#rooster bradshaw fluff

[katsu28]

🍭 jesus you're hot." "what?" with rooster maybe?? CONGRATS ON 1K 💕💕

thank you sweet anon baby i love u!!! here's rooster being the most helpful boyfriend but still a little shit <3

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, much fluff, 1.1k

Rooster was happy when he got home tonight, still buzzing with excitement from spending some well needed time with his friends after a grueling few weeks of training. He whistled the tune to the song that was on the radio last as he made his way up the walk and let himself inside, locking the door behind him before he did anything else.

Your voice echoed from somewhere in the house the moment the door closed. “That you, Roos?” 

“No, I’m a house burglar.” 

“You’re hilarious. How was squad night?” Rooster could tell you were rolling your eyes playfully at his words. 

“Good. Missed you though. The guys wanna know if you're still doing happy hour with us next week, and Phoenix says you better come so you can be her wingwoman.” He called back, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water before wandering down the hall in search of the love of his life (aka you).

When he found you in the bedroom, you were sitting at the vanity clad in one of his faded Navy t-shirts with your back towards him, but he could see you in the mirror with a shiny looking sheet mask over your face, your hair held up and away from it by the fluffy headband thing you always used whenever you did your makeup.

You caught his eye in the mirror, beaming at him happily. “Thanks for reminding me, I’ll text Nat later.”

Rooster ambled into the room, tossing his jacket on the bed, unloading his pockets on the nightstand, taking a sip of his water. All the while, you were brushing your hair, brow creased in concentration at the task at hand and not at all at him watching you do your thing. 

“Jesus you’re hot.” He mumbled, leaning against the doorway with one shoulder. 

You tore your eyes away from your moving hands, turning around in your chair to face him. “What?” 

“You heard me, sweetheart.” 

“I’ve got stuff all over my face, Bradley, I really doubt I’m anything close to eye candy right now.” You chuckled, setting down the brush. Rooster shot you a pointed look. 

“Uh, no. Total eye candy, all the time. You could be wearing a trash bag covered in bird shit and I’d still think you’re the hottest, prettiest girl in the whole world, baby.” 

“That’s…disgusting.” 

“I’m trying to be romantic here, woman!” 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You laughed, finally rising from your seat and making your way across the room to him. He was rosy cheeked, warm to the touch when your hands linked around the back of his neck, a hint of beer on his breath as he slid in closer to you. You kissed his cheek, lingering in his embrace for a few more seconds before attempting to wriggle away. “I gotta wash this mask off, Roos.” Rooster let out a groan, sagging back against the doorframe dramatically. “You can come with me if you're gonna be all sad and mopey about it.”

He perked up at that, following you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, and when you grabbed a small washcloth from the drawer, he cocked his head, meeting your eye in the mirror yet again. “Can I take it off for you?” 

You arched an eyebrow at him, shooting him a ‘really?’ look.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, I meant the mask.” He tsked, giving your side a light pinch. “Dirty, dirty mind you’ve got there, sweetheart. I gotta watch out for you.” 

“Knock yourself out.” 

Grinning, he lifted you onto the counter, peeling off the sticky mask delicately so as to make sure it all came off in one piece, and tossing it in the trash before grabbing the towel and wetting it with warm water. Your eyes fluttered shut as Rooster wiped all over your face gently, one of his hands cupping your face to hold your head still while he got all the excess mask off. The stroke of his hand was careful yet deliberate, like everything he did. 

He reached for your headband next, letting the elastic of it snap against your eyes and snickering when you huffed and swatted blindly at him. As soon as he’d gotten it off though, he grinned, immediately bringing his other hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“There’s my girl.” He hummed, tilting his head. There was a glint in his eye that he only got when he was gearing up to kiss you, but you clamped a hand over his mouth before he could, tilting your chin up at him. 

“Nuh uh. What do I need to do before you do that?” 

Rooster’s eyebrows creased in thought, frowning for a second before straightening up suddenly, snapping his fingers in realization. “Moisturizer!” 

“Good.” His hand hovered above the collection of tiny bottles on the counter, fingers wiggling until he found the right one. He popped the cap, squirting a decent sized amount into his palm and spreading it around before promptly planting both hands on your face, squishing your cheeks as he rubbed in the moisturizer playfully rough. 

“Oh, you asshole!” You spluttered, trying to bat his hands away from your face. He busted up at your indignance, going in again a lot softer this time and making sure he’d gotten every part of your face. Now came the time to kiss you and he did, pressing his lips against yours briefly but earnestly. 

“Done and doner. Who’s the best boyfriend in the world?” He nodded proudly when he pulled away, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “I’m gonna save you the headache, because the answer is this guy!”

“I mean, I guess so,” You sighed mock defeatedly, giggling at the way his features instantly warmed into offense. “The best boyfriend in the world would come to bed and cuddle with me until I fall asleep.” 

Rooster nodded quickly. “Lemme shower real quick, then I’ll be right there,” He insisted, punctuating his promise with another peck to your lips. 

“I dunno, I might fall asleep before you’re done.” You never went to bed without him when he was home, but you loved to mess with him every so often. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” He glared at you. “I’ll wake you up again, I swear to god.” 

“Hurry up and shower then, drama queen.” 

“Ten minutes, tops!” 

He was true to his word, squeaky clean and climbing into bed and wrapping you in his arms not even ten minutes later. His hair was still a little damp and curling at the ends, but he smelled delicious, like soap and—

“Did you use my shampoo?” 

“...no?” 

You squinted up at him, to which he averted his gaze guiltily. "Sure smells like you did."

“Baby, if you didn’t want me to use it, stop buying such good smelling shower shit.” 

“You’re the reason I keep running out of shampoo so fast! Oh my god, I knew it wasn’t me!” 

“I’ll run to the drugstore in the morning.” 

“You better.”

[iloveprettyboysblog]

Sereshaw? Sereshaw 💞💕

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold II {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

or- the one where scout falls for Frankie before she falls for rooster.

word count- 2400+

read part 1 here

When Rooster allows himself a couple of rare moments to reflect on Sunday morning, it’s easy to feel blue about the state of all things. But then Frankie will tell him a joke she heard at school:

-What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?

I haven’t the faintest idea, Frankie.

-Thunderpants!

Or she’ll hand him a photo she drew of him in his… F/A-18? Or she’ll curl into his side in front of the television and fall asleep. And he'll know then, without a doubt, that he is the luckiest man in the world. He’s reminded of this fact as he rolls to a halt in front of Penny’s house. The beautiful sound of Frankie’s laughter floats in on the breeze through the Bronco’s open windows and makes him smile. He watches sheer joy bloom on her face as Maverick plays with her in the front yard, and something heavy tugs on his heartstrings.  

You should be here, dad.

Rooster exits the car to lean against the passenger door, not wanting to ruin their moment just yet.

“Papa!”

Frankie catches sight of her father and bolts from Maverick’s embrace to run into Rooster’s outstretched arms, and he reckons there’s no better feeling in the universe. He holds her to him, peppering the top of her head with dozens of kisses.

“Hi papa,” Frankie’s cheeks are rosy and she’s breathless from play.

“Hi Frankie. Did you miss me?”

She nods fervently, circling her tiny arms tighter around him.

“But you had fun with Mav and Penny, right?”

Frankie nods again.

“Well, well, well. You certainly look like you had a good weekend.” Maverick surveys the sight of Rooster with a wry smile.

The younger pilot laughs sheepishly and scratches at the back of his head. “There’s a reason I never really go out with those guys anymore.”

Maverick’s laughter is booming. “You deserved it, kid.” His gaze drifts to Frankie’s and he bends down to her level. “Go see Pen about some cookies before you leave, Frank. She just made a batch of fresh ones.”

Frankie squeezes Rooster’s hand and dashes off in the direction of the front door.

“You bringing her down to the beach?” Maverick asks.

Rooster nods. “Dogfight football Sundays are her favourite. Will we see you there?”

“Penny and I wouldn’t miss it.” Maverick affirms.

His expression is unreadable; Rooster gets the feeling he’s about to ask him something, when Frankie bursts from the house, her tiny hands laden with two bulging Ziploc bags of homemade chocolate chunk cookies.

“Looks like you won the jackpot, Frank.” Rooster muses and watches her place the cookies carefully into her green dinosaur backpack. “Well, we should probably head out sweetheart. Did you thank Mav and Penny for hanging out with you this weekend?”

The elder pilot bends down so that Frankie can wrap her arms around his neck. “We had a good time didn’t we, Frank?”

“Yeah Mav!” She grins and plants a sloppy kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Don’t get too carried away with your goodbyes, Frank. Mav and Penny are meeting us at the beach in a little bit.”

Rooster watches her beautiful blue eyes widen in sheer delight.

“Dogfight football!” She squeals and doesn’t waste a second before jumping into the back of the waiting Bronco.

~

“You’re late, Bradshaw!” Jake yells an hour later and is about to rib him some more, but he falters when he notices Frankie in tow behind him. “Well, if it ain't Frank the Tank!” He jogs to where they’re standing and gathering her into his arms, spins her around in dizzying cirlces. The girlish trill of her laughter fills the humid saltwater air around them.

Rooster marvels at how well Jake does with children and reckons with a wry smile, that perhaps there’s still hope for the elder pilot yet.

“I’m wearing the boots you got me!” Frankie exclaims, excitedly.

Jake bends down to get a good look at the fire-engine red cowboy boots he had picked up for her on his last trip home to Austin.

“So you are, and might I add that they have never looked more stunning on anyone else before.”

Frankie’s cheeks glow pink- she’s about to say something else when she notices Scout a little way beyond the crowd and her eyes widen in delighted surprise.

