#sad bradley bradshaw hour

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Can't help but think of the missed potential of Bradley’s grief over Carole in TGM. I mean, if they really wanted Mav’s sacrifice of not telling Bradley to properly hit home, then show us how much she meant to him as his mum. Show Bradley as the tragic character he is and how he's had to crawl through losing his dad at a young age and then his mum too (I hc that she died when he was in his teens).

This would also be a great time to, maybe, i don't know (/s), tell us when and how she died? If it was cancer, like many people hc, then wouldn't it be a nice bridge after Ice's funeral between Mav and Bradley before they reconcile. Like, Bradley helps Mav up at the beach, then he apologises after he's made Mav’s wingman and they reconcile on the escape.

But think, whether Bradley was close to Ice or not, someone else close to Mav dying of cancer, and Carole also dying of cancer would give them some common ground. Some shared pain to remind them of someone they both loved and who loved them?

[tragicallybradshaw]

thinking about the scene in top gun when mav throws goose's dog tags into the water from the edge of the carrier and sobbing because bradley would love to have those :(

[wearerandomlyyours]

Heartbreak hour where I imagine the type of questions people ask Rooster when they find out he was orphaned young, and the answers he gave when he was still angry at Mav, so after the mission you get a conversation like....

Rooster: *Playing piano*

Phoenix: Damn, I still can't believe he learned how to play on his own.

Maverick: *took lessons so he could teach his baby Goose his father's favorite song* ......yeah, it's amazing.

[pollyna]

They, he and Ice and sometimes Slider too, used to spend hours watching Bradley play around their little garden. He was five, then ten, fifteen and crying over some girl and then some body and then he was eighteen. Then they stopped spending all that time outside because Bradley wasn't around anymore and Maverick was back on a jet far far away to not deal with all the bullshit but still find the way to make peace with what he did.

It's not a garden but a beach, Bradley passed his twentieth birthday by a decade and only Slider is there with him. Some days they laugh about the Daggers and somedays they leave before Penny can send their drink out because, sometimes, Bradley says or moves his head in a certain way and both of them can see Goose and Ice in him so much it's like having them there. Mav knows, and Slider does too, that Bradley is more than just them and sometimes it does good to remember about it and sometimes it only helps as a reminder of what, who, they lost.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley both know you need to have a conversation and define your relationship. Bradley is excited to get home to you and do just that... and then maybe take you to bed for the rest of the night. But when Meredith crashes the scene, and someone gets hurt, he has to change his plans.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

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After Bradley dropped Noah off early at daycare on Friday morning, he had an hour until he needed to be on base. He wanted to get to you as soon as he could, but he stopped to get your coffee on the way. 

It was funny, because the baristas really did know him by this point, and they knew what his regular order was. He was probably the only person in the history of the coffee shop who asked to write the names on the cups himself. So he scrawled Princess and peasant on the two cups and handed the marker back to the barista, making sure to leave a tip. 

He knew where you lived, because it was very close to Penny's house, and he wondered if you were going to let him inside your place. He parked behind your car and made his way up to the front door of the small cottage that needed a lot of work. It was smaller than his house, which had more than enough room for three people. Bradley juggled both coffee cups into one hand and knocked.

And when you answered the door in your scrubs, fresh from the shower, he knew he was gaping at you. But you were no better as your eyes went a little wide at the sight of him in his flight suit with the sleeves tied around his waist. 

"Morning, Princess," he crooned softly, and you were smiling up at him as he handed you your coffee. "Give me your keys, and I'll move Noah's carseat into your car."

"You want to come in first?" you asked, and Bradley slipped willingly inside your living space. Everything had a dreamlike quality; he hadn't quite been able to imagine what your place would be like. When he was your age, he had owned nothing and had no one. Strangely enough, you seemed similar to how he had been, but it didn't come with a sense of sadness. You seemed independent and smart, and as you slipped your hand into his and pulled him further inside, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"I would give you a tour, but there's nothing really to see," you told him, shrugging as you looked between your small living room and your small kitchen. 

"You gonna show me your secret Skittles stash?" he asked, earning a laugh. 

"Absolutely not," you replied. "You seem like the type who would have no self control if you knew the location. You'd eat them all in one sitting."

"That's not true," he promised, running his thumb along the back of your hand. "I'd save you half and you know it." He loved that smug smile on your lips, couldn't get enough, really. Then he looked around a little more, inhaling your sweet scent. He eyed a hoodie with Greek letters hanging on one of the hooks next to the door. "Were you in a sorority?" he asked, running his fingers along the fabric. 

With a soft laugh, you shook your head. "Uh, no. That belongs to my ex, Greyson. I keep forgetting to take it over to his apartment and drop it off."

Bradley eyed your pretty face and glossy lips. He knew all about college guys and cute girls, and he didn't want you going anywhere near Greyson's place anymore. "I could drop it off for you, Princess."

You released his hand and let your palm come to rest against his abs while you casually sipped your coffee. "You jealous, Daddy?"

Bradley hauled you against his body with a soft yelp, setting his coffee down on the table followed by yours. "Why don't you show me your bedroom?"

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and kissed him softly. "Won't you be late for work?"

"I don't care," he growled, letting his hands slide down your body until he was grabbing your ass and rubbing against you through the thin fabric of your scrubs. You were making soft sounds as you kissed him, and Bradley knew nothing except the desire to take care of you in every way.

"Okay, Daddy." You were leading him up the stairs, holding his hand and looking back at him as you led him into a room with a double bed and a dresser. Everything was tidy and it smelled so fucking good, Bradley was getting harder my the second. 

You looked at him expectantly as he started to untie your pants. Fuck. He was thinking about calling out of work and spending the day in your bed, showing you everything he could and would love to do to you. 

He licked his lips. "If we make this quick, I don't want you to think it's because I didn't want to spend hours with my face and cock buried inside you."

"Oh," you whimpered before you bit your lip. Bradley slipped his hand inside your underwear. You were soaking wet already, and so sensitive that you shook before him. 

He kissed your lips as he let his fingers glide through your silky wetness. Your hands were exploring his shoulders through his undershirt, and Bradley couldn't remember wanting anyone like this before. 

"Turn around, baby," he whispered, and you did just as you were told, bending over and bracing your hands on your bed. When he knelt behind you and yanked your pants and underwear down to your feet, he moaned at the gorgeous view he was treated to. 

"You okay?" you asked, since he had stopped touching you except to stroke your thighs with his thumbs. Bradley responded by nudging your legs a little further apart and kissing your pussy until his lips and mustache were all wet. You smelled and tasted so good. He wanted to smell like you for the rest of the day. You were whimpering softly, stuttering on his name, and as Bradley stood and unzipped his flight suit a few more inches, he basked in the genuinely needy noises you made.

You met his eyes over his shoulder, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek as he lined himself up with your tight pussy. "I just want to make you feel so good, Princess," he promised, pushing himself deep inside you with a groan. "You're too perfect for anything else."

"Bradley," you whined as he planted his hands next to yours on the bed. He covered your body with his larger one, wanting to protect you and make you feel like you belonged with him even while he fucked you. Maybe especially when he was fucking you.

"Princess," he whispered, kissing along the back of your neck and burying his nose in your hair. The slapping of his thighs against yours was filling the room, and Bradley had to bite his lip against the sensation of how damn tight you felt. He could cum now, he was certain of that, but he wanted to make everything good for you. "I want you to cum for me."

You took Bradley's right hand in yours and kissed his fingertips before guiding his hand so he was touching your clit. He groaned next to your ear and you turned to kiss the corner of his lips. "Touch me?" 

Bradley sucked on your neck while he spread you open and circled your clit with his middle finger. You were panting, exposing more of your neck for him to nibble on as you bucked back into his thrusts. But that first squeeze had him seeing stars as you keened. And then you got louder and louder until you were whining Daddy at full volume, back arched as you came for him.

When he finished a moment later, he let his hand drift up your body over your perfect skin until he was stroking you gently through your bra. "I can't wait to see you later tonight, Princess."

"Mmm," you sighed as he withdrew from your body. Then you stood and pulled your clothing back into place, and Bradley knew he would be thinking about your cum soaked underwear until he saw you later and got to do it all over again. 

"I think you earned your very own bag of Skittles," you whispered, running your hands along his chest and up to his shoulders. 

Bradley took your chin between his thumb and fingers. "I'm curious to know what you're going to give me after I spread you out on my bed later and really take my time."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you until you whimpered. 

"Shit, I need to go, Princess. Let me put the car seat in your car."

You took his hand and led him back downstairs, grabbing a bag of Skittles from a kitchen drawer and handing it to him while he looked at Greyson's hoodie again. "Thanks, baby. You know... I meant it. I can drop that off for you if you want me to." Simply the idea of letting your twenty three year old ex boyfriend know that you were currently getting fucked by him had Bradley grinning.

You pressed your lips together and tucked the Skittles into the pocket of Bradley's flight suit before saying, "That sounds like something a boyfriend would do."

He sucked in a breath, because you were fucking right. Flipping your ex the proverbial bird was boyfriend behavior, and he wanted to do it anyway. As it was, he already wanted you with him and Noah all the time. He knew he needed to talk to you about defining what was going on, because the app was off his phone now, and he'd been wanting you for weeks.

The expectant look in your eyes had him kissing your lips, and you had the audacity to lick his still damp mustache and moan. Would he get in trouble with Maverick if he stayed longer and had you again? But then his phone rang, and he discreetly silenced it as soon as he saw that it was Meredith.

"You and I are going to have a conversation later. Okay, Princess? Now where is your car key?"

--------------------------------

Before you left for class, you bundled up Greyson's hoodie and shoved it into a shopping bag. You'd drop it by his place one day next week, so there was no sense in leaving it hanging around with your other things. 

Just seeing Noah's carseat in your backseat had you smiling. And that smile lasted all day while you were in class and filling out information for your clinical research work. You loved being the one who Bradley knew he could trust with his son. You loved spending time with Noah and making snacks for him. You had the All About the Letter N! coloring book tucked in your bag along with your textbooks, and after you took Noah to the park, you and he could color. And then Bradley would come home. And you and he could talk. And then hopefully you would be willingly spreading yourself out on his bed for the rest of the night.

With a soft moan, you pulled up the address of Noah's daycare in your phone's GPS and headed toward your car. It was only twenty minutes away. He would probably be hungry when you got there, which was fine, because you had some ants on logs in a cooler in your trunk just for him.

But the look on Noah's face when you were the one who arrived to pick him up made you smile so much, it hurt your face. "Did you have fun today?" you asked him as he climbed up into your arms and hugged you.

"Yeah! Did you bring a coloring book?"

"I sure did, Noah. And I brought you a snack. Do you want to go to the park and have your snack on a picnic table?"

As he nodded against your shoulder, you decided to just head right for the park in Bradley's neighborhood. You could change out of your scrubs later when you took Noah home for dinner. You brought something cute to change into, but Bradley wouldn't be home until closer to Noah's bedtime anyway. So you parked near the picnic tables, not too far from the playground equipment, and took the cooler out of your trunk before scooping Noah out of his carseat.

"Ready?" you asked, taking his tiny hand in yours as you slipped your sunglasses into place. "Let's have a snack first, and then we can go on the swings."

The playground was not crowded, but the kids that were there were running around, laughing and screaming with parents and grandparents. The picnic tables were empty, and you helped Noah climb up onto one of the benches and kissed his head.

"Have some ants," you told him, lining several carrots up on a napkin for him. You crunched into one as you settled onto the bench beside him. He ate the rest of them, leaving a mess of peanut butter on his face and hands, but you had wipes inside the cooler. 

"Were they good?" you asked, laughing as he looked inside the cooler for more as you wiped his cheek clean. "You want more?"

"Yes," he replied, turning toward you with wide eyes, looking so much like his dad that you had to laugh. You could probably cook nonstop for the two of them, and they would just keep eating. 

You kissed his forehead and scooped him up from the bench. You tucked your trash inside the cooler along with the ice pack and led him to the swings. "I'll make you more after dinner if you're still hungry."

"Promise?"

"Of course, I promise!" you replied. The breeze was picking up a bit, but it was still a beautiful day. And as you pushed him higher and higher at his request, you smiled at the dad next to you as he chased a toddler around. You briefly thought about what you might be able to cook at Bradley's house, then you sighed realizing you should have grabbed his credit card for groceries just in case. 

You inadvertently made eye contact with a woman who was standing alone near the far end of the swings before looking away. She looked familiar, although you were also sure you'd never seen her before. After a few seconds, you could tell out of the corner of your eye that she hadn't moved, so you glanced her way again. She was looking intently at Noah, and you could feel goosebumps tingle along the back of your neck. 

The woman took out her phone, and you tried to slow the swing down and block her view of Noah, but then you felt apprehensive about turning your back toward her. The swings were too far away from your car. The picnic tables were blocking your path. 

"Let's go down the slide," you told Noah quickly, scooping him out of the swing as he complained and asked you to push him more. 

When you turned back to check, the woman had started to walk along the swings, closer to the slide as you helped Noah climb up. Suddenly you felt unsafe. The park was nearly empty. That guy with the toddler was gone now. Your heart rate picked up.   

You pushed Noah down the slide and then ran to help catch him at the bottom. And now the woman was creeping even closer with her phone out.  

"Again!" he chanted. With a deep breath, you walked him back to the ladder, helped him climb, and then made a quick decision. You had your phone and keys in your pocket, and you could leave the cooler behind. When you scooped him up at the bottom of the slide, you wrapped your arms around him and made a quick dash toward your car. 

It was a good distance away, and as soon as you started moving, you saw her moving too. She was rushing toward you now, but you had a clear shot at the parking lot. Your heart was thudding in your chest, and the feeling of panic that washed over you had you squeezing Noah closer. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking concerned as you ran as fast as you could with him in your arms. 

"It's okay," you gasped, glancing back to see that she was still right there. And now she was calling out to you. Ignoring what she was saying, you unlocked your car as you approached, nearly tripping on the curb as you flung your back door open. Your sunglasses slipped off, and you stepped on them, crunching them under your sneaker.

"Wait!" the woman called out. "It's okay!"

You shoved Noah a little roughly into his carseat, tightening the straps with one hand as you glanced over your shoulder and slammed the back door shut.

"Shit!" she called out, also nearly tripping over the curb. "I won't hurt him!" 

You needed to get in the car, but as you reached for your door, you tripped and landed on the pavement, and the searing pain that shot through your arm had you gasping. But you didn't have time to check yourself as this insane woman closed in on you.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" you screamed, realizing your pepper spray was sitting in your cup holder. You opened your door and climbed in, locking the doors and cranking the engine to life just as she approached Noah's window and cupped her hands to look inside your car. "You psycho!" you cried out, slamming your car into drive and peeling out of the parking lot.

You drove in the opposite direction of Bradley's house in case she tried to follow, but you didn't see anyone else pull out of the parking lot. When you glanced in your mirror at Noah, he looked like he was going to cry. 

"It's okay!" you tried to reassure him, but your own voice was shaking. "Let's sing." After you cleared your throat a few times, you led him in the dinosaur song that you and he made up last month, and that seemed to cheer him up and calm him down. 

You drove miles out of your way before you started to head back to Bradley's house. When you finally pulled into his driveway, you noticed that your right arm was scraped up and dripping blood, but at least Noah was safe. And as you carried him inside, firmly locking the door and leaning against it, you realized who that must have been.

----------------------------

Bradley was exhausted. He and Nat had been working with the simulation for hours. It was late, and he was starving, and he decided to skip the locker room and head right home. He wanted to see you and Noah, wanted to talk to you. If he didn't at least try to figure out what was happening with you, he was going to lose his mind. 

He wanted you. Noah already loved you. Of course, you'd be crazy to actually want to date Bradley, but he figured he should at least try. Test those waters with you. He couldn't ever remember being nervous that a woman might just want him around to hook up with. Although he supposed he could just keep doing that with you, if that's all you really wanted.

Bradley's stomach was growling as he tied his sleeves around his waist again. The sun had already set, and as he climbed into the Bronco, he scrolled through missed calls from Meredith and texted you. 

Be home soon.

You didn't respond, but his house wasn't too far from base, and you were probably playing with Noah. Maybe you'd be wearing your crown when he got back. Maybe you had made dinner. Maybe you'd kiss him when he got there. He found himself driving a little faster, smiling when your car in his driveway came into view.

But as soon as he unlocked the door and strolled into the kitchen, he knew something was wrong. Your back was tense, and you were coloring with your left hand. Noah was in his pajamas, and when he looked at Bradley his eyes lit up. But Bradley's gaze fell to your arm, and he rushed over to you. 

"What happened?" he asked, gently taking you by the wrist and examining you. "Tell me."

You looked at him, lips parted, but you remained silent for a beat. "I fell."

"You fell?" he asked, wondering why your voice sounded so strange.You looked tired and worried, but Noah was okay. And your arm looked like it would heal eventually. "Baby, tell me what happened." He was kneeling on the floor next to your seat, and you nodded slightly as he kissed your cheek.

"After Noah gets in bed," you whispered. "I'll tell you."

"Sure," Bradley replied, still worried as he scooped his son up and took him to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he got him tucked in bed, Bradley kissed his forehead. "Go right to sleep, bub. I love you."

Noah looked at him with wide eyes as he turned on the nightlight. Bradley rubbed his shoulder as his eyes finally started to drift closed, and then he was dashing back out to the kitchen. You were washing dishes with one good arm, and Bradley reached around you to take the plate out of your hand and turn the faucet off. 

"Hey, don't worry about that, Princess," he whispered, turning you gently to face him. "What happened?"

You finally met his eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, but you didn't return the kiss. Bradley pulled away and examined your arm again. He needed to get you cleaned up, get the dirt out of the wound. "Will you talk to me?" he asked.

You cleared your throat and asked, "What does Meredith look like?"

Bradley cocked his head a bit but described his ex to you. The look in your eyes was making him nervous as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I have a picture of her," he told you, scrolling through a photo album. "She's in the first picture I ever took of Noah. So I saved it." When Bradley held his phone out for you, he saw you swallow hard before meeting his eyes again.

