn’t blame you. In fact, he had never driven so fast.
So, you stayed at his house that night. One night turned into three, and then three nights turned into a week, and it snowballed from there. At first, it was easy to hide his feelings. You were sad, and making a move was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was for you to feel better, and soon you eventually did. But his selfish mind almost wished that you never had, because the second you started smiling again in his house, in such close quarters to each other, he felt his resolve slipping.
He felt the words coming on the tip of his tongue every morning. You left earlier than him to go to your classroom and set up, and you always left coffee out for him. Sometimes you made his eggs if you had enough time. You made dinner more often than not, insisting on doing that if he wasn’t going to charge you for staying with him. And then you would pick the best movies and you liked the ones he picked, too. You sang in the shower and the bathroom you used always had makeup and face wash and a comb in it, but you still kept it neat. The words were close to escaping his mouth, but when he clamped his teeth down and held it in, it made that same sour taste that your boyfriend did.
That very sour taste in his mouth was there at the bar when he realized he was watching you far too often for it to be friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was make it seem like he was trying to make a move on you while you were clearly still trying to get over what your ex had done.
“You’d better get your girl, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, and Bradley rolled his eyes.
“She’s not my girl and she’s a grown woman, she can do what she wants,” he said tiredly, his voice so monotonous that the words sounded rehearsed. He knew that all his friends knew that they were, and it seemed like everyone but you had caught on to the hopeless romantic act he was hiding.
“Well, she never drinks and she doesn’t look like she’s handling it too well.” And then Bradley’s head whipped to the side, just where he knew you were.
Just as Jake said, you were walking up to the karaoke machine, an equally drunk Natasha by your side as you looked through the selection, no doubt about to pick something obnoxious. You weren’t as alert as you usually were, and it worried him. You hated being out of it, that’s why you never drank. He walked up to you quickly, knowing that if you started a song there was no taking you away until it was over.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said from behind you, and he saw your shoulders tense. “I think it’s time to wrap it up.”
“Wrap it up?” You slurred, looking up at him with those pretty eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. “Wrap it up?!” Natasha grimaced at you and then at him, already knowing exactly where it was going. “You know who didn’t wrap it up-”
“It’s okay, that’s not what he meant,” Nat rushed out, turning to look at Bradley. Natasha was one of those that could be four times over the legal limit and no one would no. He envied her in that regard. You were clearly the opposite.
“I just wanted to sing a song,” you said, poking Bradley’s firm chest. “You gonna let me sing a song, Rooster?” There was something about the way you said his callsign that had his cheeks going red. You always called him Bradley, except for when you had that one look in your eye, the one that really had him biting his tongue. “You gonna get off that perch and sing with me?”
“I think it’s time to drop you off at your place,” he assured you without even thinking, but he immediately wanted to swallow his own words when Natasha shook her head rapidly.
“I got kicked out,” you hiccuped, giving him a pointed look. “I sleep in your bed, remember?” You had no idea how much he wanted that to be true.
“Not in my bed,” he corrected quickly when Natasha’s brows shot upward. “In my house.”
“Well, you should probably take her home before she starts a song,” Nat whispered. “She was about to pick “Cowboy Casanova”, that was going to be a disaster.”
He chucked a bit as he touched your arm, his heart fluttering as you looked up at him with your pretty, expressive eyes. His laugh died in his throat. “A-are you ready?”
“Do I get a Bronco ride?”
“You sure do,” he said, and then you two were walking out in the night.
It was easy to get you in the car. You were an easy drunk, just loud. He buckled you up easily and shut the door as you started your own rendition of some Taylor Swift song you had probably told him to listen to.
After your song ended, the ride was quiet. He was happy with the quiet. He was happy because that meant he didn’t have to open his mouth to talk, which meant that he could physically roll his lips shut. Closed lips meant that there was no possibility of him saying something and fucking up a good time. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were grinning from ear to ear.
“You’re all smiles now,” he couldn’t help but point out, and he saw you turn towards him.
“You make me smile,” you said easily, still drunk, but it made his heart skip regardless.
Once again, the ride was quiet besides the purring of his Bronco and the occasional blinker noise. Even the music was turned down, but your head was bobbing to some imaginary beat. He couldn't help but make himself see this as a nicer moment than it really was, as a sweeter moment. In reality, he was taking you home because you were about to drunkenly sing a Carrie Underwood song that was going to have you feeling humiliated by the morning. In his mind, he was simply taking you home and making sure you got inside safely. In his mind, it was a simple night, free of drama. There was certainly no cheating boyfriend and no tears.
“What do you dream about?”
Your quiet yet certain tone broke the tension in the atmosphere of his Bronco. “What?”
And then you spoke again, somehow sounding completely sober. “What do you dream about, Bradley?”
“Uh,” he said, feeling his cheeks get a little pink. “I guess it depends.”
“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder-” a small burp escaped your lips— definitely drunk—, “do you ever dream of me?”
His heart stopped. He was so glad you were drunk. There was no way you were going to be able to remember the way he uncharacteristically stuttered or didn’t respond for a few seconds. There was no way you’d remember the flush of his cheeks under the bright light.
“W-what?”
You seemed deadly serious. “Do you ever dream of me?”
“I…” almost to his place. Almost to his place. “I think about you a lot,” he settled on saying, his voice much higher than usual.
“Thinking is nice. I can take thinking as the answer. At least thinking is on purpose,” you reasoned with yourself, seemingly to have forgotten he was even there to begin with. “But dreaming is different.”
He was intrigued. His heart was racing, and his hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel. “How so?”
“Dreaming is you being unable to escape a thought,” you said, and he wondered just how you were managing to get your point across so easily while being so smashed. “Dreaming of someone would mean that you think of them even when you’re not thinking. Your subconscious mind lies with them. It’s deeper.”
You were right. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but you were right. There were plenty of things that he swore he was over that he still had nightmares about and every time they happened, he had to face the music.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really hope you think about me enough to see me in your dreams.”
He couldn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? That he certainly did, and that every free moment his mind had meant that it was a free for all full of you and everything about you? Hell, he had once even thought about what your next classroom theme could be. You were that embedded into his mind.
“Wait, is it cool that I said all that?” You asked, blinking up at him slowly as the car came to a stop in your driveway. “I just get really in my head sometimes, sorry if I ruined tonight,” you said, shaking your head with a huge smile, as if you didn’t just rock his entire world in a ten minute drive. “Okay, goodnight.” And then you were jumping out of the car.
“Woah,” he called, racing around from his side and picking you up off the ground. You were laughing, clearly not aware that you had just fallen all over the cement of his driveway. You held onto his arm as he walked the both of you up to his front door, and you almost tripped on a crack in the cement.
“My keys.” You had them in your hand, and for a second, he just watched you calmly struggle with that stupid little smile on your face, like you had all the time in the world as the key kept missing the hole that it didn’t even belong to. “Maybe it’s the wrong door.”
He couldn’t help but laugh when he took the keys from you, already halfway forgetting your conversation from earlier. He held onto your keys as he unlocked his door with his own. He opened the door easily and let you in, prepared to tell you goodnight and go right to his room and try to forget the other was right on the other side of the wall, like you two had done so many times before.
“Where ya going?” Before he could even answer, you frowned at him. “You’re ditching me?”
He turned back around. “Do you need help?”
“I’m a big girl, I can take my dress off,” you said with a grin. “But I- I don’t know. I don’t wanna be alone yet.”
“Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, you don’t have to be alone.”
And so you weren’t. He stood at the doorway of his guest bathroom, the one that had the makeup and pink towel and even a pink rug. He had given up the space to you without second thought, and as he watched you dart around in it and start to take your hair down and take your makeup off, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You looked so comfortable in his house. It was all he ever wanted wrapped up in just one moment.
“Do you wanna know what broke me the most?” You asked out of the blue as you started to wipe your lipstick off, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. You took a deep breath to wind up for the next round of words even without his response. He knew that you were going to talk regardless. It was one of the things he loved about you.
“I wasn’t even sad about the fact that he cheated. I was happy.”
He was thrown on his ass again by you. You had a habit of taking his breath away more than once a day, probably once every two hours or so to be exact, but this was different. You were pulling no punches. You were throwing hand grenades in the form of words tonight, and he wasn’t even sure you were aware of it.
“It gave me an excuse to leave him. But then there was three or so moments and I realized the reason I was okay with it was because I was finally free of guilt, because the whole time I was with him- I’m an awful person,” you started sobbing and you let yourself sink to the floor, sitting on the pink rug. His brows lifted to his forehead for a split second before he went right down to the ground with you, and his hand found your skin and your back soothingly.
“You’re not a bad person, not even close.” He shook his head. You were an angel. He was genuinely convinced of that.
“I wanted you the whole time.” you slurred, eyes wide but not as present as he wanted them to be. Not while you said the exact words that he had been harboring since what felt like the beginning of time. “Almost ever since I met you. And I can’t help but feel sick when I think about how what he did is my karma.”
He was in shock. He didn’t know if he was more surprised about the fact that you were being so open about something that he was so hush-hush about, or about the fact that you said you wanted him. You wanted him. This was something out of his wildest dreams- just as you had predicted. And then he crashed back down to reality and realized you were drunk off your ass in a party dress, so fucked up that your legs were going every which way and your lipstick was smeared.
“Nothing happened, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly, ignoring the fact that his stomach felt like it was doing a Simone Biles level floor routine.
“But I would’ve,” you admitted, “if you had given me the sign.” Your bottom lip wobbled, and then you were full on sobbing. “I’m a disgusting person. Awful. Oh my god,” you whined, hands over your face as you hyperventilate on his wooden floor.
You were fucked up.
You were so gone, there was no denying that. He forced himself to let the words go in one ear and out the other, and when he took a few deep breaths of his own, he realized that you were still crying.
“You’re not a bad person, I promise.” You didn’t say anything, but after a few moments, he was sure you weren’t going to change your mind. “I think you’ll feel better if we cleaned you up.”
Your mascara was running, your lipstick was still smeared, and you kind of looked like a hot mess, but you were still gorgeous to him. You always would be. You didn’t say anything, and he took a makeup wipe from the counter and without a word started to wipe your face.
It was a silent exchange. Probably because the both of you were too scared to say much else. You let him wipe your face off and then he helped you stand. You let him take your heels off for you. He left for a few seconds and came back with some of your clothes, the nice pajamas he knew you liked to sleep in, and then started the shower and left. You were in and out.
When you were all done, he was sitting at the table. It was late, but he was drinking a beer with his back turned to you. He heard you clear your throat, and he had to stop himself from jumping.
“Goodnight,” you said quietly, and when he said it back, he heard you turn around and walk back to the room he had given you, and the door hut.
He wasn’t going to sleep well at all.
§§
It was Sunday morning. The worst morning for this situation to be happening. If it was a weekday, you would’ve already been gone, at least. He would have had the whole day to think about how to go about it. But it was Sunday morning, and neither of you went to church. You were stuck.
He didn’t expect you to be up. He knew that he could probably walk to the kitchen and be in the living room for most of the morning without you coming out. Your hangover had to be awful. So, he padded out of his bedroom, rubbing his face and going straight to the coffee pot.
That already had coffee in it.
“Hi.” His entire posture changed.
How he had entirely missed you sitting at the table, he didn’t know. But there you were, a cup of coffee in your hands and a small smile on your face.
You were beautiful. He didn’t know how you didn’t look like you were hit by a bud considering how messed up you were last night, but how could you ever? You always looked so out together and so cute. Of course you could smile with a hangover.
“Good morning,” he said, his raspy voice coming out surprised. He was looking at you cautiously, not quite sure if you remembered what happened. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” you said, now you were grinning. “It was so nice. Peaceful.” He decided that you definitely didn’t remember a thing, and he relaxed.
He ignored the wave of sadness that came with the loss of tension.
“What about you?” You asked, genuinely wondering, and he sighed. “You have any dreams?” He took a look at you from over the coffee mug he was drinking from. “You know I minored in psych, I love dreams.”
“No, no dreams,” he said, trying to shut out that whole conversation from last night. “I just can’t believe you’re waking up so… happy. Everyone but me and Bob was so drunk.”
“I had a rough night? I cried a lot, huh?” You asked, and he almost laughed in wonder. How did you not realize that he was literally in love with you? How could you forget that the words you said last night were probably the most important ones he had ever heard?
“Yeah, but it’s okay. Everyone has a rough night every once in a while. I’m surprised you don’t have a headache or anything.”