“Miss Wallis!”

Scout’s eyes light up when she catches sight of her, and she raises a hand in greeting. “Hi Frankie!”

Rooster hadn’t considered her being there; figures that if he had known, he might have thought twice about coming. Especially with Frankie.

“What on Earth are you doing at dogfight football, Miss Wallis?” Frankie’s chest heaves from running through the sand to get to her.

Scout catches Rooster’s gaze for a second and he remembers instantly, the feeling of her hand in his two nights ago and how it felt like he’d known her for years instead of a mere couple of hours, and it’s all he can do not to gather Frankie in his arms and take her back home.

To spare them both heartache that would ensue sooner or later.

“Well, a little birdie flew by and told me that there was going to be a football game on the beach today, and I figured maybe I should drop by to cheer everyone on. What do you think?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Miss Wallis. Can we do it together?”

“I’d like that, Frankie.” Scout beams widely and holds out her hand for Frankie to take, which she accepts happily.

Despite the girls' enthusiastic cheering, a grueling hour passes beneath the relentless San Diego sun, and Rooster (out of breath and embarrassingly sunburnt) is the first to admit that he’s played better games. Jake and Coyote take turns teasing him mercilessly about it, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off Scout and Frankie gallivanting up and down the beach like a couple of old friends. Frankie picks out shells and rocks that strike her fancy, and Scout drops them into the pockets of her sundress for safe keeping.

When Frankie catches up with Rooster and Penny a mile down the beach, she’s breathless with triumph. “You’ll never guess how many shells I found, Papa. Look at this one,” She whispers and opens her tiny palm to reveal a miniscule, speckled cowrie shell.

“That’s a pretty cool one, Frank. You'll have to add it it to your collection." Rooster eyes Scout’s dress, which had been knee-length thirty minutes ago, and was now hanging around her ankles, the hem of it damp from sand and saltwater. "Did you thank Miss Wallis for hanging onto them for you?”

“I did, Papa. Can I go show some of my shells to Bob and Phoenix?” Rooster nods and watches Frankie bound away, her red boots kicking up a sandstorm as she disappears down the beach.

Scout clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s why they make these dresses with such deep pockets.”

Rooster turns to her then; wishes for a moment that fate had intervened seven years earlier, instead of two days ago.

There’s no such thing as ‘right person, wrong time’ Bradley. The right person will never come along at the wrong time.

He hears his mother’s voice so clearly some days, it’s as if she’s still around somewhere.

“I never got to thank you for Friday night.” Scout finally offers.

Rooster frowns. “What for?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a fantastic rendition of a Jerry Lee Lewis song. It’s like you were born to play it.”

Rooster muses at how close she came to the mark. “I don’t have very many memories of childhood before the age of six, but my old man used to love that song.” They wander back to the group of pilots and significant others that had elected to stay after the game for the bonfire.

Jake's busy tossing the football back and forth to Coyote, but when he notices Scout, he winks and asks, "How'd I look out there, Wallis?"

She’s about to respond but Phoenix beats her to it, her tone deapan. “Like a magnet for melanoma, Bagman.”

A chorus of laughter erupts, and all Jake can do is roll his eyes and say, “It seems we have a comedian in our midst, friends.”

“You looked a picture of unbridled athleticism, honey.” Scout giggles by way of putting the flames out, and drops into a seat next to Maverick.

Rooster takes this opportunity to introduce the two. “Maverick, this is Scout Wallis. She just so happens to be Frankie's teacher."

The delicate creases next to the elder pilot’s eyes deepen as he offers her a wide beam. “So, it’s you we have to thank for the plethora of silly jokes Frankie likes to tell us.”

Scout’s cheeks redden before she offers a sheepish shrug. “It turns out that in the state of California, bad jokes are a prerequisite for primary schoolteachers.”

Maverick’s laugh is hearty and booming, but when it subsides, his expression is thoughtful. “In all seriousness though, you’re doing a wonderful job with her.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain. Frankie is a dream to have in the classroom.”

If Maverick wonders how Scout knew to refer to him by his naval rank, he makes no mention of it. Rooster, however, does wonder. He's about to ask her about it when Penny leans over and says, “You were at the Hard Deck on Friday night, weren’t you?”

Oh shit.

Maverick’s eyebrows rise in mild amusement.

“I was yeah,” Scout admits. “I had the pleasure of a very special performance.” She winks at Rooster who fights the urge to drop his gaze.

“Let me guess, he hit you with the old tried and true, Great Balls of Fire?”

“He sure did,” Penny laughs. “Had the whole bar in a tizzy.”

“His dad used to play that song on the piano like his life depended on it.” Maverick murmurs, by way of explanation.  

Rooster could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes of hers again, and where he had never easily shared any part of himself with Frankie’s mother, he was struck suddenly by the want to share every part of himself with Scout. This notion made him uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons; least not of which was because his best friend, who seemed just as crazy about her as he was, was only a couple of feet away.

“I take it there’s history between the two of you?” Scout's voice shatters the muddled silence.

Rooster laughs and glances sideways at the surrogate-father figure before him. “Yeah, something like that.”

The night unfolds the way in which Sunday nights often do for Rooster and Frankie: with an abundance of friends and family, the warm salty air a salve for their souls. Frankie and Scout take a couple of turns throwing the football back and forth; Rooster notices the spiral Scout has on her and grows even more bewitched by the woman before him. When she’s had enough for the night, she drops into a seat next to Penny, their quiet chatter a soothing comparison to the hoots and hollers of the pilots around them.

A little while later, Frankie (exhausted from the day’s events, and with a stomach full of sparkling water and hotdogs) wanders over to where Scout’s seated, climbs onto her lap, and promptly falls asleep. Rooster watches Scout’s arms instinctively circle his daughter’s slumbering figure, and a chunk of ice the size of texas chips away from his heart. With a slight pang, he knows their time to leave has arrived.

“You’ll be hard-pressed to pry them apart, Bradshaw.” Jake’s Southern drawl is thicker under the weight of the couple of beers he had under his belt.

“Don’t I know it.” Rooster sighs and pushes himself from his seat to wander over to where Frankie and Scout are. He drops down into the sand in front of Frankie to rub the flat of his palm over her small back.

“Is it time to go?” Scout whispers.

Rooster nods and waits a second for Frankie to stir. “Come on Frank, it’s time to go home to bed.”

His daughter opens her eyes, her expression stupefied from the weight of sleep. “I don’t want to, Papa.” She pleads.

Rooster kisses the top of her head. “I know, sweetheart, but it's time.” She lets him lift her into his arms without any more fuss. It only takes a second before he feels the steady rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder to know that she’s back to sleep. He turns to Scout, not wanting to say goodbye but accepting the inevitable. “It was a pleasure seeing you again today.”

Scout gazes up at him. “The pleasure was all mine, Rooster. She’s a great kid.”

It’s only after they’ve returned home for the evening, Frankie tucked into bed, and his own eyelids fighting the lulling tug of sleep that he remembers Frankie’s precious shells. He makes a mental note to text Jake about them tomorrow. He lets his mind drift back to that wondrous woman before sleep settles in for good; wonders again how she knew Maverick’s rank, and how she possesses an ease to military life that most civilians don’t usually have.

Maverick stops by the next morning for coffee before Frankie’s awake for the day.

“There’s something going on between you and Frankie’s teacher.” His tone is mild and lacks any accusation.

“Well you certainly are direct this morning, aren’t you?” Rooster takes a deep sip from his mug, savoring the slightly bitter taste of the roasted beans on his tongue, before he answers no.

Maverick shifts in his chair. “But you’d like there to be?”

Rooster hesitates before nodding.

“You have to tread carefully here, kid. Frankie’s crazy about her.”

And so is Jake Seresin.

“Yeah well, Jake beat me to it, so there isn’t much else to say.”

Maverick’s viridian gaze twinkles knowingly in the light pouring in through the kitchen window, giving his head an almost imperceptible half-shake. “The feeling was mutual, Rooster. Everyone knew it.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Rooster asks, “Did you wonder how she knew to call you Captain? You weren’t wearing anything that gave you away.”

Maverick finishes the rest of his coffee and sets the mug down against the wooden tabletop. “What did you say her last name was?”

“Wallis.”

“She teaches at Mason elementary?”

Rooster nods.

Maverick shifts again in his seat and closes his eyes as if he were sifting through a mental rolodex of memories. “I believe her husband was top of his class at NAS Fallon in 2016. A truly great fighter pilot.”

Rooster blanches. “She's married?”

Maverick grows somber. “He died in enemy combat almost five years ago now.”

[call-sign-jinx]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Her

Summary - you’re Bradley’s best friend and he tells you who he loves which breaks your heart

Warnings - fluff, swearing, drinking

Main Masterlist Bradley ”Rooster” Bradshaw Masterlist

A/N - hiya me luvlys! how r u luvly people doing today? also, for whatever isn't requested specifically, the reader will always have a northern british accent, like a manchester accent. just a preference sorry ahaha xx

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley has been my best mate since I moved to America. I moved in right next door to him with my mum and dad and little sister Alya. We moved to America because my dad got a new job and thought it was best for all of us.

Bradley then became my best friend very quickly. The first day we met to be more precise. He stuck up for me when I were getting bullied during my first week of my new school. Some bitch decided to take the piss out of me and Alya cause we’re fucking Polish? Okay mate. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here.

Bradley stuck up for me and Alya right off the bat. He was so sweet and he gave Alya his lunch cause them kids decided to fucking take her lunch which is just classic stupid ass bully shit from films.

