#rooster x gender neutral reader

[auroracalisto]

imagine: deciding to get married to each other.

tw: one singular cussword, gn!reader a/n: idk i have a few drafts i've been working on but nothing substantial so here's this

You wrapped your arms around his neck, a smile shining bright as your lips inched dangerously close.

"You know, Lieutenant," you said, quickly pecking his lips. "I think Y/n Bradshaw has a lovely ring to it."

He smirked softly, leaning forward. His nose gently pressed against yours, eyes fluttering shut as he breathed out.

"Let's do it, then," he said. "Just you, me, and the courthouse. How's that sound, baby?"

His hands rested on your hips as he pulled back, smiling all the while.

"That sounds like a plan," you grinned. "I don't have to wear anything fancy, do I?"

"Hell no," he chuckled softly, clearly just happy that you agreed.

He didn't need a fancy ceremony; he had no need for a big buffet or a glorified banquet. As long as he had you by his side, he needed nothing more than a ring and a piece of paper that signified your union. He loved you more than anything; planes had nothing on you, and he'd stand by that until the day he died.

[wittyminds]

Show Me the Way Home

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Anonymous:

Hey I’ve just seen you’re requests are open, could you write something angst and then fluff with Bradley, maybe they’ve both been snapping at each other and then they make up? Xx

CW: Angst, fluff, endangerment of life (idk)

A/N:

This is my first ever fic so please be nice :)

I've never written angst before so it was a gamble as to how this would go. So... enjoy?

*

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Of course, everyone knew accidents could happen in the air but they're never expected. Especially this one.

But being surrounded by a dozen of very experienced pilots it was hard to remember about the dangers of flying and how one small mistake could take someone away from you.

Rooster had been watching your progress through the course with unwavering attention, staring in awe as you shot through the entire thing flawlessly. You were the best pilot here by far but even the strongest have to fall every now and then.

Literally.

He knew that placing Hangman with you had been a mistake as the two of you had been at each other's throats for years. A "friendly competition" back in their first ever course had led to a not so friendly rivalry that everyone knew about. Which made the situation even worse. When two competitive pilots are in the air it's all bound for disaster.

Maverick had set them all the task of shooting down two target planes, each earning them 'kill' points. Hangman had been determined to beat you but you were confident that both those points were yours. It was meant to be a team building task but the two of you were against even wishing the other good luck.

There had been one target left, leaving the two of you whizzing around, determined to leave the other in the dirt. You had taken the other one down moments before Hangman would have, resulting in a rather amusing string of expletives from him.

You had been chasing the final target, Hangman gaining speed on you when it happened.

*

"Hangman, Wraith, this is a team task! I don't want to remind you again!" Marverick's voice rang through the intercom but you didn't listen. You were so close, your target slowly circling the aircraft in front of you.

Rooster realised he had been holding his breath as you strained to close in on your target. The table groaned as he clenched his fist round the feeble wood, the surrounding pilots exchanging knowing glances.

"Just a little further." Your voice muttered through the intercom.

Hangman, who had been quiet for too long, suddenly sprung up in front of you, sending your concentration haywire. Was it too much to ask for a clean shot?

"What the hell, Hangman?" You gritted your teeth in frustration, slowing down so you didn't collide with his rear, "I nearly had him!"

Hangman only smirked, you could feel it through the intercom.

"And let you get all the kill points? I don't think so."

The target plane swerved to try take you off its tail but you both followed it, only slightly unnerved by the sudden change of direction. You could hear Hangman muttering as he tried to get a clean shot which seemed impossible at the new angle.

"This is bullshit." He muttered, suddenly pulling up to get a different angle.

His sudden manoeuvre had left you to fly straight through his jet wash with no warning.

Your plane broke into an uncontrollable spin, everything around you blurry and dizzying. A series of panicked yells escaped you as you spun and Rooster shot out of his seat, ice cold dread drenching his entire body. The room stilled to a deafening silence as you tried to eject from the aircraft.

"Wraith! Can you hear me? Wraith!" Maverick yelled but you were too panicked to answer, still trying to locate the ejection handle.

Rooster couldn't watch, your plane getting closer and closer to the ground with no sign of slowing. The thought of what would happen if it hit the rocks below with you inside-

His feet carried himself out before he could register it, the door swinging shut behind him as he marched out the building and to the safety of his truck.

There, everything would be fine.

*

You and Rooster had been catching feelings over the past months, each glance lasting longer, each graze of the hand full of electricity. There were moments when you would both lean in instinctively after quiet moments together only to realise how close you were before pulling away.

So, it stung when you stepped out of the emergency aircraft, dizzy and half conscious, to not find Rooster waiting. Your heart had dropped at the sight and you stumbled through the doors into the building with only the dream of his arms there to hold you.

After numerous questions and glasses of water, you were given a lift home from Phoenix. She had become the equivalent of your sister but even she didn't want to prod the wound of Rooster's disappearance with questions. You stepped out of her car with a tired farewell, to be greeted by the comforting sight of your home.

Inside there was ice cream, chocolate and far too many rom-coms to keep you distracted.

After a warm shower that would definitely raise her bill a ridiculous amount, you climbed down the stairs in your favourite sweater, a pair of slippers keeping your feet warm from the sudden change in temperature.

The weather had gone from clear to sour in a matter of hours, much like your mood.

How could he leave in a moment like that? When you weren't even sure if you would make it out?

Your thoughts were broken by a frantic knock at the door, the sound clashing with the thundering rain outside. You paused the film, halting Julia Roberts moments away from kissing Richard Gere.

You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders, shuffling the short distance to the door to notice a large shadow huddled under the small overhang above your door. You didn't need to guess who it was for a second as you swung it open to reveal a dripping wet Rooster, holding his jacket over his head.

A thousand thoughts erupted in your head and your nostrils flared.

"Oh, so you do remember me?"

An expression of pain flashed over his face but it was gone in a blurry second.

"Can I please come in?" His voice was pleading and you opened the door wider so he could shelter from the furious pelts of water.

As you shut the door again, he lowered his jacket from above his head to fold in his arms. He ran a hand through his soaking hair, the movement sending a slight jolt through you.

"I just want to say, I feel so shitty for leaving, Y/n. I really do." As he rambled on, you got a proper look at him, not listening as he continued to speak.

His eyes were wide, giving the impression of a puppy being told off for the first time and as you studied him, you noticed his knuckles were stained a slight red.

"What happened to your hand?" You interrupted him quietly and he froze.

You crossed your arms and frowned at him, waiting for a response.

His eyes fell from yours and he rocked back on his heels nervously.

"I punched...." His voice trailed off into a mumble and you strained to hear him.

"I swear to God, Rooster, tell me." Your voice rose and he sighed loudly through his nose.

"I punched Hangman!"

The words rang through the air and your arms fell from their knot. Anger flared in your chest and he rose his head to meet your eyes once more.

"You... what?" You spoke slowly and carefully, taking a step toward him.

"I punched him, alright? He was careless and could have killed you!" Rooster's voice rose and all signs of being nervous disappeared.

"No, not alright! It's not your duty to stand up for me! You clearly didn't feel the need to be there when I got back!" Tears stung your eyes at what he had done but you blinked them back.

"I had to leave! I couldn't stay in that room!"

Anger clouded all your judgement, all you wanted was for him to explain why not punch the guy who had accidentally sent your aircraft spinning. Why did everything have to be so difficult for the two of you? Why couldn't you just settle the stupid argument and get back to Julia Roberts?

You scoffed at him, "Right, because watching the plane go down was so much worse than being inside. What was so awful about the accident that you had to leave? Why cant you just let it go?"

"Because that's exactly how my dad died!"

Every retort building up in her faded with his words. He had never openly spoken about how his dad died except that he had been in a flying accident.

How could he not have told you this in your many deep conversations? Surely it should have come up at 3am with a bottle of vodka clouding your judgements. Maybe it was just one of those things that was meant to be forgotten in the soft, tender moments.

"How was I supposed to know that?" You finally uttered, too shocked to consider how he felt.

"You didn't, I know. But it scared me that you were up there in exactly the same position he was in before it happened." You could see his eyes swimming with tears, only he didn't blink them away.

"Then I don't understand how you're mad at me! It wasn't my fault!" Your voice suddenly went higher than normal and you fought to keep your emotions under control.

"I'm not mad at you!" His hands flew up to his hair and his jacket landed on the floor with a dull thud, "I was just terrified because the person I love most in this god damn world could have died and there was nothing I could do about it!"

You waited for his words to sink in and finally let tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y-you love me?" You whispered, all memories of anger flitting from your mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. You waited for a reply but he only muttered a series of incoherent words before picking up his jacket and shuffling past you to open the door.

Thunder rumbled angrily as he stepped back into the rain, drowning out any words said. You were too shocked to move or go after him. His words kept playing over and over in your hand, a broken record of what you had been hoping for for weeks. But all he said as he slammed the door behind him was a simple, "I'm sorry."

And then once again, he was gone.

As the door slammed, you flinched at the noise and watched his figure storm back to his truck. Rain battered her windows and you ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

You don't know what came over you, probably the countless romance films and books you had indulged in, but you found yourself wrenching the door open and running into the freezing cold rain. Your sweater was drenched in seconds and you squinted through blinding droplets as you sprinted towards Rooster.

He had just about made it to his car but you could catch him. Thunder drowned out your footsteps and when you tried to call his name, the wind howled over you.

Finally, you reached him and breathed out one last call of his name.

He turned round to see you, eyes sad and shoulders heavy.

"Y/n, I'm so sorr-"

But when you reached him you didn't even think before pulling the front of his shirt to lower his lips to yours. In one smooth movement you kissed him breathlessly, his hands flying to support your waist and hip. He didn't kiss back but just as you pulled away, his grip on you tightened, keeping you in place. Your heels lifted from the grass as he moved into him, bringing him closer.

This is what it should have always been. The two of you. Safe in each other's arms.

Just like the movies.

One of his hands moved up to your hair, cupping your head gently as his lips moved in an easy rhythm against yours. Rain ran down your faces, thunder sounding as you blocked out the rest of the world.

All that mattered was the two of you in this moment.

You both pulled back for air, resting your foreheads against the other's as you panted. A relieved laugh escaped you and you pressed another quick kiss against his lips. Your arms had snaked round his neck and you stood staring at the man before you, still processing what you had done.

"Rooster?"

You were too breathless to speak properly and he hummed quietly, nudging your nose with his.

"Take me to bed now, or lose me forever."

Your smiled as he kissed you deeply again, suddenly lifting you up to wrap your legs round his waist. Another laugh escaped you at his goofy grin but he cut you off with a kiss.

"Show me the way home, Y/n."

[rainbow-universe]

Please Come Home for Christmas

for @notroosterbradshaw​’s #hello december playlist challenge !! go follow them bc they’re amazing and write fantastic fics!!

song: Please Come Home for Christmas by Eagles

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x GN!Reader

CW: established relationship, swearing, they celebrate Christmas, probably most likely definitely OOC!Bradley :)

a/n: so this totally got away from me as writing does and it might not be coherent lol (pls be kind it’s my first fic on this account skskdfdskjd) but the way this is so self-indulgent tho,,,, gift buying and giving gives me so much anxiety bc i never know what to get people :( but anyways i like what i wrote and maybe you will too!! happy holidays!!

summary: it would have been your first Christmas together, but Bradley got deployed and you’re still worrying about what to get him.

WC: around 2k

Bradley’s been deployed. Off flying, doing his job.

You’re at home. And life goes on.

🎄🎄🎄

You’re missing him like usual, especially because it’s nearing Christmas and, well, … it would have been your first Christmas together. But he was deployed, so, plans ruined. Oh well.

But … was there a secret part of you that was … a little relieved? The holidays meant a lot, and to spend them with a significant other? It felt like there was a lot of pressure.

And there was a small part of you that hated gift giving. Not that you hated giving gifts, in fact you loved giving little gifts and seeing the people smile and get excited over it. But … you were terrible at it. And it gave you so much anxiety.

You loved making things for the people you loved, but … well, even though you loved the saying “it’s the thought that counts”, because you put your heart and soul into everything you made, you’d once heard someone dispute that by scoffing “well, they’re just horrible at gift buying then.” And ever since then, you’d been extra self conscious of getting people gifts. You were always worrying that they’d hate it, or it’d be useless to them, and they’d never use it.

And for this year? To have a partner to have to get a gift for? It felt like there was more pressure on you. But then he got deployed and there was a possibility he wouldn’t be back for Christmas. Though you missed him so much, there was a small part of you that was scared you were relieved if he couldn’t make it back so you wouldn’t have to worry about gifts. But the thing was, you did want to show him how much he meant to you.

You’re scrolling through your phone one evening after work, curled up on your couch (that Bradley always complained was too small, much to your amusement), when it comes to you. An idea for his gift. It’s a great idea and even though it scares you half to death, all this vulnerability … well, to be honest, you love him in so many ways and for so many reasons and … you want him in your life for as long as you can have him. And fuck, he could be just so perfect sometimes. Soft and sweet and non-judgemental. Open, caring, cuddly. A fucking tease. Sarcastic, hard-working, determined. A fantastic partner and he deserved to know that. He deserved to be told, or shown, explicitly, over and over, just how amazing he is.

You got to work. Scrolling through your camera roll and searching through folders on your computer, even texting and calling your friends to ask them. You built it slowly, adding to it often, rearranging it again and again, having to pause every once in a while, because it reminded you just how much you missed him.

🎄🎄🎄

 His calls never came often enough, so you cherished them even more when they happened.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey,” you smiled and looked him over in the screen, he was still your handsome Rooster. It was so good to see him. “I’ve missed you,” you said honestly.

“I’ve missed you too, wish I was with you right now,” he said, eyes softening.

“Wish you were here too. It snowed again yesterday, I’m sure you would’ve loved it.”

“All cold and wet? Perfect weather for cuddling!” You snorted. “So, what have you been up to?” He asked.

You told him about meeting up with friends and your plans to meet up within the next couple of weeks, work, the shows you were watching. “Oh! And last week, I met up with Sacha, and you know how whenever we meet up, we just buy each other’s gifts together?”

“Yah…”

“And how we bought each other’s Christmas gift’s back in October?”

“And then you came home, and we baked cookies just so you could make a single Christmas cookie to wrap up and give them.”

You smiled at the memory. “Yes, that, and well, we’ve bought each other our birthday presents.”

Bradley laughed, “At least you don’t have to stress about that later.”

You chuckled awkwardly. If only you knew just how much stress I can feel, you thought to yourself.

“I’m sorry I’m not there.”

“Oh Bradley,” you said softly, “don’t apologize, there’s no reason to apologize, it’s ok, love. You’re doing your job, and I love that about you, ok?”

He nodded, knowing he was where he needed to be but still wanting to be with you instead. “I was really excited to spend Christmas with you,” he murmured.

“Love… it’ll be ok, we might just have to have Christmas in July,” you half-joked.

“We’d fit right in with those Hallmark movies,” Bradley chuckled.

“Exactly!”

 You talked a bit more, then Bradley had to go so you said your goodbyes and hung up. You sighed. You cherished all the times you could talk with Bradley even if it made you miss him more afterwards. You stood up and walked to your kitchen, you were feeling a surge of energy to bake cookies. You would ride this wave of motivation until you were done, you thought, and got to work.

Christmas music played in the background as you measured and mixed ingredients, rolled and cut the dough. When you tuned back in to the music-

“Choirs will be singing, silent night,

“Christmas carols, by candlelight,

“Please come for-“

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas,” interrupted Mariah Carey.

That song would make you cry if you had to listen to the whole thing. You missed Bradley, but you couldn’t do anything about it, so you continued baking cookies.

🎄🎄🎄

 You held off wrapping his gift until Christmas Eve. In part because you didn’t finish it until Christmas Eve Eve, but also because you knew he wouldn’t be there to open it until … whenever he came back.

You had been able to call with him again the week before for a few minutes, the whole time both of you wishing you could be together in person. To hold hands, cuddle on the couch, anything, while he told you that he wouldn’t be able to call for a while.

You put his wrapped gift under the tree along with the few for and from you friends and family.

🎄🎄🎄

 Christmas morning, you woke up wrapped in your warm and cozy blankets. All your favourite people had plans today, you’d made plans with them for other days but today would be a quiet, lonely day.

You slowly got out of bed and put on your slippers and cozy robe over your pyjamas.  You walked out to your living room where your small tree glowed with its coloured lights. After making yourself some hot chocolate and putting on some quiet Christmas music, you sat down in front of your Christmas tree. Today would be a good day, you decided. Even if you were alone, it was Christmas, you didn’t have work, there were the Christmas cookies you had baked earlier, and you had your meals for the day all planned out. Plus, you currently had a fantastic mug of hot chocolate in your hands, you were in cozy clothes in your place. It was a good day already.

