#rooster x reader
Text
so high school
pairing : bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader
fandom : top gun
synopsis : being in love makes you feel oh so high school!!
series : the tortured poets department
warnings : smut
a/n : loved loved loved writing this!! happy reader
you couldn't quite tell what it was about bradley 'rooster' bradshaw that had you hooked. but something just did. the world of naval aviators was close knit, and you had been friends with phoenix and fanboy for as long as you could remember, even graduating top gun together.
it wasn't until many years later that you received a letter, asking you to go to fightertown san diego for a special mission. thats it. thats all they told you.
so before you knew it, you were cruising down the coast in your bike, hair whipping in the breeze, trying to find the bar phoenix had told you she would be at. you spotted it soon enough, glimmering brightly near the shining sea, and you parked and made your way inside.
it was packed full of other aviators, you spotted phoenix, hangman, coyote, payback and fanboy playing a game of pool and making snarky remarks at each other.
"cherry!" a cheery voice called you, and you offered your best friend your sweetest smile. "hi phoenix! i missed you" you laughed, pulling her into a hug, that she reciprocated, kissing your temple affectionately.
"cherry!" fanboy said, wrestling you into a tight hug to rub your head affectionately as you pretended to be annoyed, swatting at his arm.
"didn't know you were here too hon" phoenix said, offering you a bottle of beer.
"yep, got the call to ride at dawn" you said dramatically, sinking into a chair, shaking your jacket off your shoulders, draping the black leather jacket over the back of the chair.
"well if they're calling in the big guns guess the mission must be important" pheonix teased, affectionately rubbing your shoulder again.
"cherry, meet bob, phoenix's new backseater from leemore" payback said, gesturing to a quiet man with glasses who was eating peanuts in the corner. "hello, I'm bob" he said, smiling at you and shaking your hand. "I'm y/n, cherry" you smiled.
just as you were about turn to greet coyote, the door opened and a man clad in a hawaiian shirt walked in, aviators hiding his eyes, with a slight swagger to his walk as he walked in, sliding his glasses slightly lower down his nose as he greeted phoenix . he had the most perfect looking moustache you had ever seen, and for a split second you wondered how it would feel brushed up against every part of you.
you bit back a giggle as phoenix hit him in the stomach with her pool stick, that instantly had his eyes snapping to your face.
bradley didn't know what hit him as he looked at your face. well, apart from phoenix's poolstick. he felt like all the wind has been sucked from his lungs as he looked at you, drinking in your pretty eyes and curved lips, plush and full, seeing the way your hand was wrapped around a cold bottle of beer. he felt his heartbeat speed up so fast he had to steady himself on his unsteady feet. you looked ethereal.
"and who are you?" he asked, taking his aviators off to tuck them into his pocket as he leaned against nat's shoulder, offering you a smile that had your heart beating way faster than it should have.
"y/n, cherry" you smiled, extending your hand for a handshake. bradley grabbed your hand, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it that had a warm flushed heat creeping up to your cheek.
"I'm rooster, bradley" he said, sinking into a chair next to yours.
"nice to meet you" you smiled at him, draining the last of your beer. "can I get you another?" he said, already getting ready to stand. "thats okay rooster, I'll go get one myself" you hurried to get up as well, but he just took you by the elbow, leading you to the bar. "please let me. what sort of a gentleman would i be if I didn't buy a pretty girl a drink?" he smirked mischievously and you forced down a smile, hiding it with an eye roll.
"please, nat talks about you and I know for a fact how much of a ladykiller you are" you said, smiling at the woman behind the bar who introduced herself as penny. "put it on my tab, penny my dear!" rooster called and earned a smile from the woman.
"damn, phoenix is destroying my shot before I even had a chance huh? he sighed, only a little resigned. "but I promise, I'm not like that anymore, I'm older and wiser now" he said, looking at you hesitantly. you couldn't help but laugh, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.
"I'm just messing with you" you giggled, accepting the cold beer gratefully and clinking your bottle with his.
you found yourself lost in conversation with him, laughing and chattering like long lost friends. you told him all about knowing nat and fanboy, about your hobbies, what got you into aviation. he spoke about his love for music, his love for aviators, and surprisingly, about his dad.
he watched the way your eyes softened, not in the way that people did with pity, but with understanding. and you reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry that happened to you bradley" you said, voice as delicate as a feather. "thank you" he said, stroking a hand over your thumb.
"hey,wanna see something cool?" he asked, already leading you over to the piano. "you gonna play a song bradshaw?" you laughed, choosing to lean against the piano as he settled into the seat. you recognised the opening notes of great balls of fire.
bradley's voice was as warm as whiskey, rough around the edges and ragged in a way that took your breath away and made a little something spark in between your thighs.
"kiss me baby!" he sang, throwing you a cheeky wink that had phoenix nudging your side. "that feels good, baby" he smirked, letting his tongue wet his lips as he watched your body twitch a little.
"I'm off to love you like a lover should" he crooned, fingers dancing across the ivory keys as you hummed along.
after he finished, you watched him get swarmed with people, and whooping and cheering for him, before the chants of "rooster! rooster! rooster! rooster!" filled the room and you clapped along before slinking back to the bar.
"hey whered you go?" bradley's warm voice made his way over to you. "just wanted a moment and another beer" you said and he grinned, already passing you a cold one again, letting his fingers brush yours again.
"cmon, let's go on a drive" he said, gently tugging your hand and paying his bill quickly. "thanks for that, by the way" you said, beaming up at him gratefully. "anytime pretty girl" he said, leading you put to where a beautiful Bronco was parked.
"thats a beautiful car" you said, stopping to admire it. "whose is it?" you continued, staring curiously. "it's mine" he said proudly, grinning when you gasped. "it's so pretty!"
"thank you, it's my baby" he said, and you felt your heart flutter. "come, let me show you the sights" he said, getting your car door for you in a way that had you feeling a little ooey gooey on the inside and had you thinking "isn't that sweet?"
and as you drive off into the night, the moon illuminating the sea, you felt oh so high school.
the hard deck was buzzing with energy, music playing in the background as the squad enjoyed a rare night off. you, bradley and the rest of the team were gathered around a large table, laughter and banter filling the air.
"hey, cherry, can you grab me another beer?" bradley asked with a playful grin, his eyes twinkling.
"only if you say please," you teased back, giving him a mock-serious look.
"please," he replied, drawing out the word and giving you an exaggerated puppy-dog look that made you laugh.
as you headed to the bar, nat nudged you with her elbow. "you know, Cherry, you’re not fooling anyone, especially me" she smirked.
you raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. "what do you mean?"
phoenix gave you a knowing smile. "come on, it's so obvious you have a crush on Rooster. the way you two flirt, it's like watching a rom-com. and as your best friend, you know I can read you like an open book" she said, leaning across the bar to grab your three beers.
your cheeks flushed a little, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Is it that obvious?"
"To everyone but you two, apparently," phoenix said, chuckling. "just go for it. You two are great together."
meanwhile, back at the table, the boys were giving rooster a similar hard time.
"rooster, man, you are so into cherry," jake "said, shaking his head. "the way you look at her, it's like you're in the notebook or something."
"yeah, dude," bob added. "It's written all over your face. you look like a little kitten with a ball of wool" he said and analogy made the other pilots roar with laughter.
rooster tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. "what can I say? she's special."
as you returned to the table with the beers, you noticed the boys smirking at rooster, who was giving them a playful glare. you handed bradley his beer, your fingers brushing briefly, sending a small thrill through you.
"thanks, cherry," he said, his voice softening a bit, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully.
"anytime," you replied, your heart fluttering.
phoenix gave you a knowing look, and you felt a rush of warmth. surrounded by friends and filled with a sense of joy and possibility, you knew this was just the beginning of something truly special between you and bradley.
and that feeling made you feel like a high schooler, feeling oh so high school.
training and day to day encounters with bradley became the norm, and he found himself actively seeking you out more and more.
"hey cherry" his voice rang sweetly in your ears as he plonked himself down next to you. "hey rooster" you greeted back, settling comfortably into the chair, waiting for maverick to come and start the training session.
"looks like we're paired up for today's exercise" he said, trying to dim the bright grin that graced his face, drinking in the amused look in yours.
"sure looks like it" you grinned back, laughing when he pumped his fists in the air. "excited much?" you joked, leaning slightly into his shoulder. "oh, very. it's not often i get to fly with a wingwoman as beautiful as you, pretty girl" he cooed, fingers dancing across the loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun and tucking it back in.
you felt your breath hitch and your heart speed up like a train, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as he leaned in slightly closer, eyes trained on yours, gleaming in the sunshine. you leaned in as well, torso moving forward as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly. bradley felt his heart hammering, palms sweating slightly as he repeated a mantra of "holy shit this is actually happening" repeatedly in his head.
just as your noses brushed, a sharp voice cut the tension in the room, and you jumped back as if you had been scalded. you felt your body heat up as the grinning faces of hangman and coyote and maverick came into view, making you shoot away from bradley to keep a respectable distance between you two.
"well, well, what do we have here?" hangman’s teasing drawl filled the space, a smirk playing on his lips. phoenix elbowed him in the ribs, rolling her eyes at his lack of tact. "damnit bagman, couldn't you have waited for a second?" nat's voice reached your ears and you tried your hardest not to simply evaporate on the spot.
maverick raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "did we interrupt something?"
coyote chuckled, shaking his head. "looks like we did."
bradley's hand remains on your shoulder, a reassuring touch. you couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment and amusement at the situation.
"har har guys, why don't you move it along now cmon" rooster said, dramatically gesturing to the door.
a chorus of laughs and giggles embraced you, with natasha stopping to stoop by your ear and say "never seen you look so captivated cherry" and giving you a playful wink which you returned.
"well...where were we?" bradley said, after ensuring the squad had truly left. "i believe you were about to kiss me?" you said in a hushed whisper, reaching for the zipper of his flight suit, standing up to pull him flush against you.
you let your body sink against the tiny podium mav used to give his motivational speeches, letting bradley's weight sag into you as he leaned closer, and closer and closer...
right until his breath was warm on your face, searching your eyes for the same desperate adoration he felt and he saw it there in full reciprocity.
"god, will you kiss me already?" you whined, tugging him forward by the collar.
bradley turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. he took a step closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "I've been wanting to tell you something," he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it.
your heart raced as you nodded, body high on the palpable tension, waiting for him to continue. "ive felt this way for a while now," he confessed, taking your hand in his. "and I can't keep pretending it's not there." he continued, breath in ragged gasps as he inched so much more impossibly closer to you.
before you could respond, he gently cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek. the world seemed to slow down as he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss, charged with sweet emotion.
the first touch sent a shiver down your spine. it was sweet and slow, as delicate as spun sugar, both of you savoring the moment you had been waiting for. bradley's other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the other still grasping your cheek.
his lips were warm and inviting, and you lost yourself in the sensation, your arms winding around his neck. his mustache, his oh so perfect mustache brushed against your top lip, in a messy kiss that felt so good you couldn't breathe. his hand crawled up your back to rest in your hair, cradling your head in his hand while yours continued to grip his collar and his chest tightly, tongues now clashing as the kiss grew more heated.
just as bradley let his hand down to squeeze the flesh of your ass, the sound of footsteps and a horrified "oh!" had bradley breaking apart from you, eyes never leaving your heaving form as he glanced over his shoulder to see an extremely flustered bob.