Now god knows how many years later, we’re in the Navy, as Naval Aviators, went to different academies, and we’ve both been called to Top Gun. He was the first person I called to tell him. And I was the first person he called. We immediately went down to our favourite bar to celebrate, Alya coming as well cause she’s part of our group. But in all honesty, me and Bradley are closer.

Currently, me and Bradley are sat in his Bronco on our way to the Hard Deck to meet some of the other aviators. Hopefully there’s another woman there, if there isn’t I’m gonna be too overwhelmed with testosterone. I already get enough from Rooster over here.

Anyways, as soon as I got into the Navy, people gave me the callsign Fox (you can change the callsign and why you got it but I’m going to use this 😊) because “I’m a fox”, meaning I’m sexy, according to everyone at my academy. Which consisted of all men and one woman who was a WSO who soon retired to be with her family after a training scare. God I miss her, her callsign was Nyx. She was amazing. Bradley said I got my callsign because “I look cute but I’m a silent killer”. I like that reason better.

Back to the Hard Deck. Me and Bradley walked in talking about some shit we did back in high school. Which I am not proud of because it mostly consisted of making out with lads and getting stupidly drunk at parties which led to Bradley taking me home while I sang California Love.

As I looked around my eyes instantly landed on a woman with military uniform on and my eyes lit up. I quickly made my way toward her, accidentally leaving Bradley, and introduced myself.

“Hi, oh my God, you don’t know how happy I am to see another female aviator here…” I looked to her name tag and saw her callsign, Phoenix. “Phoenix! I’m Y/N. But my callsign’s Fox. It’s really nice to know I won’t suffer with too much testosterone alone.” I was rambling at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and nodded at everything I said.

“It really is a relief, before you came over here I thought I would be alone with all these guys. And I love your callsign. How’d you get it?” Phoenix gave me a inquisitive look and I smiled remembering the day some jackass gave it to me.

“Because I’m ‘foxy’ then everyone started calling me it and it just stuck. Because of some fucking wankstain that gave it to me.” Phoenix then burst into laughter as I said “wankstain”.

“Guys are like that all the time, especially Hangman over there.” She points to a guy and he looks like a real life Ken doll.

“Just this moment I thought he was a 6’2 Ken doll. He looks fucking plastic. Wondered why the Hard Deck would put a Ken Doll display up in here.” Phoenix then began laughing to the point she had to hold her stomach.

As Phoenix gained composure, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I turned to look around and saw Bradley. I smiled up at him and rested my head on his hand.

“I see you’ve already met Phoenix.” Bradley stretched his arm across my shoulder and smirked at Phoenix. Does he like her? Why would I care anyway? Do I care? Does he like her though?

“Yep, and I like her more than you already.” I turned my body to face Bradley and he placed his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings sweetheart, how dare you.” The new nickname brought heat to my cheeks. I looked down to my feet quickly then looked back up to him and put a smirk on my face.

“Aww poor Bradley, come on Phoenix we need to give him a hug. He’s having a bad day today.” I made a pouty face and Bradley just stood there with a pissed off smile.

“Shut up Y/N. You know you love me.” I rolled my eyes as Bradley came up and and hugged me by my side.

————————————————————————

“Bro, I can’t be arsed with getting up so early just to meet who we’re gonna be trained by.” I said to Rooster as he took a swig of the shared bottle of Apple Sourz that I got an hour before meeting up with him in his Bronco.

“Best not be some prick who’s full of himself. I swear if he is and he tries anything wiv me, you, Bob or Phoenix am gonna spark him out.” Bradley lets out a hearty laugh and pats my shoulder.

“You British people sure do have a way with words sweetheart.” There it is again. The nickname. It brings heat up to my cheeks yet again and it’s not dark enough to hide so Bradley can see it.

“Are you blushing Y/N?” I immediately look away as my worries were confirmed. Bradley saw me fucking blush. Great.

“No why?” I pretended to be oblivious to the raging red covering my face. It got even darker as Bradley squinted his eyes at me, getting a better look at the rouge covering my whole face most likely.

"You're as red as a tomato Y/N. Is something wrong then? If you're not blushing then why is your face red?" I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, I may be called Fox but I don't think I can get myself out of this one.

"It's getting a bit hot? That's why. It's getting hot." Bradley rolled his eyes at my answer. But he didn't press on it any more. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Until I broke the silence.

"Bradley?" Bradley sat up and turned to look at me before nodding his head for me to continue.

"How come you've never had a long term girlfriend? I'm sorry for asking but I've always wanted to know because, not gonna lie you are quite easy on the eyes so I just don't understand it." Bradley's eyes widened in shock. I was lying when I said he was "quite easy on the eyes" he's fucking gorgeous! He's fucking perfect for God's sake!

I immediately regretted what I said and before he could even open his mouth I blurted out, "Shit! Sorry! I don't know why I even said that. Just ignore it, you don't have to-" Bradley cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

"It's okay Y/N/N, I'm fine with answering any questions you have for me. We're best friends after all, aren't we?" I nodded in response.

"It's because I never truly or fully like or love them. There's something stopping me from doing that. Because I like that thing so much better and all I do is compare them to her." My eyes widened and heart broke, he was in love with someone? That's why he's never had a long term girlfriend? Because he's in love with another woman?

"Her?" Is all I could say. Tears threatened to come out of my eyes, I couldn't cry in front of him after he said that. It'd make it obvious that I was in love with him.

"Yeah, and she's amazing, I think I love her in all honesty. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she's brave..." I had to look away so Bradley didn't see me cry. She already sounds so much better than I could ever be and he only named 4 things about her.

"And she's got a Callsign that she hates but I absolutely love..." He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and made me look at him.

"And do you wanna know what her Callsign is?" I nodded my head, wanting to know this amazing woman who made Bradley swoon for her.

"Fox." My heart literally stopped. I couldn't breath. The tears completely stopped and I couldn't help the massive smile that was painted across my face.

"Me?" I just wanted to confirm it. Confirm I wasn't imagining that he said my Callsign.

"Yes you. You're the reason I've never had a girlfriend for longer than a month. Because to me, you're so much better than all of them combined. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you is because I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn't feel the same and it would ruin our friendship. And yes I know that that's what every guy says to his girl best friend in most of the movies we've watched. So don't even comment on that." In response to his confession, I threw myself on him in a big hug that knocked him onto his back on the bonnet of his Bronco.

After I pulled away from the hug, I looked into Bradley's eyes and smiled. He loved me. Bradley fucking Bradshaw loves me!

"I love you too Bradley. I always have and I always will." Before he could reply, I connected our lips as I ran my hand threw his hair. His mustache tickled my top lip and it made me giggle slightly. Bradley almost immediately kissed back as his hands trailed down my torso to my waist and pulled my closer. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip asking for permission and he quickly allowed it. Bradley then squeezed my waist which elicited a slight moan from my mouth.

When we both finally pulled away, Bradley had a look in his eyes that I've never seen before. I furrowed my brows, confused at his expression. "What?" I questioned him and all he did was smile more than he already was.

"I've just realised that my life is perfect now that I have you. And no one else can have you." I rolled my eyes with a playful smile on my face.

"You have to pop the question before you can say that, Rooster." We both now had the same smirk on our faces.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He had a charming mixed with excited smile on his face. One I couldn't say no to of course.

"I would love to be." With that, he pulled my into another kiss.

I finally felt at ease with him. He is basically my emotional support animal but a human. He's always been there for me and now he's my boyfriend. I couldn't be any happier than this right now. Nothing can beat what I'm feeling right now.

[notroosterbradshaw]

ahhh maybe 21 with rooster? 21- Having your lover list everything they're insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.

21. Having your lover list everything they’re insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.

Nonny, I'm writing this after a few drinks, so my mind is wild. Trying to keep it above board tho. Ladies' night, cock talk, dancing, drinks. Rough thots. All those cheeky things you may talk about when out with your mates. Then fluffy stuff. Enjoy x

Hearing the front door open and a few choice curse words, Rooster chuckled quietly to himself, pausing the game. Not too concerned, he already knew his Phillies won, but it was nice to watch the game in peace. "Baby, you good?" he called.

"Oh, you're still up."

"Have the weekend off, I'm ragin', babydoll," he joked. Hearing a thud, he cringed and asked again if you were okay.

"I'm good," you confirmed. He heard the sound of items hitting the wall - two, your heels, he bet - and you appeared a moment later, hair wildly sexy, eyes a little bloodshot and a wide grin on your face. "Hi, gorgeous."

He raised an eyebrow, giving you his attention. "Hi, babydoll. How was your night?" he bit back a grin.

"Really good," you told him.

"Lots of dancing?"

"Yeah. My feet are aching. My back is completely out of alignment from those heels."

"I could have come and got you," he reminded you.

"Shared an Uber with the girls. I knew you wanted to watch the game, it's all good."

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes watching you move towards him. "Catch up on all the gossip?"

"We don't gossip, we state facts."

"My apologies," he laughed. "Dick talk?"

"Always. Yours reigns supreme, baby and everyone knows it."

Rooster winked. "As they should."

"But they will never really know."

"No," he agreed. "Only you."

"I'm very, very lucky," you told him with a grin.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice a little rougher as he tried to keep his amusement to himself. "You can keep stroking my ego though. If you want to, of course," he begged, teasingly.

"You stroke your own ego just fine, Bradshaw."

He shrugged modestly. Who was he to argue?

You laughed, stretching. "You want me to wax lyrical about your cock?"

"Haiku form, please?" he demanded, knowing the impossible wasn't about to happen.