"I took Noah to the park," you whispered. "After I picked him up from daycare. And there was a woman there. She kept looking at Noah. Looked like she was trying to take his picture."

"Shit," Bradley gasped, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded. "She made me nervous. Really upset me. So I grabbed Noah and ran for my car. After I got Noah in, I tripped and fell when I was trying to get the driver's door open. I guess I fucked up my arm pretty good. But I sped out of the parking lot away from her. Away from Meredith."

You had protected Noah. From his own mother. What the hell was Meredith doing?

Bradley pushed your hair back away from your face and examined your eyes. You looked upset but not like you were in shock. He let his fingers drift down to your neck and found your pulse was slightly elevated but not erratic. "I'm okay," you told him softly. "Promise."

He kissed your forehead, inhaling your scent. "Let me get your arm cleaned up, Princess." 

------------------------

You sat on the edge of Bradley's bathtub as he knelt on the floor and very gently and patiently cleaned your arm. You watched silently as he used tweezers to remove bits of asphalt from your skin before guiding you back so he could rinse your arm.

"You would make a good nurse," you muttered, and he glanced up at you. 

"Well, that means a lot coming from you," he replied, kissing your fingers before he guided your arm back under the water. "I'm sure you would have done a better job if it wasn't your dominant arm."

You just shrugged as he carefully dried you off and wrapped your arm up in gauze. Neither of you were smiling. He stood and gently helped you to your feet as well, and you buried your face into his warm neck and chest, trying to hold back tears. Because you knew without a doubt that the conversation you and Bradley were supposed to have tonight wouldn't be happening now.��

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as his mustache brushed your cheek. "I need to call Meredith."

You nodded, inhaling the smell of sweat and jet fuel from his skin. You liked to think he had skipped the showers so he could rush home to see you. You liked to think he missed you as much as he missed Noah when you weren't around. You wanted to hold onto that.

"I understand," you promised, letting your fingers settle on his abs for a beat before you turned to leave the bathroom. You felt like crying as you sat on the couch and tried to clumsily put your shoes on. But Bradley helped you, looking up at you with a serious expression.

"Thank you."

"For what?" you asked. All you had managed to do was get hurt and turn into an emotional mess over knowing Meredith had been the one to scare you at the park. You felt like an idiot.

"Thank you for protecting Noah, Princess," he replied, rubbing soft circles in your calves through your scrubs. "You don't know what that means to me." 

It was hard to believe that earlier this morning, you and he had been fucking in your bedroom. You leaned forward to kiss him, and he reached up to pull you gently to the floor onto his lap. Very carefully, Bradley helped you wrap your arms around his neck, and he kissed you for a while. 

When he pressed his forehead to yours and stood with you in his arms, you cautiously asked him, "Will you call me?"

"Of course." 

Bradley walked you out to your car and retrieved Noah's carseat. Then he kissed you goodbye as he made you promise to text him when you got home. 

--------------------------

Bradley sat on his couch, running his fingers through his hair. Meredith was apparently hanging around his neighborhood. You got hurt. Noah could have been hurt. Bradley needed to figure this out.

As soon as your text came through, he sighed.

Babysitter: I'm safe at home. I miss you already. You and Noah.

Instead of responding to you like he wanted to, Bradley squared his shoulders and looked at his missed calls. When he tapped on Meredith's name, she answered almost immediately, and Bradley's anger flared inside him.

"Well," she said with a laugh, "I figured I had your attention now. Thank you so much for calling me back, Bradley."

"Meredith," he muttered through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk to you. In person. I'll come by in the morning."

-----------------------

She's going to come by in the morning!! Ahhh! Enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 13

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[littlemessyjessi]

"Holly Jolly at The Hard Deck" : A Holiday Top Gun Maverick Imagine: Robert "Bob" Floyd

…….

Holiday Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Plus Size Reader PS Reader, Reader 

Use of Y/N because (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again) if I focus on a fully thought out character… none of us will get to see the end of this imagine until next December… if we’re lucky.  Though I have supplied a backstory/family for her though because… plot.  And also I can’t help myself, lol.  

Fem Identifying reader because I love women and I do enjoy writing for them.  But also bi-panic so ya know, lol. 

If you're under 18, see yourself out. Love you but no. Auntie loves you but get out and come back when you're legal. Tis no place for children. Love you but bye.

Warnings: Use of booze because well, The Hard Deck.  

…..

…..

…..

Pete Mitchell all but elbowed his way into The Hard Deck. 

An exasperated glance from Bradley told him he wasn’t alone in thinking that it was getting more and more crowded in here every day. 

By the time he’d finally made it to the bar… he was sweating. 

Penny was running around like a madwoman. 

“Uh, Pen? What’s got this place so packed?” 

The woman turned with a tired smile, “You know the new waitress I hired?” 

“Yeah…” Bradley said, taking a seat beside Mav.  “What? She up and quit?” 

“No, no.” Penny laughed, placing their usuals down in front of them. 

“When she said she had previous experience and a business degree, I didn’t realize -”  she said only to be cut off. 

“Coming through!” 

Penny just stepped back out of the way as a very soft, cushiony woman breezed past them. 

“New girl?” Pete asked. 

“Not bad.” Bradley said, head tilting as he checked her out. 

Penny did not hesitate to slap him upside the head. 

“Remember my rules, Bradshaw.  You disrespect a lady and you buy a round for everyone.” she warned.  

“I wasn’t disrespecting!” he said. “I was just admiring… respectfully.” 

“Well, get in line.” Penny chuckled. “And good luck.  I think she already has eyes for someone else.” 

Pete chuckled as the woman all but twirled around Robert “Bob” Floyd… and he turned about thirteen shades of red in her presence. 

She pressed a festive little drink into his hand and a kiss to his cheek. 

“Yeah, you’re out of luck, Bradley.” Pete chuckled before turning his attention back to his own lady. “Looks nice in here, Pen.  I like it.” 

“Thank the new girl.” she shrugged. 

Decorating extensively had never been Penny’s thing.  

She enjoyed it once it was up but she’d never quite found the joy of doing it and often got frustrated when she lacked inspiration. 

And she wasn’t a woman who enjoyed scrolling through Pinterest. 

Y/N, it seemed, was the perfect little addition because she had a natural knack for it. 

Suddenly those boxes in the basement that Penny was certain the local church wouldn’t even take… had transformed the place into Holly Jolly at The Hard Deck. 

“Seems like it’s good for business.” Bradley said. 

“Oh, it’s great for business.  The festive little cocktails she keeps posting on social media has helped too.” she said.  

“Oh, The Hard Deck is on social media now?” Bradley teased knowing damn well that the owner had had a previous aversion to such. 

“Look, I didn’t have to do it and she handles it.” Penny shrugged.  “And I’ll admit.  It’s made a huge difference.   It’s the first time in years where I haven’t had to worry about the future of this place.  Sometimes things get tight around here.  At the risk of sounding churchy, she really has been a blessing.” 

“So why do you sound sad when you say that?” 

The three of them looked up to see the woman of the hour weaving her way back around the bar. 

“I feel like I’ve stolen a talent.” Penny laughed.  “You should be somewhere fancy and elegant.  Not here.” 

Y/N outright snorted, “Penny, I was the one that basically begged you for the job. Remember?  I’ve done the high end stuff.  I don’t like it.  There’s no connection.   And besides, with its connection to the Navy… this place feels more like home than I’ve felt in a long time.” 

“Were you in the Navy?” Pete asked curiously. 

“Not me.” she said.  “Both of my parents were though and two of my siblings as well.  They’ve all passed on now so being around here kinda feels like home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Pete offered. 

Y/N shrugged, “I was the surprise that came much later in their life.  My dad was sixty when I was born.” 

Pete and Bradley’s faces clearly showed their shock as the two women laughed. 

“Yeah, apparently that was my dad’s  reaction when my mom told him as well.” Y/N laughed.  “They passed when I was quite young. “My brother and sister mostly raised me but they were navy too.  I was definitely a military brat.  So I’m more comfortable around you meatheads than I am anyone else at times.” 

The pair of them laughed out of shock. 

“Uh huh.” said Penny knowingly.  “And it has nothing to do with a certain WSO?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about it, Miss Benjamin.” Y/N said. “I sought out this job for my own reasons.  The cutie in the glasses just happened to be a MAJOR unexpected perk.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell him you think he’s cute.” Bradley teased. 

“He knows I think he’s cute.  I told him he was fine as hell the first time I saw him.  I don’t think it’s a secret at this point.” she shrugged. 

“Is this where he keeps sneaking off to every spare second these last couple of weeks?” Pete asked Penny as something seemed to click in his head. 

She tried her best to hide her laughter behind her hand but that alone confirmed where that stealthy little twerp had been. 

Another group of men all but crashed onto the counter top, earning a stern glare from Penny but an amused smirk from Y/N. 

“Fellas, it would seem that my ‘fruity little girlie drinks’ have put you on your ass.  Maybe you should call it a night.” Y/N said reaching out to tap the head of one particular man who was a good head taller than she was. 

“‘m fine. Dun no what yer talk bout.” he slurred. “But I do know that Imma take you home tonight.” 

“Consent is required for my company, bud.” she said. “And I’m not giving it to someone who is completely smashed.  Sorry but I’m smarter than that.” 

“Aw, come on!” he slurred. “Don’ be sucha prude.” 

“Hey, you know the rules.” Penny said. “Disrespect a lady and you buy a round.” 

“Excuse me.” came a voice. 

“What?!” the man slurred, turning around with lumbering movements only for a fist to connect with his jaw so solidly that it knocked him flat on his back. 

Bob stood there with a stern expression on his face. 

“The lady said no.  That’s enough of a reason to leave her alone.” he said before he looked at the others over the rim of his glasses. “Anyone else need to learn that lesson?” 

The pub had quieted the moment the sound of knuckles on jaw bone cut through the air but at the look on the lieutenant’s face… they all quietly went back to what they were doing. 

Y/N stood there, a smile working its way onto her lips and pushing up her chubby cheeks. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Bob turned to ask her but stopped at her smile. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing, Bobby.  You’re just a dream is all.” she said and let loose a dreamy sigh to further prove her point. 

He flushed, red crawling up his neck. 

“Would you two lovebirds just go on, already?” Penny laughed. 

“My shift isn’t over for three hours.” Y/N laughed.  

“Yes but with all this business I’ve had to hire more help and he just walked through the door.” Penny said.  “So you and loverboy go take a walk on the beach before someone else notices you’re pretty and Tiger here breaks a jaw this time.”   

“Bobby?” Y/N questioned.  

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna take a walk on the beach with me?  It’s a little cold but I’m fairly certain you can keep me warm.” 

Bob couldn’t fight his smile when Bradley, and even Pete’s jaw dropped. 

“It would be my honor.” he said, holding out his hand to her. 

She whipped off her apron and handed it to Penny. 

“See you tomorrow.” Penny said. “Use protection.”

“Aw, but that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted. 

Bradley nearly choked to death on his own beer. 

Penny couldn’t stop laughing. 

Pete decided that he liked this new girl. 

And Bob, poor Bob, he fell in love all over again. 

She was a bit like him in a way. 

Sweet at first glance…. but a filthy little beast on the inside. 

Y/N happily took his hand and let him pull her close. 

She was all too willing to let him tuck her into his side and put his arm around her as they stepped out of the pub and into the night air. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you and I are going to have to have a conversation about you and that mouth of yours.  It’s doing all kinds of things to me.” he said, a smirk on his mouth. 

“Oh my mouth could do all sorts of fun things to you, Bobby. If you let me.” she said, a wild little giggle escaping her. 

His jaw ticked, “You’re perfect, you know that?” 

“Well, thank you but I assure you I’m not.”  she said.  “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“Oh, yes and we’re aware of the things you find fun aren’t we?” he said. 

“Look, I have a breeding kink.  I’m on birth control.  I also have a slight ‘I’d like to wear your hands as a necklace kink’. It’s not a big deal.” she said as if she were telling him her guilty pleasure was eating Oreos. 

Bob swallowed and he swallowed hard before turning his face to the sky, “Thank you, God.  Thank you.  I don’t know what I’ve done but this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.  Thanks.  He’s real cute, like real cute.  You really do be doing the best work.  Like he’s exactly my type too.  Down to the glasses and voice and everything! And apparently he’s got a dark side. You know I’m into that stuff sometimes.  I knew you loved me, Jesus. Thanks, homie.”  she said. 

Bob couldn’t help but smile at her, “Come on.  Let’s take that walk on the beach.” 

“Ok, but I’d also like to have some kisses on the beach too if it’s not too much to ask. I’m kinda trying to have a liplock with you here, Bobby.” she said.  

“Definitely not too much to ask.” he said. “And if the lady wants, and with your consent of course… the lady might just get some kisses elsewhere too.” 

“The lady gives her consent! The lady gives her consent!” 

And the two of them dissolved into fits of laughter as she took off running, he chased her and the both of them ended up with the sniffles and sand in places that it most definitely should not be. 

…..

…..

…..

….. 

Hello, loves!  I hope you enjoy this holiday content! 

Hope ya’ll are having a great day! 

Love you. 

— 

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K, Love you, Bye!

[vivwritesfics]

If your taking requests could you write Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

Rooster meeting a girl a few weeks before top gun and hooking up with her a few times (no actual smut)

And later on sees her in top gun and she is the first female pilot he meet (if possible for her callsign to be Chaos) and walking up to her before saying something like "you got me trained like a damn dog"

< based on this tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeaGGyMR/>

I am so sorry I've had this in my inbox for so fucking long, been trying to find a way to... write this, I suppose. I'll be honest, this turned out very different to the request but I couldn't find a way to make it this exact way. I hope you still like it!

They met eyes across The Hard Deck. It was both of their first times at Top Gun, that fundamental last night before they started.

(Now, I must note that this was before Penny bought The Hard Deck. It looked different to what it did when she and Bradley later returned for the uranium mine mission, but it still served the same purpose)

She sipped her drink and he sipped his beer, wiping the foam away from his moustache. Shit, he was hot. She watched as he whispered something to his wingman and approached.

If it had been the eighties, she would have lost that loving feeling. But it wasn't the eighties anymore, and Bradley had long since given up using his dad and Mavericks pickup tricks (gave up when Mav pulled his papers, actually).

He didn't sing to her, did some good old fashioned flirting.

It was a good thing he was cute, she thought with a grin. She held out her hand, signalling that it had worked. "Chaos," she said.

He placed his hand into her own and shook it. "Rooster," he replied, exchanging callsigns.

Chaos and Rooster. Chaos she was indeed. Chaos they both were. Bradley couldn't help but follow her, his hand in hers as she led him out of The Hard Deck. His wingman whooped and hollered at him as he left, following her out to her car.

She had debating staying on base or renting a place of her own for a month. Now that she had Bradley kissing her in the back of her car, she was so glad that she rented a place of her own. The way his lips trailed down her neck, had her moaning so slowed anybody outside of the car could hear.

She got him back to her rented place, got him into her rented bed, and didn't let him leave it until the next morning. He had her awake for most of the night, absolutely railing her (there is very little else I can say about it, but the burn on his moustache was, wow. Her legs had never shaken like that before, but that is a story for another day).

He left before she got up, making his way back to his own place, to his baby (the Ford Bronco).

They'd given each other their callsigns, knew each other by no other name. It shouldn't have been a surprise to Bradley when she walked in and took a seat in front of him.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath.

But there she was, Chaos. Bradley's cheeks were flaming any time the two had to interact.

But Chaos? She didn't stop flirting. And Bradley couldn't stop himself from falling for it. Time and time again he ended up in her bed. Neither much minded it. It didn't become rare to see his Ford Bronco parked outside.

But then they were shipping out. One last night at The Hard Deck, drinking together. It hadn't quite struck to the two that this was their last night being together.

If she wanted anything that night, Bradley was getting it from the bar. They didn't hide any sort of... relationship (or whatever it was) that night, with Bradley kissing her whenever he walked over to pass her the beer he'd gotten to her.

"Damn," said Natasha as she sipped her drink. She was the one watching the clock, watching for the minute it got within twelve hours of them flying. "You've got him trained like a damn dog."

It was a rather sad thought. Not that she had him 'trained like a damn dog', but that soon, they'd bee moving on from Top Gun and leaving each other behind. There was no telling where they'd end up and whether they'd be able to stay in touch.

God, she couldn't tear up here. She concentrated on one spot on the ground, just trying to keep herself from crying.

"Chaos?" Something touched her shoulder, a cold bottle of beer. Bradley held it in front of her face and she gladly took it.

They'd be okay. For this last night, they'd be okay.

[aworldinsideaperson]

Loss-Robert “BOB” Floyd

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x wife!reader

Plot: The worst day of Bob’s life.

Warnings: Critical injuries, medical themes (probably many inaccuracies), Angst, sadness, potential for death, car accident, talk of Carol Bradshaw’s death.

Word Count: 2,967

Robert Floyd had few fears. If asked, he would say the list of things that scared him was rather short. Spiders, talking to new people, and death. Though as he walked in circles around the hospital waiting room he wondered if the only thing that truly terrified him would come to pass.

He couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours since he arrived, a phone call he never expected to receive putting him in auto pilot; one moment standing beside his friends smiling to being in the faux comforting waiting area trying to piece together the words the doctor had uttered.

Accident. Bleeding. Severe. Surgery. Everything we can. Everything we can. Everything. We. Can. Bob Floyds one, true, debilitating fear coming to fruition. The loss of his wife.

He was hardly aware of his surroundings, pacing in a never ending circle, determined to walk a hole into the floor of this hospital. One by one his friends came, calmly laying a hand on his shoulder and taking a seat to watch Bob’s cyclical parade of one.

Phoenix stood from her seat, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he came to a stop. “Bob, why don’t you sit down.”