"oh shit rooster, I'm sorry i-" he began, stammering and stuttering as his glasses began to slip down his nose from the nervous perspiration gathering on his nose.
"bob, just leave" he murmured, going back to your lips as he let his mustache brush your lip in a way that had you giggling.
"right! right! I'll leave god rooster I'm sorry-" he continued rooted to the spot, eyes widening at the way bradley's lips trailed to your neck.
"bob?" you called sweetly, ignoring the way rooster smirked against your neck. "yes cherry?" he said, still stuttering.
"as much as I like you, please fuck off and let me makeout with rooster in peace" you said firmly, and he was scurrying out like a mouse.
bradley laughed against the skin of your neck, pressing one last smacking kiss to the juncture between your shoulder and neck, before leaning up to peck your nose.
"darling, let me take you to dinner" he begged, grasping your hand in his own palm.
"when?" you asked, still heaving to take deep breaths of air. "now. today. an hour, god, I'll just go shower and change and I'll come and pick you up and we can go now, today, now" he said, punctuating each word with a soft kiss to your lips.
"okay" you breathed, slowly backing away to just admire the man before you. "pick me up at 7 then" you said, pushing him away with a smirk, before walking towards the door, hips swaying purposefully. "and maybe tonight, you'll get to kiss more of me" you winked, and made your way out.
rooster sunk back into a chair with a groan.
god, you made him feel like a lovestruck teenager, giving him butterflies
it all felt oh so high school to him.
bradley bradshaw had planned the perfect first date, and as the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over Fightertown, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the evening ahead. he had picked you up right on time, his charming smile and easy confidence immediately putting you at ease.
he drove you to a secluded stretch of beach, the sound of the waves creating a serene backdrop as he unloaded a large picnic basket from the trunk. "i thought we'd do something a little different," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "a beach picnic seemed like the perfect idea. you mentioned you've never had one before" he said, a note of shyness in his gaze.
"i love it," you replied, genuinely touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.
he spread out a blanket on the soft sand, arranging the picnic essentials with meticulous care. as you sat down, you couldn't help but admire the beautiful scenery—the ocean stretching out endlessly, the sky painted with hues of orange and pink.
bradley handed you a glass of sparkling champagne and raised his own in a toast. "to new beginnings," he said, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.
"to new beginnings," you echoed, clinking your glass against his.
the evening unfolded with an easy, natural flow. bradley had packed an impressive spread: fresh fruit, gourmet sandwiches, cheese, and even a couple of your favorite snacks, and to your mirth, a whole container of cherry candy. you both talked and laughed, sharing stories and learning more about each other.
at one point, he playfully fed you a strawberry, and you couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "you're really going all out, huh?" you teased.
"only the best for you," he replied with a wink, his tone light but his expression serious.
as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turned a deep, velvety blue, and bradley lit a few candles, their gentle flicker adding to the romantic ambiance. you found yourself inching closer to him, the warmth of his presence and the sound of his voice creating a bubble of intimacy that felt both exhilarating and comforting.
he glanced at you, his eyes soft and filled with an emotion that made your breath catch. "you know, I've wanted to do this for a long time," he admitted, his voice low and earnest.
"really?" you asked, feeling a flutter of excitement.
"yeah," he said, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. "there's something about you, cherry. from the moment we met, I knew you were special."
your heart swelled with happiness as you looked into his eyes. "i feel the same way, bradley."
he smiled, a slow, genuine smile that lit up his face. "im glad," he said softly.
as the night continued, you sat together, sharing quiet moments and watching the stars appear one by one in the sky. It was the perfect first date, a beautiful beginning to what you both hoped would be a wonderful journey together.
bradley couldn't remember the last time anyone had left him so simply awe struck and feeling like a teenager in love the way that you had. he knew the moment he set eyes on you in the hard deck that you had stolen his heart in every sense of the phrase.
so flash forward to three months after your first date and there you were, pressed up against his body, leaning into his warmth with one of your ankles looped around his own, both your feet propped up on bradley's coffee table. his house had practically become yours, you spent more time there than at your own pathetic little rented apartment.
bradley inhaled the scent of your perfume, bergamot and oak, vanilla and of course cherry. he didn't know how much he loved the scent of cherry till you came into his life like a cherry scented whirlwind.
it was a Saturday night and that meant neither of you had to go into work the next day. he had asked you to come over to his place after a few drinks at the hard deck. he had cracked open a nice bottle of red wine and had ordered in some of the burritos you loved so much, topped of with that spicy salsa you loved.
a bowl of nachos sat between the two of you, and the burritos waited on the table for you two to stop gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.
the classic 'american pie' was playing softly in the background, but neither of you could really pay attention. your fingers traced over his muscled thighs, absent mindedly tracing your initials on the exposed skin, his denim shorts giving you more than enough room to gently trace the skin.
his arm was around your shoulders, gently tracing mindless circles on the exposed skin of your shoulder, and occasionally dropping kisses to the skin as well, letting his tongue dart out to earn a giggle from your pretty lips.
"ya having fun pretty girl?" he asked, brushing a loose strand of his hair back. "mmhmm" you nodded burrowing into his chest in a way that had his heart singing.
"i love how stupidly interesting this movie is" he confessed, and you laughed, affectionately kissing his nose. "i do too, it's the perfect movie to unwind to" you agreed, settling into his chest again as you took a sip of the cabernet he had poured you.
he adored these little moments with you. how he would love to have them with you every damn day. he wanted you to just be with him for ever and ever.
of course, the both of you had forgotten about the iconic scene in which vicky finally...achieved new highs. bradley's eyes went wide as he choked on his wine, watching as the explicit scene played out on tv, feeling your body tense beside him and your breathing quicken as she reached her peak on screen.
he felt red hot arousal course through his body, and the fact that your perfectly plush body was resting against him in a way that was just right was not helping him. his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight around his groin.
he heard you gulp beside him, eyes blown a little wide as your eyes shifted to his face, flushing a little when you saw he was already looking at you.
"sweetheart i hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable?" he asked, stroking your cheek in concern. he missed the way your thighs pressed together, but he did hear the whimper that left your lips.
"oh darling..." he cooed, thumb stroking your cheekbone. "you want me to do that to you pretty girl? want me to eat your pretty pussy?" he asked, smirking when you whimpered again softly, turning so you were both face to face.
"answer me darling " he said, moving the glasses away to pull you flush into his lap. you tried to stifle your sigh of pleasure when his large hands grabbed your hips, settling you snug against him.
"please?" you asked, hands trailing down his muscled chest. "please what, pretty girl?" he asked, hands reaching to the back of your shirt. "please can you eat me out, lieutenant bradshaw?" you cooed, feeling confident as you rolled your hips on his.
"fuck baby girl" he grunted, making quick work of undoing your bra and flinging it off off you, hands going slowly up and down your sides. "I'd love that" he groaned, slowly setting you down flat on the couch and resting one knee between your legs. he dragged your top off, and you hissed when the cold air graced your nipples, hardening them to peaks.
his eager tongue descended upon them, flat of it pressing against the sensitive buds and sucking them between his lips to flick at them in a way that had you gasping and gripping his luscious hair in your hands, chest arching high.
he bucked up into you then, hands holding your hips still as he stiffens against you. "you’re fucking sexy, ya know that?" he said "so. fucking. sexy." he punctuated each word with a flick of his tongue, teeth grazing the nipple and sucking it, letting his saliva coat it before pulling it, making you hiss in pleasure.
although it took him seconds, it felt like an eternity, as bradley travelled down the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach where he stopped, and licked slow circles around your belly button until you shuddered almost continually. his tongue dipped into your belly button and your foot jerks. his mouth travelled lower.
he took a minute to settle down, settling down to his knees in front of the couch, to become eye-level with your clothed cunt, while maintaining a cozy sort of closeness. once again, he gently stroked the waistband of your panties, and, with expert hands, eyed the pale blush pink colour of your underwear.
"i don't know if i tell you often", he moaned into your thigh with squinted eyes. "but you’re the prettiest fucking person ive ever seen" he said, biting the flesh of your hip. "prettiest fucking thing ive ever seen" he repeated, and your heart began to thud at an irregular pace against your chest as you watched the special show.
"tell me you want me baby" he asked, stopping his movements and panting on his knees. he looked like such a fucking angelic mess in that moment, voice raspy, chest heaving and hands gripping the flesh of your hips.
"i need to hear you tell me you want me and need me" he begged, slowly drawing your knees apart.
"please roos, i need you so bad! i want you!" you acquiesced, desperately reaching for his hand, which he immediately linked with your own.
"now, i have only one rule" he murmured pressing another kiss into your skin, this time even lower. he tilted your hips up just a bit higher, so they’re level with his nose; eyes just barely peeking over your mound. he inhaled sharply.
"you have to be as loud as you can or i stop. just please, fuck, please don’t hold back on me" he whispered, stroking your knuckles on the hand in which your fingers were entwined, his cheeks pink in the sparkling lights.
and with your nod, he’s dove in. you felt his tongue slip out, softly licking at your already swollen clit, and you realized this feeling was unlike anything. it was heaven and it's hell, it was sanity and insanity, and you loved it. your chest dipped hard with every aggressive rise, and the more it obscured your view of rooster, the more you adjusted yourself so that way it doesn’t. you wanted to see him.
his mouth wrapped around your clit and he gently sucked at it, his chin grazing your hole as his tongue explored the unfamiliar territory. he moaned out loud in surprise of how fucking sweet and tart you tasted.
"fuck sweet girl, you taste like cherry candy" he grunted, his own hips grinding against the coarse material of the couch.
he continued with his ministrations, pulling soft moans out of you. it was a melody, a harmony. a symphony of low groans and raw moans and desperate whines leaving your lips. each and every noise; every perfectly composed addition giving way to how your pleasure builds. "fu—oh, my god, roos!" you managed to gasp out, remembering his rule, head pressing against fluffy yellow cushion he had given you.
he’d barely touched you. hadn’t even quite moved on from your clit, and yet? you were a fucking mess. your breathing, uneven, your heart erratic. it was a dizzying experience everytime he sucked on your clit.
he alternated, tightening the control on his lips or flattening his tongue, lifting your legs to rest them on his shoulders.
your legs felt heavy against his shoulders, knees buckling from the pleasure. the noises that came from him are pornographic, to say the least. obscene and dirty, muffled by your puffy lips. it was wet, and it sounded like heaven.
