#rooster headcanon

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

afterwards and turn on for bradley if you please! 💁🏼‍♀️

Dear Jordan,

I guess I escalated a tiny bit with your prompts but I hope you can still enjoy them. They are not specific for one version of Bradley but more my general take so far. Thank you very much for the chance to get a bit into his pretty little head. It was super fun

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

afterwards — what kind(s) of aftercare do they like being given? do they like giving their partner aftercare? do they fall asleep quickly after sex?

Bradley strikes me as the king of aftercare. That man is so affectionate and loving he will not rest until he has the feeling that his partner is not just feeling ok but feels good, comfortable and especially safe. The kind of aftercare he resorts to is highly dependent on what you as his partner need in the moment and how intense the sex/scene is. He will allow you a moment of reprieve (and he would totally revel in you cockwarming him with your pussy post orgasm until he slips out because he does crave that connection more than anything else) but then his absolute bare minimum requirement is cleaning you up with a washcloth (whether warm or cold depends on preference and the weather) and making sure you drink something. Doesn't have to be much, but hydration is necessary. He'll probably offer something to eat too and if you refuse he'll leave it on your nightstand in case you need it later. If he takes you to the ensuite to clean you up he will carry you or support you (let's be real, he's the kind of guy to ruin his partners in most scenarios. It's kinda unlikely that your legs are functioning properly anyway) and then he'll take you into the shower with him. His touch is very affectionate as he washes you. If you'd like him to he'll also wash your hair and give you a scalp massage while he's at it, letting you rest as much of your weight on him as you want to. He gets out the super fluffy towels and wraps you up, helping you with whatever routine you need to do before bed before he carries you out and then cuddles up with you in bed. If you'd want to wear something, he'd probably prefer for it to be something of him. And then all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you and feel your body melt against his. He enjoys being the big spoon but it's even better if he has your head resting on his chest and your leg thrown over his waist. He likes the weight that presses him into the mattress and grounds him. Bradley can only fall asleep if you have fallen asleep first (unless he's completely exhausted, but even then he will fight sleep with everything because he doesn't like the idea that you could start feeling uncomfortable/have a drop and he's not there for you.

When it comes to aftercare for himself, he lives for words of affirmation and praise. Especially if it was a rougher scene and he might left bruises on your skin from handling you rough or spanking or he fucked you particularly hard, he will need the reassurance that this was what you truly desired and you loved every second of it. Soft touch and gentle caress is another big thing for him, especially if you left your marks on him too and so are lazy kisses pressed to his skin while you lay there and relax before he goes into full aftercare mode. If he takes you to the shower he will not complain if you are taking care of him just as much as he does for you although he'll probably stop you in case he feels like he's getting hard again. This is to wind down, not to get ready for another round. And if it's his pick, he'll prefer your skin against his as you fall asleep together. There is just something calming about that for him, especially post-deployment he is particularly needy for that kind of contact.

There are days when he cannot provide you with the full aftercare experience. Could be because of his mental state (work was particularly draining) or because you took the lead and ruined him thoroughly. Most of the prior points are still true, but in those moments in particular he needs to be the one who gets held. He totally gets when you cannot haul his dead-weight ass into the shower, so cleaning up with a washcloth is more than sufficient before you give him something to drink and offer food (selective whether he accepts or not though. You leave it on the night stand just in case next to the bottle of water) and then he needs you as close as humanly possible, resting his head on your chest in a way he cannot only feel you breathe but also listen to your heartbeat. A reminder that he's right where he belongs, by your side and in your arms with his arms wrapped around your waist and your fingers gently carding through his hair. Even in this state, he will fight sleep, no matter if you tell him to rest or not but once he feels how your heartbeat is calm and your breathing evens out, the man is out like a light.

And not sure if that's still solid aftercare territory but he will love on any kind of mark/bruise he left on your body whenever he catches a glimpse. Could be in the bathroom while you are getting ready and he presses kisses to your red/bruised ass cheeks, could be at the Hard Deck when he sees the hickey he left on your neck. He doesn't care much if the rest of the squad thinks it's cheesy/gross, but it's a visible reminder of your intimacy and the bond you share and he loves to remember you that he cherishes what he has with you, even if the way you get those marks are rarely soft and sweet.

turn on — what turns them on?

How extensive do we want that list to get?

I think the biggest is the existence of the person he loves. It's cheesy but still. If that man is love the rest is irrelevant. He watches you walk around the house nude, he's hard, if he watches you chatting with Phoenix at the Hard Deck while you wear a lovely sundress that hits below the knee, he's ready to pounce you. You could be covered head to toe in baggy clothes and still. He's on his knees for you.

Another big thing for Bradley is a good d/s dynamic. He's navy, so the whole authority thing is something deeply ingrained in him and he revels in you calling him by his rank or using another label of authority. It gives him a rush and in a way it's a sign of trust and respect. You don't have to use that honorific, so you giving him those is big and you are fully prepared to use it against him whenever you want something.

As gentle and as loving as Rooster is, there is a rough and primal side to him and when that gets triggered by his emotions for someone or a feeling of jealousy. Then he will get very much rough. He sees someone looking at you in a way he considers indecent, he will get ready to mark his territory (the number of times he filled your pussy with cum in the broom closet/restroom of the Hard Deck to stake his claim over you... and the number of times one of his squad mates stumbled in on you XD)

And he is a sucker for voices. Especially yours. Be it you moaning into his ear while he fucks you or whispering something to him at the Hard Deck or when he's deployed and you only have your phone calls, he doesn't need much more than a few words and he's mad with lust and desire. If you praise him or beg for more, he's a goner and will give you whatever you desire. You are his siren and he's the sailor who doesn't mind if you drown him if only you keep talking while you pull him down with you.

