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wittyminds · 1 year

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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."

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rainbow-universe · 2 years

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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!

#hello december playlist challenge #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #gender neutral reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #my writing #writings by oak

87 notes · View notes

starboundpix · 8 months

Text

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

#fnaf x reader #dca x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #my writing #(love is) a seed that grows #misc: pix writes #type: game #game: five nights at freddy's #ch: moon #ch: sun

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staplegrapes · 1 year

Text

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.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #character x reader #reader insert #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you

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daddy-cake · 8 months

Text

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.

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say-al0e · 2 years

Text

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

#rooster x reader #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #v's fics

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auroracalisto · 2 years

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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.

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lilithslittleworld · 4 months

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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

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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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

#*masterlist #masterlist #*admin #elvis presley fanfiction #that last one is more i mean technically it doesn't necessarily have a pairing so where do i put it?

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blurredcolour · 1 year

Text

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

#tgm all4one #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #tw angst #tw death

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callsigndragon · 2 years

Text

Better than me | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Air Force!Pilot!reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Jake and his ego hurt his s/o

Word count: 1.4

Warnings: jake needing an ego check, talking about past missions, reader gets mad, someone gets slapped, alcohol, drunk hangman... and fluff at the end

A/N: Not my best work, i didn't really know how to fit the request here, cause anon wanted hangman embarassing reader in front of the squad and then fluffity fluff but... well anon, i hope you like it!

Tag list: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74

(if you want to be in the 'All TGM' tag list, send me an ask!)

Being a member of the Air Force had never been easy. You’ve faced criticism during your whole career. Look, it’s not your fault that basic training is easier for your military branch than for the rest. That didn’t make the job any easier.

You’ve been in Afghanistan several times, the last time trying to evacuate as many people as possible. It was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.

Right now, you’re enjoying a few days off with your boyfriend Jake and his friends. You traveled all the way to North Island to be with him and his squad, who you haven’t actually met before in person, only through FaceTime or videos that Jake sent you.

“So, Y/n, Jake didn’t tell us your call sign!” says Coyote handing you a beer. “He’s really mysterious about it.”

“Told ya, if you want to know, ask them. Not me” Jake says, sitting next to you after his turn at pool. He had enough drinks already, and you think it’s time for you to go home, but you and the squad are having such a good time that you don’t want to take away from them this bonding time after all they’ve been through these past weeks.

“It’s Falcon. Yes, like the Marvel superhero.”

“And why Falcon?” this time it is Phoenix who asks.

“I dressed as him for Halloween” you shrug.

“Bullshit. They do BASE jumping in their free time”

“What? Oh my god, Hangman, you’re dating a badass” Fanboy is already impressed by your abilities. You smile at him, he’s one of your favorite members of the Dagger squad.

“Well, you have to look for a bit of action outside the job when working in the Air Force, you know?” Jake says, making every member of his squad stop moving and look at him, with widened eyes.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, leaving your beer at the bar. “How so?”

“C’mon, babe. You fly people to the target and then go back to base. It’s like being a commercial pilot” he says, laughing. You hope he’s joking because it’s not funny to disrespect your job like that.

“All right, I think we should get ready to leave. Why don’t we go to that dinner we went to last week?” Payback tries to stop the argument when he sees the look in your eyes, but you’re not going to stay quiet. Not today. And it doesn’t matter how drunk he is.

“Do you remember I went to Afghanistan and rescued thousands of people?” you cross your arms, standing in front of him.

“You know a drone could have done that same job?” he retorts.

“Says the man whose only air-to-air kill was a museum piece from the Korean War. Well, at least you have new material to use now, with that fifth-gen fighter” You can be mad at him right now, but you have to admit that he is a good pilot. Nothing can take that away from him. Even him being an asshole right now.

“Well, at least I’ll still have a job in three years. What about you, honey? Will you still have a job?”

The slap can be heard in every corner of the room. Penny, who had been serving drinks, turns around to find the source, and it’s a bit flabbergasted to see it was you who has slapped a man. And your man, to be more precise.

“Guys, it’s been an honor to meet you at last, but I think it’s time for me to go” you pull the keys of Jake’s house out of your pocket and throw them to the owner. “I’m staying at a hotel tonight”

“Babe, it was a joke. C’mon, don’t be like that!” Rooster stops Hangman from chasing after you. “Bradshaw, let me go”

“Not tonight, buddy. You sober up, and you talk to them tomorrow”

It takes Jake a few hours to find you the next day, but he finally finds your car parked outside one of the hotels next to the base. You are not answering his calls, not even his messages and he’s worried he had fucked up for good the most important thing in his life: your relationship.

