#rooster singing

[princessmisery666]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Mentions/Small Parts: Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Harvard. 

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: I saw this post on Instagram, and it immediately made me think of Rooster. Songs: Is This Love by White Snake, Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli.

A/N: the wonderful and brilliant @writercole helped with ideas, summary, and title and helped make the muses comply. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

It’s been a week. It’s not even worth listing all the things that went wrong. The icing on the cake (presumably made with salt and not sugar - cause it's that kind of week) was your date canceled on you as you took a seat at a booth in the diner.

You sigh as the waitress comes to take your order, accepting that you’ve been stood up and decide you may as well eat since you’re already there.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, side salad, no tomato, extra dressing, please.” 

The elderly waitress smiles. It’s comforting and sweet. Her name tag says Pattie, and you imagine her grandkids get overly excited whenever Granny Pat visits. “You want the fries with that?”

You ponder for half a second before declining, “No thanks.”

“You sure, hun? They’re included in the price.”

You had dirty Cajun fries from the food cart outside the office at lunch. You know the diner’s fries won’t taste as good, besides you want to leave room for dessert, so you politely decline again. 

“I’ll take them, Pattie!”

You twist in the booth to look over your shoulder and find the source. A handsome guy sitting at the bar, wearing a light yellow floral print shirt, smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You’d clocked him when you’d entered. You’d caught his eye too, and he’d given you a broad smile. His mustache was a flashback to a decade or two ago, but he wore it well. He carried it with a sense of pride and confidence. It looked good on him. Anyone else, you’d have thought it was creepy.

“Hush now, boy,” Pattie scolds, but she’s smiling when she turns back to face you.

You chuckle, nodding toward him, “He’ll take the fries.”

Pattie takes your menu and disappears to the kitchen. You look at Mr. Mustache, who tips his beer bottle to you before bringing it to his lips.

You grab your phone and message the “No Scrubs” group. 

You: Stood up again. Where you guys at?

Cole: At that navy bar I was telling you about. Come meet us.

You: I’ve just ordered dinner. Will see how I feel after.

You scroll social media while you wait. Pattie comes by a few times, brings cutlery and sauces, and refreshes your drink. 

You hear the bell ring to signal an order’s ready, and your mouth waters when you see Pattie heading toward you. The burger looks delicious. The brioche bun glistens under the lights as the cheese melts over the edge onto the plate. It's so tall there’s a wooden skewer through the top to keep it in place, and the fries are fat and look perfectly crispy.  

Pattie sets the plate down, “Enjoy, sweetheart,” and you swallow before drool slips out.

Just as you pull the skewer out of the burger, you hear, “Those are mine, remember.”

You laugh, twisting to look at him again. He’s got a cheerful smirk, but his brow is raised as if challenging you. “Why don’t you join me?” you offer. 

He grabs his beer and twists off his stool. The smile remains while he saunters over, and you can’t take your eyes off him, admiring the sway of his hips. He’s confident in an almost bashful way. The open floral shirt shows a white shirt beneath it, and the contrast against his tanned skin looks as edible as your burger. 

“Tell me,” he says, grabbing a fry and biting off the end. “What kind of psychopath doesn’t have fries with their burger?”

You shrug, ���The same kind that offers to take a stranger's fries.”

“Touché,” he chuckles. 

You laugh, explaining, “I had fries at lunch and want dessert.”

 He nods as if now understanding your logic. “Ah, she’s got a sweet tooth.” 

“I’ve heard that the chocolate malt here is the best in the state. I can’t pass that up,” you grin.

“Well, that is true,” he shrugs, popping another fry into his mouth. “Make or break question here, whipped cream on top of the shake?”

“I fear this will affect our budding friendship,” you tease, “but ab-so-lutely whipped cream on top of the shake. Among other places,” you wink. 

His boldness flounders for half a second, recognizing he’s met his match, but he recovers quickly. Wetting his lips and giving a cheeky smile. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

“I don’t see a ring, and you’re here alone. Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m definitely flirting with you.”

His smile widens and remains while the conversation flows and the two of you eat. Flirtations and laughter pass back and forth effortlessly.

Your phone chimes with another message, and you see the ‘No Scrubs’ group chat has two unread messages. You don’t want to be rude and pick it up to reply, but you know if you don’t, they’ll likely call to make sure you’re okay. 

“Somewhere else you need to be?” he asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice that he attempts to hide behind a sip of beer.

“No, just some friends trying to get me to go meet them at some Navy bar.” You roll your eyes and type a quick ‘maybe’ before locking your phone, setting it face down on the table.

“Navy bar? The Hard Deck?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

“I think that’s what Cole said. Do you know it?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed after. I could give you a ride. If you need one, that is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Bradley, but my friends call me Rooster.”

“Rooster?” you laugh. “Please tell me there’s a good story there.”

