#bradley overhearing conversations not meant for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junkdrawerfics · 2 years ago

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Promise Kept (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)

This is an abo fic so if you don’t like don’t read! (no spice)

Summary: Reader is an omega aviator who has fought tooth and nail to be where she is. She never gave alphas the time of day, until Bradley Bradshaw walked into her life. Even then, she can’t bring herself to let him all the way in, until one night, after a fight with Hangman leaves her with too many doubts to ignore.

Warnings: none really, it gets a little saucy, but doesn’t go past some intense-ish making out. Some internalized prejudice.

word count: 6036 (ended up being kind of a slow burn)

Society had come a long way with how omegas were treated. No longer considered second class citizens, or fragile glass creatures in need of protection, they were treated just like everyone else practically everywhere. Practically.

As always, nothing is perfect. Some people still hold to their prejudice, much like how some women still face sexism, regardless of their secondary gender. For some reason, you just weren’t expecting to come face to face with it in the Navy. Perhaps you should have.

Being an omega, and a woman, meant you had to fight tooth and nail for every sliver of perception you could. In the academy, that meant studying every night and giving up all aspects of a social life to be at the top of the class. It meant long nights spent at the gym after studying, beating your body into a muscular shape, which was no simple task. No one ever told you how difficult it would be to keep your physique as an omega, something about your body being adapted to be softer, rounder, more protective. The odds never phased you, though. You wouldn’t have joined the Navy if they did.

And it worked. You bested everyone academically, and stood your ground in training against the alphas and betas. You weren’t the first omega to pass through the academy, but they all acted like you were, which only stoked the fire in you more, a fire that had been in you since you were young. Always push back. Don’t step down for anyone. Prove that you deserve to be there. Prove them wrong.

When you joined the Navy as an aviator, you started on your suppressants and never let up on your training. Even at that point, when everyone said you’d made it, when your parents urged you to take it slow, go out, meet people (‘an alpha’ was barely hidden in their tone), you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. You were going to prove to the world if you had to that omegas deserved to be treated with just as much respect as alphas, and you’d fight anyone if they thought otherwise.

Hence how you end up almost killing a certain frenemy of yours. Several times.

“Hangman, if you don’t shut your trap, I’m going to shave your head in your sleep,” you snap, teeth grinding as you glare up at the taller aviator.

“Ooooh, the omega has claws.” He gives you that annoying smirk, the one that makes you want to smack him over the head with a pool stick.

That would break it though. You don’t want to put Penny out like that, so you stick to a scathing growl. Placing the stick down on the table, you notice your other friends take wary steps back as you come to stand toe to toe with the prick of a blond. Good. You wouldn’t want anyone else getting into this right now.

“Do you want to go, Bagman? See just how sharp these claws are?”

He scoffs, “We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we, Widow?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your eyes narrow.

“Look, darlin’-” The word makes your brow twitch. “-it’s just a simple fact that alphas are stronger than omegas. I’m just saying you’re no exception.”

“I could put you on the ground in less than a minute,” you growl, anger digging into your chest like a hot iron.

“Oh please, if you weren’t on suppressants, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.”

A low murmur spreads through your group, even amongst the standers-by who overhear your argument. Your jaw clicks with how hard you clench your teeth together, a dull pain thrumming up to your temple. Slowly, you tilt your chin up and square your shoulders, every aspect of your posture screaming of a dominance you shouldn’t possess, a dominance you’ve taken by force. Hangman’s gaze turns wary at the challenge.

“Oh, he’s done it now,” Phoenix murmurs, eyes dancing with barely contained amusement.

“I wouldn’t want you even if you were the last alpha on the planet,” you murmur, voice like a storm brewing out over the ocean, “You should just admit that you can’t beat me in a fight instead of resorting to being such a douchebag. It would look better.”

“You know what I think? I think it’d look better if yo-”

“Watch your mouth, Hangman.”

You bite down on a flare of frustration when a solid body steps between the two of you. Your eyes travel up, trailing over muscular arms, across broad shoulders, up to a mop of dark curls crowned by a pair of aviators and you stiffen.

Rooster.

You reluctantly take a step back, watching the two alphas glare at each other. The look in Rooster’s eyes sends your pulse racing. They burn with something fiercely protective, something utterly dark that curls low in your abdomen. Usually you’d butt back in, because you don’t need rescuing. You don’t need an alpha to protect you, nor do you want one.

But it’s always been different with Rooster, as much as you don’t want to admit it. When he comes to your defense, a deep neglected feeling crawls up your throat and practically chokes you. You’ve tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore how nice he smells, all leather and mahogany and clean linen. How his touch feels like warmth and ice and electricity all at once. Or how he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars when you win in combat, smile dripping with pride and something you don’t dare put a finger on. You can’t. You can’t, because if you do, you’re terrified that feeling will drown you, and you’ll turn into exactly the thing you don’t want to be.

So you settle for stepping back to watch, desperately clinging to the anger still simmering in your veins. Desperate to ignore the prominent veins tracing the alpha’s taut arms and the attractive edge of his clenched jaw.

He’s just an alpha. An alpha like any other. Even if he treats you like an equal. Even if he’s never been anything except respectful to you.

“What, Bradshaw? As if you don’t think the same thing?” A taunting smile returns to Hangman’s lips. “I’m just playing the part, but we all see the way you look at our favorite omega.”

Those words make you stiffen. Eyes wide, you glance up at Rooster, whose ears are tinging pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, a warning in his tone.

“Oh really?” The blond presses, far too entertained by the reactions he’s garnering. His eyes slide to you again, and for once, you feel unsettled by the mischief you find there. “Have you noticed, (L/n)? Because I sure don’t feel like I’m imagining it.”

