#rooster bradshaw x fem!reader

[familyvideostevie]

october fifteenth

day fifteen: bradley "rooster" bradshaw after a hookup, you and bradley spend an unexpected night together | friends to lovers, only one bed, 18+, mdni, fem!reader, sex, porn WITH plot | 3.7k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, rooster jacks off in the shower, dirty talk, mentioned oral (m receiving, f receiving, doesn't happen on the page), fingering, p in v sex)

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was meant to be much easier.

A full day of driving: San Diego to Napa in 10 hours, if you’re lucky. But Bradley is a good driver and it was cheaper than flying this time of year if you split gas and you really thought it would be fine. That’s what you told yourself.

“Fucking Nat,” you mutter, inaudible over the pounding of the rain on the windshield. Of course she had to have her fucking birthday party — which is really just a party with the other aviators and you — in Napa, of all places. Of course she’d suggest you and Bradley drive together.

Of fucking course.

“I think we’re going to have to call it,” Bradley says. He’s white knuckling the wheel, which can’t be a good sign considering he flies million dollar jets for a living. “This isn’t going to get any better and I’m worried we’ll get stranded if we wait too long to pull off.”

It really is pouring. It started a half hour ago and hasn’t let up since. And now it’s dark and you can barely see in front of you with the headlights on.

“Yeah, okay.”

He pulls off at the next exit — you think you’re somewhere south of San Francisco, maybe near Carmel? You look for a motel on your phone as the car crawls down the empty exit ramp.

“There’s a Days Inn in .5 miles if you turn…right?” you tell him. “That work?” Bradley doesn’t look at you, eyes focused on the road. His jaw is tense.

“Is that okay for you?” You’re not sure what he’s implying. At this point, you don’t really care where you stop as long as you do.

“Cheap is fine,” you say. “I just want to sleep.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up for just a second. “Me too. Maybe we can order food, or something. I’m starved.” He’s always hungry.

“Okay.”

Rooster is a good guy. You know it, everyone knows it. Nat knows you have a bit of a thing for him, which is why you’re in this car. What she doesn’t know is that you and Bradley…got drunk at the last Hard Deck theme night and made out in the bathroom. You had his tongue in your mouth and your legs around his waist and his hand on your breast and you felt him through your thin shorts and. Well. What Nat doesn’t know is you remember all of it in excruciating detail, the sounds he made, the way he groaned your name, his hands on your skin, and Bradley, it seems, remembers none of it. He has not called you or brought it up since.

Is that bad? Not really. Maybe he doesn’t remember. You were both pretty drunk, though you distinctly remember him asking you Are you sure? as he hoisted you onto the bathroom counter. But whatever. Maybe he regrets it and is saving face because you’re all friends and it would make things awkward, especially before Nat’s big weekend. Maybe he doesn’t like you at all and he’s embarrassed. You’re not about to ask him and find out when you still have hours on the road together.

The Days Inn is a typical California motel — doors on the outside, mercifully covered by an overhang. Rooster parks as close to the reception office as he can. “I’ll go get rooms and then park wherever they are,” he tells you. “Stay here?”

“Not going anywhere.” Neither of you have raincoats so he just takes a deep breath and then shoves the door open and makes a run for it. You sigh.

God damn. He really was a good kisser. Sitting next to him for the last few hours hasn’t been awkward, not really, but you’ve had to stop yourself from staring. At his chorded forearms, the tan expanse of his neck. His hands, the memory of them pressing into your hips hard enough to bruise, his thumb rubbing your nipple through your shirt that night —

Fuck. He’s been nothing but nice to you, which somehow makes it worse. He ghosted you, maybe without knowing, and all you want to do is touch him. It’s driving you insane.

The car door opens and you jump a little, eyes flying open. You hadn’t realized you’d closed them.

“Sorry,” Bradley says. “Good news and bad news.” He turns in his seat so he’s facing you as much as he can. He shivers a little. He must be cold. “They have…a room,” he says slowly. “And it’s, uh, only one bed. A queen.”

“Oh,” you say. You can’t think of a single other word.

“Yeah,” he continues. He runs a hand through his wet hair. “She said that everyone is booked up because of the storm. I got the room, but I can tell her we don’t want it and we can keep driving if you want, find somewhere else around here. Or I can just sleep on the floor, obviously, but I don’t want you to —”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “Bradley, it’s fine. No big deal. We can share the room and the bed.” He blinks and you look anywhere but his face. “It isn’t safe to keep driving and we’re both tired and need something to eat.” The bed, though…you’re not sure what to think of your offer but it’s too late to take it back now.

He nods once, a sharp jerk of his chin. A drop of water runs down his nose. “Okay.” He drives around to the back of the hotel and parks in front of what you assume is your room. “Ready?”

You grab your bags from the back seat and throw open the door, hopping out and running the few feet until you’re under the overhang. Only a few seconds and you still feel like you’re soaked.

Bradley unlocks the door with an rusty key on a blue tag and gestures for you to go in. “There’s a local pizza place that’ll deliver in this,” he says, locking the door behind you. “At least the reception lady thinks so. I have their number and I can call them?”

You keep talking to each other in questions, like you’re both unsure of yourselves. It’s…strange. You put your stuff down on the — yep, one — bed and sit, toeing off your wet shoes.

“Whatever you want is fine.” You shiver. “I’m cold so I’m going to, uh, take a shower. Unless you want to?” A question again.

Bradley shakes his head. “No, you go. Get warm. I’ll go after.”

You grab the first comfortable and dry thing from your bag you can find and bring it into the bathroom with you. Fuck. How are you going to do this?

The shower does wonders to warm you up but you can hear Bradley’s voice through the wall, low and steady as he talks to the pizza place. Your hand drifts down your stomach, ghosts between your legs before you yank it away. No. Get it together. You’re friends.

Enough of that. You towel off and put on your clothes only to find that you…didn’t bring your shorts into the bathroom with you. You stare at your underwear and t-shirt hopelessly as if it’ll make them appear. “Are you fucking kidding me,” you say. You could use your hair towel and wear it like a skirt but your hair is wet and your t-shirt is white and the only other towel in here is for Bradley. “This cannot be real,” you tell your reflection.

Nothing to be done, it seems. You’re going to have to go out there in only a t-shirt that barely hangs past your ass.

So you do. Bradley clears his throat. You glance at him and he shifts in the chair he’s in at the tiny table. “Pizza should be here soon,” he says, gruffly. His eyes don’t seem to know where to land. “I’m going to shower.”

He’s up and through the door before you can say anything. “Okay, then,” you mutter. You dig in your bag for your sleep shorts and…can’t find any. Great. You’re going to share a bed with him in only a t-shirt.

Someone rings the doorbell and you abandon all pretense and take the towel from your head and wrap it around your waist. The peephole reveals it to be the pizza, so you open the door and a teenager hands it to you without a word and runs back to his car.

“Thanks!” you call. You set it on the table and hear the shower still running. “Pizza’s here!” you yell through the wall.

Bradley makes a noise that sounds like a curse. “Go ahead!” he shouts back.

“Fine,” you say to the empty room. “Don’t mind if I do.” You crack open the box and see that he’s gotten all the stuff you like. You have no idea how he knows that.

You’ve had two pieces by the time he comes out. It’s like a fucking porno the way the door opens and steam rushes out to reveal Bradley, shirtless and damp, a towel wrapped around his waist. The temperature of the room seems to shoot up exponentially.

You fist one hand in the towel you’ve draped across your lap and don’t even try to look away. “Forgot my clothes out here,” he mutters. You don’t say anything. You watch the muscles of his back flex, watch the water drip down his shoulder blades. You can see the v of his hips, the hair that disappears under the towel.

You wonder how big his dick is.

Good god. Cut it out.

He rifles through his own bag and you watch that, too. You swallow and press a palm to your cheek. God, you’re flustered. There’s no way you can sleep next to him like this. You have to face it head on.

“Bradley,” you say. Your voice is lower than you’d expected.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Do you remember that night at the Hard Deck?”

He stills for just a second, so quick that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t staring at him.

“Which one? We’re there a lot.”

Okay, that’s it. You stand, leaving the towel on the chair as you walk across the scratchy carpet to stand right behind him.

“C’mon,” you say, serious now. “You know that I’m talking about.”

He turns around and seems a little startled to see you so close. His eyes rake down your form and linger on your bare legs before snapping up to your face.

“Do you remember it?” he asks. His hands are fists at his sides.

You are getting frustrated. “Well, I’m asking, aren’t I? Why haven’t we talked about it?”

“You were drunk!” he says, exasperated. He runs his hands through his hair, biceps flexing in a way that makes you press your thighs together even tighter. “I took advantage of you!”

The laugh that comes out of you is like a bark. “You did not,” you say. “You didn’t, Bradley, I remember it all and I wanted it all.” It’s true. You were drunk, but if anything it gave you the courage to rub your ass against him on the dance floor, to take his hand and drag him to the bathrooms, to read his blown pupils for desire.

He looks stressed. “Nat said you were throwing up like, twenty minutes later!”

You wince. Yeah, that did happen, but that was on you. “That was an ill-timed shot and too many chicken wings,” you admit.

Bradley tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, sighing your name. You want to lick the vein in his neck.

You reach out and put your palm on his bare abdomen. His muscles contract and you feel it as well as see it. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “If you want to forget it, just tell me,” you say softly. “If it was a mistake or your embarrassed to have done it with me—”

His hand circles your wrist. “No,” he says firmly. “No.” Softer this time. “I don’t regret it. It wasn’t…I—” He takes a breath that you feel. “I just thought I fucked it all up.”

“Fucked what all up?” The air in the room is still hot but it’s like time has stopped. Like nothing apart from you two matters.

“My chance with you,” he says softly. Bradley looks at you, pupils blown but with such a raw expression it takes your breath away. This man is so much more than he appears.

“Oh,” you breathe. “No, I don’t think you did.” He couldn’t. You don’t know what it would feel like to not want him.

He releases your wrist and reaches for your face, his wide palms settling on your jaw. You close your eyes and wait for him to commit, wait for him to finish what he started, and he does. His lips are light on yours at first but once you press back it turns into something firmer. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands move, one sliding under your shirt to grab your bare hip and the other winding in your hair.

The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth until his lips trail down your neck. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that night,” he pants, nipping and soothing with his tongue.

“I’ve wanted more than that,” you gasp. You grasp his biceps for dear life.

“Oh yeah?” His fingers brush the bottom of your breast. “If it’s a competition, I’m winning,” he rasps in your ear. “I had to jack off in the shower just now after you came out here in a t-shirt.”

You groan. You actually groan at his words. You slide one hand down his damp skin until you find the edge of the towel still around his waist. “Can I?”

“Yes,” he hisses. You tug on it and it gives, falling to the ground at your feet. You look down and find his cock already hard, ruddy and weeping, demanding your attention.

“See how badly I want you?” Bradley backs you up until your knees hit the bed and you sit down suddenly. And there he is, naked head to toe, chest flushed and heaving and all you’ve done is kiss. You get an eye full — he’s big, no surprise there — as he takes himself in hand and strokes, eyes fluttering shut. Your clench around nothing. He’s going to ruin you.

“Let me do that,” you say. Maybe he’ll let you suck him off. You can imagine his weight on your tongue, his hands in your hair as you gag around him.

“Won’t last long,” he pants. “Next time.”

Next time. That sounds nice. You scoot back on the bed, shoving your bag to the floor, and pull off your shirt. It goes flying somewhere that doesn’t matter. Bradley groans, stroking himself slowly as he watches you. “Look at you,” he says. “Better than I imagined.”

He goes back to his bag to dig through it a bit desperately and you stretch out on the bed. It he doesn’t touch you soon you might die. You spread your legs wide and look down to find a wet spot on your panties. Fuck. He’s hardly touched you and you’re soaked.

Your fingers work their way under the damp material and you run them through your folds and sigh with pleasure, eyes fluttering. “What did you imagine?” you ask.

“All sorts of things,” he says. “I’m very creative.” He makes a triumphant noise and holds up a condom. His eyes narrow when he sees what you’re doing on the bed. “Fuck. I —” He swallows. His cock twitches. “Do you want to?”

“Oh, I want you to fuck me, Bradley.” His nostrils flare. “Like, right now.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters. He saunters over to the bed looking better than your best wet dream. “You have no idea how goddamn good you look right now. Can you take those off for me, sweetheart?”

The pet name coincides with the pads of your fingers brushing your clit and you moan. Right now, you’re pretty sure you will do anything he asks of you. You pull your panties off and toss them.

“Spread for me,” he says. You do and he puts his hands on the insides of your thighs and just looks. It makes you a little shy but you also feel…powerful. There is hunger in his gaze, raw want and desire. He licks his lips and strokes your skin. “Here’s my plan,” he says.

You throw an arm over your eyes. Always a man with a plan.

“I’m going to fuck you with my fingers first,” he says. His fingertips trail up your thigh and you squirm. One of them brushes your clit ever so slightly. “And then I’ll fuck you properly until you scream.” His thumb presses down on it. You keen, high and long. Bradley ignores it. “And then we’ll eat more pizza and then I’ll have desert.”