You unwrapped the few presents you had and smiled at every one, sending happy holidays and thank you texts to your friends and family.

🎄🎄🎄

 As you were karaoke-ing to your Christmas after you ate lunch, your doorbell rang. You frowned and went to go see who was there. When you opened the door, you froze in shock.

“Hey sweetheart,” Bradley said.

“Wha- Bradley?!”

He laughed at your confusion, god, you had missed the sound of his laugh. “Merry Christmas?”

“You’re here. You’re really here,” you said.

“Yah, sweetheart, I’m here.” You flung yourself into his arms and gripped him tightly.

He loosened his grip, and you stepped back, keeping your hands on his arms. “So do I get to come in or …?” he teased.

Your eyes widened. “Yes, yes, come in, come in, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Bradley closed the door behind him. “Finished earlier than expected and I caught the fastest flights here. I was hoping I wouldn’t be too late.”

“Bradley Bradshaw, I don’t think you could be late. I swear to god you’re like a wizard, arriving precisely when you mean to,” you teased. “You’re here though, and you just so happen to be the best Christmas present I could ever get.”

“Kisses?”

“Yes.”

Bradley was immediately peppering your face in small kisses that made you giggle. “I missed you so *kiss* so *kiss* so *kiss* so *kiss* much!” He pulled away to look you in the eye. “I love you.”

You smile at him. “And I love you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Do you need anything?” you asked when he pulled away.

“You.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, certain there were hearts in them. “Food, water, sleep, something?”

“Just you,” he repeated.

You smiled at him and pulled him over to your couch. “Sit.” You grabbed the plate of cookies and offered it to him.

“Ok, well maybe I need you and cookies.”

You snorted as you snuggled into his side and sat together, enjoying each others company.

“Cute tree,” Bradley said.

“Small but cute.”

“Small and cute,” he corrected.

“Oh!” You got up and shuffled around Bradley’s long legs to grab his present. “For you,” you said awkwardly, handing him the wrapped gift. “Merry Christmas,” you mumbled.

Bradley looked up at you. “For me?” he asked taking it from you.

You nodded and sat back down beside him, trying to calm your anxiety.

“Can I open it?”

That made you smile, “yes, of course. I will warn you though, it’s probably really, ok no, it definitely is very cheesy.” You covered your face in embarrassment.

Bradley laughed. “I’ll love it.” You could here the certainty in his voice at he unwrapped the gift. “A scrapbook?” His voice was soft and excited.

You let out a breath and peeked between your fingers. “Yah.”

He flipped it open slowly and a smile broke out on his face.  

There were selfies the two of you had taken together, pictures you’d taken of each other, and pictures your friends had taken, some of the two of you, some of just Bradley or some of Bradley and members of the Dagger squad. There were also mementos from moments in your shared life: receipts, stickie notes, all different things from different places and times. You written little notes to accompany everything, detailing when it was from.

You watched his face as he flipped through, seeing his smile grow, hearing him laugh. He paused every once in a while to turn to you and say how fantastic it was or how much he loved you or how did you get some of these pictures?

“I asked around. My friends, your friends, both had pictures they were willing to share.”

“Thank you,” Bradley said, looking at you.

You covered you face again. “You’re welcome, now continue, there’s still more.”

Bradley grabbed one of you hands and held it as he continued reading and flipping through, until he paused on the last page, and read your note again. He whipped his head to face you. “I love you. I love being in your life, I love having you in my life, too.”

Your eyes crinkled at the emotions bubbling up in you from his words. “You’re important to me, I appreciate you and I love you, like I said, well, wrote,” you said softly.

Bradley took the key taped in the book and held it up. “For-“

“You. For my place. So, well, you don’t have to knock anymore.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yah,” you whispered, already leaning in to kiss him.

“Merry Christmas,” Bradley whispered in between kisses.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back.

🎄🎄🎄

happy holidays!! please consider reblogging if you liked it!

[megzscribbleznwordz]

i saw that you do 12 oz mouse x reader (you did mouse for the request) and um. can. can you do roostre for my request please. please and thank you okay bye

I'm so happy there's someone else out there who wants X Readers for the 12 Oz Mouse show. It's one of the ones I saw for the first time most recently, and I'm very excited that other people likeys it too :3

Roostre

Roostre is a big sweetie pie with his lover. Like he’s so down bad for you it’s actually adorable

He loves it when you help him out on the corndog farm, accepting any help graciously and with strong appreciation. That’s probably how your relationship starts, helping out on the farm and having him invite you out on a date with him. 

Roostre introduces you to the others fairly early on, excited to see you find a place in the friend group if you’re interested in doing so. He’s very casual with affection too, having no reservations about peppering you in kisses and calling you all sorts of sweet things while you’re with the others

He’s very skilled in the acoustic guitar, and loves to strum out tunes for you. Nothing Is nicer than just relaxing, the two of you, while he practices his craft and plucks out some notes for you. Definitely serenades you quite frequently

Roostre makes every date about reminding you what it is about him you love, showering you in compliments and sweetness, making delightful conversation, letting you know how much he loves you 

Pet names include: Sweetheart, Sweet Corn, lovey, lover

Roostre is a very good listener! I feel like he isn’t the most chatty at social occasions, but he very much takes in and understands what everyone says. Especially you, he’s one of the best to come to with your problems. Roostre is the best at helping you out, or even just listening if that’s what you need.

[rainbow-universe]

Cute!! 💕💕

little wallflower | bradley bradshaw x hearing impaired!reader

disclaimer: hello all. i wrote this for all of my lovelies who have loss of hearing, or have any type of hearing impairment, or am hearing and want to read a cute little fic. i myself am hearing, and i took a bit of inspiration from me being bradley, seeing as i work with a wonderful person who's deaf, and they are SO helpful and encouraging in my journey to get better at signing. if there are any inaccuracies, i apologise profusely - i tried my best to research what i could. seeing as i'm not american, i am learning ssl, and hope that I got the american signs right. please tell me what you think?<3

warnings: ignorance about hearing disabilities (nothing malicious at all, just good ol' norm thinking), bob being the mvp and a sweetheart, cursing. no use of y/n.

word count: 2.5K.

description: Bradley had seen you sitting on your own many times, and was bewildered as to why no one was talking to you.

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

Bradley had noticed you a few times, often sitting by yourself nursing a beverage. Sometimes you were looking at your phone, and other times you were just observing the surroundings, smiling softly at the people who milled around. Bradley had never really seen you interact with anyone at all, except for ordering beverages from Penny, and then you always showed her your phone - something that puzzled Rooster a little. Perhaps you wanted to see if she had a particular drink that wasn’t too easy to get ahold of? Either way, he was enthralled by you. The way your soft smile lit up your face, and the way you seemed to be a little bit of a wallflower intrigued him. He also found himself wondering why you were always sitting alone. He’d only seen you once with another person, a friend who was gesticulating as you laughed - it was a very pretty sound, he decided, before he was ripped away by Payback to play pool.

Bradley always walked into the Hard Deck thinking that this would be the night he’d go over and talk to you - ask what you were drinking, where you were from, if you’d like to go out with him… but every time he chickened out, afraid that such a pretty person wouldn’t want a ruddy naval aviator who smelled of jet fuel and couldn’t stay in one place for too long. He kept his distance for a few weeks, stealing longing glances whenever he could.

One day, as he was sipping his beer slowly, Phoenix approached him with a roll of her eyes “When are you gonna make a move, Rooster? You’ve been staring for weeks,” she inquired, raising a brow at her friend.

“Make a move? Rooster?” Hangman smirked, letting his sentence hang in the air to rattle Rooster a little “who are we talking about?” Jake continued, his eyes scanning the filled bar. Natasha nodded her head towards you, and Hangman followed her gaze.

“Oh them? Don’t bother Rooster, they completely ignored me the other day. Wouldn’t even respond to my question,” this had Bob scoffing out an uncharacteristic laugh, that sounded somewhat like he was telling Jake that he was being an idiot. Hangman furrowed his brows, looking at Bobs’ smiling face “what’s with him?” He muttered as the WSO went up to get another bottle of water.

Rooster simply shrugged, watching you make your way over to the bar, near where Bob was stood.

“C’mon Roos, go talk to them!” Phoenix gave him a gentle push in your direction, and Bradley could feel butterflies thrash around his midsection as he cleared his throat before approaching you. You seemed to be deep in thought, waiting for Penny to help Bob with his order.

Standing next to you, Rooster looked down and smiled at you, before saying hi. You didn’t seem to notice at all, and Bradley suddenly wondered if perhaps Jake was right - you completely ignored him. Now, Rooster thought of himself as well raised - he didn’t want to touch you without your consent, but he also didn’t want to give up, even though being ignored was a pretty big sign you weren’t exactly interested.

He had to, though - he had to hear you say you weren’t interested before he gave up. So he reached out gingerly, only hesitating for a second before softly tapping your shoulder. You jumped as if you hadn’t noticed him standing there at all, and as you turned to look at him, your eyes had turned wide with surprise.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m Rooster— I mean, my name’s Bradley, but uh I’m called Rooster by— uh… I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink?” He was rambling. Since when didn’t he know how to speak to a beautiful person? He could hear Bob barely containing his laughter behind him, and he had to fight the sudden urge to throw an elbow back to shut him up. You blinked, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times, with a pained expression. Damn. He’d blown it. He sighed and nodded slowly “I get it, sorry to have bothered you,” he felt dejected as he turned to leave, but stopped as he felt your hand on his wrist, and heard a sound that resembled “No”. It was soft, and little too quiet to actually make it audible in the loud, boisterous environment you were in.

He turned back, looking at you quizzically as you lifted a finger into the air - signalling him to wait as you tapped away on your phone. A frustrated noise left your throat as you scrambled to find the notes app you’d installed on your phone.

“They can’t hear you,” Bob spoke up from behind Rooster, coming to stand beside his pilot friend. Bradley looked at him, bewildered - what did that mean? Bob quickly waved a hand in front of your face, and Rooster slapped his arm - what the fuck was he doing? That was rude as hell. Bob only shook his head and laughed at Bradley’s exasperated look.

As you looked up, Bob smiled at you before signing with his hands swiftly. Rooster took in how your facial expression went from relieved to elated, smiling as you replied with your hands.

“Do you want me to translate what my idiot friend said?” Bob spoke softly as he signed, making that beautiful laugh fall from your lips again. Oh my god, Rooster thought, both he and Hangman were fucking idiots. You couldn’t hear them. He almost groaned at his ignorance.

He thought of himself as a man that was very ‘with it’. He considered himself a feminist, he thought everyone should be treated the same and that no person held any particular advantage over any other - he felt that people could believe in what they wanted and say what they wished as long as it didn’t hurt or put others at risk. But he had actually never really ransacked himself about his knowledge about hearing disabilities, which he felt slightly ashamed over now.

He watched you nod with a big grin, and he had to trust that Bob translated what he said (favourably, he hoped, perhaps Bob would take pity on him and wouldn’t translate into ASL how he’d fumbled it all). He watched you furrow your brow as Bob signed something that Bradley could only guess was “Rooster”, tapping his forehead twice with his thumb, his middle finger and pointer finger forming a V. He couldn’t be sure, but it made sense in his mind.

You locked eyes with him and his heart stuttered a bit as you smiled, repeated the sign Bob had made to his forehead and softly spoke “Rooster?” And then pointed right at him.

“They’re asking if you’re called Rooster” Bob smiled, he didn’t doubt that Bradley had surely understood, but Bob could tell that Rooster felt a little frozen under your gaze - and he figured he’d help kickstart this conversation by breaking Bradley’s little trance.

“Oh, yeah! I’m Rooster. Or Bradley.” He looked at you and then Bob before hesitantly trying to copy the sign they had made. You laughed and moved closer, adjusting his hand so it was at the correct angle before nodding at him with a big smile. Oh god, those butterflies came back with a vengeance having you standing so close to him.

“How do you sign ‘thanks’?” Rooster almost panicked, looking at Bob - was he being rude by asking Bob instead of you? Bob just smiled and put his fingertips, his palm open but not spread, to his chin before sliding it outwards ‘thank you’ he said softly. Rooster repeated the sign to your smiling face, and he felt as if he could stare at the way your eyes twinkled happily forever. It made his heart clench.

“I’m sorry that I assumed you could hear me,” Bradley said and watched as Bob made a fist, circling it in the middle of his chest before signing something else that was too fast for Bradley to differentiate. You just smiled at him and shook your head, Bradley took that to mean “don’t worry about it”, your facial expressions were so vivid and beautiful to him.

You signed rapidly to Bob for a few moments, holding your phone out briefly before you stopped. Bob smiled and turned to Rooster “They say they’re pretty good at reading lips, and that you two can use the notes app or texts if they can’t understand. You’re on your own now, pal” Bob smiled, patting Bradley’s shoulder.

“Bob, thank you so much. I had no idea you knew how to sign!” Bradley sighed, really feeling surges of gratitude to the WSO. Bob smiled before replying that his parents couldn’t hear, and he learned to sign and talk at the same time.

“That’s fascinating,” Rooster replied with a smile as you signed something to Bob that made him laugh. “What did they say?” Bradley asked eagerly, and Bob shook his head. “They said they appreciated me translating, but that they had a hard time with my accent” Bob smiled at Roosters bewildered face.

“I’ll educate you later. Have fun, man!” He simply said before retreating to the pool table. You took a hold of his hand gingerly, and Bradley felt his heartbeat pick up slightly at the feeling of your warm skin against his.

Making your way to the table you’d occupied earlier, he sat down opposite you. He felt a little out of his depth at first, talking whilst your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes - but as he got more used to you taking a moment to write down a reply, or speaking shorter sentences in response, he felt as he would with any other person. He just wished he could sign as efficiently as Bob did, it would make everything so much easier for you. He wanted to learn how to sign so you wouldn’t have to concentrate so much on reading his lips. Why hadn’t he learned from the jump? It seemed silly now that not everyone was taught sign language in school.

You spent the night in that booth, laughing and getting to know each other, finding that you had quite a lot in common. Bradley thought you were just the sweetest, and he tried his best to not offend you or ask stupid questions - though sometimes they slipped out anyways. Like when he asked what type of music you listened to. He could kick himself. He actually apologized profusely before he saw you shake your head before typing on your phone.

“I hear a little bit. They call my impairment ‘severe’, but I can still hear some loud noises, and I love music that has a lot of bass in it - I love the thrum of the melody it gives” you smiled kindly at him, and he smiled back, grateful that you didn’t seem to mind explaining the most obvious things to him.

“It’s okay to ask about, you know? I don’t mind if there’s anything else you’re curious about,” you’d typed in after a beat, showing him the screen. He read the words quickly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, speaking slowly he asked how it was that you spoke - could you hear yourself? He felt stupid asking, but your voice was so sweet and soft, he was puzzled as to how one could form words without hearing them.

You smiled, typing away on your phone. You’d apparently lost your hearing after having learnt to talk, which made it easier to maintain the feeling of speaking certain sentences and words. You explained you preferred sign language, just because you couldn’t tell if your volume was too loud or too quiet, which explained why you’d spoken so softly, not wanting to seem like you were shouting.

Bradley smiled, mesmerized about your abilities, and he told you so as well. He could tell you were blushing at his compliment and that made him smile all the wider. Suddenly you took hold of his hand and held it to your throat before typing a quick “I can tell somewhat from how the vibrations feel in my throat when I speak - but it’s hard to tell what volume it’s at” and then you said “Rooster” out loud with that sweet voice Bradley had already come to love, even if it didn’t sound like everyone else. Perhaps that’s why he liked it so much. He could feel the vibrations that thrummed in your vocal chords, and he smiled. He’d never thought about any of these things.

You lifted your hand, raising a brow as if to ask a question, and he nodded - you placed your hand on his Adam’s apple. He laughed before saying that he thought you were beautiful. You smiled, looked down and blushed again before clearing your throat and slowly saying “You have a nice voice,”

Bradley beamed at the compliment “Yeah?” You nodded before typing “I can tell” with a little wink. God, he was a goner.

All too soon, Penny announced last round - and he made sure to swap numbers with you. You emptied your drink and typed out “I had a great time tonight. I’ll text you?” You smiled uncertainly, and he typed back “So did I. Please do text me so I know you’ve gotten home safe?” You grinned and nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck in a parting hug, waving goodbye sweetly before making your way out of the Hard Deck.