You don’t know how to respond. It’s like the words have tangled on your lips, like they’re anchored there, too heavy to spit out, too terrifying to face. And you hate just how weak that makes you feel.

“Just drop it, Hangman,” Rooster growls. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Fine.” Jake raises his hands, that idiotic smirk still curling his lips as he takes a mock step back. “You really need to lighten up, Bradshaw. Wouldn’t want someone getting the wrong idea, since you don’t want her apparently.”

That statement settles in your gut like a rock, especially when Bradley just clenches his jaw again and doesn’t say a word.

Leave it to Hangman to stir the pot, or to set the heat until things boil over in this case. You want to throttle him, maybe deprive him of the ability to have kids, but you are far too aware of all the eyes on you, both your friends and the various strangers populating the bar. It makes you want to disappear, or yell, but neither are really an option right now.

Running away means you’re a coward, a weak little omega who can’t stand up to some bullying.

Yelling would just make you look crazy.

So once again you’re forced to settle. You drop into the seat next to Phoenix, watching Rooster take a deep, slow breath before he storms off to the bar, for a drink you presume. It seems most evenings with Hangman require some form of alcohol to make it through. Too bad you were a designated tonight, or you’d be joining him.

“You okay?” Bob, sweet beta he is, gives you the softest concerned look from across the table.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Nights like these make me deeply question why I’m friends with that knot-head though.”

“Who else would you argue with if he weren’t around?” Phoenix laughs into her drink.

You don’t say anything in reply. Part of you wants to say that you don’t love arguing. It frustrates you more than anything, how the blond knows how to get such strong reactions from you. And it’s even worse that he always seems to do it around Rooster, which leads to moments like this, where you can’t control the ache in your heart that clashes with the fire in your veins, leaving you to burn in your own uncertainty.

The rest of the night goes on peacefully, which is likely due to the uptake of alcohol. Despite telling yourself it’s a bad idea, you can’t help but keep an eye on Rooster. The man appears to sulk a few tables over, not paying much attention to the conversation Fanboy and Pay Back keep trying to draw him into. Worry burrows deep into your chest when he switches from nursing a beer to a glass of whiskey, dark eyes lost in thought.

You wish you knew what he was thinking. You wish you could walk right over there and ask him. Pretend the evening never happened. But that uncertainty clings to you like a tick, small and irritating and impossible to tear out.

He’s an alpha.

But he’s also your best friend.

Everythings has always been different with Rooster. At first, you’d hated him. He was just another opponent, another obstacle you had to overcome to be the best. You used to bicker, much like Hangman, but he never once brought up your secondary gender. He respected you, despite all your back and forth. He treated you like an equal, something you had only experienced with Phoenix.

Then, one day, you crashed. It was an accident, an error with the plane. Apparently something was missed in the inspection before you went up. You ended up in the hospital for a few days, and when you woke up, there he was. Sitting at your bedside, somehow asleep while looking horribly uncomfortable in one of those stiff hospital chairs.

Things shifted after that.

That day you saw a new side to the aviator. He was softer, charismatic smirk replaced with the most genuine smile when he realized you were awake. It gave you pause back then. Made you doubt everything you thought about alphas. From then on, you spent most of your time together, and your arguments turned to playful banter, which turned into late night talks, which turned into phone calls when your deployment took you to different places.

It all went so fast, leaving you grasping at straws when you first noticed how your heart skips a beat when he gives you one of those soft, lopsided smiles.

But he’s an alpha.

And you still can’t face the idea of being a typical, lovestruck omega, not after an entire lifetime and trying to be anything but. What would everyone think of you? What if you fell behind? The doubt is crippling, to say the least.

So you stay at your table, nursing your own cup of lemonade, distractedly adding to a conversation with Phoenix and Bob while watching the alpha down drink after drink. Eventually he starts smiling again, laughing just a little too loud like he usually does when he’s drank too much.

“Wanna play a round, Widow?” You glance over at Hangman, who holds out a pool stick to you. A peace offering perhaps. Some of the tension leaks from your shoulders.

“No thanks, Bagman, not really in the mood to play,” you hum, though you give him the faintest smile to make sure he knows the two of you are good. He nods, too white smile on his lips as he tosses the stick to Coyote instead.

When you look back to Rooster, you freeze. He’s looking at you, for the first time since the stand-off. His eyes, such a peculiar shade of hazel and brown, are glazed over, but they burn with an intensity that makes your breath get lost somewhere in your lungs. Smile gone, it’s replaced with a look you are far too familiar with. It’s the look he gets whenever he’s trying to figure something out, how to attack, how to win, how to succeed at a certain maneuver. But it’s solely focused on you.

You meet his eyes, one brow raising in challenge. Not a single sign of submission. A soft glint sparks in his gaze, something dark and fond, as a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. You don’t back down, even as his eyes trail down, lingering for a heated second on your lips, before trailing over the exposed length of your neck and collarbone. Subconsciously, your shoulders draw up, and your eyes narrow into a glare. Rooster leans back in his seat, eyes sparkling as they trail back to meet yours. Too dark. Too warm. Too hungry.

You break away, heart suddenly in your throat. And you’re shaking. You tuck your fingers between your thighs, desperate to hide the slight tremor. You can still feel his gaze, feel it warming your skin to the point of setting a fire. For the first time in what feels like forever, a blush spreads up your neck and across your cheeks. A low chuckle sounds from a few tables down.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you grumble under your breath.

“Who?” Phoenix asks, though the smirk on her face gives away that she knows.

“Rooster,” You tell her anyway.

“Oh please, you love him. He could wreck your car and you’d still ruffle his hair like you do and forgive him,” she laughs, and Bob nods along. “He loves that by the way.”

“Huh?”

“The two of you are very oblivious,” Bob adds, which is like a punch in the gut coming from the beta.

