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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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rafe showing up to where ever you work to bug the absolute shit out of u

i love writing rafe like this omg he has my heart 🫶🏻

out of the corner of your eye you watch, in slow motion, a basket of tennis balls topple over, sending them bouncing all over your workspace behind the reception desk of the country club.

"fuck off," you mumble under your breath, forcing yourself out of your spinny chair. as you bend down to pick them up you hear the doors slide open, "i'll be with you in just a minute!" you chirp

a low whistle, that's all too familiar to you, follows, "take your time, the view i have is perfect" rafe hums. rolling your eyes, you realise he probably has a straight view up your tennis skirt

you stand up, arms full of neon green balls and smile at your boyfriend, “hi baby,” you dump the balls back into the basket and lean over the desk for a kiss

rafe kisses you quickly, lots of small, separate kisses that leave you both smiling against each others lips. leaning on the counter you stare up at your boyfriend, “what’re you doing here?” you ask

he shrugs, “got bored, wanted to see you, see what you do” he admits with a sheepish grin. nodding, you step back from the counter, sitting back down in your chair before rolling towards the computer

“okay, mr cameron, what can i help you with today?” you giggle, “we have a golf course, tennis courts, steam rooms, a spa?” you list off just a few of the options the country club has to offer

rafe moves around the desk, into your work space, “actually, just hanging out here is fine” he stands behind your chair, solid muscle bumping the back of your head as he does.

you tilt your head back to look up at him, “you’ll get me told off for being back here, rafe” you scold but there’s no heat behind it. his eyes follow the mouse around the computer screen as you turn to check who’s booked in, for what courses, for the rest of the day

scanning over familiar names you temporarily forget rafe is behind you, until he starts bouncing a tennis ball up the wall. you startle at the thump and turn in your chair, “rafe,” you hiss, reaching out to grab the ball before he can catch it

he raises an eyebrow at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reaches into the basket to get another, promptly throwing it up the wall, “they can’t tell you off, i basically own this place” he smirks

“no, your family do, not you” you shoot back, grabbing the second ball from him. you snatch the basket off of the side and hide it under your desk, down by your feet, “behave”

you turn back to the desk as the doors slide open again, “hello, we have court seven booked” you nod and start to type, checking the timetable again

rafe takes your moment of distraction as his chance, he dips off into the office behind the reception almost immediately. he scoffs to himself at the opportunities in front of him.

he throws himself into the spinny chair, turning a few times for good measure before wheeling himself across the room to a table full of hats, swimming caps and goggles. in an instant he’s pulling open packets, snapping a cap onto his head, goggles neatly going over them as he snickers to himself

“having fun?” you ask, doing your absolute best to stifle a laugh. leaning in the doorway you watch as rafe turns to you slowly, “you look ridiculous”

offended, he gasps and snatches the cap off of his head, wincing when it snags on his hair. he wheels his way over you, only stopping when you’re stood between his legs, your hands find his shoulders

“are you kicking me out?” he asks seriously, blue eyes staring up at you. his hair hangs in his view so you gently push it back, scratching his head gently as you go

you pretend to think, watching a frown form across his face, “no you can stay for a while, i guess” you sigh dramatically, though you know he can see the small smile on your face.

giggling you walk backwards to your desk “plus, topper and kelce are booked in for golf soon, they can babysit you for a while”

“but i don’t want to play golf” rafe groans and wheels himself to the other end of the desk to where you are in your chair. his ring clangs off of the counter as he grips it, pushing off of it to spin himself around

shrugging, you lean down, grabbing a tennis ball from the hidden basket. he builds speed too fast, just a blur of your boyfriend in front of you. before you can stop yourself, you’re throwing the ball at him

mixing his speed with the way you lob the item at him, it hits his shoulder, pinging off across the reception, bouncing off of tables and chairs from the cafe, “oh fuck” you laugh, slapping your hand over your face

rafe slows to a stop, attempts to stand but fails, falling back down into the chair with a moan, “i feel sick” he grimaces

“buckle up, buttercup, i just spotted topper’s car pulling in”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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Assigned Seat (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: JJ won’t sit in the correct seat because it’s not next to you

Tags: fluff, mutual crushes, lots of flirting, JJ being cute, slightly oblivious reader, getting together, everyone ships, just cute fun fr

A/N: binged obx and this is my first fic for it and of course I had to write for JJ- he’s my fave. also, it’s s2 when school starts but let’s say they know that john b is alive before the first day of class bc I don’t want this to be angsty lol

cross-posted to ao3 • obx masterlist • writing masterlist

First day back in your first class of the day—Mr. Sunn’s history class—and you were greeted with a seating chart. Usually, you would just sit with your friends, but now you saw that Pope and Kiara weren’t in the same row like they usually would’ve been when you all shared a class. You didn’t even see JJ at all yet. You wondered if he’d show up. It was the one class that you actually had with him, so you hoped he would. Otherwise you wouldn’t see him until lunch break.

You found your seat with ease, but gave Kie a light frown when she turned around and saw you weren’t anywhere close to her or Pope.

About a minute before class was about to start, JJ walked through the door. He spotted you and grinned. He headed for the empty seat beside you and dropped down in it.

“Hey,” JJ greeted. “I was almost late but here I am.”

You laughed a little (mostly because of how proud he sounded). “Yeah, I see that.”

“So, what’s up?” he asked, side eyeing Kie and Pope. “Are we avoiding them for some reason or…?”

“What? No,” you replied quickly. “Appreciate that you were instantly on my side, though,” you said with an amused tone.

JJ smiled at the comment. “I appreciate the appreciation.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled back nonetheless.