“There might be. I guess that depends on if you want to hear it.”

“How about you tell me on the way to the bar?”

The open window lifts your hair slightly, and every time Rooster gets a hit of your perfume, he inhales deeply, savoring it. 

He sticks to the speed limit, if not a little below it. He’s not quite ready to say goodbye to you. He’s never had such an instant, effortless connection with someone, and he wants to make it last as long as possible.

You’d laughed at the story about his name. You’d have never guessed that it was a nickname his uncle gave him when he was a kid. The radio is playing at a low volume, but as soon as the opening bars of Is This Love by White Snake start, you lean over and crank the volume as loud as it will go, singing along as if he isn’t there.

“Is this love that I'm feeling?” you sing, holding a pretend microphone. “Is this the love that I've been searching for? Is this love, or am I dreaming? This must be love. 'Cause, it's really got a hold on me. A hold on me.” 

You can’t hold a tune, and your voice cracks a few times, but still, you belt it out with vigor, and Rooster thinks he may be falling in love. Did Pattie put something in those fries? 

“Sorry,” you say, settling back into your seat, “that’s one of my favorites.” 

It’s one of my favorites now too. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he laughs, “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Are you not a car karaoke kinda guy?” you ask. “You seem like you like to sing along.” 

“I’ve been known to hold a few car concerts,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to interrupt your flow.” 

“Can you sing as good as me?”

He looks at you and sees the jesting expression. You know you can’t sing, and you don’t care one little bit.

“I’d love to serenade you,” he says, “but unfortunately, we’re here.”

“Some other time?” you ask, and he swears you sound hopeful.

Rooster opens the Hard Deck door, and as soon as he hears the hustle and bustle from inside, he wishes he’d suggested you stay at the diner. Holding the door open, he gestures for you to enter first, and you smile a thanks as you pass by.

You stop a few feet inside, scanning the room as he stands beside you. This is the one time he hopes Hangman is being himself and has, by some miracle, coaxed your friends over to the group so Rooster has an excuse to keep talking to you. 

“Those are my friends over there,” you say, dashing all his hopes as you point to the pool tables on the opposite side of the room. 

“I’m over there,” Rooster says, pointing to where the Dagger squad is assembled. 

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the fries.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

“You too.” 

There’s a pause, neither of you knowing what to do. You rise to the tips of your toes, and he dips to let you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks quickly flush, hearing the jeers, shouts, and wolf whistles, but you drop back down with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “They’re a bunch of idiots.”

He scolds himself for being an idiot as you walk away. He should invite you over or ask for your number, but he’s suddenly tongue-tied. He stares at you, frozen to the spot, long enough to see your friends turn to look at him as you settle into your seat.

Throughout the night, flirtatious glances are passed back and forth, and smiles exchanged when they linger. Of course, it’s Hangman who notices the consequence of Rooster’s error. 

“Looks like you lose again, Rooster,” the blond pilot remarks, a way too smug grin showing off his perfectly white teeth. “Too snug on that perch, and Harvard is gonna take your lady right out from under your beak.”

Rooster doesn’t care if it proves Hangman’s point. He looks directly at you. Harvard is whispering in your ear. You're smiling, but Rooster thinks it's more of a polite, courteous smile than genuine interest. 

But it’s the kick he needs to take action. He looks to Phoenix, Bob, and Mickey, almost pleading, “I need your help.” 

Phoenix nods once, Bob smiles, and Mickey asks, “What?”

“He wants to do the Goose move,” Phoenix explains without Bradley needing to tell her any more. 

“What’s the Goose move?”

“It’s the move his Dad did to get his Mom,” Bob says. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Mickey shrugs. 

“Technically, we've been doing it for years,” Rooster says, “it’s just that this time, it involves my future wife.”

“So, no pressure,” Bob gulps. 

“Relax. I’ve got a plan,” Phoenix winks, gesturing for the three guys to come closer.

Harvard doesn’t seem all that smart, and you wonder if it's an ironic nickname or callsign, as Rooster had explained. Harvard certainly doesn’t understand body language. You’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to put some distance between you three times. The third time he slides his arm around your shoulders. 

Before you can shrug, his arm slips off, and suddenly, a pretty brunette woman is in his place. “Hi,” she says brightly, her back to a flustered-looking Harvard. “I’m Phoenix, and this is Fanboy. We’re friends with Rooster.” 

Butterflies dance in your stomach. Before she can say anymore or you have a chance to wonder why he’s sent his friends to rescue you, the jukebox cuts off, and a collective groan echoes around the room. 

“That was supposed to happen,” Phoenix smiles. Fanboy is speaking quietly to Harvard, and he doesn’t seem happy about whatever is being said, but you're grateful for the interruption. 