"Okay, lemme try..." you inhaled, trying to remember what the fuck a haiku was. Bradley chewed his lip, trying not to lose it. You weren't drunk, nowhere near it, but you were certainly looser than usual. He loved that for you. You didn't go out with your friends as often as you should, and knew you revelled in nights just like this. "Okay, okay," you grinned. "Ready? I think I got this."

"I don't think you do, but be my guest, baby," he watched you take the floor.

"Rooster is his name," you counted the five syllables on your fingers, he licked his lips, actually about to lose it. "And he has a six-foot frame. And nine inches hard."

He cackled. "You are insane, I'm very impressed," he stood up and greeted you with a warm kiss. "You tell everyone you meet about the nine inches, right?" he teased.

"I rounded up," you reminded him. He didn't argue but pouted anyway. It wasn't a generous roundup and the locker room gifted his Rooster for it. "But usually I don't even offer a name. Just tell everyone my sexy naval aviator husband has a huge cock. You wouldn't believe how many often I am asked how I'm walking straight," you reminded him.

"All right, all right," he laughed, his dimples deep and bold. "People don't need to hear anything after nine inches, baby."

"Bradley Bradshaw, you are so full of yourself."

"Sure am, I'm the 1%. I got it all. Perfect partner, perfect house, perfect job - " he paused. Your glare told him he was incorrect. "Even if you don't agree and I'm away far too long," he held his palms up and rested them on your shoulders, leaning down to kiss you and whispered, "Sorry, I give, I give. Did you eat?"

"We ate, still hungry though. Did you leave any pizza?" you asked hopefully, as he hoisted you into his arms and fell back against the couch, you perched perfectly on his lap.

"Of course."

"You're the perfect man."

He scoffed, knowing how untrue it was. "Thank you, but you know I'm not."

You kissed him and kissed him thoroughly. He was a tender kisser, or at least knew that was how you needed it. "I missed you, lover. I love being with my friends, but this is so much better. Don't tell them though."

"Never, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me," he pressed a kiss between your brows. "You look very sexy."

"My feet hurt, my back hurts, I think my make up is melting like The Joker."

He grinned. "Just how I like it," he teased.

"You're such a pig," you giggled, resting you head against his clavicle, appreciating the shirtlessness. His cologne invaded your senses, his skin hot, as always.

"Do you have any idea..." you murmured quietly, hiking up the skirt of your dress, to sit comfortably. Your hands rested on his clavicle, pushing in to massage his strong traps. He licked his lips at your advances and eased you both back against the back of his seat, preparing for anything you were about to give him. "Do you know, you probably do, just how sexy you are to me?" you asked, your face staring intently at his.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, a humoured smirk gracing his features. "So, you’re booking in to the optometrist next week, I see?" he chuckled darkly as you wriggled to rest on the hefty muscles of his quads. He wasn't surprised to hear your breathy gasp. You'd had a few drinks with your friends after work, leaving him all alone at home to his own devices (he watched his team play baseball, he was fucking fine) but you were fairly sober, he knew when you were drunk, this was not it. You may have been a little more turned on and chattier than usually though and he was very pleased with this.

"Look at your beautiful face," you told him, holding his jaw in your palms. "You are just so gorgeous, Bradley."

He made a face, not quite believing you. He knew what he looked like, he knew the scars that marred his skin and you knew how self-conscious he was about them. He'd tried lotions and potions, anything to help reduce the scarring. Laser too, but nothing really faded the wiry marks from a mid-air incident when he was a young pilot. He was lucky to live, and walked away with a few cuts, scratches and pretty banged up. A lot more than his father was ever allowed and that’s why he tried not to make too much of it.

“You know I hate them,” he lowered his eyes, embarrassed. A bit angry at his lot.

But you knew. He knew you knew how unsure of himself they made him feel. You never made a big deal of them. They were such an innate part of him, and he never spoke of the incident. You only learned about it during a conversation with Natasha. She was so surprised to learn you didn't know that she figured she overstepped the mark. She told you later that Rooster was so angry that she'd told you what had happened and hoped it hadn't caused any problems for you. It was early days then, when he'd do anything for your attention, sing, crow, buy all your drinks, shoo other suitors away.

You were in love with him the moment he introduced himself. He was a young aviator in port so far from his home, uniform a little tight from the burgeoning muscles he was clearly working on. Moustache that was growing in. His voice roped you in immediately as you shared a quiet beer. You'd lost your heart to him the second he introduced himself by callsign and you laughed at him. He blushed so redly from his chest to the tips of his ears. You were enamoured right then and there. You were so proud of him but you waited the day he said he would he retiring and keeping his feet planted on the earth.

Those days weren’t as close as you wanted though.

“I love every single part of you,” you reiterated. “These would never make me love you less, Bradley.”

He only murdered a gun in reply.

You lifted his gaze and traced every blemish, and kissed his chin. You thumbed his upper lip and the scar across his cleft, kissing his lips tenderly. "I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. Scars and all," you devoutly gave him everything he deserved.

You knew you words didn't soothe his disappointment but he'd be lying to say that each time your sweet lips gave love to the raised skin, it sent shockwaves through his system, the nerve endings so sensitive and it made him feel invincible.

But it didn't change what he looked at in the mirror.

You inhaled as you kissed his Adam's Apple, the longest of his scars. He swallowed roughly, his palms knotting in your hair. "Fuck, that feels so damn good, baby,” his voice lower and deeper than before.

"I know, baby," you said, trailing gentle kisses across his neck, towards the gnarliest of his scars on his shoulder.

"Thank you, babydoll," he said softly.

"I know you hate your scars, but they absolutely take nothing away from who you are. You strong, sweet, so smart, a smart ass," you told him, kissing his full lips as he resisted smiling. "And so fucking sexy, and honestly, nothing you can tell me will ever make me think differently."

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[lewmagoo]

Baking Christmas cookies with Bradley, only to notice he already ate the decorations before they could be added to the cookies 🎄

'they were trying to be sweeter than you, but don't worry I took care of it, you're the sweetest again.'

the house smelled of gingerbread and christmas candles. dean martin was crooning holiday tunes through bradley's record player, and the fireplace crackled in the living room. it was a cozy night in, and the two of you were spending it by making christmas cookies.

you'd raided carole's old recipe box, after bradley had insisted that she made the best sugar cookies he'd ever had. you wanted so badly to master the recipe, to give him something that reminded him of his mother. so you set out to do so.

first, it was gingerbread, which was baking in the oven. next were the sugar cookies. you were currently in the middle of cutting out the dough into various shapes, while bradley watched you intently.

you caught his gaze as you worked, his honeyed eyes holding a dreamy look. "what?" you asked, feeling slightly self-conscious. he shrugged, smiling softly. "nothing. you're just so beautiful and i don't know how i got so lucky."

"oh, hush," you replied, shaking your head as you went back to working. he reached out and grabbed a small handful of m&ms out of one of the bowls you'd filled with cookie toppings. you reached out and gently smacked his hand. "i told you to stop eating the decorations!" came your scolding.

"i can't help it, i'm starving," he responded. "here, i have a job for you," you suggested, grabbing the oven mitts and thrusting them into his hands. "get the cookies out of the oven while you're waiting." he nodded and set about pulling the gingerbread cookies out of the hot oven.

he sang along to winter wonderland as he went, harmonizing with dean. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend, dressed in christmas pajamas, complete with a santa hat on his head. he was truly too adorable for his own good.

he pulled the cookies out of the oven and placed them atop it, turning to you again with a smile. "done," he announced. not long after, you handed him your freshly arranged tray of sugar cookies to put into the oven. then you set about cleaning up your workspace, but not before bradley whisked you away to dance around the kitchen.

you let him lead you around, warmth enveloping you as he held you close. you really could stay like this forever. but as he spun you around one more time, you noticed something. you stopped, whirling around to look at the counter. "bradley bradshaw!" you exclaimed. "what?!" he asked.

"did you seriously eat all the cookie decorations?" you turned to look at him, and he had the audacity to laugh at you. "maybe i did," he admitted. "i told you i was starving! you can't set m&ms in front of me and expect me not to eat them all." he pulled you into his arms again, and you went reluctantly, rolling your eyes at his antics.

"besides," he continued, tipping your chin up so you'd look at him. mischief twinkled in his eyes, "they were trying to be sweeter than you, but don't worry, I took care of it. you're the sweetest again." this prompted another good-natured eye roll from you. "i really should be mad at you," you sighed. "but you love me," he responded. you had to nod in agreement, because he was right. "that i do. you owe me m&ms though. don't think i won't hold you to that." his smile shifted into a grin at your words. "i'll get you some more. but i can't guarantee i won't eat them all again."

[saltsicklover]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Master List

₊˚⊹ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw ₊˚⊹

˖⁺‧₊ Key₊‧⁺˖

♡ xFem!Reader

☁︎ xDisabled!Reader

ꨄ︎ Soulmate AU

One Shots

Vienna (Hurt and Comfort)

Red can't keep Bradley from his dreams, from Vienna.

So Romantic on the Borderline (Part 2 to Vienna, but can be read as a stand alone) A game of operation and some laughs. (Coming Soon) Requests Open!

Series Broken House ~ A Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Mini Series Pete Mitchell left his baby girl, and then had a falling out with Bradley after the Uranium Mission. Bradley and Honey broke up after a misunderstanding. The team is getting recalled. Now they all have to confront each other at the worst time, during a party at the Hard Deck. Slamming Doors (ANGST) Open Windows Mud on the Floor (Angst, Fluff, Angst sandwich)

Not A Cyclone, But a Monsoon (Completed!)

Y/N Monsoon Mitchell faces an awkward dinner party turned the worst in history, a recall to Top Gun and the Uranium mission.

Part 1

Part 2

(Coming Soon) Requests Open!