"you’re doing great, pretty girl. so fucking good" he growled into your pussy, lapping at your juices.
then suddenly he was mouthing at your cunt, tongue dipping into your aching hole with fervour, trying to learn what made you feel good, what made you jerk, what made you tick. about your reactions. about your ethereal sounds. as much as his brain could take. he made you absolutely melt into putty with his experienced touch.
an unexpected high-pitched moan escaped your swollen mouth, and your breath caught in your throat. "holy shit! rooster! bradley! ah—fuck, just, you’re…right there" your hands clutched the leather between your fingers, and you were pretty sure you had ripped a hole in the velveteen couch.
a familiar warmth was beginning to pool in your tummy, fingers running through his hair in response, scratching at his scalp and pulling his hair roughly.
the veins in his arms began to strain and protrude and you almost came right there on the spot. you yanked on his hair again, and with a loud groan he jerked up into you. a dangerous glint gleaming in his eyes as he shot up to meet yours and he lifted himself off of you. "you’re playing a dangerous game, darling" he whispered, fingers trailing down your thighs.
his tongue swirled along your ribs, the place where you’re most ticklish, and it revealed his new favourite sound in the world - your laugh. over the curve of your breast, covered with hickeys and bites, and then finally right above your heart. where he lived, where he loved and could be loved. his home.
he snuck back down, fingers slipping into you, pressing against your g spot before his tongue began to suck harshly on your clit.
the familiar band of pleasure began to build in your belly and you whined in desperate pleasure. his tongue began to suck on the little pearl harder, and soon you were thrashing above him as the band snapped and you came all over his pretty face.
"thats it darling, nice and slow, come for me" he murmured, licking you through your orgasm. "mm-ah! roos!" you groaned as the sensitivity grew between your legs.
bradley stood up panting, moustache gleaming with your sparkling juices, and his tongue picked out to lick it away, the sight so obscenely perfect.
"you're my new favourite thing to eat in the world, sweet girl" he cooed, pressing his lips to yours in a delicate kiss.
gasping and panting, you kissed his back, gently stroking his hair. "thank you, that was amazing" you breathed, giggling when he sunk into you and the both of you descended into the plush couch.
"don't thank me baby girl, it's a pleasure to give my girl the best head of her life" he said, cracking a grin when you hid your face in his chest.
"god I adore you. i love you" he said, breathing the scent of your perfume again. "I love you too baby" you whispered, kissing his nose.
"c'mon, let's get up and cuddle now" he said, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder. you squealed in laughter as he tickled your side, hanging over his shoulder, playfully swatting his butt as he made his way up the stairs.
this was the kind of romance you'd only read bout in high school.
the hard deck was alive with its usual blend of laughter and lively conversation as you and the squad gathered for another fun night out. the air was filled with the familiar buzz of camaraderie, and everyone was in high spirits. but tonight, there was a special gleam in bradley's eyes that you couldn't quite place.
as the evening progressed, he excused himself and made his way to the old upright piano in the corner of the bar. you watched curiously as he sat down, his fingers lightly grazing the keys, testing the feel of the instrument. the room began to quiet down as people noticed him at the piano, a sense of anticipation building.
he looked up and caught your eye, his expression softening. "this one's for you, cherry," he said, his voice carrying across the room. a few murmurs of surprise and interest rippled through the crowd as he began to play a slow, romantic tune.
the familiar notes of heaven by Bryan Adams began to play.
as the melody filled the bar, you felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. bradley's playing was beautiful, each note filled with emotion. his eyes never left yours, and it felt like the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you connected by the music.
when he began to sing, his voice was smooth and heartfelt, the lyrics speaking of love and longing. it was clear to everyone that this was a song from the depths of his heart, and the dedication to you made it all the more special.
"and baby, you're all that I want,
when you're lying here in my arms,
im finding it hard to believe,
we're in heaven,
and love is all that i need,
and I found it there in your heart" he crooned softly to you and you felt an overwhelming love settle in your heart for the man at the piano.
the squad couldn't resist teasing. jake leaned over to phoenix and bob, a playful grin on his face. "hearts are breaking in the world tonight," he quipped, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.
"yeah, looks like rooster's got it bad," phoenix added, giving you a wink.
bob nodded in agreement, smiling warmly. "It's like a scene out of a high school movie."
despite the teasing, there was an underlying sense of genuine happiness from everyone, seeing how much bradley cared for you.
as the song drew to a close, bradley's final notes lingered in the air, and the room erupted into applause. he stood up and walked back to you, his gaze never wavering.
you met him halfway, feeling a rush of emotions. "that was beautiful, baby" you said, your voice soft with gratitude and affection.
he smiled, his eyes shining with sincerity. "I'm glad you liked it, cherry. It was all for you."
as the squad continued to tease and make light-hearted comments, you and bradley shared a look that said it all. in that moment, surrounded by friends and wrapped in the warmth of his music, you both felt like high schoolers in love, caught up in the sweet, innocent magic of the night.
rooster had invited the entire squad over to his place for beers n barbecue, but it was just an excuse to play grand theft auto with the boys. nat and you had just rolled your eyes and decided to play monopoly.
rooster kept glancing over his shoulder towards the two of you, smiling when he saw you laugh, throwing your head back and exposing the skin of your neck to him. he inhaled deeply when you bit your lip, teeth sinking into the flesh in concentration.
he groaned as hangman shoved him in the shoulder to make him lose in the game, and he stood up to head to the kitchen.
"baby you want a beer? nat, what about you?" he asked, walking over to you to drop a kiss to your shoulder.
"please" nat groaned, looking up from the board. "cherry's been kicking my ass at this stupid game for an hour" she said, making you laugh as you picked up the bowl of nachos you had been sharing to refill it.
"I'll be right back babe" you said, taking your empty beer bottles and following rooster to the kitchen.
"you having fun?" he asked, dragging you to him by your belt loops and dropping a kiss to your forehead. "i am! i missed spending time with nix" you said, kissing his cheeks and walking over to check the apple pie you had put in the oven.
rooster bit back a groan as you bent at the waist to check it, and before you knew it he was pulling you in, pressing your front against the counter. his fingers slid to the front of your jeans, slowly zipping them down.
"bradley! what in the world are you doing!" you hissed, hands settling on top of his own. "our friends are literally right there playing GTA!" you exclaimed, gasping when his finger slipped into the band of your cotton panties.
he dipped his finger to your clit, smirking when he felt the wetness on your clit. his fingers began to rub deft circles and your knees buckled, a soft whimper leaving your lips when his lips dropped to your ear to nibble on the shell.
"my my, you're a dirty little girl aren't you? getting fingered in the kitchen while our friends are in the next room?" he purred and your head dropped into his shoulder.
"fuck baby.." you moaned, and he sucked a hickey into your neck.
"god i love seeing you like this" he groaned, fingers speeding up against your clit, thumb settling on it, slipping one finger in at a time, pressing against your spongy walls, taking in the symphony of your moans.
"fuck I'm so close" you whined, pressing harder against his fingers. "cum for me darling, cum all over my fingers" he said and you came undone with a shudering gasp, chest heaving.
"hey cherry I'd like my beer cold please!" pheonix's voice cut the air and you almost jumped out of your skin.
rooster laughed as you heated up against him, pulling the zipper of your jeans back up before leaning back against the counter to lick his fingers, that had you playfully glaring at him.
"hey, bradshaw! you just died in the game man!" hangman's smug voice cut in, and the both of you laughed and pulled away.
"I'll see you again later honey" you said, kissing his cheeks. "love you" he said, nuzzling into your cheek.
"Jesus, get a room!" payback exclaimed as he stepped into the kitchen, looking for more popcorn.
"let them be! they're so cute together!" phoenix said, walking in, with her arms crossed. "cherry, babe. it's been fifteen minutes. are you brewing the beer from scratch?" she joked, walking over to the fridge to pick up the beer herself.
"sorry, she got distracted" rooster grinned and you nudged him in the side. natasha grimaced and payback pretended to gag.
"you're like two horny teenagers" fanboy commented as he walked in too.
"what can I say?" rooster shrugged. "she makes me feel oh so high school" he smiled.
you sighed dreamily, watching bradley's pretty shirt flutter in the sea breeze. he had taken you out to a cute restaurant on the beach, which had outdoor seating and was decorated in quiet finesse.
the ocean's edge had been a charming and elegant beachside restaurant known for its stunning panoramic views of the sea. as the sun had set, casting a golden glow over the water.
the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore had provided a soothing backdrop to the evening, along with the rhythmic hum of the Bryan Adams song playing in the restaurant.
soft candlelight had flickered on your table, illuminating the beautifully set plates and the fresh, exquisite dishes prepared with locally sourced ingredients. the ambiance had been both romantic and serene, perfect for an intimate dinner with rooster, where every detail had been crafted to enhance the dining experience by the sea.
the candlelight danced in his eyes, which were filled with warmth and a hint of mischief. you both leaned in close, sharing quiet laughter and soft, playful touches. your conversation flowed effortlessly, akin to two teenagers in love, filled with lighthearted teasing and genuine curiosity about each other's lives.
rooster's hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. you found yourselves lost in his eyes, which reflected your own dreams for the future. there was an innocence and purity to your interaction, each smile and glance brimming with affection. the way he looked at you, with unguarded admiration, made you feel like the most important person in the world.
bradley leaned in a little closer, his expression turning slightly more serious but still filled with warmth. "you know," he said his voice soft and earnest, "i've been thinking a lot lately."
"oh? about what?" you asked, a hint of curiosity and amusement in your voice.
"about us," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. "about how much I love spending time with you, how much you mean to me."
your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a warm flush spread through you. "i feel the same way, bradley."
he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I've been thinking... I don't want us to just have these moments in between missions and busy schedules. I want more of this. More of you."
you felt a flutter of excitement and anticipation. "what are you trying to say?" you asked, excitement and anticipation bubbling in your chest.
he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "i want you to move in with me," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to wake up next to you every day, to come home to you. I want us to build a life together, not just in moments but every single day."
your eyes welled up with tears of happiness. "bradley, are you serious?"
he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life. I love you, and I want us to be together, always."
tears of joy streamed began to well up in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. "I love you too, bradley. yes, I would love to move in with you." you exclaimed and he laughed, tilting your chin to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
"one day," he whispered, kissing you softly, "I'm gonna put a ring on your finger" he promised, eyes boring deep into your own.
you felt your heart hammering again, melting into a puddle of warm, happy goo.
"I'd want nothing more" you whispered back.
you could so get used to this. because being with bradley just felt oh so high school.
a/n : here we go! the first of the tortured poets department project! i hope you enjoy reading it as much I loved writing it!! as always, comments, likes, reblogs, feedback etc is always appreciated!! 🤍 also this is my first top gun work so please!! be kind!!
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Slow Down, You're Gonna Crash
Chapter Six
Summary: Being a Verstappen means realising that you'll never be as good as her brother. She knew it. That was why she ran away to California. Of course, she's gonna fall for the older, naval aviator. And, of course, it pisses her family off.
Bradley Bradshaw x F1!Driver Reader
Warnings: distressed reader, Google translated Dutch
1.3K
The Bronco was silent as she tried to get her breathing under control. Her mouth tasted horrible, bad enough to make her want to throw up again.
But she couldn't, not in the Bronco.
Instead she looked at Bradley. Bradley, she had helped her into the Bronco. Bradley, who had given her space to breathe. Bradley, who looked undeniably pissed.
"Roos," she began, still a little breathless.