“Yeah. It’s probably canceled out because of the lack of stress I feel now,” you said, and he nodded his head when he assumed that you were talking about shedding the skin of the man that was holding you back. “It was real nice to get all that off my chest.”
He froze.
You were just drinking from your mug, making annotations in your book. He was staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to understand what to make of what you just said. “Thanks for taking my makeup off, too. That would have ruined my skin progress.”
Holy shit, you remembered everything. “What?”
You had to be playing with him. There was no other way. You finally shut your book, and then you leaned forward on your hands and looked at him with your eyes, one of his biggest weaknesses. “I meant everything I said, Bradley.”
“You remember?”
“Yeah, I always do,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That's why I don’t drink. I do things I normally wouldn’t but I never have the luxury of forgetting, so I always wake up embarrassed.”
Did you realize that you were holding his heart in your hands? “Are you embarrassed now?” Please don’t be embarrassed that you said those things. Please don’t be embarrassed because they’re not true. God, let it all be true.
“Only if you want nothing to do with me,” you said softly, looking at him with such vulnerability that it made his heart skip a beat.
“Are you kidding?” He finally said, and he knew then that you were right about letting the feeling lift off of his chest. “You’re in my dreams almost every night, that’s gotta count for something.”
You made the first move to get to him. He realized then that you were a master at making the first move- he had only done it once (after striking out twice) but you had done it twice in two days. And then you were all in his space, breaching it with a certain confidence that made him weak in the knees. It made him want to hold you and hold onto you.
“Almost?” you asked, and as he looked down at you from so close up, he knew what he had already suspected to be true; he was a goner. “I want every dream.”
“Who would I be to deny you?” And then he made a move of his own, kissing you and effectively tying the score 2-2.
about: with Bradley, you're easy... just like Sunday morning. Or those early stages of new relationships.
word count: 5.4k
warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.
Months, literal figurative months since he’d left. You’d only been dating a few weeks, certainly nothing committal, before his lengthy deployment. It was drinks, some casual dates, some really, really great sex. You thought he’d probably forget about you, in all honesty. so when he ended up texting he wasn't far from land and hoping to get a drink somewhere with you that night, you didn't want to appear too eager. Yet here you were -
“Good morning,” he whispered lazily in your ear the next morning, the heat of the sun outside already heating up your bedroom, the sliver of gold peaking around the ridges of the willowy drapes. His body warm and hard against yours as he wrapped his long, muscular arms around you, large palms wrapping around your ribs, cheekily keeping their slight distance from the curve of your breasts. Not that you’d mind some morning delight in any stretch. Bradley’s body made you in-fucking-satiable. You’d never slept with anyone like him. His ability to give you exactly what you need every time… soft, sweet, rough, and the confidence to show yourself off a little. Please him as much as he would effortlessly please you.
He nuzzled just behind your ear, the light scratch of his moustache tickling the sensitive skin and you couldn’t resist your burgeoning grin as you snuggled in closer to him, and laced a hand back to scratch his scalp through the messy, next-day curls. “How’d you sleep?” his morning rasp was a thing of utter beauty.
You had one of the hottest men you’d ever met wrapped around your body… how did he think you slept? “I slept well,” you confirmed softly. He kept you tucked tight against him, his body coiled around you the whole night. You were never much of a snuggler before but with Bradley? Well, exceptions would be made because… look at him.
“I didn’t snore?” he asked, a little concerned as you laughed quietly.
“The teeniest, tiniest bit,” you indicated the smallest amount on your fingers, but in no way it was a dealbreaker.
He groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so exhausted,” he confided. “And I only snore when I’m super tired. Just wake me up, and I’ll roll over,” he instructed for next time.
“How can you be sure that's true?” you teased.
He scoffed behind you. “I’ve been told," his voice dripping in humour.
The thing was, last night you were sprawled out over his chest while you felt his heartbeat and traced the ridges and ropes of the thick muscle and while he was so content, you would certainly not be waking the beast as much as you wanted to unleash it. He needed to catch up on all the sleep he could, even if he admitted he was a terrible sleeper. He was so used to the cramped conditions of his bunk, that even when in his own bed, he tended to stick close to the edge, smothered in his single pillow and stay to his regimented alarms.
But last night didn’t reflect that and you hoped he was finding ease in your bed… in more than ways than one.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him but you panicked. “I... didn’t snore?”
He shook his head. “If you did, I didn’t hear it, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. God, you would never get sick of hearing him call you that. The way the endearment rolled off his tongue could set you alight. “Thank goodness,” you muttered to yourself as he chuckled lightly. “Can I make you some coffee?”
He hummed. “Real coffee, not some shitty black tar?” he reasoned with himself teasingly, kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered. He couldn’t resist that devilish, dark chuckle that came with it. “Coffee sounds amazing. But don’t you move,” he said, barely shuffling. “I’ll go figure it out,” he loosened his grip on you and while you wanted to protest, you’d been awake a little while and your wicked caffeine dependency had kicked right in.
Rolling to your back, you pulled the single white linen sheet up for some modesty and snuggled into the pillow that smelled like his cologne. You watched as he slid out of the bed and by god, his body… you knew you were staring. How were you to help it, the thick, well-worked golden muscle strewn across his long limbs and torso. He was an Adonis, you decided as you watched him reach for his boxer briefs discarded the night before. He was so hard, he made no secret about it as he boldly grinned down at you and bent over to cage your face between his large hands that grasped your pillow.
“Something catchin’ your eye?”
“Everything,” you admitted as his face hovered over yours, sinfully amused. He delicately licked your top lip and reactionary, your thighs rubbed together in glee. “Maybe the coffee can wait…” you told him as he gave a simple nod, lip quirking into a sweet pout.
“Yeah, the coffee can probably wait,” he agreed, tossing his underwear away and slipping back on the bed, gently pulling back the sheet you’d just dragged back up and resting his bulk on yours, boldly nudging your legs with his powerful thighs and giving a playful roll of his slender hips. You wrapped your calves around his hamstrings, bodies close again. His strong hands crept up your body, pinning your wrists in his calloused palm, keeping his grip tight above your head.
You liked that move. A lot. A lot a lot a lot -
You loved the strength of his body, he worked so hard on it to be able to put it through the rigours of his job daily and showed it off with pride. But what impressed you most was how his mind worked, you knew almost instantly he was a thinker and in those first few dates, casual and a little more intimate, he was always so much more interested in your life than indulging in his own. He said repeatedly that he didn’t want to bore you with what he did and did everything in his power to learn all about you. You’d never met a guy so keen to just listen.
Although it didn’t stop your mind from thinking about his life, his favourite food, what his favourite TV show was (but you were gathering from his penchant for sports, it was SportsCenter. Also not a dealbreaker, although he was a Lakers fan… and you were not), what made him tick… what turned him on -
His sweet lips kissed the corner of your mouth, ducking lower to your throat as your head instinctively rolled away, opening your pulse to him as he chuckled quietly, his gleaming teeth tenderly gnawing at the soft flesh and he could feel your pulse race under his touch.
“You’re not sore from last night?” he asked cautiously as the flashes of position after position of the night flashed in your brain. All delicious and your body, you’d admit, was a little on the sensitive side but you were not complaining. He’d given you everything, soft, sweet, rough. And something you didn’t know you’d been craving… he gave you control and watching him fall apart underneath you was a thing of beauty as you rode him. Face, cock, he was in the front-row dedicated sonnets to you.
“I am a bit…” you told him, a little bashful. But what a sweet sting.
“Where? Tell me, use your words…” he said, his breath hot against your nipple as he kissed with hot, slippery open mouth kisses, eyes big as he studied you. “Here?”
Not one single per cent irritated. You giggled in response. Giggled. What the fuck was he dragging out of you?
“How ‘bout here?” his tongue trailed between your ribs and his dark eyes stared back up at you.
“Oh, my God,” you couldn’t find the words and you moaned beneath him, almost struggling to get out of his stronghold to at least hold him back.
“Take that as a no…” he teasingly muttered to himself, his teeth leaving a gentle mark on your hip. “Here?”
“No,” you swallowed, as his strong nose traced to your belly button and he gazed up, his flushed face covered in sin, and his tongue dipped into your belly button. “I want you, Bradley…” you finally found the courage to say. You were the first to admit, you could be a bit bashful in a situation like this and unfortunately, Bradley was otherworldly hot and it was hard to get the words out. “Bradley, Bradley…”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, releasing your wrists as wriggled your wrists and tangled your fingers in his messy curls. “I need breakfast,” he said, moving to his tummy flat on the bed and his calloused palms sliding under your thighs, resting them over his brawny, golden shoulders. You were completely at his whim as his long finger ran through your juices. He hummed satisfied and his silky tongue lapped at your cunt, and he was just so keen to please, encouraged by your waves of pleasure as he rutted his hips deep into the mattress, needing respite himself.
“Wanna make it a really good mornin’?” he asked the most obvious question in the history of the universe.
“Yes, God yes,” you said almost too eagerly, and you knew you should have been ashamed, but how could you when he showered you in attention and affection like he did? He chuckled into your skin, his tongue and lips indulging your skin in goose pimples, climbing up your body again to kiss you, tasting yourself on him as his hips slowly rolled into yours and he used his free hand to delicately place the head of head cock at your weeping core.
“That was emphatic, sweetheart,” he teased, pouring wet kisses across your breasts, his slick tongue circling your begging nipple as you writhed beneath him, demanding a little more friction. “Okay, okay, you are just gagging for cock, aren’t you?”
And yes, you were. Long, proud and girthy, Bradley Bradshaw had not a single thing to be concerned about. The jokes of his callsign ringing in your ears, the size of his cock, his penchant for early mornings (he in fact hated early mornings, he just liked to get to the gym early and prep his body for the day, which you found perfectly reasonable) and the many connotations of it, but the joke was on everyone else who didn’t get to feel this fucking good.
The way his hips rolled into you was bliss. He kissed you deeply as he fucked into you, your body trapped under his begging for release. His hips so fluid and smooth in their movement, you usually needed a little manual stimulation to get to orgasm but not with Bradley as you muttered in his ear that you were close and you guided his big hands into your tits, begging you don’t forget about them and he seemed to call up to the challenge, changing his position slightly to get that little bit deeper within you, because… of course, he could find your g-spot like it wasn’t even a challenge to him.
Was there nothing he couldn’t do?
He moved his kiss to your nipple, lapping and sucking like a madman. “You’re so tight and wet, sweetheart. Lemme hear you, huh?” He encouraged you, grinding deeply within you and the feral growl from him as you milked him, pussy throbbing around him as you pulled him closer to you, not wanting him to miss out on a drop of the divinity he was giving you, you loved coming on his perfect cock, just bliss as he groaned, trying to take every ounce from you. “Good girl... 'm comin',” he murmured against your mouth, his hips faulting as they sped up, unable to hold on as he came wildly. He gave his last few thrusts before collapsing above you and you wrapped your legs around him, not letting him go anywhere. He laughed quietly. “Got me in a tangle here.”
“Got anywhere to be?” you hissed back in a tease.
He gave you a thoughtful glance. “No, actually. Got nowhere else to be…” he pecked your lips, his moustache tickling. “Now how you feelin’?”
“Pretty fucked,” you admitted as he grinned wide, nudging your nose with his and he gently rolled you both to your sides and face each other. He refused to pull out and you knew you had a mess on your hands soon.
“Is that a good thing?”
“A very, very good thing,” you confirmed and if the stars shone out of your eyes, who were you to argue as you both snuggled together, neither willing to move just yet. And that suited you just fine. He made you feel warm, protected and as he kissed your forehead… a little like you were in love - -
A while later, showered and presentable although you still felt like your whole outlook screamed sensationally fucked all night and morning, Bradley admitted he needed food and could be a bit of a grouch if he got too hungry when you both finally rolled out of bed for separate showers. “I don’t know what time it is. I can’t find my fuckin’ watch,” he called from the bedroom. "Or my damn phone, though I think that's dead..."
“Under the bedside table?” you asked him.
“Ah. Found 'em,” he replied, a little relieved. “I feel we’ve lost most of the morning. Brunch or early lunch?” he asked, approaching you from the bedroom after his shower in the same clothes he arrived in yesterday, smelling a little like your sweet antiperspirant. His strong hands grasped at your hips as you bent over the dishwasher, putting last night’s dirty dishes that were all but forgotten to the wild make-out session while you attempted a movie after dinner. A farcical ruse if you’d ever heard one, but hey, it was worth your tender upper lip and the extra care you’d devoted to this morning and light concealer couldn’t fix the light irritation his moustache could cause. Frankly, he was such a good kisser… just thinking about his lips on yours made your head swim again and probably always would.