“If you two are done flirting, perhaps Mr. Maybank could move to his correct seat and we can get class started,” Mr. Sunn called out suddenly. You and JJ both were startled, realizing he was talking to you

JJ furrowed his brows. “Correct seat?” he whispered. “What is he talking about?”

“There’s a seating chart,” you muttered back, finally remembering.

“What?” JJ asked a little louder. “That’s lame,” he grumbled.

“Well, tough,” Mr. Sunn replied, clearly having heard. “And according to my lame seating chart, you’re on the other side of the room.”

“It’s an empty seat,” JJ pointed out.

“Actually, it’s Mr. Kane’s seat,” Mr. Sunn gestured towards a boy standing near you guys that you embarrassingly enough just now noticed.

“Well, great, he can have my seat,” JJ suggested with that cheeky smile of his.

Mr. Sunn looked from JJ to you. “You must be something special, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ve never had someone fight so hard to keep a seat.”

All you could do was laugh awkwardly, very aware of all the eyes on you. You gave JJ a look, asking for him to save you from being the center of attention on the first day. The only way he could was by relenting.

With a sigh that you would deem dramatic, JJ stood and grabbed his backpack. Mr. Sunn held up the seating chart paper. Everyone watched as he went to the front of the class and glanced at the paper, and then found his actual seat on the opposite side of the room.

“You can see your girlfriend after class,” Mr. Sunn commented in response to your friend losing the argument.

You weren’t his girlfriend, but neither you or JJ corrected him. You didn’t because frankly, you’d gotten your fill of attention. You weren’t sure why JJ didn’t, though.

Besides, you weren’t totally against people thinking that. It was still weird having a teacher call you out like that, though.

The kid who had been waiting for JJ to vacate his seat gave you an apologetic look before turning his attention to pulling out a notebook.

You made eye contact with JJ across the classroom and he winked.

“Now that everyone is in their correct seat,” Mr. Sunn announced. “We can get started with class.”

Everyone turned to focus on Mr. Sunn going over the first day syllabus, except for Kie. You caught her looking at you and you met her eyes. She raised her brows as if to ask, “what was that?”

You shrugged, telling her that you didn’t know. It was true, you didn’t.

After class, no one brought it up so you didn’t say anything about it either. You all went about your day and soon, the whole seat incident left your mind.

The next day you were reminded of it.

You arrived to history with Pope, chatting about the syllabus and what supplies you still needed to get. Kie was already in class. You said hi and then bye and headed to your seat. JJ was the last to show up, cutting it close again. You gave him a small wave, assuming you weren’t going to get to talk to him until after class.

Except, he walked right up to you and sat down next to you.

You raised your brows at him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, hello to you too,” JJ acknowledged with a light chuckle.

“He’s gonna tell you to move again,” you predicted.

JJ shrugged it off. “Like some seating chart is gonna keep me away from my favorite girl,” he retorted in a playful tone.

You smiled, ready to go along with his flirting. “Favorite, huh?”

He put his elbow on his desk and leaned on his hand. “What, you didn’t know that? I coulda swore I made it obvious.”

You hummed, ready to hit back with a sly comment. Until you were interrupted.

“Is this going to become a daily occurrence?” Mr. Sunn’s voice tore you and JJ away from the gaze you held. You both looked to the front of the class, where he stood watching you two. “I believe you know your correct seat, Mr. Maybank.”

“I forgot, actually,” JJ lied easily. “I’m pretty comfortable here, though.”

Mr. Sunn rolled his eyes and held back any indication that he found the situation as funny as you did. “I can’t have my students revolting,” he decided. He pointed to JJ’s assigned seat, waiting for him to move.

“It’s only 45 minutes, JJ,” you told him. “I think you can survive.”

“Fine, fine,” he told you and Mr. Sunn. He got up and moved to his seat. The boy that sat next to you came out of nowhere and took the seat.

After class, you met up with your friends. You were about to walk with JJ to the hall where both your next classes were, but Kie decided something different.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” she announced. “Y/N- come with me?”

Except you didn’t really feel like she was asking.

“Um, sure,” you agreed and headed off with her in the other direction of the boys.

“Why do girls always do that?” JJ wondered, watching as the two of you turned a corner.

“Girls just do that,” Pope explained. “This time they’re going to talk about you, dude. For sure.”

“About me?” JJ furrowed his brows. “What about me?”

“About how you like Y/N and that it’s totally obvious now. To everyone.”

JJ just shrugged. He thought everyone already knew. The only person he really wanted to know was you, but you never seemed to think he was serious. You always flirted back and that was fun, but maybe he had to up his game.

Oddly, no one brought up the seat incident yet again as a group. Kiara and Pope did observe you and JJ closer, but even if the flirting was a little more obvious, it didn’t go beyond that.

Next day in history, it was a repeat of the previous days.

“I’m starting to think you like me,” you joked to JJ when he sat down beside you.

“It took you this long?” he responded teasingly. You tried to not read into it, not wanting to get your hopes up. Not realizing that he was hoping you would read into it.

Mr. Sunn looked up from his desk when the bell for class to start rang. Immediately, as if in a force of habit, his eyes landed on you and JJ. Once again he would have to start the class period by telling JJ to move.

“You must have amnesia,” Mr. Sunn directed towards JJ. Everyone knew that, he didn’t have to say his name.

You and JJ exchanged a look and a small laugh. You’d gotten over any level of embarrassment that came from people chuckling and eyeing you and JJ.

“Can’t you just make an exception?” JJ asked. He was bargaining but didn’t have anything to offer.

Kie threw a smirk over her shoulder at you, but you avoided eye contact.