There’s a soft twinkling from a piano somewhere in the room, and after a few more notes, you find the source. Phoenix continues, “That’s Bob, and you’ve met Rooster.” 

Your eyes drift up from the piano player and land on Bradley, fingers tapping the wooden top, while Bob continues to find the right melody.

Rooster’s eyes are locked on you, a shy smirk lifting the corner of his mustache. 

“Thanks for the save,” you say to Phoenix but keep your eyes on Rooster. 

“Well, it wasn’t the actual intention, but Harvard can be a bit…” she trails off.

“Thick?” 

“That’s a good word for him,” she laughs.

The bright random notes turn into a clear, rich melody that flows through the room moments before the smooth baritone of Rooster’s voice fills the air. “You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Damn, he can sing! 

Taking the lyrics literally, he doesn’t avert his eyes while he serenades you. You feel Phoenix’s hand at your elbow, but you can’t look away from the gorgeous man belting out a song just for you. Only when he draws closer do you realize she’s guiding you to him. 

The bar is packed, and the crowd gathers around the piano, but somehow Rooster is always in your line of sight, and then Fanboy is in front of you, splitting the crowd to let you through. 

It feels surreal but magical when somehow there’s a clear path straight to Rooster. It looks like an aisle leading to an altar, and the man that awaits you has been sent from the heavens because he’s gorgeous, kind, funny, and clearly has a talent for commanding a room. You wonder what else you could uncover, given some time.

“At long last, love has arrived,” Rooster sings as you reach his side. Phoenix slips away as you reach for Bradley’s outstretched hand. 

Definitely an altar, and you’ll happily worship here for eternity. Interlocking your fingers with his, he pulls you against him. “Now that I found you, stay,” it’s more than a song, it's a question, and you nod. 

Slowly, he inches closer, and the crowd takes over, singing the chorus, when his lips connect with yours and the world melts away. 

Tag List Info

Take To The Skies: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @atarmychick007

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

[princessmisery666-library]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // A03

[yeagrave]

recharge

[loveinwisteria]

Mamma Mia! Top Gun AU

Featuring :

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell as Donna

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin as Sophie

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky as Sam

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw as The Boyfriend ™

Donna and the Dynamos being ofc Maverick, Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw as Rosie, and Carole as Tanya.

Ron 'Slider' Kerner as Bill (and yes he Will be pursued by Both Nick and Carole because I said so)

And Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson as Harry (he finds his One True Love at the wedding aka Warlock)

[sailor-aviator]

Singing in the Sanctuary: Prologue

Singing in the Sanctuary: Prologue

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Pressure from parents, use of y/n, other than that I don't think there are any, really.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I am equally excited to be writing this one as I am my Hangman series. I think y'all will like this one too. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. You can find this and my other works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. 18+ only!!!

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

Women weren’t meant to have careers. Woman were meant to cook, clean, have babies, and make sure their husbands were taken care of. Then you became an old woman and one day you’d be buried next to said husband. At least, that’s what your parents had always told you. When they found out that you were pursuing a career as a teacher, they tried everything in their power to convince you otherwise.

“It’s just not proper for a young lady of your background to have a career, y/n” said your mother.

“I’ve had suitors asking for you hand for years now. Why don’t you get married and then think about continuing your education?” your father had coaxed. You couldn’t be swayed, however.

It had been your dream from a young age to become a teacher. You had always admired the ones you had growing up, and learning had always come easy to you. You wanted others to experience the joys of learning like you had, and that’s how you found yourself ignoring your parents’ wishes.

It had certainly been hard work, but it was work you were proud of. When you graduated, your parents had been more relieved than proud.

“Surely you’ll find a husband now, darling,” your father had said hopefully. Your mother nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, sweetheart! My friends have the most dashing sons who would just love-”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Mama, Papa, please-”

“We just want what’s best for you,” your father said hurriedly. You grimaced, but in the end you had allowed your mother to set up several luncheons with your would-be suitors. They hadn’t been horrible. No, in another life, perhaps you would have even been excited at the idea of marrying one of them. Settling down in a spacious, white house with blue shutters. A white picket fence encompassing the yard, and little ones running around joyfully while your husband and you looked on. And it’s not like that wasn’t your dream. No, in fact, you wanted all of that. But your dream also included teaching.

It was hard finding a job in your hometown in Missouri. And that’s why you had jumped at the chance to move west. You hadn’t told your parents about the opportunity, and for good reason. They would have stopped at nothing to keep you from going. You had stumbled upon this chance of fate when you had stopped by the general store to by ingredients for supper that evening.

“Maverick’s not a city, mind you,” said the old man as he dropped the box of fresh produce onto the counter by the clerk. “But it’s got character, and it’s growin’ every day! The mayor is even talkin’ bout buildin’ a school here soon. Told me to spread the word that we’re lookin’ for a new teacher.”

