#top gun maverick vinyl

[novastories]

I got this beauty after I went to go watch Devotion.

Devotion movie: 10/10, bring tissues, but also Glen Powell…that’s all I’ll say 😍🫡

@reginleight and I were the only ones in the theater so it was even extra fun! 💛

[indig0-constellations]

Favorite head cannon for Ice is that he is the biggest Rush fan, like die hard-can name the order of each song off every album and will unleash every interesting fact he knows when he ingests the smallest amount of alcohol

[princessmisery666]

Live In My Memory, You'll Always Be There.

Summary: Not long after moving to San Diego with your fiancé, Jake, he’s declared missing in action. The Dagger Squad rallies around you as you grieve his loss, and you grow closer to one particular member of the team than you ever imagined.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, character death mentioned, grief, fluff, unexpected love, smut, loss of parents (mentioned).  

W/C: 6.3k - too many to be the drabble it was supposed to be. 

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, female reader (no use of Y/N), Dagger Squad.

Pairing: Rooster x female reader (you - no use of Y/N, no descriptions of body type or ethnicity). Hangman x female reader.

Notes: No use of Y/N, but the reader has nicknames. Inspired by Pearl Harbor. 

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld sent me the title for the made-up fic titles. Thank you!!

Betas: the wonderful @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: made by me.

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

Live in My Memory, You'll Always Be There

A bang stirs Bradley from his sleep, but he doesn’t move, unsure if he’s dreaming. A growl of thunder rumbles in the distance, and he wonders if that’s what woke him.

He rolls onto his back, pushing the sheet down to his waist, seeking the cooler air of the room.

A second louder knock sounds. He jumps from his bed and rushes out of the room as the rain grows heavier, pelting the windows.

It can’t be work-related. The navy would have called, not sent someone to get him.

He flicks on the light in the hallway, interrupting the urgent insistence of the third knock. Bradley scrambles to unlock the door, finally pulling it open as a flash of lighting breaks across the sky. 

You stand a few steps off his porch, rain-soaked clothes and hair clinging to your skin, but it doesn’t hide the agony behind your tears. 

“I …I,” you hiccup, chin shaking, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

The water dripping from you seems to drag your remaining strength with it, and your legs buckle. Bradley leaps toward you, but he’s too late. You're in a heap on the ground.

He cradles you, rocking back and forth while your throat-scratching roars of pain nearly rival the storm’s rage.

“They announced it,” you stutter, voice shaking, “officially declared it. Jake’s gone.”

Bradley doesn’t tell you it will be okay. He doesn’t promise you that one day it will be. It won’t ever be the same again.

No one truly understands loss until it happens to them. Jake’s officially been missing in action, declared dead, for six months. Search and rescue had found debris from his jet but no body. They made assumptions, but the truth was they had no idea. 

His family held a funeral, a coffin filled with memories. You couldn’t bring yourself to put your engagement ring beside the vinyl record of the song that became yours, the catalyst of your relationship. They’d buried the mementos, but you couldn’t bury him. Not completely.

It was a beautiful send-off, held in Fightertown, like Jake would have wanted, and Penny gracefully offered up The Hard Deck for the wake.

Jake was everywhere in that place, his name on top of all the scoreboards, pictures scattered around the walls from different occasions; birthdays, promotions, retirements, a Thanksgiving that he couldn’t make it home.

Jake had always said there was no family like a found family. But you hadn’t realized the depth of his words until recently. Understandably, you’ve been a wreck, inconsolable at times, but you’ve barely been alone since he’s been gone. The Dagger squad adopted you as one of their own, though they hadn’t known you very long before Jake’s untimely demise. 

You feel close to Jake here, but it is also suffocating, knowing the memories will never be added to, that the life you planned to live with him in San Diego is no more.

You leave his parents to be gracious hosts and find a quiet spot by the ocean. 

Is Jake still out there? Hurt and alone in some foreign land while people are reminiscing about him. It’s possible, right?

You hear his footsteps disrupting the sand before Rooster appears at your side, dropping to the ground next to you. You glance over to see his jacket open, shirt unbuttoned, and a slight glassy shine to his eyes. You’d seen him doing shots with Coyote earlier. If anyone feels the loss as much as you, it’s Coyote.

“Stupid question time,” Rooster sing-songs in a game-show host voice. “How you doin’?”

“Can I give you a stupid answer?” you ask. 

“As long as you give me a truthful one after,” he says, handing over his bottle of beer.