See, he’s not going to lie. He is a fucking idiot and an asshole when he gets drunk. That’s why, usually, Rooster stops him from drinking too much, just so they don’t get into trouble for his behavior. He is always trying to prove that he is better than the rest of the world when he has a few more drinks than he should. He remembers how he said a month ago, how Maverick needed an ego check.

Now he’s absolutely and completely certain that the one who needs it, it’s himself.

He walks into the hotel, just in time to see you returning the keys to your room. You haven’t seen him yet, but he can see enough of your face to know that he has hurt you more than you would ever confess. He can see the heartbreak written all over your face.

There was only one thing that hurt you more than anything, and it was people discrediting your job. And Hangman doesn’t know if he can make it up to you.

When you turn around, you’re ready to just walk past him and leave him there, but then you realize what he’s wearing, and you think it’s the most ridiculous thing ever.

“Where did you get that from?” you ask, signaling to his blue t-shirt. It has ‘Proud Air Force Boyfriend’ written in white letters.

“I bought it a while back, actually. I just didn’t have the chance to wear it before” he says.

“Do you mean it or is it just because you don’t want me to be mad anymore?”

He raises a finger, and then pulls a cap from the back pocket of his jeans. It has your call sign embroidered in the front, with the Air Force logo. “I was planning on wearing this after you came back from your last mission, but I was deployed and well…”

You sigh, knowing that you won’t be able to stay mad at him for much longer. “Jake, what you said… it really hurt”

“I know, babe, I know. I was drunk, and I tried to make your job seem less important than mine because I think you’re better than me. Better than any of us. How many times have you been deployed? And you had your fair share of terrible experiences. But you wake up every morning, you smile, and you go to save the world, one day more at a time. And I… I take down aircrafts from the Korean War”

“It was from the Cold War, babe” you correct him.

“See? I hurt your feelings and here you are trying to make me feel better. I don’t deserve you”

“No, you probably don’t. But I love you, and you are out in public with an air force supporting t-shirt in a hotel that is surrounded by relatives of naval aviators. And they’re all looking at you”

Jake looks at the people in the lobby, but he couldn’t care less. “Darlin', the only person I want to look at me, it’s you. Let me make it up to you, please” he is practically begging.

“Well, hmmm…. You’re gonna make me a big breakfast”

“You haven’t eaten breakfast yet? Honey have you seen the ho-”

“I’m telling you the things you need to do if you want to get kisses again from me, you sure want to discuss the lack of food in my body right now?”

“Nope. Go on, please”

“Well. Breakfast in bed because I couldn’t sleep last night without you. Then, we’re going to see Pearl Harbor. I’ll fall asleep, and you will cuddle with me all day until I’ve had enough. Then we’ll shower, and you’ll invite me to the best restaurant around here. And I will need many kisses”

He gets close to you, his hands on your hips. “Why Ben Affleck?”

“Cause his face is better than yours” you joke.

“Yet, you want me to kiss you”

“It’s your punishment. Take it or leave it, Lieutenant”

“Sounds like a good punishment, First Lieutenant” he says, and you have to smile. “What?”

“It’s Captain”

“Always trying to be ahead of me” he kisses your forehead, your nose and then your lips.

“Because I’m better than you”

“Of course you are, honey”

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

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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)

#Valentines Day 2023 Masterlist #valentines masterlist #eliot spencer x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #peter maximoff x reader #john sheppard x reader #lou ransone x reader #cavil!sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #raymond smith x reader #stephen strange x reader #spock x reader #scott summers x reader #shang-chi x reader #shang chi x reader

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thatdammchickennugget · 11 months

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Requesting Guidelines

Currently [ x ] open // [ ] closed

❀ Rules

❀ I will write character x reader, character x character and character x original character

❀ I especially love au's and I'm up for pretty much anything weird that gives me the ability to go wild and creative, so even if you think your idea might be a little out there, don't be nervous about sending it in

❀ don’t request smut for underage characters, also don't request fics for real life people, I will only write about characters

❀ I usually write from a female reader perspective but will write a gender neutral or male reader if requested

❀ I’m willing to write about characters that aren’t on the list below if I like the request and feel like I know the character well enough

❀ please try to be at least a little bit descriptive, and by that I mean literally everything that's more than just "enzo smut"

❀ unfortunately it can take me a while to get to your requests, but I'll do my best at getting them done as quickly as possible. but if I don't have any ideas for your request at all I might not write it. I'm trying to keep writing a fun thing, so I'm not going to force myself to write something I don't vibe with

❀ if you're unsure about your request and don't want to send it in as an ask because you might want to discuss it first, my dm's are always open for you!