But she couldn't say much else, not before he began. "I thought you said you'd sobered up," he said, voice low.
Her heartbeat sped up in her chest. The words she wanted to say, they weren't leaving her lips.
"God, if I'd have known you were gonna get this pissed, I would have left you at home."
She stuttered something out, not quite a complete sentence. She couldn't manage a completely sentence as Bradley shook his head at her.
If only he'd just fucking look at her. Then he'd see. He'd see that she wasn't drunk, not in the slightest. No, she was feeling entirely too sober.
"Ik ben verdomd niet dronken!" She suddenly cried, slipping back into her native tongue. It was something she'd done since her karting days. When she was a shy kid, unable to hide behind her dad, she found comfort in her native tongue.
The tears fell freely after that. It was like the floodgates had opened. Hiding her head in her hands, she sobbed.
Bradley felt his expression immediately soften as he pulled over. "Shit, baby," he whispered as he reached for her.
But she flattened herself against the passenger side door. "Raak me niet aan," she said as she furiously wiped under her eyes, trying to stop the tears.
But still Bradley was reaching for her. His hands on her only made things worse. She flinched away and pushed him, desperately scrambling to put as much distance between them as she could. It was a miracle she didn't open the door and start running, but her legs wouldn't have taken her very far.
"Talk to me," he said, dropping the nicknames. "Tell me what's going on, what I can do to help."
But she just shook her head. Bradley let out a sigh, returning his gaze to the front of the car. He'd never felt this level of helplessness before.
"Take me home, Bradley," she whispered, this time in English. Bradley. Not Rooster, not Roo. Bradley. He spared her one last look before he drove her back to his place.
Her tears kept falling, but there was nothing he could do. He pulled into the driveway and killed the ignition. Before she could reach for the door and let herself out, he spoke. "You're not drunk, are you?" He asked, and she shook her head. "So, it was something you saw happen with the race."
She didn't answer that one. Pulling open the door to the Bronco, she climbed out, slammed it shut (well, it wasn't exactly a slam, but still forceful enough to have Bradley wincing), and went to wait by the front door.
Bradley watched her as he climbed out of the Bronco and locked it behind him. The tears had stopped, but she still had her arms wrapped around herself, was still sniffling and wiping at her nose.
Wordlessly he pushed open the front door and let her in.
As soon as the door was open, she strode open and made her way to the bedroom.
Bradley was a little slower. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He filled it quickly and topped it up with ice, just the way she liked.
When he turned around, there she was, dressed in her pyjamas and grabbing a blanket from the basket beside the armchair. "What're you doing?"
"Sleeping," she mumbled as her head hit the arm of the chair.
Bradley shook his head. "Don't do this, baby," he mumbled as he strode over. "Come join me in the bed."
But, when he reached for her, she was retreating, quickly shaking her head. "Please, Roos," she squeaked. "Please don't touch me right now."
His hands dropped to his sides. "Okay," he said quietly. "But please take the bed. I'll sleep in here."
She went to argue, but Bradley fixed her with a stern look. "Okay," she agreed. She took the glass of water Bradley was offering her and headed to the bedroom.
She wasn't drunk, Bradley knew that. But he also knew her well enough to know that she wasn't going to tell him any time soon.
There was no way he was going to sleep. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began watching YouTube.
His page was full of videos about military planes. It was a bit of a cliché, that he sat on his sofa on nights he couldn't sleep abd watched videos of people restoring outdated military aircrafts. But that wasn't what he did this time.
No, he went to the search bar and typed in her name.
Hundreds of videos came up, and Bradley couldn't wait to watch every single one. The first was old, from when she was just a child. She was grinning a wide, partially toothed smile as she spoke to the interviewer in a language he couldn't understand. She looked so damn happy, helmet tucked under her arm as she spoke animatedly.
He clicked on the next video.
It was a compilation of her overtaking other drivers on track. He actually couldn't tell which car was hers. There was no number fifty three and every car looked different in almost every clip. It was only when she pulled up in front of the number one spot, climbed out of the car and held up her finger that he realised she was in the number nine red and white car.
Bradley didn't know how long he sat there, watching old videos of her. He'd seen her happy, like just that morning at the beach, but he'd never seen her happy like this. He didn't understand any of the informative videos about her, but he still watched them, only because they had more videos of her.
His phone gave him a low battery warning, but he didn't much care. He kept watching. And then he found the videos of her and her friends, all of them dressed in red shirts as they did silly little challenges.
When the bedroom door opened, Bradley looked up. He watched as she walked down the stairs, changed out of her pyjama shorts and into one of his shirts.
She said nothing as she came to sit beside him on the sofa. She pushed his phone out of the way and climbed into his lap. "The bed's too big without you," she mumbled, but her brows were still furrowed and she still wore a sour expression.
He didn't settle his arms around her, not like he wanted to. No, he took a moment to just look at her. She'd definitely still been crying after she'd gone to bed. "Is that because of me?" Bradley asked gently as he wiped his thumb across her cheek.
She shook her head and moved his hands for him, settling them around her waist. "You certainly didn't help by being an asshole, Roos. But no, you're not the cause of this."
His gentle fingers moved her hair from her face before settling back on her waist. "You wanna tell me what is the cause of all this?" He asked, hand falling back to her waist. He squeezed her hip and it was so damn comforting.
"Not today," she replied, reaching for the phone she'd knocked out of his hand. "Whatcha watching?" She asked, holding the phone up in front of their faces.
Bradley couldn't hide his red cheeks if he tried. A laugh bubbled from her lips as she pressed play. "I remember this! Oscar kept stealing the food I was meant to be trying so that he and Logan would win," she said as she settled down against his chest.
It was a good memory from her motorsport career, that much was clear. Bradley kissed the top of her head as they continued to watch. But they only got to the end of the video before her eyes were shut and she was snoring lightly, drooling against his chest.
Bradley drifted off slightly, but he didn't fall asleep. No, he watched a few more videos, this time from her time in Formula One. He watched her crash into the wall, watched her celebrate her highest points finish of the year.
This was the same feeling that flying gave him, he was sure. She'd be back in a car in no time, he thought, knew she'd be doing all she could to make that true. And then she'd be out of San Diego, out of his life, forever.
Bradley held her just a little tighter after that.
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We're on this together...(Chapter III):
Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader
Summary: Sometimes life can get rough but no matter how often and how much people hurt eachother,loving someone is never a waste.
Warnings: MAJOR SMUT (MDI), infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Mostly angst.
February 14 2022.
"Roo, don't stop."
Bradley speeds up his body, hiding his face in his wife's neck, where he makes sure to leave purple marks and bites as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist.
He's touching your weak spot and he knows it, grinding himself against you every time he moves forward, causing you to let out little moans and arch your back, digging your nails into his skin.
Bradley didn't stop, ignoring the ache in his muscles. His endurance was better than a normal person, for God's sake, because he was a military pilot, but this "love making" had become painful, boring and no longer felt special for him.
He definitely missed the times when you both were younger and he could go for hours without getting tired, but he wouldn't trade his gift for anything, when he finally married the love of his life he had grown old like everyone else, they weren't those horny college kids anymore. But sometimes he still wishes they were.
His wet kisses against your jaw distracted you, ypu let out a moan from your throat and felt your orgasm getting closer and closer.
He moved his head down to kiss and lick your breasts, and you buried a hand in his hair, tugging at the strands. He kisses above your heart like he always does.
It's late at night, everywhere is quiet and only the sound of their bodies can be heard, they are completely intimate, silent but telling each other everything.
"I'm so close..." After a while he mumbled quietly, his voice hoarse. "Baby."
With that sound, you tightened around him with a reflex you can't control.
When it comes to Bradley, his whole body responds. “I'm close too, fuck.” He said, leaving kisses on your cheeks.
"Please, fill me up,baby."
And with that, Bradley cums inside you.
It's short, but it takes your breath away and pleasure fills your body in the way only his body does. Your juices paint his walls white and it doesn't take long for him to cum too.
You cling to him, you don't want to let go, so you kiss his face and breathe deeply.
Close to three minutes pass and he pulls away from your body to talk, but you're already asleep.
It's the fifth time they've done it in a week and it's only Thursday, he thinks about the last time they made love this long and this often.
And he didn't know if it was because he was desperate for your touch or because he just wanted to have a baby, but he missed talking to you.
Bradley misses you.
He is missing his one and only wife.
March 12 2022.
As you finished throwing two negative test in the trash, you receive a call from Blake ,Jake's wife. You pick up the phone while passing by your empty bedroom.
“Hello, Y/N?” Your friend's voice rings out.
"Hello." You replie, unable to fake a happiness that isn't there anymore.
"How are you sweetheart?" She asks and you are in your classic voice when you say 'I'm fine'.
"Is Rooster with you?"
You looked away from your laptop when you heard her question. "I thought he was with Jake?"
"Mhm, no. And he's not returning our calls either. Jake and Nat has called him multiple times,they were going to ask him if he wanted to come to Hard Deck."
That's when you started to worry and after a quick goodbye, you hung up the phone.
It's eleven o'clock at night, where is he?
The door opens just in time and you quickly walked towards Bradley, who placed his keys, jacket, and shoes on the shelf without looking at you.
"Blake called, where were you?" You ask, crossing your arms.
“I don't want to argue right now, Y/N.” he mutters, moving past you towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and drinking a bottle of beer under your gaze.
"Who said we were going to argue?" Your sarcastic laughter echoes in the room. "I just want to know where my husband was."
"I was at Javy's, God, calm down." Bradley replies, fed up with your behavior, and you look at him confused. You stood in front of him.
"'Calm down?'"
He lowers his head and frowns. "Yeah, you've been... insanely sad lately."
You laugh in disbelief, feeling the anger gnawing at your body.
"Maybe I'm not upset, maybe you're too calm."
Bradley doesn't even look at you and walks towards the home office, but you,his wife, follow in his footsteps, looking for answers.
“What am i so calm about, Y/N?” He asks with his back to you and pulls out notes from his notebook to start writing. "My job is very stressful these days, I don't know whether I will go to deployment tomorrow or in a month, and I don't want to leave you alone in this situation. I'm not calm at all."
“Even though we've been trying to have a baby for months,almost a year without success, you seem pretty calm, like you – don't mind.”
The empty bottle falls onto the table with a hard clatter and you slowly turn to look into his eyes. His face is serious and you can see that his dark hazel eyes are dark and slightly watery.
You're both hurting when it comes to the baby.
"Do you seriously think I don't care?" He slowly walks towards you and you swallows dryly, knowing you touched a soft spot for him. For both of you. "This is destroying us and you know it."
"Don't say that, nothing can destroy us." You interrupt him by grabbing his hand, you feel your eyes aee getting watery and your throat is feeling hurt, but Bradley lets it go.
"These last few months- I..." You wrinkled your nose, feeling the tears forming in your eyes.
“I've been nothing but a sex toy to you, all i do is fuck you to get something, we don't talk anymore, we don't cuddle anymore, it's like I married a ghost. I miss you and you don't realise that. I just don't know what you want from but i am so tired and sick of it."