Last point I'll put here before this completely goes out of hand. I think his ultimate weakness is the person he cares for/loves showing care for him. Can be something as raunchy as buying a lingerie set in his favourite colour or something as filthy as waiting for him at home, completely naked because you know he loves your body and he will take any chance he gets to just come up behind you and take what you offer or could be something as sweet and mundane as sending him a care package full of sweets with a lovely letter telling him that you miss him and you are looking forward to seeing him again.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Would've Could've Should've | Masterlist

summary: Beau Simpson was never part of your plan. He shouldn’t have been. Less with the fact that he is your Top Gun Instructor and boss, even less with that golden band on his finger, and yet, you can’t seem to look any other way. At least, until Bradley Bradshaw comes around and decides that he can teach you a lesson or two about life and love. 

Poisonous words, Californian air, winless fights, midnight kissing in spite of everything else. Beau Simpson was never good at losing and Bradley Bradshaw would never give up a fight. 

Love isn’t tears and blood, it isn’t red. It’s golden.

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw masterlist

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prologue | chapter one ( you can read it early on my ko-fi!)

updates on monday, wednesday, friday

also, smut:*

warnings: power imbalance (teacher, student), 20+ years age gap, toxic relationships. As the story progresses warnings will be added.

[lieutenantfloyd]

Omgg can you imagine rooster tickling the reader cuz he loves her laugh?? Kind of like the gif below ☺️ If you could do a headcanon of that, that’d be awesome, if you’re not able to then no worries 🤗

Touch — B. Bradshaw

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x reader

Warnings: none

a/n: This is such a cute idea and totally something Rooster would do!

Your day at work had been particularly taxing, and all you could think about on your drive home was cuddling up with him

As you kicked off your shoes by the front door, you could hear the tv playing quietly upstairs

Silently thanking your lucky stars that Bradley was already home.

He greets you at the the stairs with a hug and a warm smile, already sensing the day you had

You let your shoulders drop as he effortlessly leads you back to bed with him

You traded your work clothes for one of Bradley’s shirts before crawling in between the sheets

Once you were settled he pulled the blanket around you both, humming softly at the way your bodies naturally fit together

You lay on your side while his arms found their way around you

Neither of you spoke much, instead letting yourselves simmer in the quiet and comfortable intimacy

As the minutes passed on, you really did your best to remain focused on the movie playing

But your mind couldn’t ignore the feeling of his hand on your stomach, resting underneath your shirt.

his hands and fingers both were restless, dancing over the skin of your ribs and hips

Taking a deep breath, you continued your losing fight sgainst the urge to laugh

You were all but certain he was doing it absentmindedly, but it tickled

Just as his fingertips made their way up over your hips, a soft giggle escaped you

You hoped he didn’t notice your slip up, simply because you knew exactly what would happen as he did

Just as you finished that thought, his eyes shifted toward you

Your face heated up as he examined your face quizzically

“Your fingers. They tickle.” You whispered

It only took a second for his brown eyes to light up with playfulness

His strength and reflexes left you no time to react before he trapped you against him and commenced a relentless tickling attack

The sound of the forgotten movie now drowned out by the joyous laughter escaping you both

[sunflowerlando]

What dating Bradley would be like:

*slightly mature stuff below the break. minors beware (nothing explicit but adult times mentioned)*

you have so much fun with this man. whether it’s alone time together, emails/phone calls/texts/video calls, or time with his “family” (aka the squad) you’re just constantly laughing and smiling. you’ve been welcomed into the group with open arms and you’re so happy to have them.

he is obsessed with having his hands on you (lbr his love language is physical touch). holding hands when you’re out walking around, him slapping you on the butt every time he has a chance, hugging you to him whenever you’re out at the bar with your friends

he dotes on you. he sees something small at the store that he knows you’ll like? purchased. you had a tough day and don’t feel like functioning? he’s cooking you both dinner or going to grab your favorite takeout.

the times when he’s deployed are difficult, but he makes every effort to be present with you and make every moment count while he’s home. he doesn’t care what’s on the tv as long as he gets to snuggle on the couch with you.

you pick fun at each other for random dumb stuff all the time. he picks on you for your taste in music and your celebrity crushes. you pick on him for his Hawaiian shirts and his sports teams. to outsiders it may seem like you guys are mean, but it’s just how you show love.

he’s not one of those guys that’s bothered by you liking romance novels or having a sex toy. he knows you still have needs when he’s gone, and he likes to steal some ideas from your books anyway.

your sex life is definitely not lacking. the combination of the time apart making your need for each other when you are together insane and the fact that he’s handsy is just *chefs kiss*. also doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous in and out of uniform.

you know it isn’t everyone’s thing, but the mustache really works for you. it adds to your bedroom experience in ways you didn’t know you were missing with men before. he knows if he shaves it you’ll be disappointed.

he is a giver. he makes sure you’re taken care of in all aspects of life (including the sex department). aftercare and consent are always priorities and you’re thankful for whatever brought this man into your life.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

I headcanon that Doc and Rooster had a better relationship than Mav and Rooster had after the papers incident. Doc was very hissy with her husband after it happened and gave him the cold treatment like:

HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO OUR ALMOST SON??

Oh yes Mrs. Mitchell was not pleased to learn what took place between Mav and Rooster. She would totally make sure Rooster remained in contact with her (although I can see her respecting his mothers wishes and Mav’s decision to keep it secret 😭)

But yeah she’d make her opposition well known to Mav cause she hates seeing Rooster upset

[notroosterbradshaw]

howdy, fellow rooster enthusiast!🤠🤎

I don't know if you're taking asks, but if you are, I have an idea that has been marinating in my mind for a WHILE: rooster's reaction to a reader with a lot of tattoos??? *high pitched screaming*

for a bit of context, this thot was based on real events lmaoooo😃 my boss hired this new girl and all my coworkers thought she looked so mysterious?? She's quiet, keeps it to herself and she's also really pretty. She keeps a serious face at all times too (but also there are a lot of weird people at work so I don't blame her lol) and no one really knows much about her.