His hands disappear and you whine. “Do I get some, too?” Bradley laughs and despite the situation, the filthy, filthy things he’s saying, it sounds genuine. You pull your arm away to look at him. He tosses the condom on the bedside table.

“You get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He kneels on the bed, crawls up your body and kisses you deeply. You feel him hot and hard against your stomach. “Does that sound good?”

You nod. “Get to it, Lieutenant.”

He groans like you’ve touched him. Bradley kisses you firmly, his mustache scratchy in the most delicious way as he licks into your mouth. One of his hands pays attention your nipples and the other slips down your stomach to your folds.

“God,” he says against your jaw. “You’re so wet.” He circles your clit a few times before pressing one finger inside you. You know right away it’s not enough. You fist one hand in the sheets and the other in his hair. “Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. All for me.”

“More,” you groan. “More, please.” You think he might tease you but he obeys right away, giving you another one as he starts to fuck you with them. You’re so wet that it’s making filthy noises as you writhe under his touch.

If you had more presence of mind you’d try to make it good for him, too, jerk him or at least pay him some kind of attention, but you’re barely hanging on. He ruts against your thigh as your pleasure builds.

You grab for him desperately, bringing his face as close as you can get it. “Fuck me,” you say. “Please, Bradley.”

Your plea seems to undo him. “Yeah?”

You nod frantically. He pulls away and you try to catch your breath as he tears open the condom and rolls it on. You keep your legs spread and he settles back between them, hands on your thighs as he looks at you again. “You’re so beautiful,” he says.

“That’s nice.” You arch your back. “Please fuck me now.”

He laughs again. His chest is flushed and damp, eyes bright and pupils blown. “Okay, sweetheart.”

He drags the head of his cock through your folds a few times before hitching one of your legs around his hip and pressing into you slowly, slowly, slowly.

“Talk to me,” he gasps.

He’s big, but you want him so badly that the stretch comes easy. It feels incredible. “Keep going, I—” It’s like you can feel every inch of him. Every vein, every ridge. You could lie here with his cock inside you forever. “God, how big are you?”

He laughs but it’s a rasp and a groan all in one. “Almost done, baby.”

“Baby,” you mock. You love it.

Bradley presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hush.”

Just when you’re starting to think that maybe you can’t take him, he bottoms out and you’re both panting.

He steadies himself over you and you hook your ankles behind his back and roll your hips.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “This might not go as long as I’d hoped.”

“Fine with me so long as you get going.” He presses his forehead to yours and starts to move, his hips going slow and then faster when you urge. His cock drags along your walls as he gets impossibly deep with every thrust. One of his huge hands presses into your side hard enough to bruise and you hold on for dear life.

The rain is probably still pounding outside but you don’t hear it over the smacking of his balls against your skin, the sound of your slick, your combined moans.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants, breath hot on your face. “Taking all of me, so tight—” He kisses you but it’s more like a desperate press of his mouth to yours.

“Bradley,” you manage. “Bradley I—” All words seem too far away, so you settle for chanting his name, your nails digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby,” he says. “So close, so close, yeah? Lemme feel you.”

One of his hands rubs roughly at your clit, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter and you can only get out one last gasp of his name before it snaps and you jerk in his hold, back arching and cunt spasming around him, clenching over and over.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, just like that, oh shit —” And then he’s chanting your name in a punched out voice and his thrusts become erratic. You come down from your high just as he begins his, body stilling above you as he thrusts, once, twice, then shudders.

He pulls out of you and flops to your side. You’re both sweaty and panting.

Bradley’s hand reaches blindly until he finds yours and kisses the back of it.

“Can I take you out?” he says. “When we get back?”

He just fucked you within an inch of your life and he’s asking you on a date?

You laugh, exhausted and thrilled. “Sure, Bradley.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[katsu28]

hi Kait!! might i be able to request "Black Dahlia - a lie" with Bradley bradshaw pleaseeee thank you!

ngl i think i got a little too carried away with this but man oh man did i have fun, pls enjoy!

black dahlia: a lie, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, rooster is a total simp, 2.3k

Rooster had a staring problem. Sometimes he spaced out in the middle of a training debrief without realizing he was looking straight at Phoenix the whole time, sometimes his furrowed brows made Maverick think he was angry at something when in reality he was just focused. Sometimes he creeped random people out because he just…didn’t know he was staring. 

But most times, the unsuspecting focus of his staring was you. There was just something about you that had his eyes searching for you in every room he entered, drew his eyes to you every time you entered. He just couldn’t help it. Everything about you, from the way you laughed, to the way that you said his name, to the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled at him. Even the way you elbowed him in the ribs when he made a terrible joke had him hooked on you. 

And you had no idea. 

“Rooster. Rooster, you didn't laugh at my—what are you even looking at?” Hangman sounded deflated, but once his eyes tracked Rooster’s line of sight to you he knew what was going on in that feathery nicknamed brain of his friend. He’d known it pretty much all along. It was an unspoken thing, but he knew. Everyone knew. Everyone except you, apparently. 

“Oh, I see it now. You don’t like my jokes as much as you like Y/N.”

Rooster tore his gaze from where you were chatting with Penny at the bar to see Hangman with his hands on his hips, looking entirely too smug. “Sorry, what?” His ears had picked up the blond man’s jest, but surely he’d heard it wrong. 

“There’s no shame in admitting it. You have a crush on her.” 

“I’m not ashamed, I’m just—” 

“So you do have a crush!” 

Rooster scowled, brows pinching in the middle as he gripped the neck of his beer a little tighter. “I’m a grown man, I don’t have a crush.” 

“So you’re in love.” 

“What? No, I’m not—we’re…friends, that’s it.” 

“You’re a terrible liar, Bradshaw.” Phoenix cut in, poking him in the gut with the end of her pool cue. “Cut the shit and let us know how you really feel.” 

There really wasn’t any way out of this other than to tell the truth, so he sighed. “Okay, so maybe—just maybe—I might possibly have some feelings for Y/N.” 

“Yeah, and those feelings are called love,” Hangman said smugly, an ever present smirk gracing his face once again. He wasn’t wrong. He was actually right on the money, but Rooster would be damned if he let that son of a bitch know he was right. 

“Screw you, Hangman. I’m not talking about this anymore.” 

He thought he must’ve sounded more serious than he’d intended, because Hangman actually shut up for once, zipping his lips with an imaginary key before miming throwing it over his shoulder. Phoenix just nodded, knowing well enough not to push her luck with the subject. 

Nothing about the conversation was mentioned the rest of the night, especially not when you’d made your way back over to the group of them and stayed for a while. Rooster almost forgot about it until a few days later. 

Flight training had let out for the day a little later than usual, nearing half past seven when the pilots were finally trailing into the parking lot to go home. 

“Up for a round at the Hard Deck, fellas?” Hangman offered. There were a few mumbled declines to the invitation scattered amongst the squad and he looked disappointed. Leave it to Hangman to still have energy for a beer after the grueling day they’d all just had. 

Rooster had half a mind to say no too. All he wanted to do was go home and sit on the couch and probably do nothing for the rest of the night, that’s how tired he was. He wandered towards where he’d parked the Bronco this morning, getting almost halfway there when he heard Hangman’s voice again. 

“Phoenix, c’mon, I know you’ll do me a solid this time. I’ll buy. I’ll even let you win at pool!” 

“No can do, Bagman, I’m in a time crunch—gotta get to Y/N’s house.” 

Upon hearing your name, Rooster froze, willing himself to walk away, but his curiosity won out very quickly. He turned around as casually as he could, hiking his duffel a little higher on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s fine. She asked to borrow a necklace for her date tonight, so I gotta pop over there before she heads out.” Phoenix shrugged, patting her jacket pocket. Rooster couldn’t help the way his eyebrows flew up in surprise and she noticed, knowing smile already gracing her lips. “Everything okay with you, Bradshaw?” 

“Fine. It’s, uh—no, yeah everything’s good.” He mumbled, clearing his throat. Hangman coughed from behind him, sounding suspiciously like ‘bullshit’, but Rooster paid him no mind. He was more focused on the fact you were going on a date with someone else. Someone that wasn’t him. 

Then again, who the fuck did he think he was, having some kind of bullshit thoughts about who you went out with. He had no right, he knew that. But that didn’t stop him from feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut. 

“Hey, why don’t I drop it off for you?” He blurted, pressing his lips into a thin smile. Phoenix looked confused. He was confused at himself too, honestly. What the hell was he doing? “I just, I mean your place is the opposite way and I’m gonna pass her neighborhood anyways, so…I can do it.” Now she looked amused. 

“Since when did you get all helpful and shit?” 

“Pretty sure I’ve always been helpful.” 

“You sure there’s no other reason why you’re volunteering to see her? None at all? Maybe one starting with L and rhyming with shove?” Hangman chimed in, grinning wickedly. Phoenix nodded in agreement, her smile now mirroring his. 

“I’ll shove you, Hangman. Shut up.” Rooster said sharply. He turned his gaze back to Phoenix. “No. No other reason. I’ll drop it off on my way home and that’s it.” 

It was a bold faced lie and he knew his friends saw right through it, but he didn’t really care. 

“Okay. Suit yourself.” She shrugged, fishing the necklace out of her pocket and pouring it into his outstretched hand. “Would ya look at that, Bagman? Looks like I’m free to beat you at pool after all.” 

“I’m not buying you a beer anymore, that was a one time offer and it’s expired,” Hangman protested, much to Phoenix’s chagrin because she scoffed. 

“Like hell it has! You promised a free beer and a win, I expect you to deliver. But make an effort to play fair, don’t just throw the game ‘cause that wouldn’t be a good look for me.” 

Rooster could hear their bickering until he hopped into his car, but he peeled out of the parking lot in a blink, on the move to you. 

He didn’t have a wisp of a plan in his mind when he pulled to a stop in front of your place. His hands shook where they were clenched around the steering wheel and he was sweating a little bit, but he had no idea what he was going to say to you. He just knew he needed to say something. 

Five minutes and countless unhelpful self pep talks later, Rooster was finally ringing the doorbell, necklace in his pocket but still no clearer on what his end goal was. His mind went even more blank when you opened the door, because shit, you were breathtaking. 

You had on a pretty dress in his favorite color and you were adjusting the strap of your heel when you laid eyes on him standing on your doorstep. Putting aside the confusion on your face at the sight of him and not Phoenix, Rooster would rank this as one of his favorite moments ever. 

“Bradley?” You sounded concerned, nose crinkled to match. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh…” He trailed off, probably sounding completely stupid as he blinked at you dumbfoundedly. You said his name again, a little louder this time, and he snapped out of it. 

He dug around in his pocket clumsily until his fingers closed around the delicate chain and pulled it out, letting it dangle from his hand as he held it out. “Nat asked me to swing this by on my way home from base.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually him who insisted on being the one to save the day. That would sound too weird, maybe even borderline creepy. 

Your eyes lit up at the sight of your awaited necklace and you beamed, beckoning him into your front hallway. “You’re the sweetest, Bradley. Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to detour.” 

“S’no problem. What’s a few more minutes on the road to help a friend?” 

“Maybe a few more minutes.” You said sheepishly, looking a tad embarrassed. “D’you—would you mind helping me put it on? I’ve never been good at clasping them on my own.” 

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Sure.” He moved behind you, trying not to inhale too sharply when you moved your hair off your neck. God, all he wanted to do was whirl you around and kiss you. Instead, he decided to make some small talk to get his mind out of where it shouldn’t have been in the first place. “So…you’re going on a date. With who? Maybe I know ‘em.” 

“Probably not. He’s not Navy, I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. His name’s Vinny. He’s a boxer.” 

Vinny. Sounded like an asshole name. 

“Didn’t know boxers were your type.” He said casually, working deftly to latch the tiny hook. 

“Yeah?” You sounded amused. “And what exactly do you think my type is?” 

Me, he wanted to say. But he held his tongue, instead opting for a noise of nonchalance. 

“That’s a shame. Would’ve thought you of all people would know.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ve always seemed to know me best.” You said simply. Rooster’s fingers fumbled the clasp in surprise. “When I’m down, you always know how to make me smile. When I’m upset, you seem to know exactly what’ll help. You know everything I like, everything I hate. You know me like the back of your hand. How is that?” 

“I…pay attention.” 

“So that means you know Hangman’s favorite song? Fanboy’s comfort movie? What about Phoenix and Bob’s secret handshake?” You weren’t facing him, so he had no idea if you were being serious or not, but he was stumped. 

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, brain scrambling for any shred of an excuse for not knowing any of those answers. He paid attention, yes, but only to you. Rooster’s fingers brushed along your bare shoulder softly in lieu of a response, too tender of a moment for two friends to be sharing. 

“Don’t go.” He breathed. You froze, and Rooster swore it was the longest few seconds in his life. But then you turned around, wide eyes searching for his. Your lips parted like you were about to say something, but he shook his head, inhaling a shaky breath. “Don’t go on that date.” 