It felt like you were falling in love, you reasoned with yourself, and you probably were. But with what Bradley did, you were keeping a gentle, considerate barrier up. Mostly to save yourself if he wasn’t as into you as you were him… or that nagging feeling you couldn’t drop the whole time he was away, that he may not come back. Bradley was the total package, sweet, sexy, smart… sexy, funny. Sexy. He managed to tick all the boxes and in the short time you knew him, you were certainly falling head over heels.
You weren’t really clear how he was feeling but he was texting you as soon as his boat was coming into reception and asked if he could see you the night he was home so you begged that meant something. It was three months of not hearing from him, and he told you it would be difficult but he’d try. You Facetimed once, but it was innocuous. There was nothing committal, more his exercises and manoeuvres, life at sea, his jet and how he was excited to get home when it happened.
“Brunch sounds good,” you said, straightening and he pulled your back to his chest, his strong palms drifting up and down your sides pressing into the soft flesh. “Do you have a place in mind?”
“I dunno,” he admitted. “I’ll let you guide me.”
You had the perfect place. “There’s a cafe around the corner that has the best chilli eggs scramble,” your tummy grumbled eagerly.
“Fuel,” he teased, his teeth chewing on your earlobe as your knees started to wobble and Bradley brought you back against his chest, his hands deliberately turning you at the waist and his frame trapping you against the sink.
“Fuel?” you played dumb.
His lip quirked into a smirk and if you didn’t see the devil twinkle in his honey-coloured eyes… “You know what I like most about you?” he asked, barely breathing above a whisper.
“What?” you asked, your heart racing as his face hovered closer over yours.
“That you can see right through me and you think I don’t know.”
You bit back a grin of your own. “Well, I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?”
He hummed. “I bet,” and he kissed you again because if there was anything you were sure of, it was that no, you weren’t falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw. No.
You were in love with Bradley Bradshaw.
After breakfast, your lazy Sunday continued with a stroll through the local farmer’s market. You followed Bradley from stall to stall, admitting he’d never actually been to one but all the food trucks were awesome (he didn’t get much time to explore the phenom in his line of work and lack of real downtime. You had gotten the notion he willingly threw himself into his work but hadn’t verbalised it to him yet), and as someone who professed he enjoyed cooking, he was so excited by some of the produce, he couldn’t wait. He probably tried everything the vendors made available to taste test and the way his eyes rolled back into his head as he devoured probably more fresh blueberries than he should have was honestly? Adorable.
“Wait here,” he said, handing you a punnet of strawberries he was munching on. “Be right back,” he trotted away and you lost him momentarily in the throng of people. Not too concerned, you busied yourself petting a few dogs you’d gotten tangled in leads of, but you couldn’t contain the grin on your face when he reappeared a few moments later, a bouquet of colourful bulbs in his hand, offered to you.
You liked farmer’s market Bradley.
“You’re the sweetest,” you said, extremely touched and accepting the flowers. They were gorgeous, but this wasn’t a few stems, this was enough for vases spread around the entire house. You touched his chest and clasped his white v-neck tee, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him just that little hungrier than you’d been kissing earlier.
He giggled against your lips, his rough hands pressing into your ribs, massaging with his thumbs. “I’ll get you flowers every day if the response is this visceral.”
God, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere.
Forehead to forehead, you momentarily lost the outside world and all you could see was him.
“I’ll have to make you blueberry pancakes next time to thank you…” you told him as he nodded, lips pursed and trying not to get too excited.
“Is this where I tell you I was a runner up in a state pancake eating challenge when I was 19?” he asked, giving you a cute side eye, acutely aware he was indulging something that was deeply personal from his past. He’d admitted he was always a bit uncomfortable talking about his childhood and teen years, with his family trauma and all.
“Runner up?” you asked, somewhat impressed.
“Yup,” he eased a little, his large, warm hand sliding his fingers between yours, his thumb delicately rubbing against your wrist. “You’d think it would put me off pancakes, but nope,” he popped the P, giggling quietly.
“And you weren’t sick?”
“Well, yeah. I’d just eaten my body weight in pancakes,” he explained. “I thought it was invincible then,” he said. “As I get older, I realise how untrue that is,” he said, leading you tenderly again.
“Do you get scared doing what you do?” you asked a little suddenly. Because even though you’d known him a short time, you’d realised what he did simply terrified you. It all seemed so second nature, but he’d flown into war zones, carried weapons that were made for the ultimate destruction and spent so much time away, that you suddenly felt very silly about it all.
“I do sometimes,” he admitted. “I’ve flown in some missions that I was sure I wasn’t going to come home from,” he gripped your hand that little bit tighter as he went over to a butcher. “Steak?” he asked, turning his gaze to the small selection in front of you.
“Sure,” you said, a little rattled still at his last statements about him thinking about not coming home to you - well, home. It was presumptuous to think… well, you. You watched as he bandied with the vendor, chuckling at the choice and cuts of meat before you and while you were stuck in your head, he was suddenly before you again, a gentle smile upon his handsome features.
“Earth to my sweetheart…” he sang quietly and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, dragging you in for a lovely cuddle. He kissed your hair, but you didn’t know how he let the sweet waft of your shampoo overwhelm his senses. “Sweetheart,” he sang. “Are you here on earth with me?”
And you wanted to say no, you wanted to tell him this all felt like such a good goddamn dream, you hoped you’d never wake up. “I’m with you,” you felt yourself saying as you wrapped your arms around him, slipping around his slender waist, your fingers daintily dipping under his casual white tee, drifting against the soft skin of his lower back, and you could feel him shudder under your touch.
“I like that,” he murmured to you and only you, his hand tenderly grasping your jaw and kissing you. Kissing you thoroughly, like you weren’t in a local park, surrounded by all types as you got lost in each other. A kiss so simply sweet that your heart raced. “I don’t know what you’re doing, sweetheart, but you’re winning me over like no one ever before.”
Blinking out of the kiss in the late morning sun, you watched as he licked his lips, peering down at you like he didn’t believe it was real.
“Bradley, this feels like a dream,” you admitted shyly. And although he didn’t answer, the way his lips danced into a small grin told you that it may not have been just you that felt like this. “You’re a dream.”
He shook his head slowly and every movement he made was like slow motion as he left his hands run down your body, a hand drifting down your arms to hold your hand again. Your hand fit perfectly in his, guiding you towards your car in the car park. And you followed because your thought process, all ability to think on your own, faded slowly, the more you spent time with him.
As you met him at the car, he placed you under his body and the driver’s side door, secure and unable to escape as he pulled his aviators from his eyes and he lifted your sunnies too. “You’re perfect; I need you to know that I really am having fun and enjoy spending time with you.”
You pressed your hands into his chest, firm and sturdy, and all you could see was him. “I really like you, Bradley.”
“I really like you too,” he laughed to himself. “Maybe even like like.”
It all felt so elementary, but even if you were in love, and with each passing minute you realised you were in fact, in love with Bradley Bradshaw. But saying those words before him? Never. You’d live with like like for now.
“Take me on an adventure,” he said, clicking the car remote key in your hand and you slipped into the driver’s side, and he raced to the passenger side. Take him on an adventure… he lived a wild life. How could you impress him? It was nearly midday… and by your calculations, you needed 90 minutes to get to the Happiest Place on Earth (with a detour to drop your market items in the fridge at home). You grinned at him as he looked back at you with a keen interest. He could see your mind work and he chuckled quietly.
“Okay.”
“You don’t like adrenaline rides?” you asked incredulously. “You fly billion-dollar fighter jets for a living for extended periods of your day and this scares you?” you could feel amused laughter bubbling under the surface as you covered your mouth with your hands. And he looked so ridiculous with his Mickey ears you purchased for him on the way in and wide eyes.
“Well, I am in complete control of that jet,” he reminded you sternly, posture tight and standing to his full height. He was so, so tall and so handsome, even with the ridiculous ears you’d christened him with as soon as you entered the park.
“This is, like, 60 seconds. 90 seconds max.”
“Nothing good comes in that amount of time,” and you could feel the smarminess in his tone as you cackled, dumping the ice cream in your hand in the passing bin and you dragged him into the ride line. You probably had 10-15 minutes to wait if you were lucky but you didn’t have the time to waste, you needed to get Bradley on as many rides as possible and you were a bit of a thrill seeker yourself. Guardians of the Galaxy awaited.
“How about I just take you up in my plane?” he offered as he watched you, giddy, on your toes. You laughed and told him a simple “no, thanks”. “I’m sure I could get some kind of clearance,” he rested his hands on your hips as he waited patiently behind you.
“I’m about 99% sure that, no, in no world, you could ever get clearance for me to go up in your jet,” you let that laughter spill as he rested his lips on your clavicle and the huff of heat from his breath against your neck told you that you were probably right. “Where would I even sit?” You humoured him.
“On my lap,” he said. “Keeping me nice an’ cozy.”
Ridiculous. “And how would you see around me if I’m keeping your lap nice and cozy?”
“I’d make do. Always do.”
“Use the gear stick?”
He laughed at your loose interpretation of his jet’s controls you used but replied anyway, “Pretty sure I could just work through it,” from behind you he closed the distance from his belly to your back, easing you against him. “Pretty good with most things between my legs.”
You eased back and giggled gently. “There are families here…” you hinted.
“Don’t care,” you could feel his grin against your skin as his hands firmed around your waist, dragging you flush against his chest and like a constrictor, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso. “Just keeping you safe in the line for the ride,” the tip of his nose drifted to the shell of your ear and you melted against him. “You just never know what’s lurking around the corner these days…”
“You’re trouble, Bradley Bradshaw.”
Home hours later, the sun had set by the time you’d arrived back at your villa, dark as you entered the house. Bradley crowded you as you unlocked the door and he stumbled in behind you, a mess of limbs and tongues as he thanked you for the unplanned afternoon. You clutched the ridiculous photo from the ride that proved Bradley didn’t enjoy cheap thrill rides in the slightest. Your hand thrust up in the air giving a peace sign, awaiting the flash and sheer terror rang in his eyes, anticipating the next drop. It was hilarious and it was going straight up on the fridge as a reminder of your wildly fun, completely unplanned day.
You had grown so close so quickly and yes, today proved you were ruthlessly in love with Bradley. And as he kissed you, holding your body so close like you were one person, you weren’t sure how you could go back to the person you were before you met him.
He’d empirically changed your DNA, the beat of your heart and the permanency of the smile on your face.
“Come on,” he pulled back a little. “Let me make you dinner. You must be starved.”
“Dinner?” all the air in your head was dizzying and you didn’t even think about eating even if you muttered the whole trip home how hungry you were.
“You know those steaks I got today? The veggies?” he teased.
“You’re gonna cook for me?” you were a little touched, stumbling behind him as he led you to the kitchen, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as you watched the rippling curve of his shoulders and traps. How were you ever going to get over him, you thought sadly.
“Of course,” he said, hitching you into the corner of the bench, pushing between your thighs and smiling, a gentle sigh escaping your lips. “Workin’ on the romance up in here,” he teased, touching your lower lip with his thumb. “I really had a great day today,” he confided, low.
“Me too,” you admitted, watching his lips keenly.
“I’m gonna have to head back to the old man’s tonight…” he said softly. He was staying in town with his dad (of sorts), who you’d come to learn to be Mav. You didn’t know too much about him, or Bradley’s family aside from when he confided he was an orphan just before he turned 18 . You figured it was probably the main reason why you knew very little about him. “My clothes and stuff are there.”
“You coming back?” you asked gently, not wanting to assume anything.
“I don’t want to impose…” he said. “I know you have work tomorrow morning.”
“You can completely impose,” you reassure him as his face broke into a shy smile, a little bit of relief washing over him, cutting the tension of the close proximity. “Look… I know this is new and fast, even though it feels so slow with me being away. I really like like spending time with you.”
“Like like…” you sighed quietly, ducking your eyes and while you teasingly mocked him, you prayed he may graduate to love and not leave you out on the ledge exposed and alone, believing it was only you feeling like this. No one liked feeling vulnerable in new relationships, but you needed to get a gauge on where he was. If he was swept up like you were. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that it was too fast, that you’d fallen too quick and for a man who demanded speed… he didn’t feel the same. You’d be okay with that, but you’d have to pull the breaks too.