“Excuse me,” you had interrupted. Both men turned to look at you. “Could you tell me more about this job?”

“Well, it’s a real good opportunity, now, miss,” grinned the old man. “The town ain’t that old, and like I said, it’s gettin’ bigger every day. The townsfolk is all friendly and the mayor is offerin’ up a fair wage.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “And where is this town? Is it far?”

“It’s located out in the territory they’re callin’ New Mexico. It’s ‘bout a week’s ride from here to there.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling giddy at the thought of trekking west.

“How long will you be in town, sir?” you ask. The man scratches his chin thoughtfully before leveling you with a look.

“I’ll tell you what,” he began, “I’ll stick around for another day. If you decide you wanna catch a ride with me back to Maverick, you jus’ meet me by the gate leadin’ outta town ‘round noon. How’s that?”

You grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

You had packed your bags quickly, waiting until both of your parents had left the house the following day. You wrote a note explaining why you were leaving and where you were going, and then gave one last look at the house you’d called home your entire life. Taking a steadying breath, you made your way down to the gate the man had mentioned.

“Good timin’!” he hollered upon seeing you. “Was jus’ about to head on out.”

“Thank you for waiting!” you called breathlessly, setting your bags on the back of the cart and rounding to the front. The man offered you a hand as you clambered up onto the seat, and once he had made himself comfortable, the two of you were on your way.

The days passed quickly as you and the man, Hondo you would come to find out is his name, made your way to your new beginning. The heat became more intense the further south you traveled, and luscious green gave way to arid desert. On your second day of being in the desert, you saw the outlines of a town in the distance.

“There she is!” grinned Hondo. “Ol’ Maverick herself!”

“How exciting!” you smiled. About a half hour later, the two of you were riding along the streets of said town. People bustled up and down the streets and went about their business as usual. Joel stopped the cart just outside of a large, wooden building.

“This here is town hall,” he said. “I’ll getcha in to see Maverick, and he’ll getcha situated.”

Your brows furrowed. “Maverick?”

“Pete Mitchell is his name, but most folks ‘round here just call him Maverick or Mav. He founded the town, and it’s named after him.”

“I see,” you breathed, taking Hondo’s hand as he helped you down onto the ground. He walked with you up the steps and through the door of town hall.

“Hondo!” cried a man as you both entered. The man was handsome with dark hair that greyed around his temples. His skin was golden from what you could only assume was hours spent in the desert sun, and his blue eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of your companion.

“Maverick,” smiled Hondo. The man, Maverick, stopped before you two and his eyes glanced over you.

“And who is this here with you?”

“Mav,” started Hondo, stepping back to gesture at you, “allow me to introduce Miss y/n. She’s here to be our town’s new teacher.”

“Excellent!” grinned Maverick, taking your hand and giving it a firm shake. “You’re really helping us out here. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you smiled. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

“Nonsense! Now, I’m assuming you don’t have a place to stay at the moment?”

“No,” you blushed, looking down sheepishly. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Maverick beamed. “Well, until we can get the school and a house for you built, you’ll just have to stay with me and my wife, Penny.”

“Oh, Mr. Mitchell, I couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Maverick raises a hand to stop you.

“Please, call me Maverick or Mav. And I insist. It’s the least we can offer considering you came all this way.”

You smiled gratefully. “I appreciate that, Maverick. In the meantime, where am I to teach the children?”

“For now, why don’t you teach our little rascals in the sanctuary of the church? I’m sure the Reverend won’t mind.”

“That sounds lovely,” you gushed. You couldn’t wait for the start of your new life.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oop oc concept posting! this bad bitch is for an original story of mine - the main characters are all from different "genres", and i needed One More to round out the group and well. puppet-y guy fit the bill! i can't decide on a name!

she's from a children's show that had a western themed rock group that would provide lessons through the power of Music! she was the band guitarist until she fuckin. fell into the labyrinth & got corrupted by her found family of idiot assholes

[heartsofminds]

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - sneak peek

"Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone." or Jake calls the landline at 11 PM on a Thursday because his goddaughter is wasted and Bradley is less than thrilled.

A/N: in light of me finishing my second to last semester of undergrad and my undying love for Bradley's precocious daughter from the halloween fic, i thought i would post a little preview of what i'm working on for them! love these characters more than life and def so excited for y'all to get to know them better soon.

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who would need to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday night? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the questions sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not the one on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up agaisnt the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and starts to walk to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . . fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s definitely drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the cord of the phone and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school mid-day and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from whenever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him starts to get that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made the peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

[fidjiefidjie]

🤗 Petite pause entre amis 🥰

SokYaa, OG et Pao 🐒 🐶 🐓

Source: Lovebee dola

👋 Bel après-midi

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Four years, no calls

Now you’re lookin’ pretty in a hotel bar

[redfurrycat]

Top Gun: Peacock 🤠+🐓= 🦚 [Part 4]

Due to an inexplicable malfunction of the new F-302 fighter-interceptor, Mitchell Nicholas Seresin-Bradshaw, callsign Peacock, travels back to a time when the suicide mission has already occurred, but his parents aren’t together yet.