“Bradley…-” You whispered in surprise. Not expecting any of this.
“I want everything back to the way it was before, I want my best friend, my wife,my everything, my soul back. It feels like we're only going backwards and you don't love me anymore." One single tear drop is falling from his eyes to his now reddish cheek.
You stutter, bursting into tears in front of him and closing your eyes, allowing the yourself to cry against his chest to hug him.
You both hold each other tightly and let go after holding on for a long time.
Bradley was having a terrible time too, and you didn't notice because you were too busy trying to make your "dream" come true.
"I'm sorry,baby. I love you." You hold his cheeks to look into his eyes and nods as the tears continue to flow. "Baby, what I did was so selfish."
"It's okay,my love. It's kind of funny how short our arguments are." He smiles, caressing you soft cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. "Just...promise me something."
"Everything." You respond immediately.
"We'll see a doctor."
Oh god.... I love him and i think she is too🥹🥲
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Startin over | Part 13
Masterlist
Summary: After another date with Jake and Bradley, y/n's upcomming migraine will not stay the only problem. The Admiral und Maverick have bad news for the aviators.
Trigger Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, past abusive relationship, toxic male, migraine, throwing up, au and ooc, poly relationship
A/N: This chapter is a bit longer but I didn't want to split it. Please let me know what you think.
Word Count: 5.4+ k
"Wow, Hangman. I must admit you look really good in a suit." Rooster steps into the kitchen where the blonde pilot stands at the kitchen island waiting for their partners to get ready. He strokes softly over Jake's back, getting a smirk from the other man as a reply.
"Where's y/n? We need to go in the next five minutes." Jake asks impatiently but taking the chance to take a look at Bradley who wears a crisp white button down, the first two buttons open which gives a sneak of his muscular chest and a black suit.
"Princess, Jake is a bit impa-" Bradley nearly chokes on his own words when y/n steps out of her bedroom. Her short and tight black dress is hugging her body perfectly. "I'm ready, is this ok?" She turns around to give her boyfriends an all over view of her chosen dress. She's clearly not wearing a bra in the backless garment. Jake turns around when he hears the clicking of heels on the hard wood floor.
"Good Lord, sweet Jesus help me…" The blonde aviator takes a step closer to meet his girlfriend half way, taking one of her smaller hands in his and turning her around to get one more look at her bare back. "…okay? This is not okay, sweetheart. This is fucking amazing. You look so amazing. Beautiful. I guess Bradley also wouldn't mind if we stay here and enjoying the view." He kisses her head.
"Oh no, guys. You promised me another date. So here I am." The young woman says with an excited smile. She looked forward to their date, just the three of them enjoying a slow night out in a fancy restaurant.
"You're right, princess. Let's go, otherwise we gonna be late and we have to be at work tomorrow, so let's enjoy our evening." The brunette aviator tucks y/n in his side, gently caressing her bare back. "But Jake's right, you look absolutely amazing. We have to keep a close eye on you otherwise some rich guy will steal you from us."
---
The restaurant the boys chose to have their date with y/n was amazing. Not too snobbish but fancy enough to spoil their girlfriend rotten. Unfortunately they all have to work tomorrow but with Rooster as the designated driver Jake and y/n share an expensive bottle of wine. But during the five-course menu y/n feels that something is wrong. She knows this strange taste in her mouth, it often is a clear sign for an incoming migraine attack. When she's really lucky it will be the only symptom despite a small headache, but on her bad days it means that a bad migraine will attack in the next hours or at the next day.
"You not so hungry anymore, princess?" Bradley asks as he sees his girlfriend second plate still half full despite the small portions.
Y/n doesn't want to crash their night. Jake had to pull some strings to get a reservation at short notice and all three of them were happy when he announced that he got a table for three for that night. No, she can't tell them her bad feeling about the very prominent metallic taste in her mouth and how the smell of the food is currently too strong for her. She has to stay put and hope that this will not turn out as a bad attack and praying that she will get off lightly this time. In the past she often felt ashamed when she fell ill, either her kidney acting up or her migraine coming back. Being vulnerable and asking for help is something she had to learn when she moved in with the two naval pilots. They were always supporting and caring when she felt sick but still she is a bit afraid that there will come the day when it's going to be too much for the two men, when they're annoyed that she is once more sick or feeling bad from a nasty headache.
"Sure I am, but there are three more courses to come and I'm excited for the dessert. Meringue with ice cream and fruits is my weakness." Y/n tries to reassure her boyfriends. Don't show them weakness, they're going to leave you one day. Who wants to always take care of their whiny girlfriend?
---
Fortunately y/n got through the evening without a grand attack. The metallic taste stayed in her mouth a dull pressure built up in her head but other than that she was spared of feeling worse.
Now laying in bed with Jake and Bradley brings her the much needed rest. With her smaller form in the middle of both pilots she feels safe and loved. Soon her eyes drop shut.
Jake doesn't know what woke him up in the middle of the night. With one tired glance at the clock on the nightstand he knows that it's way too early for his alarm. Another kick lands to his thigh not strong enough to hurt him but enough to wake him up. He turns around and is just fast enough to catch the small fist of his girlfriend before it lands in his face. That must've been the reason for his early awakening. Y/n is trashing and moving in her sleep. Usually she's a very calm sleeper, when she doesn't suffer from a nightmare. But today she's constantly moving and turning in her sleep, the sheets already tangled around her body. Small whimpers leaving her occasionally. It's still dark in the bedroom but Jake's eyes adjust fast so he can clearly see the crease on his girlfriend's face. With a gentle touch he strokes some stray wisps of her hair behind her ear. With his thumb he gently runs over her forehead in a soothing manner. It seems like her dream isn't so bad that he has to wake her up, she's not crying or screaming in her sleep, just mumbling some unintelligible words so he tries to sooth her while she's still asleep. Waking her up from her deep slumber is always startling her and he doesn't want to scare so he tries to calm her down this way. The blonde aviator tucks her into his warm chest after he untangled her limps from the blanket and lays it over both of them to keep her somewhat chilled body warm. In a hushed and soft voice he whispers sweet nothing into her ear when she once more tries to kick her legs and pushes her hand into his chest. "Shhh, you're safe, babygirl. It's just me Jake-y. I got you, baby."
---
“Are you ready to go? Where’s y/n?” Bradley asks as he put his mug away in the dishwasher already in his navy clothes ready to start the day and head to the base.
Jake was the first of the three to wake up and get out of the warm comfort of the bed. There was no use in staying any longer. He had a hard night with y/n trashing and wiggling in his arms. He held her close and soothed her but shortly after he fell asleep she started to whimper and turning again.
“I let her sleep a bit longer. She had a rough night, kept tossing and turning. Even kicked and hit me. Don’t what was wrong with her, but I guess she needed a bit more sleep this morning. We will meet you at the base.”
Bradley looks concerned when his partner tells him about the bad night y/h had. Hopefully it stays the exception. Since the three of them were in a relationship and they often sleep together in a bed y/n hasn’t had a bad night or a night terror.
“Oh okay. I keep your class on their toes until you arrive.” The brunette pilot places a kiss on Hangman’s cheek and hurries out the door, that way at least one of them will be on time.
---
Waking up dizzy and still with the metallic taste in her mouth y/n immediately knows that her day is going to be rough. She feels like she hasn’t slept one bit this night, her limps feeling heavy and a dull ache is forming behind her eyes. But she has to get up now and get ready for work. She has tasks she wants to finish today and to call in sick is definitely not an option. She will drag herself through the day without alerting her boyfriends that something is wrong with her and just go to bed early in the evening. Yes, that’s seems to be the best battle plan but only if the major migraine attack stays away.
---
Jake and Bradley are busy with training their recruits and to prepare them for their flight training later that day. Y/n is thankful for that for once, so she can suffer in her office in silence. When her mobile chirps and alerts her that she has a notification she’s happy to see that it’s a message from Bradley. She unlocks her phone and is greeted with a cute selfie of both her boys standing in all their glory already wearing their flight suits.
Roo-y: Hello Princess. We’re about to start the flight training. Having a tight schedule today <3 We’ll see u in the afternoon. Love u!
Her heart starts to pick up. She really loves these two morons. She types a fast reply in hopes that they will see her message before they start their jets.
Looking all good in your fight suits *.* Please be careful. See u later <3
She wants to desperately write an ‘I love you’ back, but wants her first ‘I love you’ to be told in person. She wants to see their faces, looking in their eyes. And she needs a bit more courage to do so.
---
It always starts this way, with a blind spot in the middle of her field of vision which will spread soon to the edges until it will morph into tiny little flashes. The dull ache behind her eyes is now slowly developing into full migraine attack. The letters and numbers on the sheet in front of her are growing hazy and the midday sun which filters through her office windows feels like a knife stabs in her sensitive eyes. This is going to be bad with no way out for the young woman. She knows the drill. Soon she will be dizzy and nauseous with a skull piercing headache which makes her incapable of acting. Her hands start to shake, what is she going to do? Both Bradley and Jake are in the air now, probably will be there for some more time. She has to try to sustain for some hours until they’re ready to drive her home. With trembling hands she rummages through the drawer of her wooden desk, desperately searching for some painkillers to take away the edge of the splitting headache. The items in the drawer are all blurred and it’s hard for the young woman to think straight. Dizzy and with weak legs she stands up from her desk, she needs to get to the bathroom. Cold water on her wrists should help with her dizziness a tiny bit. She nearly collapses before she can even get to her closed office door. A loud knock is bringing her out of her confused thoughts.
“Ms. y/ln. I just got that… Ms. y/ln, are you okay?” The Admiral immediately sees that something is wrong with the younger woman. She’s standing on shaky legs white as ghost in front of him using the desk as support. He instantly grabs her by her shoulders and leads her back into her chair.
“Do you need a doctor, Miss?” He crouches down in front the smaller woman and one more time lays a hand on one of her shoulders to get her attention, growing worried when she looks at him with unfocused eyes.
“Admiral, Sir…” She tries to stand up, she has highly respect of the man in front of her. Not only because he is her superior. When she started as the new and first IT-specialist at the base he was, despite all the warnings from the Daggers, always friendly and supportive with her. He never gave her the impression she’s not part of the team. As a civilian she had no idea how everything works, let alone how to act around the Admiral or other highly ranked Navy members. But it seems like he has a spot for her, so he was very loose with her from the start.
“Please stay seated, Miss. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Bad migraine, I’m sorry, Sir.” Her words already a bit slurred.
With an understanding nod he pats her shoulder. “Okay. How do we do it then? Rooster and Hangman are still in the air. But I don’t want you to wait here in your condition. Let me get someone to bring you home. I would feel better if I know you can lay down at home and take some painkillers. Is that okay, Miss y/ln?” With both her boyfriends still in the air the Admiral has only one option, he needs to asks Welsh to take the sick woman home. The guy is as useless as they come. And he can’t wait to kick him of his base already. But to take his IT-specialist home seems like a simple enough task for this scapegrace.