[fiction-is-life]

This is too cute!!

Heyyy I was wondering if you could do a rooster x reader where the reader and rooster have like 8 kids and the rest of the dagger squad meets the reader and roosters kids and are all shocked at how many kids rooster has? Maybe 7 boys and 1 girl who’s his absolute angle btw just something very soft cute and sweet

Aww that's such a cute idea! Thanks for the request, anon <3 Hope you like it!

Rooster's Brood

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: The squad gets a little surprise in the form of Rooster spawn.

CW: fluff, dad Rooster, Rooster loves his hot wife, some Hannix vibes, Hangman may actually be the superstar of this drabble..oops

Masterlist

“Uh, Rooster.” Jake furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “There’s a kid behind you making faces. No, scratch that,” he adds, a look of concern washing over his features. “There are two of them. Or am I seeing double?” He blinks several times and rubs his eyes.

Bradley grins at Jake while the rest of the squad gathers around to investigate the situation. When Bradley turns around, the two boys rush at him with open arms. Bradley squats down to gather them up.

“Rooster, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Natasha says warily. “But there are more of them coming your way.”

The group of aviators look down the beach to see five more boys of various ages gunning for Rooster.

“Maybe he used to be a kindergarten teacher?” Bob says hopefully, brushing sand from his shorts.

“Either that or he’s finally found a likeminded group of individuals who share his level of intellect,” Jake says with a grimace.

“Why would you insult the children like that, Hangman?” Javy says with a smile. Jake chuckles while Natasha rolls her eyes at them, shaking her head.

Mickey steps forward, squinting into the afternoon sun. “There’s a girl too.”

At this point, the rest of the boys have crowded around Bradley’s legs, fighting one another off as they try to climb up his body. Despite the ruckus, Bradley seems to be having the time of his life, holding a twin boy in each arm as the rest of the brood takes turns trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Seriously, where the fuck are all these little people coming from?” Jake mutters as a little girl runs barefoot across the beach toward Bradley.

Natasha gives him a hard smack on the shoulder. “Bagman, language!”

Jake looks over at her with a shocked expression, rubbing his arm in bewilderment. “Phoenix, you can’t just go around hitting people. What kind of example are you setting for the juveniles?”

Phoenix shoots him an annoyed glance as Bradley crouches to set the twins down. He’s got one knee on the ground and a huge grin on his face as he stretches his arms out toward the little girl. Meanwhile, the rest of the kids are vaulting him tirelessly. Bradley laughs, bracing himself to stay upright.

The little girl finally arrives and Bradley scoops her up into his arms, standing up and holding her tightly against his chest. She lays her head on his shoulder and he rests his cheek on top of her hair. “Hi princess,” he says, swaying back and forth as he cradles her against his body.

“Hi daddy,” the girl says sweetly.

Jake’s eyes widen as he glances between Natasha and Mickey. “Daddy?” he mouths in utter shock.

Natasha can’t formulate a response because she’s just as surprised as Jake is.

“I missed you, daddy,” the girl says.

“I missed you too, angel,” Bradley mutters softly, squeezing her tighter as the boys bounce around the two of them, goofing off in the sand.

“I count twelve,” Jake says, his eyebrows scrunched up. “You?”

Natasha looks over at him with a grimace. “There are seven. No, wait. Eight, with the girl.”

Jake nods with his jaw jutted out musingly. “I may have counted some of them twice. They move so fast. And they all kind of look alike.”

“They all kind of look like Rooster,” Mickey points out.

Bradley strokes his little girl’s hair as he cranes his neck to observe a figure walking in the distance. He smiles as you approach, your long sundress flowing in the breeze. You’re carrying tiny sandals in your hand.

“Is that the wife, Bradshaw?” Reuben calls out as Bradley’s kids begin to circle his legs. Reuben cups his hands over his package protectively, wincing as they swarm around him.

“Are you kidding?” Jake says. “He wishes; that woman is way out of his league.”

Bradley turns to give Jake a smirk. “I agree.”

You smile at your husband, having heard the latest interaction. Bradley glimpses back at you, squinting slightly from the sun, and holds out his arm toward you with your daughter still on his hip. You lean into his side and he instantly pulls you closer, kissing you passionately on the lips.

“Rooster, there are children present,” Jake says, cringing.

“And very immature adults,” Natasha adds.

Jake gives her a pointed look. “At least you’re self-aware,” he retorts.

Rooster ignores his friends’ exchange, giving you some additional kisses on your lips, and then peppering the rest of your face with quick kisses. You laugh and his hold tightens around your waist as he continues kissing you over and over again. You feel his lips spreading into a smile as he chuckles over your temple, but he doesn’t stop kissing you until you finally pull away.

You look at the stunned faces around you with a sheepish grin as Bradley watches you with a mixture of pride and admiration on his face. He kisses your daughter’s head and sets her down gently. Then, he approaches you with a mischievous look. His shirtless body is glistening with sweat and you struggle to not objectify your husband. But you haven’t seen him in weeks and he looks so good that you find yourself failing miserably at this task. Bradley’s smirk indicates that he’s amply aware of just how much you’re craving him and, once he’s close enough, he wraps both arms around your waist and tugs you forward.

“Looks like we’ve got some babysitters,” Bradley says in a low voice.

You chuckle. “I don’t know, eight aviators versus eight of your kids? I’m not optimistic.”

Bradley laughs. “I have faith in my squad.” You look around his massive shoulder to see Jake pick up one of your boys and flip him upside down. Your son screams with glee while the rest of your kids rush toward Jake to get a turn. Natasha is watching on with a small smile, her arms folded over her chest. Before you can respond, Bradley leans down to place his arm under your legs. With his other arm supporting your back, he swiftly lifts you off the ground as you yelp in surprise.

“Alright, kids,” Bradley says. “We’ll be back.”

“Just to clarify,” Jake says, now holding two of your children by the ankles while they wriggle in his grasp. “We’re the kids you’re referring to, right?”

Bradley nods at him. “Children, keep an eye on Uncle Jake, he can be a handful.”

Jake scoffs with a laugh. “What about you, Phoenix?” Jake turns to look at her. “Ever think about having little crotch goblins of your own?”

Bradley shakes his head at Jake. “That is possibly the worst pickup line I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

You laugh, hiding your face in the crook of Bradley’s neck. As he carries you away, you hear Natasha say, “Not until today.”

Read Part 2

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in future Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 My Rooster tag list might be overflowing 😅

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

[warnersister]

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

[katsu28]

return to sender

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

summary: you’ve been getting your neighbor’s mail for the past few months and you were okay with it, but now came a time to finally talk to him about it 

warnings: light swearing, neighbors meet cute, bradley's biceps bc god damn they deserve a warning of their own (2.5k)

navigation

The first time you got someone else’s mail, you didn’t think anything of it. Bradley Bradshaw, it said, 1987 Pennsylvania Court. That was a few doors down from your place, and they were just letters, you could just drop them off in his mailbox the next time you went out. No big deal, it was just one time. 

Then one time became twice, which eventually turned into a third, fourth, fifth time, and so on. Letters soon became bigger envelopes, which didn’t actually fit into his mail slot. 

So you started dropping them on his doorstep, leaving them for him to find the next time he left the house. Knocking on his door and giving him his mail seemed like it would be too much of an endeavor for your poor social skills, because you’d seen Bradley Bradshaw around from afar sometimes, but you’d never said a word to him. No, he was big and tall and scary looking, and as much as you hated to pass judgment on people you didn’t actually know, probably a jerk. 

So yeah, sticking them in his mailbox, leaving them at his door and hightailing it out of there was the best option for everyone. It meant you didn’t have to confront him and tell him that his mail was being sent to the wrong apartment, and he didn’t have to waste his time talking to you. Win win for both of you. 

That all went out the window today, when you opened your door to see the biggest box you’d ever laid eyes on sitting on your welcome mat, the mailing address on the top flap spelling out none other than motherfucking Bradley Bradshaw in large, bold letters. Upon trying to lift it, you very quickly found that you couldn’t even get it to budge more than an inch. 

Looks like you were going to have to talk to Bradley after all. 

After giving yourself a pep talk (and hyping yourself up and going through all the things that could possibly go wrong) you marched your way over to his place, practicing what you were going to say to him the whole way. 

You exhaled one last sharp breath through your mouth, licking your lips nervously before knocking on his door, once, twice, a third time. Faint footsteps came from inside, the clicking of the lock a few seconds after, then the door swung open. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the person standing in front of you. It was Bradley, of course, but up close for the first time. For once, you could see him in his entirety, and holy fuck was he hot. Clad in a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts, he looked unfairly good—a far cry from you in your stretched out leggings and frayed sweatshirt from fucking college. He was tall and broad and tan and about a dozen other words you couldn’t even think of right now, not when all you could do was barely control your reaction to seeing him. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was a ‘loading, please wait’ signal flashing above your head. 

His gaze landed on you hovering awkwardly on his doorstep, offering you a polite smile. “Hi, can I help you with something?” 

“Hi. I live a few doors down from here and I think there’s been some sort of mistake with the post office, because I’ve been getting your mail for the past few months.” You blurted, pressing your lips together right after the words left your mouth. Way to ease into it, loser! 

Bradley’s eyebrow’s furrowed, mouth turning down into a confused sort of frown. “Uh…no, I don’t think so? My mail’s been getting here just fine everyday.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been dropping it off in your mailbox every time I get it.”  

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open the tiniest bit in…was that shock? Surprise? Possibly guilt? Maybe a mixture of all three. “Shit, really?” You nodded. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t even—I didn’t notice.” 