“Like I’m about to kill the next person who tells me Jake’s in a better place,” you admit, taking a drink.

“We all know Jake wasn’t the nicest guy.” Bradley says, nudging you with his shoulder, “Except when it comes to you. If he’s anywhere, he’s making plans with the Devil to open a flying school in Hell.”

Your unexpected laughter shoots beer out of your mouth. Rooster scolds you, “Hey, hey,” taking back the bottle, “don’t be wasting perfectly good alcohol, woman!”

You laugh together for a moment, and when it naturally teeters off, silence descends.

Bradley has been a constant for you in the weeks since Jake has been gone. He’s close friends with grief. He understands it more than most. You are old friends with it, too, having lost your parents, but you never felt like an orphan. Jake’s family treated you as one of their own.

“Can I ask you something?” Bradley asks, interrupting your thoughts as he shifts in the sand. 

“Another stupid question?”

He turns his head to look at you, and his expression is sobering. “A serious one,” he takes a deep breath, “why did you come to me that day? The day they announced it, why me?”

“Coyote was the one to break the news to me, to tell me Jake was missing in action. I think he felt like it was his duty, but he couldn’t face me after that.” You sigh at the memory, hurting just as much for Coyote as yourself. “I think he blamed himself because he was supposed to be with Jake that day, but his jet had some technical fault. The rest of you took turns to ensure I was never alone. Did you work out some kind of rota?”

He chuckles, confirming, “Phoenix’s idea.” 

“Fanboy and Payback tried to distract me with movies, tv shows, magazines, anything but talk about Jake. Bob and Phoenix kept me busy, made sure I was taking care of myself, and helped me with laundry, grocery shopping, and cooking. I guess you got the short straw because you were always on your own,” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. 

He shakes his head, “I made sure it was just us. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people and still feel alone. I wanted to save you from that.” 

“And you did. You are the only one who didn’t say stuff that you're supposed to say. You made jokes like the one you just made. You were honest and understanding. You asked me what I needed. Whenever I said nothing, you’d hug me and just let me be. That’s why most nights I cried myself to sleep on you.” 

He says nothing but shuffles over in the sand to put his arm around your shoulders.

You rest your head on him, “With you, I never had to put on a brave face and pretend I wasn’t delusional that I still had some hope he’d come back. I never had to fake it that I wasn’t angry at Jake for leaving me.”

“You never have to pretend anything with me,” he says, kissing your head gently.

It’s a beautiful balmy day. The Bronco is freshly washed and gleaming in the golden sunlight, a cooler full of snacks secured in the back. Bradley, being the seasoned road-tripper that he is, has created an award-worthy playlist. He won’t tell you anything about the surprise he has planned, but a smile has been plastered on his face since he knocked on your door. He’s singing along with the current tune and looks like something out of a beer commercial with his Aviators, bronzed skin, and slight sheen of sweat. 

You stop for lunch at a diner on the edge of the Mojave desert, and you laugh harder than you have for a long time when Bradley tells the story of his disastrous first date. The combined laughter and Bradley’s slight embarrassment help you ignore the flutter of nervous butterflies that vie for attention when a fleeting thought that perhaps, in another lifetime, this could be classified as a date and not just Rooster trying to distract you from the significance of the day's date.

The reminder makes you pause. Should you be laughing as much as you are when today should have been your wedding day? 

You drop your eyes from Bradley’s when he reaches across the table for your hand and squeezes it tightly. He must have seen the guilt you feel in your expression. “Jake would want you to be happy.”

“I know.” 

“Actually, he’d make some cocky comment about you settling for less ‘cause there’s no one like him,” Rooster rolls his eyes, “but he’d want you to be happy, not clinging onto the past.” 

You laugh, “Y’know, for someone who wasn’t Jake’s biggest fan, you sure know him pretty well.”

“I’m just observant,” Bradley defends with a jesting tone. “I wasn’t obsessed with him or anything.” 

“I mean, no one would blame you,” you laugh, “he was a good-looking guy.” 

The realization hits you like a slap to the face, and you abruptly cut off your laughter covering your mouth with your hand. You’d referred to Jake in the past tense.

You thought you still had a sliver of hope that Jake would return with that smug smile and a wild tale of survival. It was why you remained in Fightertown, or so you told yourself, but perhaps hope isn’t the only reason you have begun to think of San Diego as home. 