Yesterday she had spent the “bathroom” trip convincing you that JJ really did like you—as more than just a friend. She knew you liked him, but also knew you were avoiding telling JJ. You didn’t want to mess with your friendship by making what you had always assumed was just friendly banter into something awkward and feeling like an idiot for thinking it was some kind of signal if it wasn’t.

If she hadn’t sworn to JJ that she wouldn’t tell you how he felt, she would have cleared it up yesterday. But of course you didn’t know that.

Mr. Sunn’s lips pulled into a tight line. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed or amused. “If you’re next to her, how can I expect you to pay attention in class?”

At that, the whole class chuckled. Even you. At least Mr. Sunn had a good sense of humor.

JJ blushed a little at that. You hadn’t seen him flustered like this in… well, it had been a long time. He couldn’t think of a comeback as quickly as he usually did. Too many seconds passed for him to recover, so he had no choice.

JJ grabbed his backpack. “I’ll see you after class,” he promised.

“You always do,” you replied just loud enough for him to hear as he stood. He shot you a smile before walking over to his assigned seat.

Class moved slowly, although at least the subject was mildly interesting compared to your other ones this semester.

When the bell rang, you waited for your friends and you all walked out of class together.

“JJ, are you trying to get in trouble?” Pope asked, almost accusingly.

JJ scoffed out a laugh. “Don’t be dramatic, I’m not gonna get in trouble over a seat.”

“Interesting that you keep going for a seat that’s right next to Y/N,” Kiara mused in a knowing tone.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” you told her, but not in a serious way. You and JJ flirted but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable by her comments, implying that there was more.

Turns out it was the opposite. You didn’t see the way JJ looked at you. You were focused on the eye roll Kie gave before saying bye and heading to her next class. Pope followed suit, leaving you and JJ to walk to your next classes together.

“Y’know, if Kie wants to think… that,” JJ started, referencing her very obvious implication. “Or if anyone else does… I wouldn’t mind.”

You stared up at him, a bit taken aback. You and JJ had always been close and flirted, and even though you had a crush on him and all your friends were convinced he had a crush on you, neither of you brought it up or confronted it. JJ was taking the first step.

“I wouldn’t mind either,” you admitted, smiling lightly.

JJ looked surprised, then relieved. “Really?”

You only let out a small laugh, “I’ll see you later,” you told him. You were about to walk to your class further down the hall, but stuck around for a moment longer. “Tomorrow, just sit in your seat,” you suggested. “Mr. Sunn is a chill guy but it’s gonna be a long year if we start off annoying him.”

“We’re not annoying,” JJ faked offense. “But yeah, alright,” he relented. “I guess I’ll just have to stare longing across the class,” he teased.

Your smile grew. “Yeah, I guess so,” you replied smoothly. Then, you walked away towards your class.

“We’re still meeting up with Pope and Kie later, right?” JJ called after you.

“Yeah,” you called back, not looking over your shoulder.

You hung out with your friends later and gone about your day. You and JJ of course flirted, but nothing more than usual. Pope didn’t bring it up again and Kiara just shot you knowing smirks.

Next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, much to your surprise, when JJ walked into class he gave you a light wave and continued on to his assigned seat. He was following your advice, which was a hard thing to get JJ to do. You looked over and realized he was standing near where his seat was.

And that someone was already in it.

The guy who was supposed to sit by you was in JJ’s seat. Meaning there was an empty seat right beside you.

JJ looked over his shoulder at you and grinned. He waltzed over, suddenly in a much better mood.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked you cheekily.

You looked past him to see the guy in JJ’s seat. He gave you a shrug and a look that said, “you’re welcome.” You almost laughed.

“I guess not,” you answered JJ, looking back at him with a smile of your own.

He sat down in the seat, victorious.

Mr. Sunn walked in when class started and went to the board.

“I see my words mean nothing to you, Mr. Maybank,” Mr. Sunn said, spotting JJ.

A smirk crossed your friend's face. “Actually,” he started, perking up. “My seat was taken.”

Mr. Sunn looked at JJ's actual seat and sighed. The kid looked a little guilty but didn’t say anything. He looked back at JJ. “Fine, you win,” he decided. Then, he began to write on the board.

After class, you and JJ parted from Kie and Pope to walk together to your next class.

“I can’t believe he finally gave in,” you said with a laugh.

“I can be persuasive,” JJ replied smoothly.

You let out another laugh. “That was not persuasive. That was…I don’t know what that was,” you admitted.

“Fine, but I got what I wanted,” JJ revealed. It was no surprise, but there was something underlying in his tone.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” you held your hands up in surrender. The two of you stopped outside of your class and faced one another.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I would hope not.”

“I’ll see you later,” you told him. “Don’t miss me too much,” you decided to add on.

“Oh, baby, I always do,” he played along casually.

Your face felt warm at the nickname, but you didn’t say anything more. When you all hung out later, the interaction played through your mind.

You were too distracted to realize JJ was staring at you all night—or at least that’s what Kie had told you later.

The next day in Mr. Sunn’s class, JJ was there before you. You couldn’t remember the last time he was ever in a class before you. You walked to your seat and he smiled up at you.

“Hi there,” you greeted, sitting down beside JJ. “For once you actually came to class early,” you pointed out.

“Well, I had a reason to,” JJ replied with a smile. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You chuckled, thinking of a joke. “Do you need an alibi?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. “I’m serious though.” Your expression turned confused. “Not like, serious serious. Don’t look so worried.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“After school today would you wanna hang out? Just me and you?” JJ asked with a hint of nervousness.

“We hang out all the time,” you started knowingly. “So if you’re asking…” you mused, suppressing a smile (you were having a hard time with that, though). “Is this you asking me on a date, JJ?”

“Maybe,” JJ said with a tad of nervousness. “Would you want to?”