We had a work get-together (we have these every end of the month) and we saw her out of 'work clothes' for the first time and boy oh boy we had a surprise. She was wearing a tank top that displayed the most beautiful dragon tattoo I've ever seen 😭😭 it took over her whole arm and back. She looked so badass. Ugh. All my coworkers were just as stunned as me bc everyone just assumed she was shy or whatever. Anyways, this somehow made me think of rooster ���

Like?? Imagine reader is new to dagger squad and has moved to san diego recently. She's been introduced to them and all but they don't know much about her yet and she's so mysterious and snarky ~~ Nat invites her for a game on the beach and they see her with 'normal clothes' for the first time and she's sporting a huge tattoo on her thigh/back/arm (idk maybe all of them, the more the merrier lmaoo)

idk why but something tells me rooster has a thing for mean women. Like-- women that can beat his ass. And reader is so smart mouthed and sarcastic. He already thought she was attractive but when he sees the tattoos??? ooooof this man is on his knees. He would be a blushing mess trying not to stare too much and acknowledge her short shorts and tank top. And then would spend the rest of the afternoon wondering where else she has tattoos 🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️💨💨💨

Can you tell I have a thing for tattoos?? UGH, I would be in a whole new level of confidence if I had the money to cover myself in pretty tattoos lol, I'll leave it to you, feel free to ignore this if you don't like it <3 I love your writing btw xoxo

-🧛🏾‍♀️

My love, I can’t add to this, because your headcanon is far too sexy for me to do it justice! Come back to my asks with more of these thots. I know lots of our friends have lots of body art and you will do it more justice than I will.

I don’t have tatts but have had an assortment of piercings over the years.

It’s Body Art Friday, kids. And Rooster (and I) love it! TELL. ME. MORE!

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ Trying to draw Harbingers with different hairstyles, so here's… uh, Grandpa Pulcinella?

Part 5

[dearsnow]

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

[outalongtheedges]

Rooster/Maverick: I’m the way I am because my dad died when I was young.

Hangman/Iceman: I’m the way I am because my dad didn’t die when I was young.

Masterlist

[buckysdollforlife]

Ok but that’s GOALS though to have a man like Rooster.

Lt. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw As Your Husband (Pt. I)

Author’s Note: This is my first headcanon for Rooster/Top Gun: Maverick. This man is currently taking up all the space in my brain, so I’d love to continue writing for him!

Warnings: Super fluffy fluff.

- This man literally calls you anything except your given name. Seriously. “Baby,” “baby girl,” darling,” “sugar lips,” “my girl,” “honey.” He has a million and one pet names for you and he isn’t afraid to use them.

- Since your wedding, his favorite thing to call you is “Mrs. Bradshaw.”

- Every morning, before he leaves for work, he always makes sure to give you a kiss goodbye and say, “I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

- “I love you, too, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you always tell him with a wink, which makes him smile on his way out the door.

- He carries one of your wedding photos with him whenever he flies.

- At your wedding, Rooster definitely took over the piano at one point and serenaded you and your guests with “Great Balls of Fire” in memory of his dad.

- He pulled you down onto his lap while he played, just like Goose always used to do with Carole.

- Maverick made a speech at your wedding about how proud Goose and Carole would be of Bradley, and how much they would have loved you. You could tell it made Rooster emotional, so you squeezed his hand the whole time. He never let go.

- The two of you barely got to eat anything at your wedding because you were too busy spinning around on the dance floor all night.

- For your honeymoon, the two of you spent a week in Hawaii. You’d like to say you took in all the sights, but the truth was that you were pretty well occupied in your hotel suite for the majority of the week.

- Once you got home from your honeymoon, you began working on making your new apartment a real home for you and Rooster. He insisted on handling all the heavy lifting and wanted to ensure that you barely had to lift a finger.

- After a few weeks, once everything was painted and sorted, and all the new furniture was moved in, Rooster made a big show of carrying you over the threshold of the apartment.

- “You really are crazy, you know that?” you laughed, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

- “Crazy for you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he told you with a playful smirk, stealing a kiss.

- “Dork,” you grinned, letting out a squeal of delight as he kissed you again and carried you towards your bedroom.

- As a final touch, you hung your favorite portrait of the two of you from your wedding day in the living room. Beside it, you hung a photograph of Goose and Carole from their wedding.

- “They look so happy,” you murmured softly as Rooster wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pressed an affectionate kiss to your shoulder. You always wished you could have gotten a chance to meet his parents. You can tell how much he loves them from the stories he’s told you.

- “They were,” Rooster told you, pressing his cheek against yours. “God, they would have loved you.” He tells you that all the time, and you believe him.

- “I would have loved them, too.” Your response brings a smile to his face.

- Rooster is an extremely thoughtful husband. Every night when he comes home from work, he always has a present for you. Usually it’s flowers, but sometimes it’s your favorite candy or a pint of your favorite ice cream.

- “How’s my best girl?” he always asks, giving you a kiss as soon as he walks through the door. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing–cooking dinner, cleaning the bathroom, folding laundry–he always interrupts you with a kiss. It’s an interruption you gladly welcome.

- “I love you so much,” he tells you while you’re lying in his arms at night. “Marrying you is the greatest adventure I’ve ever had.”