“Wow,” Rooster let out a breath as he made his way back to his friends who were slow to make it to the front door. Making eye contact with Hangman, Bradley groaned and said “Hangman, we’re fucking idiots,”

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Hangman replied with a similar type of “fuck I’m dumb” groan. Bob was silently laughing behind them “That was absolutely golden,” he sniggered, throwing his arms around their shoulders and shaking them “Just two dumb pilots, huh?” He and Phoenix laughed.

“Jesus,” Rooster shook his head. “Bob. This was 'Rooster', right?” He signed and Bob nodded, laughing again “and 'thank you'” he repeated what Bob had showed him earlier. The WSO smiled and nodded at his friends eagerness.

“Can you help teach me sign language, Bob? I’d love to be able to talk to them better” Bradley sighed, wishing he could learn it all right this second. Bob smiled, he could tell this meant a lot to his friend, so therefore he said

“Of course, Brad. We’ll start with the alphabet tomorrow"

[starboundpix]

ii. (love is) a greeting

it turns out the shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is not a scarecrow and is most definitely offended. he's here to stay, though, so there's plenty of time to make up for that first impression.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.8k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, reader has a pet dog, hints of dca not being treated well in the past

note: a sun-centric part that has somehow grown into nearly 2k words >u< I promise moon will get his time to shine! (heh)

The crowing of your rooster wakes you up, blinking blearily and squinting at the rays of sunlight streaming through your curtains. You slowly sit up, shoulders and arms aching terribly, but you must get going with your day. There are always things to do on a farm.

After changing out of your pajamas, you exit your bedroom, only to nearly trip over Pluto. “Hey!” He whines and whimpers, circling frantically around your legs, barely giving you any room to move. Your eyebrows furrow and you kneel down, letting him put his paws on your legs as you gently grab his head, looking into his mismatched eyes of hazel and blue. 

“What’s wrong, buddy?” His ears are soft as you stroke his head. Pluto slightly relaxes under your touch, but the little noises he makes do not subside. 

Suddenly, he pulls his head back and takes little shuffling steps toward the stairs, eyes watching you all the while. You have owned your dog for many years now and know that Pluto will not act this way without good reason. Something uncomfortable stirs in your gut, but you follow your dog as he leads the way down the stairs to the back door of your house. Pluto’s whines increase in volume as you wrap your hand around the handle so you pause to stroke his head.

Whatever is out there—whatever is making Pluto so worried—better watch out. You know your dog will protect you with all of his might and you will fight tooth and nail to make sure he is safe.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door–

–and are greeted with brilliant blue eyes and a giant smiling face of gold and yellow.

“New friend! I am pleased to-”

“Oh what the hell?” The words fly out of your mouth in a shriek and you whirl back inside toward the safety of your home, pulling the door shut behind you. 

Over the blood rushing through your ears as your heart pumps furiously in your chest, you hear muttering through the door. “That was quite rude! I don’t think my greeting warrants a response like that.” A pause. Then, “Perhaps that’s not unexpected for people who live in the middle of nowhere.”

Your mouth falls open in outrage. With this cocktail of shock and anger rushing through your veins, you push open the door again, this time stepping completely through to shut it behind you. “I was startled, thank you very much,” you spit out. 

A warm presence presses into your thigh. The reminder of Pluto being by your side is enough to calm your nerves a bit, enough to make you realize that this- this being—a… scarecrow? Your scarecrow!—does have a point. Just the tiniest bit. Taking a deep breath, you shut your eyes and reopen them to look what you once thought was your scarecrow in the eyes.

“Sorry,” you say. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be at my door, least of all the scarecrow I set up in my garden yesterday.”

The not-a-scarecrow raises his hand to his mouth, which turns round in outrage. “A scarecrow? Scarecrow? I will have you know that we- I am a top of the line farm helper animatronic!”

You blink up at him. “So, um.” You were not prepared for anything like this at all. “So you’re a, uh, robot?”

“A robot?” he screeches, making you wince. The rays around his head shift in agitation. “I am an animatronic. A farm helper animatronic, unit ID 1987!” His teeth show in a smile, though you feel that he is anything but happy.

Hearing those words, you think of the booklet that arrived with his crate. Your aunt must have chosen the sun themed animatronic for you, and he certainly is no mere scarecrow. He’s sentient. He has a personality. A very unique one, at that. He seems a little prickly, although to be fair, you did sort of insult him multiple times in the span of five minutes. Not your best first impression. 

The thought of this animatronic being a new companion around the farm makes you a little excited. It has been a while since someone who could actually communicate with words—not with barks or clucks or bleats—has been on your farm for more than a few hours. Not to mention, this is the first time you’ve encountered such an advanced animatronic.

Slowly, your lips curl up in a smile, a warmth rising to your face the first time since you’ve exited your home. “Got it! Hey, I’m truly sorry about my initial reaction. I mentioned to my aunt in passing that I really needed a scarecrow for my garden, so when I got a package from her, that’s what I thought you were.” Wringing your hands together, your expression turns sheepish. “I probably should’ve read the manual from front to back. I definitely wasn’t expecting someone uh, y’know, alive and at my door today. Your presence was a surprise, but it’ll be nice to have some help around the farm. So anyway,” You share your name, holding your hand out for him to shake. “I’m the owner here. Welcome to Monarch Skies Farm.”

The animatronic’s sky blue eyes break contact with yours and he looks down at your outstretched hand. There was a stiff smile plastered on his face the entire time you were talking, but now his faceplates shift so minutely that you barely catch the slight widening of his eyes. After a long pause, he stretches out a yellow and vine-etched arm, long fingers sliding against your palm. You don’t expect them to be this warm. It takes another moment before those fingers tighten around yours, and suddenly your arm is being pumped up and down with enough force to shake your entire body. Pluto starts barking in protest.

“Lovely to meet you, it’s great to meet you! I’ve never met someone quite like you before. Monarch Skies Farm is a beautiful name and there must be lots to do, oh yes. What should be done first today?” He finally lets go of your hand and pulls back a bit, much to your relief; although his hand was warm and comfortable, he’s still pretty much a stranger to you, and all that metal leaning into your personal space is not the best feeling. It feels like he isn't as peeved as he was before, but the hint of snark in his comments shows that he hasn't forgotten your reaction to him. Holding his hands behind his back, he rocks from heel to toe as he awaits your answer, head tilted to the right.

You settle your hand on Pluto’s head to calm him down. “There’s a lot to do today. But first, do you- uh, do you want me to call you by your ID? It was 1987, right? Or is there another name you go by?”

The animatronic stops moving completely. You blink up at him, watching as he seems to stare beyond you while he thinks, motionless. A long moment later, his faceplate rotates upright so he’s looking directly at you. “Oh, no, not the dreadful ID. It lacks a bit of everything, don’t you think? The little ones called me Sun, and that’s a much brighter name!” He winks at you, one bright blue eye vanishing under a golden eyelid.

Your eyes widen. “You really go by Sun? That’s what I named you when I- well, when I thought you were a scarecrow. All the bright gold and yellow and the rays around your face,”—you gesture at him—“made me think of the sun.” Curious, and also a little desperate to move on to avoid his piercing and unreadable gaze, you ask, “Were the children who called you that from your previous farm? What was the farm like?”

Sun takes a moment to respond. There is a strange tone to his voice when he says, “Yes, the little ones from my previous farm gave me this name. They are such wonderful children!”

“O-okay.” He obviously avoids answering your question about his old farm, but you don’t want to press too hard, especially when you’re just getting to know him. Clapping your hands together, you move on. “I’m not sure how the previous farms you were at did things, but I think I should first show you your room. After that, I can give you a tour of the farm. How does that sound?”

You can’t quite determine what he is thinking from the expression on his face, but Sun gives you a shallow nod so you open the door to your home. “Come on in!” Turning away from him, you enter your home with Pluto walking beside you.

You miss the sight of Sun’s fingers twitching, a stiff smile on his face with blue unblinking eyes, his faceplate rotating a few degrees. He hesitates before finally following your retreating figure into your house.

Sun runs a finger along the top of the dresser in the guest bedroom, revealing a streak of dark brown wood under the layer of dust that had gathered on the surface over time. You were telling the truth; this guest bedroom really has not been used in a while. 

Now this bedroom is his. His!

“This place could use a good cleaning,” he says to himself, rubbing his fingers together so the dust they had picked up floats back onto the dresser. His hands rest on his hips as he turns in a slow circle, taking in the room.

It’s a decent size for a regular human, he thinks. Cozy, with warm earthy colors and extra cushions on the armchair and bed. Small trinkets decorate the dresser and bedside desk in a way that personalizes the space yet is not too cluttered.

Useless. Moon pushes the thought to Sun.

 “W-well,” Sun says, “we may not sleep like a regular human but it can be nice to lay down while charging! At any rate, this is much better than the horse stall.”

Still dirty.

Sun can’t really dispute Moon on that. The urge to find some cleaning supplies and wipe down every surface in this- their room is strong, but Sun remembers that you are waiting to show him around the farm and get started with your tasks for the day. Perhaps he’ll ask you after finishing the tasks, if it isn’t too much of a bother. You’ve proven yourself to be rather nice despite your initial reaction to him at your back door this morning. But-

Be careful.

“Yes, yes, I know. Can’t trust adult humans too easily; they’re not like the children!” Despite saying this, a small spark of hope travels through Sun’s wires against the disapproval he can feel from Moon. He exits his bedroom with a bounce returning to his step, heading to where you wait for him by the front door. 

Perhaps, as Sun sees more of the farm and gets to know you, he and Moon will grow to like Monarch Skies Farm. He tries to squash the doubt that Moon sends his way.

note: and there we go! we've discovered that sun will now be a resident of the farm! as for moon? he remains to be seen. literally. >.< thank you so so much for reading! i'd love to hear your thoughts c:

series masterlist ✧ part one ✧ part three

[staplegrapes]

Bust a Move (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader)

Description: Omaha convinces the squad to go line dancing. For as much as you enjoy dancing by yourself, you can't seem to peel yourself off the wall. You hope to be am invisible bystander, but that doesn't fly with Bradley Bradshaw.

Word Count: 2.6K

TW: None

A/N: It is implied the reader is either a pilot or WSO but it does not go into detail. No use of Y/N.

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

When Omaha suggested line dancing after training today, you were fully convinced the pilot was joking. Never, once in your months of working with him, had he mentioned it before. Sure, he was from the Midwest, it made sense, but still. You would never have guessed that 5 hours later you would be watching Omaha absolute kill it on the dance floor.

You had heard of Dixon's Country Bar in passing. Even having never been through these doors before, the wooden floor, cowboy memorabilia on the walls and the dim lights didn't surprise you one bit. What surprised everyone is that it appeared Omaha was a regular here given the remarks thrown his way the moment your crew walked through the door.

"Neil! Good to see you bud!"

"Hey! Save some chicks for the rest of us!"

"These your pilot friends?"

When did this man have time? You wouldn't claim to know everything about him, but it feels like you should have known this. Makes you wonder what you don't know about the rest of the squad. But at least now you knew how well they danced.

Rooster, Payback and Fritz picked it up without any issues. You knew Rooster and Payback could dance, but there's a difference between just dancing and picking up choreography as fast as they currently are with no practice. Or maybe they did have practice? Were you the only one who didn't line dance on the weekends? Well, obviously not.

Harvard, Yale and Fanboy were doing their best to keep up with the other three. A little stumble here and there was pretty normal, but they were doing well enough you were slightly impressed. But if a dance had too many spins or was too fast, the three of them often excused themselves off the floor to grab another drink.

And then there was Bob.

Oh, Bob.

You could have predicted this, but Bob was... struggling. Despite both Phoenix and Halo attempting to help him out, it was a battle. He seemed to always get the hang of it by the end of the song, which seemed frustrating. You couldn't tell by his face though. He was having a blast and that is all that mattered.

Coyote was quite good at this as well. Early in the night his smooth moves were catching plenty of looks. Yet, you didn't see much of those moves later on. He was now on the sidelines cashing in on some of those looks, trying to "pick up some digits" as he would say. Same with Hangman, except he barely tried to dance, just flirt, as usual. You barely saw the man step foot on the dance floor unless it was to follow some girl.

Not that you could judge honestly. Your crew had already been here an hour and you had yet to even inch near the dance floor. And it seemed odd, since you've always liked dancing alone in your kitchen. The unfamiliar environment and your lack of knowledge of these dances created some sort of invisible glue between your shoulder blades and the wooden wall. You should have realized you were gonna be the stick in the mud tonight. You should have stayed home. But no one seemed to notice too much. They were all having a great time, so you continued to sip your drink and enjoy the show. So there you stand, homing all the drinks, past and present. That was to be your excuse if anyone were to ask.

Harvard downed his third beer as he headed back for the dance floor. You looked back down to your drink. It was slightly cooler than room temperature now. You weren't the designated driver, but you also just didn't feel like drinking here. If you were gonna dance, which you kept saying you were gonna do you weren't gonna be able to do it well, inebriated.

You weren’t having a bad time. Watching your colleagues drunkly dancing was quite amusing. Watching Bob have the time of his life was nothing short of joyful. Still, something was uneasy in your chest. You felt like a burden for not being able to leave the wall. Either way, you stayed and watched, breathing through the slight anxious feeling in your chest.

It was well into the night, despite this, Rooster was still wearing his sunglasses. He felt they added to his ensemble. It also made it easy to keep stealing glances of you from the side. Something about the way you were standing there was setting off alarms in his head. He could tell something was off. Not that you were one to cut loose often and be the center of attention, but you didn’t seem genuinely content in your spot. Maybe you weren't feeling well? Maybe something or someone made you uncomfortable? Maybe you were tired? Was training rough on you today? Whatever it was, he saw through the facade.

Between songs he decided to go check on you. Slapping Payback and Omaha on the shoulder as he passed by, he slips off the crowded floor. As the lights changed between songs, growing brighter, even with his aviators he was struggling to see you as he got closer.

You saw him making his way over. Oh boy, you knew he was gonna tease you about this. You just didn't have the same ability to let go and relax like he did. That's what you liked about him. You always worried your inability to do just that was what he didn't like about you. As he gets closer and out of the lights, he pulls his aviators off and hooks them onto the collar of his tank top.

"That wall heavy?" He asks in a raised voice as the next song begins to blare over the sound system.

"Huh?" You're not sure if you heard him right. He walks up next to you, not quite so close to the wall, but close enough to hear you over the crowded room.

"I mean, you're holding that wall up. It's a pretty big wall, with all that wood paneling..." He nods towards the wall.

"Oh shut up." you chuckle.

He smirks as he takes another sip of his drink that's been keeping you company at the table. Looking back to the dance floor as the song hits it first repeat, he turns back to you.

"So, what's the song?" He questions, looking down to you without dropping his head. His expression is one of pure intrigue. As if whatever the answer is, is something that he's been dying to ask you. Yet, you don't even know what he means.

"What song?"

"What song is gonna get you out there?" nodding towards the floor.

You shrug. "I dunno. I don't really know any of these, let alone the dances."

"You wanna hear a secret?" He whisper-yells (the softest he could possibly speak and you'd still hear him), leaning down to you. You tilt your head in his direction.

"Me neither." He smiles.

"Yet, somehow you're nailing all these dances?" You retort unconvinced giving him a playful smack on the side of his face which he attempts to block with a grin. He nods his head laughing.

"I wouldn't say I'm 'nailing' them all. Did you see me during that Watermelon one? I had no clue what was happening."

"You're telling me you've never done this before?" you press further.

"Well," he leans back against the wall, "not never, but it's been awhile." his silence is not enough for you and he catches your expectant look before shrugging and continuing. "I had a few friends college who'd go out line dancing once or twice a month. I tagged along occasionally. The songs are different now."

You hummed as your eyes wandered back towards the dancing. A few minutes of silence holds over the two of you.

"So what is it then? You're shy?" He looks down into his drink. You shrug, not knowing if he sees it or not, but silence would answer his question, so it is just as well.

"I dunno, Rooster. I just can't seem to peel myself off this wall."

"Well, is there room for two?" He leans closer to you in an endearing manner.

"No, Roos, go back, you don't have to stay up here with me."

"I've been dancing for an hour. I want a break."

"Suit yourself" you mumble into your drink.

"You want me to keep dancing when I claim to be exhausted? What if I pass out?"

"I'm sure someone will give you mouth to mouth." you smirk. He smiles turning back to face the crowds.

"I'm sure you would."

You blush. How was he so casual about throwing comments around like that? Your comment implied he was getting attention, nothing more you made sure of it. Did it not phase him that he just implied the two of you... Bradley Bradshaw. "You’ve been hanging with Hangman too long." you say, diverting your face away from his gaze as casually as possible.