“Do I need to say the words?” his voice so low, his usual air of confidence gone and pretences dropped. He seemed so soft, and willing as he tenderly kissed you, his fingers lacing into your hair, a tender tug as you gasped against his lips. “I think I’m in love with you. And I know it’s so fuckin’ quick, but it doesn’t change that I want you. That I need you…” he said so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him.
And the words got caught in your throat as his honey-coloured eyes searched yours, desperate for your reply.
“But if you’re not ready to say it back, that’s o - - ”
“I love you too, Bradley,” you told him as the flush in his cheeks deepened as he rested his forehead against yours.
“Yeah?”
“I do,” you nodded, softly as he cupped your chin and grinned. He may have been holding his breath as the huff of laughter fanned against your face and he kissed you.
“I don’t know how this has happened, I wasn’t expecting this when we met,” he whispered, tilting his forehead to rest against yours. "Be mine?"
“I'm yours,” and now that you’d found him, you weren’t letting him go.
masterlist.
A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
An early Christmas gift for y'all! Here's my entry for "Midnight Mass" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge! Kinda fell in love with these two, so let me know if you want to see more of them!
Summary: Bradley joins you and your family for midnight Mass.
Warnings: religious inaccuracies
Length: 2.3k words
Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader
Christmas with your family was always a big event. Everyone came from all over to your parents’ house in Norfolk and spent the holiday together. Nearly forty-eight hours of uninterrupted family time. There was little sleep involved as there were people playing music and games all night long, so if you could find a quiet place to take a nap, you were lucky.
That’s why you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you saw your boyfriend of eleven months, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, dozing in one of the plush chairs in your father’s study. Your three year old niece was tucked into his side while she drew in the princess coloring book you had gotten her, his arm wrapped protectively around her and a purple crayon dangling from his fingers. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture, the sight melting your heart.
You knew the day had to have been overwhelming for Bradley. Hell, it was your family and it was overwhelming for you. Your two older brothers, their wives and children, your aunts and uncles from both sides and some of your cousins… twenty people, even in a house as large as your parents’, was nothing short of chaotic. You were shocked he even agreed to come, since he was used to spending the holidays alone on base.
Stepping into the room, the click of your heels on the wooden floor drew the attention of your niece Lyla, despite your attempts to be as quiet as possible. She waved with a smile, then put her chubby finger to her lips, a signal for you to be quiet. “Unka Roo sleepin’,” she whispered, before going back to coloring.
“I see that,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to her unruly curls. “You like cuddling with your Uncle Roo?”
The little girl nodded, her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit as she focused on coloring. “He a warm blankie.”
She shifted, snuggling closer to him, and the slight movement was enough to rouse him, his muscled arm tightening around her as though she was going to fall. “You okay, doll?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open.
You chose to remain silent, watching the heartwarming interaction. Seeing him with your niece lit a fire in your belly unlike anything you had ever felt, the thought of him with children of his own and what that would be like was impossible to ignore.
“Mmhm!” Lyla nodded, holding up her picture for him to see. “All done!”
Bradley ran his free hand over his face and forced his eyes open further, looking at the presented coloring page. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he grinned, kissing her hair before looking up, finally noticing that you were in the room. “Hey, Tink.”
“Hey yourself, handsome. Have a good nap?” You asked, watching as he helped Lyla out of the chair when she started trying to get up, saying something about going to show her parents the picture she colored.
Once she was out of the room, Bradley stretched his arms above his head, hoping to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. “Must have,” he said, sitting back and patting his knee for you to come join him. “How long was I out?”
You moved closer and sat on his lap, careful not to wrinkle his dark gray slacks too much. His matching jacket had been discarded on a chair across the room earlier in the night, leaving him wearing a white dress shirt that had the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his well muscled forearms. His arm wrapped around your waist effortlessly, his thumb brushing over the skin exposed by the open back of your green party dress.
“An hour, at least,” you replied, moving your hand to the back of his neck, your nails running through the short hair there. You had been helping your mother and sister in laws clean up after dinner, so you didn't know for sure.
Bradley nodded, leaning forward just enough to kiss your shoulder. “Lyla was getting a little cranky, I think there was too much going on with all the kids running around after dinner, so I brought her in here to relax. I hope that's okay.”
“More than okay,” you reassured him. “I'm sure Tim was thrilled for the break, Uncle Roo.”
His cheeks turned pink at the term of endearment. “I think she's used to calling everyone ‘uncle’,” he explained. It made sense, aside from her father and grandfather, every other adult man in her life was an uncle. “And she was having a hard time with Bradley, so I figured she could call me Rooster.”
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly before pulling back to meet his hazel eyes. “So long as you're okay with it. I don't want you to feel pressured.”
“I like it, actually. I've always wanted to be an uncle. Hard with no siblings though,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness.
Your left hand lifted to rest on his jaw, stroking over his stubble with your thumb. “My brothers might give you shit, but they love you, and you know my parents adore you. Lyla clearly prefers you to anyone else, and the other kids love when you roughhouse with them. I'd say you're pretty welcome in this family, Bradley.”
He nodded, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You’d always had a large family, so you couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be an orphan. He had told you the story before, his father died when he was a toddler, and his mother passed from cancer as a teen. He went to live with Maverick, his godfather, who betrayed his trust and prevented him from going to the Naval Academy. They hadn't spoken in years, leaving him with nothing but the Navy.
Until he met you.
To hear him tell it, your blind date set up on New Year’s Eve the previous year was a miracle in and of itself. You remembered it more based on the hangover you had the next day, so you took his word for it.
Since then, though, despite a deployment and a couple missions, you were happy together. Nothing was perfect, of course, but you never expected it to be.
You studied him carefully for a moment, and when he didn't reply, you rested your head against his shoulder, letting your hand slip from his jaw to rest against his chest, his heartbeat strong under your fingertips. “Bradley, I--”
The sound of your father’s booming voice interrupted you as he called for everyone to get ready for Mass. You knew Bradley wasn't religious, and you had told him he didn't have to participate, but it was a family tradition of yours to go to midnight Mass at the local church every Christmas.
“You should come with us, you might enjoy yourself,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to kiss him gently.
“I don't know anything about religion,” he pointed out, his arms holding you close as you perched on his lap.
Shaking your head, you smiled and continued to run your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, soothing him. “That's the beauty of it, you don't have to.”
With a pat to his chest, you stood, holding your hand out to him. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, unsure, before he finally accepted your hand and stood himself. You took the liberty of buttoning his open button while he unrolled his sleeves, helping him into his suit jacket after he had done so.
“You do clean up nicely, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you grinned, kissing him once more.
“So do you, Tinkerbell,” he said, twirling you in a circle, making your skirt flare around your legs. He caught you in his arms before dipping you backward, drawing a giggle from you. “Should we go?”
You nodded as he stood you back on your own two feet, leading him out to the front hall where there was a bustle of energy as everyone put their coats on to brave the cold. Bradley helped you into your parka, making sure it was buttoned up before slipping his own heavy coat on.
Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled. “Ready to go?” he asked, motioning toward the door with a tip of his head.
“I am.” You snuggled into his side and allowed him to lead you out to his Bronco that you had driven from Virginia Beach. Once you were both inside, he started the engine and followed the caravan of vehicles leaving your house for the church.
Sacred Heart was the church you had attended with your family for as long as you could remember. You and your brothers had been confirmed there, and while none of you were particularly religious anymore, you still attended midnight Mass with your devout parents every year for Christmas.
You usually sat in the back, since you were such a large group, and with small children it was easier to duck out if they got too loud and interrupted the service. This year was no different, with you and Bradley taking a seat in the last row with your brothers and their families.
Almost as if on cue, as soon as the service started, Lyla started making a fuss. She hadn’t napped earlier in the day like your brother Tim had hoped she would, and now that it was midnight, she was beyond tired. Her older brother Brenden tried to calm her down, but it only caused her to get louder, trying to squirm out of her mother’s arms. Her efforts doubled when she saw you and Bradley sitting at the end of the pew, reaching out for him.
“Unka Roo! Unka Rooooo!” she cried, tears falling down her pink cheeks as she got more frustrated.
Bradley peeked around you to see Lyla distressed and frowned. Without hesitation, he stood and moved around the back of the pew, crouching down behind Tim and his wife, Sarah. “I can take her, maybe she’ll stop?” he whispered, smiling when he saw the three year old already calming some since he came over.
They shared a look between each other and then looked back to Bradley. “Baby whisperer, huh?” Tim smirked, watching as his wife handed their daughter over to the aviator. “Good luck.”
Lyla quieted almost instantly once she was in Bradley’s arms, resting her head against his shoulder. You turned in your seat to smile at him, feeling like your heart was going to explode in your chest as you watched him pace the rear of the church with your niece in his arms. The only thing that pulled you from your reverie was your eldest brother, Tony, nudging your shoulder.
“Oooh, you’re in trouble with that one, aren’t you?” he teased, taking the elbow to the ribs you delivered with a quiet grunt. “What? You’re looking at him like you want him to put a baby in you right here.”
“Tony!” you hissed, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.
Before you could say anything else, Bradley returned to his seat beside you, a soundly sleeping Lyla on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” he whispered, noticing the flush in your cheeks.
Tony leaned over you. “She just --”
You covered his mouth and shoved him back toward his wife before shaking your head at Bradley. “Everything’s fine, my brother is just being a pig,” you explained quietly, turning your attention back to the service when your father shot you and your brother a look over his shoulder.
The remainder of midnight Mass went without incident, and when the service was over, you waited for everyone to leave before heading outside yourself with Bradley by your side. Your family was gathered on the steps of the church, making conversation amongst themselves when Tim stepped in front of you.
“Thanks for holding her, Bradley,” he smiled, managing to lift his daughter into his own arms without waking her. “She really likes you.”
He shrugged, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “She’s a cutie, that’s for sure. Thanks for trusting me with her.”
You snuggled against his side, smiling up at him. “Did you have a good night?”
“I had a great night,” he promised, wrapping his arm around you. “I do have one thing that would make it better though.”
There was a curious look on your face when he pulled away, just enough to drop to one knee in front of you, his hand pulling a small box out of his pocket. You gasped, covering your mouth, unable to take your eyes off Bradley despite feeling your whole family staring at you.
“I love you so much,” he swallowed hard, opening the ring box to show a simple diamond ring that had belonged to his mother. “I want you to be my Tinkerbell forever. Will you marry me?”
A tear slid down your cheek as you nodded, offering him your hand. “Yes. God, yes, Bradley!”
Your family and a few other bystanders from the church all clapped as he slid the ring on your finger and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. As you parted, a light snow began to fall, dusting your cheeks with cool snowflakes.
You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you with the perfect timing.”
“I try,” he smirked, kissing you once again as your family headed off to their cars to go back home. “Let’s get back, we have Christmas and an engagement to celebrate.”
pairing: modern!penelope featherington x modern!colin bridgerton
warning: some swearing, sexual innuendos, fat shaming, shitty mother, usual bridgerton chaos, insomnia, insecurities
summary: a walk through colin and penelope's relationship based on it's nice to have a friend by mother, doctor, taylor allison swift
word count: 2,9k
Penelope Featherington was walking home after a long day at the university and her only company was the ringing bell of the nearby primary school. January didn’t treat London nicely this year and everything around her was completely covered in white fluff. She was barely able to see a chalk drawing on a sidewalk as it was also covered in thin layer of snow. She smiled to herself when she realised that three little people were drawn on the pavement and signed “me and my best friends”. She thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. She’d never been very sentimental about stuff like that but today she felt like she might actually cry because of how freaking cute that was.
She regained her composure when she felt a piercing cold air on her bare fingers. She put her hands into the pockets of her coat only to realise that she lost her gloves, and it was freezing outside, and she still had at least half a kilometre walk to her flat.
‘Awesome,’ she muttered under her breath.
Penelope felt a tap on her shoulder and she thought her soul had just left her body for good. She didn’t have time to reach for pepper spray nor was she half a decent runner to escape the intruder. She waited for the inevitable when a person revealed his face. It was only Colin. Her life long crush, Colin. Her best friend’s brother, Colin. Her best friend too, if she let herself be bold enough to assume so.
‘Hello, Pen.’
‘Colin! I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘Yeah, I was just walking by and saw you and thought I’d say hi. You’re going home?”
‘Thousand times yes.’
He laughed. She liked the sound of that. It felt nice to hear him laugh at something she said. Even if it wasn’t even a little funny. Still, even Colin’s warm laugh couldn’t prevent her body from shaking from how bloody cold it was.
‘You cold?’
‘I lost my gloves. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry.’