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Would've Could've Should've | prologue

listen to: Would've Could've Should've- Taylor Swift| Happiness Is a Butterfly - Lana del Rey (playlist here)

warnings: power imbalance (teacher, student), 20+ years age gap, toxic relationships. Drinking. Implied smut. Grief. As the story progresses warnings will be added.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

He was already inside the bar, quite a while there before you entered it. You didn’t notice him at first, not really. You were too spent to notice him first. The dimly lit room, sparsely populated with only a few patrons scattered around didn’t allow you to get a good look at him. 

He, instead, noticed you right away. There was something about you, a melancholy that he himself felt. It wasn’t per se that you’d made it obvious. No. The older he got, the more he simply knew things. Sometimes. Not all the time. Not really, right now as he nursed the whiskey in his hand, he only felt lost. He stole a glance at you, he noticed the way your face was contorting as you stared at your phone for a moment, the way you struggled not to cry for a single second. Eyes changing, a small kind smile, to Jimmy who asked you for your order. 

“A Martini?” 

He liked your voice. He enjoyed the way it was soft, the way you weren’t ordering anyone, he enjoyed the doubt, he relished in it. He enjoyed it when he was young and didn’t know much. It made you seem as if you hadn’t ordered it before. The corners of his lips tugged slightly before he sipped again on his whiskey, looking away momentarily. 

The bartender, an old man that night, brought you your drink silently. You took it and stared at it for a moment. Your mother wouldn’t like you drinking. She wouldn’t agree. It wasn’t you. You knew she was right, it wasn’t your thing to drink on a Tuesday night. It wasn’t you to cut out all of your friends. It wasn’t like you to move to the other side of the country without telling anyone. But the more you thought, without her, who did you really have?

Looking up suddenly, you feel his gaze and turn, your eyes meet his. His eyes were a deep shade of blue. He was approximately in his late forties, early fifties if you weren’t forgiving. His hair was soft and black, with a hint of white in the corners. There was an air about him that suggested he was cold and intelligent. You weren’t sure how to react, you stared at him. 

And then he smiled at you.  

“First drink of the day?” his voice low and raspy as his eyes fell on the Martini. 

If you were honest, it was your first drink in over a year. You hadn’t had time to drink while you were taking care of your mom. As you sat there, you realized that you hadn’t done a lot of things in your life. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out with difficulty. 

He stares when your hair falls in soft waves around your face. He’d seen his fair share of beautiful people but he felt drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite decipher. A moth to a flame. You shine, sparkling like champagne in the light but then you again, you seemed like you wanted to hide. 

“You?” you asked, watching him intently. 

Beau shook his head. “Not my first,” he confessed. For some reason, he felt self-conscious about the way you were looking at him. He was probably too old for this. In truth, you were thinking he looked lonely too. And for a moment, since your mother, you felt seen. 

“What’s your name?” you asked him, a little bit more forward than before. 

“Beau,” he said. 

“Very French,” you answered, smiling approvingly. 

It didn’t suit him. He seemed to be the type of the men who had a stronger name at first glance but the more you stared at him, you believed you were missing something.  

“You?”

He smiled approvingly as well when you told him. He repeated it, slowly, he enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. You relished the way he said it. His eyes crinkle as he smiled at you. A surprising softness in the way he looked at you, made your heart beat faster for a moment. 

“What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a student,” you answered, honestly. 

Beau cursed himself as his gaze traveled through your whole body. You didn’t give it away. A black pair of heel boots, those jeans, an oversize cream sweater. He understood it was cold, it was December, but you were dressed more conservatively than any of his students. It was also the way you carried yourself, there was a halo about you. You were grown up or you’d been forced to grow up. 

“You don’t look like a student to me,”

You raised your eyebrows as you sipped your Martini. “What do I look like to you?” you asked, giving him a sly side glance. 

Beau’s heart faltered for a moment. At least, that’s what he believed. The way your face lit up, it was a work of art. You were so beautiful, it was almost unfair. It was unfair that you probably hadn’t been born by the time he’d chosen a wife, it was unfair that he hadn’t met you before, it was unfair that he met you today when he’d fought with his wife for what it seemed like the million time this week. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered clearing his throat once he caught that he’d been silent for too long. “You just seemed more mature than for being a student,”

Suddenly, you felt stunned. The statement slices a painless cut in you. He wouldn’t know. He shouldn’t have known that’s what every adult told you since you were a kid. That you’ve always been responsible and mature, that you’ve always been able to relate more to adults, that you never needed someone to take care of you, that you were the one taking care of your mom. For the first time in forever, you don’t relish what he believes is a compliment. 

“It must be a lot,” he said when he figured your mind had gone somewhere else. 

“What?”

“To be as mature as you are,” he answered. “I understand,”

You are stunned, once again. You gaze at him as he takes the last sip of his whiskey and with a sigh, he gazed back at you. You were watching him wide-eyed, searching his features for something. He can see it, the way he just stroked a chord. You were watching him as if he’d known you your whole life. 

 “You want another drink?”

You pressed your lips together as you stared at the Martini for a moment, you tilted your head sideways as you weighed your options. The more responsible part of you thought that you should leave it at that. The other part, well, that other part was the one you’ve been holding back. 

“Thank you,” you said with a nod. 

Beau ordered both of your drinks with a certain ease. He wasn’t like the men you met before. He wasn’t like the boys your age. He didn’t seem cruel. He didn’t seem as insecure as they were. He didn’t seem too entranced by the idea of sex. He seemed like he actually cared. 

“What actually brought you here, if I may ask?” he said quietly as he took another sip of the whiskey. 

“I’m a student,” you answered, drinking your second Martini. “They called me because I’m the best,”

Beau smirked slightly. Nodding, he drank. He savored the way you’d said that you were the best, he enjoy confidence. For him, when he was your age, it seemed like it was the only thing he had. Sure, he was good looking and he was good with planes, but honestly what made him was his confidence. He gazed at you, those eyes looking at him through those long lashes, you felt like a dream. 