“What do you mean?” You look between your two friends, frustration building when they merely share a look and laugh.

“Nothing, Widow. Just might be some time for a heart to heart with ‘Roo’.” She puts the nickname in air quotes, because it’s what you notoriously call him. No one else can get away with it, lest Bradshaw bite their heads off. He lets you though, and they’ve all seen the fond smile it brings to his lips. It’s so painfully obvious, to everyone except you and him apparently.

You’re about to bite back, maybe something about her and Hangman, but the sound of a sharp shuffle draws your attention away. Rooster is jostling out of his seat, slurring something about another round, but he can barely keep himself upright. With a sigh, you slip from your booth, heading towards the idiot.

“Case in point!”

You send Phoenix a glare over your shoulder, but it turns to something fond when she gives you a cheesy thumbs up, eyebrow wiggling. They’re all idiots, you decide.

You make it to Rooster’s side just in time, as he practically trips over his own feet.

“Woah, buddy,” you laugh, catching him around the middle. You can feel the heat of his body, even through his Hawaiian shirt. Rooster has always run so warm. “I think it’s time to get you home.”

A cacophony of protests sound from the rest of the table, but Bradley just looks down at you with a doe-eyed smile. You stomp down the fondness curling in your stomach, and instead draw his arm over your shoulder and curl an arm tight around his waist.

“I’m taking this dufus home. Try not to die while I’m gone!” You call, receiving a mixture of laughter and catcalls (Hangman of course), which you ignore.

Now, moving a 6’2” alpha is no easy task. Not when it’s Rooster, who can barely keep a foot under him when he’s tipsy and is only coordinated when he plays the piano. Usually, on nights like this, the main struggle is getting him to stop laughing long enough to get his feet to move, but tonight, he’s suspiciously quiet as you lead him out to your car. You can still feel his eyes on you, but this time you’re too scared to meet them. You don’t want to know what he’s thinking now. You don’t want to think about the fact that you’re alone with him now. An alpha. A drunk alpha at that. Even if he is your best friend.

The cold, night air helps to ease the warmth dancing under your skin. It seems to help Rooster sober up just a little too, as he fumbles his way into your passenger seat. You reach across him, intent on buckling the idiot up, but freeze when his fingers curl around your wrist.

Slowly, so slowly, you lean back to look at him, ready to bite, knock him out if you need to, but Bradley just smiles. It’s one of those soft, genuine ones, brimming in his eyes, boyishly lopsided. And you melt. You buckle him up and take a moment to ruffle a hand through his soft curls, drawing a content hum from the dirty blond. He just keeps looking at you, all smiley, eyes half-lidded.

“What am I gonna do with you, Roo?” You sigh.

“Kiss me?”

A shocked laugh parts your lips at the earnest suggestion. This finally gets Rooster to frown, though it looks more like a pout, which makes you giggle more. Leave it to Bradley to always be unexpected.

“Maybe when you’re sober, Roo,” you tease, and this seems to bring back his grin.

“‘m holdin’ you to that.”

You snort, knowing he probably won’t even remember this conversation in the morning, though a small part of you hopes he will. A small part you chastise as you close his door and move to the driver’s seat.

The drive is surprisingly quiet, until the sound of Rooster’s soft snores fill the car. A fond smile captures your lips. Looks like you had the perfect timing. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer at the bar. When you reach his apartment, you take a moment to just look at Rooster. His brow, usually knotted together for some reason or another, is smooth in his sleep, making him look younger, softer. His hair is a little mussed from when you ruffled it, a few strands falling over his forehead, tempting you to brush them back.

He really is handsome, you think. You don’t often let yourself entertain it, but Bradley really is something. Tall, muscular, with a defined jaw and a confidence to match. He’s an ideal alpha. Yet, that’s not what you find yourself drawn to. No, it’s those moments in the air when he calls on you to make the decision. It’s all the times he invites you over for a drink and just listens. It’s everything else about him that drives you crazy. He’s the perfect alpha.

You wonder if he’d ever pick you, as his omega.

And then, immediately, you shove that thought down and jump out of the car. Bradley jumps awake when you slam the door, eyes blearily tracking you as you make it to him and unbuckle him.

“Come on, big man, time to get you to bed,” you huff as you drag him up.

“You’re so strong,” Rooster mumbles, the look on his face just short of adoration.

Your face flushes, “Strong enough to drag you around. Better keep that in mind the next time you try to pick a fight with me.”

A moment of silence.

And then - “’m not Bagman.”

You stop, casting the alpha a curious glance. You hadn’t been insinuating that, but suddenly he looks too serious, brows furrowed, mouth set in a firm line.

“I know you’re not, Roo,” you murmur gently.

“I don’t like how he talks to you.” He frowns, now facing you completely.

“Yah? How so?” You slowly redirect him to the door.

“Don’t like how ‘e treats you like some ‘mega. You’re an omega, but he, he-” He practically growls, and your shoulders tense. “He’s no manners. I should knock some ‘nto him.”

You loosen when you realize the root of his anger. He doesn’t like that Hangman blatantly disrespects you as an omega. You were expecting it to be some protective alpha thing, since the two of you are so close, and it is to some degree you’re sure, but it lifts a little of your unease knowing that this is partially his chivalry thing. He once told you it’s how his mother raised him, since she was an omega and his father had passed away. His only other real influence was Maverick, who happens to be a beta.

“Well, I bet if we messed his face up a bit, he wouldn’t be so rude,” you hum, laughing softly when Bradley nods aggressively.

You prop the alpha against the wall and fish his keys from his pocket, shuffling nervously when he goes quiet, heavy gaze falling down on you again. If only he weren’t a good head taller than you, then maybe it would be easier to face that look.