He laughs. A full laugh. He has such a good laugh. It puts you at ease. For a moment, you're able to forget you're blushing at his comment and this feeling of overwhelming anxiety from this whole night. It's just you and him joking as usual.

You two stand there for awhile more. Some of the crew tries to pull Rooster back to the floor, but he just shakes his head. You can't stop the small feeling of joy when Rooster chooses to stay with you. Makes you feel your company cannot possibly be THAT bad.

"You dance though, don't you?" he questions

"Uh yeah, once in awhile. Why?"

"Your foot is tapping right now." he quips, his gaze dropping to your foot.

You freeze up, realizing he's right. He pushes himself off the wall with his shoulder to get a better look at you offering you a hand.

"Alright, you're gonna dance at least once. Deal?"

You wanted to say no just to avoid the situation. But the way he had come up to check on you, the way he's staying with you without actually making you feel guilty, you couldn't leave him hanging. You take his hand and shake it.

"Um, sure." You mumble. He smiles as he goes back to lean on the wall again.

"We'll wait for a good one." He notes with a wink as the two of you watch some girl reject Hangman for the third time that night. It was just not his night.

Your situation aside, you and Bradley were marveling over the fact there had yet to be one song Omaha didn't know. Every song he breezed through it like it was as easy as reciting the alphabet. The two of you could pick out the other regulars, but most of them had certain ones they were less familiar with. That was not the case with Neil "Omaha" Vikander. His consistency was popular with the crowd for sure. It was endlessly entertaining to see this new side of him.

"Alright, here it is." Bradley says, shaking you from your thoughts a few songs later. He grabs your (finally) empty glass placing it on the table along with his, grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the floor. In that moment you finally feel your shoulders leave their contact from the wall and it felt great, still your stomach was doing backflips in an anxious response. You would have likely felt more anxious if it had not been for Rooster's firm but comforting grip on your wrist as you two navigated the crowd. Eventually he found a spot near the back edge of the floor. No one would be trying to walk through there, or hopefully look back there. You were nervous enough as it was.

As you attempted to calm yourself, you realized you recognized the song.

"Footloose? Really?" You ask him, as the extended intro played. He beams at your familiarity with the song.

"Of course! It's a classic. One of my mom's favorites." You didn't miss how his smile lit up a little more when he mentioned his mom.

"Isn't this song fast?" You question.

"It's not that bad. It's pretty easy. Just follow me ok?" you nod as your eyes dark around the floor but Rooster slaps your arm lightly to grab your attention. "Don't worry about the people around us. They're doing their own thing.” And you then noticed how he had put you in the spot closest to the corner, that way you only had one person in front of you and him next to you. You appreciated the less pressure of this spot and he probably knew that. Before you could think too hard about it, the song started to pick up.

"You ready?" He smiles to you doing a few hops shaking out his shoulders.

"No clue." you shrug with a smile. No going back now.

And he was right. The dance itself really was not too hard to pick up. Were you a natural? Not in the slightest. Yet, you felt like you did much better than you had actually expected. Some of the moves weren't far from what you did in your kitchen. When you do mess up you look to Rooster who starts you talk you through it with a smile and a string of encouragements "There you go!", "That's it," "A natural, what did I tell ya?". It calmed you just enough to pick up the moves before the next verse. Every few moments when you were actually getting the moves, you'd dare to look over to Rooster who would be looking right back at you with a wide grin splitting his face. When the song ends you can't help but laugh looking back to him

"Hey, that was great." He raises his hand and you give him a high five. The two of you are just smiling at each other before you're interrupted.

"Aye, you finally made it down here!" Payback calls out, making his way over. "C'mon give it another song!" He does a little shimmy and you smile. Once you got out here it was easier, it was just that initial push off the wall. So that's what you did and yes, you were not good. But having Payback and Rooster beside you, it didn't feel like you were being a bother. Both of them were just glad you were on the floor. The whole squad, minus Coyote and Hangman who are still trying their best to not leave here alone tonight, migrated their way towards the three of you and it was a good time.

Eventually the night comes to an end as 2 AM hits the clock. The crew, including Coyote and Hangman, heads outside and after saying farewells heads in different directions. Of course, Bradley and you are the only two who are parked in the same direction. So you walk in a comfortable silence down the street.

"Thanks for helping me get out there tonight." you thank him after a few moments.

"I didn't do much. You just needed a push." He shrugs.

"Yeah, but if you hadn't, I wouldn't have had as much fun as I did."

He nods silently. A block passes by and he finally breaks his uncharacteristic silence just as your car comes into view.

"Hey, if you want to, we can always go again." he adds nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I kno..." but he cuts you off before you say any more.

"Just the two of us." he finishes.

You pause, processing what he just said.

"Figured maybe that would be less pressure." He shrugs, obviously trying to ease the tension his last phrase just created.

"I might have to take you up on that." You smile, having a hard time looking up from the ground the closer you get to your car, feeling his eyes are still on you.

"Hey," He calls and you know he's trying to get you to look at him, which you grant him that silent request.

"I hope you do." He tilts his head down in sincerity.

"Have a goodnight." He smiles and pats the side of your upper arm, as he spins around and heads back towards his Bronco.

"You too! You smile standing by your car.

He turns back as he continues walking.

"Already did." he chimes with a wink.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Every summer is gonna be a Top Gun summer from here on out.

[rainbow-universe]

Omg this is brilliant!!!!!!

Secret Santa: Part One

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10

Plot: When you and the squad end up taking part in a Secret Santa exchange. The gifts you receive end up being love confessions. But who are they from?

[Bob's Ending] [Fanboy's Ending] [Hangman's Ending] [Rooster's Ending] [ Maverick's Ending]

Pairing: Gn!Reader x ??? (Choose your own character ending) *Possible Endings: Bob, Fanboy, Rooster, Hangman & Maverick

Words: 2.9k

A/n: Bob and Fanboys endings will be posted Christmas Eve. And the other three will come out Christmas Day. I will add the links to this fic once they are posted.

-

Walking towards the training room, you heard the familiar voices of the other pilots. You had been reunited with the dagger squad, and some other pilots you knew from the past. Another mission, another training program, trained once again by Maverick.

Through the grueling training and test flights, you were enjoying your time being with the others again. Though you had to admit you were excited about one, more than the others, but you were sure they didn't know that.

As you entered the room, your eyes cast over the group. Hangman and Rooster were bickering as usual, while Bob and Phoenix rolled their eyes. Fanboy, Payback and Coyote watched silently, sharing the occasional look.

Seeing you enter Jake turned in his seat "Y/n, perfect, perhaps you could solve our little problem."

"Nope, no." You shook your head as you took your seat, "Do not drag me into whatever is going on, I don't want to be a part of it."

Phoenix and Bob snickered as Jake leaned over"Come on, I think you'd be on my side."

"Like hell they would." Rooster broke in.

You shook your head with a soft smile as you saw Maverick enter. "Pilots, good morning." He said with a cheery voice.

His eyes ran over you and the others as he walked past. In his hands was a Santa hat.

As he stopped at the podium he looked at all of you in silence for a short moment. "Before we start our training today, I thought we might have a little Christmas fun."

You quirked your brow and sat up a bit, you saw the others do the same.

"Sir?" Bob asked with a curious tone.

"Secret Santa!" He said with a smile.

A small murmur went over the group as Maverick shook the hat in his hands. "In this hat are all of our names. You will each pick a name, and over the next three days, starting tomorrow, you have to give your person three gifts."

"Three?" Jake spoke up.

"Yes, three. On day three, by the end of the day, you must give me a slip of paper with the name of the person you gifted, and the name of the person you think is your gift giver. If you guess correctly, you get a day off of training. If you are wrong. You will be cleaning up after the Christmas party."

A small groan came from the group as you all pictured what mess would be left behind after that.

"There are two rules. One, don't get caught leaving your person a gift, or you are disqualified. Two, do not tell anyone who your person is."

As Maverick walked around holding the hat out for everyone to take a name, your eyes scanned over everyone. You wonder who would be the easiest person to buy a gift for. Your eyes lingered on one person as you thought of a thousand things you could get them.

"If you get yourself, grab a different name." He said softly as he continued down the line.

Getting to you, he gave you a small smile as you reached in. Pulling out a slip of paper you opened it to read 'Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace.' You smiled softly before closing the paper and shoving it in your pocket.

After everyone had chosen their names, the class went on like usual, though you knew everyone was a bit distracted, thinking of what to get their chosen person. Though it wasn't a competition, a familiar buzz ran through the room.

You tried not to look at Phoenix, not wanting to give away she was who you got. But you did glance around, wondering if you might find someone looking at you.

You would be lying if you didn't have someone particular in mind as to who you hoped might be your secret Santa. The same person you thought would be the easiest to buy for. Though, the luck of them getting you was pretty small.

By the end of training you had enough time left to go out and try to find a gift for Phoenix. You had thought long and hard about the types of gifts she might like, but you still struggled. Knowing she had a thing for antique and vintage objects, you thought going to an antique store might do the trick.

Walking through the store, you looked at various objects, before finally landing on an old hourglass carved out of wood. It was certainly unique, and looked old. Buying it, you hoped she would like it. Knowing you wouldn't really know for a few days.

Making it back to the base after another hour of shopping you felt relieved, having bought three gifts for Phoenix, and some wrapping paper.

As you walked down the corridor, you saw Bob walking towards you. He smiled and his eyes caught on the wrapping paper in your hands.

"Don't tell me you got all your gifts already?" He asked with mild surprise.

You smiled "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't" You said jokingly as you continued past him, seeing him smile at you as he nodded in understanding.

As you rounded the corner, you looked back, seeing him disappear around the corner. 'I bet he's a great gift giver' You thought to yourself as you made your way back to your room.

Unpacking your shopping bags, you looked at the gifts you got Natasha. The hourglass, a gift card for one of her favorite shops she could never convince herself to buy something from, and a Phoenix pendant necklace you managed to find by chance in a cute shop near the beach. You had almost jumped in excitement when you saw it.

After wrapping the gifts, you finally went to sleep, your last thoughts being about who may have picked your name from the hat.

--- --- ---

During your break in between training the next day, you snuck Natasha's first present out of your room and quickly made your way to her room. Setting the present down in front of her door, you rushed back to your room. Breathing a breath of relief as no one spotted you.

As you rounded the corner to your room, you stopped as you spotted a bouquet of flowers placed at your door.

"Wha-" You looked back down the hall in bewilderment.

You had only been gone for a few minutes, and you hadn't seen or heard anyone else.

"Sneaky" You whispered to yourself as you walked up to your door.

Picking up the flowers, you smiled at them. It was a beautiful bouquet of Gardenias in an ornamental Christmas colored vase. You smelled them as you made your way into your room.

You knew it was a well known fact that you loved flowers, and often knew the meaning behind them, enjoying the symbolism of each individual flower. You were teased by some of the others about this in the past, which didn't really narrow down who might be your secret Santa.

"Gardenias" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember the meaning behind them.

Seeing a small note in the flowers, you pulled it out to see a short typed note.

'There's importance in the symbolism.'

You smiled as you remembered saying this once when the others were teasing you about why you were so determined to get the right flowers for someone as a gift.

Thinking back to that moment, you tried to remember who was in the room. Maverick, Hangman, Rooster, Bob, Fanboy and Coyote. Well, that doesn't narrow it down much.

"Appreciation? No, that's not it. Joy!" You knew that was at least one of them.

Setting the flowers on your table, you pulled out your phone to look it up. As you scrolled through the meaning of gardenias, your eyes caught on one particular meaning.

"Secret Love?" You asked softly, your heart beating heavily in your chest.

No, it could be the 'you're lovely' meaning. Just a friendly message. Not an admission. Unless it was?

As someone popped into your head, you felt a mild sense of hope, before you pushed it away. It might be a mistake. They may not have seen the meaning of gardenias as secret love.

You decided not to focus on this too much. Not until you knew more, maybe the next gift would tell you?

Hearing your alarm, you made your way out of your room for your next test flight. You took one last look at the flowers as you went.

As much as you tried, the idea of the flowers left for you being a confession stuck in your mind. You couldn't help but look at the others, wondering if it could be any of them.

You had hopeful thoughts for one, but that was all it was. Hope. There wasn't anything that made it seem obvious that they had feelings for you. Nor had there been from any of the others.

You were close to all of them, good friends. But secret love? You really weren't sure.

--- --- ---

The next day the pilots were abuzz with talk of their presents. Each trying to trick their Secret Santa into giving themselves away. Everyone eyed each other with suspicious gazes.

Natasha briefly mentioned the hourglass, and you could tell she had liked it. That was all the gratification you needed.

You kept your present to yourself, knowing that everyone would tease you about the flowers. Asking what their meaning was. You didn't want to out the meaning in case it was a mistake. So you played coy, only making everyone else more curious.

"Maybe their secret Santa forgot to give them their present?" Fanboy asked as he eyed you, his chin resting on the back of the chair in front of him.

You smiled softly at him and made a motion of a zipper across your lips as you looked to the front of the class as Maverick entered.

"Alright everyone, I know you are all talking about your secret Santa's Anyone get caught leaving a present?"

The was silence among the crowd and Maverick smiled "Good, stealth is important, I'd be disappointed if anyone got caught."

You were nervous to head back to your room after training. Expecting another present to be left for you. There was an odd sense of suspense, that you weren't sure was based around excitement or dread.

As you rounded the corner, and your eyes locked onto your door, you felt an odd pang in your chest as you saw nothing sitting at your door. Maybe they hadn't had time to leave it? Maybe they changed their mind on the prssent?

Getting to your door, you opened it, accepting that you were a bit disappointed. As you stepped into your room, you flinched as a small box fell from your door and bounced off your head, landing on the ground.

"What the hell?" You asked perplexed as you looked up at your door, seeing a small piece of tape, had been holding the box there. "How the hell-" You mumbled off as you reached down and grabbed the box.

You looked over at the window, wondering if they used it to get in. Or maybe they got the key?

Opening the small box, your heart was racing. Would this present give away another secret? Would it confirm or deny the meaning of the flowers? And why tape it to the door?

Seeing a small chain, you grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a small glass apple on the end. It was cute, but you wondered why they chose it of all things.

Seeing a piece of paper in the box, you pulled it out. Taking a deep breath as you opened it.

Another typed out message.

'Did you know in Ancient Greece, to throw an apple at someone was a declaration of love?'

Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the message again and again. To throw an apple? So the rigged the box to fall on you as though they were throwing it at you?

You wanted to laugh, but your heart was hammering too heavily. You sat on your bed and looked over at the gardenias. So it did mean secret love. That wasn't a misunderstanding.

As you sat there, thinking it over, more realizations came to mind.

The person who got you happened to be in love with you, and was now using the secret Santa exchange as a way to tell you.

You let out a long drawn out breath. You were touched, and excited, yet nervous. There was only one person out of all the pilots these gifts would really mean something from. If it was any of the others, could you ever feel the same?

Who would know about Ancient Greece? You wondered. It definitely seemed like some odd fact Bob, Rooster or Fanboy might pick up at some point. Hangman could be a secret romantic. Maverick was playing the game too and he knew a lot about random things.

You felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over you. Lying down you stared up at your cieling as you held the small apple necklace to your chest. It wasn't obvious who it could be. Would it be an insult to this person to keep hoping it was one specific person?

It would only hurt you more if you kept hoping it was them, and you were wrong.

Maybe the third gift would give it away. Sitting up, it suddenly donned on you that you needed to leave Natasha her second gift.

"Shit." You muttered as you looked over at envelope with the gift card. I could slip it into her locker, you thought. Or slip it under her door.

This secret Santa exchange took such a different turn than you were expecting, and you really didn't know how to act.

Looking at the clock, you saw it was nearly time to head out. You were all heading out to get dinner. You'd take the envelope with you, hoping to find a moment to slip it into her bag or car sometime during the night.

And maybe you could gather some hints about who might be your secret...admirer?

--- --- ---

As you walked across the tarmac the next day, your eyes landed on the person walking up to you.

"Nice time." Rooster said as he slowed in his step.

"Thanks, think you can beat it?" You asked with a teasing tone.

"I know I can." He winked before continuing past you and towards his jet.

You smiled and shook your head softly as you headed towards the locker room. After a long day of training, you were finally done.

You even managed to slip the last gift for Phoenix into her bag this morning. Having slipped the envelope under her door the previous night once you got back from the dinner.