His head shook violently as the tears came to his eyes and his breath caught as he stuttered quickly. “I- I- I can’t. I can’t shit- sit c- c- cause they’re gonna- gonna be out any- ugh- any second and ugh they’re um- they’re gonna - they’re gonna tell me she’s okay and- and I- I just- I just- I gotta be ready. Cause- Cause if I'm standing they’ll know who to talk to and- and there won’t be any kind of um mix up with- with who to- who to talk to. So I’m gonna stand and I’m gonna wait and- and she’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be fine and- and- and- and-” He could feel his heart beginning to race again and he found it difficult to get a breath as the panic began to rise in his chest once again.

Nat took his hand and squeezed to tightly in hopes of grounding him as she spoke gently. “What if I stand for a little while, you sit, take a breath, and I’ll stand. So they know.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly as he squeezed her hand and moved back to the seat Natasha had vacated.

Bob sat between Bradley and Jake, taking a deep shaking breath, and Natasha stood. She took up post for her backseater, pacing in his place; half an hour she paced before Bradley took her place, then Jake after him. A change of guard every thirty minutes as each of his coworkers, his friends, his family, took turns standing and pacing and waiting. His people being there for him as much if not more than his wife.

As Bob stands, ready to let Maverick have the seat he’s vacating is when news finally comes. Striding toward the naval group was a tall man with a stoic look. “Mister Floyd?” Feeling as though the air has caught in his chest once again Robert Floyd only nods and takes a single step closer.

He tries to keep his head high with confidence as the man before him stands rigid and places his hands behind his back, his face still set without emotion. Bob is sure he’s about to get the worst news of his life, quickly playing out if anyone would be fast enough to stop him from walking into traffic. Then the doctor’s lips start to move.

“My name is Doctor Michaels, would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Robert Floyd looks around the room, filled with some of the people who cared about him most, people who’d kept him alive, people he’d kept alive, his family, and he shook his head as tears began to well up in his eyes.

Nodding, Dr. Michaels continued. “Your wife is on her way out of surgery and into recovery. Making it through the surgery was tough but she did make it. She is by no means out of the woods and I don’t want to give you a false sense of hope but you can come back and stay with her while we monitor her and get a room ready.”

Dr. Michaels began to walk away, leading Bob toward a double door as he continued to speak. “Over the next few hours we can discuss the extent of her injuries and what recovery may look like going forward.” He stopped beside a clear glass wall and Bob averted his eyes, keeping his focus on the doctor as he continued to speak. “She’s not out of the woods but making it through the surgery should be seen as a positive step.” Reaching out and placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder Dr. Michaels attempted a reassuring smile of sorts. Peaking for the first time at his badge he saw a yellow line across the bottom and the word ‘Resident’ in bold script. He wondered if this was the first time he’d had to deliver poor news. If the worst day of Bob’s life was a sort of milestone for the young man before him. “You can head in whenever you’re ready.” Squeezing his shoulder Dr. Michaels turned away and continued to walk down the hall.

Squeezing his eyes tightly Bob breathed deeply and finally turned to the door the opened automatically before him. Stepping inside the room he was greeted to a barely lit room, two nurses moving beside his wife tending to her. Tucking a blanket around her legs, hanging bags from her IV pole, quietly finishing and moving from her bedside. Both nurses gave him a small, sad smile as the left the room.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor. The beeping. The pumping of the ventilator. He wasn’t ready to attach the surrounding sounds with an image. It feels like an eternity before he feels he can look at her. She doesn’t look like herself. Hooked up to machines, bags of medication dripping into her body, bruises and cuts marking every inch of skin he can see. It’s not until he sniffles that he realizes the tears he’s been bottling for hours have finally broken free. He moves slowly across the room, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed. He reaches out to brush his fingers over her hand, fingers then slipping into her palm and drawing patterns on the soft skin. The only place that seems to be free from cuts.

Letting out a breath he trains his eyes on the face of the woman he’s loved for so long. “Hello there Mrs. Floyd, it’s me, Mr. Floyd your husband. I’m here darlin’.

Hours had passed, the sun long since set when a hand was once again placed on his shoulder. His fingers still drawing on the skin of his wife’s palm as he looked up at several staff members shuffling into the room. The woman holding his shoulder spoke gently. “We’re going to transfer her to the ICU now. The process of moving patients can be overwhelming for family so if you’d like to come with me I have some paperwork for you to work on; you can it back to the waiting room and I’ll come get you when she’s all settled?”

Bob shook his head, turning back to look at the woman he loved. “I’d much rather stay.”

“Truthfully Mr. Floyd-” She began before being cut off by Bob.

“It’s Lieutenant. Sorry she’s always on me about correcting that.” He didn’t have a habit of interrupting people. In fact if his mother had been in the room she would have attempted to scold him like he was a little boy again. But his wife was always addamet about correcting his title. Said he worked hard for it and deserved to have it recognized. She’s been so proud of his promotion she’d moaned lieutenant for hours that night.

“Lieutenant Floyd.” She began again. “Truthfully, she’s due for more sedation and there is a probability that she’s come out of it enough to experience some significant pain during the transfer. You need to take care of yourself too and you don’t need to experience that. Please. Let me come get you when we have her all settled.” She reached for the hand he had dangling over the armrest and squeezed it in her own. “I promise you if things take a turn in the time you’re away I will come and get you quicker than a flash.”

Bob looked into her eyes and as his shoulders relaxed he nodded. He squeezed wife’s hand once more, and whispered that he’d be right back as he kissed her forehead. Then he turned from the bed, following the woman out of the room and towards the nurse’s station. With a sad smile she hands him a stack of papers, a clipboard, and a pen.

“Here is that. Take your time with it. There is a lot of information and questions in there so don’t feel like you have to do it all at once.” Turning around she reached for a large opaque bag with the hospital’s name and logo printed on the front and handed it to him. “Here are her belongings. Most of the clothing was unsalvageable but everything is in there except…” Her eyes darted around the space in front of her as she searched for something. “Aha! This is the jewelry she was wearing when she came in, including her wedding ring.” Placing the small bag in his hand and wrapping his fingers around it as she squeezed his hand tightly. A feeling of comfort passed through him as she held it tightly. “I’ll come get you the moment she’s settled.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took her in for a moment. A short woman, early 50’s, graying brown hair and deep brown eyes radiating kindness. She reminded him of his mother and tears came to his eyes again. “Thank you.” His words hardly audible.

“Do you need help finding the waiting room?”

Shaking his head Bob slipped the small bag into his pocket. “No, I remember. Thank you ma’am.” She nodded and Bob turned to walk back to the room where his nightmare started.

Walking back through the double doors he looked up to find the waiting room still half full of faces he knew and a gentle smile came to his face. “What’re you guys still doing here?”

Mickey answered. “We wanted to be here in case either of you needed anything.”

Shaking his head Bob found two empty seats, placing the contents of his arms in one and plopping down heavily into the other. “You didn’t need to do that. It’s been hours.”

Natasha moved to the other side of her friend, draping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for an awkwardly angled hug. “We needed to be here for you. How is she?”

“Not good. Critical condition they say. They’re transferring her to the ICU and they’ll come get me when she’s settled.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees as he closed his eyes and tried to focus his breathing.

“How are you?” Jake asked, today one of the few times he’d been truly kind to Bob.

Looking up at him, his body still resting forward, Bob let out a huff that was reminiscent of a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Leaning back again, eyes trained on the floor as he spun his wedding ring around his finger. “You guys should head home, it’s late and I’m sure we’ll still be here in the morning.”

“At least let us see her. Let her know that we’re here for her and that we’re with you. Whatever either of you need, we’re here.” Maverick insisted.

Looking around the room, the eyes of his friends trained on him as they all nodded in agreement so Bob nodded too. Tears filling his eyes at the love surrounding him. “Thanks guys.”

For 45 minutes the group sat in near silence; startling at every opening door or foot step rushing past. When the woman from earlier came into the room Bob made sure to take note of her name tag. Elizabeth. Social worker. She smiles warmly as she approaches Bob, taking note of the gaggle of people following along as they arrive on the 8th floor. Trekking down the hall in a single file line until they reach room 875. Directly across from the nurse’s station. Bob grabs Nat’s hand and squeezes tightly as the two of them walk into the room, everyone else lining up against the wall to wait.

He can hear Nat suck in a breath but to Bob it’s a better sight than before. The room is a little brighter, there’s a tv playing the Food Network attached to the wall, a wall of windows and they’d turned off the sound of the monitors so at least he wouldn’t have to hear the incessant beeping though the sound of the compressing ventilator still filled the room. His wife is still covered in bruises and cuts, but she looks like she’d been cleaned up. Most of the dried blood was gone, and it looked as though someone had at least attempted to smooth her hair. Sitting in the hard recliner beside her bed, Bob took her hand again and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Let everyone know they can come in when they’re ready.” Bob didn’t move as she left the room and returned with their flock.

For several minutes everyone just stood watching. Watching as her chest moved up and down. Looking at a woman whose face they knew but the could hardly recognize in the current state. Then slowly but surely they stepped up to her bedside one by one.

Fanboy taking her hand and whispering a prayer before kissing it and making a sign of the cross.

Rueben with a crack in his voice assured her that she’d be okay as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Jake had tears welling in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Bob from behind and squeezed him tightly. “I live the closest. Call me if things change.”

Coyote stayed by her feet, his face hard as he gently patted her ankle and quickly left the room.

Maverick kissed her forehead, telling Bob he’d be back in the morning.

The last three in the room, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. The three of them sat silently for some time; Natasha in the chair opposite Bob and Bradley on the couch built into the wall beneath the windows. Eventually as the clock signaled the end of one day and beginning of the next Natasha stood, pressed a kiss to her good friend’s head and turned to Rooster.

“You comin’ Roo?”

“Actually Bob, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay.”

Giving Bradley a sad smile he let his head fall to the side as it shook. “You really don’t have to do that Brad.”

“I want to.” He assured.

Bob nodded and Phoenix said her goodbyes, hugging her backseater extra tightly and then leaving the men alone in the room.

Bob sighed, his hand still gripping tightly to his wife’s. He leaned back in the chair and turned his head to face Rooster. “So, why’d you want to stay?”

Bradley leans back slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “Um, my mom was in the hospital when she died. She had been doing pretty good and we were expecting her to get out soon so no one was there. Well, no one but me. One second we were laughing and talking about going on a road trip before I left for college and the next,” His eyes were now trained on the ground, emotions surfacing that he rarely let others see. “Well the next she was gone.” Standing up, Rooster took the seat on the other side of the bed and took her hand in his. “I was alone when my mom died and I know that Mrs. Floyd here is going to make a full recovery, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, you don’t deserve to be here alone.” Bradley looked over at Bob who’s tears were once again finally spilling over.

“Can I have a few minutes alone with her right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll go find us something to snack on, gotta be a halfway decent vending machine around here.” He stood and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Bob sits in silence at first. His head devoid of thoughts as he watches his wife’s chest move up and down in time with the only sound in the room. He’s holding her hand, remembering the very first time their hands touched all the way back in the 7th grade. How her fingers had brushed against his so softly as they sat side by side in the library. It happened six times before Bobby swallowed his fear and took hold of her hand firmly. Their hands had been so small then but he remembered them fitting like puzzle pieces when their fingers interlocked. Their hands had grown but they always managed to still fit together perfectly.

Bob closed his eyes tight, lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a kiss to the back of it before he looked at his wife’s face and spoke firmly. “I don’t know if you can hear me baby, but if you can, don’t give up on me.”

[chiaraanatra]

Life as We Know It | Part 2

Summary: You and Seresin unexpectedly become the caretakers of Bradley and Natasha's baby girl, Nicole. Can you two put your disdain for one another aside for Nic's sake? Based on the movie "Life as We Know It"

Warnings: Parental/character death, mentions of cops, CPS, & social work, angst, arguments, and swearing. This chapter is a sad one. no use of Y/N. Later chapters will contain mentions of parental death! Always check chapter warnings!

Word Count: 2.7k

AN: Here is part two! Thank you for all the support on part one! I hope you all enjoy!

《 part 1 || part 3 》 《 m.list || ao3 》

You vividly remember that God-forsaken phone call.

The day itself had been good, productive even. When you picked up the phone there was a chipper tone in your voice "Hello?"

The man on the other line had a very no-nonsense tone when he said your name.

Your brow furrowed, "Speaking."

The next words that came out of his mouth caused you to drop the phone. Before you knew it, you were in your car on the way to the police station.

The trek to the station was a blur, it was as if you closed your eyes and once they opened, you were there, walking up to the desk hoping to find some answers. Or, even better, that this was some sick joke. "I'm looking for Officer Kerner."

An older man in a uniform walked up to you, a sorrowful look on his face that told you everything you needed to know. "We found your name and number in her phone under emergency contacts. Now, I know this must be a lot to take in, but we need information about the nearest next of kin. Can you supply those?" His voice held a serious tone, he had a job to do.

"Umm... Both of their parents are gone, but I- I think there are some cousins..." God, this isn't actually happening.

Officer Kerner’s tone softened, "Would you like to sit down, ma'am?"

"No..." that’s when it hit you, "Oh God! They have a baby girl, Nicole Bradshaw... she wasn't... was she- was she in-" You couldn't bring yourself to ask the question.

"No. She was in the care of a babysitter. She's okay. We've placed her with CPS for the night."

"CPS...? Child Protective Services?" There was unmistakable confusion in your voice.

"They handle cases like these." When that didn't seem to ease your confusion, he continued. "Orphaned children."

Your hand covered your mouth as tears streamed down your face. Your best friend and her husband were gone, and their daughter was God knows where with some family probably scared out of her wits...

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the doors opening behind you. When you turned you were met with the sight of Seresin. You could tell by the look on his face that he knew little about what had happened.

"Seresin..." You walked over to him with open arms, tears streaming down your cheeks. You couldn't help but bury your face in his chest. Something was calming about the way he gently stroked your hair.

Seresin was at a loss but felt he needed to be strong for you. He wasn't sure where this feeling was coming from, but he continued to supply your comfort while the officer gave him a similar explanation as to what had occurred.

 After meeting at the police station, the two of you went back to your apartment to make some phone calls to try and figure out what to do next. You had been on the phone for what felt like hours.

Jake walked around your apartment becoming acquainted with your space and making little observations about your life. In the three years since you met, he realizes he's only seen you in the context of gatherings, never really on your own. The more he thought about it, he really didn't know you at all.

You were pacing, practically yelling at the phone, unnerved as to why you couldn't just pick Nic up tonight. When you got off the phone you fell onto the couch, "They know nothing and won't know anything until morning..." You let out a heavy sigh, "Outside of that, their lawyer wants to meet with us at their house to go over their will..."

He walked closer to you, finding himself seated on the arm of the couch next to you. "It's gonna be okay. She’s safe and we’ll know more in the morning." He gave your arm a little squeeze.

A small smile made its way to your face, and you pushed him a little. “You’re being too nice... It's weird…”

Seresin couldn’t help but chuckle a little at your statement. You two were usually bickering and teasing one another constantly but he knew this wasn’t the time. You two had been through too much in the last few hours.

He looked at his watch and then back at you. “You gonna be all right if I head home? I’ll meet you at their house in the morning for the meeting with the lawyer. Hopefully, we can figure out what’s gonna happen.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” You watched as he walked towards your apartment door. Before making his exit, you called out to him, “Thank you Seresin.”

He gave you a nod before making his way out the door.

The next day, neither you nor Seresin had heard anything about Nic. Rather you were both sitting at Nat and Bradley's dining room table talking to their lawyer.

You couldn’t help but note how stereotypical the man looked. Navy suit, round glasses, slicked back salt and pepper hair. Even his voice held a certain air that screamed ‘lawyer.’ If you were being honest, you couldn't even remember the man's name.

He crossed his arms on the table looking at you both. “This is... obviously a rough time for you both and I'm sure you must have questions."

"Yes," you interrupted without a second thought. "What about Nic, what will happen to her?"

"Yes, Nicole. We have already made arrangements for her transfer. The foster family will bring her to CPS. The social worker feels like she will do best adjusting in her own environment. So, she needs to be picked up and brought here." The man shuffled through some of the papers that were strewn across the dining room table.

"Okay." Seresin nodded his head, "Who does that?"

The lawyer looked at you both in surprise, "I'm sorry. Did they not talk to you about their guardianship arrangements...?"

"No." You and Seresin said in unison before looking at each other.

The man rubbed his temples and shook his head a little. "Alright, well. When preparing their will we discussed, in the unlikely event that they should both pass, whom they would like to appoint as Nicole's guardians. They named you. Both of you.

"What?" Your voices once again rang in unison.

"They picked us? Both of us together?" Seresin’s voice was filled with disbelief.

"I know this is probably not how you wanted to start a family."

"There's been a misunderstanding. We are not together or anything.” You tried to wrap your head around what was being said but the pieces weren’t coming together.

“Yeah! They tried to set us up on a blind date years ago and we never even made it to the restaurant," Seresin let out a breathy, nervous laugh.

You rolled your eyes at the reminder of your first encounter with Seresin, “I don't even know if you'd call it a date. He was an absolute dick; he made a booty call right in front of me before we even left for the restaurant.”

"Look," the lawyer interrupted. "I know this is overwhelming. Believe me, I tried to convince them not to go through with it, but they chose you. Now, there are options. Firstly, you can say no. Keep in mind this is a child, not some puppy you got for Christmas that you can take back to the shelter if things don't work out. This is a big commitment."

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Seresin was spiraling.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. "Options. What kind of options?"

"Yes, well there are some cousins. It's possible that one of them would be willing to take guardianship."

Your mind spun with ideas and before you could fully flesh any of them out, you spoke "What if one of us, on our own, chose to honor Nat and Bradley's wishes? Or both of us, hypothetically?"

The lawyer gave you a look that said he hoped your hypothetical was not one you were actually considering based on how he saw the two of you interact. "They named you so it's just a matter of setting up a court hearing to grant you custody, that's about it."

Your mind was spinning, and you couldn't hear a word the man in front of you was saying. Something about finances? Maybe this was a dream and at any moment you would wake up. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut as hard as you could, but when you opened them, the same sight sat before you.

The lawyer continued, "But Iet's not get ahead of ourselves. Okay? Let's just focus on Nicole."