“Yeah,” you answered without hesitation. You could’ve held out longer and maybe messed with a little, but you decided against that.

JJ looked pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

In your head, you were beaming with excitement. Out loud you confirmed, “it’s a date.”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Mr. Sunn called to you and JJ, interrupting. “But since it seems important, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind sharing with the class.”

“Well, I’ve got a date later, so that’s pretty great,” JJ practically bragged, not missing a beat. “As for how that goes, I don’t kiss and tell.”

JJ shot you a wink after that, Kie and Pope looked over their shoulders so fast you thought their heads were gonna spin, and Mr. Sunn actually looked impressed.

“About time,” someone in the class spoke up. It was an unfamiliar voice. When you located the source, you found it was the boy in JJ’s old seat.

And what did you do? Well, all you could do was let out a laugh and share a smile with JJ.

You had a feeling this class was going to be much more fun now—although, maybe not as much fun as your date with JJ.

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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AND IM NOT SUPPOSED TO SHIP THIS PLS LMAO BITCH THIS SHIT MY MAGNUM OPUS

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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kie is stronger than me, no way i could’ve resisted rafe in the same room as me looking that good

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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Omg pop off with the fics!! Omw to read the Rafe fic rn!!! 🤍

Okay not a request but I just read part one of Cruel Summer and I’m obsessed oml!! Reader and JJ’s chemistry is *muah* and I’m obsessed w the way they met. Thank you for blessing my feed🙌

AHHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I just posted part 1 of a Rafe fic too! We've got it GOING with fics over here dude I'm so excited❤️

Thank you for the love!!!

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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Crying, like actually

Heart Of Gold, Hands Of A Healer

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

TW:none, just tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Bradley never knew how much he needed love and affection until you gave it to him.

Word Count:2.8k

A/N: Okay lets hope it doesn't cut off this time bc I'm at my wits end

Bradley Bradshaw doesn't consider himself a soft, lovable man. He keeps barbed wire around his heart, isn't very affectionate, and drops his life at the drop of a hat when the Navy comes knocking.

He's large and broad, his body is littered with scars, and his hands are calloused from years of working on his car and flying F18s. When he does have a girlfriend, they never stick around for long. They soon realize he's not a project that can be fixed and lose interest.

They always want to settle down and get married, and they can't handle his closed-off emotions and unwillingness to have anything permanent. So they cut and run, and Bradley lets them. He figures they want him to chase them, fall to his knees in the rain, and beg them to stay. He never does.

He concluded he's got too much baggage, not that anyone ever stuck around long enough to help him unpack it. Women don't like his battered, imperfect body. Sure, he's got abs that rival a greek god, but it's flawed with imperfections that they never cared to get the story behind.

Until he met you.

You blew into his life like a warm summer breeze, and he realized he hadn't been breathing his entire life. You disarmed him in an instant without him even noticing. The cage around his heart fell apart, and he let you in without a second thought.

You make him feel safe and adored, and the weight of his past melts away when you're with him. The second his eyes land on you, the tension dissolves from his body. His shoulders drop a bit, his joints stop aching, and his jaw unclenches.

His dentist has been on him for years about incessant teeth grinding at night, and it turns out the solution is sleeping next to you. He never knew how much he craved affection, but the second your soft hands grazed his flesh, he was hit with the realization that he needs your touch more than air.

He's like a giant next to you, his frame looming over your body when he hugs you. He's frequently found holding your hand up to his, marveling at how your fingers only extend an inch or two beyond his palm. Those hands he loves so much, capable of bringing them to his knees despite the fact he makes fun of you and says they're no bigger than a child's.

You find beauty in all of his scars and scrapes, taking time to get the story behind even the most insignificant mark that even he forgot exists. You make him feel important, always listening intently as if he's telling you the most exciting thing you've ever heard.

You always take your time worshiping him, your fingertips tracing the plains and valleys of his tender skin with feather-like pressure as if they're roadmaps to someplace sacred only you know about.

He's never been particularly insecure; that's not the word he would use to describe it. He just doesn't like the marred places on his body, tissue built up from where it was torn open. A silvery reminder of everything he's been through.

He confessed he thinks his scars are ugly one evening, and you looked at him with such revere that he felt love for himself blossom deep in his bones.

He's never seen himself as anything other than damaged goods, yet you see him in such a beautiful light he can't help but let it shine through him.

You and Bradley have only been official for a couple of weeks, yet it feels like he's known you for a lifetime.

You're sitting at the hard deck, and he notices you staring at the side of his face.

"See something you like?" He jests, but your face remains serious.

You reach out gingerly, almost afraid he'll jump back, and trace the scar on his jaw. Your fingertips leave a trail of fire, and he freezes.

"No one has ever done that before."

You look at him curiously, your forehead scrunched and your head tilted.

"Why not?"

He shrugs shyly and averts his gaze.

"I think they're ugly, and I guess other people do too."

You shake your head and lean forward to press a chaste kiss to the place your hand just was.

"They're part of you, Bradley. Evidence of a life lived. There's nothing ugly about that."

You lay together on the bed that night as he took you on a journey through his life, tenderly loving each of his scars, both mental and physical.

Your lips press barely there kisses on each mark that graces his face and neck, and Bradley allows his eyes to flutter closed. He revels in the feeling, electricity crackling just under the surface every time your mouth touches him.

"Beautiful." You whisper, and Bradley finds himself agreeing. Not because he thinks the tattered skin is special but because he now associates it with you.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask, lips tracing a two-inch long line on his palm.

"Cut myself with a butter knife in second grade." He responds, voice soft like rain in the fall.