Instead, you swiftly step into his small apartment, busying yourself with grabbing a cup of water for him and a couple aspirin for when he wakes up the next morning. He watches from the doorway, only moving in when you tell him to go change.

And boy do you regret that when you slip into his room. You were intending to just check on him one last time, make sure he didn’t slip and die whilst changing, but you instead come face to face with a notably shirtless Rooster.

“Ah, I was just um, I just-” You gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Rooster shirtless, but this is different. This isn’t on the beach, when he’s covered in sweat and dancing to a victory play in dog fight football. No, this is in the dim light of his room, the soft glow from the kitchen just illuminating the prominent muscles of his abdomen, the smooth planes of his chest, the line of his collarbone, every inch of him tan and glowing and perfect.

When you finally do bring yourself to look away, to look at his face, you’re met with the most wolfish grin.

“Like what you see, Widow?”

Heat flushes through your chest, your breath catching in your throat. A small voice in you screams danger danger danger, but you can’t move as Rooster inches closer. His hands hover over your sides, close enough that you can feel his warmth, but not touching.

And part of you begs him to. Wants him to touch you, grab you, hold you, do whatever he wants. It collides viciously with the relief that swarms you when his hands settle gently on your arms. But then he’s leaning over you, face coming so so close to yours and you can’t breathe again. Your thoughts are swimming, lost to the whirlwind of the homey scent that envelops you.

“I wanna tell you something,” Rooster mumbles, warm breath brushing your face, the faint scent of whiskey not as gross as it should be.

“What is it, Bradley?” Your voice doesn’t quiver. It doesn’t.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he’s completely sober. His eyes are clear and bright, swimming with more emotion than you thought someone could hold. It feels like your heart is pushing through your chest.

“He’s wrong.”

“Who’s wrong?”

He hesitates only a second before the words spill from his lips, “Hangman. He said I don’t want you. He’s wrong.”

The air fizzles between the two of you as you process what he’s saying.

Bradley wants you. Is that what he means? He wants you? In what way? You’re suddenly overflowing with questions, each one dancing on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to ask them. Not now. Not when he’s like this and you can’t even seem to get your head straight. You don’t even know what you want, for Mavericks sake. (haha funny)

“I think you should get some sleep, Roo,” you all but whisper, “We can talk tomorrow.”

“It’s okay-” He draws you close just to press the softest kiss to your temple. It’s so innocent and sweet, you almost melt. “-know you don’t like alphas. Jus’ had to tell ya.”

And your heart breaks. His voice softens with something horribly sad and resigned, like he’s thought about this before, like he’s told it to himself over and over again. Because of you. Because of your stubborn prejudice. You’re no better than all the people you’ve been judging.

“Let’s get you to bed,” you croak, not meeting his eyes as you pull the man deeper into his bedroom.

He flops onto the mattress unceremoniously, immediately grabbing one of your hands when you turn to leave.

“Stay?”

You bite your lip, torn between running, escaping all this mess in your heart that he’s not even aware of, or doing exactly what he asks, because that’s all you want.

All you’ve ever wanted.

“Yah,” you rasp and settle down on the edge of his bed, “I’ll stay Roo, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

“An’ you’ll give me that kiss?” He peaks up at you with one eye, already fighting sleep.

You smile and gently brush your free hand through his curls, “Guess you’ll just have to get some sleep and see.”

Rooster eagerly closes his eyes and buries into his blankets, though that big, dopey grin stays on his lips even as he quickly drifts off. You linger, fingers still petting his hair, until you’re sure he’s asleep. Then, slowly, to not wake him up, you untangle your hand from his and make your way to the door.

Right before you close it, you hear a low, muffled, “Night, (Y/n).”

“Good night, Bradley,” you murmur back and silently shut the door.

You slump against the wood, a long whoosh of air escaping your lips.

How on earth are you supposed to process all of that?

It feels like everything is clicking together and falling apart, all at once.

Rooster wants you. You can still feel the warmth where his lips pressed against your skin. And you can’t really deny how you feel about him, not after all of that. Not only had you brought him home alone, drunk, and stumbled in on him shirtless, but nothing had happened. He never pressed, never made a move besides some flirting which is just so notoriously Rooster. Even drunk, he was more respectful than most people had ever been to you.

You love him.

There’s no other way to describe the deep, aching fondness in your chest.

You trust him, which seems even more important. Bradley would never do anything you wouldn’t want, he would never push himself on you, he would never force you to be something you’re not. Yet, you’ve made him feel like it’s impossible, because of your stupid vendetta against alphas.

The decision is made right then and there.

In the morning, when he’s more sober, you’ll show him just how much you like him and want him as an alpha. There will be no more doubt, no more holding back, no more suppressing every instinct that claws at your chest at the sight of him.

In the morning, he’ll definitely be getting that kiss.

---

When Rooster wakes up, it’s still dark out. A habit from all the early mornings for the job. He groans softly, head pounding like a herd of elephants are traipsing around inside it. He looks around blearily in the dark, barely catching the silhouette of a glass of water on his bed stand and the pills sitting next to it. He downs the painkillers quickly, finding the tiniest bit of relief from the cool water on his throat.

That’s the last time he drinks like that, he thinks, much like every morning he wakes up hungover.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

Wincing, the alpha looks up with narrowed eyes, catching a familiar sight. You’re standing at the end of his bed - how did he miss you coming in? - dressed in a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts. You look significantly better off than how he feels.

“Morning,” he rasps and clears his throat, heat climbing up his neck, “What happened last night?”

“Not much. You proposed to me in a fit of undying love and cried when I said no,” you hum, holding the straightest face you can.