“You?”

Beau sighed defeatedly. “Been living here since my twenties,” he said. 

“Never left?”

“Left a lot of times,”

You nodded softly as your eyes took him in. You hadn’t noticed previously, but there, under his leather jacket, you easily could identify the beige uniform. He was Navy. By his age, he was probably an Admiral. You watch him drinking the whiskey, not aware of the way you suddenly tensed up. You could always ask him about it. You could always let him know that you were going to become a student in the next week at Top Gun, you could leave it at this. Selfishly though, you didn’t want to. 

It’d been a while since you’d met someone who actually caused an impression on you. 

“So, Beau,” you said softly. “Tell me about you with one rule,”

His lips tugged upward softly as he watched you, the way you were tilting your head, the way your cheeks were tinted with pink, your rosy lips, that sly smile. 

“Anything you want, doll,” he teased.

He saw you pressing your lips together, trying to drown the smile you felt. He could see how your eyes shimmered at the nickname. Maybe he’d embarrassed you and he truly had, doll sounded like something from the 80s but then again, it’d made your heart flip on your chest.

“Nothing about work,” you said softly, taking a sip and peacefully waiting. 

Beau’s brows furrowed for a moment. He waited, but you didn’t elaborate. A faint alarm could be heard in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. 

“Done,” 

The night passed along. You talked about Queen and Aerosmith. Beau told you how he was never really interested in the Royal Family, you talked about how your mother had told you about Princess Diana since you could remember. You talked about politics but both of you decided to drop the topic soon enough because it was getting to a heated conversation. You talked about ‘One-Hundred Years of Solitude’, how Beau’s father had forced him to read it while you’d stolen it from your mother. You discussed the Yellow butterflies and the way Remedios rose to the sky. He talked about his father and his mother, and how strict they were. You laughed at the stories of his youth, and when he asked you about yours, you told him that you’d been a quiet girl with not many stories to tell. He’d told you that you were still young, that you could still make stories. You wondered if he meant he could be part of them. Then, you talked about what you’re going to do for Christmas and New Year's, you end up telling him that you are going to be alone since you don’t know anyone here and your mom’s gone. 

You don’t expect it to roll so easily off your tongue if you were honest. The warmth of the alcohol fills your belly in such a pleasant way, bubbles climb to your brain and so suddenly your chest doesn’t ache so badly as you tell him that she was sick and had been gone for a month. Beau, who also began to feel like he was levitating around his fifth drink, gazes back at you with a puzzled look. 

When his parents passed away, although he didn’t express much. He always felt comforted by the presence of Lauren and his kids. All of them knew he was sad but he never said anything, all of them knew he needed them. He bit his inner cheek as he recalled those days, the days when he clung to Lauren and his family. It didn’t pass through his mind that he’d been looking for time to get away from them in those days. 

“So, honestly, why are you here?” he then asked softly. “If you’re alone, you could’ve stayed with your friends,”

You shrugged. 

“That’s not an answer,” he said more sternly. You snorted softly while sipping the last of your fifth Martini. In fifteen minutes midnight would come and now you didn’t have it in yourself to be a bit more careful with your words. 

“I don’t want to tell you,” you confessed. 

Beau gave you one of his amused looks. 

“No?”

“No,” you answered shaking your head as you stared at him. His face was lit up with amusement as he stared at you, biting his lower lip. You took a deep breath as you weighed your options, you decided on the latter. “Because you’ll never want to fuck me,”

For a moment Beau thought he didn’t hear you correctly. And then he looked at you, you were dripping beauty, youthfulness. Your eyes for a moment, he could see, were full of lust and that confidence that he now felt so deprived of. There was something inside of him that woke up with you. 

“I didn’t mean,” you began to retract as soon as he didn’t answer. 

Beau shook his head, worried he might’ve offended you and suddenly he held you had. 

Your breathing stopped as you watched his large hand covering yours, holding you. He was cold, goosebumps erupted on your skin as you watched him touch you, then your eyes fell on his. You could see he was trying to hold back, fighting with himself about what he should do. He exhales a sigh. 

“I’m just too old for a girl like you,” he answered softly but he gets closer to you, closer than he’d ever been throughout the whole night. 

Beau, who had been planning to return to his house where his wife was with his three children, was suddenly secretly waiting that you would fight him back on it. He watched you take in the answer as you bit your cheek and nodded softly, for a moment looking away but then scooting closer to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” you answered. 

“What?”

You shrugged but still, he waited for an answer, mostly demanding it by the way he was looking at you. 

“I believe I’m not too young for me to fuck you,” you answered with a Cheshire smile. “Maybe, you’re just too old to fuck me,”

Beau scoffed a small chuckle and for the first time his smile spread all over his face, his eyes crinkled as he watched you in awe, your face lit up in a soft laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he mumbled.

“You’ve given me more alcohol than I’ve had in nine months, this is your fault,” you said shaking your head. You looked around the bar, it was almost empty now. “I’m going to go home,” you finally stated. 

“Let me take you,” Beau said in a hurry as he felt you slipping away. 

You looked back at him for a moment and then down at your hands, his touch lingering. For a moment, you wanted to let him take you but then you saw the gold band on his finger. Swallowing hard you stared at it for a moment. Everything had been so good until that moment, your heart aches at the thought. It wasn’t fair. 

“You’ve been drinking,” you stated as you pulled your hand away, for a moment, the better part of you taking control of yourself. 

“You can’t seem to hold down your liquor,” he answered as he placed some bills on the bar. Nodding towards the older guy while you put on your coat, faster than he expected you to. 