[There’s some heavy mutual pining going on though.]

🕰️⬅️⬅️🚀⬅️⬅️🦚

Most Daggers –including Rooster and Hangman– are away on a joint exercise with the US Air Force, except for Phoenix and Coyote who remain on base to teach new recruits. That’s why they’re the first ones to be called by the COMPACFLT himself.

He informs them that earlier this day an unknown aircraft has crash-landed on the aircraft carrier under Admiral Rick Hollywood Neven’s command.

The extraordinary likeness to Lt. Jake Hangman Seresin and the fact that the plane is engraved under the name of Lt. Mitchell Seresin-Bradshaw “Peacock” are enough for Admiral Neven to make a direct call to The Iceman and let him deal with that bullshit. [With the promise to tell him everything afterwards, ‘cause they’re all a bunch of gossipers.]

Mitchell then greets the younger version of his g.o.b.s.m.a.c.k.e.d godparents with an enthusiastic ‘Howdy Auntie Nat! Howdy Uncle Jav!’ and proceeds to kiss his auntie’s cheek and to do the very choreographically-complex handshake with his uncle – who does it automatically as it’s the same he does with Jake every day.

 *

[A few days later. Phoenix, Coyote, and Peacock are at the Hard Deck.]

Mitchell has already charmed Penny with a kiss on the back of her hand and is now happily dancing with the other patrons.

Meanwhile Natasha and Javy are supposed to be playing pool, but they can’t help but watch their godson…

Coyote: Can you believe our best friends are responsible for the most adorable and sweetest godson ever? The best parts of Jake with the best Bradshaw attributes. Dude’s a killer.

Phoenix: I’m frankly relieved Mitchell has not inherited our best friends’ dumbassery. After all, minus one dumbass asshole times minus one asshole dumbass equals one positive smart and nice guy. Maths is beautiful that way…

Coyote, snorting and high fiving her: Nice one, Nat. It also means they get their shit together sometimes in the future. I hope it’s soon. ‘Cause I can’t take anymore of their ‘Bradshaw, as I live and breathe’ & ‘Hangman you look *insert suggestive pause* good’ bullshit routine.

Phoenix, groaning:  Right?! I run out of place to mark a cross each time Bradley gives him a once-over and Jake bites his lips with an hungry look. I’m getting so distracted I didn’t see the COMPACFLT entering the class the other day and almost didn’t stand to attention. How embarrassing!

Peacock calls his godparents and asks them to come over and sing the Great Balls of Fire song with him.

Coyote: Think we can interrogate our godson about this 'Finn' guy? Seems to be a recurrent character in his current/future life...

Phoenix: First one to make him spill the beans pays the other's tab?

Coyote: Deal.

*

[Blame the Everybody wants some! movie that I haven’t seen yet, but Mitchell’s Enemy-turned-Crush is based on Tyler Hoechlin’s Glen’s looks – THEIR FREAKING MUSTACHES DRIVE ME CRAZY!]

Here is Finnegan Noah Stilinski-Hale to become a famous baseball player in the future! I still have to think about how they met (or more likely will meet) …

[part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3] - [part 4] - [part 5] - [part 6] - [part 7]

[callsign-daydream]

Rooster, singing: We don’t need no education! Bob: Yes you do, you’ve just used a double negative.

[princessmisery666]

Found That Lovin’ Feelin’ - Part 5.1 Under The Radar Mini Series

Summary: Bradley checks on the status of his surprise, and Jake tries to make himself believe it’s real.

Warnings: fluff, Rooster and Hangman being idiots (but funny idiots not like their heads are stuck up their asses - again🤣), 

W/C: 655

Characters: Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress).

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

A/N: Simply because I wanted an excuse to have the mental image of a wet Hangman😜😂

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // @writercole

Graphics: title card made by me, @writercole dividers.

Master Lists: Part 1-5 - Under The Radar // Under The Radar - Drabbles & One-shots

Found That Lovin' Feelin'

Jake can’t stop staring at you. You float around the kitchen, making you both club sandwiches. Your lips are still slightly swollen from his kiss, and the redness off the scratch of his beard is still visible. But that's not why he stares. He’s making sure he’s not dreaming.

He remembers a conversation with you. You were laying on his chest, the coating of sweat holding your bodies together after a fervent fucking session. He was teasing you about how fast you fall asleep after sex, and somehow it led to you drowsily telling him the random fact that you’re unable to read in dreams. So as a test, he keeps reading the time on the oven’s digital display. Though he can read it, he’s still not sure he trusts it because how did he get so lucky? How is it that you are willing to give him a shot? Even he knows it’s a chance he doesn’t deserve, but he knows - and maybe at the moment, he’s the only one who does know - that it’s a chance he will not squander.