Absolute horror flashes across Rooster’s face, making his eyes go wide as saucers. The blush on his neck climbs all the way across his cheeks, all the way to the tip of his ears. It only lasts for a few seconds before you burst into a fit of giggles, and understanding dawns on him. His features settle into something unimpressed.

“Not funny,” he growls, but the blush still lingering on his face makes it not too threatening.

“You’re just so fun to tease, Roo,” you coo, thoroughly entertained by the glare he sends you. You give his leg a pat, letting your touch linger - Rooster notices, his brow perking inquisitively at you - before you tuck your hands between your legs and your tone turns more serious, “Last night was fine. You just drank too much so I brought you home.”

“I didn’t do anything?”

“Weeeell…”

“(Y/n)?” His voice holds something uncertain in it, which is out of character for the aviator, and makes you soften.

You hold his gaze for a serious moment, biting your lip as you think through the words you’ve rehearsed over and over in your head. It’s not helping, not with the nerves swirling in your chest. You barely slept last night thinking about this moment.

“You were mad about what Hangman said at the bar last night,” you murmur slowly, to which he nods. That he remembers. “You wanted to make sure I knew he was wrong. You um, you said you want me?”

Bradley freezes. He looks down at his hands, fingers flexing and unflexing as he traces back the events of the night. It’s all blurry, but he does remember being close to you. Kissing you. He winces. That is not how he wanted that to go. But all the best pilots know that once you make a move, there’s no taking it back, so the best route is to just keep going…he hopes.

“And if that’s true?” He asks, bringing those dark eyes up to meet yours. They burn with the same intensity they did last night, making you bite your lips.

“Well, if that’s true…” You take a breath, gathering every ounce of courage left in your body to swing a leg over his, putting you right in his lap. Rooster inhales sharply, instinctively gripping your hips to steady you. His eyes are wide, brewing with something wicked as they stay locked on your face. “I’d have to tell you that I want you too…alpha.”

A low growl rumbles through the aviator’s chest and his fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, you’re sure. And you love it. The omega in your crumbles when he draws you closer, close enough that your noses practically touch.

“You weren’t drinking last night too, were you darlin?” His voice is deliciously rough, brushing over all your senses, leaving you tingling.

“Nope,” you hum, draping your arms over his shoulders to play with the curls at his neck, “I’m all here, Bradley. This is my decision.”

“And you’re choosing me?”

Instead of saying anything, you take another deep breath to still the nerves boiling away under your skin, and slowly tilt your chin, exposing the expanse of your neck to the alpha. A sign of submission.

Bradley stills, chest practically heaving as he keeps himself from moving. Both of your hearts are pounding, the moment so quiet, so tense, as you look at him from under your lashes. Your eyes swim with uncertainty and a vulnerability he has never seen, and that breaks him from his spell.

“God, I love you.” He buries his face in your neck, breathing in every bit of your scent that he can. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your skin, a low giggle escaping you when he presses his lips to your neck, all gentle and slow and sure, but the brush of his mustache against your skin tickles. “I’ve loved you since that crash, probably since before it. Never thought I had a chance with you, baby girl.”

“Sorry for making you think that, Roo,” you gasp when he nips at your ear.

“Don’t be.” He presses kisses to your jaw, closer and closer to your lips. You wish he’d just hurry up. “This feels more rewarding.”

“What? Knowing you got the stubborn, little omega?” You jest, practically dizzy from all the contact, and from his scent which seems to swallow you. God, you love his scent.

“No.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Knowing you’re choosing me. It’s all you, darlin’. I never stood a chance against you.”

“I don’t think I did either,” you sigh, “Not with that stupid mustache and that face.”

“You like my face?” His eyes twinkle with boyish mirth.

“Shut up and kiss me, lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You can feel the curve of a smirk on his lips when they finally meet yours. And it’s perfect. His lips press gently to yours as his hands trace up your sides to cup your face. Every touch is searing, leaving behind trails of heat that make you whimper softly into the kiss. Bradley growls, the sound deep, low in his chest. He tilts your head, catches your bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a gasp from you. He deepens the kiss, and you’re helpless against it, against him. He kisses you until you’re breathless, until you’re clinging to him and his hands are curled firmly around your waist, drawing you closer, closer, closer. Even when you break away, chest heaving for air, he doesn’t stop, just presses kisses along your neck, tugs the collar of your his shirt aside to drop kisses along your collarbone and shoulder. A shaky sigh escapes your lips, and you can’t help but curl your fingers tightly through his curls. The alpha groans, concentrating on the spot right below your ear that makes you tremble. You whine when he bites the spot, and a low rumble vibrates his chest as he traces his tongue over the stinging skin before he presses one final kiss over it.

Your whole body is like a live wire. You can’t catch your breath, can’t stop the shaking of your hands or the wild pace of your heart. But you feel alive. You feel alive for the first time in forever.

“I love you,” Bradley murmurs again as he presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed as he too tries to catch his breath.

“I love you, too,” you laugh breathlessly, “I can’t believe I’ve made you wait so long.”

“Worth it.” He hits you with that stupid, lopsided grin you love so much.

“Definitely….”

“...alpha.”

Bradley opens his eyes, glaring at you playfully, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, darlin’.”

You peck his lips one last time, teasingly soft, before you jump up from the bed and make your way to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t dream of it! I kept my promise about the kiss, didn’t I?”

A low laugh sounds from the bedroom, and you smile.

Yah, this was the right decision.

Note: This was purely self-indulgent when I wrote it, but I liked it, so I figured I’d post it somewhere. Hope someone else likes it!

#top gun #top gun maverick #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #reader #reader insert #x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #abo #abo dynamics #alpha Bradly bradshaw #alpha rooster #omega reader #don't judge pls

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tgmsunmontue · 8 months ago

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Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (2/5)

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE

“Are our friends hooking up?” Bradley asks, frowning at the message on his phone.