❀ Harry Potter

➵ Marauders Era - Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, Mary Macdonald ➵ Golden Trio Era - Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger ➵ Hogwarts Legacy Era - Garreth Weasley, Poppy Sweeting

❀ Other Fandoms

➵ Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, Leo Valdez, Clarisse La Rue, Luke Castellan, Sally Jackson, Connor Stoll ➵ Top Gun Maverick - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Robert “Bob” Floyd, Natasha “Phoenix” Tracer ➵ The Summer I Turned Pretty - Steven Conklin, Cam Cameron ➵ Avatar The Last Airbender - Sokka, Katara, Suki, Zuko, Toph ➵ Baldur's Gate 3 - Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, Dammon ➵ Julie And The Phantoms - Luke, Alex, Reggie, Julie, Flynn, Willie ➵ Tom Holland Characters - Peter Parker, Todd Hewitt ➵ Dylan O'Brien Characters - Stiles Stilinski, Joel Dawson, Stuart

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staplegrapes · 2 years

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Don’t You Dare (Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader)

Description: You just don’t feel like you matter in the grand scheme of things. (No use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.6K

TW: Discussions of feeling invisible, worthlessness and not feeling good enough. This one gets pretty deep into these ideas of feeling worthless so fair warning there.

A/N: This relationship is written so it can be read as platonic or romantic. It is implied the reader and Bradley are close, but up for personal interpretation. Also, it's implied that the reader works with Rooster so it implies they're also a Naval aviator, but it doesn't go into any details.

Inspired by the song "Run Away to Mars" by TALK

No lyrics from the song are used, just the feeling of it.

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

You didn't feel like your existence meant that much. You knew how it sounded. You swear it’s not that bad. It’s not that you hated yourself or anything. You just didn’t feel like you mattered in the grand scheme of things.

It was like being permanently assigned as a secondary character in everyone else’s life. People hung out with you because you were there, not because they actually wanted to. People knew your name, and maybe three to five facts about your life and that seemed to be the extent to how deep people got with you. The people you opened up to didn't always reciprocate, so you weren't sure if they knew you that well either. You weren't anyone's first call, not even a last resort, more like an afterthought.

Society has been conditioned to tell you that you mattered. And while you understood why they did so, it never felt genuine. Still, you truly felt like if you were to disappear from everyone's memory no one would really be better or worse off. You just didn't know how to apply your personality to life in a way that seemed to make waves in any sort.

The crew was at the Hard Deck. It was a Friday night, probably a busy one. You wouldn't know, you're not there. But the scene wasn't hard to picture. You're sure by now Hangman has beat Coyote in darts three times over, Bob is on his fourth glass of water and Rooster had pulled the plug on the jukebox and they were singing the night away. You sat on your couch wrapped up in a blanket trying your best to forget everything around you as you watched one of your comfort shows.

When you were alone in your apartment you felt you ceased existing to outside world, not that you felt it was of much worth when you were out walking in the outside world. You hadn't done anything all night but still somehow you felt drained. Everything was taking from you and nothing you could seem to find would reenergize you. You were just at this static state of mindlessness.

This always turned into an internalized battle with yourself. You became much harsher to yourself when you were the only one watching. Anything and everything about yourself you blamed for being the reason you weren’t noticed, even if it was an average human trait that was generally normal and accepted. That’s another thing, you feel like flaws are only accepted in those who society deemed as main characters. If someone not so important had a flaw it instantly made them less than.

A knock on your door shook you from your spiraling thoughts.

You contemplate not answering. It just doesn't feel like it was going to matter. Yet, something in your subconscious decided for you and you start walking towards the door. You’re not quite sure what you were expecting, but Rooster with an expectant look on his face and his hands on his hips was not it.

"Hey," he says with a sigh, you see a troubled look on his face.

Why does he look mad, what did you screw up now?

"Hi." You greet unceremoniously. There's time for a breath or two before either one of you continue the dialogue.

"You gonna let me in?" He asks raising his eyebrow as if he was testing your abilities as a host or just another opportunity to judge you.

You step back, opening up the doorway for him to enter. You see him look around a bit as you closed the door behind him. He turns back to you just close enough to make the height difference between you two quite evident.

"Missed you tonight at the Hard Deck." He says plainly, no real emotion in the statement. You shrug.

"Yeah, sorry, I wasn't feeling it."

He nods as he goes to walk into in your kitchen. You'd be mad that he just barges into your home, but it's Rooster. He has the confidence to do pretty much anything, well, within reason, he wasn't Hangman.

“You want water or something?” You ask as you follow him.

“Water would be great.” He smiles. You nod as you head to the cabinet.