"And this one?" You're now focusing on a raised welt on his pectoral, the old mark barely visible. If you didn't know to look for it, you'd miss it. He pushes away the idea that you pay such close attention to him that you were able to pick up on it anyway; the thought makes him want to cry.

"Paintball to my bare chest at close range. My buddy and I did it on a dare in high school."

You hum contentedly and continue on your path.

"What about this?"

Your finger taps his knee, and he smiles softly.

"Varsity baseball. I was known for sliding into home, and one day I caught a piece of gravel."

You smile fondly at the visual and glance up at him.

"Will you show me pictures sometime?"

He swallows thickly and then nods.

He isn't usually one for reminiscing. That was around the same time Carol got sick, and he's never let anyone into that part of his life. He knows you're different; if he told you no, you wouldn't push the subject.

He wants to share those memories with you, and he wants you to know his parents the way he did. It doesn't hurt so bad when you're the one he's talking to about them.

You let him share at his own pace, never expectant and always allowing him to stop whenever he gets uncomfortable. He feels lighter, and he supposes it's because you've seen the darkest parts of him.

Instead of running, you took his pain gently in your hands as if to say, 'Let me help you carry this. You don't have to be crushed under the weight of your grief anymore.'

Your heart is pure, and Bradley has never felt love like yours. It's all-encompassing, wrapping him in golden light and promising never to let him be shrouded in darkness again.

You're lying on his chest, watching as he flips through old photos and albums. Your hand rubs the scar on his palm absentmindedly as he explains each and every one to you. So many women have refused to even acknowledge the marks that glimmer when the light hits them just right, yet you find comfort in them.

"This one was taken a couple of weeks before my dad passed." He explains, and you smile fondly at the image of little Bradley sitting atop Goose's shoulders as he and Carol laugh. You can feel the joy radiating from them and reach out to stroke the laminate paper carefully.

"You look like them. You have your dad's eyes and mom's smile. I can see where you get your goofy and bubbly personality from. They live through you."

You don't realize how much weight those words carry at the moment, and Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn't think he's a bubbly person, but every time you laugh at one of his corny jokes or smile at him like he hung the moon, he starts to believe it more and more.

"How did they meet?"

You're not paying him much mind, and that's what gets him. You're not trying to be sweet and thoughtful; it's just who you are. There's no ulterior motive or desire to figure out why he's so fucked up just to fix him.

You just want to know about him and how he came to be. It's completely innocent, an act of pure love, and he can't imagine how he got by all these years without you.

"They were both from Virginia originally. They met at mom’s job, and she always said that she didn't notice dad at first, even though he was completely smitten. Apparently, she turned him down a few times, but he kept showing up and making her laugh. I don't entirely believe that, though."

You move to look up at him through your lashes and kiss his jaw.

"Why don't you believe it?"

The question is simple, yet it causes his heart to swell. You genuinely care and want to know more. He'll never get over the fact that you listen when he tells you stories and ask more questions because you're interested in the answers.

"Mom always looked at him like he was her whole world. I can't imagine a time that she didn't see him in that light, even in the beginning. She never even glanced at another man after he died, so I like to believe they were meant to be from the start."

You hum and look back down as he turns to a new page.

"Kind of like us."

He chuckles, and you grin as his chest rumbles under your cheek.

"Like us?"

You roll your eyes playfully and take in the picture of Carol kissing Bradley on the cheek as he grimaces. He can't be any older than five or six.

"I've been head over heels since the second I met you, Bradley Bradshaw."

His breath hitches, and he hesitates for a second.

"It wasn't love at first sight? You had to meet me first?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Well, of course I noticed how handsome you are. But that's not what got me. It was your energy. You lit up the room without even knowing it. You're this ball of light, yet you don't see it. Usually, men who look like you and have a job like yours are insufferable assholes."

He snorts at this and nods.

"Hangman." He murmurs, and you slap his arm lightly.

"Be nice. Anyway, you're genuine and kind. It's always the most radiant people that are hardest on themselves. As soon as you said your name, you had me hook, line, and sinker. I wanted to know every last thing about you, and I'll never get tired of learning who you are."

You barely finish your sentence before he captures you in a searing kiss. You melt into him instantly, and he wonders how he managed to fall in love with an angel.

"Tell me more about them. The good parts that you think of when you want to smile." You mutter, and he looks down at you.

"On Sundays, we always had breakfast together. Dad would make french toast from scratch, and I would help mom squeeze oranges for fresh juice. We always laughed and made a mess, then cleaned it up together. I miss it."

He has a wistful smile, and you kiss the corner of his lips.

"That sounds nice."

He nearly sobbed when he woke up to the smell of syrup the following weekend and found you making french toast with bacon in the kitchen. It's something else you share now, the two of you dancing around each other as you sing 80s songs and giggle.

The Dagger squad walked in on it one day, and they were adopted into the tradition too. They love how Bradley is around you and quickly noticed that you always seem to be touching him somehow.

Whether you're rubbing soothing circles on his skin, resting your legs over his, or playing with his hair, you're always showing some form of physical affection.

One night while cuddled on the couch, Bradley almost melted into a puddle.

You're only half watching the movie on the TV, your hands running through Bradley's curls while his head is in your lap. That's another thing, Bradley loves being held.

Without thinking, you scratch your nails against his scalp and feel him instantly nuzzle further into your thighs.

"Do that again, please."

You do as he asks, and he lets out a soft groan.

"That feels nice. I don't know the last time someone has done that."

He's practically drooling as he says it, and you continue without another word.

He falls asleep not long after, and you smile down at the man who carries the world on his shoulders.

You always seem to know when Bradley needs a hug or to be the little spoon. He doesn't know how you do it, but you'll never catch him complaining.