“Why?” Your voice was impossibly quiet, so much so that he wouldn’t have heard you say anything at all had you not been this close to each other. 

“Because when Phoenix mentioned it, I felt like I’d just done an inverted dive. And not in a good way, I’m talking about the ‘I’m about to puke’ feeling. Because I can’t stop thinking about you even though I should be thinking about anything else, because I don’t know what I’d do if we weren’t friends. Because I don’t wanna be just friends anymore.” Rooster admitted, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. He was too far in now to quit and run away with his tail between his legs. This was happening, whether it was a good idea or not. “Because…I’m in love with you.” 

You just blinked at him slowly, processing his words the best you could. He could practically see the wheels turning in your head, and it did nothing to quell the ball of nerves turning over in the pit of his stomach. 

Forget what he was feeling earlier—this was definitely the longest few seconds of his life. It felt more like an eternity. 

He was about to apologize, to say sorry for dumping out his feelings for you right before you were about to go on a date with someone else, but you beat him to the punch with something much, much better. 

You grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and you kissed him. Hard. 

More surprised than anything, it took him a beat to register what was actually happening, but his hands slid around your waist to splay across your back when it finally sunk in. He backed you against the nearest wall, but took special care in slipping a hand behind your head so it didn’t bounce off it, all while never letting his mouth leave yours. Your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, roaming around the expanse of flexed muscle shifting under your palms. 

It wasn’t the perfect kiss. It was clumsy and messy and a little overexcited, but it was perfect to Rooster. He could only hope you were thinking the same. 

He finally (albeit reluctantly) pulled away a bit, just enough to give you some air. “What do you think? Are you—does this mean what I think it means?” 

You smiled, linking your hands behind his neck. “I think…I’ve come down with a nasty case of food poisoning and I need to cancel my date.” You said softly.

Rooster nodded solemnly. “And I think I should stay. Y’know, in case you need anything during this awful bout of said food poisoning.” 

“That’s a good idea.”

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[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to read this, but it’s so so so good. Gonna make me fall in love with Rooster all over again

Everything you write is literally a masterpiece

baby, i'm yours

in which you and bradley are in the same major and you're completely unaware of how much he adores you.

pairing is frat!bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

word count is 5.5k

author says stem major rooster supremacy <3

you should watch out for drinking, college au, language, party settings, mention of puking

title song is baby i'm yours // arctic monkey

bradley has never been the type to pine.

he had never been one for coveting from a distance, and why would he? bradley had grown up fighting for what he wanted. he had grown with an admirable, if not appalling, amount of confidence. bradley bradshaw had walked with a swagger that simply couldn’t be learned, and for the most part, it had gotten him what he wanted. sure, every once in a while he had to fight a little harder to get the girl, but he always got them in the end. until you.

you aren’t his type, that’s for sure, but something about you is impossible to shake. he’s spent at least three semesters staring at you from opposite ends of lecture halls, and maybe he likes you because you’re not his type. you seem conscientious, dedicated, and entirely uninterested.

it hurts the ego, sure, but bradley isn’t one to give up so easily. after all, you’ve only spoken once and he really hadn’t put his best foot forward. he should have known better, really, because you might be the only one in a nine am lecture who seems genuinely eager to understand enzyme kinetics. the idea of a frat party wouldn’t have interested you, and the offhanded invitation in the campus bookstore was met with a predictably tight smile and a, “yeah, maybe. thanks for the invite.” it’s the most polite blow-off he’s ever received.

that was august. now, spinning into the end of october, he’s been so embarrassed by his complete failure to accurately gauge your interests that he hasn’t even bothered to try again. he’s losing his nerve; more importantly, jake is convinced that bradley’s losing his masculinity. not that bradley has ever given a second thought to what jake thinks; he’s pretty sure that he could count all of jake’s iq points on his fingers, so he rarely gives weight to his opinion. 

and yet, he can’t let it go. he can’t stop watching you from across the room, wondering what you would do if he sat next to you. wondering if you ever watched him, too. wondering if you realized how, with one measly conversation under your belt, you’ve entirely captivated bradley bradshaw.

the virtue of having such a large student group in your major is that group projects aren’t a concern. it was one of the things you had so looked forward to when you were working through your generals, the idea of doing your own work on your own time, without the opinions of anyone else. and it’s a little isolating, somehow, that you can sit in two lectures a day, five days a week, with a hundred people each, and not say a word to anyone but callie. 

next to you, she pays little attention to the lecture, doodling in her notebook and scrolling through her phone. where you had been tirelessly devoted to your academics, callie had found a way to succeed without even trying. you take notes out of necessity, but it seemed like she picked up the information just as well by only half-listening to the lecture. as you scribble notes down in your notebook, your best friend nudges your elbow and tilts her phone toward you to show you a text. 

nat: halloween party @ pike on friday

nat: bob said the door’s open to everyone

you frown, spinning your pencil between your fingers and shaking your head. callie groans quietly, leaning in to whisper. “come on, it won’t be that bad.”

and no, it probably wouldn’t be. you had never been to the parties they were always pushing, but they couldn’t be terrible if nat and callie were there; further, anywhere nat was, so was bob, who you entirely adored. it wasn’t that you had no interest in the parties; you, more than any of your friends, needed to let loose. but even after three years, you couldn’t stand the idea of having to market yourself to your peers; why would you meet new people when you had already found your family?

“pike is full of dorks and nerds,” callie continues. “it probably won’t even be that busy.”

you shrug, and callie grins. the text that she sends into the group chat rings in on your laptop.

cal: we’re there!

your heart leaps into your throat when nat pushes you forward gently. both callie and natasha had assured you that the party likely wouldn’t have been too crowded. bob is just as surprised as you, whispering to nat, “have you ever seen it this packed?”

the four of you can barely move through the living room and you look over bob’s shoulder, ignoring the unhappy way your stomach churns. from the way callie had talked about it, you hadn’t thought it would be like this. heat hits you like a wall every time you walk into a new room and you’re already overwhelmed, between the endless stream of conversations and the pounding music pumping through the walls. 

bob spots reuben in the kitchen, and, already drunk, he greets all of you eagerly. it’s overfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. you’ll take any little bit of comfort you can get right now, and though you’ve only met reuben a few times, the hug he pulls you into is enough to calm you, even if just barely. 

“where is everyone?” bob asks over the music, clapping his friend on the back, and reuben blinks hard. 

“i think seresin and mickey are in the basement.”

a cheer rises through the crowd as someone pushes through the doorway into the kitchen and reuben’s attention is entirely lost. he’s vaguely familiar, somehow, with the kind of honey brunet hair that makes you wonder if it’s entirely natural and a smile that’s contagious. he drops two cases of beer, stacked on top of one another, onto the already crowded island, and callie leans into you and nat. 

“who is that?”

bob laughs and nat raises a brow. you’re glad that she asked because you know him, you think. a little more selfishly, something about him naturally draws you in; he has the same undeniable charisma that you think all frat boys must possess to a certain extent. it rarely works on you, and maybe it wouldn’t work if he turned it on you, but watching him greet everyone around him, passing out beers with compliments and laughter makes you a little giddy the same way all blooming attractions do, with a turn of the stomach at the end of the realization.

“that’s brad,” bob answers. you snort, because of course, his name was brad. “bradshaw!” 

brad spins his head in your direction with a wide grin, a smile that only grows when he catches sight of bob, brows raising at the sight of him surrounded by the three of you. “hey, bobby!”

bob’s cheeks flush and for a moment, you watch him for any sign of discomfort, but he only laughs and pushes all of you toward the island. 

“y’all want a drink?” brad asks, eyes lingering on yours, and without a second thought, you nod along with your friends. 

you listen as well as you can to the conversation between the two men as brad hands bob a beer and asks callie whether she’d prefer a beer or a seltzer. she preens, asking for a beer, and he hands her one back with a polite smile. you watch him ask nat the same question, wracking your brain to figure out where you had seen him. maybe you had served him at work. it wasn’t out of the question that you might have been in a gen ed class together in your first year, but you don’t think it’s either of those. when he trains his eyes on you, you're more confused than ever because you’re sure you would have remembered someone like this.

“and for you?” he asks, voice soft despite the oppressive noise around you.

“seltzer, please,” you respond quickly. he grins at you and you hate the nervous flip of your stomach, thrilled and terrified to have his attention, to be on the receiving end of that smile. 

news of the fresh cases has spread around the house and guests are crushing into the kitchen to get their hands on a new drink before they’re gone. at first, you hadn’t minded the crowd as much as you thought you would, but now you’re overwhelmed, so you pat callie’s hand and lean in close. “i think m’gonna step outside, okay?”

she pulls back, brow creased in worry, and says, “are you okay? do you want me to come?”

and you know she will, which you appreciate, but you also know that she just caught sight of the blond that has sauntered into the kitchen—exactly her type—and you don’t want her to miss her shot. “i’m okay! i’ll be right back.”

as you force your way through the crowd, cold can in hand, you wonder why you showed up in the first place. it’s not your scene, not even a little, and you had spent the last three years avoiding places exactly like this. foolishly, you hope that maybe the crowd will thin out the later it gets, but you know that’s not really how these kinds of things work. 

the door from the kitchen to the backyard opens inward, which is a struggle when the couple behind the door only glares at you for attempting to open it. frustrated, you open your mouth to ask them to move, but a large hand from behind you reaches for the doorknob, and the man’s face softens at the sight of whoever’s behind you. 

you glance over your shoulder and there’s brad, his chest brushing against your shoulder. he smiles genially at the couple, nodding at them. “hey, man, how are you?”

you don’t listen to the response because brad twists the doorknob for you, opening the door just enough for you to slip out. you aren’t sure he does it for you, exactly, but you’re grateful either way. the october night, especially compared to the sweaty, booming house, is a welcome and refreshing change, one that nearly forces you to take a deep breath. it’s considerably less crowded outside, and you lean against the vibrating siding of the house, glancing sideways when brad slips out of the door and closes it behind him.

for a moment, he looks across the backyard like he’s looking for something, but you interrupt him when you breathe out sharply, tugging your jacket closer. finally, he turns to look at you, and his face melts into the easiest smile you’ve ever seen. you’re not conscious of the way you smile back, pleased to see him pleased, and he leans against the wall beside you.

“hi.”

you look at him, half appalled and half intrigued, because brad is handsome. even if he wasn’t, he has the kind of inherent charm that makes up for physical deficiency, and you would think that someone so handsome might have a better way to flirt than saying ‘hi.’

it occurs to you suddenly that he’s flirting. he’s flirting with you. you feel a sudden warmth creeping from the pit of your stomach, rising to your skin and making you feel a little flushed. “hi.”

he holds out a hand in a formal handshake and you can’t help yourself. you chuckle a little, allowing him to take your hand. “i’m brad.”

you purse your lips and shake his hand. “...brad.”

he tilts his head knowingly, eyes mirthful. “yes?”

with a grin at him, you pull your hand back, rocking on your heels. “that’s just such a frat boy name.”

and he laughs, so loud and warm that suddenly it feels like august, pressing his hand to his abdomen. you watch him appreciatively, endeared to the way his cheeks flush, the way his shoulders shake. his eyes are still crinkled with delight when his laughter slows and he says, “then you can call me bradley.”

your grin shines stronger. “i like bradley.” you offer your name, and he sticks a hand into his pocket. he’s cute, undeniably, and every once in a while, someone will pass by and clap him on the shoulder, greeting him with a ‘hey, man!’ or an excited call of his name. for some reason, seeing how liked he is makes you like him even more. he greets everyone back—remembers their names and everything—and the smile on his face is so genuine that it takes you aback.

bradley is easier to talk to than you had expected, not that you had expected much. he briefly talks about his mother when you ask, answers a couple of questions about what he does outside of academics, but he seems more invested in asking you any questions than offering information. you’re right in the middle of a tangent about one of your classes when you ask, “what’s your major, again?”

he thumbs the tab of his can. “biochem,” he nods, and you grin.

“me, too!” you respond eagerly, and he laughs, seeming a little bashful.

“yeah, i know,” he responds easily. “we’re in a lot of classes together, i think.” he doesn’t think, he knows, but the last thing bradley wants to do now that you’re warming up to him is come off as some weirdo who spends all his time watching you instead of his lectures. your face brightens with recognition, and he smiles softly. “i also tried—and failed—to flirt with you in the bookstore at the beginning of the semester, but…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. that was supposed to be the silent part, but part of him hopes that you might remember him, no matter how poorly he had done then. he thinks he’s doing pretty well now.

you blanch, covering your mouth with your hand, and bradley could kick himself. “oh, my god. bradley, i’m so sorry! i can’t believe i forgot about that,” you lament, and he laughs with a tinge of self-deprecation.

“i really think it’s better that you did,” he soothes, and then you giggle and all is restored. he’s back in good standing, his washout from the bookstore entirely balanced. he’s all too aware of the tiny step you take in his direction, one that he’s not sure you’ve even noticed yourself. it comforts him, lets him know that right now, you’re closer to the same page than you’ve ever been, and that alone makes his heart begin to pound.

“well, i still feel bad,” you admit, and he shrugs. 