‘Here, take this.’ He handed her one of his blue gloves. Penelope blushed slightly at the gesture but hoped he wouldn’t notice as her cheeks were already pink from the wind. They walked for some time when he suddenly stopped.
‘Wanna hang out? At my place? It’s closer than yours.’
‘Yeah, sounds like fun.’
***
Penelope found herself in Colin Bridgerton’s childhood bedroom for the hundredth time in the past few months looking at him playing some weird video game. Eloise still had classes and Penelope didn’t feel like sitting on her own in their shared flat so she accepted Colin’s invitation to his game session. She was never into such things, not even as a child, not with her mother towering over her shoulder all the time, forcing her into reading educational books instead of some ‘muddling activities’, so she had never played them when she was a kid and now that she’s twenty something years old she just couldn’t find any will in herself to start it. She just didn’t see a point in doing that. Old habits die hard.
‘C’mon Pen, play with me, it’s just Mario Kart.’
‘I can’t.’ He frowned.
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know how. I’ve never done that before.’
‘NO WAY! You’re friends with Eloise and she has never forced you into playing Mario Kart with her?!’
Penelope just looked at him with a small shrug.
‘It’s okay, I’ll teach you. Sit here.’
He tapped a place between his legs on his bed. She blushed. There was no way she would be able to sit there and play a stupid game while Colin's arms were wrapped around her body. But she did as he told her and sat in front of him and took a pad from him.
‘Are you ready?’ She nodded. ‘Alright, you have to press this button to start and those to move…’
***
Penelope was so happy to finally have vacation. As much as she loved journalism and literature, she was more than ready to unwind and rest during her leave. Her newly landed job was intense and so was her new boss. Charlotte Queen did not let anybody off the hook unless they did everything perfectly and Pen freshly out of university had a bit of hard time adjusting.
She was at the annual Bridgertons’ barbecue sitting next to Gregory chatting her ear off with his attempts of flirting (no matter how sweet that was she couldn't really put her heart in it, he was still a kid in her eyes) and trying to ignore the piercing gaze of her mother, who definitely did not approve of her short fitted blue dress. It was too short, too fitting, and definitely too blue, and not yellow enough. She stood up from her seat, took her plate and went to Anthony who was grilling some meat.
‘Classy apron, Viscount Bridgerton.’ He was wearing an apron that said ‘sexy cook’. Probably a gag gift from one of his siblings.
He glared at her but then laughed.
‘Do you want a sausage?’
‘Yeah, I would like one, thank you.’ As he was putting a sausage on her plate she heard her mother's shrieking voice.
‘I don’t think you should be eating that, Penelope, you can skip some of your meals, dear.’
Suddenly she wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. She left her plate on a table next to Anthony and went straight to her seat. Anthony tried to call after her but she ignored him. In another part of the garden, Colin stopped mid track his conversation with Kate about India when he heard Portia’s words. He furrowed his eyebrows on the fact that Pen really listened to her mother and refused to eat. He didn't like it a bit.
‘I’m sorry, Kate, I have something to do.’ She just smiled at him and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Penelope. When she felt her phone buzzing and picked it up from the table, she saw a message from Colin.
Wanna hang out?
yes
She took her handbag and denim jacket and followed him to the entrance of the garden. He gestured to her to get into his car.
‘Where are we going, Col?’
‘Eat.’
‘But we just ate.’
‘No, WE didn’t. I did.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I don’t care. I am.’
Of course he cared and he didn’t listen to her protests, and soon after they were sitting in a car-park eating burgers and chips that Colin got at a drive through.
‘Don’t listen to that shit.’
She snapped out of the haze.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t listen to the shit your mother is saying to you. You’re perfect just the way you are. And you have to eat to stay healthy, Pen.’
She blushed at his words. She knew he didn’t mean anything by that but it still made her heart flutter. If she wanted to get over her crush on him, he really had to stop saying things like that. But that was that and she couldn’t change his feelings nor could she forced herself to stop loving him. She tried and failed. She just had to accept that he simply saw her the same way he saw Daphne, Eloise, Francesca or Hyacinth. His friendship had to be enough.
‘Thank you, Colin, it's nice to have a friend.’
She broke her own heart by saying those words. But this was for the best.
***
In August, Colin, Penelope, Eloise and her new friend Philip, decided to go camping. Their idea was brilliant until they realised that they live in England and it’s bloody raining all the damn time even during the summer. When it wasn’t pouring outside they tried to make the best of their time, but there wasn’t much left to do, because even when it wasn't raining, there was so much water everywhere and so much mud. So really, all that was left to do was sitting in their tents playing some stupid secondary school games.
Penelope was a little bit miserable during this trip because Eloise obviously wanted to hang out with Philip and Pen as her tent roommate had to spend half of her time outside to give them some privacy. After two days, Colin just ordered Philip to switch the tent with Penelope cause there was no point in them getting rid of her every two hours. So for the rest of the stay, she slept in Colin's tent. She was totally cool with it and her heart wasn’t making somersaults at all.
On the last (rainy) night when she was about to go to sleep, Colin broke the silence.
'I want to travel.'
Penelope smiled at him because she knew that for some time now. Well, at least she was suspecting it. She knew he was searching for a purpose and he couldn’t find it in England and he longed for adventure.
'Then do that.'
'I also want to write.'
'Then do that too.'
He looked at her like she was a bit crazy.
'What if I'm not good enough at it?'
'Then you'll get better, no one's born a perfect writer, all of those great novelists and poets had to start somewhere or otherwise we wouldn't know them now. You've got this, Col, I know you do.'
He grabbed her hand in the dark.
'Thanks, Pen, it's nice to have a friend.'
***
In the last week of summer, after Colin's got back for a short break from his almost the two year trip, Pen and Colin decided to make the best of the last few days of warm weather, before the rainy autumn comes back and enjoy their last days in each other's company before he gets back to travelling and she gets back to work.
She looked up from her spot on a blanket and stared at the light pink sky up on the roof of Aubrey Hall. It was getting dark and late as the sun sunk down.
'Do you want to head back?'
Colin was a considerate type of guy in comparison to Eloise, who usually tended to forget about other people and their needs, unless reminded. The two were completely different but Penelope still adored them both equally. Okay, maybe not. She definitely wouldn’t want to jump Eloise’s bones as much as attractive she was.
She looked away from the sky and towards Colin. She didn’t want to burst the bubble they were in. She liked being alone with him. She liked the fact that he listened. Simply listened. And he saw her, the real her. Even though he clearly couldn’t see or chose to ignore how much in love she was with him.
‘No, not really. I mean, there’s no curfew, right?’
He smiled thinking about the one time he actually sneaked into her house, way past the curfew, and almost got caught just because he wanted to tell her about his plans for a gap year.
‘No, there’s no curfew… Wanna play twenty questions?’
‘Is there a need for that? I’m almost a hundred percent sure we know each other better than that.’
‘C’mon Pen, it’s going to be fun, here, I’ll start. What is your book about?’
‘Romance.’
‘And? That’s it? There has to be something more.’
‘That’s another question, Col. My turn. When are you going to send your journals to the publisher?’
‘I’m not sure I am.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Two additional questions, wait for your turn. Have you been sleeping well?’
‘Uhm, sure?’ Colin didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to use your question for?’
‘Yeah. Pretty sure. Also, the unwritten rule of twenty questions is telling the truth, so please, tell me the truth, Pen.’
She licked her lips considering how much of her late struggles she was supposed to share with Colin without lying and worrying him too much.
‘Okay, not so much. It’s the heat, I can’t sleep because of it.’
Technically not a lie. The temperatures were not helping her insomnia.
‘Anyway, my turn. Why do you not want to show the publisher your journals?’
‘Because they need editing and I can’t edit them myself to make them decent enough to be actually published.’
‘That’s bullshit, Colin, they’re already brilliant as they are but if you want, I can help you. Editing is kinda my job anyway.’
He looks at her gratefully.
‘I’d love that.’
He kept looking at her until she asked if he wanted to ask his next question.
‘Oh, yeah, sure, you’ve been stressed out lately?’
‘Sort of, yeah. It’s hard to keep up with the pace at work and my mum is so behind with paying off her loan and she keeps asking for help and my salary stops covering my and her bills. You?’
‘Yeah, me too. But it’s not important, wanna talk about your mum?’
‘No, I want you to tell me why you’re stressed.’
‘I think I want to stop travelling that much. I’m applying for a job here and I’m getting a flat. I’m thinking about settling down.’
She looked away from him. Colin staying in the country was a dream come true but Colin settling down with some woman was like a nightmare coming to life.
‘Wow. That’s a big decision. Good for you, Col. So, who finally convinced you to stay?’
At that moment Colin felt it was the right moment. He didn’t really want to wait any longer. He didn’t know when he realised that he wanted a future with her nor did he understand that. But he did come to his senses and waiting any longer was not an option. He needed her in his life in more ways than as just a friend. He felt that something finally gave him the nerve to touch her hand.
‘You, Pen.’ He whispered. ‘Cause it’s nice to have a friend.’
***
Penelope was walking home to the sound of church bell rings that carried her all the way back. She wasn’t sure if that was a real wedding or maybe her madly in love mind made that up. As she was passing by the old church, she saw the rice on the ground and thought that it actually felt like snow. And she wasn’t delusional after all, some couple really did get married that day.
She was so happy that the weekend has started because it meant at least two and one third of a day with Colin, doing absolutely nothing, just chilling. But then her phone rang and it turned out to be a call from Portia Featherington herself. Penelope was so worn out after the workload she's been having lately that even a thought of her mother’s nonsense idea of family dinner made her want to crawl into a hole and cry. She knew that the meeting would be a mess. She knew that Philippa and Albion would be a bit too loud and detached from reality but not cruel. She knew that Prudence would be making fun of her for everything and Harry would just smile and agree with whatever his wife said. She knew that everything Portia would say would be nothing more than a bunch of bullshit, but her mother did know where to hit so it would leave a bruise. So Pen was more than happy to bail and stay at home.
What she was not so happy about, however, was the fact that her mother would never give her peace, if they ditch the dinner with her side of the family. It felt almost bizarre, using that phrase, because technically Colin was not her husband, not even her fiance and relatively speaking, her family was simply her family, he didn’t have any obligations towards them.
But Colin was a good boyfriend. He knew what a bitch Portia and Prudence could be, and would never allow Pen to deal with them on her own. The years she spent dealing with their crap alone were more than enough, and now that he finally came to his senses about his feelings, he was going to be there to protect her for the rest of their lives.
Colin was looking at Penelope as she was driving to her family house and couldn’t help but notice how tired and distracted she was. She was still driving safely but her sour mood was visible.
‘Hey, Pen, wanna switch? I can drive for the rest of the way.’
‘No, there’s no need to. I’m fine, it’s not a long drive.’
‘Are you sure? I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.’
She really didn’t. Her insomnia kicked back and she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than two hours every night for the last two weeks. She tried to convince him that she was fine, but he could call her bluff at the blink of an eye.
‘Fine, you can drive.’
He smiled at her as she pulled over and gave her a quick kiss as they got out of the car.
‘Thank you, babe.’
***
The dinner was an absolute and utter disaster. Portia Featherington didn’t disappoint with her nagging comments and unsolicited criticism. She knew how much Pen was working and that she didn't sleep well, and yet the only thing she could say to her was that she should start wearing more makeup and that her figure was not suitable for someone with her height. Colin had enough of her bullshit.
‘Penelope is working really hard because Mrs. Danbury offered her a possible promotion but she has to prove herself and she works her arse off, which you should be proud of. And she’s the most beautiful woman in the world and if you can’t see the value of your own daughter, then you’re fucking blind.’
Colin stood up from his chair, grabbed Pen by hand and dragged her out of the fucking madhouse. He was so furious he realised that he hadn’t said a word to Penelope until they were half way through to their flat.
‘I’m sorry, love. I know they're your family but I couldn’t just sit there and listen as they offended my brilliant girlfriend.’
‘No, I wanted to thank you for having my back there.’
‘Everyday.’
Penelope has realised that for a long time now, she stopped associating home with a place but with a person. At this very moment, their old beat up ford was home, because Colin was there with her. She didn’t need her shitty family when she got him. He was more than enough for her. And Bridgertons were a package deal, with one you got the whole bunch, so she knew that she had more people that she could count on, than she could ever dreamt of.
‘What do you wanna do for the rest of the day?’
She thought about his question for a while. She wasn’t in the mood for anything really, she just wanted to lay in bed and maybe sleep. And maybe she wanted cuddles too.