Beau didn’t really know what to do with himself but when he realized, he was closer to you than ever before. So close that he could smell the vanilla and almonds scent from your hair. You tilted your head up, gazing at him for a moment. 

And then just then he realized he never wanted to stop seeing you. 

“If you take me home we will have sex,” you whispered. 

“I don’t see anything wrong in that,” he breathed out. 

You raised your eyebrows at the statement. He didn’t seem to be insincere, he was telling you the truth. But you couldn’t believe it, not even if you wanted to. So, you asked again. 

“You sure you don’t?” you asked, watching him through your long lashes. Beau didn’t answer, he simply shook his head as his hand suddenly fell on your hip. You swallowed hard as you stared at him, pretending that his hand touching you didn’t light a fire inside of you. 

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me,” you finally breathed out. 

A last attempt to dissuade him and yourself, to pull back. But as you heard yourself you knew that it wasn’t true, what you really meant was ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you’. 

“I think it’s too late for that,” 

author's note: I'm so excited about this fic! Let me know your thoughts! I had a depressive episode this week lols. so it's been hard to write but I'm really proud that I've forced myself to write this!

taglist: @abaker74 @mandylove1000 @theyneedhelplol

[lieutenantfloyd]

PSA for blog plagiarizing/stealing fics !!

The blog @/kristenadrianna has stolen my Rooster headcanons and the title from my Little Things series. Please block and report them!

They don’t have many posts on their blog yet, but I want to get word out there so that this doesn’t to happen to any other writers.

They also have posts for the Harry Potter, descendants, and The summer I turned pretty fandoms. I am not apart of these fandoms so I’m unsure if they’re stolen too, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

[military-newsboys]

Ice: Why would you give a knife to a child??

Mav: Bradley felt unsafe.

Ice: Well, now I feel unsafe!

Mav: I'm sorry.

Mav:

Mav: Would you like a knife?

[jake-seresin]

ahhh be still my beating heart!!! 😭 this was so domestic and fluffy, truly the pick me up i needed today! 🫶🏼

one of the girls.

(Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Trigger Warnings: Nothing I can think of, just fluff <3

A/N: I’m currently writing another insanely long fic but it’s taking me forever and a half. Perhaps posting a shorter one first will give me the push I need. We’ll see. Enjoy some Rooster content where he gets in touch with his feminine side (as we all know, he drinks The Feminist Elixir™️). Also my friend and I were discussing the fact that Rooster is a gossip man. You got work drama? Someone talking smack about someone’s ex’s girlfriend’s cousin’s daughter’s husband? He’s INVESTED, he’s pulling out the popcorn. We don't make the rules but also yes we do.

(P.S. This is the first little fic I've written since my 2013 Wattpad days, please be gentle lmfao)

Summary: Penny asks you to watch Amelia (your goddaughter) for the night and Rooster tags along :)

After getting off work, you decide to head down to the Hard Deck as per your usual Friday evening routine. It had been a long, exhausting day even if it was only 6pm, but you always had time and energy for Fridays at the Hard Deck. Everybody you loved was always there…Maverick, Penny, Phoenix, Coyote, Fanboy, Bob, Hangman (yes, even Hangman), but mainly Rooster—your lovely, warm, incredibly funny and cheeky charming boyfriend. At the end of your longest, saddest, most frustrating days, he always knew exactly how to cheer you up or at least take the edge off. Even just having him in the same vicinity was comforting…like an emotional heat lamp or weighted blanket for the soul. And his hugs…oh, lord, his hugs. Warm, safe, always a bit tight but never too much; at your most broken, it felt like he could just hug you back together. Every time you reunited at the end of the day, he would greet you with one of these hugs, a sweet kiss to some part of the face, and a cheeky “hi beautiful”, and it never waned, even after the several years you had been together. Tonight at the Hard Deck was no exception. 

When you walked in the door, you were greeted with the familiar smell of mixed perfumes and colognes, the faint smell of alcohol, beach wood, and salty air. You scanned the crowd for familiar faces, ultimately landing on Penny behind the bar. You approached, trying to get her attention over the noise.

“Busy night?” You shout. She turns around, giving you a warm smile, while somehow juggling too many glasses and bottles of beer in her arms. 

“You could say that,” she laughs, attempting to set them down and disperse them to the people crowding the counter. As they all took their drinks, some disappeared elsewhere in the room. “You know how Friday nights are.”

Indeed, I do. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Penny says, turning to you with an inquisitive yet guilty look on her face. “And you can 100% say no if you want to.”

“What is it? Is everything okay?” You ask, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah…it’s just-” She trails off, now fidgeting with random objects behind the counter “Pete and I…we-...well, we haven’t  been able to get much alone time since the mission happened and I was wondering if you could hangout with Amelia tonight while we have some time for ourselves. I know it’s last minute but-”

“Say no more,” You interrupt, laughing “she’s my goddaughter, I would love to.”

“Are you sure? This won’t interrupt any plans you have with Bradley?”

“I think the plan for tonight was just to hangout here,” you smile, grabbing a beer from behind the counter. “It’s all good, really. You two deserve some alone time.” 

“You are an angel, truly,” she smiles. “Amelia is at the house–probably with her head in some book–so just head over whenever you like. I should be back by tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good, I’ll leave in a bit.”

“Leaving me so soon?” a raspy voice says behind you. You suddenly feel those all-too-familiar arms wrap around you, and you can’t help but smile. You feel a soft kiss on your neck and a slight tickle from that damn 80’s stache. You turn your head toward Rooster to see him looking down into your eyes, smiling softly as he places a gentle kiss to your lips. “Hi beautiful.” he whispers. There it was. 

“Hey stranger.”

“What evil are you two scheming?” He chuckles, motioning towards you and Penny.

“World domination,” you say “but only after I’m done watching Amelia for the night.”