“Who? Javy and Phoenix?”

Interesting. He had meant Natasha and Bob, but it makes sense that maybe Hangman just jumps to assuming his best friend is the one dating Natasha. They’re at the restaurant where Natasha had insisted on meeting, something she had wanted to tell them apparently and now she’s not going to get here until much later, if at all.

“No. Well, yes, But I mean Nat, Bob and Coyote… the three of them.”

“Huh. You know, you may be onto something. They’ve been looking incredibly suspicious every time I walk into the room, springing apart like they’ve been doing or saying something they don’t want me to overhear.”

“Yeah, same. Think we need to let them know we’re okay with the three of them being together?”

“Well, maybe they’re still trying to figure things out?”

“Huh. True. Not yet ready to tell us maybe?”

“Or they’re just having fun and it’s not serious?”

“Not serious? Are we talking about the same people?”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. Maybe they don’t think we’d understand?”

Bradley frowns, because he hopes not. Not that he’s ever been in a polyamorous relationship, if that’s what that three of them are currently figuring out. He gets not wanting other people to meddle or provide a running commentary, but he is a little hurt that she hasn’t mentioned anything to him. He glances at the messages on his phone again.

Received forty minutes ago.

>>Sorry, running late! Be there soon. Go ahead and order without me.

Received twenty minutes ago.

>>Okay – just got a call. Let me see if I can deal with these two without going over there in person.

Received five minutes ago.

>>Sorry but I’ve got to leave you there. Javy and I need to talk with Bob about some stuff. Hopefully get it sorted and maybe still get there for dessert.

He slides it across to Hangman, offering him to read it, because if they’re going to try and figure this out they both need all of the information at hand.

“That is… That has to be the three of them having a serious conversation right? I know Javy hooked up with Phoenix years ago.”

“Really? Because she hooked up with Bob not that long ago.”

“Go Phoenix… I wonder if Javy knows that.”

“Surely right? If the three of them are having a serious conversation? Like, serious enough to not be able to leave it to another time. Leaving us unsupervised. Pretty risky move otherwise…” Bradley says, lips twitching with amusement, because their arguing is nowhere near as antagonistic as it used to be. Now it’s got a far more friendly edge, playful almost and if he didn’t know better he’d say it was sometimes flirty. But that’s just wishful thinking.

He sends a quick message saying that they’re ordering dessert and that he hopes she can sort whatever it is out with Coyote and Bob, and he’s insanely curious, but knows better to ask through a text, because she’ll either outright lie or deflect. He needs to ask her in person where he can watch her micro expressions.

They both can’t decide between the same two desserts before sheepishly realizing that they can share and place their order, the topic of conversation now firmly circling what they think Coyote, Nat and Bob are up to. He convinces Hangman to send a couple of messages to Coyote to do some delicate fishing for information and realizes that they might need to meet up again to discuss their theories. He doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t want to risk the potential rejection even if he’s not got any intention other than friendship. Mostly.

They finish up their desserts, eating off each other’s plates easily enough and he hates how much it feels like a date, how much he wants it to be a date. His phone vibrates with another message from Natasha, saying she’s definitely not going to make it and well, it’s far too late for her to join them anyway. The split the bill and walk towards where they’ve both left their cars.

“Well Rooster, I enjoyed this. We should do it again some time.”

“How about we do lunch in a week or so? Compare notes? See if we can figure them out?”

Something in Hangman’s expression changes but is gone before he can figure it out.

“Sounds good. Have a good night.”

… … …

Javy looks at his phone, a little confused at the stream of messages but able to pick out the general gist of what Jake is trying to say.

“Okay, that was a bust. Well, they didn’t kill each other, but Jake seems to think Rooster is very uninterested in dating him. Are you sure he likes him? He suggested a date and Rooster turned it into work talk apparently… Told you a dinner date was going to be too subtle for our idiots.”

“You said no such thing. Anyway, locking them in a room, either a pretend one,” Natasha says, looking at Bob, “or a real one, isn’t going to work either. They need to fucking talk.”

“They need to uh, fuck, and then talk,” Bob states and Javy concedes that he may have a point. They’re both men of action rather than conversation, although he really thinks they need to use their words. Constructively.

“We can’t force them to talk,” Javy says, rubbing at his face, because they also can’t make them fuck either. He stretches out his neck, the tension from having to deal with Jake being ridiculous starting to get to him. He barely notices as Bob moves behind him and starts massaging his shoulders, just lets his body slump a little.

“I’m sorry, but I totally forced them to just spend three hours together, talking and enjoying a meal together. And if you’re giving out massages I want one please.”

“Sure,” Bob agrees and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Bob say no to her.

“Yeah, you did really well with the dinner thing, but…”

Then there’s a key in his door, it’s opening and Jake is standing there, his face going from sad to surprised and he wonders what sort of picture they make, Phoenix sitting beside him but with Bob behind him massaging his shoulders. God, it’s not like anyone is naked. Jake has seen him in far more embarrassing and compromising situations than talking with two friends, but judging from the look on his face he clearly thinks he’s snapped Javy doing something illicit and he raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Uh… Javy! Hi. Phoenix. Bob. Hmm. I should have known you’d all be here. Sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Ignore me. I was never here.”

“What the hell was that about?”

“I have no idea…”

PART THREE

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Life is too short to waste time matching socks...#Top Gun fanfiction #BobNixJavy

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senseless-writing · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

A/N: Requests are open! I’m always happy to receive them, though I like to preface by saying that I won’t always write them. Not because I don’t want to (I love love love requests), but because I’m the least self motivated person in the whole world. Meaning, if it doesn’t hit me straight in the inspiration-dick, I won’t do it the justice it deserves by writing it.