The sympathy in Bradley’s eyes makes your chest ache, and with a featherlight touch, he takes your hand again, stroking your finger, where until a few days ago, your engagement ring had lived. 

“You took it off,” he notices.

“It was time,” you say, feeling the sorrow wash through you, “at least I thought it was,” you shrug, smiling mirthlessly as a warm tear lands on your cheek. 

Smiling softly, Bradley swipes it away. “It doesn’t mean you stopped loving him, but the promises you were prepared to make don’t matter anymore now that he’s gone. You can’t keep holding onto a future you have no hope of living in. Believe me, I tried, and it kills you a little bit more each day.”

A day hasn’t passed that you haven’t thought about Jake, an unwanted memory resurfacing at the worst time, or a fantasy of a lost future playing out while you were supposed to be focused on something else. It happens when you least expect it. Like now, something creeps into your subconscious, and then it’s all you can hear - a song, the song that started your relationship with Jake. 

“Can we leave?” You ask, forcing a smile to your lips. 

Rooster watches you for a second and then shakes his head. “Running from it doesn’t help,” he says.

“This song,” you sigh, “is the reason me and Jake got together.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t-” you choke, taking a breath in an attempt to stop the memory from playing out in your mind, but all it does is steal your ability to breathe. It’s too difficult to remember a time when Jake was so young, full of life, and had a future.

“Breeze,” Bradley soothes, gently lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Breathe with me.” He takes a deep breath, his chest puffing, and slowly releases it when you follow his lead. “Don’t run from it. Embrace it, feel it.”

If I lay here, if I just lay here. Would you lay with me and just forget the world - the song continues, and you take a second to let the emotion wash through you before you explain.

“I don’t know how much Jake told you, but me and his twin sister, Jules, were best friends. Still are.” you correct quickly. Just because you've lost Jake doesn't mean you’ve lost your family. “We lived across the street our whole lives, went to the same schools, then my parents died two weeks before I started college. I had to identify their bodies because we had no other family. Jules was with me the entire time. Before I even had a chance to figure out what would happen to me, the Seresins had already arranged for me to stay with them.”

“So you lived with Jake before you were together?” Rooster asks. “And you still dated him?” 

You laugh along with him. “It most certainly wasn’t love at first sight. But the first spring break of college, we saw each other again, and things kinda happened organically,” you explain, getting lost in the memory of how your relationship with Jake started.

It was soon to be Mrs. Seresin’s 50th birthday, and a party was to be had, much to the dismay of the older siblings. Jules and Jake had complained their first spring break should be spent letting loose with friends and doing what college kids do. Jacob Senior had given one stern speech, and no more complaints had been made.

The Seresin house was always a lively one. Returning from college for Spring Break, you’d expected nothing less. Except the place was dead silent when you left your room after your shower.

“Hello?” you call out, walking to the kitchen. 

A note on the island counter informs you that Jackie and Jacob were out finalizing party arrangements and then meeting friends for dinner. Jenny, the youngest Seresin, was at the mall and then going to a sleepover. You already knew Jules was with Harvey and not likely to be home until tomorrow, seeing as they hadn’t seen each other for a while. Jake was always coming and going, so you ignored his absence.

Peace and quiet were just what you needed. You had a paper due three days after spring break, and you weren’t about to leave it until the last minute and then stress about getting it done.

Bringing a snack and a soda to your room, you left the door open, letting the air flow through while you worked on your paper. You were in the thick of it, fingers flowing across your keyboard, feeling good about the words pouring onto the page.

“S’up, Jellybean.” 

“Geez, Jake!” you jumped, twisting in your chair with your hand over your heart. “Lurk much.”

He laughed, resting against the door frame. Winking, he said, “Though there are better ways to do it, I like getting your pulse racing.” 

His teasing was nothing new, but something in his demeanor pointed toward it being more than friendly banter. College had been good for him, mentally and physically. Being away from the tyrant that was Jacob Senior had done him the world of good. Though he never lacked self-assurance, he now radiated confidence. Well-defined muscles and bulkier physic were an obvious payoff of what must have been many hours in the gym. 

Your eyes dragged down his naked torso, watching as a bead of sweat trickled into the waistband of his shorts. You caught yourself before any drool escaped and feigned nonchalance rolling your eyes and turning back to your computer.

“Please tell me you're not studying!” He leaned over your shoulder, looking at your screen before you could reply. “You do know it’s Spring Break, right?”

“Some of us need to study,” you said, “we can’t all just wing it and still get top grades.” 