"Yes." You nodded.

"Right." Seresin's voice cracked ever so slightly.

"I suggest the two of you move in here in the interim. Again, the social worker thinks Nicole will do best in her own environment.

"You want us to live together?" Disbelief rang through the voice of the man sitting next to you.

The lawyer shook his head a little, "Yes, just for now. Again for Nicole. Until you both decide what you wanna do.

Nat what have you gotten me into...?

You felt like you were going to pass out or throw up. At the rate you were going, both seemed likely.

The two of you walked up to the desk of CPS. Seresin stood next to you. He looked stoic but you could see something in his eyes. Apprehension? Fear? You weren't sure what it was, but it was slowly breaking his strong facade.

You swallowed thickly before speaking. "Hello, we're here to pick up Nicole Carole Bradshaw?"

The woman at the desk nodded before getting up and rifling through some paperwork. You took a shaky breath and Seresin placed a soft hand on the small of your back. You weren't sure what to make of this softer side of Seresin, but your mind didn't allow you to deviate further into those thoughts. You were here for Nic, for Nat, for Bradley...

The woman placed some papers on the counter. "I need both of you to sign here, here, and here." Once signed she directed you to sit in a small waiting area, "She'll be out shortly."

'Shortly' felt like a lifetime, but, in actuality, it was no more the 5 minutes or so. Seresin was the first to lay eyes on her, patting your shoulder, "There she is."

You both practically ran to meet the social worker who carried an exhausted-looking Nic in her arms, "Hi. sweet girl." Nic was placed in your arms. The little girl yawned, tears coming to her eyes. "Oh, honey... " When Nic started to cry, your heart broke. “I know. I know…" you placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Hey pretty girl, look what I got.” Seresin waved her favorite bunny plush in front of her, but it did little to quell the girl's cries.

She reached out for Seresin, small, grabby hands trying to find comfort in the tall man. You quickly took notice, "You want Uncle Sese? Here..." You passed the little girl over and her wails were quelled. He did have a way of calming her quickly. You looked at the sleepy, teary-eyed girl in his arms. She looked so much like Nat and Bradley. You couldn't help the tears that gathered in your own eyes, "Okay. Umm, we should get her home."

By the time you got back to the house, it was after 9. You had tried to put Nic to bed, but once you set her down, she would start crying. So, there you were, sitting on the living room couch bouncing Nic on your leg as she chewed the ears of her stuffed bunny.

Seresin was pacing about the room. At the rate he was going, you thought he might pace a trench into the rug, “They definitely didn't think this through."

Your mind was in another place, "We need to establish a sleep schedule... That's very important." Nat had always talked about sleep schedules when she was pregnant, but you weren't sure if those ever panned out.

"What?" Seresin looked at you in disbelief. How could you be talking about sleep schedules at a time like this?

His tone brought you out of your thoughts, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He rolled his eyes, "I said they didn't think this through. Did Nat say anything to you? Or Brad?"

"They didn't tell me anything..." You let out a sigh looking down at a still fussy Nic bouncing on your leg.

"I'm sorry, this is not the kind of thing you forget to mention. 'Hey, man! Work’s really been crazy. You see the new Top Gun movie? Oh! And by the way, if I die, I'm gonna leave you with my kid!' Common that's just messed up!"

You couldn’t deny the oddness of them telling you nothing, but you felt a need to defend your friends, "I-I mean Nat was a planner. She always needed to have a plan and I guess we are part of that plan."

"You wanna walk me through this plan? Are we supposed to Iive in this house together, both sleep-deprived and taking care of a child? Sounds like a compelling psych experiment. Assuming you and I can even afford to pay for this place."

"The lawyer said the mortgage is covered..."

Seresin took no time interrupting you, "Yeah, the mortgage is the least of our worries. What about the upkeep? The utilities, the taxes? You have any idea the monthly on a place like this? Brad was a junior partner. I don't make that kind of cash! And what do you do? Listen to people bitch for a living.

You couldn’t help be offended at his assumption of your work, "I'm a partner psychologist at a private practice. I do pretty well...  And I don't listen to people bitch, I help people with real problems."

"Yeah? WeII, raising a child is not the same as listening to adults bitch about their feelings."

"I didn't say it was!"

Seresin threw his arms in the air, "Kids are messy, they bite, they pee on everything. They're basically dogs, except I don't have to worry about a dog Iicking a goddamn electrical socket." Seresin’s hands moved dramatically as he explained himself. "Oh, and pray tell, how does Nic fit in with you meeting a guy, getting married, and having a kid of your own? Have you thought about that? I mean you're cute but a woman with a baby is gonna have a hard time competing for the few guys who don't suck."

You looked up in disbelief, "And what do you know about dating? I'm sure the closest you get to a ‘date’ is your bedroom after picking some girl up at the bar!"

"I know that in the dating world, you wouldn't be considered single. You would be considered complicated, beyond complicated."

"You don't know anything about me."

Seresin didn't skip a beat, "I know that you can't open a childproof drawer."

You were taken aback slightly, "They can be tricky- that's beside the point! Why are you trying so hard to convince me not to help her?"

"I'm thinking about what's best for her."

"No, don't get it twisted. You're thinking about what's best for you!"

"I promise you; she is at the forefront of my mind right now. I'm trying to do what's best for her. And let me tell you, sweetheart, we're not it!"

"They loved Nic more than anything in the entire world. Out of everyone, Seresin, they picked us…" you paused when you noticed Nic starting to squirm in your arms. Her tummy began to make noises and as you pulled her away to get a better look at her, she spit up all over your chest. You tried to take a calming breath looking down at the little girl smiling up at you.

As much as Seresin wanted to laugh, this was the reality of the situation. "Do you honestly think we're what's best for her?" He handed you a towel and grabbed Nic, holding her close to his chest.

《 part 3 》

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Top Gun Taglist: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern @pono-pura-vida @dempy @t-rexs-world @averyhotchner @drxgxnslxyer @daisydark

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𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Nail Polish

Bradley Bradshaw x reader 1k words 

summary: You just did your nails. And freshly painted nails mean not touching anything. 

got the idea for this one because i did do my nails today and then also dyed my hair and so had to shower and while i was undressing had to pull down my pants with like, my fingertips, and my mind was just going “Bradley Bradshaw would NOT let me do this. he would NOT let me do this.” 

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

You grunted as you pinched at your waistband, trying to peel the button of your jeans away and not mess up the fresh paint you’d put on your nails - which was easier said than done. 

You probably should have just showered first. Done your nails afterwards. But you were stressed, alright, so none of this was your fault. The squad was going to be here in less than an hour and you’d only got off work at six, then had to eat, then had to get ready. In the span of like, two hours. 

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead against the mirror above the sink and closed your eyes. You had to get out of these jeans. You’d already spent way too long dwelling on it. 

A soft knock at the door ripped you from your thoughts. You looked up - it stood open (you hadn’t bothered closing it) and Bradley was leaning against the frame with an arm above his head, his knuckles resting on the wood, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Need some help there, baby?”, he asked. You huffed. 

“I should’ve showered first”, you pouted. “I’ve been trying to get my jeans off without ruining my nails for the past five minutes and so far I’ve done this.” 

You gestured at your opened zipper. 

It was kind of sad, really, but he knew you inside out, all the most embarassing parts of you, so you found no reason to blush and hide anything. 

“You could’ve just asked me to do it”, he chuckled, already moving away from the door and closer to you. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat when he came close enough to touch, sinking down on one knee in front of you. You had to swallow at the sight. One of the best navy fighter pilots in the world, down on his knees for you. It still surprised you that out of all the people on this goddamn planet, you’d somehow managed to find him and keep him. 

You’d always joked that you wouldn’t settle for a man unless he worshipped you like a goddess. 

Now, as Bradley kneeled in front of you, his hands so gently on your thighs as he worked the button on your jeans for you, as he hooked his thumbs into your waistband, grazing your skin softly, you weren’t so sure it was a joke anymore. 

It had been at first, yes. But he seemed to have made it his mission in life to treat you like a queen, and you had to say you were not complaining. No one in your place would. 

“You never bother me”, he muttered, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of your leg as he pulled your jeans down ever so carefully. You had to fight the desire to bury your hands in his hair - for the sake of your nails. So instead, you braced your palms on the edge of the sink and watched him work. 

You lifted your feet off the floor when he motioned for you to, shifted your weight when he left a slow trail of kisses up your legs, met his eyes when he stood up and brushed his thumbs below the hem of your shirt. 

“Arms over your head”, he instructed and you followed like some senseless robot, “I’ll be careful with your nails.” 

He pulled your shirt up, slowly exposing your skin to the cool air of the bathroom, sliding it up your arms - then grabbing for your right wrist, keeping it steady as he slipped it over your hand, not catching any of your nails even once, and doing the same for your left. 

Bare in just underwear before him, maybe you should have felt indecent - embarrassed, uncomfortable, naked - but you didn’t. Even under his watchful eye, you never felt any sense of dread, only a pleasant warm haze spreading from your chest through the rest of your body. He was smiling, dropping your shirt and putting his hands to your waist instead, pulling you to him until you were pressed against him, arms crossing behind his neck as if in reflex. 

“You’re beautiful”, he muttered, and you could feel his breath on your lips. “I’m so lucky.” 

“You’re lucky?”, you chuckled. “You? Bradshaw, do you know how amazing you are? I mean-”

You were ready to ramble on about just how great he was for hours on end (you’d already proven you could do that before, when he’d said something bad about himself once and you’d set him down at the kitchen table and presented a 167 arguments-long list of why he was the absolute best) but he cut you off with a kiss, the words dying on your lips.

You nothing short of melted into him, his body so warm and comfortable and simply perfect around you, fingers snaking up to thread through the hair at the back of his head - 

He pulled back. 

There was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed for your wrists, pulling your arms back and settling them on his chest instead. 

“Careful”, he murmured. “Don’t want to ruin your nail polish.” 

And then he was leaning in again and you forgot that you’d wanted to say “Fuck the nail polish”. 

You could only think that yes, this was the perfect example of Bradley Bradshaw, ever the gentleman. 

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 8 - Salt and The Sea

📜Everyone has been on a Bob kick lately (I think), so this is coming right when it should! Let's see how Grace and Bob feel about all this. Shall we? 👀

‼️ - +18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Original Female Character (s), Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Bob Floyd x Original Female Character (This is all in their perspective), Third Person Pov for this one, Angst, mentions of bullying, hurt, overheard fights, preventing a panic attack, frustration, and Grace being sad and done with Bullshit. 

#4.6k

Part 7 | Masterlist | Part 9

Present Day

Sixteen hours.

That's how long Bob's carefully guarded, carefully constructed walls took to crumble after all these years.

There was an inkling the night before as he settled into his tent, a feeling that knocked once or twice from the inside of his chest. It wasn't there when he woke up this morning or during the trek here to the falls.

But the second Grace raced up behind him, everyone watching Veronica climb out of the water, that feeling returned. It seemed no longer content to sit around and wait for Bob to figure out why it had.

Grace grasped his hand, pulling herself to hide behind his body so she could stifle her giggles into the back of his shoulder. Bob couldn't help the few snorts that shook through his body either. However, he pitied Javy, watching as he tried to console his girlfriend, who was stomping her foot like a three-year-old child over the fact that her makeup had been ruined.

The both of them couldn't say it wasn't an unwelcome sight. They knew what Maeve had done, catching her hooking something onto the loop of Veronica's jeans, knowing it was damn well meant for Jake. Though the pair knew better than to act on it, they imagined themselves holding up a fist to the air, like in the Breakfast Club, silently praising the act of Karma on her behalf.

Maybe even quietly counting tallies next to her name in Bob's traveller's journal.

Maeve needed a win. A big win against one of those two. They weren't going to say shit about it. They only wished, deep down, they could have helped.

But when Bradley had taken her by the arm, leading her way, another knock, this time harder, thumped in his chest. Another followed it. And another, until that feeling morphed into what Bob could only describe as a white-hot pain, burning every nerve in the pit of his stomach.

Bob knew what was about to happen.

While there hadn't been much to discuss, Bradley had pulled all the guys together after Maeve went to bed last night to discuss his proposal. Standing in that circle, Bob realized it had been more of a pep talk than anything else.

Everyone already had a predetermined role—some part to play in helping Nat get to the right spot. Bob and Grace merely had to act surprised, with the rest of the group save Jake, Maeve, and Rueben, when they eventually emerged from the bush, a shiny new ring hopefully on her finger.

It was a horrible plan, he had thought then. He knew—more so than most—that involving Jake and Maeve in such an event would only result in disaster. He even had said as much to Grace when he turned in for the night, climbing into their shared tent.

Grace merely highlighted Nat's inconsiderate behaviour regarding her feelings, turning her back to him as she settled into her sleeping bag. The action was so absolute, so final, they said nothing else about it the rest of the night.

But laying awake, staring at Grace's back, Bob couldn't help but think about it. Grace was right. With all the shit Jake and Maeve threw at each other since the moment they had met, Nat would have to be completely stupid not to realize just how fucked up it was not to tell Maeve Jake would be coming on this trip.

It wasn't the first time Grace brought it up, either. Bob knew how his girlfriend felt about Nat, Maeve, the entire group, their inability to stand up for her, and their failure to separate themselves from Nat.

He'd be lying if he hadn't felt the same at one point or another.

But Bob knew why everyone didn't, why he didn't, and why, even to some extent, Jake didn't either, even if he was more verbal about it than anyone else.

From behind the scenes, everyone tried to protect Maeve and themselves from a fallout with Natasha. Not the fallout itself but the aftermath. At that point, he had rolled on his back, trying to figure it all out from the safety and privacy of his tent.

But who was he kidding? There was nothing to figure out.

Nat's scandal was an anvil, and her history and behaviour were hanging over every person in the group by a single thread. Even in the years since it happened, since they had all left school and Grace and Cora joined the group, it still had everyone in a chokehold.

And Maeve was oblivious to it all.

Bob wasn't sure when it happened, but it became an unspoken agreement to protect Maeve from that truth. So they were burying it to keep the peace—at least, everyone but Bradley. Bob couldn't say what was happening inside his friend's head, nor would he ask him.

But nobody would go out of their way to upset the group's 'supposed' hierarchy—not when real friendships and relationships, whether made with Nat's influence or not, were at stake.

Maeve had to deal with the brunt of it, and Bob would regret it every day for the rest of his life.

No kind words or assurances could help the cluster of nerves swimming in Bob's stomach when Grace hooked her arm through his. Leading him to a section of the pond free from tourists, she wanted to avoid the temper tantrum Javy and Rueben, to an extent, would have to deal with. Seeing fish in the water earlier and knowing Bob would get a kick out of trying to identify them, she welcomed the distraction.

But as the pair searched through their books to match the first fish they saw, the first shout vibrated through the air, and Bob felt like he was going to hurl.

There was no mistaking it for what it was. Nat was, for lack of a better word, shitting on Maeve and Jake. It was loud. It was scary. And no matter where anyone went, it was impossible to block out the noise.

They stood there, staring down at the words and diagrams in their books, no longer interested in the fish, scared any movement or action would have them on a chopping block. Though her eyes blurred, Grace was sure there were no more fish to look at anyway, for they, too, would have felt the noise vibrate against the water and would have been scared away.

At least they felt like they were able to.

When it finally fell silent, Grace nervously reached for Bob's hand. She led them away from the water through a tiny gap in the bush, deep into the forest. She didn't dare stop, walking blindly for minutes until she saw a little nook encased by a massive tree.

Its branches hung low, as did those of the surrounding trees. Each covered the space in a vibrant green shade, offering a safe place from the events leading up to this moment. A giant, thick tree root rested above the ground, and Grace pulled Bob down as she sat upon it.

Neither one spoke, nervous to say anything. Birds, the wind and bugs filled this space instead. It could have been hours, though Grace started to play with Bob's fingers only minutes later. He let her slide her fingertips over his skin and grasp around each finger until she smoothly threaded each together. Over and over, she did this, never once altering her pattern or rhythm.

Grace was trying to ground herself. And for Bob, it made everything that much worse.

It had been sixteen hours to the dot since that first knock in his chest. And while Bob had admitted last night and perhaps now that the trip, the excuses, the group dynamic, Nat's behaviour—was hopelessly warped—the truth was he had known for days, months, maybe even years.

He'd simply shoved it all deep down under lock and key, partly for selfish reasons. Sixteen hours was merely all the time it took for that lock to break and for everything to come rushing back to the surface. Because while the person he loved was hurting on behalf of someone else, it was too silent in this forest, even at this distance.

It was the lack of Maeve and Jake tearing each other apart.

"I think something happened to Jake and Maeve," Bob said in a rough voice, finally finding the courage to speak.

Grace's hands froze, not moving an inch. She lifted her head, eyebrows knitting together. Bob didn't meet her gaze, too nervous to look away from their joined hands.

"It's too quiet," he offered softly. "Especially after that."

Grace also dropped her eyes to their hands, biting the inside of her cheek hard. "She'd be tearing into him right now. Forget Nat. Maeve would clear out the whole damn park with a single shout."

Bob nodded absentmindedly, turning his hand to mock Grace's earlier pattern, a silent gesture to let her know he had been paying attention.

"Or she'd be running off to apologize to Nat, and Jake would be seeking us out, tail between his legs."

"Nat should be the one apologizing to her."

Grace's statement was so blunt and sharp that Bob feathered his jaw. And something in that quick movement made a thread in Grace's gentle heart snap.

She tore her hand from Bob's grip and shuffled away from him further down the log. She swallowed hard, refusing to turn back and look at him as she fiddled with a ring on her finger. When Bob went to follow, naturally reaching for her like it was second nature, she shuffled again.

"No," she mumbled lowly, shying away from his touch. Bob frowned, sliding closer once again, softly calling her name. But Grace only pushed herself up from the log, her fists balled and clenched tight. "No!"

She stomped forward a few steps, not wanting to leave the found safety of their little nook. Threading her fingers through her hair, she paced back and forth, trying to count her breath.

"Grace..."