During said dinner, hen the topic of secret Santa came up, you tried to pay attention To hints of who might be your secret Santa. But you learned nothing, everyone was keeping it close to their chests.

Today was the last day of the Secret Santa exchange. By eight this evening you had to give Maverick a slip of paper with your guess on it. You had yet to receive your third gift, and had yet to figure out who it was.

Opening your locker, you watched as an envelope fell to the floor. You looked around, seeing and hearing no one else in the room. Picking it up, you opened it, with your heart beating faster than before.

The third gift, what would it be? A full length confession? A gift card?

As you pulled two slips of paper out, your mouth opened slightly in surprise.

One slip was a ticket to a Christmas festival behind held about an hour away tomorrow night. You had wanted to go, but the tickets sold out too fast.

The second piece of paper was a short note, once again typed out.

'I have the other ticket, find me there.'

You stared at the paper in contemplation. So they had every intention of you finding out who they were after all. 'Find me there.'

It had to be someone who knew you wanted to go to the festival. Who did you mention it to?

Thinking back on it you sighed. Five of them knew about the ticket. That hardly narrowed it down. Though you were still aware that that specific someone always on your mind was one of them.

Tucking the ticket and note back into the envelope you put it in your duffle. You needed to decide what to do.

Not only who to guess, but whether or not you were ready to find out who they were. To find out who apparently had hidden feelings for you.

Your mind was heavy with uncertainty as you headed to Maverick's office at the end of the day. As you knocked on the door and handed him the paper, your heart was never steady.

You didn't know who you would find at the festival tomorrow, but you knew who you wanted it to be. Whether or not it was them, you would go, you had to. And if it was someone that you didn't have feelings for, well, you would deal with it then. No matter what.

Even with the nerve wracking thought it was unrequited love you might be finding at the festival, the hope that it was not unrequited, that it was a shared feeling, hidden between the two of you, made it worth the risk.

You just hoped you still thought that tomorrow.

xx End xx

Two of the endings will come out on Christmas Eve, and the last three on Christmas day. I will edit this post and link the endings at the top once they are out!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389

Hangman/Rooster Taglist: @readingwithatorch,

[daddy-cake]

Krueger x Mexican!Reader Headcanons

Y'all already know the drill, this is all sfw and Gender Neutral!Reader

No use of any Y/N variations

A/N: I'm Mexican and in love with him... I just had to. This place needed more Mexican!Readers anyways🙄

MEXICO RAHHHH🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼✊🏼

Reader is also implied to not be part of the military. Sorry not sorry <33.

Warnings: All of these just silly goofy

MASTERLIST

First time meeting your family is going to be Krueger's last.

The family wasn't so happy to hear that you fell in love with a white man.. They could have let it slide if he was American because most Mexicans are a suck up to Americans... but Austrian? Grandma was literally crying at the news and praying for the family, she was claiming that the family was truly doomed. The only thing that will get the family to calm down is you reminding them that he isn't from Spain or Argentina. Heavy on Argentina.

Family is going to be calling him "El Barbie" in a derogatory sense. You tried to tell him that it was a compliment and means that's he's tough in Spanish.

Your dad definitely tried to bond with him by taking him to rooster fight. However, the two came home and your father was beyond mad. He starts claiming that Sebastian is bad luck because his rooster, who has a streak of wining 20 tournaments, lost. Got rubbed by the egg afterwards.

Sebastian isn't too pleased with the environment. Parents are having an argument, kids are running around screaming or crying, music is playing at full volume, one of the dogs are barking, the tías are gossiping, La Rosa de Guadalupe is playing, Grandma rubbing him with the egg and praying, Grandpa is working on the roof, and some cousin is vacuuming.

When dinner came around... lord help this man. He wasn't prepared for the spice that only he could taste. Had tears trying to escape then he had to excuse himself from the table and go outside to regain his composure. The whole family was muttering "No aguanta nada" the whole time.

To say he was relieved to hear that you two were going home is an understatement. He preferred more of a quiet environment than one that is loud and makes it very apparent that he's not welcomed there.

When you two arrived at your own place he was ready to just pass out. He was warned that the place was going to be busy, but he thought he could handle it and it wasn't that bad since he was a soldier... he should've listened to you.

The next day was spent inside and not even letting an ounce of the outside in. Krueger dearly needed it to just regain his sanity from the pervious day.

Everything was going fine until when he wanted to prepare something for lunch. He was looking all over the kitchen for the pots and pans until he finally gave up and asked you where you kept them.

"Why are they in the oven?"

"You don't put them in the oven?"

Krueger at one point received a gift that was rooster from you and was so confused why you would gift him this. At first, he thought it was some sort of joke gift from you until he realized it was a genuine gift after a few seconds of silence. Doesn't even know what to do with it, so he ended up giving it to your dad. Dad was not happy.

The one time the both of you went out to dinner, he was not expecting other guests to keep telling you two to have a good meal as it wasn't a thing in all of the countries he has lived in.

Was told by you not to speak at all when you two were out on the streets or else y'all would get jump. Krueger doesn't listen to the rules though.

When you left your Banda music on while doing some chores, he was about to turn it off but he got really into the music.

Got a chihuahua simply because you begged for one and he found it somewhat funny that despite their small sizes they are very protective. Also it was between that or the stray xoloitzcuintli down the street that's been there for around 10 years.

100% brags about thechihuahua, saying he has a vicious dog that could kill anyone. Everyone thought he got a Rottweiler for a long time.

La Quebradita. Trust once you teach Krueger the basics, y'all gonna be making your cousins and their partners jealous. Considering he's part of a PMC and once in the military, he obviously is gonna have some strength. That strength comes in handy when you two want go all out in a Quebradita competition.

Considering Krueger was once part of the military, he obviously would be sort of tidy considering that they engraved that trait into his head when he first joined. So yes, he would help you clean around the house. HOWEVER, laundry duty is always on him. Simply the way that you'll probably fold clothes would just trigger something in him like a sleeper agent.

You'll always have to be the first to initiate any sort of "I love you"s. He doesn't know why, but he just can't bring himself to say it to you.

When Sebastian is away on missions, he often times receive texts from you that revolves around staying safe. He can't help it, but to have a small smile plaster on his face.

There will be some point in the relationship that he would just go off the grid and/or no contact for a few days. It's not that he hates you. It's just that considering the life he has lead, he definitely needs some points to take a step back to recollect in a way. Also to stay away from authorities, but let's not take about that.

Would never go into any sort of detail about his background besides being part of the military. He'd never once talk about his parents or why he's no longer part of said military. To you he's kinda of an enigma. You know so little about him, but he knows so much about you. You that it was unfair in a sense. However, no matter how much you try to get answers, he'd never budge. So after awhile, you start chalking things up to him having a strained relationship with his parents (which in a lot of Mexican households would probably mean that his parents were absolutely vile if you go no contact with them) and possibly leaving the military on his own terms.

Krueger would go great lengths for a mangonada. Me too bro, me too.

[say-al0e]

Bad Day

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Rooster knew that wedding planning wouldn’t be fun. He didn’t take into account how difficult it would prove when family got involved. 

Warnings: Abusive parents (no details, but implied), parental mental disorders (again, no details, but mentioned), bad/nonexistent relationship with family, Rooster reflecting on his family.

Pairing: Rooster x fem!Reader (I think can technically be read as gender neutral but, just in case, tagging as fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.3k

Top Gun Taglist | Requests are open!

The sound of slamming doors was not one often heard in your shared home. The few times it happened, it was an accident or the subject of a quick apology. Most of the time, when either you or Bradley arrived home, it was to the sound of music or idle chatter as someone spoke on the phone. Others, it was silence, though that depended on how the day had gone.

When Bradley arrived home to a flurry of movement and noise, he knew that whatever it was was bad. He assumed it was work related, as it so often seemed to be lately, and stood quietly as he watched you storm around the kitchen. Your anger would ebb, or boil over enough for you share your feelings sooner or later, he just had to wait it out.

His entrance was quiet and went unnoticed. You were too caught up in the emotions roiling in the pit of your stomach to feel the weight of his gaze as he took the time to observe you. Little had changed about the kitchen since he’d left for work - a pile of wedding magazines your mother sent were scattered across the counter, a few samples of card stock you’d picked up for invitations remained in a heap, and the notepad you’d been using to keep track of it all had a flurry of ink smeared across it - and he began to wonder if that had more to do with your mood than work.

The pair of you had yet to set a wedding date - his schedule was a little more set these days, since returning to Top Gun as an instructor, but there was never really any guarantee when planning something so far out - but he knew the planning wasn’t exactly your favorite thing.

Still, he was surprised when you finally turned and met his eyes. Yours, while usually so bright and full of life, were rimmed red and clearly exhausted. It had been a rough day, that much he could tell, but he knew he needed to wait for you to start the conversation.

With little hesitance, you shook your head. “All of this shit looks the same,” you huffed, voice breaking slightly as you gestured to the pile of magazines. You could feel your bottom lip begin to tremble as you scrunched your nose in an effort to stop the tears stinging the backs of your eyes from materializing. “And it’s all so fucking expensive, for just one day.”

To his credit, Bradley managed to keep a straight face. He knew you. He knew that it was uncharacteristic for you to get so worked up - just last week, you’d said the same thing, only it was accompanied by a laugh and a half-hearted plan to just elope in Vegas - and he did little to hide his frown as he stepped a little closer.

This wasn’t about the cost of the wedding or the similarity of the items and he knew that. So, he asked, “What happened, honey?”

With a sigh, you folded your arms over your chest and shook your head. “My mom called. She wanted to know what color palette we were hoping to use and if I’d given bridesmaids any thought. If I hadn’t, she was going to suggest my cousins. Then, she asked about the place settings and flowers and dinner. There’s so fucking much involved in planning a fucking wedding and it all just looks the same and she keeps asking, even though I’ve told her I’ve got it a thousand times.”

When you announced your engagement - well, when your mother noticed the ring you wore and stopped long enough to ask - she threw herself in headfirst. The constant conversations, more communication than you’d had in years, was taking its toll on you. That, in and of itself, was of no surprise to him. In fact, he’d seen it coming, even if he’d hoped he was wrong.

Still, Bradley knew that your relationship with your family was tenuous, at best.

The beginning of your relationship was slow, a little cautious, and the topic of family was avoided for as long as either of you could stand. He wasn’t sure how to bring up his parents and neither were you. However, your story came a little later than his.

Nearly a year into your relationship, you explained why you were so reluctant to tell him about your past.

If Bradley said any of it was a surprise, he would’ve been lying. He’d figured it out - as much as he could without being given specifics - but it wasn’t any easier to hear when you finally told him. Your mother, while physically present, was distant and difficult. She’d been married a half dozen times and each relationship seemed worse than the last. There was a myriad of mental illnesses and other concerns, none of which she sought help for, and Bradley was stunned at how little she seemed to care for you.

While hearing about your relationship with her was tough, your relationship with your father was worse. It was practically nonexistent and for good reason. You’d spared him the details but he understood why you cut him out of your life.

As difficult as it was, growing into adulthood without his parents - whom he loved beyond words - Bradley knew he was lucky to have had the parents he did. They loved one another fiercely and him even more. While he would give anything just to see them one more time, he was able to understand that not everyone was so fortunate. His heart ached that you were one of the unlucky ones, especially because, given the circumstances, you’d grown into one of the best people he’d ever met.

Since announcing your engagement, he’d been able to see what an interaction with your mother did to you - what she was like, how difficult she could be. This, however, felt different. So, he waited a beat and ventured a step further into the kitchen before asking, “What else happened?”

Bradley watched as you swallowed, blinked a little too fast to hide the emotion, and leaned back against the counter. For a moment, you chewed the inside of your cheek as you willed yourself not to cry. “My mom gave the other person responsible for my existence my phone number.”

That was the thing he’d been afraid of. While Bradley - and everyone else who knew the story of your father - understood why you cut him out of your life, your mother refused to see reason. It was only a matter of time before she did something like this but, still, he’d hoped this day would never come. “Shit.” He sighed, the sound quiet, as he leaned against the counter beside you and tipped his head to glance at you. “Did he call?”

“Mm.” You heaved a heavy sigh but kept your eyes on the tile floor instead of glancing at him. You knew that if you did, the tears would start and you would be rendered speechless. “I didn’t answer the first time for obvious reasons, but he annoyed my mom so much that she guilt tripped me into answering. She called after he did, well, four times while I was on the phone with him, and I snapped at her because he was a fucking dick, as per usual. Now, she’s pissed at me and he said he’d call back in a few days.”

There was little Bradley could say that would help - he knew that this wasn’t the moment for practical solutions or encouragement - so, he remained quiet and allowed you space to release everything you were feeling.

“I just…” With a harsh exhale, you shook your head and lifted a hand to wipe your eyes. “He calls and he asks what the weather’s like here, how I like my new job, if I like California better than Virginia, what you’re like. He’s pieced together my life from other people and he asks me these questions like he knows anything about me, like he’s entitled to know anything about me. All the while, he completely glosses over the fact that I spent the majority of my teens and early twenties completely afraid of other people because of him. He glosses over the fact that I hate every memory of my childhood, what memories I do have, because of him. He glosses over the fact that even though I know people love me, I still question it because of all the times he told me no one ever would. He glosses over the pain he caused because he feels entitled to a relationship and I know he’s only doing it because his time is almost up and he doesn’t want to die alone.”

Bradley remained quiet, gaze soft and so fucking heartbroken that you couldn’t stand to look at him as you shook your head. He stood still by your side, completely aware that you would want physical comfort but only after you’d gotten what you wanted to say out.

“That’s such a shitty thing to say and to feel, I know, and I hate it. But… Fuck, he asked when the wedding is and when he should be here, what color tie he needs to walk me down the aisle. He talked about not being able to walk very far anymore but said he’d do it, just to get me there, and it’s all such fucking bullshit! I don’t care if he really wants to make amends. It’s been years. He destroyed my life and he doesn’t get to do this shit, just because the end is near. I want an apology. I want an acknowledgment that he hurt me, physically and mentally, and then I want him to fuck off. I don’t want a relationship. He’s not invited to this wedding and I’ll be damned if my mom guilts me into having him or brings him herself. I don’t want either of them here, honestly. I love you and I’m so excited to be your wife. I just don’t want the best day of my life to be spent afraid of my fucking parents.”

When silence settled over the house, disturbed only by your uneven breathing, Bradley closed the distance he’d left between you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest, pressed as close as he could get you, and sighed as you wrapped your arms around his waist and gripped the t-shirt he wore. 

The way you shook in his arms made his heart break. He’d been toying with the idea of offering to elope since asking you to marry him - neither of you cared that much about the wedding itself; his parents had a small wedding, limited to their closest friends and family, and that was what you’d both wanted. Now that he knew the headache an actual wedding would entail, Bradley knew what needed to be done.

“Forget the wedding.” Bradley felt you tense, if only for a moment, before you lifted your head to glance at him. There was a confusion there, a little bit of hurt, and he was quick to shake his head. “Forget the actual wedding. Let’s just elope.”

“Bradley.”

Bradley moved his hands to cup your cheeks, touch soft as he brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m serious, honey,” he declared, eyes searching yours. “No day is worth feeling like this. All I want is to be your husband. We can have a party later, invite our friends. The wedding can just be us, though. No fancy clothes, no stupid place settings, no monogramed napkins, no one to ruin the day. We can take a road trip, go to Vegas and get married by Elvis. All that matters is that we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”

There was a moment of silence, a beat in which the weight of the world seemed to melt from your shoulders, before you frowned. “What about Mav, Penny, the others?”

“They can come, if they want,” Bradley offered, shrugging slightly, though you knew how important it was to him that Maverick and the others were a part of the day. “If you want them there. But we’re the only ones who have to be there."

“I want them there,” you assured him, “if they want to come, I’d love for them to be there.” The entire group had become as much of a family to you as they were to Bradley and you could’t imagine your wedding day without them. 

Bradley nodded, pleased with the outcome of the conversation, before he smiled. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Marrying my best friend in Vegas, I hope.”

With a laugh, Bradley returned his arms to your shoulders and pulled you into another embrace. “Sounds like a plan, honey.” He ducked his head, just enough to press his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss, before he pressed his forehead to yours. “You wanna call Phoenix while I call Mav and Hangman, rally the troops?”

“I love you a lot, Bradshaw. You know that, right?”

“I sure hope so. It’d make this whole thing kinda awkward if you didn’t,” he teased, grinning when you rolled your eyes fondly. 

Moments like that, little things that Bradley did to make you smile when you felt your worst, made you realize that if you only got one thing right, it was choosing Bradley. 