"It's kinda early for you to be heading home?” You joked as you grabbed a glass.

"Yeah, well for lack of a better term, I wasn't feeling it either."

You hum in agreement as you fill the glass and hand it to him. He goes to take a sip when he slides a question into the inch of air between his mouth and the glass.

"So, what's been up with you?" You pick up in his tone he doesn’t mean that sentence in the casual catch-up way. You might have mistaken that if you weren’t looking at him, but you were, and you knew what he meant.

"What do you mean?" You ask, crossing your arms and leaning back on the counter across from him. As he pulls back from the glass he looks down into it and back to you.

"You've been more distant recently." He says in a much softer tone than before, almost a cautious one.

"Not intentionally. I swear." You say, but you're not quite sure if it's the truth.

This time its Rooster who hums as he takes another drink of his water, keeping unbroken eye contact with you the entire time. It makes you feel a bit exposed in a way you can't explain.

“I was thought it was just me, but now tonight Phoenix was thinking I know what’s going on with you. She was asking about you tonight.” He says, continuing his cautious tone.

“Oh,” you say. You're not quite sure how to process or fathom the idea of them discussing you without you even being there.

"Hey, where'd you go?" He asks, shaking you from your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out there for a minute."

"Oh, sorry." You started doing that more as you became less concerned with your outward mannerisms as you began to accept this idea that you had faded into the background.

"Talk to me. What's going on?" He asks, less cautious. Still, you shake your head. You don't even let yourself consider the idea of Rooster offering you a hand out of the dark hole you've dug yourself into.

"It's nothing. It's nothing you can fix. It's just me." You sigh, dropping your gaze to the floor.

"I'm sure it isn't just you." He adds, you hear the sound of his glass of water being set down on the counter.

"I just get in my head sometimes Roos. Only one who causes that is me."

"You're human. You can't help it sometimes. Everyone gets into their head a little too deep at some point or another. I have plenty of times."

He expects a response, but you can't seem to give him one or look up at him.

"So what's your head telling you?" he continues.

"It's stupid."

"It's obviously not if its got you this out of sorts."

You still shake your head.

"I ain't leaving till I get an answer I believe."

The two of you stand there in the unsettling silence. You feel you've told him too much. On the other hand, he feels like you haven't told him enough. Finally, he's had enough.

"Alright, changing my statement. I'm not leaving you until I get an answer I believe. Let's go." He gives you no time before grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the door.

"Rooster, what the hell?"

"Put your shoes on. We're going out."

"Rooster, I can't. Not like this." You shrug looking down to your disheveled state.

"You look fine. Besides, it doesn't matter."

You sigh, slipping on a pair of shoes at your door. He lets you grab your keys and lock up your house before heading out.

He jogs ahead to open your door for you. You mumble a thanks as you duck into his Bronco.

For the most part the drive is silent. As you notice the lights of Miramar fade into the distance you realize where Bradley is taking you. Just as you expected, he backs onto an empty part of the beach. Nothing out here except the ocean meeting the sand under a night sky.

Rooster hops out of the truck and you follow suit. Rounding the truck to the back, he lowers the tailgate. Patting the tailgate, he silently tells you to sit, so you do.

The last time you sat on his tailgate, the whole crew was out here as the sunset on an afternoon of dogfight football. You admit, you felt appreciated that day. For a while you could forget this mentality of yours and live in the idea that you were an important part of this group.

You barely register he disappeared for a moment until he returns to the truck bed with two blankets him his hand.

"If you need it." You nod in response. The silence resumes. The night looks peaceful, but you can't feel it.

"Is it a little quieter out here?"

"Huh?"

"Your head, is it quieter out here?"

"Not really."

“Once you say it, it’ll be quiet. Y’know that right?”

“I know.” You admit.

It’s silent for a while. All you hear is the crashing of the waves on the beach and an occasional gust of wind. You see the blurred outline of the moon from behind the light cloud cover hovering over the ocean. Off to one side you see the twinkling lights of the city. Off to the other side you see the shore fade into the darkness.

You face directly out the back to face the ocean. Bradley however is leaning on the inside of the truck wall, facing the other side and the darkness down the shore. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but this position kept you in his line of sight.

Rooster was at a loss of what to do. You still seemed dead set on keeping whatever this was to yourself. Externally you seemed like you would hold strong to keeping it in.

But in reality, inside, you were breaking. You were so tired of feeling like this. The constant feeling of unimportance was nothing but draining and drowning. Feeling this alone all the time, you hated it, but you didn't know what to do about it, until now. After the hours of his persistence, you finally see the metaphorical hand Rooster is holding out to you. You're not sure if it's gonna work, but you don't see any other chances coming by for awhile.