Like tonight, you just seem to know what he needs even if he doesn't. His feet are heavy as they carry him to the front door of your shared home, and he heaves a sigh before swinging the door open.

It's like you know what kind of day he had, and without a moment's hesitation, you're standing in front of him, ready to take the weight off.

Your arms wrap around him, and he leans into you instantly. You shift slightly to support him and rub your hand up his back.

"Let's take a bath."

He doesn't respond other than a nod against your neck, and you lead him to the bathroom.

He watches as you run a bath with bubbles and salts before stripping down. He sits still as you take his boots off his screaming feet and carefully remove his uniform.

As soon as he's naked, you climb into the bath together, settling into the large garden tub.

You wash his hair as he leans back against you, and he shutters at the sensation. You rub shampoo into the chestnut strands, your nails scratching his scalp the way he loves every so often. He lets you work as the stress seems to be rinsed away with the suds.

The two of you stay there in silence until the water is cold. You don't pry for details, and he's grateful. He doesn't like bringing work home; you're perfectly okay with that. You know if he needs to talk, he will.

He clambers out of the bath, and you dry him off as exhaustion sets in, threatening to consume him before he can even lay down.

"Stay there." You whisper, and he listens as the door opens and closes.

You're back before he can really process you've even left and hand him clean clothes. They're warm from the dryer, and he tries to figure out when you had time to toss them in there. He wonders if you did it before he even got home, a sixth sense you've developed telling you that he would need it.

The two of you get dressed in silence and pad into your bedroom. You pull back the comforter and climb in, opening your arms as an invitation for him. He crawls across the bed and collapses onto your chest, your arms pulling up the blanket to cover the two of you before securely wrapping around him.

He inhales deeply, the aroma of your perfume and laundry detergent muddling his senses. The sheets have just been washed, and you've sprayed his favorite lavender vanilla freshener on the pillows.

You trace his body the way you always do, and he settles in further, almost laying entirely on top of you. You don't mind one single bit; just happy that you're able to be some sort of solace for him as he drifts off.

He never saw himself having this type of relationship; he didn't even want it. But as he lies here with images of you flashing through his subconscious, an overwhelming feeling of safety envelops him, and he knows he was wrong.

Your love makes him want to fall to his knees and repent for the errors in his previous ways, almost sorry that he'd been robbing himself of this for so long. Then again, he figures he probably didn't miss much anyway. Your love is once in a lifetime; he wouldn't have found it with anyone else, even if he wanted to.

Bradley Bradshaw never saw himself as a kind or loving man until you appeared and showed him what love is. Now, he surrenders himself completely. He doesn't know if heaven is real, but he figures this is about as close as he can get.

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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Just read the entire series and well

The Invisible Woman Chapter Eleven: Unity of Hell

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader

TW:angst, memory loss, I think thats it?

Summary: Jake comes to visit you in the hospital and you try to make sense of the situation you're in.

Word count:2.5k

A/N: this chapter feels a little rushed but I can’t bring myself to rewrite it and drag it out. Besides I know y’all are ready for a break from the angst ❤️

As soon as the words leave your mouth you're whisked away and Jake watches in slow motion. His feet are glued in place and he feels his entire nervous system go into shock.

He chokes on a sob as his hands come up to rest in his hair, golden locs sticking up all over the place. You don't remember him.

He doesn't know what happened after that, his brain seems to shut down and he goes numb.

You're kept in medical as they fuss over you, trying and failing to get any information. You don't speak again, only nodding or shaking your head to answer yes and no questions.

They were able to confirm your name but beyond that, what happened is still a mystery. You can't stop thinking about the blonde man that hugged you.

You can't place who is for the life of you, but something deep in your being knows him. You know his voice and emerald green eyes, and based on his reaction you know he's someone important to you.

You want to see him again and ask him a million questions. Why did you feel electricity shoot through you when he touched your skin?

Why did his cologne smell like home and wrap you in inexplicable comfort? Why was every cell in your body screaming to turn around and run back to him? Who is he and even more pressing, why do you miss him when you don't even know his name?

You want to remember. The pain in his eyes and the sight of tears rolling down his chiseled face caused an ache in your bones and you don't know why.

You don't remember anything if you're being honest. You know that you're a sniper in the navy, and you're aware you were captured but other than that it's blank.

You can't recall anything that happened and you're frustrated.

Jake doesn't see you again for three days and in that time, he's experienced more agony than the last three months combined.

The first thing he did when they docked was call the team. They believed he had finally crossed over into insanity until Phoenix confirmed that she saw you herself and you are in fact alive.

Jake has been out of his mind trying to get information on your condition and where they took you.

When Ice finally gets the name of the hospital, he mulls over his options for another day. He wants to see you but at the same time, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

He can't imagine what you've been through and he doesn't know if he can handle it if he shows up and you still don't know him.

He eventually says fuck it and goes anyway.

At the hospital, you're about to rip your hair out by the roots. You've talked to at least ten military officials, each one asking questions you don't want the answers to.

Right now there's a man in front of you holding a clipboard with a displeased expression.

"Do you remember what led to the attack?"

You roll your eyes against your better judgment, already fed up with the interrogation. You finally found your voice, but now you wish you would've just pretended to be mute.

"No."

He frowns and scribbles on the paper before turning his attention back to you.

"Do you remember what you did when your team was killed? What procedures you followed, how long it was before you were captured, anything?"

As soon as you register the first question the heart monitor starts beeping rapidly and you feel bile burn your throat.

"Wait, what did you say about my team being killed?" You whisper and he looks like a deer in headlights.

"Oh, I uh- I thought you knew." He babbles but you don't hear him.