Honestly, you were expecting him to be a dick about it, but here he was, apologizing for something that he couldn’t have even known was happening all this time. It was throwing you for a loop, because you’d built him up in your head to be kinda mean and scary, but he was actually really nice. 

“Um. It’s—it’s okay. Just thought I should let you know.” 

“I guess I should be thanking you then.” He smiled warmly, and you had to fight the urge to turn tail and run. Bradley Bradshaw had the kind of smile that had the power to throw your whole plan out the window. 

See, you’d banked this entire interaction on him being an asshole. You’d tell him to come get his package, he’d do it, somehow fix the whole mail delivery problem, and then you’d never have to talk to him again. Problems solved, no reason for you to have to take this any further. 

Except he wasn’t an asshole at all, which made you feel like an asshole. 

“I’m Bradley, by the way,” He offered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Which you already knew, ‘cause you’ve been getting my mail for months. I never got your name though?” 

“Y/N.” You replied, shifting your weight to your other foot. He repeated it, bobbing his head in acknowledgment. Hearing your name come off his lips was…well, the only way you could describe it was weird. It sounded somehow better than you’d heard it come out of anyone else’s mouth. “Right, so that’s not actually what I came over here for. Well, it was to tell you about the mail thing, but also something else. You’ve got a giant package.” Your face burned lava hot as you realized what you said and what it sounded like you were saying (two very different things, by the way). 

Bradley coughed abruptly, choking on his own breath at your words. He pounded on his chest a few times to recover before speaking. “I’m sorry?” 

“Your mail—a really big box. Sent to my apartment. Again!” You exclaimed, attempting to salvage your dignity and this downhill spiraling conversation. You could see Bradley was trying to keep his composure so as to not make you feel any more mortified than he could clearly see you were, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He’d brought up a hand to rub at his mustache, effectively covering most of his mouth, but the beginnings of a smirk curled the edges of it, his eyes glinting in barely contained amusement at your blunder. “There’s a giant box that belongs to you on my doorstep and I can’t move it, so can you just…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come grab it.” He nodded quickly, grabbing his keys and stepping outside. He shut the door behind him, gesturing for you to go first. “Lead the way.” 

You started the walk back to your place in dead silence, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t have to say anything to Bradley. You’d rather stew in your own humiliation and impending misery than initiate another conversation. Or think about how attractive he was, but that was besides the point. Totally, completely irrelevant. 

It was going pretty well, but then, he spoke. “So, when did you move into your place? I can’t say that I’ve seen you around here much.” 

He was trying to make small talk, you could tell. Probably to avoid having to dwell on the very awkward situation from moments prior. And as much as you didn’t want to make any more of a fool out of yourself than you already had, it would’ve been rude not to answer. 

“Been here a few years. I keep to myself mostly though.” Mainly to avoid situations like this. 

“Ah yeah, I’m usually not here too often. My job takes me a lot of different places, so I’m typically gone for months at a time.” He replied casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Long business trips?” 

“Sorta. I’m Navy. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, naval aviator—at your service.” Navy, interesting. Now you were wondering how those broad shoulders fit into a jet. 

“So you zoom around in the skies for a living?” 

“It’s a little more than that, but yeah, pretty much,” He snorted, said broad shoulders shaking with laughter. Damnit, even his laugh was endearing. It was getting harder and harder for you to justify making this thing with Bradley a one off. “Maybe I could take you up in my jet one day, give you a taste of what flying free feels like.” 

Was he…flirting with you right now? 

You finally looked at him, raising a curious eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s extremely against the rules. I can’t do that, I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.” Bradley admitted, offering you a rather embarrassed smile. 

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but good thing you’d arrived back at your place right at that minute, the huge box on your doormat instantly distracting him. 

“No way! I’ve been waiting for this thing for ages!” He exclaimed, squatting down to run his hand along the cardboard. He turned to you, eyes alight with pure joy. “You wanna know what it is?” 

You didn’t feel like you really needed to know, but from the way Bradley was beaming at you, you found yourself actually growing a little interested. “What is it?” 

“This fancy new coffee machine one of my buddies has been raving about. Apparently it’s supposed to brew like, the best coffee ever. I really think he might be exaggerating a bit, but Hangman’s fairly reliable when it comes to cool things.” 

Your brow raised in curiosity. “Hangman?” 

“His callsign. Mine’s Rooster.” Weird, but somehow it seemed very fitting. 

Bradley hefted the box into his arms with ease, resting it on a raised knee as he attempted to get his arms around it. His biceps bulged with the effort, and you had to make a conscious effort to avert your gaze. God, those things had to be bigger than your head. 

“Thank you again for dropping off my mail all this time, you really didn’t have to.” He said earnestly, fighting another smirk. Oh, he definitely caught you looking.

“I didn’t mind.” You replied quickly, feeling your face grow warm again. “Thought they might be important things. Naval aviator paperwork, maybe.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you get on with your day,” Bradley chuckled. He shifted the box a little higher up in his arms, and you looked anywhere else to stop your eyes slipping to his flexing biceps yet again. “But hey, if you ever wanted to chat or hang out or something since we’re neighbors, feel free to swing by. We could try out this coffee machine, see if it’s worth the fortune I spent on it.” 

You hesitated in your response. You knew it wasn’t anything serious, just some coffee between two neighbors, but the weight of it hung heavy in the air. Did you really want to make this more than a one time thing? 

Bradley was really goddamn nice, and as pathetic as it might’ve sounded, just that was enough to make your answer lean towards yes. But he didn’t need to know that yet. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to pressure you for a response right this very minute, so you just nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was nice to meet you, Rooster.” You were slightly teasing him about his callsign, but it didn’t look like he minded one bit. One side of his mouth lifted into a smile, dimples on full display. 

“Call me Bradley,” He insisted, brown eyes not unlike the coffee he was offering up boring into yours. “Please.” 

“Okay. Bradley.” He looked pleased at that. “See you around, I guess.” 

“I sure hope so.” 

-------

It was weird how frequently you did start to see Bradley around after that. You’d stopped getting his mail, but sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of him through your window on one of his daily runs, and a lot of the time you somehow left the house or came home at the same time, which resulted in more conversations with each other. 

He’d always go out of his way to say hi or good morning to you when he spotted you, even if you had your head down or your earbuds in, and one time he even scared the living shit out of you by tapping your shoulder when you were looking for your car keys in your bag. Turns out you’d somehow dropped them near his car (which you didn’t even know was his car), and he was on his way out too when he spotted them. 

Things like this happened so often, you began to get used to Bradley. Talking to him became easier, less nerve wracking. It got to a point where you even started to look forward to seeing him out and about, because your interactions always ended up leaving you in a better mood. He was funny, charismatic as hell, and definitely easy on the eyes, and as much as you were afraid to admit it at first, you started to like him a little more than you knew you should’ve. Part of you thought that he might like you too, but you just weren’t sure. 

Yeah, he was a little flirty with you, but you just chalked that up to it being part of his personality. No way he was actually serious about it. That was just who Bradley Bradshaw was. 

Or so you thought.

The answer to your wonders came in the form of a stack of your mail in your mailbox one day a few weeks after the whole giant package fiasco. There was a sticky note attached to the top one, a message scrawled across the paper in small, messy letters. 

These were mixed in with my mail today. My my, how the tables have turned. Here’s my number in case the post office decides to make this a new thing. - Bradley 

You had to hand it to him—Bradley sure knew how to make his mark. You smiled to yourself, phone in hand, fingers entering his number and tapping out a message before you could even take a second to dwell on it. 

y/n: that offer for coffee still on the table by any chance? 

You set it face down on the kitchen counter the moment after you pressed send, walking away from it like that would quell your nerves as you waited for Bradley’s response. But really, what was the likelihood that he was going to see your message in the next—

Ding.

It was pathetic how fast you bolted back to the kitchen to snatch up your phone. 

Bradley: Absolutely. Tomorrow at noon sound okay?

y/n: sounds perfect

Unbeknownst to you, Bradley had also been waiting anxiously for your text, digging his phone out of his pocket the second he felt it buzz, hoping his not-so-subtle way of slipping you his number wasn't too forward of him. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that stretched his lips as his eyes read your text over and over again. It would be perfect. 

Now if he could only figure out how to actually work the goddamn coffee machine, it would be even better. 

[iloveprettyboysblog]

The Golden Boy 💛💛💛

[simpforrooster]

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.

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold IV {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

or- the one where they break each other's hearts.

word count- 3200+

part one

part two

part three

Scout spends the better part of her Saturday evening declining drinks from what she can only assume are some of San Diego’s finest gentlemen. So, she is surprised to find that come one o’clock in the morning, her entire world is spinning on its axis with no intention of letting up anytime soon. She reckons it might have been the three tequila shots taken at her grade partner (and dear friend) Lou’s behest. It could also have had something to do with the whiskey flight she consumed that Lou had ordered but never actually touched. Whatever it was, has led her out into the balmy evening air, with her finger poised precariously above Rooster’s phone number.

All the text messages he’d sent since the last time they shared dinner, had gone woefully unanswered. Scout could easily pin the blame on ‘end of the year chaos’ but something told her he’d see right through it. Someone bumps into her from behind just then, causing her finger to graze the number and with a sudden gasp, she hits decline. For a moment she thinks she’s successful; the moment passes, and her phone begins to vibrate with Rooster’s incoming call.

“Hello?” She hiccups.

“Scout, are you alright?” He immediately sounds concerned.

Fighting the bile rising in her throat, she takes a breath of fresh air, but all she gets is a lungful of acrid cigarette smoke- compliments of the young woman standing a little too close to her.