“Why are you staring, Seresin?” you ask, cutting the overloaded sandwich in half.

“Just counting my lucky stars, sweetheart,” he says, kissing your cheek while you concentrate on not chopping off your fingers with the large knife.

“Well, count them while you grab us some sodas out of the fridge, pretty boy,” you demand, grabbing the plates and heading outside.

You make it to the sun loungers just as Jake steps out of the house, and your phone rings. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Rooster’s voice travels when you answer while holding the phone up in front of you. “Need help hiding the body?” 

Your laughter is a thing of beauty, and Jake kind of hates that Rooster seems to be the only one that can make you laugh so freely. “He’s alive,” you say, and Jake sees you press the button to flip the camera, so Rooster has proof of life. “For now.”

Rooster chuckles, “You worked it out then?”

“There are still some discussions to be had,” you say, switching the camera back. “But we’re on the right track, I guess.” 

“Ah damn it,” Rooster whines, “now we don’t get to serenade you.”

“Serenade me?” 

“Hangman,” Rooster calls, and Jake quickly rushes to stand behind you, arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder so Bradley can see him too. “Shall we blow her away, or do we save it for the next time you fuck up?”

“Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that, Bradshaw. Actually, on second thought....”

“Now, now, boys,” you tut, “play nice.” Rooster rolls his eyes, and Jake kisses your cheek quickly. “Now show me what you’re talking about.” 

Jake steps away, spins you to face him, and then as if rehearsed, they both begin in low baritone voices. “You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips. And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips.” Hangman is overly dramatic with the whole show, and Rooster is taking it way too seriously. “You're trying hard not to show it. But baby, baby, I know it. You lost that lovin' feelin'. Whoa, that lovin' feelin'. You lost that lovin' feelin'. Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh.”

Jake slides across the floor closer to you and kisses your cheek, “you're such dorks,” you say and give Jake one hard shove pushing him to the pool.

You change the camera again, and as he surfaces, Rooster laughs hysterically. 

Jake’s smiling like a goofball when he surfaces. He swims to the edge, takes off his shirt, and throws it at you, but you dodge it with ease. “You either join me,” he offers, “or you can run?” 

“Bye, Rooster,” you say, ending the call and dropping your phone onto the sun lounger. You back up a couple of steps and then run full speed doing a cannonball into the pool.

Part 5.2 - All's Fair in Love, War & the Shower

[incorrecttopgunquotes]

Coyote: Why is Hangman sopping wet?

Phoenix: He slipped in a puddle

Coyote: Bro?? Must've been a massive puddle. Even his hair is wet.

Phoenix: ...and then Rooster sprayed him with the hose

[takadasaiko]

Get yourself a man that looks at you like Rooster looks at Phoenix when he sings ♪♪Great Balls of Fire♪♪ 😁

[sailor-aviator]

Singing in the Sanctuary: Chapter Three

Singing in the Sanctuary: Chapter Three

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw of the western territories has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Mentions of dead parents, Bradley Bradshaw. Think that's it?

Word Count: 2.37k

A/N: Here's Chapter Three at long last! I know this one is a little shorter than what we're used to, but I don't want force the narrative, and this seemed like a good place to stop. We should see longer chapters on this one soon! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be posting these fics as well.

Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

“You know, I had the strangest conversation with Bradley yesterday afternoon,” Maverick said, stabbing at his eggs. Penny lifted an eyebrow at him in intrigue.

“Do tell.”

“He came by askin’ me about what my plans were for a schoolhouse. Can you believe that? Since when does he care about the education of the kids?”

Penny hummed, glancing at you slyly from the corner of her eye before taking a bit of her toast. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, and I told him that we were looking more into it now that we have Birdie here to teach’em, but he was pretty insistent that I make it a priority.”

“You don’t say?” Penny smiled, snorting a laugh that she quickly tried to pass off as a cough. Maverick looked at her with concern.

“You feelin’ okay, sweetheart?”

Penny waved him off, finishing her mouthful of eggs. “I’m just fine, honey. Tell me more about what Bradley said.”

“Well, it’s just like I said,” he continued. “I know he and the other boys help people out around town, but to volunteer the other boys the way he did? That’s unusual for him.”

“He volunteered the other Daggers?” you chirped, surprise clear on your face as you looked up at him. He nodded, laughing with a shake of his head.

“I know, I could hardly believe it myself!”

Penny shot you a coy smile. “I wonder what could have caused him to go and do something like that.”

You flushed at her words, ducking your head down to stare at your plate. Maverick let out another chuckle.