An uneasiness settles in you and the blood thumping in your ears is deafening. Your stomach lurches and you grab the bedpan next to you seconds before you start to dry heave.

The doctor and nurses rush in when they hear your vitals spike and shove the man out of the room with harsh glares. You come to the conclusion he wasn't supposed to tell you that, and you wonder what else is being kept from you.

Once again you're left reeling and for some reason, the only thing you can think of is the man on the ship. Somehow you know he would be able to comfort you and say all the right things.

You hope that he shows up.

Once the staff calms you down, the words tumble out before you can process them.

"There was a man on the boat, he seemed like he knew me. Has anyone mentioned him?" You ask and the doctor frowns.

"I'm afraid not. If you have his information we can contact him for you." He offers and you can't explain the tears that sting your eyes when you realize you may never see him again.

"No, I- I don't know who he is. I mean, I do but I don't. I know that he's someone important to me, I could feel it, but everything is black." You explain and the doctor gives you a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry. If I hear anything I'll let you know. Try to get some rest." With that, he leaves you alone and sobs wrack your body.

Two hours later, the doctor is back with an unsure expression.

"There's someone here to see you. I'm not sure it's the best id-" he tries but you cut him off.

"Send them in." Your memory may be shot but your stubbornness is still intact.

He nods and a few minutes later the man from the boat walks in. He's wringing his hands together as he shifts back and forth on his feet and your heart twinges when you take in his appearance.

It's clear that he hasn't slept much and you question whether it's because of you. Deep down you know it is.

You shoot up in bed and he gives a timid smile.

"Hi." He whispers and you gesture to the stiff seat beside you.

"Hi."

He sits down and you're engulfed in that spicy vanilla cologne again. It washes over you in soothing waves and for the first time since you arrived, you feel at ease.

"So you don't remember me?" He asks and you shake your head slowly.

"No." You answer and his face drops before you continue. "I can't place who you are, but I know that you matter to me."

He looks up with hopeful eyes and that familiar swirling sensation erupts in your stomach again.

"I know your eyes and your cologne. It doesn't make sense, but I know you chew spearmint gum and like when I scratch your head. It's like my body remembers but my mind can't catch up."

He nods his head and you resist the urge to grab his hand. It's so bizarre for him. He's looking directly at the woman who holds his heart, yet she doesn't know him from Adam. He holds all these memories with you that you no longer share, and he can't quite wrap his head around the whole idea.

How is he supposed to approach this situation? There's no handbook for what to do when the love of your life doesn't know who you are anymore, he checked. He wants to be here for you however he can, but that's hard when being in your vicinity reminds him of everything that has happened.

How do you act around a person that you love with your entire being, and also grieved? He went to your funeral, he cried into a pillow for months, and he talked to the open sky about you when he believed you had been ripped away from him. How do you move forward after that?

He has no idea what your future looks like and it paralyzes him with fear.

"I'm sorry. The doctors say it's a wall my brain put up to block out the trauma. They said that when my nervous system feels safe again it should all come back, but they don't know when that'll be."

You see his Adam's apple bob up and down and it's weird to know what it feels like against your lips while having no recollection of ever placing them there.

"You don't need to feel sorry. You've been through hell, it makes sense that your mind would suppress it."

His voice shoots straight through you and you want nothing more than for him to keep talking. Just as you expected, his presence makes you feel safe.

"All these official assholes keep harassing me and trying to jog my memory. I haven't admitted it out loud, but I don't want to remember. Why would I?"

You see his face drop and immediately recognize the implication behind your words.

"Fuck, no. I didn't mean it like that. I want to remember my life more than anything, I just don't want to remember what happened over there." You elaborate and you can see this is his personal brand of hell.

"That's understandable. Can't really blame you there. What do you remember?"

You sigh and lean back, trying to run through it in your brain.

"I know that I'm A SEAL sniper. I know my name and what my favorite food is. It's just the past year that's gone."

He nods again, digesting the information when you perk up.

"Have they told you anything about what happened? They're keeping me in the dark. A man let it slip that some of my team was killed but that's all I know."

You know that he has information, it's written on his face. You realize that his expressions always convey what's on his mind and it makes you smile. You wonder if everyone can read him like an open book, or if it's something special between the two of you.

Is he this vulnerable all the time or is it reserved just for you? He looks conflicted like he's trying to decide how much to admit to, or if he should play dumb. You figure the two of you must be extremely close because you clock the moment he realizes you'll catch him if he lies.

"Come on, I won't tell anyone." You try, batting your eyelashes. He laughs lightly and your eyebrows shoot up.

"You don't know who I am yet you still know exactly how to get what you want."

You can tell he's about to cave and stick your lower lip out to seal the deal. He groans and leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, but you don't tell anyone that I told you." He says firmly and you make a zipping motion across your mouth.

"You've been MIA for three months, and presumed dead. Your entire team except for one has been confirmed KIA. You were declared dead last week and Saturday was your funeral." He informs you gently, and the new knowledge hits you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh."

He looks at you so softly and it makes you want to cry.

"I can go if you want. I know this is a lot."

Your head snaps up and your eyes are saucers as you stare at him.

"No! No, please don't go. You're the only one that hasn't been grilling me for information and I- I feel safe with you." You plead and his hand wraps around yours with such ease that you know it's something he does a lot. His fingers slide between yours and your breath hitches at the way they fit together like puzzle pieces.

"Okay, okay. Take a deep breath. I won't leave you."

The next few days drag by as your memory continues to evade you and there's a revolving door of superiors and psychiatrists in your room. Jake can tell you're overwhelmed and does his best to help.

He's nothing short of an angel, bringing you your favorite snacks and familiar clothes. He even brought your toiletries so you can feel a little more at home in your own skin. The rest of the team hasn't been by yet, Jake told them it would probably make you feel worse to have more people that you can't remember show up.