She spun wildly, her eyes narrowing, her lips pressing into a thin line, and her jaw clenching. "Don't 'Grace' me," she gritted out behind her teeth.

Bob dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand, his elbow digging hard into his knee. "Don't..."

"Don't what, exactly?" she seethed. "Don't talk about 'it'?

Bob dug his nails into the denim of his jeans - enough to feel a pinch through the fabric on his thigh.

The laugh Grace let out was bitter, morphing into a harsh shout. "Come on, Bob! Cora and I might have been the last ones to join whatever fucked up friend group this is, but Nat couldn't give two shits about Maeve! And it's this unspoken thing nobody talks about. Why?!"

"Grace..."

"Don't!" she snapped, stomping her foot, making clumps of dirt fly out in all directions. "I don't care about some fucked up unspoken agreement! I care about Maeve! Don't tell me you don't, Robert?!"

Bob finally lifted his head, though he focused on the way they came, not once meeting his girlfriend's angry stare.

"Bob, so help me... If you say no..."

"You know I do!" he rushed out, shaking his head.

"Then why don't you fucking say something?!" she cried out. "Why doesn't anyone say something?! She's suffering, and nobody does anything!"

She didn't even know she was crying hot, angry tears until she felt one fall off her cheek, a slight cool breeze marking a path on her skin.

"I wanted to. I wanted to, so badly, the first time I noticed it. And you told me not to."

Bob did, and he always wondered if Grace resented him for it.

She sighed, wiping the tears from her face. She paced back and forth a little bit, trying to calm herself down. Because Bob didn't deserve her anger, it was unfair of her to even yell at him in the first place.

Instead, she walked up to the tree, pressing her forehead into the bark, once again trying to count her inhales and exhales.

"When Bradley told me about Nat when he was going to school, I thought she was just a phase. Whenever he called to talk to Dad, I just sat back and wondered. I wondered how long it would take and what the reason behind the break between those two would be."

Grace lifted her head, fixing her eyes on a ladybug climbing the trunk. "You could imagine my surprise when he brought her home for spring break."

She placed her hand on the wood, twisting back to look at her boyfriend. "I never told you this, but I didn't like her the second I met her."

Bob lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Why..?"

"Because she thought I was a threat. That I harboured a crush on Bradley, and I would steal him from her," she shrugged.

Bob's eyes shot up his skull. "... I mean, you two grew up together... did you... ever?"

Grace audibly gagged, adding a few choking noises for a dramatic effect. "He's like my brother, Bob. What the hell?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I had to ask."

Grace didn't address the remark when she continued, "She treated me horribly that entire week. She sweet-talked my dad and only was nice to me when he was around. Thank God he saw right through her. The second he left, he said that Carole, Bradley's mom, wouldn't have approved. I agreed."

With a narrowed forehead, Bob's mouth gaped open, bobbing like a fish. "Wait... then why did she..."

"Why did she suddenly start inviting me to stuff? It's cause I was dating you. I was no longer a threat. And she acted like she had never done what she did in the first place."

While Bob might have met Grace through work, he was surprised to learn she had grown up with Bradley. How she acted around Bradley bore no resemblance to a long-lasting, familiar childhood friendship. However, the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense—her closed-off and quiet nature when she was around them.

That the first time they saw each other again, all Bradley could manage was a slight nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Grace only offered causally, "You'd be surprised at all the stuff that doesn't require your input. Sometimes you gotta leave people to do the lame shit they do and watch them fuck it up on their own."

A ball formed in her throat. "But Maeve... when I met Maeve and saw what was happening, my heart broke. And she is the only exception to what I just said."

Bob knew what was coming next. Like a coward, he braced himself hard.

"You told me not to say anything when I first brought it up. But now? I can't keep doing it. Not after what she just did to them. Not after that."

"Grace... Don't..."

"Maeve is drowning, Bob! Drowning!" she shouted angrily, startling a nearby bird on a branch. "And I can't stand it any longer. We need to find her, grab her, and take her home. Take her away from all this. From Nat, from those two bitches... God, if they gaslight anything else, they could practically set the whole fucking forest on fire."

"You don't believe in swearing, Grace," he deadpanned.

"Maybe I do now!" she cried. "I feel guilty. Guilty Bob! Cause I bit my lip like a good girl when Nat just what? Uses her? Ignores her? Disregard her feelings? Like hell, why didn't she try harder to figure the fuck out why Jake and Meave are at each other's throats?! Or how those two bully the fuck out of her?"

"Maeve wouldn't tell us about Jake when we asked."

"And you don't find it strange she wouldn't?" she challenged him. "Out of everyone in the group, she didn't tell a soul. Why? Why didn't she? Why wouldn't she?!"

Grace's heart was hurting, and she knew Bob truly knew why. He had been around them longer than she had, so there must have been a reason he told her not to. There had to be.

"At first, I thought it was something everyone accepted, you know? That everyone was trying to figure out what had happened between her and Jake. I thought tensions were high because of that."

She blew out a shaky breath, Bob not once interrupting her.

"Maybe it was a fucking game they were playing with each other until they finally worked up the courage to admit they like each other enough to get into each other's pants. Cause whatever the cause, Maeve wouldn't be so goddamn hurt if she didn't care!"

Bob closed his eyes, a huff of a laugh escaping his mouth.

"But last to join the group, right? You have to be quiet. Read the room. Get a sense of how to act and what you can say. Cause learning to fit in with new people, you have to pick up these things. The best way to get along with everyone else. Like how Maeve runs the second Jake walks into the room? How she avoids conversations about him if she can help it?"

Grace blew a raspberry out of pure frustration. "Jake was never the real issue, though. Everyone just made it out to be. Everyone should have noticed how Maeve bit her tongue as Nat walked over her opinions. How Nat derails conversations, not just where Maeve is concerned, but practically with everyone to make it about her."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "She got the brunt of all of it, and we just... watched."

Grace finally approached Bob, standing before him, though he didn't lift his head from where it hung low on his shoulders. Had he chosen to look up, he would have noticed how the sun finally peeked through the leaves, beams of light breaking the shade, leaving Grace in their spotlight.

"I meant, she invites us all on this trip so we can watch her get proposed to? And she doesn't bother to tell her that Jake is coming along, too? I mean... how selfish can she get?!"

"Grace, this isn't going to solve..."

"WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?!" she yelled, throwing her hands at the sky. "That ship left the fucking dock ages ago."

Bob's eyes fixed on a leaf stuck under a fallen branch at her words. Grace knew from that reaction alone that she had resonated with something within his kind, caring soul.

"I just... can't... I can't anymore, Bob. If I'm the first to take the leap and break up this group, then good fucking riddance. It needs to be done so we all can get some peace."

She slid to her knees in the dirt in front of him, her hands resting firmly on the sides of his thighs.

"How many years have Nat and Maeve known each other, and not once did Nat realize how hard her supposed best friend had been falling? How could she not recognize that, Bob? And how could she continue to force Jake and Maeve together when Maeve just wanted to escape?"

She reached forward to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet hers. While silent rage resonated within them, Bob knew it wasn't meant for him.

"Why did you tell me to be quiet that first time I brought this up? Why do you still tell me, too?"

Bob gulped, forcing his eyes away. Grace stroked her thumb under his eye, encouraging him on. "I don't know what happened, baby, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and rainbows when we return to the group. Not this time. Just tell me, please."

Bob blew out a shakey breath and shook his head. "Because I wanted you to stay."

"Stay?"

He had contemplated all the reasons, stacking them up brick by brick last night, refusing to acknowledge the leverage Natasha could have used against him. But Bob had damned himself with that one word.

Stay—He wanted Grace to stay. Because if he brought this up, if he told her, there was a chance she wouldn't—at least, there was a possibility.

He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes.

Nat's so-called leverage was kneeling in front of him, begging him to tell her the truth. Her eyes were desperate, so much so that Bob knew he was possibly damned if he did and undoubtedly damned if he did not. Grace had chosen her path, and he would steadfastly follow her wherever she decided to go.

There was no ever questioning that.

Bob reached for her sides, pulling Grace close between his spread legs. She let him, hands landing softly on his biceps before they slid down to his forearms. Bob traded his grip on her jacket to hold her hands, only to trace the same pattern she had a few minutes before.

He braced himself and took several sharp breaths before asking, "Did anyone ever tell you about Natasha's so-called scandal? Back in school?"

Grace cocked an eyebrow. "Only what Maeve's told me. Bradley and I weren't on speaking terms, and he'd never tell Dad if she had one. Though, Maeve didn't even know the complete story."

She let Bob turn her hand over and trace the lines on the palm of her hand. "But she shut me down hard after that. Saying Nat worked to put it behind her and move on, so we all should, too."

Bob scoffed. "Always protecting her."

"Bob?"

Bob hesitated, his gaze flickering away from Grace's expectant eyes. He swallowed hard, the reluctance clear in his tight jaw. Then he closed his eyes, leaning over to whisper in her ear, his voice cautious but a whisper.

Grace's eyes widened, and a gasp slipped through her parted lips at his words. She could hardly breathe as he told her the story. And when he was finished, she tilted so far back on her heels in shock that she almost fell onto her butt.

"Bob! What the hell? After everything I just told you?!"

Bob still hadn't opened his eyes, his head hung low in shame.

"I would have never left you over that! Over complete and utter bullshit? Who do you think I'd believe more? Her or my boyfriend?"

"I didn't know. I didn't want to risk losing you."

"You listen here, Bob Floyd," Grace urged, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her. "I'm in a relationship with you. I love you. I would have never believed her if she had done that to us."

He kissed the inside of Grace's wrist, a deep weight lifting off his chest.

"God, I want to throttle her."

"I think that's why everyone doesn't call her out. Cause they don't want it to happen to them. Or at least, deep down, I never did 'cause I didn't want Maeve or Bradley to be alone with..."

Grace nodded, letting Bob know he did not need to continue explaining.

"We should try to find her, Bob. Let her know we love her and that we'd follow her. I have no idea if anyone else would besides Mickey and Cora. Hell, I'd even offer to leave with her and get drunk on her Aunt's apple cider 'cause this whole damn trip was a bad idea."

Bob huffed a sad laugh. "It is apple picking season. I bet she'd love it if we went with her."

Grace snorted. "You just want free apples so I can make my apple crisp."

With the tension from before gone and the weight of Bob's chest finally disappearing with his confession, he joked comedically, "Ssshh, don't jinx it."

Grace rolled her eyes, letting the moment pass before offering quietly, "Where do you think she is? Maeve?"

Bob regarded her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Considering the lack of voices, Maeve's probably tried to separate herself. Or she made a rash decision and decided to leave alone."

Grace gasped. "What about Jake?"

"Jake ... I bet 50 bucks Jake ran after her regardless."

Her face contorted into one of disgust. "What? Why? Can he not leave her alone for once in his life?"

Bob stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, before extending a hand to Grace. She took it without another word and allowed him to guide her up and off the tree. He revealed yet another truth as he helped her step over the massive root.

"Remember when I went with Bradley and Jake before Maeve hurt her wrist? Jake wanted to show us a fishing spot...?"

Grace winced. When Bob told her what happened, she instantly regretted not being out there with her. Hold up in her tent, she had been working on plans for a museum exhibit. Even if she had to do a little work, she could have at least done it in the company of a friend.

"I found out Bradley's been trying to coach Jake into mending things with Maeve. We might have been giving him some... advice."

Grace froze with her two feet atop the curved piece of wood.

"What!!?" she shrieked, making Bob wince. "Please tell me you weren't the one who encouraged him to keep up the prank thing. Bob, if you told him to scream 'there's a Bear..'."

"It wasn't me! Nor was it Bradley! We just told him to try to talk to her without anyone around. Cause things seem to go to shit when everyone else is there. He just needed to incite her to stay. Make her laugh. Talk to her like a human being!"

"Men," she scoffed, jumping down off the root. "Never go to a group of idiots to do a woman's job."

Bob froze, eyeing her carefully. "Are you calling me an idiot?"

Grace smiled, reaching up to stroke across his cheek. She kissed his lips with a quick peck and leaned back. "Hmm... my idiot, though."

She took several steps back towards the falls when she called out over her shoulder to a befuddled Bob. "You realize if we locked them in a room or trapped them in an elevator, with nobody else around, they'd probably figure it out?"

"How so?" he called back, finally following her.

"Jake obviously wants to fix it. Maeve runs. All you need to do is stop her from running. She'll give in if you provoke her enough, which Jake already does. "

Bob paused, reflecting for a moment. "He doesn't think when it comes to her, does he?"

"Does she?"

When they emerged from the bush, Bob and Grace ran to the first person they saw, hoping at least someone saw either Maeve or Jake. Nobody had. Not until a few minutes later did a couple mention seeing someone bearing her resemblance climbing the waterfall. They also mentioned seeing someone who looked like Nat go up, but she had already come back down.

Grace stared at them in horror. "I'll go get Mickey and Cora," she rushed out quickly, leaving Bob alone to start the trek up the rocky slope. As he did, a million thoughts crossed his mind.

Finding Maeve and Jake tearing each other apart, hoping Mickey and Cora's skills weren't needed. Or the more stupidly optimistic thought - either was trying to find a few moments of peace.

As if.

Or perhaps it was none of those things. Maybe what awaited him above was something far worse than he could ever fathom.

But when he reached the top of the falls, neither Maeve nor Jake were there, and Bob didn't spare the effort to take in the view. Instead, he searched the ground, kneeling when he spied several tracks in the mud.

Two sets, both inherently female, were marked along the river bank in the mud. Bob's eyes followed them until he saw a separate path of them walking back. Then he noticed another pair of tracks, the boot tread clearly belonging to a man. They followed one of the other tracks, veering quickly off into the bushes. They were noticeably disturbed, leaves and branches bent unnaturally, and the longer he followed the underbrush and mud, the more he understood what happened. 

Bob set off, knowing just exactly where he needed to go.

Can I just say I love Bob and Grace?

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[katsu28]

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m a house burglar.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You heard me, sweetheart.” 

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

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

“That’s…disgusting.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Knock yourself out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hurry up and shower then, drama queen.” 

“Ten minutes, tops!” 

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

“Did you use my shampoo?” 

“...no?” 

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

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

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

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

“You better.”

[callsign-venus]

I'll Be Home for Christmas | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Description: With Bradley on deployment, you don't find the Christmas season as cheery as usual. The Daggers make it their mission to help you get into the holiday spirit. Cue intensely competitive gingerbread house decorating competition.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Fluff with a teeny dash of angst. Drinking. That’s pretty much it. Really just self-indulgent, friendship-heavy fluff with lots of pining. Enjoy x

Nat King Cole’s voice dances out of your record player has you put the finishing touches on your cranberry Aperol spritzes. Their cherry warm color makes you smile despite yourself. 

You have always loved Christmas, but this year it hits you like a truck – and not even one with a tree strapped on top. All the little traditions that usually warm your heart with holiday cheer feel just plain sad to do alone. You had a tremendous battle with your artificial tree, which fell on you twice. You were proud of yourself for not crying, and in the end you were able to admire all of its eight feet of glory. Then you remembered you had to light the whole thing. Two hours later, you had undone no less than three tangles of light strands, found out two of them were dead (and all your untangling had been for nothing), and had one big cry fest for yourself. Not even a steaming cup of cocoa made you feel better after that disaster.

Wrapping presents for your friends and family, rewatching all your favorite Christmas movies, and driving around rich people neighborhoods to admire their lights hadn’t gone as poorly, but they all made his absence grow harder to ignore.

When Bradley told you his deployment would last through the holidays, you struggled to keep your disappointment to yourself, though you’re sure he could see it shining in your eyes. As much as you would miss him during the holidays, you knew it was worse for him, with only emails and skype calls for comfort – no silly little Christmas rituals to occupy his mind.

“You need help in here?” Natasha’s voice jolts you out of your pity-party spiral.

“No, I just got distracted,” you say, scooping up two of the spritzes and offering her one. “Let’s get this party started.”

Phoenix smiles and accepts your cocktail. She herself had just gotten back from her own deployment, and pretty immediately sensed your holiday ennui. She was the one who suggested this festive evening, and you’ve never been more grateful for her friendship.

While you were listless in the kitchen, she had assembled the most perfect gingerbread house making station you’d ever seen: frosting packed into several near-bursting bags, candy canes arranged in perfect rows, gumdrops with a shimmering dusting of sugar, and a scattering of gingerbread roofs and walls waiting patiently to be dressed.

“Wow, Nat, this looks great.”

“Thank you. I’m sure the boys will mess it up in three seconds flat, but at least you appreciate it.”

As if on cue, your front door bursts open, and a clot of merrily dressed sailors spills into your home, arms stacked with presents for Secret Santa. You point to the open space under the Christmas tree, and quickly your and Natasha’s presents are joined by all the others.

After the presents are unloaded, you and Phoenix are engulfed in hugs. Fanboy is wearing a Santa hat, and he has two in hand that he passes to you and Phoenix, insisting that you put them on right now. You happily oblige, as you’re inching closer to how you usually feel during the holidays now that you’re surrounded by friends. Even Jake is cheery, having rocked up in an ugly Christmas sweater covered with bows and tinsel, which is bizarre yet comforting. You do your best not to think about the person you wish was here most, as the Daggers seem dead set to help you have a great Christmas despite his absence.

“This is for you, our gracious host.” Bob hands you a potted poinsettia. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“It’s really no problem,” you insist as you place the flowers on the side table by your couch. “I love you all.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Still, we’re a lot, I know.”

He’s not wrong – Coyote and Payback have already found the spritzes and Fanboy’s popped three gumdrops into his mouth – but you don’t mind. Even when the gingerbread house decorating competition starts. Calling it a competition might be an understatement. The Daggers are more than competitive, especially about inconsequential things. Nobody speaks as they draft their houses in bright white icing and stud them with decorative candies. The only way to get them to quiet is through arts and crafts, you muse as you decorate your house with swirls of icing like snow drifts and tiny snowflakes dotting the roof and walls. 