‘Stay in bed.’
Colin looked at her and smirked.
‘Colin Bridgerton!’
He just smiled and kissed her knuckles.
‘We can stay in bed the whole weekend. We’ve got all the time in the world.’
Later, Penelope sighed happily, as she was lying in his arms in her comfortable clothes. It truly was nice to have a friend. And she was bloody lucky that it was Colin.
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summary: you had a really bad day and your boyfriend is there for you
word count: 1,4k
It simply wasn’t your day. Your alarm clock didn't ring on time, so you overslept. You forgot to dry your hair before you went to bed and it was sticking out in every possible direction, so you had to straighten it and you burned yourself. You were late for work, your computer broke, just when you needed to print some important documents for the meeting that was in the next ten minutes. When you were going home you got stuck in traffic and it took you almost an hour to get to your flat. You didn't have time to eat lunch or drink your tea, so you had a completely empty stomach all day, forgot to do the groceries, and finally, while going up the stairs to the fourth floor (the lift turned out to be broken), you fell, bruised your knees and hands and broke the heel of your favorites shoes.
When you finally got home your already bad mood got even worse. The mess you'd left in the morning was bigger than you had remembered, and there was complete silence inside, which meant Harrison, your boyfriend of four years, wasn’t home yet.
Usually you kept things in check. You were the one in charge in your relationship, you were always the one who had everything under control. Especially your emotions. Sure, you loved to share your emotions with your loved ones and cry during movies, but when it came to dealing with adulthood, you had the power.
Usually, but today wasn’t that day. Today you were tired, and everything that could possibly go wrong went exactly like that. Normally you would just ignore it and get on with the things you had to do, but today wasn't normal. Today you were too nervous and frustrated and so damn tired you couldn't keep it cool. Tears began to gather in your eyes as you removed your worn shoes and coat. When you entered the bedroom and threw yourself on the bed, you felt a little better. The smell of your favorite fabric softener, blend of both of your perfumes, and what you could only describe as Harrison's scent soothed your nerves a little.
When Haz came home some time later, he faced a complete silence and a mess he had made before he left. He was surprised that you hadn't cleaned it up when you got home from work. Not because he thought it was your duty as a woman to do the housework, but because he knew your pedantic nature and knew you would clean it up in a second if you were home or you just wouldn't be able to go on with your day if the flat was untidy. Yet Harrison was glad that this time he could do some of the chores and took that responsibility from you.
About ten minutes later, your flat looked like your flat again, and the groceries were put in the right cupboards and then he finally headed to the bedroom to put his phone to the charger. He saw you lying under the pile blanket and heard your soft sobs. He immediately sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking your shoulder.
‘Hi, love.’ When you did not react to his words he put his hand on the small of your back. ‘Come here.’
There was silence for a moment, broken only by your sniffling. Harrison didn't want to overwhelm you, so he waited for any reaction from you, the slightest gesture that would give him permission to approach you. After a minute, however, you came out from under the blanket and climbed onto his lap. Haz wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ In response, you just hid your face in the crook of his neck, and you just sat there for a while. Harrison was worried sick about what might have happened to affect your mood so much, as you slowly calmed down in his warmth, still crying silently. ‘Shhh, you're safe, I won't leave you. Come on, darling.’
Harrison stared at your tiny body resting on his lap and noticed goose bumps on your skin. He took the blanket that was abandoned on the bed long ago, but you pushed his hand away. He looked at you in surprise.
‘I don't want a blanket.’ You croaked. ‘May I have your hoodie?’
Harrison tossed his head back, laughing, but either way taking off the mint hoodie he was wearing. You smiled gracefully as you settled more comfortably on his lap. The truth was, Harrison's clothes were kinda therapeutic for you. You weren't sure if it was because they were more comfortable than yours, or because they always smelled like his perfume, but they were just so soothing for you.
‘Have you eaten today?’ You shook your head as no. ‘So? Chicken with rice? From Sam's recipe?’
‘Yes, please.’ Haz laughed, getting up from the bed and walking towards the kitchen with you still in his arms. You wanted to help in preparing dinner, but he told you to sit at the kitchen island and handed you a mug of warm tea with milk. ‘Thank you darling. For everything.’
Harrison smiled warmly and kissed your forehead. When dinner was cooking your mood started to improve and you weren’t as devastated as you were when you came home. Now that you both were in a much better mood, you were dancing and singing to some random Spotify playlist.
After dinner, you both decided to get some rest, even if only for a moment. It had been a tough day for you, and now that your stomach was full and all the tension left your body, all you could think of was a nap in your boyfriend's loving arms. Haz lay down on the bed after taking off his t-shirt and changing his jeans to causal gray sweats. He wasn't sleepy, but he wanted to give you a sense of comfort, so he covered you with a blanket and lay down on his back, going on his Instagram.
‘Haz?’
‘Hm?’ You looked at him and stretched out your arms towards him. He laughed, pulling you against his chest. ‘Get some sleep, love.’
Moments after that, you were sleeping peacefully in his arms. Harrison lay still to not wake you up as you were the lighter sleeper in the world and he only looked at you with a lovesick smile. No one was aware of how much he fucking loved you. He always knew that, but today’s events, your daily routine, you both getting up, getting ready for work together, having breakfast tea together, knowing that you felt safe in his arms, that he simply was happy with you, made him realize that he wanted to marry you, that he wanted you to be his happily ever after.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Harrison jumped slightly at the sound of your voice.
‘Marry me.’
‘What?’
‘I may not have another chance and the courage to say that. Y/N, you are the most important person in my whole life, you make me happier every day. You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Inside and out. I want to have you by my side forever, I want to start a family with you, have children with you, grow old with yoy. Therefore, marry me.’
You laughed at the mixture of joy, surprise and affection.
‘You shouldn't be laughing! God, I'm so embarrassed right now. I made a fool of myself, didn't I?’ You looked into Harrison's eyes, which had shed with tears.
‘No, Haz, no. Of course you didn't make a fool of yourself. I want to be your wife, I want to have children with you, I want to spend my whole life by your side.’ Harrison put his hands on your cheeks, drawing you to his lips. The kiss didn’t last long but showed all the love and joy you both felt. The kiss was sweet of the coconut balm on your lips, but also salty with your tears.
‘I love you, Y/N. Most in the world. I know this isn’t the proposal you deserve, I don't even have a ring, but I love you and I want you to know that.’
‘I don't need a ring or any romantic gestures. You're all I need. Only you.’
warnings: minor spelling/grammatical errors + fluff
a/n: super excited for the second season 😁😁
the Fourth of July on cousins beach was something else. it was far different from the normal parties at home. there were fireworks for miles at almost every hour of the night. the sky lit up in colors of red, white, blue, and sparkling shimmery gold.
there was nothing more magical than cousins beach lit up under the beautiful dazzling display.
however, you could think of a view much more beautiful to stare at. Jeremiah fisher.
he was one of Susannah’s boys that you began to develop a crush on. you’d seen him lifeguarding the pool from time to time. he’d been on the stand at your very first time at the country club, and while he was rotating around the pool, he crouched down to where you rest against the ledge, “you shouldn’t be in this pool.” he says, a playful smirk forms against his lips, “you’re making my job harder.”
from that point forward, you made it your mission to show up to that damn country club and in whatever skimpy bikini you could find to impress him. it’s what got you invited to the summer bash on the beach with his friends.
“this is Steven, who you’ve met he works at the club, belly, and my brother conrad. guys this is y/n.”
“you come here every summer?” belly asks, she’s the first to whisk you away from the three boys while they searched for the keg or any sightings of drinks.
“no, this is my first time.” you follow her along the sand, allowing the grains to slip into your sandals before situating yourselves towards the water.
“I can see you have an eye for Jeremiah.” belly nudges your shoulder before quickly turning her head in search of the boys. there wasn’t a sight of them for miles, so the coast was clear to chat of them, “he likes you too. he talks about you a lot.”
her emphasis makes you blush. having not known Jeremiah well enough, or even close enough, you’re unsure if he does this often. you’re unsure if it’s compliment that he speaks about you, or if he does this so often it’s annoying for his friends.
you don’t have too much time to question her before Jeremiah is kicking sand in your face and plopping down against the sand beside you. he’s brought two red solo cups, one for you and the other for him.
“thank you.” you smile. you take the cup from his hand, fingers briefly touching, his hand is wet from the condensation of the cup. you’re blushing even harder than when belly was talking about him, and you’re so thankful for the stars and the dark skies to mask it.
“I think shayla is here we should go find her.” belly suggests to conrad and Steven. while the three get up you catch belly’s eyes and she flashes a wink in your direction. you owe her for next time, and you’re sure there will be another.
“so you’ve never seen the fireworks here?” he scoots closer to you, thighs briefly brushing against each other.
you feel the butterflies in your stomach erupt as you look over into his eyes. the stars reflect in them, you can feel your heart beating faster when he looks over at you.
just as you begin to reply, the eruption of the crackles in the sky startles everything in you. you subconsciously jump closer to him, and feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, “I got you, it’s okay.” he chuckles while pulling you almost into his lap.
“I’m sorry I’m not normally scared.” you reply with a chuckle. you’re hesitant to relax against his body. he smells of sun tan lotion and a mixture of cologne, you could get used to that.
he turns his head in your direction. a small smile forms against his lips, “you’re beautiful under these stars.”
you inch closer, eyes glued on his lips. this is the only thing you could ever want. a kiss under the stars, fireworks erupting in the background. you want this.
you wonder what his lips taste like. do they taste like the beer he just drank? or perhaps the cherry popsicle he was previously sucking on that turned his lips bright red. the curiosity was killing you.
“that one’s pretty.” he swivels his head in the direction of the sky, index finger pointed at the golden shimmer against the darkness. you watch them for a moment, how they shimmer and dazzle.
for a moment, you feel the world stop around you. like life beyond you is just background noise and the fireworks are all you can see. you feel like a little kid again, wondering what life was like on cousins at age eight. you wonder how cute Jeremiah was then. you wonder if his family and belly’s did sparklers or cozied up under a fire to witness these very same Fourth of July fireworks.
it’s then when he takes his chance. he gently places his index finger under your chin and turns your face towards him. the curls that brush against his forehead gently tickle your forehead as he leans in. his lips fit like a glove. they taste like a mixture of cherry popsicle and bitter wheat beer he was illegally drinking.
you can feel fireworks in your own stomach erupting. they shoot up and dazzle over and over as he keeps kissing you. his hand is wrapped around the base of your head, fingers tangled in your hair.
“you taste like beer.” you say finally pulling away for air. you feel like you’re floating above water. heart is full of so much joy you’re smiling wider than you ever thought you could.
“is that why you stopped?”
you shake your head brushing a couple of strains of hair that stuck to your face from the wind, “no, I never wanna stop.”
“good,” he pauses for a second, fingers lacing into your hair again, “me neither.”
OMG OMG LISTEN POOKIE IF YOUR UP FOR IT OFC what do you think of a jeramiah fisher x reader thing right but it’s like comforting him cause that boy doesn’t deserve what he’s gone through ☹️ and nobody ever tries to comfort him if your up for it ofc
He really does deserve better! Sorry for the wait! I wrote this whole thing and then the WiFi died as I posted it and I lost the whole thing 🤦♀️
Hope you enjoy this ❤️
Jeremiah x fem reader.
You sat by the pool, drowning in the puffy white deb ball dress all by yourself.
You thought about the events of this evening.
It started at the deb ball, Jeremiah as your escort, Conrad as belly’s.
Jere invited you to cousins this summer, there was space in the house and you were his best friend, since the second grade. The fishers were like family.
He had offered to take you to the ball, even though he’d sworn off dances…he said you were the only girl he’d take, the only girl he’d dance with.
You were so happy, a small part of you thought this was the summer it would happen for you. You finally felt like he might like you back, but this perfect night was ruined.
When it was time for the main dance Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen. Everyone was staring at you, standing alone. Tears spread to your eyes when the music started and he still wasn’t there, people started whispering and pointing. Anxiety found its way into your chest and you ran off the dance floor as the music started.
You opened the doors to the pool and stopped dead when you saw jere, crying on one of the lounge chairs.
“Jere?” You asked.
He only sobbed harder. You sat down next to him and held him tightly, he cried into your shoulder. You’d never seen him this upset.
After a few minutes you pulled away to look at him. You brushed a curl from his forehead and wiped his tears with your gloved fingers.
You held his face. “What’s wrong?” You asked, you’d completely forgotten about the dance, you were worried about him.
