#bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jake-seresin · 2 years ago

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N-NOW LISTEN HERE!! I AM A HANGMAN GIRLIE THROUGH AND THROUGH BUT SOMETHING ABOUT THIS FIC UNLOCKED SOMETHING IN ME FOR ROOSTER THAT I AM STILL PROCESSING AKSJSJSJHSJSJSJKS

bradley bradshaw, ass man.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley loves your ass. that's it. that's the summary.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! vaginal fingering, rimming (female receiving), frottage.

word count: 2.3k

author's notes: from now, and until the end of time, thanks to the creator coven! love how we all mutually agreed that rooster was an ass man.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

From the moment you met Rooster, you knew that he was an “ass man.”

You met at the beach - he was out with his friends, and you were there with yours. You had been content to read your book and chat, gossip, enjoy the sun and each other’s company, and he had been tossing a football around with his friends. Said football landed on your towel, you and your two friends letting out startled shrieks. It was Bradley who approached, all smiles and all apologies, and you were instantly fucked.

The two friend groups ended up spending the rest of the day together, with Bradley’s friend Jake convincing the three of you to join in some football with them. None of you were particularly sporty, but it was more or less an excuse for the boys to get close to the three of you (although their friend Natasha had her eye on your best friend, and you knew for a fact that if Natasha had asked, she could have her).

Bradley was particularly keen on grabbing at you, and picking you up whenever you had the ball. He also playfully smacked your behind a few times, but he seemed to do that with everyone. Though at one point he threw you over his shoulder and gave your ass a playful smack. You would have stopped him if you hadn’t liked it so much.

The day had bled into the night, and he took you home at the end of it. He threw you over his shoulder again as he carried you into his house, and then tossed you onto his bed.

It had been a couple of months since that day and you’d barely left.

—

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that the two of you were rarely afforded. You’d slept in, convincing Bradley to forgo his usual morning jog, made waffles and coffee, and sprawled out on the couch together doing a crossword. It had been absolutely perfect.

Morning was beginning to blend into the afternoon, and you were quite content to do absolutely nothing with the rest of your day. Bradley had done a bit of lawn work and was throwing himself through a shower, while you laid in bed, reading a book.

“How was your shower, babe?” you asked idly, focusing on your book when you heard Bradley enter the bedroom.

You’d shifted positions in bed about five times before ultimately settling onto your stomach, which would likely only be comfortable for another few minutes. When Bradley didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at you.

“Babe?” you asked, laughing a little at him. “What’s up?”

“That ass,” he replied, grinning at you. “I walk in and you’re just flaunting that thing.”

You laughed again, turning back around onto the bed, eyes scanning the pages of your book. “Babe, I can assure you that I don’t flaunt it. It’s just fucking there.”

Bradley had walked over to the side of the bed that you were laying on, the dresser containing his clothes on that side of the room. He looked over at you, grinning coyly, before turning his attention fully back to you. Bradley set a knee down on the bed beside you, you made a startled noise, and suddenly Bradley was straddling the backs of your legs.

“How’s the book?” he asked, leaning over you and whispering into your hair.

“Mmm, it’s good. Not great though.”

“Fantastic,” Bradley added, reaching for your book and tossing it across the room.

“Bradley!” you shrieked, moving to roll over so that you could face him, only to have one of his strong hands on your shoulder and pushing you back down onto the bed.

“You said it wasn’t great!”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to throw it across the bedroom!”

Bradley covered your body with his, still damp from the shower, and you let out a playful squawk, trying to get away from him but truly you had no intentions of being anywhere other than under his weight. And given how intent Bradley seemed on keeping you in one place, attempting to get away from him was a fool’s errand.

“I don’t buy for a moment that you’re actually trying to get away,” Bradley murmured, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. You giggled a little as the hairs of his moustache brushed against your skin; it always both delighted and tickled you in every possible way. “Besides, this is all your fault.”

You playfully scoffed, feeling Bradley move back onto his knees. “How on earth is this my fault, Bradshaw?” you asked incredulously, trying to look over your shoulder. Bradley replied with a playful smack to your ass. “Oh, I see.”

“These shorts that you’re wearing leave absolutely nothing to the imagination,” Bradley said, hooking strong fingers into the waistband and beginning to tug them over your bottom. You smiled and bit at your lip, wriggling just a little so that Bradley could help you out of your shorts. “They’re far too short and far too tight,” he added, though there seemed to be a headiness to his voice. “You’re just better off without them.”

“I’m better off without them, or you’re better off without them?” you teased, gasping a little as your skin was exposed to the cooler air. You were wearing some rather revealing underwear beneath your shorts as well, more of your cheeks spilling out than they would in a common brief.

“Fuck,” Bradley rumbled, and you got the feeling that the playfulness that had encompassed the previous few minutes was giving way to something else.

He grabbed the globes of your ass firmly in his hands, kneading them with his fingers, pushing the flesh up and digging his blunt fingernails into them. You sighed, eyelids slipping closed, already forgetting what book you had even been reading before he’d sauntered into the bedroom.

“You’ve got such a pretty little ass,” Bradley murmured, delivering another little smack to one of your bottom. “Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m beginning to think that football ended up on my beach towel on purpose.”

“Nah, Bob just can’t pass for shit.”

You laughed, the sound a little breathless as you felt Bradley shifting behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched him pull off the towel wrapped around his waist, and were greeted with the sight of his hard cock smacking up against his stomach, already looking incredibly wet - and not because he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Bradley,” you sighed, laying your cheek down on the pillow.

He fisted his cock lazily a few times, his eyes roaming over your back and your ass, before he was swallowing thickly and pushing your legs apart. Bradley settled between your legs, gently kissing the curve of your spine, the dip just before the swell of your ass. His hands gripped you gently, reverently, and you shifted the tiniest bit in an attempt to get some friction against your clit.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Bradley hummed against your skin, warm from a morning of laziness and warmth beneath your comfiest clothes.

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Yes.”

You listened to something that sounded like a groan and a sigh of relief escape past his lips before he gripped at your underwear, shimmying them down your legs. You carefully helped to kick them off without kicking him in the face, the crotch, or anywhere else for that matter.

The only thing about being on your stomach that you didn’t care for was that you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see his face, attempt to figure out what he was thinking, or see what was coming next. That was part of what delighted you, but Bradley already sounded so wrecked and he hadn’t done anything but kiss you and take your bottoms off.

Bradley’s lips brushed against the swell of one of your cheeks, and you pursed your lips together tightly. He’d grabbed, slapped, groped, and spanked your ass plenty of times since you’d started seeing one another, but as far as you could recall this was the first time that he had kissed your ass. Those kisses soon turned into playful nips, and it being a sensation that you weren’t accustomed to, you wriggled against the sheets once more.

“Okay, sweetheart?” Bradley asked, pausing in his ministrations.

You nodded mutely, before responding with a broken “yes.”

Suddenly, he was spreading your cheeks apart, and you inhaled sharply. You had a vague idea of what you were in for, but nothing could have prepared you for Bradley’s tentative tongue against your asshole. The sound that came out of you was one that you hadn’t made before, and then that had you making another unfamiliar sound.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bradley rasped, amazed. “I’ve barely done anything.”

“Don’t care,” you moaned. “Feels good. Different.”

Bradley pressed a kiss against the back of one of your thighs and smiled against your skin before returning to where he had been moments before. You clutched at the sheets beneath your body as Bradley’s tongue gently laved against your hole, his hands kneading at your rear, fingers digging into the supple and soft flesh. He was soon tonguing at you more enthusiastically, the slip and slide of his tongue against you feeling and sounding deliciously improper.

You gasped his name, and pressed back against his face.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bradley groaned in approval. The gentle push and pull of his hands momentarily deviated into giving your ass another hearty smack, and you cried out, arching against the bed once more.

As if Bradley eating your ass wasn’t shocking and wonderful itself, he then did something completely unexpected. You heard him spit before you felt it against your hole.

“Did you -” God, you sounded absolutely wrecked and were still writhing against the bed, “- did you just spit on me?”

“It can get a little dry back here,” Bradley replied, an air of mirth in his voice before his tongue was dragging against you once more.

New kink unlocked. You needed Bradley to spit on you a) from now on, and b) on and into other orifices as well as your asshole.