The sabotage begins early, when Hangman reaches for a bowl of peppermints and not-so-subtly brushes his hand over Phoenix's roof, smearing the frosting.

“Hey asshole,” Natasha says. “That’s my house.”

“Oh really? Looks like you got a little smear there.” Jake slides a finger across Phoenix’s carefully piped shingles, messing up her roof even more.

“You’re a dead man, Seresin.” Nat narrows her eyes. She won’t go for Jake’s gingerbread house, she’ll bide her time. You’re glad you’re not Hangman right now.

“Got anymore spritzes?” Coyote asks you.

You nod your head. “In the kitchen, help yourself.”

When Coyote gets up to refill his glass, Fanboy snatches his piping bag and swaps it for his almost empty one. While Fanboy’s distracted, Payback helps himself to the pile of Twizzlers Fanboy’s been hoarding since the beginning of the competition.

“Who is even going to judge these?” You ask almost absentmindedly as you stand a gingerbread couple together at the door of their house with copious amounts of frosting. “We all know whose house is whose.”

There’s a smattering of laughter.

“We’ll figure it out after Secret Santa,” Nat assures you as she completes the retiling of her roof, the eaves perfectly punctuated with peppermints.

Before you can question the logic of that solution, Bob asks for your opinion on colored versus strictly green and red gum drops.

“Hey, no helping the competition,” Fanboy complains.

“What?” You level a heavy gaze on him. “Scared you won’t win if Bob and I combine forces? I would be.”

“I’m just saying, this should be a fair contest,” he says.

You shrug him off and answer Bob, but in the spirit of sabotage, you neglect to tell him about the frosting dried on his cheek.

Even though you’re risking your gingerbread house’s safety, once you’ve finished, you slip into the hall. You refresh your inbox on your phone, and you smile as you see an email from Bradley.

Subject: Miss you

Hey pretty girl. Been missing you all day today. Wish I was there to hang stockings and give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen. Don’t forget to hang it – you can leave it up until I get back. Don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I can’t wait to come home to you.

Your heart flutters, as it always does when you get an email from him. You quickly type out a response.

Subject: Miss you more

Hey hot stuff. I’ve already hung the mistletoe and have no plans to take it down until you make me see stars under it. I miss doing holiday things with you (you really know how to wrangle the tree), but Nat especially has been helping me through it. Still, I really miss you. All I need is your arms around me and everything will feel right again. Can’t wait to see you again.

You press send and sigh. You never want to complain – it’s Bradley who had to live on an aircraft carrier for months at a time – but sometimes it feels so unfair for two people to be so in love and yet spend the holidays all alone.

You give yourself a moment to collect yourself before you go back to the increasingly hostile competition. Jake has icing in his hair – you know Phoenix is responsible, but her wrath won’t end there – and Payback’s house had a giant fist-sized crater in the roof. Surely unrelated, Coyote’s knuckles are dusted with gingerbread crumbs. You couldn’t help the smile the chaotic scene pulled from you. Especially since your gingerbread house remains in pristine condition.

You thank Nat for watching over it, and she responds with a bright smile. “No problem, I can’t have the boys messing up your Christmas celebration.”

“Hey!” All the boys except Bob protest in unison. Phoenix raises her brows, point proven.

Once all of the gingerbread houses are complete and aligned in a row like a candied neighborhood block, the party shifts toward the Christmas tree. Bob distributes presents to each of you. Yours is an envelope, and you know it is from Nat. Your name is written on the thick, cream paper in Nat’s graceful script, which you know like your own after years of friendship.

“No one can beat my present,” Nat boasts as she catches you studying the envelope.

“Oh we’ll see,” Coyote says.

You swallow down a little lump, seeing everyone around the tree without Rooster. Though you love and appreciate your friends, the emptiness of his presence is almost smothering.

Your mood warms when Jake volunteers to go first. You’re his Secret Santa, and just as you predicted, he loves the smartphone-controlled paper airplane you got for him. He opens it and has it folded  in a matter of seconds. He syncs it to his phone, and his first flight ends with the plane crashing into Coyote’s head.

“Durable.” Hangman remarks as he picks up the paper airplane, which holds its shape just fine.

“Asshole.” Coyote replies.

Payback is next, and he gets a bottle of scotch from Jake. You don’t know much about scotch, but from Payback’s reaction, you can tell it’s a really nice bottle.

Coyote gets Bob a navy Aran sweater, which Bob wastes no time throwing on.

“Feel how soft!” Bob says as he smothers Coyote in a hug. Cue three minutes of Bob inviting everyone to touch his sweater – you can’t blame him, though, it is really soft.

Bob’s gift to Coyote makes you wonder how Nat is going to top it. Bob made a crochet version of Taffy, Coyote’s miniature pinscher. 

“Thank you, I love it.” Coyote cradles the crocheted dog tight, and you wonder if you’re just imagining the tremble in his voice or if he’s actually about to cry.

“Come on Javy,” Jake says, “don’t go all soft now.”

Fanboy gets a countertop pizza oven from Payback, which instantly becomes one of his most prized possessions based on the sheer amount of pizza he consumes.

“Thanks, man.” He gives Payback a friendly punch on the arm. “You all have to come over for pizza night.”

You all hum in agreement. Fanboy’s pizzas are amazing, and you wouldn’t mind spending another night with everyone together. Well, almost everyone. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

Phoenix opens her gift from Fanboy slowly, as if she’s afraid of its contents. She peels back the shiny green paper to reveal a charcuterie board and a set of cheese knives with wooden handles that match the board. She hugs it close to her chest and mouths thank you across the room to Fanboy, who doesn’t notice because he’s reading the pizza recipe included with his oven.

Finally it is your turn. All eyes in the room land on you, strangely sober despite the freely flowing spritzes. You give Phoenix a quick glance as you slide a finger under the flap of the envelope, but her expression is unreadable.

“It's a…” you say as your fingers graze a satiny band of fabric. “Blindfold?”

You hold it up for everyone to see. Everyone’s expressions are carefully arranged to not convey anything. Not quite the laughter you were expecting. A sense of uneasiness blooms in your stomach.

Nat stands up and takes the blindfold out of your hands. Quicker than you can think, she’s tying it around your head.

“What is going on?” You ask.

She finishes the bow and pats your shoulder. “Just you wait.”

A few suppressed snickers fill the room and make your uneasiness melt into dread. The gentle shush of a door opening and closing makes it worse.

“I swear, if you guys are ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas-ing’ me right now I will be so angry.”

The silence that falls after you speak is so, so loud. No one turned the record, so even Nat King Cole is quiet. But then you hear it. It’s hard to explain, but you’d know that breathing anywhere. You’d spent many nights falling asleep to that gentle lullaby or hearing it as he held you close in the kitchen, neither of you caring that dinner was burning on the stove.

You rip off the blindfold, and there he is. Bradley. Bradley. Standing next to your Christmas tree, a bow tied around his chest. The Daggers surround him like magician’s assistants, all their hands raised in a sort of ta-da manner.

You leap off the couch and into his waiting arms. He smells like an aircraft carrier and shitty coffee, his clothes rough and government-issued, and his hair cropped a little too close to his head than you know he likes – but he’s yours. He’s yours in the way his embrace consumes you, blurring the line between you and him, erasing the months and miles of distance between the two of you. He’s yours in the way the beat of his heart drums in rhythm with your own. Yours in the way that you are his as well. He lifts you up so your feet dance in the air, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

He sets you down and crashes his lips into yours. He slips his tongue into your mouth unabashedly, and despite your audience, you let him. The kiss is long enough that you start to feel bad for everyone else, so you sheepishly pull away.

“Goddamn, Rooster,” Hangman says, “let the girl breathe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves the comment away.

But you don’t want to breathe. Not if your other option is to kiss Bradley until you’re both oxygen starved. Because you’re starved for him, need to feed on his presence. 

Then the realization sets in. Rooster is supposed to be deployed for another month. You wheel around to face Nat. “How the hell did you do this?”

She shrugs. “Loverboy emailed me last week, just after I got home from my deployment. Said he was coming home earlier than expected, and he wanted to surprise you.”

“Wait, so all of you knew?” You pointedly look at everyone, but nobody can quite keep eye contact with you.

Bradley wraps an arm around your waist. “They all did pretty good keeping it under wraps, huh?”

“I would hope so, given our clearance levels,” Jake says.

Everyone laughs, but you’re still reeling. You can’t believe Bradley is here. His calloused fingers rubbing the skin of your back, just under the hem of your shirt. His gentle laugh reverberating against your body, reminding you what wholeness feels like. His lips, slightly chapped (with none of your chapstick to steal on the carrier), murmuring into your hair. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know what he means nonetheless.

You’d imagined Bradley’s homecoming as a flurry of ripped clothes, bruising kisses, and mutual insatiable hunger, but this is better. All of your friends in the same room, sharing in this festive homecoming, looking like absolute dorks. Fanboy’s Santa hat sits askew on his head. Payback and Coyote are obviously drunk off their asses (they definitely pregamed the festivities, as Payback has been reduced to giggles and Coyote has actual tears streaming down his face). Jake has yet to realize the frosting in his hair, Bob the frosting on his face. And Natasha is a dork by association. You and Bradley too. But the overwhelming love in the room makes you want to sob happy tears.

Bradley happily indulges you all in judging the gingerbread houses. He gets down to eye level with each entry, runs his fingers along the roofs, occasionally snaps off a piece of candy and pops it in his mouth.

“Very good job, everyone.” He speaks to the group as if you’re all kindergartners, reveling in the building anticipation. There’s never a prize for Dagger competitions, but there doesn’t need to be. Bragging rights is all they need, no matter how menial the situation.

Bradley carefully reshuffles the houses in order from last to first place. Fanbody. Jake. Payback. Coyote. Nat. He purposefully shields first and second place. Only you and Bob are left – maybe the least competitive people in the room – and still, tension is thick in the air.

“And the winner…” Bradley’s voice booms like an old-fashioned gameshow host, “...is…”

He finally slides to the side to reveal your house sitting in first place.

Bob sticks his hand up for a high five. Your hands collide with a solid thunk.

 “Not fair,” Fanboy protests. “Rooster’s obviously biased.”

“Come on, he didn’t know whose house was whose,” Phoenix says. “Besides, you weren’t even in the top five, and Payback had a hole in his roof.”

“It’s ok, Nat,” you voice oozes with fake sympathy. “I’d be upset too if I spent so much time on a shit gingerbread house.”

Fanboy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh you want to play that game?”

He lunges around the table, and you immediately grab Bradley to use as a human shield. 

“Lots of talk from someone who’s gonna hide behind her boyfriend,” he says teasingly.

“I’m not hiding.” You tighten your grip on Bradley’s waist, his hands covering yours. “You can get to me, you’re just gonna have to get through him first.”

Bradley puffs out his chest. “Nobody disparages the gingerbread contest queen. She earned her title by being the best.”

Later, because he can’t keep a secret from you (the only thing that saved the Secret Santa surprise was only being able to communicate through email), Bradley confesses that he knew which house was yours the moment he saw it. But still, that one little detail doesn’t negate the fact that you are the gingerbread contest queen.

And Bradley defends your honor well as you maneuver him from behind to keep a distance between yourself and Fanboy. Eventually, Bob steps in to broker a peace deal to end the conflict. Somehow, you are roped in for bringing more spritzes to Fanboy’s pizza night, but he can no longer dispute the fact that you have the best gingerbread house. A win is a win, and your gloating privileges remain.

Later, when everyone is winding down and glancing at their coats hanging by the door, Bradley pulls you into the kitchen.

“Honey, I think our guests are about to leave.” You try to move back toward the living room, but Bradley keeps hold of your hand. “Please, let’s not be rude.”

He shakes his head. “They’ll understand. They know. They know exactly what it's like.”

You relent because he’s right. Even you don’t know what it’s like. Loneliness has been a long lingering companion of yours, but you suffer her presence at home surrounded by close comforts and your parents a short drive away. For Bradley, for Nat, for Jake, for Bob and all the rest, it’s different. It’s their job. They suffer loneliness with mostly long shifts and shitty food for company. 

So you let Bradley chase out his – and your – loneliness in the kitchen. As he pulls you ever closer, his palms flattening you against him, you wonder how you ever survived apart when it was so clear that your souls were really just one.

You break away panting. God knows how long you were indulging, but you just about jump out of your skin when you realize Phoenix is in the kitchen right behind you, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

Your cheeks warm. “Nat!”

“Sorry, didn’t bother me, so I didn’t want to bother you.” She shrugs. “Want a glass?”

You decline, and you and Bradley shuffle out of the kitchen like teenagers caught in the act. Nearly everyone is shrugging their coats on, chatting about the night, when they catch sight of the two of you.

“Now, just where in the hell did y’all run off to?” Jake prods.

You can’t even look at them.

“Just the kitchen,” Rooster says, locking his hand in yours. “Needed to make sure the champagne was still flowing.”

Everyone shares the same knowing look that makes you want to shove them all out the door. Instead, you and Bradley post up at the door like perfect hosts and thank everyone for coming as they slip into the surprisingly chilly night. Then, only you, Bradley, and Phoenix are left.

While everyone was saying their goodbyes, she was sipping her champagne and quietly wiping sugar, gingerbread crumbs, and crusted frosting off the dining table.

“You bitch,” you say as you swoop in to help her clean up. “How come you didn’t tell me as soon as you found out?”

She laughs and takes another sip of wine. “Why don’t you ask Rooster?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He sheepishly grins.

“In my defense,” he says, “it was a really good surprise.”

“I can’t believe you two.” You laugh. “But thank you for the surprise. It was wonderful.”

You try to direct your gratitude to them both, but something in Rooster’s expression snags your gaze and won’t let go. There’s still an unsatiated hunger heavy in his eyes.

Nat sets down her now empty glass. “Alright, lovebirds, I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”

She gathers her things, and you walk her to the door.

“Thank you.” You give her a hug. Neither of you are super touchy, but your gratitude for her tonight is almost endless. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” She squeezes you tight before letting go. “Goodnight, Rooster!”

“Goodnight!” He calls from somewhere deep in the house.

“Sounds like he’s waiting for you,” she winks. “See you soon.”

“Get home safe!”

And with that, it’s just the two of you. You expect Bradley to pounce the second the door closes, but he doesn’t appear as you linger by the doorway. Odd. You check the kitchen, living room, and dining room. All empty.

“Bradley?” You call.

“Right here.”

His response floats from down the hallway, from your bedroom.

And sure enough, there he stands in the doorway. Right under the mistletoe you hung up earlier in the week, the biggest grin on your face when you pictured his homecoming some time after New Years, all the Christmas decorations gone except the lonely mistletoe, waiting patiently for his arrival. But now, you can put the mistletoe to good use while Christmas is still bright on the horizon. The warmth of the season bleeds into the warmth of your kiss. Christmas will come as surely as it would have if Bradley was on deployment, but now you welcome it. You want lazy days sipping eggnog and baking cookies. You want late, festive nights at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, getting into pool competitions with Bradley as your loyal teammate despite how disastrous you are at pool, assured in his easy we-lose-together attitude. You want a Christmas morning with presents that don’t matter because the best gift you could ask for has already appeared right by your tree tonight, wrapped in a bow.

“Don’t leave me ever again,” you whisper against his chest.

“I won’t,” he says, “I won’t.”

You both know it’s not something you can ask of him, not a promise he can keep. It’s not fair to either of you to pretend like this will be his last homecoming, the last time you both are starved of each other for months. But right now, it feels good to pretend.

You can’t think long about his future deployments, however. Your worries melt away as Bradley makes good on his promise to give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen.

[marie-swriting]

What If - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : After having an accident, Jake wants to live in the moment even more and take your relationship a step forward, but do you ?

Warnings : Bradshaw!Reader (Reader is Bradley's younger sister by two years), mention of plane accident, mention of deaths (parents and best friend), fear of losing loved ones, proposal, angst, sad ending, implied struggling with mental health, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Song inspiration : Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift

You run in the hospital hallways, searching for room 322. Your anxiety increases with every step you take. Your destination seems unreachable. Your eyes are filled with tears but you hold them back. However, the second you walk through the door 322, they run free on your cheeks. Seeing Jake’s body laying down on the bed, hurt, doesn’t help to reduce your stress. Hearing you walking in the room, Jake gives you a big smile as if he didn’t almost die the day before. You get closer to him, examining him a bit more while wiping your cheeks. His left arm is in a sling, his head is bandaged and he has several cuts on his face.

“So, I heard you like bad boys,” Jake starts with a cocky smile, “is this good enough for you?”

“Jake, this is not the time to make jokes. You could have died!” you retort, sitting on the chair next to his bed.

“And I didn’t. I’m here and alive.”

“And hurt.”

“The fact is I’m alive. Thanks to your brother.” he specifies, showing Bradley with his chin.

“At least, we now know who is the best pilot.” your brother jokes.

“In your dreams, Rooster, I just wanted to test your ability to react quickly.”

“You’ll do your pissing contest later, tell me how you’re feeling.” you ask, still panicked.

“I’m fine. I almost don’t feel anything thanks to the meds. Y/N, I am fine, really.” Jake promises you, taking your hand with his right one.

“I’m gonna leave you alone.” Bradley informs you by pressing your shoulder. “Get some rest, Hangman.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Jake says once you’re alone.

“Trust me, it’s not just worrying. I really thought… For a moment, I was sure…” you stutter, a tear rolling down your cheek again.

“I know, I’m sorry. Come here.” he invites you, moving in the best way so you can lie down.

“No, I might hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

Reluctantly, you get closer to the bed. You think of the best way you could get in bed without hurting him. Jake rolls his eyes before dragging you towards him with his abled arm. You find yourself next to him and you put your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his natural scent and the hospital.

“Don’t ever do that again. I can’t lose you.” you mutter.

“You won’t lose me. I promise.” Jake affirms, forcing you to look at him. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Jake.”

You give a small smile then you press your lips against Jake’s. Your kiss isn’t as passionate as it could be, yet it shares all the love you feel.