“It’s back…” he choked, and showed you an email on Susannah’s phone.
Her cancer was back…….
You didn’t speak, you didn’t tell him it was okay because it wasn’t, you didn’t try to be strong because you weren’t, you held him tighter than before and cried with him.
“I’m here for you, okay?” You choked and stroked his hair and rubbed circles into his back to try calm him down.
He sat up after a while and wiped his face, his eyes were puffy and his cheeks were stained.
“I have to tell Conrad.” He spoke.
“No, no, tell him when we’re home, he’s having such a nice time with belly and-“
He was already walking towards the hall.
You got up as fast as you could in your puffy dress and ran after him, losing your shoes along the way.
“You knew?” Was all you heard as you ran over and before you could even register Jeremiah was punching Conrad and they were both on the floor.
“Jere! Stop!” You screamed along with belly, you leaned forward to try pull them apart but ended up falling to the floor with an elbow to the face.
“What is going on here?” Susannah yelled.
Here you were, sitting by the pool with your gloves and shoes in your lap, crying softly. You heard the Conklin’s crying upstairs through the open window, and the Fisher boys crying in the living room with Susannah, begging her to try.
After what felt like forever, after the house went quiet, Jeremiah came outside with a bag of frozen peas.
“A peace offering.” He sighed.
He sat down next to you crisscrossed, you turned to face him doing the same. He brought the bag up to your eye and you flinched at the cold.
“Sorry.” But you shook him off.
It was quiet for a while, nothing to say.
You lowered his arm and put the peas on the deck.
“You okay?” You knew the answer.
He shook his head, tears filling his water line.
You hugged him again.
“She said she would do the trial.” His voice broke.
You held his shoulders.
“That’s great.” You smiled, tears building in your eyes too. “Is that it?” You asked, knowing there was something else bothering him.
He loved and hated that you knew him so well.
He was quiet for a long time. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to-“
“No-.” He sighed. “It’s just, this summer was supposed to be fun, you know? But Stephen was always with Shayla and Conrad was being a dick, he has been for a while….and belly-“
You squeezed his hand.
“Belly she was giving me these mixed signals and she kissed me-“
Your heart broke but you didn’t let him see, your throat burned and your heart ached.
“Oh…” you let out. He looked at you.
“But I didn’t want to kiss her- she, she’s always liked Conrad and I don’t want to be her second option you know, and it’s like, she’s one of my closest friends and I don’t like her like that, and I don’t want her to get hurt or the girl I actually like to get hurt-“ he stopped himself.
Your heart was beating faster, you felt silly for hoping it was you, he could get any girl he wanted.
You could see he was anxious too. “I brought her here this summer to tell her how I felt, but I just can’t imagine life without her and I’m worried she’ll hate me forever if I mess things up.” He spoke slowly and deeply.
Your heart fluttered.
“You have one less thing you need to worry about, she wouldn’t let this amazing friendship become ruined.”
“Really?” He asked, tears filled his eyes, he was so emotional and anxious it made you sick.
“Yeah…and I think she likes you too.” You whispered. It was your secret, the two of you.
“Good.” He almost smiled, almost.
He leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips, it was gentle and quick, but it lasted long enough to mean something.
You both smiled and cried, overwhelmed with emotion. 
“I’ve waited 7 years for that.” He smiled. You choked a laugh. “I’ve waited 8.” You added.
“Is that so?” He smirked and kissed you again the same way.
He leaned his head on your shoulder and you watched the sun start to peek over the ocean.
You held him tightly.
“All those things you were worried about are all good reasons to be sad you know? Stephen will come around, and so will Conrad, he’s been dealing with this all by himself. And your moms a fighter….all we can do is hope the trial works.” You whispered.
“It’s okay to be sad, you don’t ever have to hide that from me, okay?”
Another tear fell from his eye, and he whispered a thank you. You held him some more.
After a while you stood up and he looked up at you.
“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding so tired.
“We’ve been crying for hours and I’m going to cheer you up.” You shrugged.
He frowned with a smile.
“We’re gonna play that zombie game you love so much and eat junk food and slurpees on the couch, then we’re gonna fall asleep watching avengers for the 100th time, only we’ll cuddle because it’s not against the platonic rules anymore but first…you owe me a dance mister.” You smiled and so did he.
He stood up and put his hands on your waist, yours around his neck.
“Hey Alexa! Play lover by Taylor swift!” He yelled and soon enough music filled the air and you both swayed. It wasn’t a deb ball and it wasn’t perfect, his tie was loose and your hair was a mess but you were both at home.
He deserved the world and you were prepared to give it to him or die trying.
warnings- mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, vomit/throwing up, like one f bomb, established relationship, i dont think anything else
a/n- reader is a pilot lol. hope you all like it and send me any requests you wanna see!!!!
You were tired of vomit. Tired of the smell, tired of the nausea, and tired of the harsh sting it was leaving in the back of your throat. The past three days you had been pulled to consciousness by your uneasy stomach and ended up over the toilet as your alarm blared from the bedroom.
Bradley has had to leave for training extremely early this week and luckily has missed your ugly morning wake-up call. You’d been subtly avoiding his concerns at work; when you looked queasy after conditioning, when Jake’s body wash scent made you gag, and when you barely touched the coffee he brought you one morning. You played it off as a stomach bug, but your intuition was telling you something completely different.
Thankfully this week had been a zero flight week. You were terrified of flying if your suspicions were accurate, but you were also too scared to take the damn pregnancy test.
As you walked down the hall Friday afternoon, doing your best to avoid everyone, you made a pact with yourself that you would stop by the convenience store tonight. Bradley was staying late to help with new flight curriculum so you’d have the opportunity to do it alone.
Part of you wanted to share this moment with him, but your fear quickly overrode that. You and Bradley had been together for years at this point, ever since your first run at Top Gun. He’s mentioned kids a couple times, but never seriously. Deep down you knew he would accept this and be 100% in it, but your anxiety was on blast and your logical thoughts were nowhere to be found.
You were supposed to be heading to a group meeting, all Dagger Squad members present. Your nausea has been steady all day, and hasn't eased up since you puked your guts up first thing. It’s been miserable and your sweaty, pale complexion are a testament to that. You’re trying your best to take deep breaths as you walk through the humid hallway, but your stomach lurches anyway. You grip the wall nearest to you and clench your eyes shut.
Deep breaths. In and out. You wait for the pain to subside before you start walking again. You slowly enter the conference room, looking around. Last one here, great. You shoot a small smile in apology and head to the empty seat next to Bradley.
He gives you a quizzical look as Maverick begins a spiel about next week's itinerary.
“You okay?” He whispers, brown eyebrows pinched.
You inhale sharply and nod, reaching for his hand to squeeze in reassurance. He squeezes in return and tries his best to keep his attention on Mav, but your squirming is distracting. It’s too hot in this cramped office space. You swear you can feel each person’s body heat radiate off them, making your head spin.
Breaths. Deep freaking breaths. You’re trying to concentrate once again on your breathing as Phoenix asks a question, but everything is muffled and distant. You feel Bradley’s eyes seer into you and your jaw clenches unbearably tight.
This is not happening. You refuse. You’ve made it the whole week without getting sick at work, and you really don’t want your closest colleagues and friends to see you hurl in a tiny trash can. Bradley squeezes your hand tighter trying to grasp your attention, but you just stare ahead and will your body to stop.
Fuck. There’s definitely no stopping it. You shoot to your feet, pulling your hand from Bradley’s, drawing everyone’s attention. You briefly hear Mav ask if you’re alright and your hand quickly shoots to cover your mouth as you stumble to the trash can. Your stomach empties and you cough harshly, bent over the small container. You hear chairs screech and boots on the ground and soon feel a familiar hand slide up your back.
Bradley pulls your hair away from your face with his other hand and continues to rub your back, glancing around the room in concern. Phoenix and Bob shoot him sympathetic looks and Jake’s grimace is clear as day.
Mav makes his way over to you, cautiously, and shouts at Javy to get a medic. You raise your hand and wave at him, trying to refuse. You cough again, “I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“You just puked y/n.” Bradley states.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry- just I’m okay now.”
You slowly stand up and Bradley keeps his grip on you, moving you towards a seat. You glance up, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and see the sympathetic looks sent your way. “Sorry,” You sigh.
Javy returns out of breath with the medic and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Y/n I think you should go get checked out,” Maverick says, “Rooster, why don’t you go with her.” He nods his head towards the door and motions for you, Bradley, and the medic to leave the conference room.
Bradley keeps his grip on your elbow as you walk slowly toward the med bay. The medic is asking you basic questions that you are trying your best to answer as vaguely as possible. When you enter the med area you begrudgingly let the medic take your temperature and check your vitals.
“Everything looks okay. I’d just get some rest and head to urgent care if your symptoms get any worse.”
You’re grateful the medic didn’t mention pregnancy and you nod in appreciation as they exit the small exam area.
Bradley sighs and places his hands on his hips. “Let me take you home, honey. Get some sleep.”
You shake your head, “No Roo it’s okay, I promise. You have to stay late anyway.”
You’re avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. You’re not sure why you feel so emotional all of a sudden, but with barely any sleep and vomiting up everything you eat, you’re exhausted. You feel tears prick your waterline as Bradley steps closer to you.
He reaches up and cups your face. It wasn’t always like this. You and Rooster are both stubborn to an unhealthy degree, and when you two got off on the wrong foot all those years ago you never imagined this. He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks, examining you with his eyes.
“What’s going on? You’ve been off all week.” His voice is soft and it only makes you more emotional.
You close your eyes and feel the first tears escape down your face. “I think I’m pregnant.” You whisper.
You keep your eyes shut as you hear him inhale. He grips your face tighter, willing you to open your eyes. When you finally open them, he’s smiling.
“You’re pregnant?”
You shake your head, “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t taken a test yet, but I’ve been sick all week and I can’t remember when my last period was.” You sigh.
His smile only grows. Of course he would be excited. You’re not sure why you were convinced he would be pissed or upset. His reaction only makes you cry more and he tugs you closer into the warmth of his chest.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head and steps back, helping you off the exam bench. “Let's go home, yeah?” He asks.
You nod solemnly and thread your fingers through his, heading to the exit. Bradley lets Mav know you’re sick and he’s taking you home, planning to finish the flight course next week. He helps you into his Bronco and secures your seatbelt for you. He kisses you lightly before closing the door and heading around the car.
On the way back to your shared place he detours to the nearest convenience store and parks out front. Turning to you he says, “I’m gonna run in and grab a few tests. Do you want to come in?”
You shake your head and lean back against the seat letting it absorb your exhaustion. He’s quick inside and jogs back out to the car with a full bag.
“I didn’t know which one to get so I just grabbed a bunch.” He pulls a few out to show you and you laugh at his eagerness.
He smiles at you and places the bag in the back seat, squeezing your knee as he starts the car again.
He turns the radio on low as you watch your surroundings pass by. You don’t know how to feel about all this. Are you even ready to be a mom? You glance at Bradley and take in his tanned skin and light blush covering his nose and ears. He’d be a great dad, you already know it.
You try to shake off some of your anxiety as you head inside. Bradley pulls you close and squeezes your arm, sending you a reassuring smile. You exhale and turn to him, “Will you take it with me?”
“Of course.” He nods and rubs your arm gently.
You head towards the bathroom with the bag full of tests and Bradley fills a cup of water for you. You’re examining all the different tests when he enters and comes up behind you. He rests his head on your shoulder and reads the boxes with you.
You grab the test with the electronic Pregnant or Not Pregnant answer and a generic 2 line test as well. Bradley sits with you the whole time anxiously squeezing any part of you he can touch. You place the tests near the sink and set a timer on your phone.
You both sit in a comfortable yet tense silence. You can tell Bradley is more excited than you are but he’s doing his best to keep himself calm. The phone rings cutting off your anxious thoughts and you both stand together to look at the results.
You grab the line test first seeing two very visible solid lines. You quickly grab the other which coincides with a bold Pregnant flashing at you. You close your eyes and pass the test to Bradley, feeling the waterworks begin.
He gasps slightly and puts the test back on the counter. He laughs as he turns you to face him, “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everythings gonna be fine,” You can hear the smile in his voice as your tears fall faster.
“We’ll figure it out, okay? Hey, look at me.” He cups your face again, your eyes opening to meet his.
“We’re gonna figure it out.” His smile spreads, “We’re gonna be parents holy shit.” You laugh at his excitement and pull him into an embrace.
“We’re gonna be parents.” You mumble into his shirt.