For the first time, the brush of his moustache against your skin didn’t leave you giggling, but left you wanting more. Every sense felt heightened, and that was before the tip of Bradley’s tongue was breaching you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, pressing your forehead against the mattress. If anyone had asked you before that day how you felt about your partner rimming you, you probably would’ve been ambivalent toward it. Now you were sure it was going to feature on your list of requests in the bedroom. You figured that Bradley wouldn’t have any protests.

Just as Bradley’s tongue pressed inside, he was dragging two fingers along the wetness between your legs. Relieved to have the contact, you threw your head back and gasped, before pushing back - onto his thick fingers, onto his tongue.

“Bradley,” you gasped, fucking yourself slowly on his fingers.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Bradley groaned, plunging his tongue back into you, his fingers hooking into you in just the right spot. “Fuck baby, your pretty little cunt is just pulling my fingers in.”

You were going to say something clever, but he ripped a fervent wail from you instead. There were a cacophony of noises in the bedroom - your cries, Bradley’s fingers plunging into your cunt, his mouth devouring you through his own gentle moans - and it quickly became too much. You bent toward him as you came, trapping his face and his fingers exactly where you wanted them, exactly where he had put them.

“God,” Bradley gasped, pulling his fingers and his tongue from you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

You were laying against the sheets, mewling as you felt Bradley moving again to straddle the backs of your thighs. Through your post-orgasm haze, you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he situated his cock between your cheeks, wet with saliva, and some of your wetness that he’d dragged there.

Mouth opened to speak, Bradley answered your question before you asked it, hands grabbing at the globes of your ass and pushing them closer together, dragging the head of his cock against your hole, and fucking the tight channel he’d created.

“Baby,” Bradley whined, head thrown back. “Baby, holy fuck.”

You laid there squirming, feeling a little oversensitive after coming, as Bradley rutted against you, fucking between your cheeks. Knowing he had already been far gone while eating you out and fucking your with his fingers, you weren’t at all shocked when you felt him twitching against you, fingers digging into your ass, hot come shooting across your back.

Bradley fell forward, catching himself from falling directly onto you by bracing his hands against the bed. You were still undulating against the bed, pressing back against him, and he shuddered, turning his head and pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Sorry that was brief,” he murmured, breathless as he planted kisses on you everywhere that his mouth could reach.

You turned your head too, kissing Bradley awkwardly on his mouth, tongue licking at his bottom lip. When you pulled away, you were still searching for something to say, not because you couldn’t think of anything, but because your brain felt like it had been through a food processor.

“Bradley,” you began, looking into his blown brown eyes, “you spit on me.”

“What?”

“You spit on me!” you laughed.

He wasn’t certain if he was in trouble or not, and managed a small laugh. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was okay,” you chuckled, your hand curling behind his head, fingers working their way slowly through his curls, scratching at his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m more mad about though. That it turned me on, or it took me this long to figure it out.”

/end.

#tgm: rooster fic #fic recs #daggers reblog challenge #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n

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roosterforme · 2 months ago

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Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat."

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend."

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board.

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

-----------------------

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck.

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there.

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered.

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too! A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking."

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense.

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall.

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host.

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more?

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back?

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID."

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard.

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties.

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again.

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him.

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here.

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

----------------------------

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone.

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb.

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this.

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him.

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

-----------------------------

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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purelyfiction · 8 months ago

Text

and they were roommates. - a bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!roommate au

coming soon...

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x f!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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jake-seresin · 2 years ago

Note

something about girldad!rooster always leaves me in shambles 🥺 this was so wholesome 🫶🏼

hi babe, I have a request not sure if you are taking but- I was wondering if you could do something like Bradley's little girl, goes to the doctor to get a shot, and Bradley's there to comfort her while she's crying

Aww this was a such a cute request, I just had to do it! Thanks for sending it in :D

A Little Pinch

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Summary: Rooster tries to hold it together for the sake of his daughter while she gets a shot.

CW: needle (not graphic), fluff, dad Rooster

WC: 875

Masterlist

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Bradley mutters, holding your daughter in his lap as he kisses her head. “I’m right here and I promise you’re going to be okay.”

Your daughter is bawling in anticipation of the needle the doctor is preparing but you know that this shot is going to hurt your husband more than it will hurt her.

Rooster looks up at you with tears in his eyes as he pats your daughter’s head. “It’s going to be quick, sweetheart,” he says gently, trying to console himself just as much as he is trying to soothe her.

Your daughter shakes her head and turns on his lap, burying her face in his chest. Rooster gives you a desperate look, wrapping his arms around the little girl to comfort her. In his big arms, she feels safe and her sniffles grow quieter as her breathing steadies.

“You’ll have to hold her arm down tightly so that she doesn’t move,” the doctor says, approaching the three of you.

Your daughter begins to wail anew, thrashing in Rooster’s embrace. “No!” she screams.

Rooster takes the beating without so much as a wince, looking on at her sympathetically as he tries to unstick her hair from her wet cheeks. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, taking her face in his hands. “I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. Being scared is natural. It’s important to be scared sometimes so that we can avoid danger, right?”

You daughter nods, sniveling.

Rooster smiles at her. “But you trust daddy, right?”

She nods again.

Rooster sighs. “It’s going to be a pinch,” he tells her honestly, in response to which your daughter lets out a whine. “But it won’t last long!” Rooster continues. “Remember that time you fell off your bike and scraped your knee?”

Your daughter bobs her head up and down, crying a little harder.

“It won’t hurt nearly as much as that, okay?”

Your daughter whimpers quietly.

“We’re going to count to five, and then it’ll all be over, okay sweetheart? Will you help me count?”

Your daughter sighs shakily, but her crying has subsided. “I can count to twenty,” she says between sniffles.

Rooster chuckles. “I know, you little smarty pants,” he responds, ruffling her hair. “But the pinch will only last until we count to five. How does that sound?”

Your daughter nods again, then sniffs softly as he turns her back around on his lap.

“I’m going to hold on really tight and I won’t let go, okay?” Rooster mutters in her ear.

“Okay,” she agrees.

“Ready to count?” he asks.

“Ready.”

You smile at your daughter as she looks up at you and hold out your fingers as the two of them begin to count.

“One, two” - somewhere between one and five, your daughter starts to scream, but Rooster holds her tightly and continues counting - “three, four, five.”

“All done!” the doctor says.

Your daughter is crying while Rooster cradles her in his arms. “It’s over, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“That hurt!” your daughter wails.

“I know, baby. I know.” He stands up, holding her firmly to his body. “But you did it! My brave girl, I’m so proud of you!”

Your daughter hugs him back. “That’s it?” she cries. “Is it over?”

“It’s over, princess,” he whispers, blinking back his tears as he kisses the side of her head.

You stroke your husband’s arm as the doctor puts a Band-Aid on your daughter. Rooster looks like he’s about to pass out which is, on the one hand, a little funny considering his profession and the amount of stress he faces on a daily basis, and on the other, making you fall in love with him all over again.

Rooster puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, still holding your daughter at his hip. “You okay?” he asks you gently.

You bite your lip and smile at him. You seem to be handling the situation much better than your husband, and you wonder whether it’s because you feel as though he is suffering enough for the both of you. “I’m okay,” you say. “Are you okay?”

He blinks wearily. “I think I’m okay,” he responds. “I might need a lollipop or something.”

You chuckle as your daughter chimes in, “I want a lollipop!”

“Oh, you definitely deserve a lollipop,” Rooster says happily, waving at the doctor as the three of you exit the office. “You probably deserve some stickers too. Maybe a trip to the toy store?” he says, turning to look at you hopefully.

You daughter starts bouncing in excitement on his arm. “Toy store! Toy store!”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Sure,” you reply.

Rooster lets out a giant sigh as the three of you step outside. “I’m so glad that’s over,” he says.

You smile at him warmly. “You were very brave, too, darling,” you say.

Rooster puts a hand on your daughter’s back to hold her up as he leans over to give you a kiss. “It wasn’t easy,” he mutters against your lips.

You laugh. “Well, I’m proud of you.”

He grins at you. “I probably deserve a treat, too,” he says with a wink.

“Daddy! You’re getting a lollipop!” your daughter reminds him.

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 The rest of the tags are in the comments!

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#tgm: rooster fic #fic recs #daggers reblog challenge #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw fluff

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warnersister · 8 months ago

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Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

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.”

Pt. 2

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queenofwands89 · 3 months ago

Text

Quiet Affections

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Pilot!reader

Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.

Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.

Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! 🎉 I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. I’m down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee

You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.

"Y/N, you know Hangman’s got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.

You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."

Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless he’s talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.

Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.

Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"

Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."

You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."

Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. It’s not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.”

In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.

You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise—this stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.

Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jake’s glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "you’ll be dealing with me."

The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.

As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.

You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Then there was the night when you couldn’t sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.

The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.

You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "I…I just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."

Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxieties—the relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.

Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."

His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoction—an oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadn’t even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.

These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.

Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time there’s a tender softness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before—or perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.

“Miss me?” he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.

You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. “Like a bad habit, Seresin.”

But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends aren’t so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.

Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.

You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.

For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldn’t be easily shaken. One thing was for sure—things were going to get interesting.

Text divider credits: @bunnysrph

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sometimesanalice · 5 months ago

Text

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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jake-seresin · 2 years ago

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I get the feeling that this one’s gonna hurt a bit but you know what? I love me some good angst so bring it on!!! 😌 rooster definitely deserved that knee, i’m surprised she didn’t right hook him immediately after !! I can’t wait to see him get his ass handed back to him in a silver platter!!

BADLANDS | ONE

a/n: guess who's late to the fucking party. meh it's alright i'm just here to drool over miles teller with y'all. seriously i churned this out so fast it's ridiculous. the top gun maverick wave passed already, but i'm dropping this series either way. it's not beta read but semi-edited so there will probably be a few mistakes i missed. hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think if you liked it!

reblogs, comments, and feedback is always welcome!!

summary: you fucking hated bradley "rooster" bradshaw. it wasn't your fault your knee accidentally met his groin.

word count: 4.7k+

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradhsaw x fem!reader (callsign panther)

warnings: enemies to lovers plot, explicit so MINORS GO AWAY, cussing, arguing, angst, mention of past screw ups, longing looks, alcohol consumption, minor violence, p in v sex, rooster is a bit of an asshole here, but we're working on that.

next chapter

You’d never miss the smell of the fuel as the planes took off in the sky; the echo of the engines reverberating through the air. Hell, you’d never miss the sight of it—your lungs burning to gain oxygen as you stood on the sidelines and watched. The day was winding down, all pilots having arrived in the one place you didn’t want to come back to, but nonetheless you took them up on their offer. You couldn’t say no.

Not to something like this.

The closer you walked up the pathway to the building ahead, the more a feeling of dread began to knot in your stomach, turning your insides. Some part of you knew that saying yes meant the chance of having to return to a place where you watched your life fall apart. A place that was so well engraved in your bones that you could navigate it perfectly while being blindfolded. Still your stubbornness won out and there you stood. Three feet away from the front door of the Hard Deck.

“Dammit,” you whispered, watching as two girls nearly collapsed as they stumbled out. Their giggling filling the air and pressing the weight on your lungs down even further. You remembered being like them once.

Music poured out of the open door. Laughter following it. You could spot a few familiar faces through the window and smiled at the sight of them still in their uniforms. You had opted for a simple jeans and t-shirt combo; your combat boots nearly falling apart and held together by the laces. They were old enough to be considered a relic, but you were too fond of the embroidered plane on the side. That had been your first sign to join the Navy.

Back then you relied on those small little signs to keep you going—to tell you where to go—but now…you felt as if there were no more signs to receive. You made this decision on pure dumb fucking luck and even you knew you may not make it out of here alive. They hadn’t briefed you on the mission yet—the same would be said for the others—but you weren’t an idiot. You knew that the best pilots were standing in that bar tonight and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

The word nervous didn’t even begin to cover what you felt as you reached for the door handle. For the first time in a long time…you hand shook. The burn in your lungs returned as you realized this was it. There was no turning back once you stepped through those doors. So, you decided to go against your instincts, hoping you weren’t shit out of luck this time, and pulled the door open. The loud music and echo of the crowd filled up your veins, replacing the burn of engine fuel and easing some of the weight off of your chest.

Penny laughed with someone you thought you recognized, but couldn’t quite make out his face through the crowd. She was too enamored to notice you. However, you didn’t mind. Not when someone else had clearly spotted you through the crowd, her eyes lighting up and a smirk tugging at her lips.

Ah Phoenix.

“And here I thought they were only calling the best,” she said over the noise as you walked closer.

She scanned your figure, taking in the few tattoos you’d gotten over the years and landing at the sight of your boots sticking out like a sore thumb. You didn’t seek out people’s approval often, but Phoenix was special. Before graduating you were practically joined at the hip, desperate to keep one another alive as you attempted to navigate the world around you. Of course not everything stayed the same. You just wished that piece of your life had.

You knew just thinking that was selfish, but you couldn’t help it.

“Then why are you here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as her inspection came to a close.

“Don’t you know? I’m here to take your spot Panther.”

For the first time in weeks, you laughed. A real genuine laugh that sunk deep into your body and shook you to your core. You shifted closer, gripping her in a hug that finally felt like coming home and strangely enough…you were okay with it. She smelled like jasmine perfume and apples. A combination that shouldn’t have worked, but with her it did, and memories from when you were younger flooded through your mind.

Fuck, you had missed her.

“It’s good to have you back,” she whispered, pulling away and shooting you another smile. “Come meet the newbies.”

“Newbies you say?” Your curiosity peaked as you faced the group that surrounded the pool table.

“Fuck off Phoenix. I’d say I’m more experienced than you are.” A blonde man said. He had a smile that would have made your heart flutter if you weren’t so turned off by his personality. He screamed egomaniac, but you let it slide knowing how some pilot’s heads were too large to fit in their own helmets sometimes.

“That’s Hangman,” she muttered. “An ass who thinks he’s too good to be true.” You turned to the others, smiling at the man who sat silently in the chair, his glasses propped up on the tip of his nose. “And over here we’ve got Payback, Fanboy, Coyote and Bob.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in your throat. “Bob? Is that your callsign?” He nodded, a faint red tinge flooding the tops of his cheeks and melting your heart. “I like it,” you said, shooting him a wink and enjoying as he blushed even harder.

“Boys meet my former wingman Panther. One of the best.”

Nudging Phoenix in the side, you grabbed the beer she handed you. “Don’t you worry boys. Phoenix here will be taking my job before you know it.”

The beer tasted the exact same, like a strong swig of gasoline, and you relished in the bitter tang of it as you swallowed. Last time you were here things hadn’t gone so smoothly. Phoenix and you nearly broke each other’s noses as you explained you were no longer going to be her wingman after graduation—heading off on your own path. She never knew the real reason why you turned tail and ran; why you refused to catch up with her after all these years. But you knew…you knew what happened to cause you so much fear it nearly paralyzed you.

“I’ll be damned. Is that you kitty cat?”

You stiffened where you stood, the voice behind you nearly causing you to run out the back doors. What the fuck was he doing here? He couldn’t possibly be one of the contenders for the mission and it was then you realized you should have followed your gut instinct, because right now you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Guess you were truly shit out of luck.

Turning, you swallowed the now flavorless beer as your eyes met his—the small smirk on his lips the exact same. A flash of him younger, wearing a taunting smile came to mind. Really everything about him was the same, but you could barely focus on everything else. The others greeted him with excited tones, obviously glad to see him. Except you could barely pick up your tongue which now felt like lead—his eyes never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you croaked out, noticing the way Phoenix gauged your interaction at seeing him again.

No doubt, she’d ask you about it later and just as you always did…you’d deny everything.

“What, you think you’re the only good one here?” He was still pissed. You saw the way his eyes flared, the look of anger being tamped down quickly with another grin and snarky response. “Didn’t know you thought so highly of yourself, kitten.”

“Fuck you Bradshaw.”

The words were blurted out, an instinct after so many years going at each other’s throats, but even now…they felt off. As if you were still in a dream—watching him smile and greet the others with true joy. You however got another brief glare as your words settled in his skin; his hackles rising as he held himself back from taking a chunk out of your jugular. You’d verbally sparred with Rooster enough to know he could tear you down with only a few words.

So why was he holding back now?

“Kitten’s still got claws,” he joked, grabbing a beer and taking a swig.

“And I’m not afraid to use them, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

His eyes narrowed at the use of the formalities. Everyone referred to him as Rooster, but not you. At first it was to get under his skin, watch him squirm as he fought against ripping you a new one, but now…it felt different. Now you did it without realizing; the familiar territory you held with him only based on one thing. Hatred of the other person. If there’s one thing you could count on it was this—Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw hated you just as much as you hated him.

