Bradley James x Reader One Shots

#AskBradley

Even hunched over his phone, in a crowded airport waiting area, Bradley James was the most beautiful man I'd ever known. His lips pouted and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he thought about something he'd read.

"Another hashtag ask Bradley?" I asked, plonking myself by his side, and handing over a warm drink.

"Hashtag thank you," he laughed. "Yeah, it's kind of an airport tradition now."

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

The corners of his lips curled up, as though caught in the act of something. "Would I date a fan?"

"Why is that so difficult? You've been asked that a thousand times."

"I know, but I only have 140 characters to express that I would like to think that anyone I date in the future would be a fan of my work, but I wouldn't date one of those super obsessed fangirls, because they kinda scare me... a lot."

I laughed at this, knowing full well that if I didn't already know him in person, I would probably have fallen quite easily into that category.

"What have you written so far?"

"Nothing," he sipped his drink and nodded his approval, "I've just been staring at the question."

He flashed me a cheeky grin as he handed me his phone.

"Why are you giving it to me?" I asked, taking it nonetheless.

"Oh come on," he batted his eyelashes, "you have a wonderful way with words... I just told you what I want to say. Can't you do it for me? Pretty please?" His eyelashes beat so hard they almost blew me away, so I had no choice but to agree to help.

"This isn't fair to your fans, y'know. They think you're the one answering them."

"I am! Just via your great writing skills."

"Why thank you," I did a sitting-curtsey in honour of this compliment. He chuckled lowly, and threw one arm across the back of my seat, cradling his cup in his other hand. "So, what did you want to say again?"

"No nutters, but I hope future Mrs James is a fan of my work. Of course I do."

"No nutters," I repeated playfully typing it out.

"You can't say that!"

"Why? It's less that 140 characters."

"How do you know?"

"I know the rough word count of a tweet, and that wasn't it."

He nudged me playfully, as I worked out a polite way of saying what he wanted. Just as I started typing, he nudged me again.

"What was that for?!" I giggled.

"Nothing," he looked nonchalant.

I went back to answering the question, but almost immediately, was nudged again.

"What?!" I locked his phone and rounded on him.

The twinkle in his eyes told me that he was up to something. I only had to blink for him to nudge me again.

"Bradley!" I almost squealed, "If you want to live to ever actually meet 'Future Mrs James', then you'd better stop attacking me while I'm helping you out!"

He laughed mischievously, "What if I've already met her?"

I ignored my sunken heart at the thought of him being taken away from my life, and continued anyway, "Well, surely you want to live long enough to tell her how you feel?!"