“rejection is healthy for the ego,” he excuses.

it seems like it’s something he actually believes, which makes your chest sticky with unbridled affection. “you don’t seem like the kind of guy who experiences a lot of rejection.”

he flushes and you know you’re right, but it doesn’t annoy you. he’s nothing you would have assumed him to be; he isn’t arrogant or lewd, doesn’t push you to drink and hasn’t asked you to his room. the surprise is almost sweeter than the realization that bradley is the kind of guy you could like, silly name aside.

bradley can’t believe his luck; he hadn’t gotten you here, but someone had, and he’s thrilled. he’s grateful. he reaches for you, fingers hesitating, but he folds down the collar of your jean jacket, and he can’t contain himself when you smile at him. you’re vulnerable, open with him, and bradley can read the signs. he’s giddy, because you’re finally looking at him, laughing with him, and bradley thinks that this—you are better than any way he had ever imagined you. 

“bradley bradshaw,” you murmur, rolling your eyes playfully. “you aren’t entirely insufferable.”

he guffaws, fingers tightening around his empty beer can. he’s been out of his drink for nearly half an hour, but he can’t pull himself from you. “wow, i’m honored.”

you play it up, turning away from him to look out across the backyard. the two of you are so close that your shoulder brushes his chest, and warmth races through his body at the contact. a large hand settles in the dip of the small of your back, and you pretend that it doesn’t make you want to shiver. “you should be. i’m very hard to please.”

and bradley’s stomach flips, fingers tightening around his empty can once again. “i’m sure i could figure it out.”

a surprised laugh forces its way out of you and he snorts. “dude.”

he grins, tapping his empty can against yours. this is going well, better than he thought it would. “you want another drink?”

you look at him, a pleased smile pushing at your cheeks. “yes, please.”

he’ll give you a moment alone, in part because he really does need another drink, but mostly because if there ever were a time to work up the courage to ask you out, it would be right now. he grabs your can, flashing you a sweet smile before he slips inside. 

the second his back is turned, you can’t tamp down your smile, your ears burning. at this point, you don’t even care if he’s stringing you along. you like him. he makes you laugh, and he had been willing to admit that he had his foot in his mouth when he had approached you at the beginning of the semester. then, you had assumed the same of him that you had when you’d met again: that he was cocky, that he was a stereotypical frat boy. but now, he’s laughing at himself the same way you are, humbled and sweet.

the kitchen door opens, and you turn to greet him, but it’s nat. you smile warmly, leaning against the wall. “hey.”

“hey,” she breathes. “you’ve been out here the whole time?”

you shrug, sticking your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “yeah. you guys having fun?”

nat rolls her eyes with a huff. “yeah, about that. we gotta get callie home.”

worry washes over you, forcing out the lovesick warmth that had overtaken you and leaving you with a bitter chill. “what happened?”

she shakes her head, the toe of her boot rubbing out a cigarette butt someone has thrown on the back porch. “she got into a pissing contest with that guy she was flirting with,” nat grunts. “you know how she is. anyway, she’s in the backseat.”

and you shouldn’t be surprised, because yeah, you know callie. she can’t let a challenge go, and you’re amazed it hasn’t given her alcohol poisoning yet. taking care of her while drunk is like second nature after so many years of friendship, and you had figured that the night would end like this, anyway. but you hadn’t anticipated bradley. you want to take care of your best friend, but you don’t want to leave behind the lovely flush that bradley has given you.

nat notices your pause and frowns. “you okay?” you step to the side and peek into the window. bradley stands, pretty and flushed in the kitchen, his beer in one hand and a different flavor of your seltzer in another. god, you don’t want to leave him behind. you want to stay, soaking up his warmth, his attention, and you want to kiss him, and maybe you want to spend the night with him. you watch him laugh in the kitchen, goading one of the other party guests, his charisma radiating even through the window. everyone around him laughs, smiles up at him, falls into his encouragement to keep drinking, keep having fun, and you recognize the look on their faces. it’s the look that you’ve been wearing for the last hour talking to him.

you sigh and turn back to nat. “yeah, m’good. let’s get her home.”

your friend hesitates, but you smile and nod. bradley charms everyone around him; you’re sure that you’re no different. he has everyone falling at his feet. he makes people feel special; it’s the kind of guy he is, and you like that about him, but that’s all it is. 

you let nat drag you through the side yard and around the front to bob’s car, and you try not to let yourself think about bradley on the ride home.

bradley, still laughing at javy’s insistence on body shots, slips out the backdoor, can in each hand. the crowd pushes the door closed behind him, and his belly is still flipping when he turns to where you should be. where you were. he frowns, confused, and he hates the way his stomach swoops when he looks across the yard and can’t see you. tucking his beer in the crook of his elbow, he shoves his way back into the kitchen.

“reub!” he calls over the noise, and his friend beams at him. “where’s bob?”

reuben, drunk and thrilled, responds, “man, he just left!”

a sinking realization makes bradley wilt, his shoulders dropping, and bradley knows that you’re gone, too.

callie glares unhappily at the glass bob has set before her. “i’m literally going to puke.”

he gives her a look, unimpressed with her dramatics. “it goes down smoother than you’d think.”

“does it come up smooth, too?”

you don’t blame her, really. you had never tasted bob’s hangover cure, but it looks exactly like what you cleaned out of his backseat last night. no, you wouldn’t want any part of it, either, but he swore by it. nat drops a straw in the thick mixture, and callie groans but begins drinking it obediently.

“so,” nat starts, sitting across from you at the table. “how was your night?”

you feel your cheeks warm but you shrug casually, resting your chin on your water bottle. “fine. how was yours?”

“you disappeared,” she responds, ignoring your question, and you roll your eyes goodnaturedly.

“i did not ‘disappear.’ i was exactly where i said i was all night.”

nat narrows her eyes at you, and when you look at bob, you see his lips quirked in the tiniest smile. “brad followed you out,” he notes, and you stare back at him, trying to keep your face blank.

you don’t want to feel giddy about bradley, not when you know he was just being nice. the last thing you want to do is give bob any indication that bradley has gotten under your skin; you know bob. you love bob, but he’s observant, and though he would never tell a secret on purpose, you know better than anyone that sometimes the truth just slips out of him. “he did.”

callie perks up a little, straw still in her mouth when she asks, “you and brad?”

“no,” you insist. “we just talked for a few minutes.”

nat smirks, leaning onto her elbows. “did you like him?”

“he was nice.”

“that’s not what i asked,” she pushes, and you huff.

you want to hold it close to your chest. it’s embarrassing to admit that you had allowed bradley to make you feel so special, that he had wooed you without even trying. but the idea of lying to your best friends makes you sweat a little. natasha would find out anyway, and then you’d be in for it. “i mean…yeah, i guess.”

“that’s a yes,” bob celebrates, and you frown. 

your best friends share a pleased look and you harrumph. “what does it matter, anyway? he’s just some…random frat guy. probably would end up being an asshole, anyway.”

bob shakes his head, filling one of your mugs with coffee for himself. “nah, brad’s cool. he’s nice.”

you level a glare at bob. “regardless. the last thing i need right now is to develop feelings for some guy that everyone else is already in love with.” and bob doesn’t argue, doesn’t deny the fact that bradley has everyone falling at his feet. you shrug, taking a sip of your water. “he’s cool, i guess. but i don’t have time for that.”

callie wrinkles her nose in your direction, clearly a little annoyed. “but you like him.”

you purse your lips. “so?”

she sighs, holding her cup of sludge with both hands as she leans back into her seat. “tell him.” it’s such a callie thing to say. she had never second-guessed herself. she had never needed to. but you weren’t callie. you weren’t perfect, reliable callie. such confidence had never come to you the way it has to her. if you were callie, the kind of person that people were drawn to—the same way they were drawn to bradley—you might tell him. but you weren’t. you were just you.

you lean back into your chair, avoiding your friends’ eyes, and for a minute, you pretend that you are like callie, and it’s a comforting thought.

similarly, bradley and mickey look at each other across the kitchen island. “so…you didn’t kiss her.”

“no,” bradley says, tired.

“and you didn’t ask her out?”

“no.”

mickey looks at him, head tilted curiously. “but why?”

“because she left, you idiot,” javy rolls his eyes. “you aren’t even listening.”

“i am!” he insists, glaring at javy. “i just don’t understand. brad, you’re the clincher.” 

bradley has been running over the events of the night before until he can’t hold it in anymore. he had hoped his roommates would be helpful, but javy is disinterested, mickey is entirely unhelpful, and jake had shuffled away five minutes into the conversation to fall asleep on the couch. “i don’t know, man, i thought it was going great. she seemed like she was interested, you know? 

mickey shrugs. “whatever, dude. you said you have some classes together? just catch her on campus and ask her out.”

“mickey, did it ever occur to you that she left because she didn’t like me?” bradley stresses, and his roommate rolls his eyes. 

“bradley, have you ever considered that you only like this girl because she's the first one who doesn’t like you?”

bradley sits with this for a moment. he had an ego, that was for sure, and he had chased a lot of girls who didn’t want him just to change their minds. the thrill was always in the chase. at least, it had been, because the longer bradley thinks about it, the more he thinks that he had found just as much thrill watching you across lecture halls as he ever had chasing other girls. he had been just as eager to get you a drink and make you laugh as he had to take other girls to bed. everything is heightened with you. no, the thrill wasn’t in chasing you. this had gone on so much longer than that. long before he ever found out that you had no interest in him.

“no,” bradley decides. “no, man, it’s not like that. i really like her.”

mickey shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “okay, then tell her. what’s the worst that can happen?”

you avoid looking at bradley throughout class. right as it had begun, you had made the mistake of searching for him, and the second that you laid eyes on him, it felt like a burn. over the weekend, you had come to terms with the fact that yeah, you did like bradley. that didn’t mean you had to like it. you would put your head down, get through the semester, and pray that you didn’t have any classes together next semester. and that’s fine. it’s fine. 

your notes, like your thoughts, are scrambled. they barely make sense to you, and when callie glances in your direction, her face twists at the sight of your notebook. “dude, what the fuck?”

“stop,” you insist, trying to hide the way your shoulders shake in a laugh. “it’s functional.”

“bro, it’s incomprehensible.”

“fuck off,” you laugh, elbowing her. 

she giggles, pressing a hand to her chest. you’re grateful when your professor releases class early, because callie’s jeering is getting a little too close to heckling for your taste. she can’t control her volume, this you know, and usually it’s fine, but more than usual, you’re trying to fly under the radar today.

you both shrug on your coats, pack your bags, and slip from the lecture hall. you think you’re in the clear, that you’ve successfully avoided bradley, who exited on the opposite side of the lecture hall, not that you were looking. but you hear your name from only a few feet behind just as you and callie reach the external doors. it’s far enough away, crowded enough in the rush of your classmates that you might be able to pretend you didn’t hear it, but he calls you again and you know that the guilt will haunt you if you don’t at least say hi.

your best friend grins when you turn and offer bradley a tight smile. “hey, bradley.”

“hey,” he breathes, and you hate him because he’s so much cuter in daylight than he ever was under the porch light of the frat house. it makes you sick. “i’m glad i caught up to you. can we talk?”

your inner monologue screeches to a halt and starts shrieking, but you nod and turn to callie. “i’ll catch up?”

she smirks at the two of you. “i won’t hold my breath.”

“callie,” you hiss, but bradley laughs and you feel—despite your embarrassment—that her comment is hopeful, not teasing. 

she waves goodbye and heads on her way. you and bradley, standing against the late autumn chill, stand in silence for only a beat before he says, “i lost you at the party.”

your lips twist in a way that’s unbearably endearing to him and you hook your thumb over your shoulder. “callie got sick, we had to take her home.”

bradley grins, looking after her. “oh, that callie.” you look at him, half-suspicious, but you have an almost knowing smile growing on your face. “my roommate hasn’t stopped talking about her since friday.”

“jake?” you hazard a guess, and bradley nods. a contemplative sigh fills the space between you before you say, “yeah, trust me. we’ve heard a lot about him, too.”

you expect some banter, at least, about his roommate. from what callie has told you, you’re certain that bradley has some stories to share about him, or at least a funny quip, but he’s got a one track mind. “um…right. well, i would have liked to…say bye.”

for a long moment, the two of you look at one another in silence. you get the sense that bradley doesn’t spend a great deal of time being vulnerable like this, even if he’s just giving you the barest hint of what happens underneath, and you have to wonder: why is he sharing this with you? what is he doing? 

“no, yeah. you just looked like you were having fun inside, i didn’t think you’d really notice.” and god, you hate how pathetic that sounds, and you hate the way his shoulders deflate, and you hate the way you’re butchering this right now. “i just didn’t want to bother you, was all.” 

“you wouldn’t have bothered me,” he responds immediately. 

he’s so cute that looking at him hurts, and you feel that pressure build up in your chest, packed so tightly that you have to say something. “bradley—”

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice sweet and a little scratchy. he holds eye contact so firmly that it almost makes you shiver, both of you ignoring the other students around you. “i’m sorry if i was too pushy, or if i made you uncomfortable.”