In the end, he was right. The wedding itself didn’t matter. No place settings, monogrammed napkins, or fancy outfits were were important enough for either of you to lose sleep over. The only thing that mattered was that you loved one another and wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. The people that mattered would be there - physically and in spirit - and, at the end of the day, you were just happy to have fallen in love with someone who loved you back just as much.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: The next fic I write will be light, I swear. Anyway, this won’t be everyone’s thing and that’s fine. I kinda want to write the elopement now, though. Anyway. Happy Monday.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles​, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth​, @withakindheartx​, @ssprayberrythings​, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath​, @alexparkxr​, @hangmandruigandmav​, @alexxavicry​, @calicokel, @jaymum​, @dracosluvbot​

[auroracalisto]

not your business

robert "bob" floyd x gn!reader, platonic!jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.4k words tw: alludes to a past abusive relationship, abusive ex showing up at work, brief fighting, cussing, gn!reader but doll and hon are both used once a/n: i liked the idea of bob comforting the reader while jake defends them. this was ultimately born. i'm also working on being more descriptive in my fics... i'm struggling y'all

"Stay away from me!"

You heard yourself shouting, but you didn't know if the words had actually left you or not. A lump formed in the back of your throat as you tried to keep yourself from crying.

Kellan stood across from you, face hard. You had evaded him for this long, and now that he had found you, you start yelling at him? He had half a mind to yell right back at you, but he knew it wouldn't work. He was better than that.

It had been nearly two years. Two years in sunny California, far away from the worries that once plagued your daily life. You had found a job at the Hard Deck, and day in and day out, you would have the time of your life knowing that you were safe with your friends. The sandy beaches and wide open skies became your favorite thing, especially when you were with him—your Bobby. You could only wish that that's where you were at this very moment, not standing here in the middle of the bar you worked at, the yellow glow of the lightning shining down on you as you were targeted.

The heat of the night burned your cheeks—or, maybe that was the fear you felt creeping up your spine, threatening everything you had found. It could all end, in a matter of minutes. With Kellan here, he could take you away.

You might not ever see Bob again. Tasha. Jake.

You couldn't let that happen. That couldn't happen.

Panic blossomed in your chest as you stared him down.

How did he even find you? You did your best to become a ghost of his past. You left in the middle of the night; no note, no text, no call. You blocked him on everything you could think of.

It obviously didn't work. Why didn't it work?

"Come on, Y/n, don't be like that," he said, raising his hands in mock defense. He took a step towards you and you immediately took a step back, unknowingly bumping into a table.

You quickly looked back, panic striking you where you stood. Thankfully, there was nothing on the table to knock over. But as you looked back, your eyes glanced over at the pool table the Dagger Squad surrounded. Bob had abandoned his drink on the edge of the table, taking a step closer to you. You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

They knew you were capable of defending yourself. Bob glanced back at his friends, a deep frown on his lips. This fucker was about to meet his end.

You had started out just a civilian living near the base, but you had grown quite close to each of the incredible pilots when they were in for training and missions. Of course, you had failed to mention your past—specifically Kellan. But it wasn't very hard to put two and two together.

Glancing back up at Kellan, you swallowed thickly.

The silence in the Hard Deck was unbecoming—deafening, even. But that's not to say it wasn't packed. In fact, people littered the floor, drinking to their heart's content and mingling with their friends, and now, they were pulled into whatever was going on now.

"You're coming back with me," he said. "I can't believe you just left me like that. I come home one night, and everything you own is just... gone. You up and left me." He reached forward, tightly grabbing onto your wrist.

"That's it," Hangman's voice boomed across the room, fighting back his urge to shout obscenities. With heavy footsteps, he came across the two of you. "Let them go."

Bob was not far behind.

Kellan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And what are you gonna do, fly boy? Rough me up a little bit? They're mine. Unless," Kellan turned his gaze to you, a wicked smile growing on his face. "Did you leave me for this fucker? You are such a whore."

In an instant, Hangman had drawn back his fist. Only seconds remained before his fist collided with the man's jaw, knocking him to the hardwood floor.

Bob had come up beside of you, wrapping a hand around your arm. You looked up at him with wide eyes, immediately clinging on to the man. He pulled you into his arms, keeping you from the brunt of Hangman's warranted anger. You immediately clung to him, but your eyes remained glued to Kellan. Your head rested on his chest as you took a deep, shaky breath.

He scrambled to his feet, spitting blood at Hangman's shoes.

"You bitch," he seethed. "Fucking the whole squad, are you?"

You could feel Bob tense under you. He went to pull away, fingers itching to show the man a piece of his mind, but you quickly stopped him as you grabbed onto his shirt.

"Please," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, but stayed with you. Hangman would do enough damage on his own.

"No," Hangman scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the man. "They're just fucking one of us, but I don't really see how that's any of your business, asshole."

"It's my business because they're my bitch," he said, voice laced with what he believed was a threatening growl.

Hangman couldn't help but laugh. This dude was crazy. He couldn't believe they were even having this conversation.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, grinning widely at the man.

Kellan's eyes narrowed, and he found himself lunging at him. But Kellan had never been very graceful. Hangman stepped to the side, watching as Kellan sputtered to a stop. He pulled his fist back again, prepared to hit him when he heard your voice.

"Hangman, it's not worth it," you quickly said.

Hangman glanced at you, eyes softening. You were a dear friend of his, and even though he wished to beat this douche to a pulp, he'd respect your wishes (but that doesn't mean anyone else would). He looked back at Rooster, and a silent agreement was made. Rooster would take care of it.

Hangman's blood boiled in the confines of his veins. With one glance, he grabbed Kellan by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to the exit.

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god I'll kill you," he said, shoving him out the door. Kellan lost his balance, falling down the stairs. The satisfaction was worth it even if Hangman hadn't actually hit him again.

The man straightened out his uniform once more, glancing back at where you stood. Tears streaked your cheeks and your arm was red from where he had grabbed you. With just a few strides, he was by your side.

"You okay, Y/n?"

You gave a small nod, still clinging to Bob.

"Thank you," you said.

Hangman faintly smiled. "I should have stepped in sooner. I couldn't tell what was happenin'," he said. "Why don't... why don't you two head home? You look pretty shaken up, doll."

You frowned deeply, looking up at Bob who seemed to agree.

"I'll drive," Bob said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'm... I'm fine. But I think I should tell you what that was about," you said.

"You don't have to," he immediately said. "If that's something you wanna keep to yourself—"

You faintly smiled. "You deserve to know," you said. "You all do. It's... it's time I stop running from my past. Have a fresh start, with all of you."

Bob began to smile, taking ahold of your hand. Hangman went to grab a couple more drinks as Bob pulled you over to the Dagger Squad. Rooster and Coyote were nowhere to be found—Phoenix knew exactly where they had gone, but she said nothing as she pulled you into a tight hug.

"Come on, hon," she said, smiling. "You doin' okay?"

"I'm fine," you said. "Really. I don't know if I've ever been better."

Bob placed a hand on the small of your back. You glanced back at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

Just moments before, you wondered if the world you had built up would come crashing down. But you no longer worried about something like that—it was obvious that you had the best people to be around; there was no way your world would crash unless you let it, yourself.

[lilithslittleworld]

Masterlist <3 (By Fandom, character, and type)

Just a little reminder link to my character list and that requests are open!!

Twilight Saga:

Quileute Pack

Seth Clearwater:

Formal Crushing (fluff, oneshot)

Jacob Black:

New Moon if Edward had never come back (Chapters)

New To This (fluff, smut Jacob x Reader oneshot)

Cullens

Alice Cullen:

Our Little Secret (Alice x Bella smut)

Bella Swan/Cullen:

Our Little Secret (Bella x Alice smut)

Headcanons:

How Bella’s (and Alice’s) Graduation Party Actually Went (or should’ve gone): (headcanons)

Divergent Series:

Peter Hayes

All For You (smut, angst, some fluff. oneshot)

Jeanine Matthews

The Exception (fluff and angst oneshot)

Four/Tobias Eaton

Intruder (Four x reader smut, oneshot)

His Girl (Four x reader fluff, oneshot)

Character Headcanons:

How The Divergent Characters Would React To You Being Injured\In Pain (angst, fluff, headcanon)

Harry Potter Universe:

Weasleys

Fred Weasley:

Ambulo Aqua (Fred x fem reader, fluff)

Harry Potter Guys

Oliver Wood

Locker Room Tales (Oliver x gender neutral reader, fluff)

Harry Potter

The Chosen One (Harry x reader, smut)

Marauders era

Remus Lupin

What Better Way to Relax Than Sex? (Remus x fem reader, smut)

Harry Potter Headcannons

Doing It With The Harry Potter Characters Is Like (smut headcannons)

Top Gun Fandom:

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Hanging In There Series: Part 1 Jake "Hangman" Seresin Hanging In There Series: Part 1

The Hunger Games Series

[elvisabutler]

elvis presley x reader

give you my heart ( rated t, big daddy elvis ) come and trim my christmas tree ( rated m, big daddy elvis. the smuttier version of give you my heart. ) sentimental over you ( rated g, big daddy elvis fluff. ) the happiest place on earth is here with you ( rated t, 60s elvis. ) catharsis ( rated m, sub big daddy e. gender neutral reader. ) teddy bear ( rated t, big daddy elvis, plus size reader. ) i got a feeling in my body ( rated m, 60s elvis sugar daddy. work in progress. ) never, no never, a baby, baby like mine ( rated m, 70s/big daddy elvis. sequel to my baby’s sure his love’s secure from kinktober. work in progress. ) make you know it ( big daddy elvis showing female reader how good sex can be. work in progress. ) orpheus ( elvis x priscilla x reader. sequel to gravity. work in progress. ) watch the smoke pour out the doors ( rated m, vampire elvis ) is this a sexual buffet or a comeback special? ( rated m, incubus elvis. co-written with @prompted-wordsmith ) teeth grown sharp and glowing red ( rated me, incubus elvis. sequel to is this a sexual buffet or a comeback special? co-written once again with @prompted-wordsmith. ) queen of graceland verse ( that one breeding kink-ish series ) masterlist professor presley ( big daddy ) masterlist beyond the sea verse ( selkie elvis ) masterlist gunmetal masterlist

elvis presley x original female character

spark masterlist ( never famous big daddy electrician au with war ptsd, elvis the pelvis mentions and tragic married women oh my. rated ) quiet on the set masterlist ( late hollywood elvis gets directed by alfred hitchcock's daughter and falls head over heels in love and shenanigans happen. ft. elvis as stanley from streetcar named desire and as rooster from true grit. )

elvis presley

caught in a trap masterlist

[blurredcolour]

You Left Your Name On My Lips

“It's Not The Prompt. It's The Creator." Challenge

Prompt: "Last summer was one no one could ever forget. Now, a year later, character(s) still feel(s) the effects of that time.”

Summary: A rare professional opportunity reignites painful memories of what seems was never meant to be.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Angst, Major Character Death in Retrospect, Discussion of Loss and Grief, Discussion of Graves, Military Inaccuracies, Political Inaccuracies, Several References to January 6 Capitol Riots, Minor Reader Injury, Blood, Hospital Setting, Brief Discussion of Prosthetics, References to Sad Maverick, Medal Ceremony, Surprise Ending. Rating - T.

Credit: Paramount Pictures

Author's Note: Reader has no gender or physical descriptions. Pronouns are used a few times as they/them. All images contain image descriptions for accessibility. Thank you very much for reading and happy one year anniversary to Top Gun Maverick!

Word Count: 7505

“You left your name on my lips, everyone I meet knows I loved you…” – Katherine Perez (@s.h.e.ispoetry)

The late afternoon thunderstorm broke over West Executive Avenue just as you left the safety of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, hastening your steps into a run while you darted across the street toward the West Wing. As a member of the speech writing staff, you found yourself traversing this route often throughout the workday, but rarely at the direct request of the Deputy Communications Director.

Pressing the notebook in your hand into service as a make-shift umbrella, you hitched your laptop bag higher onto your shoulder and dashed into the building. You took a moment to ensure you looked presentable before signing in with security and heading towards the Communications bullpen. You paused at the corner of Ben Simkin’s desk, waiting for the Assistant to the Deputy Communications Director to finish his phone call so he could tell you how many minutes late your meeting would be.

“Looks like you just beat the rain.” Ben said as the phone rattled home into its cradle. “She’s only five minutes late so you can come right in.” He stood and led you through the open office door.

“Thanks, Ben. Definitely got in here at the right time…” You muttered, watching the deluge cascade against the windowpane.

“I saw you’re on holidays next week, going anywhere exciting?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe to indulge in a moment of friendly conversation.

You had always enjoyed Ben’s personable warmth. Particularly in contrast to the brusque efficiency of Faith Watson, the woman who shared administrative duties for the Communications team. It was always a good day when you got a reply from Ben rather than her.

“Just back to visit the family, they are constantly complaining they don’t see enough of me. I don’t see enough of me…” The pair of you shared a laugh before his line began to ring again and he hurried out to answer it quickly.

A flash of lightning flickered through the dimly lit office, thunder cracking and rumbling promptly in its wake as you settled into one of the chairs across the empty desk. Your thoughts turned back to the possible reasons why you had been summoned here when your eyes skidded to a halt on the file folder resting on the cluttered yet orderly desktop. The three letters scrawled in a black marker sorely in need of an ink refill sucked the moisture from your mouth, making you squirm in your chair uneasily.

MOH

“So sorry to keep you waiting.” Your boss suddenly burst into the room, and you stood quickly as she turned on a few more lights to fight off the gloom of the storm.

“N, not at all. How can I help?” You asked quickly, sitting as she assumed her seat behind the desk and gestured for you to sit as well.

You watched with trepidation as her hand stretched out to land on the very same folder that had evoked such a physical reaction within you just moments before. Shit.

“As you’re well aware, we have a Medal of Honor ceremony coming up this Friday. I’ve just gone through the latest draft of the speech and Michael has done a wonderful job, but it is missing…. something. Some sense of who the Lieutenant Commander was.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips nervously as you tried to take steady breaths, nodding to show that you were listening as you held your notebook on your lap in a ruthless grip.

“It’s my understanding that you knew him?” She tilted her head, eyeing you thoughtfully as you slowly nodded, wondering from exactly where this information had reached her.

“Yes, I did.” You somehow managed to voice.

“I know this is perhaps an impossible ask, but given your talent with words as well as your personal insight, I was hoping you might agree to take a pass at it?” She tented her fingers in front of her lips, assessing your reaction thoughtfully.

There was a reason she was sitting behind that desk. She had just made an incredibly difficult request wrapped within a compliment and tied with the bow of a professional opportunity. And while your initial, visceral reaction was to refuse, the rational and professional part of your brain interceded.

“I would be honored, ma’am.” You nodded, wishing your voice sounded more confident, but still thrilled that you had been able to speak.

“Thank you. I consider this a personal favor and will not forget it.” She glanced back at the rain pelting against the windowpane behind her and frowned. “Why don’t you get Ben to find you somewhere in the West Wing to work on this. A lot of people will have left for the day, and we need to get this finalized as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, I will get started right away…” You gulped and reached out for the folder, tucking it close against your body as you tried to leave her office at a reasonable pace instead of the headlong flee that was burning to be released from the muscles of your legs. “Ben?” You cleared your throat as your voice came out slightly brittle and shaky. “Do you think you can find me a hole in the wall somewhere in this building?”

He raised an eyebrow before turning to his computer, clicking around. You raised your own eyes to the ceiling above you, calling upon whatever higher beings you could think of to grant you strength and patience.

“Follow me.” He said at last, though in truth it had been a sum total of forty-five seconds, before he led you through a maze of corridors and down a set of stairs into a plain office. “Usually held in reserve for the Deputy Chief of Staff’s Office…they are clearly not using it right now…You ok?” He eyed you skeptically and you swallowed tightly, offering a nod and a tight smile.

“Just in for a late night is all.” You clarified.

“Well, the kitchen is open for another two hours so maybe get some food now.” He advised. “Or you’ll be eating a hot dog on the corner, and you’ll never find this room again.”

The laugh that his comment pulled from you brought with it faint relief from the tension you had been carrying since your meeting and you nodded, setting your things on the dated wooden desk.

“Thank you, Ben. Have a good night.”

The door shut behind him with a careful click as you went about setting up your laptop, connecting to the network, and settling into the questionably supportive chair before at last you had no choice but to turn your attention to the file folder you had been dutifully ignoring. As you loaded the word processing file of the speech from your email, you tugged the packet closer. Opening it slowly revealed a copy of the medal citation and other documents pertaining to the ceremony on the left side, while the redacted Naval personnel file of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw lay on the right.