“I don’t know, Penny, but you should have heard Mickey hollerin’ up and down Main Street at him. Wouldn’t be surprised if you could’ve heard him all the way in Independence! with how loud he was yellin'.”

You and Penny laughed at that, and Maverick’s grin turned into a warm smile.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I hope it sticks. I can’t tell you the last time I saw that boy so determined to work on a good cause.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Penny hummed, casting you another conspiratorial glance. “I think whatever it is that’s lit a fire under his butt is gonna be good for him. Might even stick around for a while.”

“From your mouth to the good Lord’s ears, darlin’,” Maverick chuckled, placing his napkin on his place as he stood. “It’s good to see him so passionate about something again. Haven’t seen him like this since before…”

He trailed off, and Penny leaned over to lay a sympathetic hand over his. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t need to say it.”

Maverick sniffed, running a finger under his eye before straightening. “Anyway, the only problem we have now is comin’ up with the money for supplies.”

“How do you mean?” you asked him, a furrow in your brow.

Maverick grimaced. “Town is runnin’ low on building materials. We’ve got enough to start the foundation for the schoolhouse, but we’ll have to scrounge up some money for everything else.”

“I see,” you frowned. Maverick gave you a reassuring look.

“It’ll be alright, Birdie. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

You nodded, and with one last smile to his wife, Maverick was out the door. You helped Penny clear the table. The older woman began to wash the dishes as you took them from her to dry.

“So,” she drawled, looking over at you with a smile. “That was real nice of Bradley to volunteer to help out with the schoolhouse.”

“Wasn’t it just?” you gushed, a smile breaking out over your face. “I’m not surprised, though. The children seem to love him, and it looked like he felt the same way.”

“You still mad at him?” she asked you. You hummed before giving her a shrug.

“I wasn’t really mad at him to begin with, Penny,” you sighed, placing a plate in the cupboard. “I don’t know him well enough to be mad at him for his past. It’s not like he owes me an explanation or anything.”

“No,” Penny said carefully, “but despite his past as a philanderer, he’s a good man at heart, Birdie. He was a wild, young thing back in the day, but he’s older now.”

“Besides,” she smirked, looking directly at you now, “Doesn’t take a genius to see the way he looks at you.”

You flushed at her words. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” she chuckled, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Just like you don’t know why he would volunteer him and his friends to build the schoolhouse.”

You stayed quiet for a moment.

“I want to thank him in some way,” you murmured, not meeting her gaze.

“I’m sure you’ll think of somethin’,” she mused. “Now, come on. Don’t want you to be late for class.”

A couple of hours later, you were perched on the steps of the altar, looking around at your class.

“What about a baseball game?” Ricky grinned. Lottie wrinkled her nose at him.

“No way!” she cried. “It needs to be something we can all do!”

“What about a bake sale?”

You had told the children the good news about finding volunteers to build the schoolhouse, and the sanctuary had exploded in a chorus of excitement.

“Hold on, hold on,” you had smiled, trying to calm the children down. “There’s just one more thing we have to figure out.”

“What’s that, miss?” Michael called out from his spot in the third row. You sighed with a slight frown.

“After talking with Mr. Maverick today, I’ve found out that we unfortunately don’t have all the funds we need to build it,” you said. The children exclaimed in disappointment, but little Billy looked at you with big, green eyes.

“Maybe we can help, teacher!” he grinned.

You smiled back at him as the other children voiced their support for the little boy.

“That’s a fine idea, Billy,” you said. “And it sounds like all of you agree.”

“We do!” smiled Michael.

“But how can we even help?” frowned Lydia, a plucky red-head from the second row. “What could we possibly do?”

Samantha raised her hand. “We could hold a fundraiser?”

The children murmured in agreement, and you nodded your head slowly.

“That could work,” you hummed. “What is it you all would like to do?”

Now you sat there as the children volleyed ideas back and forth at each other. None of them had been bad ideas, but it was hard for a group of thirty children to come to an agreement on what to do. You worried that they would grow too frustrated to settle on an idea, and then you would have to pick. You wanted the children to enjoy their time helping with preparations, so you knew that it would have to be their decision on what to do.

“My mother and father went and saw a play when they were visiting my grandmother in Kansas City,” Theresa said thoughtfully. “We could do that?”

The room was left in a hushed silence as the children mulled over her words.

“I like it,” Samantha nodded, and the other children were quick to agree.

“We should do Snow White!”

“No, Cinderella!”

“I wanna do Sleeping Beauty!”

You chuckled at their enthusiasm, moving to stand.

“Alright, class,” you smiled warmly, “we’ll have plenty of time to decide what our play is going to be. Now, let’s get back to your math lesson.”

You dismissed your class not too long after that, and now you were walking idly down the main street of Maverick. People greeted you as you past, and you returned the gestures. Your thoughts kept turning back to the play, however. It had been a miracle that they agreed on doing a play in the first place. Maybe you could convince the townsfolk to buy multiple tickets for different plays?