“you didn’t,” you assure. “you weren’t. not at all.” he nods once.

bradley feels like the earth could swallow him right now and it could only help the situation. he’s embarrassed, but he tries not to show it. after mickey’s rare moment of mental clarity, bradley knows that now is the moment. he’d missed his chance before. fumbled his opportunity already. he didn’t want to do that again. “listen…i’ve been watching you across classrooms for like, four semesters. i think you’re really pretty,” he admits, voice steady despite the increasing flush on his cheeks. “and you’re funny and interesting and smart and i want to get to know you, because i really like you.” you blanch, mouth parted in the cutest little o he’s ever seen. “if you aren’t interested, i get it. we can just be friends.”

you pause, taking a moment to process his words when he cuts in again.

“or if you don’t want to be friends, you can totally tell me to fuck off and i will literally never bother you again,” he rambles, nodding decisively.

and it happens at the worst time, really. this is not the time to start giggling, but you can’t help yourself. you’re a little giddy and a little entertained, but mostly you’re caught up in him. caught up in the way this boy you haven’t stopped thinking about for the last three days has, apparently, spent the last two years admiring you. this sweet boy, who makes you laugh and makes you think, who makes you feel special and interesting and wanted. 

“bradley, you don’t get rejected a lot, do you?”

bradley’s lips pucker, trying to hide his nerves from you. whatever you had to say, he wanted to hear it. no matter what. “no, i don't.”

you take a step toward him, grateful for the heat that rolls off his body, and you smile at him softly. “well, best not to break your record, then.”

bradley bradshaw isn’t the type to pine. until he is. 

and it’s worth every second.

[senawashere]

Carolina?

Summary: Who is Carolina? Is she the other woman? And why Bradley is talking about her in his sleep?

A/n: I wrote this like 2 or 3 years ago for another character and i wanted to post again🤭

Warnings: tooth rutting fluff actually. Maybe a bit angst. And a bit smutt at the end. Hehehehe.

Bradley always talked in his sleep,most of life. So you were ok with it. But one night,everything chances.

You slowly wake up to a chill in the air, realizing that Bradley has closed most of the windows once again, as usual.

The room is dark, and the digital clock on your nightstand shows 4:28; you've only been asleep for four hours.

As you turn to the side, you see Bradley curled up in the blankets, lying on his side with his back turned to you. You approach him, pulling the blanket closer for warmth, and snuggle up to your husband, wrapping your arm around his abdomen. You drift back to sleep with you melting in his embrace, emitting a low, soft purr from his curled lips.

He feels so warm and resilient against you that you bury your face into his back, inhaling his scent, placing a few kisses on his shoulder blades before laying your head on the pillow. You hear Bradley's gentle murmurs as he returns to his dreams. When you open your eyes, you lift your head slightly, leaning towards him in hopes of understanding what he's saying, but his words are jumbled.

"Brad?" you whisper, wondering if he's about to wake up.

"Baby..." he murmurs, and then you hear something inconsistent.

"I'm here," you say softly, kissing his shoulder. He usually calls you "baby," so you assume he's talking to you.

"Baby... My baby..." he repeats, and as you smile at the thought of him dreaming about you, everything shatters with a single word.

"Carolina... Carolina, baby… my…girl"

Wait a second, who is Carolina?

It wakes you up faster than an alarm. As you sit up, looking at your still-sleeping husband, talking about someone named Carolina in his dreams, you're left puzzled. You don't know anyone by that name, so she must be someone Bradley knows, and that's concerning.

"Carolina... beautiful..." the words spill from his lips, almost inaudible but piercing your ears like a punch to the chest.

Lately, he's been so confused, but you haven't thought much about it, attributing it to all the work he put into his job and getting promoted. However, now you see it in a different light.

And yes you know his mother’s name is Carol but the problem is Carol and Carolina are not the same.

Or are they? No probably not.

Could Bradley be spending time with another woman? The thought of him cheating on you didn't cross your mind. Everything seemed so perfect; you were planning the moving somewhere else next summer, and he didn't seem regretful of his decision to marry you.

But then who is Carolina? And if she invaded his dreams, how important could she be? More important than you? It made your stomatch flip.

Afterward, you struggled to sleep, tossing and turning in bed for hours.

Bradley stops talking afterward, turning his face up, and while you lie awake next to him, going through every possible theory in your mind, he simply sleeps peacefully, unaware of your racing thoughts. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, you're already out of bed, perched on a kitchen stool with your laptop, hoping to find a clue Bradley left behind as you delve into the history.

But what if he's really doing this? If he's cheating on you, he wouldn't be foolish enough to get caught like this. Right?

You make tea and reluctantly check his socials that he follows almost everyone he knows. You hate stalking your husband with the thought of him cheating on you but now you want to know if something strange is happening. Unfortunately, or fortunately, nothing suspicious comes up. Most of the accounts are from people who works with, either with people you know,his old friends, or his family members and some of his dads old friends.

No sign of another woman.

That’s good. Right?

Bradley wakes up to an empty bed. It's strange that you're not cuddling him or holding onto him like a koala bear. He blinks his swollen eyes a few times, adjusting to the low light, and straightens the other side of the bed where your body used to rest. Since the room isn't even that cold, he knows you've been up for a while.

Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he throws on a sweatshirt and slowly exits the room, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He notices you immediately, curled up on the edge of the couch, looking out of the window. Your forehead is creased, indicating something is bothering you.

"Hey, honey, the bed was cold without you," he murmurs, walking towards you with slow steps, sitting beside you on the couch near the window.

You look at him, your jaw clenched,on verge of tears and even though you didn't want to start like this, the truth about the morning overwhelms you.

"Who is Carolina?"

Confusion is evident on his face. It's not the kind of thing that someone doesn't know what or who is being talked about. Carolina is a real person, and Bradley knows exactly who she is.

"What's this about now?" he asks, leaning back, putting some distance between you two, his arm dropping over the back of the couch,confusion is clearly visible all over his face.

"Do you know anyone named Carolina?" you push, narrowing your eyes.

"I do... well, I mean... it's not what you think honey really..."

"You talk in your sleep, Bradley."

"What?" his eyes widen.

"You often murmur incoherently, but last night, you kept repeating the name Carolina, and... you even called her baby. You called her baby! You only call me baby. "

The revelation dawns on him as you watch, and he takes a slow breath, exhaling gently. This is going to be more complicated than you anticipated.

"I'm telling you, but promise not to think I've lost my mind, okay?"

"You're scaring me, Bradley," you breathe out. "Tell me. Please."

"Okay, okay," he says, inhaling deeply and then nodding slightly. "Do you remember... the day when we thought you might be pregnant, about like five months ago?"

"Of course, I remember," you nod,biting your lip.

Your period was late, and you had vomited in the morning. Bradley had taken a test, and you both sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, waiting for the results. It came back negative.

You felt relieved, but a part of you wondered how it would have been if you were pregnant. Something in your head told you it wouldn't have been a big deal, but the timing wasn't right because you two were just about to get married and it would have been nice to get married first before having a baby.

"A few days after that... I had a dream."

"A dream?" You furrow your brows, unsure where this is going.

"Yeah. It was about you and me, and... we had a baby. A little girl. It wasn't something crazy; you were breastfeeding her in our bed, and I was watching you, and then I was holding her, rocking her to sleep and she was sleeping in my arms... It felt real, and when I woke up... I felt like something was missing."

You listen to him carefully, your lower lip tense, and your heart pounding in your chest.

"Since then, I've been having similar dreams. At least twice a week. Always the same baby, always with you inside, but we do different things. Sometimes we bathe her,sometimes we play tickling,sometimes we walk in the park, and sometimes she sleeps in a stroller... Once my mom and dad were in it and one time I saw Mav and Penny too, God, it felt so real," he confesses with a shaky breath. "The last few times, we didn't even have her with us. We gave her a name."

"Carolina? Her name is Carolina?" you softly ask, pushing yourself closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Yes. She looks a lot like you, but her eyes are like mine. A perfect mix of both of us, and... I couldn't shake it off. Sometimes I wake up after a dream, and I feel like something has been taken away from us, it feels so real,I miss her even though I don't know her."

"Why didn't you tell me about these dreams, Baby?" you whisper, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

"It felt super foolish, and I didn't know how it would make you feel. I knew we talked about trying for a baby after the wedding, and I thought bringing it up would upset you," he shrugs, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

As you sit on the couch, silence falls between you two, your head resting on his chest, his arms around you. This wasn't the outcome you expected. None of your theories came close to the truth Bradley just revealed.

"I was thinking about the same thing...for a while." you say.

"About what?"

"About having a baby. If the test had come back positive, how would it have been?"

"And...?" He leans back to look into your eyes.

"I wouldn't have aborted it," you admit honestly, and Bradley takes a slow breath, gently kissing your forehead. "Do you want to... start trying for a baby before we talk about,Bradley?"

"It can wait," he replies, looking as if he's afraid to say something that might upset you. "If we continue what we're doing, it's okay..."

"But I want to know what you want, Bradley. Tell me."

He takes a deep breath, running his tongue over his lips before speaking.

"I think I want it." The way your heart explodes at his words is undeniable. Realizing that he feels exactly the same way now brings tears to your eyes.

"It would probably mean a blow to the squad if we start now and succeed," you laugh, watching his eyes glimmer.

"That would be the best thing that ever happened," he chuckles, confessing, "just the thought of going on adventures while our baby grows under your heart... God, I could just cry just thinking about it."

"So," you grin, slyly teasing him as you hold his chin with one hand. "Carolina?"

"It could be something else if it's a boy."

"I like it," you murmur, nodding. "We can add it to the list. But before we start making lists, we should probably start trying for a baby, don't you think?"

He doesn't need more encouragement. As you both laugh and kiss, you find yourselves in your bedroom in an instant, clothes flying off as you fall onto the bed. Giving him a passionate kiss before he undresses you, you can't help but whisper, "I love you."

Ekkkk full of cuteness🥹🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @bradshawssugarbaby @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady

[bruisedboys]

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

[sicko4smut]

Champagne Coast | B. Bradshaw

synopsis: Your not really sure how everything went so wrong, that summer started like any other and yet by the end of it…everything was completely different

warnings: - Age GAP, reader is 19, Rooster is 34, Reader is Reuben’s niece, secretly “hooking up”, controversial topics, complicated relationship, idiots in love, beefy, mustached Roo in a Hawaiian shirt being the center of my wet dream

[1.1] The Beginning - The porch swing and where we fucked up

[1.2] The Middle- It’s Awkward and complicated yet we’re still pining

[1.3] More bad decisions

[1.4] The Climax - holy shit show

[1.5] Resolution - (no chapter name yet)

──── THE END ────

PLAYLIST 📻 - ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪

▶︎ Champagne Coast - Blood Orange

▶︎ Girls Need love - Summer Walker

▶︎ Body - Summer Walker

▶︎ Invite Me - Brent Faiyaz

▶︎ Shame - Summer Walker

▶︎ Deep - Summer Walker

▶︎ Awkward - SZA

▶︎ Pretty Little Birds - SZA

▶︎ Love Scars - Trippie Redd

▶︎ Living Room Flow (Bonus) - Jhené Aiko

ᬊ⃙ 𝓵 ove my 𝒘𝒂𝒚 ﹋ it's a 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒅

dividers: @gigittamic , @anitalenia , @cafekitsune ,

Masterlist for another upcoming story that’s in development, that will be posted on my main blog @smutmaniac

[luveline]

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound. 

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket. 

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?" 

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?" 

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace. 

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away. 

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly. 

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly. 

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves." 

"My nerves," you say. 

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away. 

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning. 

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?" 

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket. 

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff. 

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight? 

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch? 

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you. 

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it. 

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles. 

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?" 

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain. 

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley." 

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows. 

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication. 

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to." 

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine. 

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly. 

"Yes. Please." 

[missmarveledsblog]

A deployment buddy ( Natasha trace x Female!Reader)

summary : it was the last thing Phoenix was expected to find arriving home but when she finds out how truly hard the deployments have been on the love of her life the furry surprise is a most welcome one

Warnings : none just is just cute and fluffy and it has dogs so like winner ... ok maybe not proofread but it has puppers so i think that makes up for it

Ok so maybe rushing into the house was a clear indication something was up but when Natasha trace walked into her  home , thinking her girlfriend some house warming gift or maybe slightly hoping some form of raunchy surprise. What she didn’t expect was the love of her life crouched looking up at  her with a worried expression while her hand was holding the collar of a german shepherd puppy she definitely didn’t remember being there three months when she went on deployment . 

“ erm baby ?” she smiled confused . 

“ yes beautiful and  very understanding love of my life “ y/n batted her lashes hand carding through the puppies fur to try settle the clearly excited pupper at new face . 

“ what the fuck .. don’t play dumb” she rolled her eyes trying to hide the amused smirk on her lips especially as she watched her huffing as she lifted the bundle of fur into her arms . 