“I feel like a background character.” You whisper.

The silence grows as your words fade into the waves lapping at the shore.

"What?" he says in a breath.

"See? It's stupid." you sigh but his head snaps up in response with his hands held up to stop you.

"No, don't say that. I just don't understand."

"If I were to disappear from the background, no one would notice."

“Everyone is a background character in someone’s life.”

“That’s it. There’s no show where I matter.”

“Don’t be talking like that.” He says quickly yet clearly, making it clear he now understands what you mean.

“Like what? The truth?” you snap loudly, tired of these societal standards everyone hides behind, acting like they actually care.

"Don't you even dare talking like that." He says with a hint of aggression sitting up straighter to make sure you hear him. This isn't a societal standard, this is something that is important to him.

And in that moment, you feel incredibly stupid. Of course, this means something to him. It's Rooster, besides being an exceptional naval aviator, a naturally gifted pianist and charismatic individual, he's deeply passionate and loyal to a fault. Those societal standards are something he's taken to heart, it's something his mom likely taught him. If there was one thing you knew about his childhood is that he was raised right.

“I can’t help it, Rooster.” you whisper, tears threatening to fall.

There’s that silence again. You feel him shift closer to where he’s side by side with you.

"Honey, how long have you've been feeling like this?"

You shrug, not missing the rare use of a pet name. "I mean always, but it's gotten worse these past 6 months."

"You're so wrong." He says quickly, but he then pauses, taking a breath before dropping his head. "I know you can’t help it, I know, but you are so much more than an extra. I'm so sorry if I've been part of why you feel like that."

"No, no, seriously, it isn't anything anyone is doing." He nods, but you hear him sound a disapproving grunt underneath his breath before speaking again.

"I'm not sure you or I know that for sure. I think you should talk to someone, like a professional."

You nod. "Yeah, I've just been kinda nervous to think about trying that." He sighs looking back over the ocean.

"I promise you it's not so bad. At first it's kinda intimidating. But it helps. It's helped me a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah, plenty of times. As a kid it helped me out with my dad. After high school it helped me realize I had a future when the Naval Academy was out of the picture and then again when my mom passed."

"Oh, that's good." he nods as he shifts closer to you, a hand resting on the tailgate behind your back, so he leans closer into you.

“Tomorrow lets get out and do something, if you're feeling up to it. I'll ask Phoenix to see if everyone else wants to join."

"It's whatever. I'm sure people have plans."

"Maybe, can still ask though." He said casually. What he didn't tell you is he planned to call everyone individually to relay the importance of this without revealing too much. They were gonna show up for you, hell or high water. You had been there for them, it was time for them to be there for you.

His other hand not supporting himself has made its way into your lap intertwined with one of your hands. You let your head drop to his shoulder. Now you could finally feel the peace of the night. You could hear the quiet when there was less bottled up in your head. The silence was now peaceful.

He pulls back from you, while still holding onto you.

“Tonight, is for us getting you back to you."

"I think I'm getting there."

"Good." He smiles.

You two are silent again for a while, but it's a comfortable silence. You're content leaning into his shoulder and feeling his arm behind you.

The gentle breeze starts to blow harder and colder as it gets later. You can't help the shiver that invades your bones. You feel Bradley tense up in response. He leans back to grab the blanket but he stops midway.

"Wanna head out?"

You nod. He slips off the tailgate offering you a hand as you slide off as well. You get situated in the Bronco as he turns on the engine. You expect him to pull away, but he doesn't.

"My place or yours?" He says, casually, but you don't take it as such.

"Bradley Bradshaw!" He laughs at your reaction.

"Not like that. I'm staying with you tonight, whether it's at my place or yours. You're not going to be alone and respectfully, that's not up for negotiation."

You nod with a small smile. Still a gentleman, despite not giving you room to argue.

"Can it be yours? I've spent too much cooped up in mine."

"Sure, we'll swing by yours so you can grab your stuff."

"You're too good to me Bradshaw."

"If that were the case, I don't see how we would be here."

You shurg. "You're here now."

"I'm not going anywhere." He sighs, reaching over and grabbing your hand as he pulls away from beach.

And he kept that promise.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

A/N: Hey there, I know this was a pretty dark one for my standards if you’re used to my normal range of fics. I promise you, that you matter so much! If you're feeling like this I encourage you to reach out to a professional and remember everything can change so quickly for the better. That's one of the cool things about life. I started writing this when I was in a dark place, but as I finish it things have gone really well for me recently. You got this.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#rooster top gun #character x reader #reader insert #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster tgm #tgm #top gun fanfic #top gun

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