You stopped walking, sighing as you stared up at the sky. A chill was starting to stir in the air as Autumn began fast approaching. You wondered how your parents were faring back home in Missouri. Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard the quiet melody of a piano drift through the street. You realized it was coming from the saloon, and you moved quickly until you were standing in the entryway.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a golden hue across the rooms as the sunbeams stretched across the wooden floors. The gentle lilt of the keys danced in your ears. You didn’t recognize the song, but you watched as the familiar brunette strummed his fingers along the ivory.

Bradley hadn’t seen you walk in, to lost in the way the music washed over him. You thought he looked sad as he played, which was strange because you were certain the song was supposed to sound happy even though he was playing slowly. You didn’t realize you were moving until you sat down gingerly next to him. He jumped, fingers flying off the keys as he turned to look at you. The two of you stared at each other.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whispered, pleading for him to continue. Bradley swallowed before turning back to the piano. His fingers pressed down lightly on the keys as he began to play the same tune as before.

“You’re very good,” you smiled as he continued to play. He huffed out a light laugh as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Birdie,” he joked, causing your face to flush.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you rushed out, but he shook his head.

“I’m only teasin’ you, little bird. I know I don’t look like the type that knows how to play.”

“Well, I am a little shocked,” you admitted. He gave you a playful glare, and you giggled up at him.

You shifted closer to him on the bench. “How did you learn to play?”

“My dad taught me,” he hummed sadly.

You watched him for another minute before asking quietly, “did something happen?”

His fingers stilled over the keys for half a second before continuing. “He and my mom died when I was eight. It was scarlet fever, made its way through town pretty quick. Took Hangman’s folks too and Bob’s daddy.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you began, but he cut you off with a stern look.

“Don’t,” he snapped, fingers banging on the keys with a crash. His eyes softened when he saw your confused look. “Please, don’t. I get enough pity from the folks here in town. I don’t think I could handle it if you looked at me like that too.”

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding in understanding. Bradley let out a shaky breath, refusing to meet your gaze for a moment.

“My dad and Mav were best friends,” he said finally. You remained quiet, letting him speak at his own pace. He continued. “They did almost everything together. They drank, they sang, they even broke the law together.”

He looked at you then, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He always told me that my mama was the reason he gave up his wild life. Said he couldn’t bare the thought of her cryin’ if he never came home.”

You reached up to cup his cheek in your hand, and he immediately turned his face into your palm, nuzzling it.

“He sounds like he was a good man,” you offered, giving him a gentle smile. Bradley frowned at your words.

“No,” he said. “He was the best.”

The two of you didn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at each other. Finally, Bradley pulled away from you with a sniff before turning back to the piano. He began to play a different melody now, something quicker and more upbeat.

“So,” he chirped, offering you a bright smile, “what brings you into the saloon today?”

“Oh, I was actually looking for Penny,” you told him, glancing around the room but not seeing the older brunette.

“Think she’s still showin’ the new girl around,” Bradley muttered, earning a look from you.

“New girl?” you asked.

He hummed with a nod.

“Came rollin’ in with Joel yesterday mornin’. Walked right up to the bar and asked Penny for a job. She must have liked the look of her, ‘cause Penny accepted right then and there.”

“How interesting,” you trailed off. Bradley glanced at you before moving to stand. He held his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he smirked, pulling you towards the doors, “I’ll walk you home.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence down the street. Bradley’s hand rested gently on your lower back, and you felt giddy at the contact. You thought back on what Ricky and Michael had said to Bradley in the churchyard the other day, but then you thought about Penny’s words from that morning. The two of you stopped in front of the door to the house.

“Bradley,” you said, earning a hum from him. “Are you seeing any other girls?”

He stopped, turning to face you with a look of bewilderment. “What?”

“Are you seeing any other girls?” you repeated.

He stared at you. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I was just thinking about what the boys and Penny said,” you shrugged.

“I see,” he said slowly, studying you. “No, Birdie. Haven’t seen anyone since I laid eyes on you singin’ all sweet in that church.”

You blushed at his words, biting at your bottom lip to suppress the smile that threatened to make a home on your face. A grin broke out onto his face at the sight of your bashfulness, and he leaned against the door to look down at you, hovering over your space. The two of you looked at each other for a moment before Bradley’s smirk dropped, replaced with a look of confusion.

“Wait, what did Penny say?”

You giggled up at him before turning the knob on the door and pushing it open. You slipped inside before moving to close it behind you with one last giggle.

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

[halfway-happyyy]

i don't know how to explain except to say that- rooster bradshaw is the type of guy you fall in love with on the first date while he drives you home in the bronco with fleetwood mac blaring from the stereo