“Hmm…sounds fun. Am I invited?”

“I was thinking it could be more of a….” you trail off, looking at Penny, and she smiles. “girl’s night. Just me and Amelia, ya know—watch chick flicks, do facemasks, paint nails, gossip…the whole nine yards.”

Rooster steps aside slightly, one arm still around your waist as he raises his other hand to his chest dramatically. He gasps, fake-offended: “I can do a girl’s night. I can be one of the girls, I’ll blend right in. Besides, I was looking forward to spending time with you tonight, whatever form that takes.” 

You smile up at him as he takes one of your hands and raises it to his lips, placing multiple soft kisses to the top and fingertips, ultimately flattening it against the side of his cheek to cup his face. You sigh, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb as his eyes searched yours for an answer. Ugh, how could you say no?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

A few hours passed and you found yourself sitting on the floor of Penny’s living room with Rooster and Amelia, the three of you having demolished a giant pizza from her favorite restaurant. You admittedly didn’t get to spend as much time with your goddaughter as you would’ve liked, with you working and Amelia going to school–any chance you could get to spoil her, whether it be with her favorite pizza, riding bikes along the beach and getting ice cream, or just hanging out like you were—you were going to take it. She was like your little sister, and you were not only grateful that Penny had chosen you to be her godmother, but also that Rooster was so encouraging and enthusiastic about your role in her life. He had happily come to take on a cool uncle sort of role, offering as much time and support to you both as he could. You could not ask for a better partner, or a cooler goddaughter for that matter. 

You throw the last of your crust into the nearly empty pizza box, sighing contently as you lean against Rooster’s shoulder, the both of you resting against the front of the couch. You reentered the conversation in front of you, a dramatic retelling of an adorably adolescent outburst towards Amelia at school. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up,” Rooster exclaims, still chewing on the crust of his last slice, “she said what about your science fair project?”

“You heard me,” Amelia states, sassily. “The absolute nerve. I saw her trip when we were running the mile but did I say anything? No.”

“Kids these days,” he laughs as he looks over at you, “they’re a different breed.”

“Hey, as I recall via Maverick you have some pretty interesting stories as well. It sounds like you were quite the troublemak-”

“I was a saint, thank you very much,” Rooster laughs. “Don’t tarnish my reputation.”

You playfully swat at his chest, only for him to catch your wrist and place a quick kiss to your forearm. He holds it across his chest, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Eeeeughh, you guys are nauseating.” Amelia states, pretending to gag. Rooster lets out a wonderfully deep laugh as he finishes his last bite, dusting off crumbs from his fingers. He sits back groaning, putting one arm around you, the other on his belly.

“I’ve never been so full in my life,” he exhales, patting his stomach softly “I might go into a coma.”

You and Amelia both chuckle at this, until suddenly you get an idea. You look at Amelia and wink, facing her but glancing your eyes towards the man beside you. “So,” you begin,  “I was thinking we could do…makeovers or something like that, I’ve been meaning to try my hand at this cool eyeliner trick I saw online.” 

Amelia, picking up the hint, smiles at you mischievously, both of you now turning to look directly at Rooster. “I was thinking the exact. same. thing.”

He looks a bit confused for a second, eyes darting between you and Amelia, a nervously amused smile forming on his face. He llet his head drop down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I should’ve seen that coming.”

This was going to be a fun night. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Endless gossip, two buckets of popcorn,and  6 episodes of Gilmore Girls  later, Amelia fell peacefully asleep on her bed. You were now sitting on her bedroom floor in-between Rooster’s legs with your back against his chest, his back against the foot of the bed. He had one hand resting on your bent knee, the other laying somewhat limp in your hands as you directed your attention to painting the nails on his left hand. He watched you silently for a moment, smiling to himself at how cute you looked when you made your focus-face, your tongue sticking slightly out and eyebrows knitted together in concentration. 

“Hmmm…you’re so beautiful.” he hums against you, nuzzling his face against your back, occasionally giving you feather-light kisses through the fabric of your shirt. Feeling his hot breath on your back, you got the shivers down your spine and Rooster chuckles, pressing his chest against you further in an effort to aid your chills. He eventually sits up slightly to get a better look at the electric blue artistry you were now slathering on his nails. “...and I supposed you’re not half bad at this.”

You snort, awkwardly. “Thanks, love. I do my best.”

A silent moment goes by before you remember the events that transpired earlier in the evening. “Speaking of beautiful…,” you say as you turn around carefully in his lap. You bent your legs to place them on either side of his hips, almost sitting cross-legged and chest-to-chest against him. You took his face in your hands to turn it straight toward you, “..c’mere good lookin.”

You grabbed the micellar water and package of cotton rounds on the ground next to you that Amelia had used to take off her own makeup after Rooster did his best smokey eye on the poor girl. You had to admit it was sweet; he tried so hard and he even had a reference photo from Pinterest that he kept looking at, insistent on doing it right. The end result was similar to that of a sparkly raccoon, but you both reassured him that it wasn’t bad for someone who spent his days about as far away from all things cosmetic—literally, thousands of feet in the sky, away from the Earth and the nearest Ulta. Amelia returned the favor by donning him with Marilyn Monroe-esque eyeliner and a matching beauty mark, painting his lips bright red as best she could with his mustache. When he saw his reflection in Amelia’s handheld mirror, he folded over laughing. 

“Ya know,” he got out between laughs. “I’m more of an Audrey Hepburn man myself, but I think Marilyn suits me.”

“Oh, great. Next time we can put you in a tutu. Maybe a little black dress?” You laugh. 