You couldn’t even remember when the feud first began, the memory now faded in the back of your mind, but it lasted through the years at TopGun. That is until that night. Right before you took off and ran from everything you were offered here. Fuck, you could still feel the burn of his eyes against your skin as he touched you—the anger dissipating into something more. That’s what terrified you. The idea that you and him could be more than just this.

“I thought you were done with the Navy,” he said, ignoring the curious looks of the others as they took in your obvious hostile nature towards one another.

“And I thought you were done being a dick, but here we are.”

Phoenix choked on her sip of beer, coughing so hard you had to pat her on the back to help her clear her throat. “You two haven’t changed,” she mused, a glint in her eyes as she watched Bradley.

“Guess not,” he stated, giving you a look you couldn’t read before turning away entirely and focusing on the others instead.

You knew that reaction from the days at TopGun. The same one that used to drive you up the wall at his absolute arrogance. He was done talking to you for the night, the conversation having lost the luster he once craved with you. Believe it or not, he was the one who usually began your fights—the cause for which you did not know—but tonight he seemed different. Granted, several years had passed since you last saw one another. You chalked it up to him finally having grown up after so long getting on your last nerves.

“I’m going to get something stronger,” you said to Phoenix, motioning to where Penny stood.

Bruce Springsteen played in the background, a song you’d heard over and over again back when you were first in TopGun. Hell, you used to come here religiously. Drowning yourself in partying and drinking before having to drag your ass out of bed and do it all over again. Even though you’d blocked out most of that time in your mind, you could always remember Penny being there for you. A friend more than anything else.

“Well look who’s come home again,” she called out to you, sliding a glass of bourbon across the bartop with a smile. She remembered your favorite. Just that alone made your defensive shield lower a bit.

“You just can’t seem to get rid of me once and for all.” You took a sip, nearly moaning at the familiar taste.

She shrugged, wiping down the bartop beside you. “I wouldn’t want to either way.”

“Glad someone wants me back.” The words were muttered to yourself; the sour feeling of interacting with Bradley still permeated your senses. You knew running away from him was what caused this hostility; after all you’d be pissed too if it was him running away from you.

You’d made your bed and now you were finally lying in it.

Penny’s hand pressed against yours, the comforting smile was one thing you missed all those years being away. “Give him time.”

You reared back. “No, it’s not what you think—”

“I’m not an idiot.” She poured more bourbon into your glass. “You think I don’t know what happened between you two? I was the one who saw him after you made your choice.”

Just that thought alone made you wince—imagining Bradley try to drown his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. Part of your reasoning was that you were both too young. You had no idea what you were getting yourselves into, but you knew what the truth of the matter really was. Fear made that decision for you and like an idiot, you took off running towards the sunset, never looking back and never once thinking of what it did to him in the end. After all, you didn’t have to.

Both you and Bradley were on different ends of the world. While he was no doubt building up his career, you were trying to hide in your own mistakes and only did smaller missions here and there. Anything to avoid coming into contact with him. Did that make you a chicken shit? Yes it did. Yet all your work to forget the past didn’t seem to come in handy when your past stood a few feet away, happily ignoring your existence.

“He hates me,” you muttered, watching as he unplugged the jukebox and took a seat at the beloved piano.

“He hates what you did.” She took your empty glass and replaced it with a beer; her way of cutting you off from hard liquor for the night. “But knowing him. He couldn’t hate you even if he tried.”

“No need to lie on my behalf Penny,” you said, tossing down the cash needed, ignoring her sound of protest. “I’ll see you soon.”

She opened her mouth to bargain with you to stay, but Bradley’s voice singing broke your concentration from her. The song brought a wave of nostalgia to your body, so strong you nearly buckled right where you stood. It had been awhile since you heard him sing, but that didn’t stop the racing of your heart. The sensation you still loathed to this day. You went there once and no matter how much Penny’s words stuck to your skin, slowly digging their way to your heart, you couldn’t go back.

You wouldn’t.

Catching Phoenix’s gaze you waved to her as you headed towards the backdoor, throwing one last glance at Bradley in the hopes of possibly catching his eye as well. He looked…happy. So much so that the sight nearly made you dizzy and you didn’t bother shoving down the smile this time as the entire bar joined in, nearly shouting the chorus. That one look—it would have to keep you going for a while. You knew he hated you; felt the frigid way he glared at you. So, you fell back to your old ways. You shut out the prospect of more and settled for less, knowing that it would keep you safe in the end.

The door swung shut with a bang as the music was quieted by the roaring waves crashing to the shore. Your leather jacket kept the chill out and you headed towards the water, sand sticking to your boots. Sure you missed The Hard Deck and Phoenix and hell you even missed Bradley, but if there’s one thing you yearned for more than anything. It was this. Being able to sit on the cool sand and smell the saltiness of the ocean in the air.

Why did you ever give this up?

Why did you give him up?

They were questions you didn’t hold answers to—questions you were terrified to answer once and for all. The sound of the door echoed behind you; the crunch of boots on the sand coming closer as you continued to stare at the horizon. A cold beer was pressed to your hand as Phoenix took the spot beside you, her grim look telling you that she was about to berate you for keeping shit from her. Yeah…you definitely missed her.

“You’re an idiot Panther.”

You spluttered, nearly spilling the beer onto the sand. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not—”

“So Rooster looked like a kicked puppy as you left for no reason?”

Her words pressed against your already aching chest; the image of him sad was far more painful than any injury you sustained and you hated it. “It’s…complicated.”

She took a sip of her beer, contemplating your words—her eyes never leaving the horizon. “So uncomplicate it for me.”

You scoffed. “That might take awhile.”

Finally she turned to look at you, the same glint in her eyes that you knew so well. The same one that said you’d be spilling everything without question. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve got all night.”

So you spilled your guts right there on the beach. You told her about that night at the bar, about the words he said, the promises he made to you and even about what happened after. How he went from treating you like enemy number one to someone he could no longer keep out of his system—someone he longed for day in and day out. She listened to it all and winced as your voice cracked with emotion, because for the first time you finally told someone how you felt. You revealed the hidden crevices of your heart you kept so guarded and hoped she would accept you in the end.

The truth was it may have hurt Bradley when you left, but it sure as hell hurt you a lot more to be the one leaving.

“There’s a reason why he hates me now Phoenix and it’s not just competition or petty arguments anymore.”

Thankfully she stayed silent, simply wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you furiously wiped away the tears that fell. You couldn’t believe you were crying over Bradley Bradshaw. If younger you could see you now she’d call you pathetic for letting him get so deep under your skin. But there was no denying what you ignored for all these years. You couldn’t anymore even if you tried.

You hated Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw with a burning passion, and yet…you loved him all the same.

The thumping of boots entering the building knocked against your brain like a hammer hitting a nail into wood. It had been awhile since you guzzled down alcohol like it was water and waking up to a hangover was the last thing you needed. Yet you still dragged your ass out of the bed, taking a freezing cold shower to hopefully dampen some of the pain, and downing a searing cup of black coffee on your way here.

You were seated at a desk, your notebook in front of you and a pen tossed on top. They were for notes on the mission, just in case you needed to remember things—which you probably did given the extremity of your hangover. Fuck, next time Phoenix offered to drag you back to her place for one more round, you would make sure to flip her off and go home. Somehow during the night you managed to drive—albeit clumsily—back to your small apartment. The musty scent of it being boarded up for so long caused you to vomit the second you entered the door.

“What’s the matter kitten? Can’t handle your drinks anymore?” Bradley’s voice sneered behind you. Just that alone caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

You opted to ignore him, rubbing your forehead as you tried not to throw up the coffee you drank—even as it burned its way through your stomach. Flying today would be hell, but you wouldn’t give Bradley the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. Let alone watching you fail. You could recall the taunting remarks he made back then whenever you missed the mark. They were the one thing that made you strive to be better. Even if it was purely out of spite for him.

“So is this your version of the cold shoulder act?” He seemed to be in an unforgiving mood today. “I got to say it’s not working for me.”

Biting back the array of curse words that built up in your throat, you simply squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. Hoping that if you thought hard enough he’d simply vanish into thin air. Maybe if you clicked your heels three times it would work. Although you weren’t sure your old combat boots would do the trick, given their wear and tear over the years. They were hardly ruby red slippers, but you’d try anything to get him off your ass.