“ ok so this is rocket … cause he looks like the racoon… ok so roo was going to get a dog and asked me to go with him so really this is his fault because i can’t say no to cute things that why bob get away with murder we both know this “ she rambled as nat couldn’t help agree bob was cartoonishly cute and did always get his way .  “ plus when your on deployment he can be my deployment buddy so i won’t be lonely ” she smiled sweetly .

“ for one i am kicking bradshaw’s ass  and two i know my deployments have been rough but next time  maybe tell me you going to get an animal “  she laughed coming over rubbing the puppies head of course the little man was the cutest little thing she ever saw and one lick to her hand and she was already goner. 

“ ok next time i will tell you i’m getting one “ y/n  sang out while putting the puppy down heading down to their share room  . 

“ wait i didn’t mean it like that … y/n come back i didn't… come back here” nat chased after only for rocco to yap and follow thinking it was a game his new moms where playing . 

A small welcome home drink in the hard deck nat was surprised to learn rocco was  somewhat popular with the patrons and the owner of the bar . even more surprised when penny already had some treats at the ready . looking up to see y/n , rocco and Mav talking away with bradshaws puppy lou  at the bar smiling at the scene because of course her girlfriend would find a way to get them in  .  

“ you know she wasn’t bad this time … OUCH baby on board what the hell “ jake yelped bringing the brunette attention to her friends . 

“ shut up bagman “ he hissed as nat brows furrowed  while they all refused to meet her eye. 

“ what you mean not that bad?” she asked no one in particular but all of them at once. “ spill it” she glared at her friends . 

“  we always say your lucky right ? “ Rooster sighed  as she nodded. “ because even though it’s kinda a dick thing ..not like that .. she get upset like down bad when your on deployment  and we kinda hope someone love us that much to be like that but it’s hard to watch sometimes when we try help we all know it because she misses you so much it like a part of her goes with you “ he explained as her heart clenched and yet grew bigger with the love she had for that woman she got to call hers.  Of course she knew it was gonna be hard and she was grateful it never was a deal breaker but it was still hard to hear how it affected the one she love more than anything . 

“ but rocco has been helping with that , she been telling him since she got him all about his other mom and he was going to love you as much as she did,   just saying if you do ever want kids that the woman you have them with “ rooster added with a smirk before heading up to the bar .

“ how come you didn’t kick trooster “ was all nat heard before she got up , needing to be with her little family even if one member walked on four legs and was covered in fur.  She barely gave y/n a moment before crashing her lips on hers . all the word she needed to say and couldn’t but that kiss would do for now. 

“ what was that for not that i’m complaining “ y/n let out a breathless chuckle leaning her head on nats shoulder while rocco was giving  his new mom kisses of his own . 

“ because i love you and i love our fur baby “ nat shrugged although rooster could see what the words couldn’t , he could see it was nat way of thanking her for not giving up on her like most women did . not that they blamed them deployment could test the strongest couples and it wasn’t always a success story like nat had. 

“ penny my dear could you take our picture? I need to update the one in my cockpit , locker and my phone “ nat chuckled, handing her phone  over while rooster being a diligent best friend to both women started shoving patrons out of the background before shouting “ all clear” .  both holding the ball of fur as Mav got his attention behind penny and  nat pulling her girl closer to her side , a few clicks and flashes  , penny finally smiled happy as she handed the phone back over. 

“ perfect” nat smiled softly her whole world in front of her and at her side in one moment looking down at the picture  except rocco wasn’t looking at the camera he was looking up at them a pup version that made it look like he was smiling. 

Restless  as the rooster confession hit her , looking down at the sleeping woman in her arms  completely in awe she had found someone she truly could call her soulmate, one she couldn’t wait to grow old with  and have that family  in the future. How natasha trace was never one to believe in that stuff until she met y/n , how she’d never been so happy in her life nor had she ever felt so loved . Only to hear whine and squeak of bark that made the woman in her arm stir. 

“ i got him back asleep “ she chuckled kissing her head before grabbing the robe and sneaker leading the pup down to the kitchen and heading out into the night air taking a seat on the back door step while he zoomed around the back yard.   Thinking of how even though it wasn't the way she wanted to get a pet but if this little bundle of fur made her girl life easier and less lonely when she wasn’t around than that was reason to love him even more than she possibly did . she couldn’t help laugh when he climb into her arms flopping on his little back  there she was holding their puppy like a baby and in a sense he was but she couldn’t help think over rooster words  “if you do ever want kids that the woman you have them with” .  she wanted that with y/n but their was one step she needed to take first . 

“Thank you for taking care of her when i wasn’t here  guess i’m luckiest woman in the world to have you both …  wanna help me make this family official little guy and finally use that ring in my bedside table “ she cooed down as he tapped back up earning a belly rub . “ thanks buddy lets hope she says yes but we gotta make it special thinking beach sort of thing til then its our little secret  ok my deployment buddy” she whispered standing up as the two head back to the woman that made their life the best it ever been .

[fandoms--fluff]

Hcs for being Natasha “Phoenix’s” sister from top gun?

Being Phoenix's Sister Headcannons

She's five years older than you but holds that over you from time to time

You met Bradley and Jake after her Top Gun class graduation

Bradley treats you as his own little sister

And Hangman annoys you to no end, to which you annoy him right back

You've also got a flying license, you're just not a naval aviator

Nat and Bradley taught you how to fly an F-14 in sligjt combat, that was a week after their top gun grad.

Under no circumstances does Phe let you use the stove or the oven. She barely let's you use the microwave without her watch when she's state side

^Which is fair, considering the amount of fires you've had to extinguish

You live off a bunch if vending machine food at the top gun base

And that's how you met your sister's CO, Pete Mitchell, for the special detachment her, Bradly and jackass (aka Jake) were called back for. He caught you kicking the vending machine since it stopped half way through, not dropping the bag of chips you paid for.

To which you guys had a pretty good conversation together, forgetting to mention you're not an actual aviator.

He didn't learn about who you are until after the suicide mission. He saw you and Nat huh each other tightly after everyone got back state side, on the beach. Everyone was relaxing on the beach after the huge excitement that had happened.

Nat introduced you to him as her little sister, and you chuckled as his mouth gaped in surprise.

Everyone watches as you throw one of the footballs they brought at Hangman after him insulting your sister.

^Bradley giving you a fistbump and Nat sighs while trying to hide her smile.

You, Nat and Halo have a big sleepover movie night, just the three of you girls. Halo taking a liking to you, seeing a lot of Nat in you.

You 'borrow' a bunch of Nat's navy sweaters and wear them around the base and the Hard Deck, seeing how many people will belive that you're in the Navy.

You and Penny become good friends at the bar

^you learn some (a lot of) dirt on Maverick from her

Bradley explains to you about his relationship with Maverick and you may or may not have smacked him upside the head about how he cut connection with the man

^to which he agreed he deserved

The whole dagger squad now treat you as their baby sister and you can't go anywhere without 'protection' aka one of them.

You love your big sister to death, when you were younger you wanted to be just like her. Strong, loyal, pretty and much more.

Amelia and you become good friends, you like a mentor to her and teaching her about different flight maneuvers with model planes, everything you learnt from Nat and Bradley...and maybe....maybe Jake.

[coffeeandbatboys]

To Be Loved (Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader)

When your family treats you badly, Rooster doesn't like it and take a a stand.

Warnings: bad parenting, neglect, verbal abuse.

All it was supposed to be was a relaxing, tension-free summer afternoon barbeque. You would finally introduce Bradley to your family, eat, and leave.

But it wasn't all that simple.

"Guys, this is Bradley." You said nervously, standing next to the handsome man you called yours.

Your step dad moved forward to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, son."

You grimaced at the level of comfort he had using the term.

Your mom smiled. "Welcome to the family, Bradley. Care for something to drink? There's some stuff in the garage fridge."

He nodded politely with a tiny smile.

"Thank you, ma'am."

He looked at you tentatively as if to make sure you'd be okay. You gave him a weak smile in response. It was once he left the room that your step dad tore into you.

"The Navy, really? You're both in the Navy? Come on. We wanted you to be something more...simple. Maybe a lawyer or a doctor. And as for who you're going to date—"

"Excuse me?" You scoffed. "Since when are my life choices yours to make? You're not even my dad."

"Y/N!" Your mom gasped.

You stood your ground, calm yet angry.

"I am laying my life on the line to protect this country. What I do and who I am with is not your decision anymore."

Your step dad bristled with rage. "I raised you! You ungrateful brat. We set aside college funds for you and you turned around and threw it all out the window."

"Hey, I've heard enough. Stop talking to her like she's a child."

You turned to see Bradley in the doorway with his arms crossed, a question in his eyes.

You nodded softly.

"I think we're done here."

As you strode towards him and took his hand, you turned around to face them once again.

"In case you hadn't realized, there's a reason you didn't know about the wedding."

You didn't miss the shock on their faces before you turned to walk out the door.

Now sitting in the Bronco, you were silent and still a little hot from your rage.

"Everything you've told me could not prepare me enough for what I just heard."

"They've never been able to let me go. The only reason I agreed to come is that all I want is some semblance of a happy family. Not whatever the hell that was."

Bradley's jaw set contemplatively. The Bronco's wheels roared loudly underneath you on the highway.

And before you knew it, you were pulling into a familiar Captain's home.

"Why are we at Mav's?"

Bradley opened his door kissed your temple.

"Just wait a second. I'll be right back."

Soon, both men came out of the hangar and you got out of the car. Maverick gave you a look; not of pity, but of sympathy.

And then he pulled you into a hug.

You could tell he needed to say something.

"I can't always be your dad, but know that if you need, I'm right here."

Your eyes started to well up, and you hugged him a little tighter. "Thanks, Mav."

Once you pulled away, Bradley was by your side again, an arm wrapped around your waist.

"You know I love you. We all do. You've always got another family with us."

You craned your neck to smile at him.

"I love you too, and thanks for having my back."

He held you a little closer.

"Anytime, babe. I'm your wingman."

[skankinator]

Complications Ch. 1

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x FemReader

Author’s note: This is my first fanfic ever written. I hope you like it!

You grew up near a Navy base in San Diego and always dreamed of flying those jets you saw so often. You joined the military as soon as you turned eighteen. That was ten years and many stations ago. You’ve finally established yourself as a missions specialist after having to repeatedly prove yourself. Each mission you plan and execute takes you to a new destination. This one brought you back home.

The missions you specialize in are air operations. From the beginning of your career you made certain that you were the top in your class for everything, especially aviation. This quickly got you promoted to Top Gun where you spent a few years as an elite aviator. Your job has brought you to complete a mission with Top Gun’s Dagger Squadron.

You had files on each member of the squadron to study before arriving. You briefly looked over them on the flight over, only taking note of any information useful to the mission. You would have to teach them every aspect of your plan and train them to execute it perfectly, so you didn’t pay attention to little details.

You had a pre-furnished apartment ready for the time you would be posted in San Diego. You have little belongings from moving so frequently. You could fit your whole life into a couple of boxes. Traveling so frequently also made it difficult to maintain relationships, except your friendship with Stacie.

You texted your closest friend from high school that still lives in the area telling her that you had arrived. You didn’t expect an answer from her for a while. She works third shift at the 24/7 pharmacy, so she wouldn’t be awake for a few hours.

After arriving at the airport, you gathered your suitcases and took a taxi to the apartment. It wasn’t much. Just a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and living area. The furniture was rather plain and there were no decorations aside from a bowl on the coffee table full of potpourri.

You left your luggage unpacked and decided to leave your drab apartment. You got dinner at your favorite food truck, unsurprised that they are still in business. Best. Tacos. Ever. Feeling nostalgic, you decide to go to the bar in which you and your squadron spent most of your time.

The Hard Deck had not changed a bit. When you arrived the place was already swarming with people from the base. You made your way over to the bar where you were greeted by a familiar face.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in ages, what brings you back,” Penny said with a bright smile. One that reminded you of home.

“I’ve got a mission for a Top Gun squadron. How bad are they these days?” You question knowing Penny was the best person to ask about the cocky pilots.

“Not as bad as your class,” she said with a knowing look that brought a tinge of red to your cheeks. To be fair, you were once a hot shot pilot looking down on others from the high horse called Top Gun.

You spent many nights causing trouble at the Hard Deck. Penny had kicked your squad out on several occasions that ended with you sleeping in the sand. Some say your squad let a pelican into the bar and ordered it a beer. This cannot be confirmed nor denied by anyone. Alcohol conveniently has a way of messing with your memory.

“We had some good times,” you said to Penny as she handed you a beer and went to take orders from the very crowded bar. You sat and relaxed sipping on your beer while silently people watching. This was one of your favorite past times.

You saw people mingling with their cliques. Some in uniform some not, either way you could tell who was military or civilian. You end up focusing on a pool game happening across the bar. The group of friends/colleagues? were dressed in their khaki uniforms.

After a while, another joined the group. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that hugged his biceps and a pair of sunglasses that hid his eyes. His skin was kissed by the sun and damp with sweat. San Diego was hot this time of year. You opted for a white tank top and denim shorts that left just enough to the imagination.