You poured a little bit of the water onto a cotton round, and set the bottle aside. You begin to gently sweep the round across his eyes and lips, doing your best to get off what you could of the impressively stubborn eyeliner and lipstick. Itt was fun to see him with makeup on as it was never something he wore, and you had to admit you enjoyed this for more than one reason. Yes, it was fun to see him with it on, and to see him bond with Amelia, but this was good for you for an entirely different reason. Getting to sit so close to him, paying special attention to his devastatingly beautiful face–getting to admire his wonderfully long eyelashes, his cute nose, the semi-raised scars decorating his jaw and neck…there wasn’t a detail about this man that didn’t have you absolutely whipped.

After a while, you finally manage to get it all off, turning slightly to set down the supplies. When you turn back you find Rooster staring at you contently. There was no mischief, no cheekiness. He looked serious, blinking slowly–his gaze was intense, full of nothing but deep love and admiration. He softly smiles and reaches up to gently tuck a few loose hairs behind your ear with the very tips of his fingers. You once again get the chills, except this time it radiated through you like an electric shockwave. Lord have mercy.

“How’d I get so lucky…” he whispers, so quietly you almost don’t catch it. It was moments like these that made your heart ache in the best possible way…when it was just you and him, the quiet. Nothing to do but comfortably sit in each other’s presence, admiring. You would be lying if you denied that after all these years, this man didn’t give you butterflies. 

“No..” you quietly chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “I’m the one who’s lucky.”

Rooster smiles at this warmly, putting his arms around your waist and pulling you close into one of those irreplaceable, ultra-comfortable, soul-soothing hugs–his hand gently pushing on the back of your head to get you to rest on his shoulder. He began to rock just barely side-to-side…you’re not sure how long you had sat there, but you began to feel him lazily trace patterns all over your back and…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

You don’t ever remember falling asleep, but you are awoken by a soft murmuring somewhere behind you. When you finally open your eyes and turn your head, you see Penny sitting at the edge of Amelia’s bed, softly stroking her hair. You hear her whisper to Amelia but you can’t quite make out what she says. Hope she had a good time. 

You turn even further to see Rooster sleeping peacefully behind you, his arm draped lazily over your waist. You smile at his darling face, peaceful as he rests—surprisingly well—on the shag carpet of Amelia’s bedroom floor. You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to run your fingertips through his hair, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and eyelids. After a moment his eyelashes flutter slightly, and his eyes open–confused for a moment before finally focusing on your. He brings a hand up, groggily rubbing the sleep from his face the best he could. What a sight for sore eyes. He smiles at you and leans up, propping himself on one elbow, the other hand caressing the back of your head to pull you slightly forward. Usually a morning kiss would consist of something quick as you both are rushing to get to work,, but not this morning. He kisses you dizzingly slow and deeper than usual for his morning display of affection–had you been in the comfort of your own home, it would not be just a kiss but you store that in the mental bank for later. 

He barely pulls away, resting his forehead against yours “good morning gorgeous” he says with a smile. 

“Mornin, stud.” you quip back. He chuckles, letting out a throaty laugh before quickly kissing you on the forehead, his hand still caressing the back of your head. Suddenly, you’re interrupted by Penny.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Penny laughs quietly “thanks for hanging out with her, I know she had a lot of fun.”

“So did we,” you and Rooster say at the same time. 

“Let’s get up and I’ll buy us all breakfast, my treat.” Penny encourages. You both stand up wobbling, leaning on each other for as much support as you could give–the reality of sleeping on the floor now becoming painfully obvious. You hobble into the kitchen, gathering your things, and you notice Rooster is a little far behind you, visibly uncomfortable as he tried to stretch out his back to relieve some of the tension.

“I’m sorry if that was uncomfortable,” you said, running your hand down his back in an effort to soothe some of the pain. “We should’ve slept on the couch or something.”

”No apology needed,” he said insistently, looking at you like you had lost your mind. He kisses your cheek before continuing. “I said I wanted to spend time with you however I could, right? The sore back is totally worth it. Besides, there’s been plenty of times I’ve left you a bit sor-”

“Hey now,” you interrupt, putting your hand over his mouth “none of that til we’re out of Penny’s house.”

Penny looks at you guys, and shakes her head laughing. “You two crack me up.”

You both chuckle at her response, knowing damn well she’s aware of your activities as a couple. After all, she had quite literally asked you to babysit so she could have some alone time with a certain someone. Rooster returns his attention to you, grabbing your hand, a cheeky grin plastering his face. 

“Am I one of the girls now? Did I pass the test?”

“Mmm….,” you hum, looking up as you pretend to think about it. “you did alright. I’ll keep you around anyhow.”

“Perfect,” he laughs, resting his head on top of yours. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Yeah, me neither.

**************

[notroosterbradshaw]

M back and it's 7:39 a.m. and I'm currently questioning my life😂 it's like 20 degrees out and I have to go to class and I don't approve.

My thoughts for this morning - Rooster grumbling when you have to leave for school or work on his one day off. Just thinking about how sweet and clingy he would be. Grabby hands around your waist, sloppy kisses on your neck, and whispers of how you shouldn't leave him and just stay in bed.

Yeah it's gonna be a long day😭

And and I didn't get to eat my DINNER last night bc my night didn't end well so if I get a chance in between school work that'll be my reward for surviving the day❤️🥰

Ok. First things first: please give your body the divinity it deserves. School will be there waiting a few mins more.

But wholeheartedly agree. Rooster doesn’t at all love being left alone in bed. He has idle hands; gets bored easy when he has time alone. He will try anything to keep you with him. I love this. Send me moooore! xx

…but don’t skip your meals, daring heart x

[streetsweepershenanigans]

Maverick is 100% one of those people who memorized how to solve a rubix cube and can do it behind his back in like 5 seconds and refuses to tell Ice how he does it just to see his face. (He does teach Jake, though, and the cycle only continues.)