“Just admit it. You’re only here to be our understudy. You know the pilot who gets left behind due to lack of experience.”

You spun around so fast the room shifted in your view—the nausea building up in your stomach. “Careful Bradshaw or I just might think you’re talking up a big game for nothing. What’s the matter? Are you making up for a lack of something?”

His face darkened, eyes narrowing at the sight of your grin. “You and I both know that’s bullshit.”

“What is? You talking up your ego? Or your lack of…something?” The headache had dulled now to a small throbbing pain thankfully as you took all your anger out on him.

He leaned forward, his face so close that you could count the individual flecks of gold in his eyes and your heart fluttered. “I proved my something to you already, kitten or have you forgotten who’s name you screamed that night?” His voice was low enough that the others couldn’t hear him, but you heard him loud and clear.

That night wasn’t entirely forgotten from your mind and just like someone flipping a light switch on, memories flooded your mind.

“Bradley!” you cried. Your nails scratched so hard along his back you were sure it would leave marks come morning. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Not when he gripped your leg and yanked it over his shoulder, thrusting into you so roughly that you were shoved up the bed.

“That’s it kitten,” he grunted, his voice barely audible over the slapping of skin against skin and the wet squelch of your pussy. “Come on. Give me one more.”

Shifting the angle of his hips, he struck gold—a sharp keening wail bouncing off the walls of his small shack. His head shot up, eyes meeting yours as a blinding smile spread across his lips. He could listen to the sounds you made all fucking day if it meant he was the one inside of you and like a madman seeking his prize, he sped up. His cock pounding into you, hitting your g-spot with so much precision you would have thought he was hitting a target that was assigned to him.

Your toes curled over his shoulders, the pleasure mounting in your body so high that it made your vision blurry, but you forced yourself to watch him. To see the sweat practically drip from his face as his lust clouded eyes bored into yours. He panted with every thrust, baring his teeth and fighting against his own release, because he wanted to see you fall apart around his cock again. He needed to feel it.

His name was like a prayer on your lips and with a final devastating thrust, you shattered.

Your thighs clenched as the vivid memory played on a never ending loop in your mind. His eyes flashed with the same look from that night as he remembered what happened too, and suddenly your hangover was not the only issue. If you could go back and change things you would. Maybe then you and Bradley would be on the same page rather than different ones—maybe you wouldn’t have to tear the other one down just to feel something again.

“Good morning.”

You tore your gaze away from his, turning back to face the front as his eyes still burned a hole in the back of your head. What you wouldn’t give to switch seats with Phoenix who sat across from you, but one glance in her direction and the shit eating smile she gave you told you enough. You would remain right where you were—facing the consequences of your actions. Perhaps if you asked the Navy to reconsider, you could leave again, focus on other things instead of the man behind you who’s sole mission in life was to make yours a living hell.

“Please follow me outside,” the man you learned to be called Maverick said, turning swiftly and taking the lead.

Your chair screeched across the floor as you practically rushed out after him, adamant on getting away. But it didn’t help. A hand gripped your upper arm, yanking you backwards and nearly causing you to trip on your own feet. Anger burned hot in your veins as you spun around, coming face to face with a glowering Bradshaw. He looked at you like you were the very bane of his existence—the reason he was where he stood.

“Let go of me,” you spit, yanking against his bruising hold.

“Not until we get one thing clear.”

“Fuck you Bradshaw.”

He smiled, the sight coming off as menacing. “You’re not the leader here. Not while I’m around.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Another yank proved your efforts to be futile. He wouldn’t be letting you go—not unless it was his choice to do so.

“We both know you’re not here to be the best. You just showed up because they ordered you to. So why don’t you back off and let me take it from here? You know I’m the better pilot.”

“I can’t wait to watch you crash and burn,” you sneered, feeling your heart twist at the flash of hurt in his eyes. He masked it quickly enough though.

“You can’t keep your goddamn mouth shut for one minute huh kitten.”

Yanking as hard as you could, he finally released his grip causing you to stumble back. “Go to hell.”

There was one card he hadn’t played yet in this ongoing game of hatred—the single card you knew he was keeping up his sleeve in case a moment like this came up. His eyes narrowed, the glare so brutal you swore you were dead on the ground as he got in your face; the warmth of him being so close to you made your heart beat erratically. The shuffle of feet quieted down as only you and him stood in the hangar, staring each other down until the other backed off. Yet you didn’t see him aiming his punishing words in the back of his mind.

You barely even saw him pull the trigger.

“You’re one to talk about crash and burn. Tell me, how is your second wingman after Phoenix? Hunter, is it?”

The missile landed dead on target, your heart shattering at the mention of the man you couldn’t save. Pain flashed across your face; your eyes welling up with unshed tears and you could physically see Bradley try to reel back his words. His face went stricken with an anguish that surely matched yours as his mouth opened and closed. Except the words had been said and there was no taking back the lethality of his intentions.

He wanted to win and played his final card.

He just didn’t know how harsh that final card was.

Your true name left his lips, pouring salt on your wound and you shook your head—wiping your face clean of any emotions. He wanted to see your reaction and you refused to give him the satisfaction. No one got to see you in pain, especially him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt y—shit!” He groaned in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his groin as your leg lowered to the ground.

“Yeah you did,” you said, turning on your heel and leaving him there, now certain that the choice you made all those years ago was the right one in the end.

#series: badlands #tgm: rooster fic #fic recs #daggers reblog challenge #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n

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simpforrooster · 1 year ago

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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.

masterlist.

#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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roosterforme · 28 days ago

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California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago."

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

--------------------------------

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly.

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

----------------------------

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

---------------------------------

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house.

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him.

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

------------------------------

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia.

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking.

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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jake-seresin · 2 years ago

Text

DAD!ROOSTERRR 🥹🥹 THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR FAR TOO LONG NOW AND IM SO ASHAMED THAT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS GEM. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY IM CRYING BUT ITS SO HEARTWARMING YET SAD HOW BRADLEY WANTING TO JUST BRAG ABOUT HIS LITTLE FAMILY BUT HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO TELL MAV. ALSO,,, REREADING THE ENDING JUST MAKES ME WANT TO CRY AGAIN

Meet You All The Way – 1/5

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OC/Reader

Summary: Now that they had reconciled, Rooster is struggling to figure out the right way to tell Maverick that he had a family all of his own now.

Warnings: maybe some language? Mav being sad :( unplanned pregnancy, not much else i think?

Notes: listen, i just think rooster is neat :) the next few chapters are going to be flashbacks to how rooster and his gal met, and fell in lov <3 dedicated to my husband, who keeps threatening to grow a moustache

1. Lamb & Goose

Rooster should feel good.

No, Rooster should feel great.

He had, for a while at least. In the hours immediately following their impossible return from what should have been the end for both of them, Rooster and Maverick had been granted a mercifully short debrief, and then like Mav had promised, they’d talked.

It had occurred to Bradley halfway through their reconciliation, just how long it had been, almost a full eighteen years, and how it was only then, after the last of his anger was finally let go, that he realised how much it had been weighing him down.

The lightness he feels in the wake of his forgiveness is short-lived, though, as they begin both reminiscing on their lives over the past eighteen years, their careers, sharing stories and various anecdotes they would have otherwise known if not for the rift between them.

Unlike the weight of his anger, the weight of Bradley’s guilt makes itself known right away. If Mav notices sooner, he doesn’t let on, and if it were anything else, Rooster might’ve appreciated the space, but now he just wishes the other man would bring it up, take the difficult part out of his own hands. He doesn’t, though, but six days into their post-mission leave, he does begin to let on that he knew something was up.

But enough was enough now, so Bradley steals himself, and does what he should have done from the moment they’d found one another again.

“Mav, there’s something I need to talk to you about…” he avoids visibly wincing at his own words, but doesn’t miss the downward slope of his adoptive uncle’s mouth, despite the reassuringly calm expression he wears. He doesn’t speak, but he does place his wrench down and turn to face the younger man as he wipes off his hands.

“I…” Rooster starts, but his voice cuts off without his full permission, and he drops his gaze. How was he supposed to do this? It wasn’t as if there were a guidebook he could buy. Rooster’s eyes catch on something to his left then, Mav’s photo board, his eyes lingering on one of the many pictures of his father that hung there.