But don’t let that stop you! I’m always all ears :)

The Witcher

Something New: I II III (Geralt x oc!daughter) - Geralt happens upon a little girl who has been abandoned in the woods on his journey up to Kaer Morhen. With a storm just days away, and the nearest town nowhere in sight, what is he meant to do with her?

A Chance (Geralt x oc!daughter) - Orion has a cold. Or, at least, that’s how it started. But when things take an unexpected turn down a dangerous road, Geralt questions if he really has what it takes to care for a human child.

Mountain Top Confessions (Geralt x oc!daughter) - Taking place in S1.E6, the little girl that Geralt took under his wing all those years ago isn't so little anymore. After overhearing something she wasn't supposed to while he and Yennefer argued about the quest to find the golden dragon, the witcher is forced to have a conversation with Orion that he'd been hoping to push off for as long as possible.

Bucky Barnes

A Faded Picture (Bucky x oc!daughter) - Bucky struggles to recognize himself in this new life, and new role, that he’s been forced to live. (post CATWS)

Top Gun

Unforgiving Anxieties (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x wife!reader) - Rooster has to leave again, which isn’t something new. But this time, he’s leaving his wife with a baby at home, and Y/n isn’t sure if she can handle the stress that comes with parenting all by herself.

Getting Your Wisdom Teeth Removed (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader) - Headcanon

Elvis (2022)

A Life Through Few Words (Austin Butler x reader) - Austin doesn’t enjoy talking about his girlfriend with the media. And if he does, it’s through very little words. Only he gets to truly know those moments that he cherishes so much.

Mary In the Morning (Austin Butler x reader) - Who knew that waking up next to his girlfriend would give Austin the help he needed to better understand the King of rock and roll?

Unprecedented Distractions (Austin Butler x reader) - Austin thought having Y/n with him would make the press interviews more bearable. It hadn’t occurred to him that having her there might lead to some new challenges.

All Over Again (Austin Butler x reader) - It wasn’t Austin’s talent or looks that reminded Priscilla of her husband the most. It was his undeniable adoration for the woman he loved.

A Not-So-Happy Accident (Austin Butler x reader) - Austin gets hurt doing something stupid on set, and Y/n is not happy about it.

This Time Is Different (Austin Butler x wife!reader) - (Possible pt 2. to “All Over Again”) Priscilla had told Lisa Marie about the similarities between their life and that of Austin and Y/n’s. She never thought that she would see it for herself.

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fullmetalscullyy · 6 years ago

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soulmate part 2

part 1

read on ao3 and ffnet

soulmate

Riza gasped, hands flying to her side. Pain pierced her lower abdomen. It was so unbearable she almost blacked out. Her vision greyed at the edges and she felt anguish fill her entire being. The hand she had thrown out to steady herself hit Alphonse’s metal body with a thump. Riza vaguely remembered hearing him gasp at the sudden change in her demeanour. The hand was unable to find any purchase against his armour and slid down towards his legs, finally sliding off. She had been brought to her knees, the phantom pain gripping her in its clutches, incapacitating her and unwilling to let go.

“Lieutenant!” Alphonse called, lowering to a crouch. His hands rested on her shoulders while her head bowed forward. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t reply, only continued to grip her side as a sob escaped her.

Now she knew how Roy felt when he burned her back. This was awful. Why was this happening? What had he done? The pain blocked any coherent thought from forming in her mind. She couldn’t focus on anything else.

Then terror, pure and unadulterated, consumed her very being.

He was dying.

He had been stabbed in the stomach and he was dying.

She had to get to him.

“Lieutenant,” Alphonse urged quietly, giving her shoulders a shake. “Someone is coming!” he whispered fearfully. “You need to stand.”

“I can’t,” Riza gasped as pain continued to flare in her side. No, no, no! Roy!

“You must. You can’t let them know.”

“I need… I need to go to him!”

Alphonse’s eyes met hers and he said nothing. He would be able to see the pain in her eyes. He would be able to sense her urgency because that was what Alphonse Elric did. He was so in tune with the situation around him that he would recognise why Riza needed to leave without her relaying the why.

“You can’t.” His hands tightened on her shoulders once helping her to her feet, like he didn’t trust her not to run away. “They can’t know you are soulmates.” He whispered the last word, as if afraid someone would overhear. “Especially about you two because they will use it against you.”

Riza was struck by his earnest.

“How –” She was cut off by another wave of pain. Roy was wracked with pain somewhere in this complex and she was sitting here snivelling about it. She needed to protect him. That was her job.

“I can read the signs,” Alphonse replied softly.

Before they could go any further with their conversation a woman entered the room.

Riza stiffened. She would protect him from here. If they found out they were soulmates Riza would be court martialled. If she was imprisoned that would be fine but if Bradley saw fit to kill her then Roy would be a shell of his former self, unable to function properly. He wouldn’t be able to make the world a better place.

She would do it for him. She was an expert at hiding her emotions and pretending, after all. She would pretend that her side wasn’t on fire and that she didn’t need to vomit from the pain she felt there while the homunculus droned on. Riza had jumped when Lust skewered Barry the Chopper’s body. Her hands trembled as they gripped her gun tightly. It was becoming too much to focus on the conversation.

Please, Roy. Just hang on. I’m coming!

“Now then, where were we?” Lust asked conversationally, now that Barry was dealt with. “I think I was about to send the Lieutenant to join her superior.”

Join him? Join him where? He was alive. She could feel it, he wasn’t dead. So why?

Then Riza realised… The pain in her side was gone. There was nothing there just… emptiness.

The world around her stuttered to a stop.