You couldn’t help but stare at this stranger. You hadn’t noticed he was the center of your attention until he disappeared. You found yourself looking for him around the bar. Somewhere within the loud jumble of noise from the crowded bar came music. This wasn’t music from the jukebox, it was a piano.

You looked over and saw your mystery man sitting there beginning to play his heart out. Everyone around joined in singing and dancing to the song he played. You payed little attention to the music distracted by his strong arms expertly moving to the music. His long fingers delicately touching the keys. His neck muscles straining as he sang.

Oh shit. You’re really turned on by a really hot stranger. You haven’t exactly had your needs fulfilled since you broke up with your ex. Since then you busied yourself with work and left little time for dating. Of course, you don’t have to date a guy to have your needs met.

You didn’t notice the song end, but you had noticed a presence next to you. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the sexy stranger standing next to you. He was rather close thanks to the crowd. Penny and the other bar tenders were trying to get to everyone as quickly as they could, but you would rather them take their time. The stranger stood waiting to order another round.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said out of the blue. It took a moment for you to realize he was talking to you.

“I-I just flew in today,” you said cursing yourself. Really, that’s all you could muster up. It is hard to think of anything witty to say when you are lost in his smile.

“What brings you to San Diego? I hope it’s not a boyfriend,” he says deepening his voice for the second half. Oh my god is he flirting with me?!

“No boyfriend, just work. I am a… um new teacher. My first day is Monday,” you say putting on a flirtatious look. Technically you are not lying. But are here to teach fighter pilots, not school kids. In the past you have found that men can be run off by your high position in the military.

“Let me buy you a drink to start your school year out right,” we both laugh and look to the still very busy bartenders. We look back to each other. I wish he would take off those silly sunglasses. There is a short lull in the conversation before you pipe up.

“What about you?” You blurt out, just realizing he has been lead in the whole conversation. “What do you do?” His answer is not surprising. His look totally fits the part.

“I’m a pilot,” the way he says it doesn’t sound like a brag at all. He isn’t trying to show boat, instead he states it as fact nothing more.

“Lucky for you I quite like pilots,” your buzz from the three beers have finally taken over. You place your hand on his chest creeping up to his shoulder. He closes what little space is available and places a large hand respectfully low on your thigh.

You can tell he is waiting for you to make the first move. You lean up from your barstool and pull him down into a kiss. His lips are soft contrasting his prickly mustache.

The kiss doesn’t last as long as you would like. When you separate it is like time is frozen. There are no words between the two of you. You are both brought back to earth by a perfectly timed question.

“Can I get you anything?” Penny questions and you snap back to reality a bit flustered.

“I think we would like to close our tabs,” he says after clearing his throat. It’s like he read your mind. Penny looks to you and gives an approving smile and wink before turning to close the tabs.

Once everything is settled, you are making your way through the crowd with a warm hand on your lower back guiding you to the exit.

[ouralcohol]

Let You In

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader 

Summary: what happens when Bradley finally lets you in?

Tags: angst, lots of angst, 18+, allusions to sex, soft, maybe some fluff if you squint your eyeballs

Author’s note: I saw a gif and immediately got inspired. Some people inspired this too... enjoy... comments and reblogs make the world go 'round.

This was the first time you had done this with him. You didn't think that you would have gotten this far with him if you were being honest with yourself. Bradley Bradshaw always had a line of women lined up around the corner whenever he was in town. The reason you knew this was because for as long as you could remember, he always had some kind of arm candy with him whenever he went to the local bar while he was in his hometown of Virginia Beach.

From the last couple of years that you had known him, you never thought that you would get here. More specifically, get here with him. You had always wondered what it would be like to be with him underneath the sheets. Anyone that had eyeballs and a sense of taste would agree. So, what had changed? What had made the line between friends to… whatever this was, blur? You weren't exactly sure, perhaps it had to do with his near death experience? Or was it your signature sundress that you happened to wear every time he strolled in?

The dress was bunched up somewhere on his apartment floor right now… not that it mattered. What mattered was that you were here with him.

Out of all the girls he could have chosen-- he chose you.

You never asked him how long he was here, but you did notice that he was coming around to the bar more frequently. The fact of the matter was that Bradley was good, he was very good in bed. The naval aviator had made you see stars in a manner that you never seen them before. Everything was different with him.

There was some faint music that hit your ears. You stirred from your slumber as your hands rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. This had been one of the most restful sleeps you had gotten in a long time. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Stress was never your friend and you hated it. However, on this particular night, you had slept like a rock. It took you a couple of seconds for your brain to register where you were. The surroundings were not familiar, but you felt at ease. The photo frame on the nightstand made you smile as the moonlight shone upon the frame.

You were in Bradley's bed in his Virginia home. You noted the owner was missing. Ah, so that must be the source of the music, your brain thought as you looed around for your underwear. And idea sparked as your eyes saw that one of his Hawaiian shirts was also on the floor. Contrary to popular belief, you had come to find out that he only owned four, maybe five shirts in total. Your hands grabbed it as you ever so carefully slipped it on, afraid to wrinkle it even more. You didn't even bother to button the oversized shirt. It didn't reveal anything-- maybe some side boobage, but rare if that. Your feet carried you out into the hallway and walk closer to where the music was coming from. The melody that was playing was very different from the lively jigs that the common folk were so attuned to. It was a much slower and softer tune, melancholy even. Curiosity filled you as you inched closer, the music getting louder.

There were many sides to Bradley. People only saw what they wanted to see. People only heard what they wanted to hear. Everyone saw him as an energetic, happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but there were fleeting moments where you happened to glance his way and he was staring off into space for a brief second-- lost in his own thoughts. You never made any mention of it as it wasn't your place to ask. You were friends, but you didn't feel like he was comfortable enough to let himself be a certain way with you.

You being you, wanted to know everything about him. You wouldn't lie to yourself and say that you weren't infatuated, because you were. Every girl at the bar was infatuated with him whenever he walked in. The music factor was a bonus and caused them to leave their tongues hanging out. The way some women gawked at him was incredible. You didn't understand how you could feel this way toward someone that you hardly knew. If you only knew.

Once you had stepped into the small open space and saw his broad shoulders hunched over the piano, your body instantly relaxed. You hadn't realized that you had been nervous, your heart beginning to hammer in your chest with anticipation. You should have known what to expect, but you didn't know exactly what was in store. It's not like you slept with every guy… and it only made you wonder how many girls he had brought home. Seeing his fingers touch the keys so fluidly reminded you just how skilled he had been a few hours ago while making you see heaven on Earth. He wasn't wearing much, only his boxers-- he didn't even have to try to do anything and he looked so handsome. With his locks a little messy, but still so good that made you want to run your fingers through his hair like you had done a while ago.

The image floated in your mind which made you squeeze your thighs together before making your way to where he was sitting down. You had your hands behind your walk while you stood next to the piano. Bradley immediately noticed you, his eyes stuck on your face as his fingers continued to move across the keys so effortlessly-- a softer tune now, "Sorry if I woke you up." Bradley uttered. "Couldn't sleep?" You asked suddenly feeling shy, exposed even. You felt like you were invading his personal intimacy with his piano. Bradley Bradshaw's eyes did not stray from yours, not even for a second. His fingers came to a slow stop-- the ringing of the notes lingering in the air.

The thick tension that caused all of this to happen between you both, had returned. It enveloped you and him in an imaginary bubble. You swallowed thickly as you felt his hand circle around your wrist to bring you in front of him. Your body was encased between him and his piano. Bradley's big strong hands held you in place, eyes still locked on yours. "No. I can never sleep anymore." The pilot whispered to you. You let out a slow breath. He was letting you in. "May I?" You gently queried as you brought your hand up to his face. Bradley nodded, "Close your eyes." You told him with a quiet voice. He did as you asked without hesitation, his body tensing.

You shifted your body slightly-- hitting some random keys in the process so you could have better access to him. You placed your index finger on his neck and ran down his scar ever so delicately. Some would say it was a featherlight touch, you just didn't want to overwhelm him with the sensory that was going on. He wasn't a porcelain doll by any means, but you also felt like he didn't let people touch sensitive areas that reminded him of his past. Bradley inhaled sharply and you hesitated for a split second before continuing. Moments that only took seconds felt like a complete eternity to you, maybe for him too. Everything happened in slow motion for you. The area surrounding you both dissolved and you felt like you were floating and all of time had stood still with Bradley in front of you. Once you finished tracing that scar, you transitioned to the ones on his chin. The contrast of your soft skin against the stubble of his was making your insides melt. You noticed that Bradley was very still. A part of you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it was just you. However, something inside you refrained you from doing so, though, a little voice in the back of your head was telling you that this silence was exactly what he needed. You took your index finger back and used your pinky to touch the scar on his lower cheek near his mouth. Then the one near his ear. The pilot let out a shaky breath through his mouth, as he opened his eyes, still fixated on yours. Your heart was going a mile a minute, hand slightly shaking from the sensation that this caused you.

He was giving you a tender look, almost like he could finally breathe again. "Moonbeam." He said, "Bradley." You responded with your hands still on his face. The nickname had stuck after a second meeting, something he had never clarified with you. It wasn't common, and you didn't question him. You waited for him to speak, for him to say anything.

He turned his head face down and pressed his forehead against your abdomen, the grip on your hips tightening as he said something that you couldn't make out. "What?" You gasped before you could stop yourself. You felt the air he was breathing linger in your lower abdomen, as he spoke a little louder, "You make me feel less lonely." Once your brain registered the words that had been told, you wondered if he had brought anyone here. "Oh?" You queried him, hopefully not pushing him too much. Bradley picked his head up again as he looked back up at your face, "I don't bring people here. There's so much… but.. with you.. things feel easier." He managed to say, his voice slow and even. You could tell this was taking a toll, but you waited calmly. Your heart was instantly breaking and re-stitching itself as the words echoed in your brain.

Bradley Bradshaw was a sweet man. Bradley Bradshaw was someone that deserved to be love just like anyone else. Your thumb began to caress this cheek as he inhaled again, breathing you in, taking all of you and getting drunk from your scent alone. "I'm the first person you bring here?" You asked unable to stop yourself as your other hand went to the other side, now cupping his face. He nodded slightly, "I'm always moving about, but you've been the one consistent person here in Virginia… the bar is consistent, I wasn't expecting you to be there every time either." Perhaps, that was the catalyst of this all. You were usually there with friends, but tonight had been different. You were alone. Bradley was alone. Two people alone together was better than one.

This man was telling you everything with his body language, and you were listening very intently. "How are you feeling now?" You asked curiously as your lips pressed to his forehead. Your body began to feel at ease as his words continued to flow out of his mouth, "At ease." A scrunched up smile filled his features as you let out a soft laugh. The next movement surprised you, causing you to sit back on the keys while Bradley stood up, towering over your body as his hands went down to the hem of his shirt and dipped under to touch the soft flesh that was your skin. You blinked a couple of times as you said, "Why moonbeam?" You sputtered out, almost unable to form a coherent sentence. The pilot then brought his forehead to the crook of your neck, "…it's stupid." He whispered against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise and an involuntary shiver to go down your spine. "It's not stupid if I like it.." You remarked as your hands fell to your sides, your head tilting back to allow him more access your hair falling behind you cascading on top of the piano. "Whenever I leave for a mission or I'm gone for a tour… I just look at the moon and think of you." A shy boy spoke to you, but you didn't care, "You think of me?" You queried him again. The questions were pouring out of you now. You didn't know when you would get another chance like this and you would take it with everything you had.

His head snapped up to meet your gaze again, his hazel eyes boring into your own. Bradley then grabbed your hand and placed it over the erection in his boxers, a gasp leaving your mouth, "Don't you see what you do to me? How could I not think of you?" He asked, sounding equally as shocked as you were in asking, "I don't know, Bradley. Tonight was our first time together.. and I was just never sure, I guess." A small shrug followed your words, but you couldn't think anymore as he fiercely grabbed you by the hips and set you down on top of the piano before his hand wrapped around your neck. Your lips made a little oh face as his index finger trailed ever so slowly down the front of your body, between the fabric that was his shirt. You felt yourself arch your back in response to his advance while closing your eyes, thinking of the bliss that he was going to cause you again.

Your feet hit another set of random keys as you planted them on there, his mouth on your belly button while he distinctly said, "Make me forget again. Give me euphoria." Bradley Bradshaw told you. You frantically nodded as his hands pulled down your panties. You got the sensation of the cool air, but didn't budge.

Your questions would be answered later. For now. You would get lost with him in the bliss that you both created when two lonely souls met.

This was were you belonged.

[mothdruid]

Happy Birthday Babe! If you feel so inclined I would love smut prompt 22 (near death experience) with the words "I need to feel you" for the handsome Rooster if you would like to bless us with it!

❤️🍒🧅

I'm so sorry this took so long!! but alas, here it is!!

this 18+, mdni.

You didn’t know what to expect when Bradley showed up. There was no definite time for his return, but you thought he would be gone for at least another week or two. The sound of his duffle dropping from his hand onto the porch was startling.

"Bradley, what are you doing here?"