Once the night comes, you refuse to leave Jake. You literally beg the nurses to let you stay the night. At first, they insist on you leaving, nonetheless when you explain how scared you were to lose your boyfriend and how you can only stay in San Francisco for two days due to your job, they accept. Therefore, you’re currently on the chair in the corner of the room with a thin blanket. Jake wanted you to stay with him on the bed but you said you wouldn’t, you are afraid you might hurt him while sleeping. Your unimportant argument lasted thirty minutes but you stood your ground until the end.

Tired because of his medicines, Jake fell asleep in a few minutes. As for you, you stay awake, watching his chest rise and fall at the rhythm of his breaths. You don’t dare to look away, fearing that by doing so, he might stop respiring. 

Notwithstanding, with the hours passing by and with all the emotion you felt, Morpheus comes to embrace you in his arms. At first, your sleep is relaxing though as soon as you start dreaming, your breathing quickens. You see Jake lying on the ground unconscious, you hear your own heart-rending scream when Bradley tells you about an accident, you smell the rain while the coffin sinks in the ground, you touch the tears on your fingers whilst you’re wiping your cheeks and finally, you feel your own heart that seems like it stopped beating in your chest. 

You wake up jumping at that last sensation. You calm down your breathing while you stare at Jake, wanting to make sure he’s still alive in his hospital bed. You can’t see his chest moving, you panic then you stand up from the chair and run to him. Jake lightly opens the mouth before closing it several times and then changing position in the bed. Seeing him moving makes you sigh in relief. 

Jake is okay. Jake is alive. Jake is not dead. Jake will not die.

No matter how many times you repeat those sentences like a mantra, your anxiety still doesn’t leave your body. Tears threaten to really stream down your face so you discreetly leave the room. Thankfully, the corridor is empty, allowing you to cry your eyes out. You hold back sobs as much as you can. If you sobbed, you would wake Jake up for sure.

You need a moment to calm down your tears. Seeing Jake hurt because of his work in the Navy overwhelmed you so much for several reasons. The first one being because you love Jake and you don’t want to lose him. The second one is because of the buried memories. Your dad died when you were still a baby and Bradley was only two. You don’t have memories of him but you know how much his death affected your mom. The loss of your father isn’t the only one haunting you. You also lost your best friend Lucy. You had been friends with her since you were four years old. You were inseparable until she enlisted in the army and died at twenty. 

Receiving Bradley’s call about Jake gave you a glimpse of what your mother and Lucy’s mom went through, a trial you always hoped you’d never face.

Once you're sure you won’t fall apart, you go back in the room. By some miracle, Jake didn’t hear you leaving or entering, probably because of the medicine - normally, he’s a light sleeper. You walk back to the chair and stay awake the whole night, you don’t want to sit through another tragic scenario made by your brain.

The next day, you stay with Jake until the evening. You don’t want to leave him behind in the hospital, however, you have work so you don’t have a choice. Bradley promises you he’ll stay with Jake until his family comes during the week-end and he’ll keep you updated on Jake’s health. You only trust Bradley for this, you know Jake might not tell you everything to not worry you.

When you’re back home, you find your apartment dull. What is supposed to make you feel better can’t comfort you whilst in your mind, you get more lost in your deepest fears. The fact you’re in the process of moving out doesn’t help. 

Jake and you are supposed to get a small house together. You should have the keys in two weeks, his deployment was supposed to be over by then. A few days ago, you were still looking forward to leaving your apartment and living with the man you love and now, you don’t know anymore.

Your relationship has always been exceptional, not only because he’s a good man but also considering that, before him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to date an army man. You always knew your mother as a half empty shell so you always wanted to protect yourself from the same deadly fate and the loss of Lucy didn’t help either. You’re already worried about losing your brother and Maverick, whom you consider as your uncle, you don’t want to risk losing your partner, too. Therefore, you had always refused to fall in love with a man like this. Before, you could do it until Jake appeared in your life; just like his personality, his entrance in your life was loud. You tried to resist it but your heart didn’t give you a choice so, for the first time, you broke your own rule. Your relationship with Jake is the most beautiful one you’ve ever had and you have no regrets about it. You used to have no regrets about it. His accident was a good reminder of how dangerous his job is. 

Until you came home, you tried to shut down your fears and your doubts though, now, in your half-empty apartment, you can’t ignore it anymore. That night, you can’t sleep, your mind too busy to torture you.

Unfortunately for you, your mind doesn't give you one second of peace. The following days, you doubt your whole relationship with Jake, imagining the worst case scenarios in which he’d die during several milestones : your first house together, your wedding, pregnancies, anniversaries. The list never seems to end. You can’t be optimistic about it. You’re completely lost in your worries to the point where you end up living like a robot. You’re making yourself sick while anticipating the worst.

Your downward spiral is interrupted a week later by a knock on your door one morning. At first, you ignore the noise, comfortably staying in your discontent. However, when the person insists, you leave your bed and open them, not without sighing, annoyed. You’re about to tell the person to leave but the presence of Jake stops you. He wasn’t supposed to come back to San Diego right now and yet, here he is, in front of you, a big smile on his face and his left arm still in the sling and his wounds on his face starting to fade.

“Jake? What are you doing here? You still need to rest!”

“I know, I wanted to see you though and I couldn’t wait so I took the night train at the last minute. Can I come in?” Jake asks and  you let him in, still surprised.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have come during the weekend.”

“I wanted to surprise you. You’re okay ? You look under the weather.” he observes, stroking your cheek.

“I should ask you this, you’re the one who almost died not even a week ago.” you answer, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m better, Y/N. Even Bradley told you so. The recovery is gonna be long but I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I love when you go all mother hen. It’s cute.” he says, kissing your cheek and you let go of a laugh.

“You’re an idiot. Let’s go to the living room.” you invite him, starting to walk. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No. I just want to talk to you.” Jake informs you.

“About what?”

You frown when he prevents you from sitting on your couch. He slowly strokes your hand before taking a deep breath.

“Look, you know I always try to enjoy the present and with this accident, it really made me realise how precious what we currently have is. I don’t want to waste any seconds, I want to enjoy every moment with you. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a moment now but I would keep telling myself it might be too early so I always pushed it back then I talked about it with my mom and she convinced me to jump in with both feet.”

“Jake, what do you mean?” you question, stress twisting your stomach.

“Y/N,” Jake resumes, looking deeply in your eyes, “since the second I saw you, I knew you were the woman made for me. I knew you were worth the fight, even if, at first, you wouldn’t pay attention to me. You’re the most intelligent, funny, compassionate and beautiful woman I know. We will have our own house soon and I can’t wait to reach this milestone with you but I’d love for us to reach another one.” he confesses, putting one knee down and your eyes are wide open.

“Jake.”

“Y/N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Wh-what ?” you stutter and Jake nervously laughs.

“Will you marry me?”

“Are you serious?” you question, dropping his hand.

“Huh, yes, I even have the ring.” he specifies, taking out the ring from his pocket, “Though I gotta admit, I think of saying it’s just a joke right now, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m just surprised. I don’t know what to say.” you defend yourself.

Your eyes are set on Jake’s ring. You’ve seen it before. He’d shown it to you the day you first met his parents a year ago. It’s his great-grand-mother’s ring. It’s simple but you find it beautiful.

“It’s easy, say yes or no.” Jake replies with an anxious smile.

“Jake, we’ve only been together for two years.” you argue and Jake stands up.

“We don’t have to get married next year. We can be engaged for several years. We can wait before calling each other husband and wife, but I have to admit I’d love to, at least, call you my fiancée.”

“Jake, I can’t.” you end up saying.

“What, do you have a first husband in your attic or something?” Jake laughs and you see the panic in his eyes.

“No, I can’t marry you.”

Your sentence sounds like a fatal blow in Jake’s ears. He stays silent, staring at you without understanding what’s going on. He gets a grip on himself when his phone rings in his pocket. Jake knows it’s his mom. She knew he was going to propose today and she is impatient to call you her daughter-in-law. However, it looks like it won’t be the case. Jake opens his mouth several times before managing to utter something:

“What? Why?”

“I… I can’t.”

“But I love you, we love each other. You love me, right?” he asks, doubtful.

“Of course I love you, Jake, more than I ever loved before.” you promise him, making him frown.

“What’s the problem then?”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

If your first refusal already seemed awful to him, the sentence you just said is the final blow. The fact that you don’t want to marry him breaks his heart. He’s lost. It was supposed to be a joyful moment and yet, the ground is falling apart under him.

“What? Did something happen? Did I do something? I… I thought everything was fine between us.”

“It is.”

“Y/N, you have to stop being vague, I don’t understand anything.” he retorts with a strong tone. “What’s going on?”

“You should leave.”

“No, We have to talk about it. You can’t tell me you love me then tell me you don’t want to marry me. Talk to me, Y/N, you have to talk to me. Give me a reason, at least.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” you answer, avoiding his eyes.

“If you explained to me, maybe I’d understand. Are… Are you breaking up with me? Is that why you haven’t been calling me lately?” he questions, desperately searching for an explanation for your behaviour.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we stop right now. I’m sorry, Jake, but I can’t keep being with you. You’ll find someone with whom you’ll share your life with and who will want to marry you.”

“I want it to be you.” he says with a weak tone, tearing up.

“Jake, please.”

“Very well then.” Jake accepts, hurt in his eyes.

Jake turns around and at the rhythm of his steps, your heart breaks whilst you’re looking at him walking to the door. You begged him to leave and yet, you only want to scream at him to come back to you and to hold you in his arms while you apologise. Yet, you stay silent. Jake doesn’t look back when he closes the door.

Once you’re alone, you fall down on your couch. In your head, you convince yourself it’s the best decision. After all, you should feel relieved, now, you don’t have to worry about losing Jake because of his job anymore. Nevertheless, your mind is not calm. You don’t know which way to turn but for different reasons. You wish it was different, it was easier, he had another job, you weren’t afraid. You spend the night crying while removing every trace of Jake in your apartment and unpack some boxes. You have to move on right now before you lose yourself a bit more.

You haven’t talked to Jake for three weeks. He tried to contact you but you ignored every one of his calls. He first wanted to fix your relationship before understanding it was too late, though he wants explanations, explanations you keep for yourself. You don’t want to tell him, you know it’s ridiculous. Why end a relationship given a potential “what if” when everything is fine? However, you also know if you had moved ahead with Jake, you would have ended up sabotaging your relationship. Technically, it’s what you did though at least, you didn’t have to call lawyers to leave his life.

Bradley tried to call you, too, and just like for Jake, you ignored him. Jake probably told him about your break up and Bradley, always being the honourable man, wants to fix the situation. Except the situation can’t be fixed. You don’t want to fix the situation.

When you come back from work that day, you’re surprised to discover your brother at your doorstep. Without thinking, you run in his arms. Sure, you’ve been ignoring him lately but you missed him. The last time you saw each other, you were too focused on Jake to pay attention to him. He holds you in his arms and strokes your back. As soon as you break your embrace, you let Bradley in. You go to your kitchen while talking about banality. Whilst walking, Bradley pays attention to your apartment and notices there isn’t a picture of Jake anymore. Once you’re sitting at the table, you stay silent, waiting for who will be the first to talk about the subject.

“We should talk about the elephant in the room, don’t you think?” Bradley says after a few minutes.

“There’s nothing to say.” you retort, tensed.

“Y/N, you threw away a two years relationship for no reason.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are? Jake is probably curious to know them.”

“If you came here to make things better, you’re wasting your time, Brad’.”

“You can’t act like that and expect to not justify yourself. You were happy with Jake, you love him and you broke up without giving a warning. I have to admit when he told me you refused his proposal, I was shocked. I thought you were gonna say yes without hesitating.”

“You knew?”

“He asked me before coming here. I confess, I laugh at him, I didn’t expect him to ask for your hand or give me a heads-up, like he said.” Bradley informs with a smile, thinking back to the memory. “Everything was good between you two, wasn’t it? So why?”

“It’s better like this. He’ll have a wife who knows how to stay and I won’t suffer.”

“Wait, is all of this because of the parents and Lucy?” he questions, understanding the reason. “You’re still with this stupid no-dating-army-guy rule? I thought we were over with it! Y/N, you can’t ruin your life just because you’re scared.”

“I don’t want to end up like mom! You can’t blame me! We were kids but you can’t deny there was a before and an after with mom. She wasn’t laughing like she used to, she wasn’t smiling like she used to. She was the shadow of her former self. I don’t want to go through this if Jake were to die.” you confess.

“It’s because of his accident, isn’t it?”

“It reminded me he could die at any given moment with his work.”

“Just like he could die off-duty. He can have an accident, have a heart attack, choke while eating. You don’t know what will happen in the future. You can’t condemn yourself ‘cause you’re too afraid he might die while flying. It’s ridiculous.” Bradley affirms, resolutely.

“I’m already afraid of losing you and Mav’ and I already lost Lucy and we lost dad, I don’t want Jake to join this list. Can’t you really blame me? I’d rather protect myself by not being afraid everytime my boyfriend goes to work.”

“Let’s imagine the worst were to happen, don’t you think it’d be better to think you spent every second with him? You’d rather live with regrets? You’d rather break your own heart?”

“At least, I know why I’m hurting.”

“Y/N, you have to think about it again.” he sighs. “You have to get out of your head that the worst will happen. You can’t prevent yourself from being happy because of what could happen. You deserve a beautiful life and to be with Jake. I never saw you this happy before and it kills me to see you throw it away because you’re scaring yourself.”

“The problem is I can’t help it,” you start with trembling lips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it when we first got together then it got better. However, since his accident, it’s been worse. Since your call, I keep imagining what could have happened and what could happen and I’m tired of it, Bradley. I’ll never get rid of it and I hate it but that’s how it is. Believe me, if I could change, I’d do it right now, but I can’t.”

Bradley hugs you as soon as he sees you crying. He holds you against him until your tears stop a few hours later. His heart aches seeing you hurting this much. He knows you’ve always been more affected by your father’s death. Being the youngest, the emptiness you feel about your dad has always been stronger. It got worse with Lucy’s death. That day, Bradley really saw you get broken. He hated every second of this moment of your life. He hates seeing suffering like you currently are. Several times, Bradley tried to help you, he advised you to go see a professional but you’ve always refused. Until now, he had hoped your fears would ease with time, yet, your relationship with Jake just proved him it got worse and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely distraught whilst he keeps holding you against him, hoping to give you some kind of comfort. 

Two months have passed since your break up. You take it day by day to heal your broken heart. Bradley tries to stay with you as much as he can while Jake isn’t surrounded by anyone. He prefers to wear a mask and pretend your negative answer isn’t hurting him. Nevertheless, the second he’s home alone, his mask falls and he allows himself to feel all his pain. Jake, who has always done it, manages to fool everyone with his fake cocky smile. Almost everyone. Coyote sees right through him.

That night is no exception. Sitting at the counter in the Hard Deck, Jake is drinking his third alcoholic drink. Jake has isolated himself from the rest of the Dagger Squad, saying he’s tired and wanted to be alone. Though, Javy doesn’t let him be in the doldrums. He sits on the stool next to Jake and orders a beer from Penny. Coyote gives him some minutes of peace before speaking.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Coyote doesn’t even need to specify for Jake to understand. Your relationship has been a taboo subject for two months.

“Not really.” Jake says, taking a sip.

“You should.” he replies while Penny hands him his beer. “Do you at least know why she made this decision?”

Jake didn’t tell anyone the reason for your fallout. He feels humiliated enough by your harsh refusal to his proposal, he wants to bury the end of your relationship and never talk about it again. Though Javy is right, Jake knows he has to open up.

“Rooster talked to her. Turns out she doesn’t want to marry me because she’s scared I might die on-duty.”

“Did your accident scare her that much?” Javy questions, taken aback.

“It was the final straw but she’s always been scared apparently. I mean, I suspected it, you know, seeing what we do for a living, it makes sense. She also lost her dad and her best friend in similar circumstances. The problem is I didn’t know those deaths affected her that much. Anyway, there is nothing else to say.”

Coyote doesn't say anything for a moment, taking in the information and the way might have felt when he learned them.

“Well, she would have made such a lovely bride. What a shame she’s fucked in the head.” he says, ignoring what else to say.

“She suffered and she doesn’t want to go through this pain again, we can’t blame her. I’m not saying she should stay lost in her fear, it’s not healthy though, I get why she does.” Jake states before taking a deep breath and finishing his drink in one go. “I just wish she would trust our love more than her fears.”

Once he comes home, Jake sits down on his couch, sighing loudly. He runs a hand on his face, emotionally drained. As soon as his hand lands on his thigh, his eyes find a picture hung beside his TV that he didn’t have the strength to remove. It’s a photo he took at the beginning of your relationship, more precisely the day you told each other ‘I love you’ for the first time.

You had spent the day at the beach during summer. The sun was setting down whilst you were laughing at a stupid sentence Jake had said. He had stopped laughing before you, admiring you while you tried to calm your laughter. Then, Jake had looked deeply in your eyes and he had said those three words so simple and yet, so powerful. You had replied the following second with a big smile on your face. Before leaving the beach, Jake had asked to immortalise this moment. Thinking back on it, it was cliché and cheesy but Jake didn’t care. For you, he would have done the most cliché gestures if it could make you break a smile.

Jake keeps staring at the picture, your relationship running in his head. Without noticing it, he tears up before the tears stream down his face. It’s the third time he cries since your break up. The first time, it was the night of the proposal after he went home and the second time, when Bradley explained to him the reason behind your ‘no’.

Jake has never been good with his emotions. Between his education and his work in the army, he’s never learned to put words on his pain and to accept being vulnerable. With you, he had succeeded to understand himself better and to open up. It was still complicated despite two years together but he had improved. Now, he is back to square one. He’s back to his shell, running away from his emotions. Though, it doesn’t mean his mind isn’t haunted by 'what if's. What if he never had this accident? What if he had seen right through your fears sooner? What if he had managed to reassure you? What if he had managed to convince you to get the help you need? What if everything was different?