He sends a quick ‘thanks, dad’ out into the universe, and turns his head back to the man in front of him, pushing off the bench he was leaning against so that he can dig his wallet out of his back pocket. It takes a bit of work to wriggle one of the small 2x3 photographs out from behind the worn plastic covering meant to display his ID, and takes a short moment to appreciate the image for himself before he looks back to Maverick.

“Here,” he says, watching as Mav pauses momentarily, before throwing down the rag he holds and carefully plucking the photograph from between his fingers. Rooster can’t help but bounce his knee slightly as he settles back against the bench, watching as Maverick’s eyes flicker over the photo seemingly inch by inch, taking in each detail closely.

At last, he looks up, lips pulled into an easy smile.

“She’s beautiful,” he says warmly, holding the page out again, and Bradley takes it without much thought, sliding it back into place while he nods.

“She is. Smarter than I’ll ever be, too,” he adds, his own features unable to hold back any longer from breaking into a full, soppy grin. Mav chuckles and tilts his head in understanding.

“Doctor Rosanna Lamb,” he says almost to himself, always in disbelief how he’d gotten so lucky. Mav whistles lowly.

“Where’s she stationed?” he asks, referencing the matching Navy uniforms you’d both been wearing in the photo, and settles himself against the side of the Mustang they’d previously both been working on.

“She’s a surgeon, so they’re generally happy to station us together. She put in a request for North Island a couple of days ago, after I told her about the new squadron they’re forming for us here,” Rooster tells him, pausing briefly before adding; “She’ll be here next week.”

Maverick smiles at him, and pushes off the plane, pulling Bradley in toward him, and giving his back a gentle smack as they embrace.

“I’m happy for you, Bradley, I really am,” he says after pulling away again, but still holding onto the younger man’s shoulders. He gives him a tight squeeze and releases him.

“I’ll have to take the two of you to dinner when she’s settled,” Mav states, and without much thought to it, Rooster hums noncommittally.

“Maybe.”

Mav raises an eyebrow in amusement, and cocks his head playfully.

“What? Not ready for her to meet the family?” he jokes. Rooster chortles, and shakes his head.

“It depends more on if Amelia is up for babysitting.”

Bradley can feel the moment his heartbeat spikes, watches intently as Maverick blinks in confusion, processing the words carefully as he does. Bradley flips open his wallet again, and this time he pulls out a different photo, bigger than the 2x3 one, and he unfolds it, smooths it out, before slowly handing it over.

Maverick cautiously takes it, his expression still pulled into a frown, but his sharp intake of breath is audible. He’s barely glanced at the photo before his eyes flicker back to Rooster, and then down again. He brings the picture closer, swallows thickly as he stares down at it silently. When Rooster can see his eyes have begun turning a little red, he clears his throat.

“His name is Nick. That one’s a little old, he’s nearly five now but it’s one of my favourites,” Rooster smiles as Maverick finally tears his eyes away, holding his gaze with what the younger man can only describe as pure remorse.

“Nick,” Mav repeats, voice a little croaky, and Rooster nods.

“We usually just call him Goose.”

That makes him chuckle, despite the melancholic look he still wears, and he glances back down to the boy in the photo, dressed up as Luke Skywalker in his iconic orange flight suit two Halloween’s ago. Rooster had gone as Han Solo, and you as Leia of course.

“Yeah, he looks like a Goose,” Mav agrees, before the sadness finally begins to fade from his eyes, turning into nothing but pure adoration. He moves to hand the picture back, but Rooster shakes his head, before gesturing to the photo wall.

“You keep it.” He tells him, lips twitching with a smile at the total lack of argument that comes from the other man, who immediately draws the photograph near again.

Mav smiles, and pulls him back in. He doesn’t let go so soon this time.

“He’s beautiful. Congratulations.”

“Babe, I’m so happy for you, I bet you feel so much lighter,” your voice crackles over the speaker on Rooster’s phone, and he can hear the soft smile in your voice. He nods, even though you can’t see him.

“Yeah. I do. I really do.” he sighs contently, and curls an arm under his head. Some shuffling on the other end, your voice muffled, and then more clearly, you let out an exasperated sigh of your own.

“I swear to god, it’s like he has a sixth sense for when you’re on the phone… Come on, Goose honey, say hello to daddy…”

Rooster perks up, only briefly checking the time before his full attention is on the sleepy little voice that calls out down the line.

“Hi daddy!” the five-year-old had clearly been asleep until recently, his voice excited, but a little droopy still.

“Heya, Goose, how’re you doing, pal? Are you getting excited for the big move?” Rooster feels bad he isn’t able to head back even for a few days to help you organise everything, but he also knows you were more than capable and more than prepared, had this sort of thing down to a T by now.

“Uh-huh! Can’t wait to see you daddy! Mommy said there’s gonna be a beach, and lots of planes, and–” Goose’s voice cuts off for a moment as you say something inaudible to him, but he’s back before Rooster can comment.

“And she said Uncle Jake is with you!”

Rooster’s eyes narrow and he glares, but only because neither of you are able to see him.

“You don’t have an Uncle Jake,” he grumbles, going completely ignored as Goose continues to talk about all the things he was excited for in California. When the boy is done listing things, Rooster clears his throat a little.

“Are you excited to meet your Grandpa Mav?” He feels a nervousness at the question, unsure if the boy would remember the name you and he had given his adoptive uncle when they’d spent an evening going through his mom’s photo albums, so that Goose could see the man he was named for.

“Uh-huh! Mommy said he put my picture on his wall!” Goose preens. Rooster chuckles and realises you must have shown him the photo he’d snapped earlier, of the newest photograph that had pride of place at the centre of the collage.

“He sure did pal, he was very particular about making sure he could see it at every angle,” he hears his son giggle down the line, and the sound makes every bit of hardship he’d ever endured worth it. He’d go through a hundred times worse if it meant he could hear it everyday.

“It’s okay honey, you can close your eyes,” he hears you coo, can picture the way Goose is sleepily blinking, struggling to keep his head off the pillow.

“He’s dropping off again, Roo, say goodnight while he can hear you.”

“Goodnight buddy, I love you so much.”

“Love you too, daddy.”

You talk for only a short while longer, before you too head to sleep, and Bradley finds himself grinning up at his ceiling, his heart thumping rapidly, excitement building in his chest as he mentally begins to count down the days until he has you both in his arms once more.

#tgm: rooster fic #fic recs #daggers reblog challenge #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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lulunothulu · 3 months ago

Text

“Migraine Induced”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: You have a migraine and Jake’s the one who caused and clocked it.

Content: good ole Hangman charm, migraines, FLUFF

Your call-sign: Sparrow (yes I know it’s been used before but not the same universe lol)

“Sparrow!”

You wince at Hangman’s loud and obnoxious voice. You’d had a migraine for the past few hours and his loud, southern drawl wasn’t helping.

“Sparrow!” He calls again. You pinch the bridge of your nose before turning around.

“What?” You ask harshly.

“You joinin’ us tonight?” He asks, winking at you.

As much as you’d like to react to him winking at you (and god did you want to) you furrow your brows, placing pressure on your right eye before shaking your head. “I’m sorry, where?”

“Hard Deck,” Rooster says, walking toward the two of you. “We asked you about it yesterday?”

Oh fuck.

“Yeah,” you start, “I think imma have to sit this one out.”

“C’Mon,” Phoenix joins in, playfully elbowing you. “Don’t leave me here with all these boys.”

“We’re men,” Coyote corrects.

“Whatever,” Phoenix laughs. She turns to you, expectantly waiting for your response.

“Um,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut to then open them again. “Sure.”

———

Later after work, you and Phoenix are playing pool and about a beer or two into drinking. You thought it would help but of course…it didn’t. Your migraine still hadn’t passed and you were starting to squint, trying to keep the light out. So you asked Bob to get you a water, thinking that would help.

Of course the one day you need an ibuprofen, you leave it at home.

“You okay?” Bob asks from the stool he frequents.

“Never better Bobby boy.” You flash him a tight smile before groaning when Hangman approaches you and Phoenix.

“Ladies,” he says loudly. If the music in the bar was loud, Hangman made sure to be louder. “What’re we drinking?”

“I’m having beer, Sparrow’s drinking water,” Phoenix tells him.

Hangman turns his gaze to you, green eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before. Was that worry? And why did that do something to you?

“Is that so?” He asks, flashing you his famous cocky smile and shedding whatever possessed him before.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to drink,” you tell him.