“Hey, I know this is a long shot because we haven’t spoken in a while and it’s totally okay if you can’t because of Frankie, but I was wondering if you would be able to pick me up?”

If she were any less inebriated, she might have heard his feet hitting the hardwood floor beneath his bed. She might have heard him bounding down the staircase, or the jangle of his car keys as he fished them out of the ceramic bowl in the front hallway.

“Frankie’s with Mav and Penny tonight. Where exactly are you?”

Scout turns to the person beside her and asks where they are. “I think it’s called the Whiskey House?”

She hears the Bronco roar to life in the background. “Alright, hang tight Scout. I’ll be there in about thirteen minutes, give or take.”

A sudden rush of loud music emanates from the open door as Lou stumbles out next to her. She wraps her arms around her frame and kisses her cheek, and Scout’s grateful for the cuddle as it helps to ward off the evening chill.

“How are ya, kiddo?” Lou asks.

A violent shiver wracks her before she hiccups and says, “I’ve been better. Who knew tequila and whiskey weren’t friends?”

Lou laughs. “We’ve always known that haven’t we? But rules go out the window when we play.” Reaching into her clutch, she retrieves a cigarette, positions it between her perfectly stained lips and lights it. “How will you get home?”

Scout’s bashful gaze travels to the ground and Lou laughs, breathlessly.

“You absolute minx. You called him, didn’t you?”

Scout’s cheeks burn and she nods. “Yeah. I did.”

“Good for you,” Lou takes a drag off her smoke and nods her head in approval. “He’s a good egg, Scout.”

Scout swallows. “How can you tell?”

Lou’s gaze drifts to her; there is something unreadable in those beautiful orbs of hers. “Well, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve built up walls around your heart. And for good reason, I suppose.” She takes another drag and rests her head against the black brick of the building. “I can only imagine what losing a husband does to someone. But for as much as you want to resist it, you have let him, and Frankie dismantle some of those walls.���

Scout wants to say something else, but a wave of vertigo washes over her and she must lean against the wall to keep from losing her balance. The Bronco rolls to a stop in front of the bar. Rooster cuts the engine and joins Lou and Scout outside the entrance. And- goddamn, the man is a sight for sore eyes.

“Fun night?” He simpers and leans in to give Lou a quick hug. “Happy birthday, Miss Rutherford. Do you have a ride home?”

Lou ashes out the rest of her cigarette beneath the heel of her worn cowboy boot. “Sure do, thanks Rooster.”

“Of course.” His gaze travels to Scout’s, assessing her level of inebriation. “Let’s get you home, hmm?”

Lou presses another kiss to Scout’s cheek. “See you on Monday, sweet Scout. I do love you.”

Scout grins drunkenly at her friend. “I hope that you had the best birthday, Loumeister.”

Rooster helps her into the passenger seat, gently buckles her in and then settles in beside her. She mumbles her address to him, and then they’re off. Halfway through the ride, she asks if she can have the window down, knowing that the cool evening air will do wonders for the waves of nausea roiling in her belly. Rooster does as he’s asked and then says, “Scout if you think you’re going to be sick, you need to let me know, alright? Because I can pull over, I just need to know.”

She shakes her head, already feeling much better with the brisk saltwater breeze in her face.

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t be sick.” She murmurs, sleepily.

The term of endearment had been an accidental slip, but if she had been any less inebriated, she would have seen the smile that nearly split Rooster’s face in half.

When he gently shakes her awake fifteen minutes later, she is disoriented. He helps her from the car and holding her by the hand, leads her up the stone path to the front door of her duplex. When she drops the keys twice trying to fit them into the lock, he picks them up, unlocks the door, and follows her into the front foyer. Shrugging the jean jacket from her shoulders, he hangs it up in the front hall closet and follows her down the darkened hallway to her bedroom.

“I should go.” He murmurs.

And that’s the last thing that she wants, so she tries her luck a final time. “Please don’t.”

Regarding her in the low morning light, he finally relents. “Okay, Scout. I won’t.”

She tells him to come in after sixty seconds have passed. Shutting the door behind her, she frantically kicks stray pieces of clothing under her bed. Changing into a pair of pajama pants and a worn tank top, Rooster enters her room just after she’s thrown the last sock into the wicker hamper by her bed. She taps the space of made-up sheets next to her. “Let’s talk.” She yawns.

Rooster hesitates but does as he’s told and settles down next to her. “I’m not sure how much talking we’re about to do.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so silent lately.” Scout whispers.

Rooster shakes his head. “No apologies.”

She gazes at him, and though her thoughts are the farthest they’ve been from sharp in a long time, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone more clearly.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?” He whispers, his honeyed voice is thick with the weight of looming sleep.

Scout smiles. “You have the most beautiful eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

The smile fades from Rooster’s face, and the razor-thin scars on his cheeks stand out amongst the blush that floods them.

“Thank you for picking me up tonight.”

Rooster nods against the pillow. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Oh, poppycock.” Scout yawns.

“Poppycock? What are you, eighty?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You look amazing for eighty.”

She attempts a wink. “My plastic surgeon is a wizard.”

It’s silent for a little while before Rooster clears his throat. “That’s what we are though, Scout. We’re friends. And there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a friend.”

And in her alcohol-induced drowsiness, Scout doesn’t realize she’s mumbled, “But I’ve always wanted more than that with you, Rooster,” out loud.

She wakes up the next morning to a dull throbbing behind her eyes- nothing a strong cup of coffee can’t remedy. The expanse of the bed next to her is empty, and she wonders if she dreamt Rooster had been there with her at all. It had seemed so real at the moment; the heady warmth of his hand in hers, the subtle dip in the mattress from his weight as he laid down beside her. She wonders then, with a fleeting feeling of shame, if she had said something to him in the clutches of whiskey that made him leave. With a sigh, she gets out of bed in search of coffee. To her amazement, Rooster is seated at the kitchen island, and when he sees her, he sets his phone down and offers her a slow smile.

“I was beginning to wonder when you might surface.”

She stands on tiptoes to retrieve two mugs from the cupboard beside the fridge.

“I thought I’d dreamt you.”

He clears his throat. “You didn’t. But if you require further confirmation, I could pinch you.”

She laughs. “No need. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, please.”

It’s silent in the kitchen while she focuses most of her energy on making their drinks. There are a million things she could say, but none of them feel quite right so she settles for, “I’m sorry for last night.”

Rooster waves it off. “It’s not a problem, Scout. I was happy that you got a hold of me- happy to know that I was able to take you to a safe place.”

When she turns to view him in the growing morning light, she wonders for the first time, what it would have been like to meet him at the right time. She does her best then, to ignore the voice in her head that says, but now is the right time, Scout.

“Can I be honest with you about something, Scout?” Rooster asks.

She tries to fend off the sudden feeling of unease as she pours cream into her coffee. Joining him at the island, she slides his mug over and nods her head.

He purses his lips as if trying to figure out the best way to go about it all. “I don’t think that I can be just friends with you.”

Scout knows then that this is it; knows that if she can’t decide one way or the other, she will likely lose him and Frankie forever.

Rooster clears his throat. “And friends would be one thing- but Scout, I can’t even get you to respond to my messages.” Guilt manifests as a hard lump in the hollow of her throat. “I’m laying this all out on the line for you because I’ve had my fair share of loss and it’s made me hyper-aware of what I want for my life, and what I don’t want.”

She’s on the precipice of throwing it all in for him; she was there last night. But something is holding her back. Perhaps it’s the idea of finally having everything she’s ever dreamed of, and then having it all ripped away in the blink of an eye again that scares her so much.

“I was pregnant,” Scout says, softly. And she isn’t doing this for sympathy; she’s doing it because if she doesn’t get it off her chest, it may just crush her one day.

Rooster blanches and the color drains from his face.

She continues, knowing that if she stops, she may never start again. “I found out two weeks before Beau passed. I had meant to tell him, but then the mission happened, and I figured it would have been a pretty good welcome home surprise.” Scout swallows. “But then he died, and every fibre of my being wanted to die too. But I had the baby to think of. Even though it was only ever just going to be the two of us, I knew we’d be alright.” She clears the emotion building in her throat. “But when I went in for my next scan, they failed to find a heartbeat. And when I left the clinic that afternoon, it was just me again.”

Sorrow washes from Rooster in palpable waves.

“So, I know a thing or two about loss as well, Rooster. I know what it can rob a person of.”

Time, love, life.

“I am so sorry, Scout.”

She shakes her head. “That’s life Rooster. It’s no one’s fault. But I’m not there yet; I don’t think I’m capable of giving you and Frankie the kind of love you deserve.”

Words are meaningless after that; the shattered look in Rooster’s eyes says everything he can’t. He parts only after he's pressed a last, lingering kiss on her cheek. Scout feels the sharp knife of his absence immediately; where sunshine followed in his wake, a shadow now looms over her. She retreats to the darkened stillness of her room, crawling back under the weighted protection of her covers. After a while, her eyelids grow heavy and she gives in to the alluring siren song of sleep.

When she stirs awake hours later, her room is still bathed in the same indigo hue from the morning. She reaches over to the space of bed beside her, where Rooster’s body had been hours earlier and the ache to have him back in her orbit again is almost overwhelming. Something flips inside of her; and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s en route to Rooster’s house. She’s had the entire ride there to formulate what she would say to him when she saw him again, but the minute he opens the door to her, any semblance of an explanation evaporates into thin air. She almost expects him to be angry with her, but he’s anything but.

“I’d be out of my mind to let the two of you go, Rooster.”

This is me, laying everything out on the line for you.