“Wait a minute…” The gun in her hands began to shake. Panic welled inside her. No, no, no, no, no! He can’t be dead! He can’t be! “So when you said you’d already had to kill someone…” Riza felt like she might throw up. She screamed for him in her mind, hoping he would be able to reply or... or… something! Riza had never wanted to feel pain more in her entire life. The presence of his pain meant he was alive. “It can’t be. You didn’t!”

Lust’s smirk is what sent her over the edge.

“You bitch!” Riza screamed, pouring every emotion she felt, every bit of pain in her chest into those shots. She howled at Lust, whipping out her third and last gun when the clip ran out of the other two.

Roy couldn’t be dead! He couldn’t be! He promised her! He promised he would never leave her again!

Riza couldn’t even feel satisfaction after each shot because the damn thing wouldn’t die. Tears fell down her face, spent.

“Are you done?” Lust asked pitifully.

She was done.

Roy was gone. Her soulmate was dead. What was the point in living anymore if she would be without him?

That was the true meaning of these bonds. It was not to tie people together to make them happy. It was to remind them that life was cruel and life was unfair. It taught the lesson that although you may love someone with your entire being they can be ripped away from you in an instant.

She didn’t even get to say goodbye. He could have died alone. Where was Havoc? Was he dead too?

Her soulmate was gone from this earth, leaving her behind.

“Such a sad and weak creature. Another typical human.”

“Stand up Lieutenant. You need to get out of here.”

“Do you want me to kill you first?”

Riza barely even registered Alphonse and Lust’s conversation. Her eyes stared at the floor, desperately searching for an answer. Pain had gripped her entire being once more but she barely felt it. She was numb to it all, to the pain in her body, the pain in her heart, and the conversation happening around her. A breeze shifted her bangs, but Riza couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes from the floor. She could only register the fact that Alphonse was still here with her. He needed to leave. He needed to be safe. Alphonse still had purpose, he had so much left to accomplish.

“Listen, Alphonse. Leave me and save yourself.”

“No.” The determination in his voice stirred something within her but she couldn’t grab a hold of it.

“Run!” she begged him. She had already lost one person today. She didn’t need to lose another. If she could sacrifice herself so that boy could live then she would. He was too good to die here. Riza wasn’t. She had murdered innocents and for what? No other reason than to exterminate a whole race of people. Of human beings. She was despicable.

Riza had researched and read what happens when one half of a soulmate dies. She would be useless now anyway.

“I won’t.”

“Go!”

“I won’t leave you! I’m sick of watching people die and I can’t just sit back and take it anymore!” I am as good as gone now anyway, Alphonse. “I won’t let anyone else get killed! Not when I can protect them!”

“Well spoken, I couldn’t agree more.”

Riza gasped. Her head shot up, eyes desperate and searching but all she could see was the wall Alphonse had transmuted. Was he… Was he alive?! Riza didn’t dare believe it. Before she could walk out there and see with her own eyes that Roy Mustang was alive and breathing Alphonse had her wrapped in his arms protectively, shielding her from the flames. She fought him desperately, trying to get to Roy.

She screamed to him over the sound of the flames. She could only hear snippets of their conversation. Lust’s anguished screams and the flames overwhelmed her. Every time Riza moved Alphonse just tightened his grip.

He was alive.

There was a pain in her side again, an agony that felt so sweet and so, so welcome. Riza never enjoyed pain but the fact it was there meant her soulmate wasn’t dead. She had never felt relief like it before. Alphonse only let go when he was sure Lust was gone. Riza pushed out of his hold and ran to his side.

“Are you okay?” she asked when Alphonse left to get help. Her gaze worriedly trailed down his body, settling on the wound on his side that Riza could feel herself. He grimaced in pain and Riza gasped at the same time, both experiencing the same wave of pain crashing through their bodies. “You need help,” she choked, tears starting fresh.

“I’m all right,” he murmured.

Riza’s hand gripped his, the only source of comfort she could give him right now. Roy clasped it tightly, grabbing onto her like she was a lifeline. In a way, she was. Her soul was bound to his in every way.

“I thought you were dead,” Riza sobbed, bringing her spare hand to her mouth. “Your pain disappeared and I thought you died.”

“Hey,” Roy soothed, head turning so he could get a good look at her face. He grunted as he lifted his arm and Riza felt their sides twinge in response. She opened her mouth to scold him, but stopped when his hand found her cheek. “I’m right here.”

“But… but…” Riza didn’t know what to say. She was so sure he had been dead. His pain had disappeared and she could no longer feel his presence. What had happened?

“I passed out,” he replied. “When you passed out after I burnt your back the pain disappeared too.” Riza stared down at him, in shock.

“You told Lust you almost passed out from the pain.”

His expression simpered. “A white lie.”

“I’m sorry I never told you. In the aftermath of… that, and while treating your wounds it slipped my mind. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“You scared me to death,” Riza scolded lightly, gripping the hand on her cheek tightly. In a move so unlike her she leaned down, kissing him. What was the point in them being soulmates if they couldn’t enjoy it, especially after a moment like this?

“Does he know?” Roy whispered quietly once he had recovered from his shock, eyes lazily moving towards the door. They were drooping closed, his exhaustion taking hold. The pain in her side flared as he lowered his hand, the grip on her hand tightening in response. She watched as his face contorted in pain. Riza didn’t even notice she had brought a hand to her side in an attempt to stifle the pain.

“Yes.” Roy stiffened but sighed. “He won’t tell anyone,” Riza replied softly, sure of her reply. Riza had suspected it for a while, but after her brief conversation with Alphonse before Lust entered, the boy knew all about soulmates and what they entailed because he had experienced it all before with his brother.

“Why?” Roy asked. Riza winced in pain.

“Because he knows just how much is at stake.”

#royai #royai fic #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #emma writes #my writing #my fic #royai oneshot #royai fanfic #fma fanfic

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