“Let’s change that.” Before you can begin to resist, Hangman turned to the rest of the Dagger Squad before yelling, “Let’s play a little game called ‘List Five Things’.”

Around you, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Coyote gather around in a circle. Bob, Payback, and Fanboy decided to sit this game out and are acting as the judges.

You knew the game well—list five things for whatever someone chooses. The twist to it is you have to remember what the person before you said that way, you can not only repeat what they had said—but also add on. If you end up forgetting, you have to take a shot.

“Coyote,” Hangman calls. “Start us off.”

“List five things a woman would say to you on a first date,” Coyote smiles.

“You’re handsome,” Hangman smirks across from you, winking in your direction.

“You’re handsome, you look nice,” Rooster adds.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile,” Phoenix adds.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile, yoi have something in your teeth,” you add, a fake smile directed toward Hangman.

“You’re handsome, you look nice, you have a pretty smile, you have something in your teeth, and your dance moves are killer,” Coyote ends it.

This goes on for a while, only you and Jake drinking five shots compared to everyone else’s seven to eight. You were all pretty plastered and you knew your migraine would be ten times worse tomorrow.

“Sparrow, my dear,” Hangman smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “You’re up.”

“Name five things you can say in bed,” you randomly blurt.

“That’s tight,” Coyote laughs.

“Thats tight, where are my clothes?” Hangman smiles.

“That’s tight, where’s my clothes?, can I taste?” Rooster adds, wiggling his brows at Coyote making him howl in a laugh while simultaneously making you flinch at the loudness.

Across from you, Hangman’s brows furrow.

“That’s tight, where’s my clothes?, can I taste?…”Phoenix thinks before shouting very loudly in your ear, “GOT PROTECTION?!”

“Fuck!” You yell, grabbing your right eye and shutting both in pain.

“You lose, Y/N!” Everyone yells.

Well, everyone but Hangman.

No, he’s watching you with the same worried expression on his face. But instead of hiding it like he did before, he makes a point to walk up to you and tilt you head back for you look up at him.

“Let’s go outside,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you start.

“Now.”

You obey, hearing the others whoop and whistle behind you. You allow him to walk you out to the beach before sitting you down in the warm sand.

“What’s going on? You’ve been a lot more irritable today and that says a lot because normally loud noises wouldn’t bother you.” He’s squatting before you, practically begging you to rip his vocal cords out by how loud he’s talking.

“Just for once, can you please talk quieter?” You scold. “It’s bad enough you’re already loud, just…dial it down.”

He silently watches you, at least you assume because you’ve already closed your eyes again. Even though you’re fairly far away from the bar, you can still feel the pulsing in your eye every time someone inside yells.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Sometimes I get over-excited and can’t help myself.”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. Hangman had never apologized to you or anyone for anything. Not even when he almost got into a fight with Rooster that one time. Or that other time he ran into you as you ran during PT.

You squint to look at him. He’s breathtaking. The moonlight lights his handsome face and makes his green eyes look almost aquamarine. His golden skin practically glows, his hair along with it.

You were caught off guard by those thoughts. Why are feelings suddenly manifesting for him? And why do you like how it feels deep in your stomach?

“Are you seriously apologizing?” You ask.

“Don’t get used to it, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you before grunting and joining you in the sand.

You sit in comfortable silence, taking in the crashing of the waves ahead and the beautiful night sky.

“I have a migraine,” you finally tell him. Looking up at the barely starred sky. “I’ve had one since,” you look at your watch and it reads 2:35 AM. “4:15 PM yesterday.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to drink,” he states. “You didn’t want to have to nurse that and a hangover.”

“Yup,” you say, lips popping on the ‘p’.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he tells you.

You snort. “How?”

“Let’s go for a dip,” he smiles.

“Now how the hell is that gonna help?” You frown. “I’m not skinny dipping with you.”

“As much as I know you’d love that, no. The water’s cool.”

“Okay?” You reply, still frowning and ignoring the comment.

“The cool water to your feet will help minimize the pain in that thick ass head of yours,” he says, standing and offering you his hands.

“I do not have a thick head,” you mutter, taking his rough hands. “That’s all you, Bagman.”

“I’m just here helping you out of the goodness of my heart and you want to insult me?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand after you both remove your shoes.

In fact, he holds it even when you both start splashing in the water and again when you decide to walk down the beach, shoes in his other hand.

He stops you in your tracks when you both return to Hard Deck. You’re standing on the back deck of the bar and looking in on your colleagues and friends laughing up a storm.

“What?” You ask, a small smile creeping on your lips.

“Did the water help?” He asks, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

You smile up at him, you never realized how much taller he was than you. Maybe a head taller? And god, he smelled so good.

“Yes, it helped a lot actually,” you tell him. “Thank you, Jake.”

“I like how your voice sounds with my name on your lips ,” he flirts.

“Are you flirting with me Seresin?” You grin.

“God, even my last band sounds good,” he rolls his eyes in pleasure.

You laugh, going on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “Fuck off, Bagman.”

You make to turn away but he catches your wrist and spins you around so fast, you feel like falling. Only, he catches you before planting his lips on yours.

It’s like a scene from a cheesy rom-com you and Phoenix watch. You used to think it was funny but now actually living it? You loved it.

Jake pulls away, panting before giving you the biggest smile. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Have you?” You ask.

He nods. Then, pulling you up and in his arms, he asks, “So did this help ease the migraine aftermath?”

You smile, reaching up to pull him in for another kiss.

“Definitely. But I think a date would settle it once and for all.”

Before he even has time to answer, you’re pushing him away softly and swaying your hips to walk into the bar.

“Fuck, I think I’m in love,” he mutters to himself.

I kinda wanna write a part two…. Their date maybe and her realizing she really likes him? Let me know 💗💗

#glen powell #fanfic #jake hangman fic #glen powell x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw

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frost-queen · 5 months ago

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Dogfights (Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin)

Requested by: anon , Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex–awesome–22 , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers , @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly ,@denkisclown , @wildieflower ,@meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07 , @melsunshine @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury ,@imagines-by-her,@evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Summary: Reader hates Hangman cause he's an asshole. Hangman can't stop teasing you about it. When he sees you flirt with another he jumps in, acting all jealous and possesive. Dragging you to a secluded area, he asks just how much you hate him before kissing you. Shocking your crew when you start dating.

Your F16 shot past Phoenix and Bob one’s. Breathing loud in the mask as you turned the handle. Your F16 doing a turn, hanging vertical up in the air. – “Wow slow down there Y/n.” – Phoenix called out over the intercom. – “Back.” – Bob shouted loud seeing another F16 behind him. Phoenix pulled up as the F16 went nose up. She let it tip till it faced forwards once more. Confused she looked at the F16 that had simply flew forwards.

Ignoring them in the dogfight. – “What are you doing?” – Phoenix whispered. You groaned loud making your F16 twirl in the air. The F16 on your tail, not easy to loose. – “Cut it out Bagman!” – you shouted over the intercom. You heard him chuckle. – “I’m coming for you.” – he laughed out. He sped up ignoring Coyote’s F16 that he could’ve easily played out of the game.

Turning and tumbling, you tried to get your F16 behind Hangman’s. – “Not interested in more snacks?” – Phoenix teased over the intercom. Hangman only seemed to have eyes for you. Making it his goal to cut you out of the game. Everything else not caring for. – “Nope, just the big meal.” – he replied over the intercom with a smile.

He was tailing you. Following your F16’s movement smoothly. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he flipped the protecter up. Giving him a clear to press the button. The scanner on his screen tracking you mindlessly till it found a lock on you. –“Gotcha.” – he said pressing the button. There were some beeps as he cheered loud. – “You’re out of the game Scout.” – he shouted loud in victory.

You turned round to fly beside him. Hangman saluted you as you held your hand up, flipping it over to stuck your middle finger up to him. Hangman laughed more. – “God I love winning from you Scout.” – he said with ease, getting all comfortable in his seat. You brought your F16 down to the landing track.

Rooster came running up to you as you got out of the F16. – “God I hate him.” – you muttered out. Rooster joined your side, swinging his arm around your shoulder. – “3 minutes Scout. You managed to get him off your back for 3 minutes. That’s 20 seconds longer than last time.” – Rooster spoke as you laughed mockingly at him.