In one swift motion, he has her pinned against the wall of the front hallway. His warm, slightly calloused hands (a product of working on planes in his spare time) caress her face as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His lips hover mere inches away from her own, and she shivers in anticipation as his breath washes over her in warm waves. He searches her gaze for anything in her eyes that might tell him to stop, and when he doesn’t find it, he gets closer to her still.

A small, wet cough sounds in the distance behind them, and Rooster pulls away from her as if he’s touched fire.

“Papa, I threw up.”

Frankie’s raw, fragile voice shatters the tension as if it were glass. Her Moana nightgown is covered in pink vomit, almost as if someone had thrown a full bottle of pepto bismol at her.

Rooster's transition into dad mode is seamless as he bends down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

His sympathetic gaze travels to Scout’s. “Do you mind getting her into the tub while I change her bed?”

Scout shakes her head. “Not at all,” She walks over to where Frankie stands and takes hold of her small, clammy hand. “Come on, Frankie. I know just what to do to help you feel better.”

Once in the bathroom, Scout helps Frankie rid herself of her soiled nightgown and gets her into the warm, bubble-filled bath. She watches the little girl carefully, searching for any sign that she may be sick again. “How’s your tummy doing, Frank?” She asks.

Frankie settles back into the lavender suds and sighs. “It’s much better now, Scout. I think I ate too much bubblegum ice cream before bed.”

Scout lets out a small, relieved laugh. “I’d say so.”

They’re quiet a moment before Frankie asks why Scout’s at their house so late.

Scout shrugs. “I missed you guys.” And it’s god’s honest truth.

This answer seems to satiate her because all she says in response is, “We missed you too, Scout.”

By the time she’s finished getting her cleaned up, Frankie’s eyes have started closing on their own volition. Scout manages to get her out of the tub, dried off and into fresh pajamas before she’s comatose. Rooster tucks his girl in, and they’re about to leave before Frankie’s tiny, mouse-like voice rings out into the humid air before them. “Please stay, Scout.”

“Of course I will, Frankie.” She squeezes Rooster’s hand, knowing that as soon as the little girl is asleep, she’ll find her way to his room.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Rooster smiles. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Alright, scooch over kid,” Scout whispers, climbing into bed next to her. Frankie’s head fits perfectly into the rounded nook of her shoulder blade, and the notion of it causes a happy tear to gather in the corner of her eye.

“Will you tell me a story Scout?”

She realizes now that the chances of ever denying Frankie of anything are entirely non-existent. “Anything you want, Frank.”

A persistent banging on the front door downstairs jolts Scout from a surprisingly sound sleep. She waits to see if the noise has roused Rooster yet, and when it doesn't, she peels herself from under Frankie’s impossibly warm body to investigate. Tiptoeing down the stairs, the banging grows ever louder. “I’m coming!” She calls out, somewhat irritated. It can’t be any later than seven o’clock in the morning. With a sigh, she swings open the door to reveal a beautiful, waifish blonde woman on the front porch. They stare at each other expectantly, and the longer Scout looks, the more she realizes how much Frankie resembles this woman.

“Can I help you?” Scout asks.

The woman scoffs. She’s about to answer when Frankie’s girlish squeal reveals her identity.

“Mommy!”

Scout doesn’t have time to register this information before the woman pushes past her to gather Frankie into her tan arms. She peppers the little girl with kisses and then turns to Scout, her expression disgusted.

“I’m Frankie’s mother. I’m taking care of her until Bradley returns from some sort of work thing.”

A mission.

An invisible trapdoor opens beneath Scout and she’s powerless to do anything but tumble right down through it.

Rooster appears from out of nowhere then, his beautiful brown eyes wide with shock and anger. “Sara, we’ve been over this before; you cannot just show up here like this,” His helpless gaze travels to Scout’s. “Scout, I can explain, just please don’t leave.” He pleads.

Scout’s mouth is void of any moisture; she couldn’t bring herself to say much even if she wanted to. She grabs the car keys next to Rooster’s and turns to Frankie, and all she can manage is, “You feel better today, Frank?”

The little girl nods her head, with tears swimming in her eyes.

Scout swallows back her own tears. “That’s good. Remember to tell Papa to keep on top of your medicine if your tummy starts hurting again, okay?”

Frankie nods and reaches both arms out for Scout to take her. Scout shakes her head, clears her throat and kisses her goodbye.

She doesn’t allow her tears to fall the way they need to until she’s put as much distance between herself and Rooster Bradshaw as possible.

[call-sign-jinx]

Endless Love (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw) - Chapter 1

summary - Y/N Y/L/N and Bradley Bradshaw have had a rivalry ever since they both attended the same academy. Every chance they took, they always tried to one up each other. One day, Bradley takes the rivalry too far and Y/N ends up in the hospital with serious injuries. Will it make Y/N want to get him back twice as worse? Or will it make her realise that this rivalry between them is childish?

warnings - swearing, enemies to lovers, mention of serious injury, traumatic episodes, reader traumatised from what happened, smut, slowburn, seizures, flashbacks

Main Masterlist Bradley ”Rooster” Bradshaw Masterlist

a/n - hello my lovelies! this is not the original first chapter becos i was a knobhead and accodentally deleted it so i'm going have to rewrite it ahaha. anyways, ta ta! xx

I had moved to San Diego from Manchester, England to get into the academy that would lead me to entering Top Gun. That was 2 years ago. I am now officially part of the Top Gun and I am dead fucking proud.

However, the first official day at Top Gun is tomorrow. Everyone who was accepted made a group chat and we all arranged to go to The Hard Deck to meet everyone and break the ice.

I'm driving in my red Toyota S2000, There It Go by Juelz Santana blasting through my speakers and the roof down. I've began to enjoy living in America, although I do miss my home back in Manchester.

I finally arrive at The Hard Deck, park my car, put the roof up and lock the doors. I make my way to the door, but suddenly two tall and muscular men burst through the door carrying a slightly smaller man. I pay them no mind and go into the bar.

I look around and when I see the khaki uniforms that we all have to wear I made my way over. I looked around the group and saw a woman with dark hair pulled back into a bun and brown eyes. I sighed in relief and made my way over to her.

"Thank god that there's another woman, I could not deal with all the testosterone on my own." The woman chuckled as she stook her hand out for me to shake.

"I'm Phoenix, you can call me Nat if you want though." I shake her hand a give her a warm smile.

"I'm Vandal, but you can call me Y/N." After making some small talk with her I buy a double whiskey from the bar and make my way back to Nat.

"What do we have here?" A cocky and arrogant voice boomed throughout the room. I turned to look at who it was and saw a tanned, blonde man standing in front of me and Nat.

"Vandal. You?" I raise a brow at him, I could tell he was the type of guy to immediately thinking he is the best out of all of us.

"Hangman. But you can call me Jake." He winked at me and I fake gagged at him. The smile faltered slightly but then he took a step closer to me and aligned his mouth to my ear.

"Just know you're missing out on one hell of a night Sugar." Nat punched him in his shoulder lightly and he flinched back.

"Back off Bagman, you're more passed around than a cigarette." Me and Nat laugh and he mocks hurt. He puts his hand on his chest and fake cries.

"Words hurt Phoenix." After actually talking to some of them, the door bursts open. Everyone turns to the door to look whose made such a ruckus.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. Great.

We make eye contact and he smirks. He weaves through the crowd until he's about 3 feet in front of me. I could smell his shitty cologne from here, God it smelled disgusting.

"What are you doing here Shortcake?" That nickname made my stomach churn. He was so fucking aggravating.

"Well, seeing as I'm a damn good pilot, they asked me to join Top Gun. What you doing ere? Seeing what could've been?" I raise my eyebrow and curl my lip at him.

We always had a rivalry every since I joined the same academy as he did. We immediately started this sort of rivalry type thing. Well, he started it. Never found out why he never liked me.

"Actually, Sweetheart. I was asked to come to Top Gun as well." He had the smuggest look on his face I wanted to punch it right off. Prick.

"Well that's surprising, didn't know they'd let just about anyone into Top Gun." Bradshaw rolled his eyes and walked away to go meet the other guys.

"I sense some tension." Nat said in a sing-songy voice. Oh God not her too.

"Absolutely not, I do not like him one single bit. And he feels the same way about me." Nat raised a brow with a cheeky side-smile.

"Then what is going on between you two? Did one of you not call the other back?" Nat asked in a slight baby voice while pouting.

"We've just never liked each other, we always try to one up each other all the time. He treats it as a game, but I just want to be the best." Nat nodded and still had the side smile on her face.

"I just know you two are eventually going to go home together. It always happens like that." My eyes become as wide as golf balls. Absolutely not! Never! I told myself as I practically choked on my drink.

"Absolutely not! Now instead, let's enjoy our night before we have to wake up at the break of fucking dawn tomorrow." Nat nods in agreement as we head over to the bar.

This is going to be a long few weeks. Especially with Bradshaw here.

[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

[topgun-imagines]

Say My Name

Requested: no

Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.

Word count: 3.4k

Note: banner by @lewmagoo

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.

His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.

The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.

“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.

Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.

Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.

Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.

Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.

Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.

The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious

Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.

The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.

You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.

“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.

You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.

Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.

Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.

As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.

The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.

Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.

Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.

“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.

The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”

The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.

After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.

You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.

His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.

For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.

The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.

With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.

For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.

Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.

Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.

“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.

One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.

Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.

“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.

You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.

“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.

Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.

Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.

This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.

Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.

Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.

In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @nyx2021 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @aviatorobsessed @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @xoxabs88xox @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @rey26 @lt-spork @callsign-ember @tim-thefrog @zombi3wh0r3 @cheyrenee @nyctophilic0vitnir @labellapeaky @skylineskyler

Join my taglist!