The next morning you head to a local clinic just to get a medical test and see if everythings okay with the baby. You’re given the all clear and relative timeline of birth and growth and everything seems so surreal. Bradley is beyond excited and it’s starting to rub off on you. He spent the whole night reassuring you and brainstorming possible names.
The doctor did let you know that flying is off limits. You feel a bit sad at the loss of flying, but know Mav will keep you busy in other ways. You keep reminding yourself this as you head to his office Monday morning. Bradley and you are hand in hand, him excited to break the news. You knock and hear a muffled “Come in” on the other side. You exhale and squeeze Bradley’s hand as you push the door open.
“Hey y/n, Bradley.” He nods. “Feeling better?” He places the paperwork he was looking at down and looks between you both.
You glance to Bradley who quickly nods his head, urging you on. “About that.” You turn back to Mav’s confused expression continuing, “Um, Bradley and I actually have something to tell you.”
Pete remains silent, questioning you both.
“I’m, uh, not gonna be able to fly for a while.”
His brows furrow, mouth opening to object, but you beat him to it.
“I’m pregnant.”
His mouth drops in shock and Bradley laughs at his expression.
“I- I mean wow. Holy shit!” He laughs. He stands and rounds the desk pulling you into a tight hug and then Bradley. He shakes Rooster’s shoulders as he pulls away and his face is ecstatic.
“I’ll be damned,” He looks between you both again and shakes his head. You glance at Bradley and smile.
Bradley’s grin is contagious and he shouts, “We’re gonna be parents!”
❥ Plot: You and your daughter Rebecca pretend to fall asleep in the car, so Bradley can carry you two inside.
❥ pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x reader
❥ Word count: 884
After a fun late-night family dinner Bradley pulled into the driveway.
Once my daughter and I sensed the Bronco coming to a halt, I stopped talking to Bradley, and my 4-year-old daughter Rebecca stopped singing the taylor swift song on the radio and the car became dead silent.
“I think the vegetable garden idea is great honey. Don’t you think so?” Bradley asked me while he turned off the car engine. “Honey?” Bradley repeated once I didn’t answer him. There were a few seconds of crickets noises until Bradley broke the silence.
“Ohhhh no not this again.” Bradley laughed, realizing that Rebecca and I were pretending to be asleep so Bradley could carry us in.
“Becca you fell asleep on me back there?” The young girl was silent.
“Okay, let’s see who’s gonna be the first one to crack.” A good stillness arose in the car, making it seem as if Bradley was the only person in the car. “You girls better wake up because I’m not carrying anyone inside tonight.” Bradley reclined his seat back,
“Becca.” Bradley called out. “Becca wake up, are you gonna sleep in the car tonight?” He was basically conversing with himself. “Y/n I’m not going to entertain this.” He chuckled.
Bradley let the silence consume the car for a solid minute.
“You girls are too old for this. You two ought to be ashamed of yourself. Especially you y/n.” Rebecca and I clearly weren’t ashamed of anything because we still didn’t speak a word.
“Alright- Let’s get this over with. But this is the last time, you ladies hear me? Last time.” Bradley spoke confidently even though I envision Bradley doing this 6 more times. I hear the car door slam indicating Bradley got out of the car.
“Mommy, we did it.” I hear my little girl giggle from her car seat. “Of course we did.” I snickered with her but we were quick to shut up when we heard Bradley's footsteps. He opens the backdoor to get Rebecca out of her seat.
“Look at my sleeping angel, poor thing must be tired,” Bradley whispered, playing along with the gimmick. He unstrapped Becca out of her car seat and carried her in his arm, he closed the car seat and then proceeded to open my door. Bradley didn’t say anything and I didn’t hear or feel any movement and I could help but smile at the situation. I heard Bradley laugh so that when I opened my eyes and unbuckled my seat belt.
“Bra-Bra I’m gonna be mature about this and I’ll take myself out.” Bradley backed up so I could exit the car. I had a ridiculous grin plastered on my lips when I saw Bradley smirking. I changed the subject, closing the car door.
“The garden would look just fine right here in the front.” Bradley nodded his head. “Neighbors probably would steal our tomatoes so maybe flowers here,” I suggested and Bradley kept looking at me with his smirky lips and his bedroom eyes.
“What?” I cry out not being able to take his stare any longer. In one swift motion, Bradley bent down and placed his hand on the back of my knees, and threw me over his shoulder. “Sorry, it wouldn’t sit right with me if I only carried one of my girls inside,” I responded with a victory chuckle. “ Are you good back there?” He asked walking back to the house. “Yeah, nice view.”
Once we get to the door Bradley speaks again. “This could get dangerous so, Becca I know you're not asleep so do me a solid and hold on to my neck real tight cuz I gotta open the door, sweetheart, Okay?”
“Okay.” The little girl responded. Bradley unlocked the front door and quickly wrapped his arm around Rebecca terrified if she fell. “Here we are,” Bradley said entering the foyer. “Not gonna take us upstairs Daddy?” Rebecca proudly asked. “Yeah Daddy, what's up with this service?” I egged on the idea of Bradley taking us upstairs. “Okay, I will.” Bradley challenged and I placed a hand on his thigh to balance myself as he went up the stairs.
“Now I didn’t even tell her to say that.” I closed my eyes feeling proud of my daughter.
“Baby on my left, wife on my right, which one should I drop?” Bradley joked.
“No, don't drop ussss.” Rebecca whined worried.
“Don’t worry baby girl I won't, I was joking.”
“Well it wasn’t funny, right becca?” I said, trying to get cool points from my daughter.
“Right.” She agreed.
“You back there better stop egging becca on or I will drop you understand?”
“Yes daddy.” I said, I couldn’t see Bradley but I knew he was shaking his head smiling.
We reached the bedroom and Bradley lightly kicked the door open placing both Rebecca and I on the bed.
“Thank you for boarding the Bradley Bradshaw Express, I’ll see you again… never.” He starts to unbutton his Hawaiian shirt. Rebecca stood up off the bed to get closer to Bradley.
“Daddy, can I be upside down next time?” Rebecca asked, and I couldn’t help but erupt in laughter and so did Bradley. “Yeah sure pumpkin… or you could go upside down right now.” He said throwing her over his shoulder.
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Summary: When a woman touches on your husband, and underestimates you, you put her in her place
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You and Bradley walked through the entrance of the hard deck hand in hand. Going to greet the daggers.
“I’ll go get drinks?” you asked, meeting his eyes. “Sound good honey,” he responded to you, also leaving a small peck on your cheek. “I’ll go with you, I need a refill anyways.” Nat said, you nodded in reply.
You both made your way up to the bar and sat on the stools, waiting while Penny took other orders.
“How’d your day go?” Nat asked. “Pretty good for the most part, we had a customer who wanted her meal comped because she ‘Didn’t enjoy it’ but she ate the whole goddamn plate!”
“What the fuck?”
“That's what I said!” you replied.
“No not that, look!” she started pointing in the direction Bradley was in.
There was a woman pressing herself onto Bradley while he awkwardly tried to push her away. “What the fuck.”
You hurriedly made your way over to where your husband was. “I’m not interested, I’m married.” you heard Rooster tell the ginger. “Who says she has to know?” she told him.
“He's clearly married.” You told her picking up his left hand with your right and showing her the gold wedding band. “And bitch who are you?” she asked you. “The wife.” she scoffed. “Please- you're married to this slut?” she asked Rooster.
“One, my wifes not a slut, two, yes I am married to that beautiful woman.”
“She’s far from beautiful.” she insulted, looking you up and down. “And you're far from ever getting a chance with my man.”
She slapped you across the face. The sound echoing throughout the whole bar sent everyone quiet. You lunged on top of her, and managed to get a few hits in before you were being pulled off by Bradley.
“AND IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW BITCH-” “THE BOY IS MINE.” you yelled at her, that girl looked so frightened you almost felt bad, but that’s what she gets. That girl scrambled out of the Bar so fast.
“Baby are you okay?” Bradley turned you in his arms, frowning as he saw the red handprint on the left side of your cheek. “I’m fine, not so sure the other girl is though.” you responded.
“That was so sexy.” he whispered in your ear. “What was?”
“You” he leaned in. “Stop making all us single people feel lonely!” Jake yelled to the both of you.
warnings: language, brief mentions of unhinged celebrity drama I made up because I think it's funny, Bradley being a sweetie, Bradley is 6'7" because I said so
follow the adventures of Bradley and Baby Girl in All Over Tabloids!
“—And then he liked a tweet that was basically about not being over your ex!”
“No!” Bradley drops his jaw overdramatically and you hit his shoulder lightly with a huff.
“If you didn’t care, you could have just said so,” you glare at him with a small pout. “I wouldn’t have told you about it.”
You move to roll off him, but Bradley is faster, wrapping an arm around you and anchoring you to his chest. “Wait, baby girl, I’m sorry. Please, tell me everything about the relationship timeline of Shawn Mendes and Cathy Bates, I want to know all about it.”
“I can tell when you’re being facetious, Bradley,” you scoff.
“‘Facetious’? What is this? Fucking Harvard?”
You can’t help but giggle when Bradley starts peppering ticklish kisses into the crook of your neck and you shove his head away with a laugh. “You’re annoying.”
“Maybe,” Bradley grins, placing another—much more nibbly—kiss on your pulse point. “But you’re dating me so…”
“I’m a Swiftie, Bradley. I make regrettable dating choices sometimes,” you argue, moving to get comfortable on his chest again.
Bradley suddenly sits up though, quickly ruining your efforts. “Hold on, which ‘regrettable dating choice’ do you think I am?”
“I don’t know... Joe Jonas?” You turn to him with a shrug.
Bradley’s mouth drops. “Joe Jonas?”
“He’s one of the better ones! He’s with Sophie Turner now, she’s super cool! Wouldn’t you wanna be with Sophie Turner, big guy?”
“No, I don’t want to be with Sophie Turner, I want to be with you,” Bradley pouts, tightening his grip around your waist. “I can’t believe you think I’d break up with you in a 27 second phone call.”
You let out a gasp. “I did not say that! ...It would be a 5 minute phone call, at the very least.”
“You know what? No. I am not Joe Jonas,” Bradley moves you off of him suddenly, getting up from the bed to rifle around his sock drawer.
You sit up on his mattress, unsure if you accidentally took things too far as Bradley mutters to himself under his breath. After a few more minutes of searching—and right when you’re about to speak up and apologize—he turns back around, tossing a small white box onto the bed. You gasp when you recognize the signature turquoise ribbon tied around it.
“It was meant to be a surprise, but since you wanted to be a brat, you’re getting it now,” he tells you as you untie the ribbon delicately. “So I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“Bradley…” You tear up at the sight of the dainty necklace lying in the box and you trace over the engraved “B” lightly.
Bradley balks when you cover your mouth with a shaky hand. “Wait, baby girl, don’t cry. I was just kidding, you’re not a brat. Fuck, I’m sorry—”
“No, honey, this is—” You wave him off, taking the piece of jewelry out from the Tiffany’s box. “Come here so I can kiss you— No, wait! Will you help me put it on?”
Bradley’s thick fingers brush against the back of your neck as you pass the chain to him, and he fiddles with the clasp for a second. The necklace sinks onto your skin once he’s finished and you shiver when Bradley presses a kiss to the base of your scalp. Your fingers lift to fiddle with the pendant and you giggle happily before turning to pounce on your boyfriend.
Bradley lands on the mattress with a muffled thud, his own set of giggles spilling out when you attack his face with kisses.
“How’d you know I wanted this?” You ask against the bridge of his nose.
Bradley snorts. “You play Call It What You Want every time you get in my car, baby girl. I am capable of taking a hint.” You’re already grinning before he can finish, lunging onto him again, and Bradley laughs. “I take it you like it?”
“I love it. I’m never gonna take it off, ever, ever.” You promise, hugging him tightly.
Bradley’s hands move down to grope your ass gently and he hums, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and smiling at the new feeling of cool metal against his cheek.
“Okay,” you unlatch yourself from Bradley to cup his cheeks, pressing a quick peck on his lips. And then another. “You’re my Joe.”
Bradley’s mouth drops in disbelief. “After that, I’m still Joe Jonas?”
“No, silly, Joe Alwyn,” you laugh, looking down at him with eyes crinkled in happiness.
“Oh.” Bradley blushes, pinching you through your leggings. “You did that on purpose.”
You grin, reveling in the feeling of Bradley playing with the small charm of your necklace between his finger and thumb. “See? You really know me,” you whisper against his lips.
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