With unsteady fingers, you moved to lift the personnel file before suddenly losing your nerve, curling your fingers back into a fist and turning instead to read over the medal citation.

The words blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors behind the tears that flooded your eyes, refusing to be blinked away any longer. Everything had changed that day, just over a year ago, when Bradley Bradshaw had sacrificed his life to save everyone on board the aircraft carrier upon which he had been serving. You had found out a week later, along with the rest of the world, when the news broke on CNN. Truthfully, as his ex, you had not been entitled to anything more.

The cold hard truth that your relationship, ended by mutual decision in the late fall of 2020, was well over, had not made his death any easier to bear. It had, rather, clarified a fact you had been desperately trying to deny – you were still very much in love with the man and ending your relationship based on your diverging career paths and the 2,500 miles between you had been the worst mistake of your life. And now he was never going to come home.

Slumping over the back of the chair, you sealed your palm over your mouth as the sobs rose in your throat, unbidden yet unstoppable. Hot tears spilled from your eyes, scorching their way up along your temples as each exhale wracked your body with grief that remained as raw and unresolved one year on. His absence from this earth had created a jagged chasm in the pit of your stomach – one that refused to be filled or covered over no matter how hard you worked or what failed relationships you had pursued.

Grounding yourself by digging your heels into aggregate flooring and sinking the nails of your free hand into the distressed wood on the underside of the desktop, you managed to slow your breaths. To cram the agony of your grief back into its cage beneath your breastbone, leaving you an exhausted wreck in the gathering dark of your borrowed, subterranean office. You searched through your laptop bag, hoping you might have saved some napkins from that last time you’d eaten out, but you were disappointed to find nothing more than a few pens.

Seriously considering wiping your face on your shirtsleeves, you looked up startled at the knock on the door before Ben’s face appeared through the small gap as he opened it. He tutted gently as he took in your barely recovered composure.

“I thought as much.” He murmured gently before sliding into the room with a box of tissues, a tray of drinks, and two takeout containers.

“Ben…you are a saint…” You croaked and paused, not sure which of the items he set on the desk you wanted the most before ultimately settling on the tissues.

Turning slightly in your chair, you made quick work of mopping your face and blowing your nose as discreetly as possible in the small space afforded in the office. After discarding the used tissues, your next priority was a cold beverage, sighing deeply after you took your first sip.

“You even got my favourite.”

He grinned proudly, snacking on French fry from his meal, having settled into the only other chair in the room.

“I could just tell…”

“A saint, Ben.” You reaffirmed before carefully tucking into the meal he had procured for you.

A few bites in you remembered yourself and quickly fished out your phone, sending him a funds transfer for the food.

“Oh, that wasn’t…” He muttered after he checked the resulting notification on his phone. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You sniffed thoughtfully, swallowing your bite as you shook your head.

“I’m not, but I still really appreciate this, Ben.”

“So, you didn’t…just know him did you…” He asked hesitantly and you paused with a bite of food raised to your lips before taking the food into your mouth and shaking your head again.

“No Ben,” You clarified after swallowed. “I was very much in love with Bradley Bradshaw. Still am I suppose, even though he’s…gone…” The final word of your sentence seemed to catch in your throat reluctantly, and you coughed a little to force it out.

Ben frowned deeply and looked over the folder laying open on the desk.

“I’ll talk to her, there’s no way she can ask this of you…”

“No! No, I…I agreed to do it, it’s an opportunity to touch a Presidential speech directly and independently. I don’t get those very often Ben. And I. It’s something I can do for him, one last time.” Your throat constricted again ominously so you nodded, hoping that sufficiently rounded out the thought you were trying to communicate.

Ben inhaled deeply, holding his breath in inflated cheeks, before exhaling it through pursed lips as he nodded.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He tilted his head.

“This,” you gestured at your nearly completed meal, “has already helped more than I can say. Thank you.”

His soft smile was a balm to your aching heart – by no means a cure, but it had a soothing effect.

“Did you want to talk about him?”

“I don’t think. I don’t think that I can quite yet, Ben. Maybe someday? I’d like to…someday….”

“When you’re ready then.” He stood to collect the remnants of your meal, moving toward the door. “Are you alright if I head home?”

“Please do! You really didn’t have to stay for me. But thank you.” You nodded and he smiled warmly before stepping out, leaving you to the quiet of the office.

Taking a few deep breaths, you put some background music on your phone to help you focus on the task at hand before pulling up the speech to review what had been written thus far. The Deputy Director had not been wrong, there was a dimension missing. Typically, interviews were conducted with the honoree’s family, but Bradley had no close family left to speak for him. You knew that one of the main reasons he had chosen to stay out in California, rather than returning to Virginia, had been to reconnect with Maverick – Captain Mitchell, but he did not seem to be a man of many words.

At least he had not been that night when he showed up at your apartment door bearing a handwritten letter from Bradley. It had taken him several weeks to track you down; your personal details including phone number and address were unlisted for your safety and security. Working in politics had taken on an entirely different level of risk after January 6, 2021, but even before that you had made the choice to be as difficult to find as possible.

He had not had much to say as he stood there in his dress blues, other than to confirm your name and give you his condolences. He had delivered some prescribed line about Bradley’s bravery before disappearing down the stairs of your building, leaving you with the worn envelope, your name scrawled on the front in Bradley’s handwriting.

Shaking your head to physically clear the thoughts from your mind, you turned your focus back to the cursor in your word document, blinking at you expectantly, before beginning to type out an additional paragraph.

Words fall utterly short when we try to describe who someone was. We must look to their deeds. The words “Reckless disregard for personal safety” in his citation are striking. Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw had a history of fearless determination. He was unafraid of pursuing his goals despite any obstacles in his path, and twenty-two-months prior to the events of July 2022 was fully prepared to lay down his life for his superior officer.

“He even risked disciplinary action to call his ex from work during the Capitol Riots of January 6…” You sniffled aloud, shaking your head fondly.

You had been working for a prominent Senator during that time, doing some paperwork when the crowd infiltrated the Capitol building. Alone in the office, the rest of your colleagues in the chamber staffing the Senator, you had been frozen by panic and uncertainty. The unexpected vibration of your cellphone on your desk had been jarring, particularly when Bradley’s name accompanied it on the screen.

You had taken the call, whispering beneath the Senator’s desk, and he had talked you through barricading the door, through making the office appear unoccupied. You had heard someone begin to reprimand him on his end of the line, but he had continued to speak to you calmly, reassuringly.

“You’re going to be alright, just keep low, keep quiet, and keep that umbrella in your hands, ok?”

“O…k…ok Bradley.” You had whispered, not sounding nearly as sure as he had.

“I have to go now…” He had apologized gently.

“You’re damn right you do, Lieutenant Commander!” You had heard the sharp bark of his superior much closer this time.

“Thank you!” You had risked a little more volume to give him your emphatic gratitude before ending the call, feeling somewhat more prepared to deal with whatever might come down the hall.

It was the last time you had spoken to him.

You realized now that you should have called him back, but at that the time life had been moving so fast. As soon as the building was made safe, the voting had resumed. And then the transition team had called offering a position on the speech writing staff in the White House. The whirlwind of activity had been shifted into a higher gear of intensity at that point until the next time you looked up was to watch the report of his death on CNN.

Filled with a sudden curiosity, you turned to his personnel file, gnawing on your lower lip as you leafed through the papers contained within. You let out a gasp when you came across the notation that a nonpunitive letter of caution was delivered to him on January 7, 2021. While the contents of these letters were typically private, it was not hard to guess just what message Bradley’s superior officer had delivered to him.

“Oh Bradley…” You sighed fondly, shaking your head before turning back to your keyboard with renewed inspiration.

After two hours of writing, shaping, and polishing, you felt confident enough to submit your version of the speech to the Deputy Director. Sending the email, you carefully packed up your laptop before tucking the contents of the Bradley’s personnel file and citation back into the ceremony folder with a quiet reverence.

Stopping by her office, you were not surprised to see her still there working away. You dropped off the folder and wished her a good night. The rain had let up during your time working underground, leaving a blissfully cool evening, free of the usual summer humidity. Due to the late hour, public transit was quieter on your commute home, and your street almost tranquil. Dropping your keys and bills from your mailbox on the kitchen counter, you found your steps leading you to your bedside table of their own volition, filled with a desire to reread Bradley’s last words to you.

You sat on the edge of you bed, turning on the lamp there, and fished the worn envelope out from the bottom of the drawer. Carefully unfolding the familiar creases, you traced your eyes along his slanting penmanship.

Tilting your head back to prevent any stray tears from soiling the paper, the idea to laminate the pages to preserve them flitted through your mind once again. And yet the idea of putting a barrier between you and his words remained so off-putting that you shook you head. You carefully tucked it away for next time, dragging your tired mind and body to the shower.

The final draft of the speech was presented at the Communications team meeting the next afternoon, accompanied by your heart hammering beneath your ribs and a knowing grin from the Deputy Director. It was your version, untouched from the night before. There was no formal announcement, no by-line, but the people who needed to know, knew the authors of that speech. And you were indisputably one of them. As you were making your way out of the room, your boss stopped you, extending an invitation to the ceremony on Friday.

“I recognize it might be difficult…” She stated, giving you an out, but you took a breath to steel your resolve and shook your head.

“I’d be honored to attend, thank you.”

“Wonderful, I’ll have Ben set it up in your calendar.” She smiled before excusing herself to answer a call on her cell.

The building was a flurry of activity the day of the ceremony. The sheer extent of it – uniformed personnel and staff rushing through the lobby, the buzz of conversation – set your teeth on edge as you stepped into the West Wing that morning. Rather than making your way directly to your meeting, you decided to stop by Ben’s desk as he had an innate talent for picking up on the root cause of chaos as this seemed far beyond the usual for this type of occasion.

As you entered the Communications bullpen, his eyes widened when they met yours and he hardly seemed aware of the phone receiver pressed to his ear, belatedly uttering an apology before ending the call. He glanced around before lurching to his feet and grasping your elbow, pulling you into the notably empty Deputy Director’s office.

“You should sit.” He said with no preamble.

“Good morning, Ben, it’s lovely to see you too. I had a good sleep thank you for asking.” You greeted him with plenty of sass and a raised eyebrow.

You were already feeling snappish this morning, nerves frayed by excess emotion, and whatever sudden onslaught of chivalry he was experiencing was unwelcome.

“I’m sorry. The ceremony today has been postponed indefinitely.” He frowned, gesturing at one of the empty chairs hopefully but you shook your head as your stomach sank.

“Indefinitely? I don’t understand. These things don’t get postponed, they are thoroughly researched and perfected and…what on earth happened?!” You realized your volume had gradually increased to reach something akin to a shout as he winced, and you frowned. “Sorry…”

“You’re not going to sit, are you…” He sighed and you shook your head impatiently.

“Ben…” You said warningly.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw has been located alive in Kuwait and was air lifted to hospital in Germany during the night.”

You realized that Ben’s lips continued moving after the word ‘alive’, but your ears were filled with a dull buzzing. All of the blood in your body felt as though it seeped out of the soles of your feet into the plush office carpet, and you crumpled to the floor.

The bright glare of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and Ben’s frantic face greeted your return to consciousness and you hissed at the pain in your right cheek, reaching a hand up to find a tender spot. Your fingers came away smeared faintly with blood.

“You clipped the corner of the desk on the way down…are you ok?!” He looked you over quickly, finding a tissue to press against your cut.

“I think…I think so. Ben. Repeat what you said…” You looked to him, terrified to be optimistic.

“He’s alive.” He could barely contain his grin, squeezing your shoulders as he punctuated the statement with your name. “He’s alive, after all this time, he was hiding somewhere and…I don’t have all the details yet, but…they obviously want to put the medal around his neck once they get him home.” He looked around suddenly. “But you! You should call in sick right now and buy a ticket to Germany. Go. Go to him.”

Your eyes whirled around the room, trying to find something to focus on to help you process the fact that man you had just help eulogize in a Presidential speech had in fact survived his act of reckless disregard for personal safety. Ben pulled the tissue away from your cheek and your eyes were drawn to the bright red contrasting sharply against the white between his fingers. Everything seemed to crystalize in your mind, and you looked to him quickly.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah, you do.” He grinned wider. “I’ll start texting you flights, get out of here.” He quickly slapped a bandage onto your cheek from the nearby first aid kit before shooing you out of the office.

You darted back to your desk, leaving your sick message on the Deputy Director’s voicemail and texting Ben that you had done so. He replied that it was duly entered into the attendance log and then spammed your phone with flight deals. You got home, throwing together a suitcase and grabbing your passport within an hour, flight booked to leave in three hours. Turning around quickly, you changed out of your suit into something more appropriate for a long-haul flight, before heading to the airport.

Six hours later, you found yourself pushing long-cooled airplane food around its sectioned tray as your eyes stared unseeing at the movie on the screen in the back of the headrest in front of you. Your mind was too busy mulling over the improbability, the impossibility, of it all to focus on the film you had chosen to distract yourself, the meal you had chosen from the options on the flight attendant’s cart.

How, in this era of hyper-interconnectedness, had a Bradley gone unfound for over a year? You knew from his citation that his was the only American plane in the air at the time, from the investigation records that they only had radar and radio communications to rely upon to detail the events before his plane crashed. Courtesy of those same records, you knew a covert operation had been undertaken to examine the crash site in enemy territory. That some form of remains had been recovered, identified, and buried in Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego.

Yet the postponement of a Medal of Honor ceremony was unprecedented. It would not have occurred on the basis of mere speculation or rumor. Ben’s report that Bradley was alive must be true, but how it was possible was entirely beyond your comprehension.

Landing in Frankfurt at five thirty in the morning local time, you were then faced with nearly three hours of public transportation before you finally arrived at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. You had barely slept or eaten, but Ben’s bandage was still securely in place on your cheek. At least that was something in your favour.

After all you had overcome to arrive at the nursing station in Germany, you had not expected to be thwarted by a dour-faced Army sergeant.

“Are you family?”

“Well, no, not exactly but I…”

“Authorized personnel and family only.” He replied firmly, looking down his hawkish nose at you and you frowned down at the flecked pattern on the worn laminate countertop.

“Add them to the list, they are family.” A voice interceded from the other side of the l-shaped desk, and you lifted your eyes quickly to see Captain Mitchell standing there. “Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw will want to see them.”

He looked younger than the last time you had seen him. As though the weight of the entire Navy had been lifted off his shoulders. There was, perhaps, even the trace of a smile in his eyes as he nodded for you to hand over your passport so the long-suffering sergeant could add you to the list of approved visitors.

“His room is this way, come on.” He tilted his head toward the wide, sterile hallway and you found your feet rooted to the spot, unable to take another step after flying thousands of miles on the word of your colleague. “Truly. He will want to see you.” Captain Mitchell assured you and, swallowing roughly, you found the will to propel your body into motion once more.

Captain Mitchell stepped into the room first and you carefully set your luggage in one of the chairs by the door, inhaling sharply as you heard a voice you thought had been silenced forever.

“Heya Mav, thought you were going for coffee…” Bradley rasped.

“Found something better on the way…” He turned to the side to reveal you, standing there like a deer in headlights, staring at a very alive Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw.

He was thinner than the last time you had seen him, having endured who knows what hardships in the name of survival over the past twelve months. His normally tan skin had lost its glow too, most likely from the necessity of hiding, and his customarily trimmed moustache had expanded down his cheeks and jaw into a full beard. Lack of sunlight had kept his chestnut hair dark as well, grown long in luscious waves. Yet he was still unmistakably the man that kept a firm hold over your heart, long frame barely fitting on the bed, propped up in a sitting position beneath a white and blue flannel hospital sheet.

Your name fell from his lips in a whisper, and he looked quickly between you and Captain Mitchell.

“You sure I’m not dead?”

Blinking rapidly as tears threatened to flood your vision, you and Captain Mitchell shook your heads at the same time.

“No Rooster, you’re definitely alive, they’re definitely here, and I’m definitely going for that coffee now.” Captain Mitchell excused himself and you walked over to the hospital bed slowly, trying to remember how to breathe. In and then out.

You did not need to faint again, especially not in front of Bradley.

“Hi…” You said quietly, feeling suddenly shy. Even draped over a hospital bed after a year of being declared dead Bradley was still the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes upon. Even with a full beard. Perhaps especially…

He held out his hand to you and you quickly took it between both of yours, sighing softly at the reassuring warmth of his skin as he guided you even closer to his bedside. With his free hand, he reached up to run his fingers along the bandage across your cheek.

“What happened?” He frowned.