He's steadfast in his promise to stay, only leaving to retrieve items from your home and eat. Your parents made a trip but you weren't keen on seeing them and sent them away.

Jake considers showing you pictures and telling you stories to try and jog your memory but decides it would be too much. Besides, he's intimately aware of the fact that if you remember him you'll remember everything.

As much as he loves you, he's willing to sacrifice himself to spare you the pure torture you're going to experience when that wall comes crashing down. It's bittersweet, and he wants to stave it off for as long as possible. Even if it's killing him in the process.

You've gotten more comfortable around him and it takes all his strength not to wrap you in his arms and shower you in kisses. He sees glimpses of the woman he loves but has to remind himself that he's just another person to you.

You've asked for details here and there, mostly simple things like his name and how you met. He tells you with a glimmer in his eyes and it makes your heart swell. It's so obvious how much love he has for you, and you hate that you can't just remember.

It feels like it's on the tip of your tongue, yet you just can't place it no matter how hard you try.

After three weeks, Jake starts to get concerned that he's been erased from your mind for good. It doesn't send him running the way it would have at one point though. Instead, he swears to himself that he'll earn your love again if he has to.

He simply refuses to let you go that easily, especially after everything the two of you have been through.

He jolts awake suddenly at the sound of your whimpers and his forehead creases as he watches your eyelids flutter as your eyes dart back and forth. He's been sleeping at your bedside ever since that first day and you haven't had a single dream in that time.

Worry consumes him when your forehead starts to bead with sweat and your limbs start to jerk. It's the middle of the night, somewhere around three am if he had to guess. He would look at the clock, but he's afraid to take his eyes off you for even a second.

Suddenly, your eyes fly open and you let out a short scream. You look around panicked as you try to place where you are and your lungs gasp for air. It takes a second for the sterile smell of the hospital to burn your nostrils, but when it does the past three weeks come rushing back.

Your chest heaves and you feel like you're going to be sick until that sweet scent that you love so much hits you. Jake watches with wide eyes, not wanting to startle you further and his heart feels like it's about to give out.

He hears your quiet voice ring out into the dark and if he wasn't sitting down, he would have collapsed.

"Hangman?"

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @gspenc @chair-things @benhardysdrumstick @cookielovesbook-akie @dempy @wellshit6 @zbeez-outlet @sopheeg @callsign-milano @gizmodear @cornishkat @fox-bee926

#crying screaming sliding down the wall

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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JJ gives off very much lover era, like having matching bracelets, wearing each other's clothes, having a thousand pictures of each other, always holding hands and pouting when he has to let go.

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rafecameronsbadussy · 1 year

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His Comforting Touch

Edited-- ~650 words.

@bellysinnerthoughts - I hope you like it! Thank you!

The thunder seemed to shake the house after a bolt of lightning speared the sky, illuminating the room. The doors and windows left open to let in the cool air blowing in from the storm. You shiver, digging deeper into the bed, Kie obvious to the storm raging outside as she slept beside you. Pope snores from the floor at the foot of the sofa bed. He had chosen to move inside for the night after you all spotted the storm clouds moving in. Somehow he had managed to fit himself on two stray couch cushions before knocking out.

Everyone was asleep but you. The only noise came from Pope’s soft snores and the rumbling outside. A few more hours and you would be fine. A few more hours and the storm would be out over the sea. You close your eyes in an effort to will yourself into a calmer state. The sound of a door creaking open makes your eyes snap open. JJ emerges from the guest room, his shorts slung low, he ruffles his hair a little. His gaze is on your huddled frame.

“You awake?” He asks. His voice was barely above a whisper. He nears the bed, careful not to wake the others.

“Yes.”

“Thought so,” he mumbles, shuffling past to peek out at the wind and rain hammering down on the island. “Come on,” he says, returning after a moment, his hand outstretched for you to take.

You grasp his hand climbing out of the depths of the bed. He keeps you close while you make your way back to his room. He shuts the door before turning to you waiting in the middle of the room.

“Are you sure?” You ask, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands before pressing them to your face.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep if I know you are freaking out.”

You frown at him, making him chuckle, but another bright bolt of lightning sends you into his arms. He holds you, and you bury your face in his chest when the thunder booms out right after.

“It’s not funny,” you whine a little.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up at him and see the frown on his face and the worry behind it. His hand smoothes the hair back from your face.

“Forgiven.” You press your face back into his chest. His skin was warm against yours, the smell of saltwater clinging to him.

“It’ll pass by morning,” he murmurs in your ear. His hand cupped the back of your head. His shushed murmurs soothe you. “Try to sleep, okay?”

“Doubtful.”

A twitch of a smile teases his lips before he helps you into his bed before he follows. He pulls you into his side. You curl up against him. Your forehead presses against the dip between his shoulder and his neck. His arms secure you against him. His chin rests on your head until you seem to calm down a little more. After your shoulders drop some of the tension, you inhale a deep breath letting the comfort of him soothe you.

“Thanks, J.”

He dips his head down. His lips brush your hair. “Anytime, Baby.”

You close your eyes and focus on his breathing. Your fingers tangled in your sweatshirt. He stays quiet so long you are sure he falls asleep until another bolt of lightning illuminates the room. His hand slips under your sweatshirt to touch your back. His fingertips drag across the small of your back right as the thunder rumbles again.

“I’ve got you,” he coos before you can react. “You’re safe.” He continues to trace patterns across your back, shushing you until the storm moves out to sea. You fall asleep like that, and he slips away shortly after you. One last soft brush of his lips against your temple is his promise to keep you safe.

#crying

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