---
That's why she finds herself now in a Navy issued SUV on the way to their shared house. Despite the spacious driver's cab she feels cramped. The tangy smell of the man's aftershave increases the feeling nausea. Her field of vision is still dominated by colorful flashes and a blind spot on the right side. That and the hammering pain in her head which throbs with every heartbeat makes it difficult for her to concentrate on the streets. With Welsh so close to her she feels vulnerable. From the beginning the guy gave her the creeps. At his first days on the base he tried to flirt with her but not in a funny or friendly way like Jake or Bradley did. His behavior, his choice of words, his dark eyes which always seem to follow her made her scared from the start. She prays that the drive to Jake's and Bradley's house is as fast as possible over and she can stumble into their cozy home and hide herself in one of the boy's beds.
"So…how is it to live with two Naval pilots in a house? If they're as bossy as they're on base, I should probably feel sorry for you." Welsh's loud voice brings her out of her daydream. His devilish laugh at the end of his sentence makes her flinch. Why is he starting a conversation with her? She heard the Admiral told him that she has a bad migraine attack. Her heartrate picks up which only increases the painful throbbing behind her eyes.
"It's good. They're good roommates." She answers in a quiet voice in great hope that this would end the unpleasant conversation. Y/n feels the man's eyes on her after he stops at a red light.
"Hmm, good roommates… But what if, let's say you want to bring a guy home?" His voice gets a dangerous undertone and y/n feels more and more unsafe in the presence of the man beside her.
"I - I don't bring men home…" But before she can finish her sentence she feels a finger tracing down her arm, the short fingernail scraping her sensitive skin. Y/n flinches and withdraws her arm as fast as she can. A shudder is passing through her body. She can feel the bile rising in her throat.
"A beautiful woman like you doesn't bring guys home? Playing hard to get, darling?"
Y/n feels relegated right back into her past. Feeling small helpless at the hand of a sadistic man. She curls further into the seat turning her body to be closer to the passenger door, away from Welsh. The line he traced with his finger is burning on her skin. She is disgusted. Her heart is racing but she holds back the tears with all her might. She doesn't want to show more weakness by crying in the car in front of him. Fortunately he ends the forced conversation at this point, looking confident with the outcome of the intimidation of the small woman in the passenger seat. First rule: show them who is in charge, intimidate them. Then go further.
When Welsh turns into the all too familiar road and finally parks the car in the driveway of their home she hastily fumbles with her seatbelt. She can't stay one second longer in the presence of this man.
"Wow, nice house. Really cute, good neighborhood. I guess it's really cozy in there…"
When y/n stumbles out of the car she can hear his voice shouting after her. "I can help you inside, darling."
But she just hurries to the front door without looking back. She has to open the door and then she's safe. Her hands are shaking so badly and her vision problems are making it difficult for her to get the key into the lock. In her panic she doesn't notice that Welsh is already backing out of the driveway.
---
Y/n doesn't know how long she sat there, on the cold hardwood floor with her back to the front door. When she finally unlocked the door her dizziness was so bad that she only managed to close and lock the door and let herself slide down onto the floor. With her throbbing head in her hands she started to cry silently. Panic gasps tumbled out of her mouth, her heart seemed to explode in her ribcage.
On wobbly legs she finally has the strength to make her way into her bathroom to get her migraine medication and a glass of water. Clad in only an old Navy shirt of Bradley or Jake she crawls in Jake's bed, inhaling his lingering scent, eventually feeling safe.
---
The training session was greatly successful, leaving the recruits and their instructors exhausted but content. On days like this Bradley and Jake are happy that they and the Dagger Crew accept the generous offer to be permanent at Miramar, teaching the new fighter pilots of the US Navy.
"Finally finished for today, I'm so ready to go home." Bradley says as he looks at his phone.
"Yeah, let's get our girl and head home." Jake replies in a light tone patting his partner on the shoulder. He can't wait to get home with Rooster and y/n, envelope both in his arms and cuddle for the rest of the evening on their big and comfy couch. Before both reach the locker room to store away their helmets and flight suits a loud voice is interrupting their chatter.
"Hangman, Rooster. The Admiral and I have to talk to you. Nice training by the way." Maverick instructs them clearly aware of the annoyed looks he receives from both men.
---
"At ease! Take a seat" Bradley and Jake do as the Admiral tells them. Both clearly surprised why the Admiral and Maverick have to talk to them at this time of the day after their long flight training.
"First of all, I had to send Ms. y/ln home late in the morning. She was feeling unwell, suffering from a migraine. Welsh was so friendly and took her home."
Both men share a worried look, Jake nearly on the verge to storm out of the Admiral's office. Maverick's firm hand holding him in his seat.
"I don't want to hold you two here any longer. But Mr. Mitchell has important news for you." The Admiral knows y/n's past. Before she could start to work at the base he had to do a detailed background check. But with her high reputation her former employer gave her and Maverick's powers of persuasion he could overlook the fact that she is a civilian and that her ex could be a possible safety risk. When Pete told him her whole story, the reason why she has to move states that fast, his heart went out for her. For outsiders he always looks like the clinical Navy Admiral, but deep down he has a big heart and a great soft spot for his young IT-specialist. So he dearly understands the huge protectiveness his two aviators feel for her.
"I know that your contract clearly says that you two are permanent instructors for TopGun, without any long term…"
"We are not going on another suicide mission." Jake interrupts Pete immediately. In no case he or Bradley are going on another mission, gamble with their life, leaving y/n.
"Seresin, keep calm!" The Admiral barges in. Jake's posture stiffens but indicates Maverick to continue.
"The USS Harry S. Truman needs some instructors on the carrier. Phoenix and Fanboy will accompany you. Bob and Coyote are going to supervise your trainees at the base."
"How long?" Bradley looks as unamused as Jake. Both don't want to leave their girlfriend alone. Of course she is a grown woman and can handle herself but their relationship is still very new and he knows that they would constantly worry about her when they're away. With her health issues she doesn't rely on help, but both would feel better if one of them would stay back home.
"We assume that you will stay there for at least two weeks. But it will depend on how fast you can train the crew. The good news is that the carrier is currently stationed in the pacific near Hawaii and will stay nearby during the training mission." The Admiral rises to speak to the men.
"When do we have to fly out?" Jake asks while clenching his teeth.
---
The drive home was silent, a dreading silence with both men deep in thought. With heavy hearts and worried for their girlfriend who is probably still suffering from her migraine attack. They have to leave Miramar in three days. Thursday they're going to fly out to the USS Harry Truman and they have yet to tell their girlfriend, their currently sick girlfriend. How could that somewhat decent day turns out to be such a disappointment.
---
"The door is locked?!" Bradley states when he tries to open the front door of their house. Usually y/n doesn't lock the front door when she is at home, she did that a lot at the beginning of her living with Rooster and Hangman. But nowadays she feels safe enough to not lock the door when she's inside the house, in addition to that it's not possible to open their front door from the outside without a key.
Both men step into their cozy home as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake up their sick girlfriend in case she's still resting.
The brunette pilot opens y/n's bedroom door slowly and pokes his head inside the room, but her bed is empty and untouched. She has to made herself comfortable in one of their bedrooms, seeking comfort in one of their beds. That's the moment the two men hear painful coughs and retching coming out of the master bathroom.
Jake is the first to open the door to the grand bathroom which is used usually by the two men because y/n has her own en-suite bathroom. And there she is, sitting miserable on the cold tiles in front the toilet violently gagging with her whole body shaking like a leave.
"Oh baby…" Jake wastes no time and kneels immediately beside the smaller woman. But to his surprise she flinches away from him when he touches her back in a soothing manner. Her eyes fly open and there's a clear look of panic in her big eyes. She needs a moment to recognize one of her boyfriends beside her when another violent wave of nausea hits her like a train.
"It's okay y/n. I got you, don't fight it." Jake reassures her while supporting her body when she starts to throw up once again. She reaches blindly for Jake, squeezing his thigh weakly with a clammy hand. Bradley sits on her other side running a cool washcloth over her neck, catching a tear that makes its way down her pale cheeks. When there's finally nothing more in her system to throw up and also the dry heaves stop she slumps her body into Jake's.
"You done, sweetheart?" he asks in a worried tone while supporting her body to keep her in a sitting position. When he looks at her face he sees how pale she is almost ashen with cold sweat coating her forehead.
"Migraine." The small woman whispers even her own voice is hurting in her head. "M-medication." Her voice slightly slurred.
"You due for another round of your painkillers? I will get them and something for the nausea." Bradley strokes her cheek gently before he stands up to make his way to her bathroom to get the much needed painkillers and something to prevent her from throwing up more.
She curls further into Jake's warm body when he starts to massage her temples. He picks up the cool washcloth to put it back on y/n's neck but the sudden cold feeling surprises the trembling girl and her hand flies to Jake's chest fisting his shirt in an attempt ground herself.
"J-Jake." She gasps looking up at the blonde man holding her in his arms.
"I'm here, sweetcakes. You ready to get up?"
She nods her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. Despite her bad migraine attack Jake's odor doesn't make her sick, it grounds her, remind her that she's safe here, that she's home. On the contrary to the strong aftershave of Welsh. She shudders, she tries to shove the thought of his fingers touching her arm and his strong words in the back of her head.
After brushing her teeth to get the disgusting taste out of her mouth Jake takes her back to his bed. Tucking her in after Bradley gave her the medication to finally give her the release from the hammering headache she already suffers for hours.
"Can you stay with me? Please…" Y/n whispers as both her boyfriends kiss her forehead.
"Of course. We change and then we will lay down with you." Bradley caresses her cheek. He and Jake have to talk first, but he keeps that from her. They both know they have to talk to her as fast as possible but not when she is suffering from a bad migraine attack and is barely coherent. A small 'thank you' can be heard as the aviators leave the bedroom. She is the best that ever happened to them, that fact is clear.
---
"Hey, come here." Bradley opens his arms, he knows that Jake always suffers when y/n is sick, nearly as much as she does. But due to the situation that they have to fly out in the next days and leave her here alone he needs a bit more affection. Jake doesn't hesitate and gladly hugs his partner, he needs this comfort now. He would feel a lot better when he knows how long their deployment on the carrier will last, how long they have to leave y/n alone.
"I'm gonna miss her, Rooster. I'm worried to leave her."
Bradley tightens his hold he has on the blonde aviator. He is worried, too. But he doesn't know why and that scares him the most. Y/n is capable to be alone, even sick she can take care of herself, but she shouldn't. She should have them at her side, she suffered long enough alone on the hands of her ex. With Jake and Bradley at her side she should always be safe and never lonely.
"Me too, I will miss her too. We have to tell her as soon as possible. Hopefully she will feel better tomorrow."
---
The mattress dips beside her a big figure is crawling under the sheets she's huddled under. Y/n lets out a small whimper as she feels cold air spreads under the warm blanket.
"Shh, sweetheart. Go back to sleep." Jake speaks in a hushed tone as he tucks his girlfriend into his muscular chest. Her small hands wander immediately over his ribcage further up to his chest and rest directly over his heart. Felling the heartbeat of either one of her boyfriends is always calming her down and lulling her back so sleep. But she misses the other aviator dearly. "Roo-y?" She whispers into the dark room in great hope that her brunette partner is also joining them.