As for you, the questions are similar. Every night, you torture your own mind before crying yourself to sleep whilst looking at the spot where there once was the picture of your first ‘I love you’ before you ripped it off from your bedroom wall just like you ripped off both of your hearts from your chest.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: What are you supposed to do when you don't know how to talk to your husband? How is he supposed to love you and your body when you can't even figure out how to love yourself anymore? You watch Bradley leave for deployment. 

Warnings: Angst, sex, swearing

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When you woke up on the bathroom floor the morning after your promotion banquet, and remembered what happened, you started crying. Your dress whites had been so perfect and crisply pressed. The excitement for your new piece of hardwear had fueled you along. You had forgotten about how much you hated your body right now, at least for a few hours. 

Everything ached as you stood up and tried to stretch out all of the kinks you had from sleeping on the bath mat. Bradley was leaving tomorrow. He would be gone for eight weeks. And you didn't even want to leave this bathroom and see him right now. 

But when you opened the door, curious about what time it was and ready to pack your back and go home, you nearly tripped over your husband. He was sleeping on the floor outside the bathroom, curled up with a pillow and a sheet. You braced yourself on the doorway so you didn't fall. 

"Baby Girl," he croaked, his voice still hoarse.

Your eyes were stinging, and you felt miserable knowing he had slept on the floor, too. But he had ruined your night, and you didn't even want to have to listen to him apologize to you. 

"I want to go home," you informed him with a steady voice that betrayed how terrible you felt. 

"Can we talk about this?" he asked, getting to his feet and looking as miserable as you felt. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."

You just closed your eyes and shook your head. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could take a bath and change and start to feel better. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

He ran his hand over his face and swallowed hard, and you slipped past him to get your stuff together. 

You were back home by nine o'clock. Part of you wanted Bradley to vanish and leave you alone. The rest of you was panicking inside, because by this time tomorrow, he would be gone. And then what would you do? It might be weeks before he could call you. But even though you knew you needed to straighten things out right now, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

So you sank down into a bubble bath while he muttered something about taking Tramp for a walk. Good. He was gone now. The house was quiet. And you were left alone to think about how out of control your emotions were. But you decided were allowed to be frustrated that your night got ruined, and you were allowed to be annoyed with Bradley. However, today was also your last chance to see him for two months. And you were ovulating. 

So you shaved your legs and got out of the bath. Then you tried to do your normal routine of drying off and applying lotion, but you could hear Bradley messing around in the bedroom. When you wrapped your towel around yourself and poked your head in, he looked up from his duffle bag. "Hi," he said softly. He had his underwear and some clothing in stacks on the dresser. He was packing to leave. 

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, your fingernails digging into your palms. Never had you ever, not even once, felt this awkward around him. It was disorienting and unsettling. You couldn't have imagined this if you tried. His brown eyes were sad and apologetic, but he seemed to be holding back what he wanted to say. And you were sure your expression was similar. 

You had no idea how to make any of this better. So you blurted out the first thing on your tongue. "You're right. We shouldn't be wasting time. And maybe there's something physically wrong with one of us, but maybe there's not. So I think we should have sex today. While I'm ovulating."

But Bradley didn't budge. He blinked at you and licked his lips. "I'm sorry I upset you. And I really don't know if having sex right now is the best idea, you know?"

It's not like you even wanted to. But you felt like you should. So you let your towel drop to the floor at your feet, because you knew it was impossible for Bradley to feel nothing when you were naked for him. 

His lips parted, his pupils went wide, and his breathing was ragged. "You really want to?"

"Yes," you said softly, lying to your husband even as he took a step closer to you. When his lips met yours, you turned your head so that his mustache skimmed along your neck instead. He kissed down to your shoulder, and it felt good. It always felt good. But you had to force yourself to lay out on the bed as he quickly undressed. 

When Bradley settled on top of you, he stroked his fingers along your slit and then met your eyes. You knew you weren't wet. You bit your lip and had to hold back your tears. 

"We don't have to-" 

"Yes," you said, cutting him off. "We do."

Once again, he looked like you'd physically hit him. He just nodded and brought his fingers up to his lips, coating them with his saliva and returning them to your core. You let your head tip back against the pillow and tried to think about your honeymoon or the way Bradley once gave you a hat trick. You tried to imagine being back in La Jolla. Anything sexy. But all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to see a positive pregnancy test. 

You hiccuped softly, squeezing your eyes shut as Bradley lined himself up with your opening and pushed himself inside you. He just needed to cum. The sooner the better. 

"You okay?" he asked, pushing himself deeper. 

You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. "Yeah."

And so he started to thrust as he kissed softly along your collar bones, but after a few minutes, you could tell he wasn't even as hard as he usually was. Tears stung your eyes. You couldn't do anything right. You couldn't get pregnant. And you couldn't keep your husband hard. You couldn't even seem to go five minutes without wanting to disappear into thin air. 

When Bradley met your eyes, he muttered, "Sorry." 

"It's probably my fault," you whispered, but he pressed his lips to yours and shook his head. 

"It's not, Sweetheart." But he had to bury his face against your neck and stroke himself with his right hand until he was hard enough to fuck you while you laid there beyond mortified. And the sound of his soft grunts as he came inside you was such a relief when you finally heard them, you sank back with your forearm over your eyes. 

Bradley didn't collapse in bed with you. He didn't snuggle up with you in his arms. You felt the bed dip as he climbed out and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

-------------------------

It was a long time before Bradley felt like he could walk back out into the bedroom and face you. What was happening here? He had fucked up last night. He knew that. He burst your bubble, tainted the delight you felt when you were being promoted. And he hated that he did that. He was proud of you, and he never wanted to disappoint you. But he'd just disappointed you again today. 

You were gone when he opened the door, and he felt relieved. Embarrassment washed over him again. He wasn't hard for you. He was always hard for you. Even at the most inopportune times, he was ready to go just thinking about you. He didn't even need to touch the porn they gave him when he jerked off to collect a sperm sample for testing. He just pulled up one of the videos you and he made on his phone and went to town. Two minutes of looking at your body and listening to your voice and he was filling up that little cup. 

"Fuck," he grunted, returning to his duffle bag instead of looking for you. Because he didn't even know what to say right now. Tears were collecting in his eyes as he packed his bag. His stomach was growling for lunch, but he didn't think he deserved to eat anything. 

As he put the finishing touches on his uniforms and flight suits, he finally tossed his bag aside. He wasn't even going to be here tomorrow. He needed to fix all of this right now. He hadn't told you he loved you all day, and you hadn't said it to him. Maybe starting there would be a good jumping off place to try to fix things. 

"Baby Girl?" he called out as he walked down the hallway into the kitchen. And he was treated to the sight of your beautiful body, gorgeous face and elegant hands. But you were holding the piece of mail he'd been trying in vain to hide all over the house. And when you met his eyes, you looked angry. 

"I can explain," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. But that just seemed to make you more upset.

"What the fuck, Bradley?" you asked, the paperwork shaking in your hand. "Were you going to tell me about this? Or just try to avoid all of it?"

"I-" he started before freezing up. Your face was righteous with anger in a way he'd never witnessed before, and he wished he could go back to yesterday and do everything right. 

Then your face melted into sadness. "You weren't going to say anything. Were you?" When he didn't respond, you screamed, "Were you?"

He watched you ball up the papers in your hands before you threw them at his chest with as much force as you could manage. He caught the paper ball, heart pounding and skin on fire. And then you rounded on him. "I can't believe you got your sperm tested without saying anything to me about it!"

He sucked in a deep breath. "I was just trying to help," he managed as angry tears flowed down your cheeks. When he took a step closer, you pressed your palms to his chest and pushed him back. 

"You didn't fucking help anything! It's all my fault that I can't get pregnant!"

"You don't know that," he said as you shoved him harder. "We don't know that."

You reached out and smacked the balled up paper out of his hand and shouted, "Yes! I do! It's actually my fault. It's a fact. I saw it right there on that paper! Your sperm is perfect. So my body must be fucked up!"

"Baby Girl," he gasped in agony. "Don't. Please." To him, you were perfect. And having a child really wasn't worth seeing you like this. Seeing how you'd been sinking in on yourself over the past few months. But maybe right now you weren't wrong. He didn't even know anymore. 

"And you were just hiding the results from me?" you asked, your voice still shaking with rage. "Blaming me quietly?"

"I'm not blaming you for anything!" he said, louder than he anticipated. His voice boomed through the kitchen, and you looked up at him like you didn't even know who he was. Even Tramp had run for cover by this point. 

"That's okay," you whispered, your eyes unwavering even though they were filled with tears. "I'm blaming myself enough for both of us."

He looked at the floor. There was nothing he could do to fix any of this now. And you were literally the last person he wanted to disappoint. As he raked his fingers through his hair, he whispered, "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm going away tomorrow."

He heard you sob as you kicked the sperm test results across the room and stormed down the hallway. 

You were in bed the rest of the afternoon, and Bradley wasn't sure if you were asleep or not. So he avoided the room altogether as he wallowed in this pain that he brought on himself. And on you.

-------------------------

You cried in bed for so long all afternoon, you must have fallen asleep at some point. Bradley's sperm was perfect. It was of higher quality than 95% of men in their mid-thirties. It was ideal for impregnation. The most desirable quality you could imagine. 

And you kept imagining it. He'd come inside you hundreds of times. Thousands of times. Countless times. Even since November, he'd put his Grade A sperm inside you more times than you could possibly keep track of.

So, this was your fault. And now you knew it. You tried for hours to think about work or your friends or even the fact that you should have been able to go to brunch this morning to gush about your promotion banquet. But everything was turning to shit now. It was probably time to think about alternate options. Or consider just giving up completely. 

But why should Bradley have to give up his dream of being a dad just because you weren't able to give him what he wanted? You couldn't be that selfish. As sleep overtook you, disturbing and hurtful ideas filled your mind. You were vaguely aware of Bradley in the room as the afternoon light got dimmer. You could hear him put something in your nightstand. You heard the zipper on his duffle. But you couldn't open your eyes through the haze of pain and exhaustion. 

When you jerked awake in your pitch black bedroom, you heard Bradley's voice next to you. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?" 

You reached for your phone. It was after eleven o'clock. He'd plugged it in for you. He must have gotten himself dinner and taken Tramp out and finished packing for his deployment. 

And then your heart sank as you reached for him. Bradley laced his fingers with yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut at how good it felt to simply hold his hand. 

"I don't know," you whispered, because you weren't really sure. Bradley brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers. You sighed against the sensation of his mustache on your body. You wanted to keep this feeling alive. This little glimmer of hope. But you muttered, "It's late. Go to sleep," as you withdrew your hand and rolled onto your side.

He was silent for so long, you weren't sure if he was still awake. Finally he said, "I hate leaving you more than I hate anything else. But we'll figure this out. I love you."

But instead of responding, you let him doze. When you both woke up at five to the sound of his alarm blaring, there were several feet of space between your body and his in the king sized bed. You felt like absolute shit. It was hard to breathe as you watched Bradley climb out of bed and head for the bathroom. You knew everything he was going to do: shower, shave around his mustache, apply deodorant. But you didn't want to see it. You went into the kitchen where you had all of the ingredients to make him heart shaped pancakes and strawberries. But you didn't want to make them. 

Instead you made some French press coffee and cried softly. You took a few sips and felt like you were going to throw up. You tried to eat a granola bar, but you gagged. You had forty one minutes until the Admirals would start calling everyone aboard the aircraft carrier. Less than an hour until your husband would be away for two months. But even when he cautiously walked into the kitchen in his uniform with his duffle bag, you still couldn't quite formulate what you wanted to say to him.

Because maybe he was right. Maybe you and he needed to spend some time apart. You hated yourself and your body, so how did you expect him to love you right now? And you resented him for the decisions he was making and the things he was saying to you. It felt like he didn't understand how it feels to be you. And then you laughed darkly, because of course he didn't. And you were doing a shitty job of describing it to him. A horrible job of communicating with him in general.

"Let's go," you said, heading for the front door in the old lounge pants and shirt you'd slept in. You felt disgusting, so you might as well just look disgusting, too. 

But he headed you off, keeping his hand on the doorknob so you couldn't turn it. "I can't go until I know you're listening to what I have to say."

"What?" you snapped, because that was just a lie. He'd be leaving shortly even if you refused to listen or drive him there. That was just a fact. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your night. I didn't mean to hide the test results from you."

"But you did," you whispered harshly. "On both accounts."

"I know," he said solemnly, reaching for you before dropping his hand to his side. "And I'm sick over it. But this doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you or that I'm perfect. And we can keep trying as soon as I get home, okay?"

"If I even feel like it," you sobbed, pushing his hand out of the way and wrenching the door open. "If you even want to. If you can even stay hard for me." 

"Sweetheart!" he called out, running after you as you got into the driver's seat of your car. You'd drop him off in this one instead of the Bronco, just because it would irritate him. 

You were turning the key and shifting into reverse before he even had his door closed. You wanted him gone. Now. You needed the silence of the house without him in it. Keeping your tears at bay was impossible, but at least the drive was quiet. Bradley had his hand over his eyes, and his head was tipped back. You saw the way his Adam's apple worked against his neck as he swallowed hard, but you didn't say anything to ease his mind. If you had to feel bad, then so did he. 

You made it to the docks in just a few minutes, and you were out of the car right away. You saw Bob and Nat on the dock, waving and waiting for the two of you, but you just couldn't go over there. You didn't want to see them or have to explain why the two of you were miserable. 

As you turned to face your husband, you were shaking with tears, and so was he. There was just a foot of space between you, but you hesitated. And it was clear to him that you didn't know what to do. So he just stood there and wiped at his eyes, shaking his head.

"This is not how I wanted to leave things between us," he rasped, and you looked down at the ground. He was the one who kept telling you he wanted to talk, but you kept shutting him out. 

When you opened your mouth to try to tell him that you still loved him, he held up his hand to stop you.

"You deserved more than what I gave you, okay?" he whispered, and your tears just came faster. "You deserved the world, and clearly I wasn't delivering on all of my promises. At the end of the day, if I'm the one responsible for all of your tears, then what fucking good am I as your husband?"

"Bradley," you croaked, sucking in a deep breath. 

But he just kept going, even though whistles were blowing and his squadron was being called. "I love you so much. I'm always going to. And I'm sorry I'm leaving you like this. I should have tried harder, because you are everything."

Your heart was breaking as he wrapped one big hand around the back of your neck and kissed your forehead. You tried to say his name again, but nothing would come out except a wretched sounding sob. So you reached for him and kissed his lips softly. But then he was pulling away, and you felt bile in your throat. 

"I love you." Your voice was so soft and broken, you weren't sure if he heard you. As he joined Nat and Bob, you cried next to your car, overwhelmed by the feeling of finality. You stayed until he boarded the carrier, but then you climbed behind the steering wheel again. You needed to go to work. You needed to go home and change first. When you tried to start the engine, your fingers fumbled the keys. After three tries you screamed and pounded on the steering wheel with your fists. 

Your heart was broken, and now you had nothing to show for it except some bruised hands. But as you finally got the car started and headed home, you thought to yourself that at least your day couldn't get worse. 

That was just wishful thinking on your part. As soon as you walked inside your bedroom with the intention of taking a hot shower, your eyes caught on something gold on Bradley's nightstand. He had left his wedding band. He never took it off. You couldn't recall a single time he had removed it since you slipped it on his finger last November. 

It was cold to the touch when you picked it up. It was supposed to feel warm from being on his finger. You wanted to call him and demand an answer as to why he was going away on a deployment without his wedding band, but you were too scared to hear the answer. And as his words came flooding back, you climbed into bed with the ring held tight in your sore fist. 

You deserved more than what I gave you.

Bradley deserved more, too.

----------------------------

Well. Now they are both on their own for two months. And I hurt my own feelings. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

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[topgun-imagines]

Happy anniversary!!! Really looking forward to your future writing! :)

🍓 + Jake

Thank you Lovely!! :)

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Squirt Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake is determined to make you feel things like you've never felt before. warnings: unprotected sex, daddy kink. @topguncortez

In The Night Jake Seresin x Wife!Reader | Jake helps you live out one of your sexual fantasies. warnings: CNC, usage of sleeping pills (melatonin), talks of safe words, vaginal fingering, oral sex (F) receiving. @topguncortez

Floydsin As Dad's Jake Seresin x Bob Floyd | warnings: pregnancy, mentions of needles, mentions of vomiting, mentions of failed adoptions, labor. @topguncortez

Undiagnosed Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out. General Warnings: Angst, smut, asshole parents, trauma response, Jake is a jerk at first. @callsign-magnolia

You Might Want To Step Aside two times your boyfriend and twin brother had to stand up for you, and the one time you shocked them by doing it yourself. warnings: anxiety, shy reader, protective Hangman, protective Bob, insecure reader, self doubt. @awaywith-thefaeries

Roughing It Jake Seresin begged you, his best friend to go camping with him and Bradley Bradshaw—but not for the innocent reasons you might think. A simple camping trip turns into something much more unholy. Callsign— Giggles Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!Reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader. Unprotected sex. Male receiving oral. Choking. MxMxF Threesome. Creampie. Obvious power dynamics. @ohtobeleah

Always A Bridesmaid Bradley tells all the guys at his wedding that his little sister is off limits… But when has Jake ever listened to Rooster? Warnings: a teeny bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, drinking, smut, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected pinv, slight overstimulation, age gap (not really specified but reader is around 23-24 yrs old, jake is in his early 30s), jake being too damn charming for his own good, rooster being a very overprotective big brother, jake being a menace, and natasha being the best sister-in-law, for the sake of this story we’re gonna pretend that Goose died a few years later than what is canon to explain how Bradley has a sister that’s 10+ years younger than him lol @sugarcoated-lame

Middle Of A Memory Jake Seresin was an asshole, everyone knew it. He flew with confidence and held a cocky smirk. Behind every cocky smirk and snark remark was you, built into his memories, memories he always lived in. Warnings: 18+,mentions of alcohol, mentions of flying accidents, mentions of death, swearing, angst and of course fluff. @sunnysidevans

Who Did This To You? In your most vulnerable hour, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. “Who did this to you?” Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you’ aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.) @justfandomwritings

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