You huffed a self-deprecating laugh and shook your head.

“Close encounter with a desk while fainting.” You muttered. “Are you ok?”

“You fainted? When?” He looked you over, concern knitting his brows tighter.

Typical Bradley, ignoring any concern you might have for him. Unchanged in the least.

“About…fourteen hours ago, I suppose?” You grimaced.

“Because of me.” He said flatly and you conceded with a nod. “I’m sorry…”

“Please…Don’t apologize, it was the best news. I…I just happened to fold like a deck chair.”

His lips twitched into a grin which you echoed happily.

“Such a softie.” He teased.

“I’ll have you know I fought off the QAnon Shaman with that umbrella, thank you.” You boasted playfully.

He squinted at you quizzically and you registered that perhaps he was not quite well enough for that level of humor.

“Not really, I was removed to a safe room shortly after our call. Thank you again Bradley. Thank you for taking the time to write me that letter, as well. For asking Captain Mitchell to bring it to me. It meant a lot.” Your voice trembled, betraying your heightened emotions.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry I was such a moron and never said any of those things to you until I thought I was going to die.”

Shaking your head quickly you lifted his hand, still clasped between yours, and kissed the tips of his fingers.

“I’m just as guilty…I mean I technically haven’t even apologized to you in return. I wrote you a letter in reply, but I left it in San Diego...at…” You trailed off not wanting to discuss the gravesite you had visited. “I love you. I never stopped and I’m sorry I was also so stupid…” Your voice wavered with emotion as you forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I love you, too.” He murmured and shifted his hand between yours to lace your fingers together tightly. “There was never a pair of idiots better suited for each other.”

You laughed tearfully, wiping at your eyes with the cuff of your sleeve and shaking your head.

“Never.” You agreed. “Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?” You asked, looking around the anonymous, off-white room filled with the typical hospital equipment. It could have been located anywhere in the world, for how similar it looked to every hospital room you had ever had the misfortune to see.

“Yeah…come here…” He crooked the index and middle fingers of his free hand, gesturing you closer.

You immediately leaned over the railing of his bed, shifting closer.

“What is it?” You asked, wanting to be of assistance.

“A kiss.” He grinned, slipping his fingers around the back of your neck as soon as you were within his reach.

“Oh.” You murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his warm, whisky-colored gaze, before assisting him in closing the distance.

It was tentative at first, a gentle brush of mouths that sent a familiar rush of warmth through your veins and had your breath shuddering against his damp lips. His breath caught audibly in his throat before he tugged you closer, pulling your lips to his firmly as you pressed your still-entwined hands into the mattress beside his head to brace yourself. The fingers of your other hand delved greedily into his longer-than-usual curls, relishing in their silky feel as he rumbled happily against your lips.

Finding your synchronized rhythm after all these years, both of your lips parted to deepen the kiss. You sighed deeply at the familiar taste that was unmistakably his, mixed with the salty tang of tears as one or both of you were crying. A deliberate knock and polite cough had you tensing before pulling back quickly, untangling your fingers from his hair carefully before stepping back to allow what looked like a team of doctors to enter the room.

You slipped out into the hall when they initiated their exam, wanting to give him his full privacy, and sank into one of the chairs near the desk where the unpleasant sergeant offered you a glare before turning back to his work. The output of energy, and ebb of adrenaline, caught up to you then and you found your eyelids sinking heavily as you rested your chin on your palm, elbow balanced on the arm rest, dozing until one of the medical team gently shook you awake.

“Sorry. Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is asking for you…” She apologized as you blinked up at her sleepily, but you smiled quickly and shook your head, heading back into the room again, noting that Bradley’s countenance was more serious than when you had parted.

An empty food tray sat on the bedside table – you had apparently slept through meal delivery.

“Everything ok?” You asked quietly, carrying one of the empty chairs over to sit beside his bed as he looked you over, sighing softly. You noticed the team had dropped the side rail on his bed and left it lowered, making him more easily accessible to you.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation of where I’ve been. Of what happened.”

“Bradley, you owe me absolutely nothing. You can share with me whatever you wish whenever you are ready but there is no obligation involved.” You frowned, reaching for his hand, which he squeezed softly as he stroked his beard thoughtfully with the other.

“Let me start with the fact that I am not unscathed? I…You went to my grave, you all but said as much.” You nodded guiltily in reply, and he squeezed your hand against reassuringly. “I left a piece of myself behind in that plane, after the missile hit, before I could eject.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking him over as he looked pretty whole to you, until your eyes trailed lower, and you noticed only one peak at the end of the bed when there ought to be two. Your eyes widened as your heart rate picked up, but you did your best to take a steady breath and assume a neutral expression before turning back to him.

“Your leg?” You asked gently.

“My left foot.” He confirmed with a nod, voice tight. “I assume that’s what they found and used as confirmation of my death. There’s not an awful lot left usually when we burn in. That’s what is probably buried in San Diego.”

“I’m so sorry, Bradley…” You shifted to stand, sliding your arms around him in a careful hug, pressing your cheek against the top of his hair as he buried his face in your neck.

You held him reassuringly, hands pressing into his back soothingly as his arms wrapped around your waist, clinging to you until his heavy breaths evened out and he leaned back to look up at you.

“They have to do more surgery, to properly fit a prosthetic. A sympathetic family found me, cauterized it, kept me alive, moved me around to other like-minded people until they could smuggle me to Kuwait…It’s never stopped hurting…” He whispered and you frowned softly, kissing his forehead.

“Oh Bradley…” You whispered in reply, arms tightening around him protectively, wishing you could bear just a little of his burden, ease even a fraction of his pain.

He lay his head against your chest, and you lifted a hand to stroke his hair soothingly.

“They want me to get stronger and then they’ll send me state side for surgery and rehab…they’re thinking Walter Reed…”

You hummed thoughtfully, trying not to take too much pleasure in the thought of him being in Maryland.

“It’s a good hospital.”

“Close to you.”

“I’d come as much as possible. You’d be welcome to come stay with me if you need a place.” You murmured, noting how his torso was growing heavier against you. “Why don’t we lay you down, hmmm?” You suggested softly and he nodded, complying sleepily.

You rearranged his blankets carefully to tuck him in, settling into the chair at his bedside and taking his hand, watching as he fought with his heavy eyelids.

“Shhh rest, Bradley, it’s ok.”

“Stay…?” He asked, eyes flashing open one last time to lock onto yours pleadingly.

“Of course I’ll stay.” You nodded and squeezed his hand, smiling as he nodded back, surrendering to his exhaustion and falling asleep.

You were not far behind, laying your head on the bed beside your clasped hands, letting sleep overtake you as well.

You awoke to the feel of warm, calloused fingertips stroking down your jaw, your lips curling up at the corners at the pleasant sensation before you forced your eyes open in the low light of the hospital room. Any sense of time had abandoned you somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, but it was still dark outside the windows and a glance around the room revealed a sleeping Captain Mitchell, slumped back in the other chair near the door.

Looking back to Bradley, who’s touch had roused you, he mouthed a soft sorry, to which you shook your head in reply.

“You ok?” You whispered.

“Hungry.” He confessed and you smirked a little.

“I’ll find something ok?”

He nodded gratefully and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips before easing your stiff body from its less-than-ergonomic position in your chair. You both shared a wide-eyed look at the crack your neck emitted, glancing over at Maverick, who thankfully slept through it all. You stopped by the nursing station, grateful to find a friendly lieutenant on duty who directed you to a vending machine with sandwiches at the end of the hall.

Suddenly inspired to hunger of your own, you procured a few from the machine that thankfully accepted American currency before returning to the room to partake in your feast with Bradley. Once you’d cleared away the wrappers and the crumbs, he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“You said you wrote me a reply…did you save a copy?”

You swallowed and eyed him for a moment, wondering how it was possible for someone to know you so very well. While you had written the letter to him on compostable paper, hoping to leave as little an environmental footprint as possible, a part of you had needed to keep of a record of your words to him. Thus, you had taken a photo of your handwritten letter and saved it on your phone.

You pulled the device out of your pocket, ignoring the knowing grin on his features as you pulled it up, squinting a little at the intrusive brightness before holding it out for him to read in the dimly lit silence.

He raised his eyes as he came to the end, the glow of the screen causing the unshed tears in his eyes to shimmer. You leaned up to kiss his temple before whispering.

“I’d like to amend the ending…. You’re home now, thanks to every power in the universe, and whatever comes next, we get to figure it out together.”

He licked his lips slowly, setting your phone down on the worn flannel, before cupping your face to guide your mouth to meet his warmly.

When at last, nearly a year later, the President delivered his rewritten speech and secured the blue ribbon of the Medal of Honor around Lieutenant Commander Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw’s neck, you watched from the front row with a raised mark on your cheek. Bradley fondly referred to it as your ‘rescue mission battle scar’ and pressed his lips to it with delightful frequency, letting the whiskers of his once again neatly trimmed moustache tickle your cheek.

The seat you occupied was that of his beloved partner, rather than standing in the corner as an anonymous White House staffer. It was the seat that you had always been meant to occupy and one that would never willingly vacate again.

Top Gun Masterlist

@tgm-all4one

[make-me-imagine]

Valentines Day 2023 Masterlist

Here are the links to everything I wrote for Valentines Day 2023.

Note: All fics are Gender Neutral Reader Inserts.

Leverage:

Eliot Spencer x Reader: 'My First Valentine' (fluff/drabble)

Eliot Spencer x Reader: 'What You Want the Most' (fluff/romance)

Harry Wilson x Reader: 'Flowers and Confessions' (fluff/cute)

Top Gun:

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader: 'In Your Dreams' (angst/fluff)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader: 'Love Is Stored in Post-It Notes' (fluff)

Top Gun Valentines Scenario Game

MCU:

Peter Maximoff x Reader: 'Disheveled Confession' (fluff/cute)

Stephen Strange x Reader: 'Only You' (romance/cute)

Scott Summers x Reader: 'More Than Anything' (angst/fluff)

Shang-Chi x Reader: 'My Person' (fluff/romance)

Stargate:

John Sheppard x Reader: 'A New Experience' (cute/fluff)

9-1-1:

Lou Ransone x Reader: 'Valentines Day Morning' (domestic fluff/drabble)

The Gentlemen:

Raymond Smith x Reader: 'Exactly My Type' (romantic/cute)

Star Trek SNW:

Spock x Reader: 'Two Hearts, Eight Words' (romance/cute)

Enola Holmes:

Sherlock Holmes x Reader: 'Cheers To Us' (romantic/cute)

[the-whispers-of-death]

What's this, OC x Reader content that hasn't been asked for? More Kali Content? Gasp. Anyways, this is Kali x Ranch Hand!Reader (gender-neutral reader.)

Kali took a left turn, driving away from the city of Austin, Texas and into a more rural part that laid just on the outskirts of the city. He had come home from a grueling mission, having left his parents to find purpose in the private military company called The Shadow Company.

This would be the first time he had seen them since he joined the Shadow Company eight months ago. He could only hope they were doing well.

He drove to his parents' ranch where he lived with them, because they were in their sixties and needed help around the ranch. He even took care of their bills of up keeping the ranch, hiring ranch hands to help, paid for their electric and water bills. The only thing his parents paid for was for their groceries, hence why he rarely had time for his own paperwork since he was always trying to pay the bills on time even when he was overseas.

It was the middle of the night so when his truck stopped in front of the gates of the ranch, he didn't expect anyone to open them for him. He got out of his truck, leaving the door open and the engine running because the area all around him was his parents' property.

Kali unlocked the padlock that kept the gates closed and grunted from exertion as he pushed the gates opened. Once the gates were open, he got back in his truck and drove inside the field before getting out again to close the gates and lock them back up.

All of this took several minutes and by the time he parked in front of his parents' house, he was slightly out of breath. He was in desperate need of sleep, stumbling out of his truck for the third time that night and barely remembering to take his duffel bag. He made his way onto the porch that had been lovingly built for his mother to sit outside to watch his father work out on the ranch back when they quit their jobs as doctors and became ranchers when Kali enlisted in the Marine Corps at eighteen.

Kali took out his key to the house and paused before placing the key in his left, non-dominant, hand and turned the doorknob with his right hand. He sighed when the door opened, his parents having not locked it for the night.

He told his parents time and time again to lock their front door, that being secluded from everyone besides a neighbor that was several miles away to the left didn't mean that someone couldn't stumble onto the property and rob them, but his words fell on deaf ears. His father told him that despite not being able to work on the field that much, he still could shoot intruders with his trusty hunting rifle.

It did not soothe Kali's worries.

Shoving the key back into his pocket, he very quietly crept inside the house, careful not to wake his parents up. He gently closed the front door behind him, taking off his shoes upon entry and placing them in the shoe rack. He then quietly made his way to his bedroom, opening and closing the door softly.

As soon as he was inside the bedroom, he barely managed to take off his gear before dropping onto his bed and passing out. His sleep was dreamless and he woke up in the early morning to the rooster being his alarm clock.

Kali rolled out of bed, brushed his teeth, showered, and changed into appropriate ranch clothes. He exchanged his half-black-half-blue mask and black neck gaiter for a black cowboy hat and cowboy boots, getting right back into the habit of going out into the field to work.

Once he was properly clothed, he went to the kitchen and ate a hearty breakfast before heading outside. His parents were still sleeping, something that was normal to Kali ever since they aged into their sixties.

He stepped outside and saw the trucks of the ranch hands he had hired, all of them here bright and early. He had no opinion of the ranch hands, besides the fact that they were very good at their jobs and were a tremendous help.

"Mr. Kumar, you're home," a smooth, almost lyrical voice called out to him as he made his way to the chicken coop where a pair of ranch hands were checking on the hens and if they were laying eggs.

It was you, the most experienced ranch hand of the bunch. He admired your work ethic, you both being what was classified as a workhorse since you both did a tremendous amount of work and were always busy. He found himself drawn to you, especially since you did the most when he was away on missions.

He found himself smiling down at you, his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "What did I tell you all about calling me by my name? Mr. Kumar is my father, so please call me Ashok. But yes, I got home last night at an ungodly hour," he said, his tone light-hearted as he chuckled.

You didn't smile back at him, but he was used to that. You rarely showed much emotion on your face. "I'm glad you made it home safely, Ashok," you replied, most likely out of politeness than sincerity.

Or at least that was what Kali thought.

"How are the hens doing?" he asked, clearing his throat and drawing everyone's attention back to the chicken coop. He walked inside, you and the other ranch hand flanking him. "I trust there are no health issues with them?"

"No issues, Mr. Ku—Ashok," you said, stumbling over your words to catch yourself as you fell back on the habit of calling him by his last name. You merely moved on from the mistake, continuing, "All of the hens are healthy and producing a good amount of eggs, more than enough to be sold to the markets and grocery stores. The rooster's doing well too, as I'm sure you heard him when dawn broke."

Kali nodded in approval, still smiling at you with that bright smile. "I'm good. I'm sure you all have been working efficiently on the ranch, but is there anything I can do to help with today? It's a huge amount of property, I know, so maybe there were some tasks that need someone to take care of since there's not that many of you?" he asked, turning to you.

You delegated all of the tasks when he wasn't home, hence why he looked to you. But that was as far as your authority went, because Kali's parents did own this ranch after all.

The other ranch hand spoke up, "{Name} delegated all of the tasks to us already, and it seems like everything that needs to be taken care of has someone who can do it. Besides the paperwork, of course."

Kali's smile faltered briefly before he kept it up on his face. "Of course," he said.

He was a bit disappointed, having wanted to relax by doing ranch work. He was most at peace when he was out in the field, watching over the herd of cows and sheep or fixing parts of the fence that separated his parents' property from the neighbor's. Getting his hands dirty was something familiar and he found solace in it.

But he supposed paperwork was an important part of ranching too. Not every part of ranching was enjoying Mother Nature, there were bills to pay, livestock to sell and trade. Every job had a downside.

He did hate paperwork though, military or ranch paperwork, it didn't quite matter. It was tedious and he much preferred working outside. He got too many paper cuts when he sat in the office in his parents' house to do paperwork.

However, he didn't feel comfortable putting it on his parents' shoulders even though they still owned the ranch. He had resolved himself to lighten their burden and that included doing the dreaded paperwork.

"Right, okay. Well, I'll come out and check on you all every hour or so, make sure it's all running smoothly," Kali said, forcing himself to head towards the house."Maybe I'll help mend a fence today when you're all busy."

He went inside the house and after saying good morning to his parents, he sat in the office. And outside the window of said office, he could see you taking out the cows so they could graze and roam.

It was a shame, he had been looking forward to being around you more.

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