"I'm here, princess." She hears his deep voice behind her, a soft kiss is placed on the shell of her ear. With a content sigh she grabs one of his hands as he lays behind her, his chest pressing into her back. Finally she's in between the two man she calls her boyfriends. Before she's finally asleep again a nearly inaudible 'I love you' is coming out of her mouth. She finally said it, she loves them with all her heart. Her body goes limp, feeling safe and content to sleep off her headache.
---
"Morning." Bradley's voice still sick with sleep brings Jake out of his daydream. Both men didn't sleep that well last night. Thinking and overthinking how to tell their girlfriend that they have to fly out, teaching some morons on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the pacific ocean.
"Morning, babe. Coffee?" The blonde pilot asks as he's enveloped in a loving hug, feeling the other man's broad chest pressing into his back.
"Please, had a fucking shitty night." Bradley grunts as he ends the hug to get two mugs out of the cupboard.
Before the brunette pilot can rummage any further in of the drawers Jake grabs one of his hands.
"You heard her, yesterday before she fell asleep?" Jake asks looking deep into the warm eyes of his partner.
"Yes I did. Made my heart skip a beat. Fuck, I'm so thankful that she stumbles into our life." Even half asleep and not more than a shy and soft whisper both men heard the three most precious words out of y/n's mouth. To say the timing was awful with them going away is an understatement. But it is what it is. They have to tell her and make the best out of the next two days before their departure.
"Yes, but we have to tell her that we will leave her…"
---
Y/n wakes up slightly confused taking the heavy painkillers combined the anti-nausea medication leaves her always slightly confused and dizzy the next day. Fortunately the deadly painful headache is just a dull ache behind her eyes. She takes a look at the alarm on the nightstand and she knows that she has to hurry up she is already late for work. Peeling herself out of the warm and comfy bed leaving the content feeling of being safe and sound in Jake's bed behind she slightly stumbles as she makes her way to the door. She needs a proper shower so she has to go into her own bathroom in case she doesn't want to wash her hair with the guy's all-in-5 shower gel. She grabs the water glass from last night paddles with her bare feet to the door opening it quietly when she immediately hears Jake and Bradley talking.
"You heard her, yesterday before she fell asleep?" She can hear Jake asking.
Her hand flies to her mouth. She didn't dream it. She really said 'I love you' to them. She wanted to tell them at the right moment not when she just throw up her guts, with messy hair and confused from pain and medication.
"Yes, but we have to tell her that we will leave her…"
They will leave her. She said she loves them and they will leave her. Her hands start to tremble. She knew that this moment will come and here it is. She is certain that she has too much baggage, is too clingy and too vulnerable. And now yesterday puking her guts out like a disgusting little girl and then she telling them 'I love you' must have been the last straw. She ruined everything. The trembling in her hands increases and with a loud bang the water glass in her hand dashes to shivers on the floor just beneath her feet.
@djs8891
@darksparklesficrecs
#hangman x reader#rooster x reader#tgm#new writer#top gun fanfic#jake seresin x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#top gun
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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger
Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.
His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.
There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.
Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.
Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.
Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.
It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.
Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.
Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.
He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.
There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.
Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.
This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.
"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.
My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?
This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.
He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.
I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.
"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.
Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.
Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.
Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.
Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.
Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?
Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.
Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.
Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.
I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.
On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.
Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.
Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.
And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.
Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?
He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.
That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?
He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.
Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.
"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.
He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.
What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.
It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.
Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?
"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.
No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.
He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.
When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.
Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.
"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.
How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?
Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.
Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?
"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.
Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.
Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.
Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?
Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.
My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.
He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.
Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.
Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.
He texted you back.
Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.
With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.
CALL FROM Pretty Girl
Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."
A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"
He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"
When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."
Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.
"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."
Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."
Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"
Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"
"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."
"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."
Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."
If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"
"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"
Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."
Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."
He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."
You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."
"Just okay?"
"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."
Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."
"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"
He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.
"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.
"Totally naked."
"Fuck."
"Send me another one?"
"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.
Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.
"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."
He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"
The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."
A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."
You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."
Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."
You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."
"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."
"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."
"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.
"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"
"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."
Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"
"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."
--------------------------
It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."
Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"
You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.
"Yeah. It's Rooster."
Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."
"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.
You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.
And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.
You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.
You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.
As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.
Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.
"Pretty Girl."
Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.
And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.
When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."
Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.
"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."
"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.
"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."
You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."
He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."
-------------------------
I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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Hotter Than Texas | Part I
(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.
Aka it's a road trip, strap in.
CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)
The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.
While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.
When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.
As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.
Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.
He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”
He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.
“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.
Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.
You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.
Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.
“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.
But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.
“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”
Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”
You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”
Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.
You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.
Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.
This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.
Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.
“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.
He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.
You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.
Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.
You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”
Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”
You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”
Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”
Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”
Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.
…
About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.
“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”
You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”
“How do you like it?” he asks.
“With a pinch of salt.”
Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”
Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”
You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”
“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.
Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.
Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.
Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.
He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.
You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.
Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”
Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.
But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”
Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.
Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.
Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.
Read Part 2
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#bradley bradshaw#rooster#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun#miles teller#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#rooster x reader#rooster top gun#rooster x you#rooster fanfiction#rooster fic#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x female reader#top gun fanfiction
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Bedside Manner
Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 8K
Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.
It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.
The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.
“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.
Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.
But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.
Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.
All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.
“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.
Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.
Normally.
But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.
“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.
You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.
The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.
You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.
It was supposed to be a fun day.
You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.
There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.
You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.
The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.
The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.
Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.
You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.
Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.
And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.
You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.
He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.
“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.
“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.
And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.
When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.
“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.
You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.
You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.
“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”
You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.
“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.
“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.
“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”
Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.
Respectfully, of course.
Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.
“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.
“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.
You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.
And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.
You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.
And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.
Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.
He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.
Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.
But he’s never made a move.
If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.
You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.
Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.
The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.
The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.
Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.
And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.
You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.
You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.
Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.
The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.
You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.
The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.
Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.
You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.
The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.
For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.
It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.
Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.
And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.
“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.
They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.
It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.
It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.
You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.
There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.
And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.
You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.
As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.
“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.
They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.
Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.
Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.
His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.
You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.
“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.
“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.
“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.
“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.
The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.
And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.
Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.
The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.
Just not like this.
With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.
Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.
Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.
Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”
“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.
“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.
“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.
You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.
She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.
“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.
“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.
You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.
And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.
The two of you silent and motionless.
You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.
His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.
“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.
“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”
Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.
“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.
You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.
“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.
He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.
You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.
All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.
You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.
This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.
You want the Bradley from earlier.
The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.
The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.
You want your Bradley.
The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.
The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.
You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.
For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.
“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”
We.
You wanted that with him.
You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.
The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.
Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.
When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.
“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.
“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.
Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.
“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.
He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.
It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.
He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.
It’s never felt this strained with him before.
It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.
Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.
He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.
He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.
“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.
When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.
“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”
“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.
“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.
You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?
He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.
“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”
“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”
“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.
“Ok, good,” he grumbles.
“Great,” you lob back.
His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.
“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.
“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.
A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”
Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.
You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.
Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.
“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.
“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.
And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.
“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.
He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.
“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.
Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.
“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”
He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.
“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.
The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.
“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”
“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.
Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”
The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.
“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”
“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”
You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.
“Bradley, the light.”
The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.
“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.
“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.
“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.
Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.
He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.
The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.
“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.
The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.
“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”
“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.
He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.
“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.
“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.
He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”
“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.
“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.
Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.
He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.
There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.
“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”
“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”
“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”
“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.
“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.
“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.
“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.
“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.
“Done.”
“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.
“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”
“And then you’ll kiss me?”
“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.
He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.
“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.
“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”
“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”
“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.
You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Guess we will,” he rasps.
Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.
You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.
There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.
You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.
Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.
You’ve got that forever feeling about him.
Oh, oh, oh.
Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.
This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!
The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster x female reader
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Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N
Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.
Master List
Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.
There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.
And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.
Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.
And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.
But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.
“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.
“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”
“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.
“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.
There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.
“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.
You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.
“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”
Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.
“I could get used to this.”
“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.
“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”
“What?”
“Take your shirt off.”
“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”
“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.
“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.
“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.
You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.
“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.
“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.
#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun: maverick#top gun#tgm fanfiction#tgm#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster fanfic#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x wife!reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#top gun rooster#rooster x you#rooster top gun#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw#rooster fluff#rooster#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader
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"honey, I'm home" SCREAMS Bradley Rooster Bradshaw
Bradley Bradshaw can not enter a room without letting everyone know he’s there. it’s probably something he inherited from his father, but he is one person who knows how to make an entrance.
The first time he had ever called out that ridiculous yet iconic line, was right after you moved in together. It had caught you off guard, making you round the corner with a questionable look on your face making sure you did in fact here him yell:
“honey, i’m home!” Bradley said again as you stood in the doorway.
“i see that,” You said, shaking your head at him, “And what is this announcement for?”
“Well,” He set down his duffle bag, “I thought I should tell you I was home,” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal, “So you didn’t think i was an intruder. We’ve only been living together…” Bradley checks his watch, “43 hours and 25 minutes.”
You smile at the mustached man in front of you, “Well thank you for announcing your presence and scaring any potential burglars away.”
“All a part of the ‘living with Bradley Bradshaw’ package you purchased.”
“Yeah?” You bit your lip, your eyes raking over the bit of chest hair that was poking out of the top of his black t-shirt, “What else is included in the package?”
“This,” Bradley quickly hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your new shared bedroom.
#g mail#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw blurb#rooster blurb#top gun blurb#top gun maverick blurb#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster imagine#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader
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i will follow you into the dark || bradley
"rooster" bradshaw
summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)
words: ~3.3k
warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO
a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)
I. meet me in the middle
“Mav!”
You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”
“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.
“Be more specific.”
“I am being specific, Captain.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Fine, I need your daughter.”
“You always need her for something.”
“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”
“Actually, I’m hungry.”
“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”
“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”
“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”
You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.
It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.
“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.
“And?”
“You can sit over there.”
“I don’t want to, though.”
“Alright, then.”
You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)
Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.
There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.
The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.
But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.
But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.
“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”
“Thanks…”
He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.
“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”
This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”
II. waiting on you
As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.
“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”
“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”
Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.
Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.
“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“No.”
“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”
You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.
Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”
“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.
“Ah. Makes sense.”
“So, we need to do something about it.”
“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”
“You’re so right, man.”
III. rose-tinted glasses
“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.
“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.
“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.
“Where?”
“I’m looking right at her.”
“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”
“No, you’re even better.”
You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.
“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”
Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.
“Wow…it sure is.”
He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.
Everything seems to fall into place.
IV. for you, i’d cross the line
“Y/N, hey.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”
You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.
You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.
The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.
“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”
“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”
“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.
It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.
You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.
Once again��you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.
V. saving grace
You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”
“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”
“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”
“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”
“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)
He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”
Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”
That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.
“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”
“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”
You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.
You’re never letting go, and neither is he.
epilogue—soul ties
“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”
His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.
He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.
“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”
“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”
You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.
“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”
Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.
—
10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.
“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.
You shake your head.
“Come on. It’s been all day.”
“No.”
“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”
“No,” you muttered bitterly.