Immediately his lips were on yours, pushing you back into the foyer of your house. You couldn't deny him, your body aching for him already. The yearning for him and his touch from the past few weeks was at full force now. It was as if you had been in the desert, finally quenching the thirst you'd had for weeks.

"Your bag," you said between kisses.

"Don't care, I need to feel you."

The words were laced with lust and emotion. A lot of emotion. Your mind wandered for a moment, wondering what happened while he was gone. But that would be a question for another time. You didn't want to ruin the moment.

Bradley kicked the door shut as he continued to inch you in further. His mustache pricked at your skin, the sensation sending goosebumps all over your body. You missed this, missed him. The way he knew your body, playing it like the piano he was so skilled with. Hands ghosting over your body, squeezing at every curve he managed to touch. Lips trailing over your jawline, descending further down your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, each word searing the skin of your collarbone.

Bradley kept leading you back, the wall eventually touching your back. His honey locks were soft, your fingers threading through them. His hands skirted around the hem of your t-shirt, pushing it tightly against your hips.

"I missed you too, B," you said, a small moan falling from your lips.

His lips found their way back to yours, his hands finally slipping under your shirt. His fingers danced along your skin, retracing the body he knew all too well. One hand stayed on your hip, rocking your hips with his. The other slipped up your back, planting itself in the middle of your back. His entire forearm was touching you now, the sensation maddening.

"I need you," you whimpered.

"Me too," he replied.

Both of his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, moving it up and off you. Bradley thanked whatever higher power for your hatred of bras. One hand grabbed one of your tits, his mouth moving to latch onto the other. Your fingers tightened in his hair, the other hand grabbing his shirt tightly. It felt like a fire had engulfed your tit, a wet flame flicking at your nipple.

Bradley reveled in your moans. He had missed them badly, imagining them only did so much while he was away. But they were better than he remembered. He needed more though. He wanted you to sing for him, a song that wouldn't end til the next morning.

His hand left your tit, inching down your skin til it met the top of your leggings. His hand slipped in them and your underwear. You softly dropped your head back against the wall, gasping when his fingers found your clit. He let go of your nipple, coming up to kiss you.

It was a sloppy kiss, wet and needy from both of you. Those skilled fingers were rubbing circles on your clit, soft sounds coming from you. The sounds were all but consumed by Bradley, similar to how he was currently consuming your whole being. Bradley pulled back for a mere moment to look at you as you inched closer to your orgasm.

"God, you're everything I need," Bradley groaned.

With that you were done. Your body let go, coming all over his fingers. A string of moans fell from you, the song Bradley had wanted to hear since he docked. He kissed your face gently, removing his hand from your leggings. He waited for you, waited until you spoke.

"I hope that wasn't all you wanted," you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder.

"No, I'm planning on doing a lot more," Bradley said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter VI)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Stupid kids.

Little note: Carol and Nick is still alive.

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Not so angsty anymore🥹

July 22, 2022:

It was almost six weeks later that Bradley became suspicious.

They both hadn’t spent much time together since the last time, and he wanted to make up for lost time with his wife. So he decided to take a day off and make breakfast while you were still in bed.

He whistles as he makes the pancakes, turning around every now and then to check the coffee on the stove the way you like it. He puts the missing dishes on the tray, completing the breakfast you’ve been making for years; maple syrup, coffee, pancakes, hash browns, and toast.

He jots down the note, “I’ll always love you :).”

He hears you coming down the stairs and mentally prides himself on his perfect timing, quickly organizing everything and turning toward the door frame that separates the kitchen from the living room.

You enter the scene as he scratches his tangled nest of hair and tries to adjust the pj's that have been tossing and turning throughout the night, his face is imprinted with pillows and Bradley feels like he’s going to faint from how beautiful his wife is.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Hm.” You just smile, you don’t like talking to anyone when you’re barely awake and he knows that so he doesn’t force you.

You open your eyes and stop in your tracks when you see your breakfast, looking at your husband with a small smile and a blush on his face.

“Oh, Bradley!”

“It’s been a long time since we had breakfast together.” He mutters and you settle between his legs (you sat down so you could eat with him) and walk over to him to take his face in your hands, placing small kisses on his sparsely stubbled face and lips.

You sit down and the two of you start eating, chatting from time to time.

He looked proud of himself as he watched you eat pancakes with maple syrup, but you tasted the coffee and spit it back into the cup.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" He asks you with a hurt expression on his face.

"I'm sorry honey, but it tastes awful." 

You reply with a grimace as you pour yourself a glass of apple juice to drink it all down.

Bradley takes your coffee from you and takes a sip; it tastes perfectly normal, very good if he has to admit, but he decides to leave you alone and let you continue with a glass of apple juice.

You were happily continuing to eat, of course, until you popped a small piece of egg yolk into your mouth.

Bradley doesn’t have time to complain when you’re throwing up in the sink anyway.

He quickly drops his coffee and walks over to you, grabbing your hair and patting your back until you pull yourself together, wiping your face with the sleeve of his shirt as he looks at you.

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled with a pout that made Bradley’s heart ache.

“It’s okay, honey.” He pulls you into his chest. “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll put everything aside and join you as soon as I can.”

You nod and look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I messed this up.”

He smiles sadly as he brushes his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You didn’t mess anything up, to be honest, I was really looking forward to staying in bed with you.”

You leave and ten minutes pass while Bradley gets breakfast, maybe saving it for later. He’s washing the cups when he notices something while one of them drying in the sink.

He picks up his phone with his half-dried hands and opens the conversation he had with his mother a week ago.

"Everything is fine honey. Your cousin is pregnant and can't handle eggs and coffee so we're taking care of her now. Kisses, honey, I love you and Y/N!! 💕💞😘"

Eggs and coffee.

Eggs.

Coffee.

He grips the marble countertop as he tries to catch his breath.

Could it be..?

God, he's going to faint at the thought.

He couldn’t believe he had such a good memory to remember such a mundane message between his mother and him.

You run your hand over your face as you trie to come back to reality if she’s pregnant…or not..

Damn it, you can’t think straight, and if it wasn’t for Duke jumping on the counter and barking in your face, then you’d still be going crazy.

You turn off the faucet and run upstairs, ignoring Bradley's fuzzy nerves as he enters your shared bedroom, you stare at him in fear.

“Take a pregnancy test.” That’s all he says, and you get out of bed in confusion.

“What?” You ask, approaching him. “Are you okay? You look pale.” You cup his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He responds excitedly, letting you examine his face.

“Just, please, you have to.”

“Okay, I’ll do it and you’ll calm down.” He looks into your eyes and nods. “Come on.”

Bradley can barely control himself as you pee on four sticks to make sure, wandering the bathroom and bedroom until you come out.

“We need to wait five minutes, do you want to explain what’s going on?”

You both sit on the bed and hold his hands to comfort him, which does the trick.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but do you remember when my mom told me Marienne was pregnant and couldn’t stand eggs nor coffee?”

“Yeah.” You answer, and your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh my god. What do you think..”

“I don’t know.” Bradley shakes his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

The minutes pass and the both of you gets crazier and crazier; You feel like you're going to tear your hair out in desperation, and Bradley wants to throw up again for the tenth time as he playes with his rings.

There has to be something else, he doesn’t even know how to take care of babies, was it his paternal instinct? no, this is stupid, maybe he’s not going to be a father and he’s just going crazy.

He’s an idiot, now your hopes are up and he doesn't want to have to see the look of disappointment on your perfect face again.

So lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice you get up from behind him to re-enter the bathroom, slowly reappearing with four tests in your hands, unable to take your eyes off them as you mumble;

“Positive.”

Bradley raised his head as soon as he heard you, his eyes met your now teary ones and he stood up, approaching you, ypu are showing him all the positive lines that showed your baby growing inside you. His fucking wife is pregnant.

You put them down and throw yourself into your husband's arms, clinging to each other, making you both fall backwards onto the bed.

You cry into Bradley's chest while he cries into yours.

You feel like you're going to faint from the tears and sobs pouring out of both of your bodies, a tremendous happiness fills your entire body as millions of things go through your head. Same for him too.

Bradley talks to pregnant women's bellies, Bradley holds a small chubby baby, Bradley plays the piano with a small child, Bradley rocks a baby, Bradley and your babies will be like this.

Sooner or later, it would all come true.

Meanwhile, Bradley is still crying as if he's never cried in his life, you're sitting with him in your arms and he moves his hands between them to rest on your belly. "There's a baby inside," he says, his voice breaking.

You laugh and lean your forehead against his. "There's a baby inside."

Both of you look at each other, your eyes fill with tears and you both start laughing, you kiss, ignoring the salty taste of teardrops. You kiss, trying to convey everything that cannot be expressed in words to each other, but now there is someone who proves that their love is possible.

"A perfect blend of us,there it is." Bradley's and yours belly felt like there were fireworks inside. He can't wait to sing and play the piano to his love's growing belly, to hold that tiny hand.

He just can't wait.

"I love you." He sees the tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you part your lips. "I love you Bradley, we did it."

"We did it." He repeats, squeezing your waist between his hands. "We did it, we're having a baby, I told you."

"I can't believe you found out because I threw up your breakfast."

"Because you would never throw up something I make, I'm an incredible chef."

Both laugh again and Bradley flips both of you over, laying you between him and the bed, laughing at the kisses he spreads across your face, neck, and lifting the robe slightly to reveal the soft skin of your belly. 

It was keeping his baby warm in there.

Duke seems to notice the happiness that is coming from the room, he climbs into bed and cuddles up to his mother’s chest, who is happily caressing Bradley's hair and cheeck's.

Bradley kisses the area on your belly as you stroke Duke's scalp, and his tears continue to flow when he sees you talking to Duke about the baby.

He whispers something, but you and maybe someone else can hear him clearly.

“Welcome home, baby. You are already loved.”

“Yeah, I always wanted to have your stupid children.”

THEY MADE IT🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @roosterforme @teacupsandtopgun @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove @atarmychick007 if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[bruisedboys]

I have a concerning amount of Bradley Bradshaw thoughts, so I was so excited to see your post asking for them!! You also made a post about being bad at eye contact and I’ve never related to something more in my life. So…

I started thinking about Bradley and shy!r who can’t hold eye contact with him!! But I can’t decide if he’d be understanding or hold your face toward his and lovingly tease you. What do you think??

(This is my first time requesting but I’ve been following you for a while and love your blog!🤍)

omg. so I’ve decided he absolutely does the second one because he’s such a huge flirt …… also I made this a blurb hope you don’t mind !!

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x fem!reader

You’re out grocery shopping with Bradley (which is nerve wracking enough already, he keeps pulling you out of the way of other customers by the waist, leaning over your shoulder to read the ingredients on a tub of yoghurt you’re looking at, his face an inch from yours) when he stops in the ice cream section and just looks at you. At first you think you’ve got something on your face.

“What?” You ask, confused and a little self conscious.

“You look really pretty,” he says simply, smiling that awful (gorgeous) smile that you hate (love) and obliterating any thoughts of self consciousness you previously had. “I’m so in love with you I could die, sweetheart. Seriously.”

Your heart seems to explode out of your chest. Your face gets hot and you’re sure your legs almost give out. You can’t look at him any longer because he’s so handsome and he’s lovely and kind and looking at him means knowing he’s looking right back at you. With his stupid gorgeous brown eyes and pretty smile and undeniably handsome moustache.

You avert your gaze to the linoleum floor. Staring at it as if it will save you from your incredibly sweet boyfriend. And then said boyfriend starts laughing. He laughs and you should be offended, should tell him off for laughing at you when you’re literally being tortured in the middle of the grocery store, but his laugh is maybe your favourite sound in the whole world.

Bradley drops the carton of ice cream he’s holding in the cart and surges forward to take your face in his hands, never rough but definitely demanding of your attention.

“Babe,” he says, faux serious, eyebrows pinched in an almost-glare, though his grin betrays the act. He lifts your jaw so you’re looking at him again. “I’m talking to you. You know it’s rude to look away while I’m talking to you.”

He’s joking, of course he is. He knows how shy you are and would never ever demean you for it. Still, you struggle to meet his eyes, opting for staring at his nose instead.

“Bradley,” you say, breathless but trying not to be. “You can’t just say something like that while I’m trying to get groceries. It’s life ruining.”

“Life ruining!” Bradley laughs, loud and ecstatic. “You’re life ruining. You’re so lovely it makes me sick. Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my gosh,” you complain, almost begging with him. “Stop.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip (he doesn’t put up much of a fight at all. If he did you’d still be firmly stuck), and step away, hot around the collar, stomach churning with butterflies, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Bradley just grins at you. “You’re cute,” he says. “Come on, let’s find the sprinkles. Do you want chocolate syrup too?”

You honestly don’t think your stomach could handle it.

[princessmisery666]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

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

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

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

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

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

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

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

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

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take them, Pattie!”

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

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

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

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

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

You: Stood up again. Where you guys at?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touché,” he chuckles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t even know your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you sing as good as me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the fries.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

“You too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the Goose move?”

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

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

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

“So, no pressure,” Bob gulps. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thick?” 

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

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

Damn, he can sing! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tag List Info

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

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