“Every damn dogfight!” – you groaned out. – “He always singles me out.” – you finished with frustration. Every dogfight Hangman always came chasing after you to get you out of the game. In the beginning it took him about 30 seconds to do so. Over the courses, you had figured he’d only come after you so you adapted. Learning how to stay out of his sight that little longer.

Today it seemed to be 3 minutes. 3 minutes he had been chasing you around before kicking you out of the game. Why? No one had a clue. Perhaps cause he was just an asshole. Rooster pushed you closer to him. – “I’ll buy you drinks when this is over.” – he said. – “You better.” – you answered nudging him in the side.

Rooster chuckled leading you back to the others. Maverick patted you on the back once you joined the others. With a deep sigh, you sat down. Listening in on the intercom of Hangman and Phoenix still up in the air. After another 2 minutes or so. It was over.

Hangman walked in all smug. Phoenix shooting him a glare as Bob walked quietly behind her. You were all dismissed as you and Phoenix walked to the changing rooms. Holding your fresh shirt in your hands, you had the need to groan loud in frustration. – “Every single time.” – you called out catching Phoenix’s attention. – “I hate it.” – you added. – “I know.” – Phoenix said dramatically noticing a figure appear in the door opening.

“Isn’t that sweet.” – Hangman came leaning against the door, arms crossed. – “You’re getting all worked up over me.” – he teased with a pestering smile. Giving him a glare, you threw your shirt at his face. He dodged it as it landed in the hallway. Jake chuckling teasingly taking a run for it. You rolled your eyes, getting to the hallway to retrieve your shirt.

You finished getting dressed, slamming your locker shut. You drove with Phoenix to the bar, meeting up with everyone else. Most of the boys were already there. You waved Phoenix goodbye, coming up to the bar. You held two fingers up to Penny as she already knew the order.

On the other side of the bar appeared Hangman. – “I’ll have four more on the old timer.” – he said, leaning with his elbow on the bar. Penny quirked her eyebrow up. – “Oh, I meant Y/n.” – he enlightened Penny with a slight point at you. – “Don’t you ever grow tired of your lame jokes?” – you asked him. – “Nope.” – he responded all quirky. – “Certainly not when I can make you blush like that.” – he said.

Immediately you pressed your hand against your cheek, feeling if you had warmed up. Feeling if you were flushed without you knowing. Jake laughed loud from your reaction. He had lied, but it was fun to see you actually believe it. Penny sat down the beers in front of Hangman. – “Next time it’s your turn.” – she warned him.

Hangman clicked his tongue with a wink at you. Penny turned to your side of the bar. Giving you a sympathetic smile whilst giving you the drinks. You took them, going around the bar to your company. Phoenix sat in one of the booths with Fanboy and Rooster. You set her drink down, scooting in at Rooster’s side.

“He still bothering you.” – Rooster asked, swooping an arm over you. Your gaze flashed towards Hangman by the pool table. He looked back at you with a smile, tapping the pool stick gently on the ground. – “He just thinks he’s interesting.” – you told them, making them all laugh. – “Enough about Bagman. I want to enjoy this night.” – you said leaning closer to the table. – “Cheers to that.” – Phoenix said holding her drink up.

You raised your drink as well letting it touch with hers. The four of you chatted and laughed. Having so much fun it showed. It caught Hangman’s attention from time to time. A few more hours in and drinks away, you got up for another order. Exhaling loud you made your way over to Penny’s bar. Leaning a bit on the counter, waiting for her as she had gone to the back for some refills.

From across the bar, your eyes met up with a boy. He wore his uniform as you figured he was on a different program. He smiled at you, making you smile shyly back. He couldn’t seem to get his attention away from you. Penny returned, blocking his view as you saw him try to look past her to catch you.

It made you chuckle teasingly finding it cute. The man ordered as he then gestured at you. – “I’m buying her drinks too.” – he said. – “That’s be five more drinks on your behalf.” – you told him, letting him know he wasn’t just buying for one drink. – “Sure.” – he responded with a sweet smile. Penny didn’t interfered getting the drinks. The man patted the bar before going around and joining your side.

“So you’re a Top gunner.” – he remarked observing your uniform. You turned more towards him, observing his uniform. It had a dark blue shade. – “You’re an upper-sider.” – you acknowledged. – “That I am ma’am.” – he said making you laugh. Penny was setting the drink on the counter as you only seemed to have eyes for each other. The guy picked up a drink, handing one to you. He took one for himself, letting your drinks touch. – “Cheers to you sugar.” – he said. You leaned a bit closer, chatting with him. You remained by the bar as your friends were still waiting for their drinks.

Hangman’s gaze fell on you by the bar. Seeing another man with you. His eyes widened brief before they narrowed to a glare. – “Hangman… Hangman… Jake.” – Coyote said to get his attention. Coyote patted Jake against his shoulder. – “It’s your turn man.” – he said surprised when Jake pushed his pool stick into his hands. He made his way over to the bar, ready to break whatever was going on apart.

Jake moved himself in front of you, blocking your way from him. The guy looked surprised at the sudden appearance of him. Jake eyed him up and down. – “What do you think you are doing?” – he asked rudely. – “I…I’m just talking to her.” – the guy answered. Jake scoffed with a put up smile. – “Jake.” – you shout-whispered behind him, nudging his back with your fist to make him cut it out.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t gave you permission to talk to her.” – Jake answered. – “Jake.” – you repeated giving him another nudge to stop embarrassing you. – “I didn’t know I needed permission.” – the guy answered, not backing down. Jake gave him a taunting smile to mock him. – “Jake please.” – you begged for him to stop being such an idiot.

“I’ve got a fun idea.” – Jake said giving the guy a little shove by his shoulder. – “Why don’t you back off.” – he called out. – “Jake!” – you called out loud, already feeling embarrassed enough as all your friends were watching. – “What are you her boyfriend or something?” – the guy asked loud. You hated it and wanted to escape so you started to leave. Before you even set two steps, you were held back by Jake grabbing your wrist, keeping you by his side.

His grip firm around your wrist. The hatred in his eyes clear. Jake bumped hard with his shoulder against him, whilst dragging you along. You looked back over your shoulder to Phoenix, not sure what was happening. Phoenix could only stare speechless back at you. Jake dragged you over to where the toilets were. Secluded and away from everyone else. He let go of you by the window.

“What the hell Hangman!” – you called out. Suddenly startled when Jake moved closer, pressing his hands beside you on the glass, locking you in. – “How much do you hate me?” – he asked, making you widen your eyes in shock. – “What?” – you called out confused. – “Just how much do you hate me Y/n.” – he needed to know. For a moment you thought he was serious till you saw that smirk appear.

“I…I…I don’t know.” – you responded stuttering as you couldn’t utter a word. Not with Hangman leaning in so close to you. You looked away, finding his fixed stare a bit too intense. Hangman removed one hand from against the glass, taking your chin to make you face him. – “How much.” – he whispered eyeing your lips. You parted your lips to speak, not sure what to say. A moment later were his lips on yours.

To your surprise you were kissing him back. Not sure why you were kissing this fool back. His hands touched your lower back, pressing you closer to him as your hands found a way to his neck. Hangman broke the kiss off whilst smirking. – “So how much?” – he asked teasingly making you roll your eyes at him, pushing his face away by his cheek in a playful way.

He grabbed you again, kissing you a second time as he didn’t seem to get enough from it. The two of you returned to the others, collecting the drinks still on the bar to hand them out. Hangman winked at you before returning to Coyote to finish his game.

The next day you were in the hangar with everyone. You sat down with Phoenix and Bob. Maverick chatting with Cyclone as they waited for the last recruits to join them. Hangman, Fanboy and Coyote neared to take a seat. Hangman first went over to you, coming to stand behind your chair. He pressed his hands down on it, lowering his head as he gave you a kiss upside down.

Phoenix’s eyes widened as Bob’s jaw dropped. Even Maverick stared shockingly at the display. Hangman pulled himself back up, seeing all eyes were on him. – “What?” – he called out. You could disappear from embarrassment. Hangman nudged Bob against his arm to get up, making way for him. Bob got up still staring as Hangman came sitting down in his seat.

"Please begin.” – Hangman told Maverick. Bob quickly took a seat behind Phoenix as Maverick cleared his throat. He moved up to the front, beginning his lecture. It was hard to get everyone’s attention as no one had thought the two of you would start dating. Coming as a total surprise to them.

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