“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”
“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”
“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”
“What,” you exhaled.
"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."
Your heart stops.
Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.
You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.
This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.
“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”
You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”
You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.
“Sweetheart…”
“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”
“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I waited ten hours.”
“You should’ve gone home and slept.”
Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”
He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”
Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.
As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.
When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.
And you were most certainly right about that now.
“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”
“What…what are you talking about?”
He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”
Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”
Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.
“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”
He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.
He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.
I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.
And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.
tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi
(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)
#top gun#top gun: maverick#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfic#top gun fanfic#top gun fic#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster bradshaw x reader#miles teller#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x y/n#top gun maverick fic#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x you
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actually, it’s captain.
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader
summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.
t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.
Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.
Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”
You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.
“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.
“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.
And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.
“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.
Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.
But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.
You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.
Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”
Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.
“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.
“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.
“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”
At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.
“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.
Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.
Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.
Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”
“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.
You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.
“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.
“Yeah?” he murmurs back.
Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.
“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.
Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.
Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.
“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.
“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun maverick fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#rooster imagine#rooster x oc#rooster fanfic#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw
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Somebody to Love
Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.
Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader
For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!
The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.
He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit.
In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played.
You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.
You were mistaken.
The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention?
The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket.
"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"
The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face.
Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read.
So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own.
It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book.
"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying.
But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar.
And simply shook your head.
"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots.
Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.
"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there."
You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?"
A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink.
Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night.
—------------------------
Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up.
The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory.
He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious.
Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost.
He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags.
Why put someone through that?
“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.”
His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her.
But he couldn't see them being true for himself.
So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone.
It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers.
And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it.
Consistent.
Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat.
Consistent.
Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him.
“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.”
—-------------------------------
Bob saw her first.
It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru.
The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing.
Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light.
She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience.
Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself.
Reuben was the first one to speak to her.
Or rather, his daughter was.
Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground.
It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her.
Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies.
He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before.
“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand.
“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.”
You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.”
Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities.
“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked.
“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink.
It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push.
Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her.
In a sea full of testosterone, it was hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age.
“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.
“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained.
Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name.
“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease.
“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter.
“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked.
You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.”
Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation.
But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection.
“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong.
“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”
Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged.
Your nickname.
It hits Jake like a fucking freight train.
“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen.
Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting.
“What is-”
“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.”
Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look.
“Where is she?”
Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house.
After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married.
So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love.
“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-”
“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.
“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!”
Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game.
Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her.
“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”
A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him.
Strange.
Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more.
“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”
Oh.
So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife.
It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids.
“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts.
“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable.
“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him.
You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen.
Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled.
“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler.
“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava.
“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.”
“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes.
“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you.
You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face.
���I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself.
“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural.
“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still.
“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence.
“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast.
“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-”
“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door.
“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley.
“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man.
“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes.
“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.
“Did he just… “
Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.”
“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked.
Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?”
He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes.
And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake.
You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave.
It was a nice change.
“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?”
You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.”
“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise.
“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,” you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts.
“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done.
You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips.
“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained.
You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils.
“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.”
Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls.
“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”
“You'll understand when it happens to you.”
Oh. Okay.
That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all.
“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-”
“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.”
Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden.
“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father.
“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place.
You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.”
“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive.
“Something helped you have that revelation?”
“Moreso someone.”
It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before.
Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze.
“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up.
“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone.
Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you.
His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you.
It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin.
Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine.
Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you.
“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning.
“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins.
The only sound you can let out is a confused huh.
“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face.
“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded.
Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.”
Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek.
His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours.
You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body.
“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks.
What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you?
Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?”
Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.”
He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath?
You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.
“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act.
“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?”
“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort.
“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.”
You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?”
“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples.
“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.”
Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers?
“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.”
Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise.
“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable.
“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet.
Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.”
You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat.
“And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”
His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun.
Almost.
His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over.
“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours.
The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.
#my writing#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster x reader#bradley rooster x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fluff
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Kisses
Can anybody think of a better way to spend an afternoon than helping one of their boyfriends help cover their other boyfriend in kisses?
Basically, @finnydraws showed me some of their incredible art of Bob covered in kisses and I had to write it for our boys
Rooster x reader x Bob
Bob Floyd had never not felt loved in his relationship. He knew he was loved when it was just the two of them. And when they introduced Bradley Bradshaw into their relationship, the love only grew.
They never did anything to make Bob feel less loved than usual. He didn't get any less kisses than what he was used to. No, the love in that relationship was free flowing and plentiful.
But still, Bob couldn’t help but feel left out sometimes. He didn't mean to, knew deep in his heart that he was just as loved as ever. But it was when he saw her with Rooster, their Sunshine laughing as Bradley's moustache tickled her.
Bob knew he could have joined them, knew he could have sat on the other side of Bradley as the three of them exchanged kissed. Deep down he knew that they would have been so happy to have him there.
But still, Bob sat back and watched.
It was heartwarming in a way, watching the two of them. Bradley held her so gently with one hand, the other tickling her sides as she laid in his lap. But they interrupted each others giggles with kisses.
Bob wanted to join in, but he couldn't help but feel like he was intruding. Nothing they'd done had ever made him feel this way; he just did.
But then Bradley looked up from his place on the sofa. He looked right at Bob and halted his fingers from tickling her side.
Why did Bradley have to look at him with such pretty eyes? That small smile of his was only just visible beneath his moustache. "What're you doing all the way over there, Floyd?"
The relationship was still somewhat new. Maybe that was why Bob felt such trepidation as he walked over. It had been easy for her to get used to kissing both boys, but Bob and Bradley couldn't help but dance around each other.
It took so long before Bradley and Bob kissed each other. A moment of bravery on both of their parts as Bob threaded his fingers through Bradley's hair. Bradley knocked his glasses slightly with his nose, but it had ended with them giggling against each others lips.
Bob sat on the other side of Bradley. As soon as he did, he was looking down at her, in Bradley's lap. "Hey, Bo," she said softly as she reached for him.
She pulled him down first, but Bradley had his turn just after. And then he turned back to the girl in his lap. "I dunno, Sunshine," he said as he placed his arm around Bob's shoulders. "I think we should cover our boy in hickies."
Bob blushed a brilliant shade of red. But he didn't stop her when she climbed into his lap and pulled his yellow shirt over his head.
She and Bradley were on him in an instant, pressing kisses to every available inch of skin. At first it was so cute, Bob a blushing, giggling mess. Under the touches of his loves, he was simply melting, putty in their hands.
But then Bob felt teeth. Hers at first, he knew them well. As she sucked a mark against his chest, Bradley gently bit his shoulder.
Small whimpers left Bob's lips. His chest, neck, shoulders and stomach. Anywhere they could get to.
"Look at you, Floyd," said Bradley as he sat back to admire their handiwork. He grabbed a hold of her, pulling her back into his lap so she too could look at Bob.
A small gasp left her lips. "Oops," she said, reaching for her phone as Bradley softly pinched her hips. She opened her camera and snapped a few pictures of him, looking so delectable sitting there, covered in their marks. "Do you think we went a bit overboard, Roos?" She asked as she leaned against Bradley.
Bradley reached out to touch one of the many marks on his chest. "You look so pretty, Floyd," he said softly.
Bob tried to look down at himself, at the marks. But there wasn't a lot he could see. "D-do I really?" The dusting of red hadn't left his cheeks, and he was sure it wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.
She pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek. He really was pretty, and they were gonna make sure he knew, make sure he felt loved.
a/n: here is the art that inspired this (holy fuck look at him he's so cute). Tumblr and twitter can be found, but be warned the twitter is NSFW
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster#rooster imagine#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#rooster x you#robert floyd#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd fluff#robert floyd x you#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd x you#top gun#top gun maverick#tgm#top gun fanfiction#bob x reader x rooster#bradley bradshaw x reader x bob floyd
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Personal Space
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader
Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.
You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.
But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.
He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.
Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.
“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.
“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.
“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”
For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.
“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.
He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.
“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.
“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.
The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.
A Mitchell finally Top Gun.
“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.
“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”
“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.
“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.
It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.
You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”
Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.
How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.
“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.
You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.
“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.
“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”
“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”
One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.
“Okay get off of me now.”
#masterlist#xreader#smut#fluff#warner sister#angst#requests#x you#imagine#top gun#top gun maverick x reader#top gun x reader#topgunmaverick#top gun fandom#top gun imagine#top gun 1986#topgun#top gun maverick#rooster#Bradley#Bradshaw#Bradley Bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#Bradley Bradshaw#roosterxreader#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster x you#rooster top gun
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If It Makes You Happy - Part 1
➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.
Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy
Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”
His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.
Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.
“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck.
“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.
“Yes,”
One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?”
“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”
Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”
If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is.
He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.
So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.”
After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief.
Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier.
The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.”
As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure.
You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.
He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours.
You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.
“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.
“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder.
“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”
That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?”
Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”
You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”
He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?”
You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”
He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”
-
You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.
After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.
“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious.
“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long.
Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months.
And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him.
It was simple, easy, casual.
You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.
Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him.
“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink.
“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,”
That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops.
You were beautiful, to put it simply.
He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark.
It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you.
The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things.
Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well.
As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits.
He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.
He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights.
All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it.
There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you.
You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be.
He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house.
And you had started to, kind of.
Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.
There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?
Right?
As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”
You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar.
“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”
“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”
Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek.
“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.”
Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake.
“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”
You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”
Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”
At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.”
His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer.
“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”
That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”
He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace.
Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”
It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation.
-
The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,”
You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone.
As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him.
The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.
“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”
This was it.
Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”
He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,”
Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”
From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,”
There it was.
You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.
His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”
You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.”
His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”
You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?”
Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”
It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.
You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs.
“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”
You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you.
“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”
You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.
Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw.
You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried.
He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half.
Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart.
As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact.
He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.
It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”
You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”
“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock.
“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”
“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”
“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”
“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-”
Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”
And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days.
-
A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you.
His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home.
His.
Bradley had to laugh.
You weren’t his.
He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.
God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now.
Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.
Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock.
Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?
A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer.
He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.
If you listened to it at all.
“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”
He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to.
“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side.
-
It went on like that for weeks.
Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you.
He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier.
He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his.
Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you.
You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot.
He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend.
Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago.
While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.
He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up.
Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more.
When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck.
Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead.
He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now.
Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.
Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.
You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.
Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too.
He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you.
After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.
He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.
You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.
He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want.
To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck.
Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.
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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.
Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst
Length: 2200 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.
"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."
He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.
"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."
"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."
He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night.
"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."
But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.
"Ness. I want to stay in."
She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."
"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."
She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."
His skin started to crawl as she went off about his career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"
Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."
Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."
When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"
"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."
Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"
Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."
"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone.
He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case.
So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.
------------------------
The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.
He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read.
When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead.
His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail.
"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"
He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days.
He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back.
This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.
He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.
Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.
"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.
He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.
Dear United States Naval Aviator,
First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!
Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)
Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.
Sincerely,
The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher
Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself.
He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.
First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.
"Damn."
The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.
"Fucking gorgeous."
----------------------
And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 2
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#yours truly bradley bradshaw
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