Jackie had bragged at dinner last night about Jake being top of his class like anyone had expected anything less.

“You're the smartest person I know,” he countered.

Something had changed. You felt the shift almost immediately upon seeing Jake for the first time in seven months after you’d arrived home. He’d been looking at you differently, like he was now, a softness to his eyes as if he’s trying to say more than his words. 

You cleared your throat and turned away. “With the company you keep, that’s not the compliment you think it is,” you chuckled. 

“Okay,” he laughed, “you got me there. I set the bar too low, but you know what I mean. You need to take a break, let loose, and have some fun.”

“I have fun,” you sneered, “when I don’t have a ten thousand-word essay due in less than two weeks.”

“Okay, you twisted my arm,” Jake said, “I’ll help you, but on one condition.” 

“I don’t need help.” 

He ignored you, turning on the radio and cranking the volume while Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol played. “Dance with me,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you out of the chair.

You followed to the middle of the room with minimal complaint and let him pull you into a dancer’s stance. “You're all sweaty,” you whined, feeling his sticky chest pressed against your thin tank top.

“Sorry,” he laughed but leaned closer to press his cheek to yours. “Went for a run before Dad could start in on the lectures.”

You felt for him. Nothing Jake ever did was good enough. “You know his Navy buddies are coming to the party, right?”

He sighed heavily as he swayed you both to the beat. “I know. I’ve been warned to be on my best behavior. He’s already got my future carved in stone.”

You'd been unsure how to help him, though you desperately wished you could. “It’s not all that bad. You’ll look good in dress whites.”

He spun you away from him, and an incredulous but teasing look cocked his brow. “Please, I will look amazing in dress whites.”

You rolled your eyes as he tugged you back in close and slipped his arms around your waist this time, and you wrapped yours around his neck. The dance continued in contemplative silence until the end of the song.

Still holding you, Jake pulled back to look into your eyes, an earnest vulnerability in his, “You’ll come to visit me wherever I end up, right?”

“Just try and stop me.” 

“After that, we pretty much spent the whole break together, just hanging out and talking, so obviously, my paper was late,” you remember, smiling fondly. “Then the same song came on at the party. He sought me out and took me to the dance floor. When the song finished, he kissed me for the first time in front of everyone.”

“Smooth bastard,” Rooster compliments. 

You laugh. “Jackie was ecstatic, practically in tears. She said everyone always knew we’d end up together.”

“And you did,” Bradley reminds you, “it may not have been the forever you planned on, but it was the time you had that counts, right?” 

You swipe the tears off your cheek, “Okay, enough sad stuff. I thought today was about forgetting.” 

“Damn it, my plan has been foiled.” he rolls his eyes as if it’s the most inconvenient thing but reaches over to catch another tear. “Was it at least working?”

“It was,” you say, “and I’m sure you can make me forget again.”

You pull into the hanger, and it becomes clear what the day's activity is. You take the hand Bradley offers to help you out of the Bronco, and he holds yours so delicately that butterflies dance up to your throat.

“You know I’m afraid of flying, right?” you remind him, taking in the sight of the P-51. 

He does know. It has been a running joke amongst the Dagger squad. The self-proclaimed king of the sky, Jake Seresin’s fiance, is afraid of flying. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, with such a sincere smile you’d lie even if the answer were no just to keep that smile on his face.

“Yes.” 

“It’s a short flight,” he says, “and I won’t do any crazy loops or anything.” 

You chuckle but give him a skeptical look. “Hilarious.”

“I got you, Breeze,” he promises. 

He does have you, and he’s proven that more than once in the last few months. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you call me that?” you ask, holding down your skirt as you climb into the cockpit of the aircraft. 

He’d given you the call sign a few weeks after meeting you but never told you why. Jake had claimed he knew but said it was a sacred thing and that the person who bestowed it upon you had to be the one to explain why. It also felt fitting that Rooster had been the one to dub Jake, Hangman. 

“I will,” Bradley shrugs, “when I think you’re ready to hear it,” giving you a bashful grin as he climbs into the seat in front of you.

The flight itself is uneventful, but the sensation is exhilarating. Bradley only speaks a few times to make sure you’re okay and ask if he can tilt the plane to show you the sights below, deep canyons and big horned sheep.

“Okay,” Bradley’s voice crackles through your headset. “I’m gonna set her down.” 

“What! Here?” 

You are still in the middle of the desert, cliff tops and canyons as far as the eye can see. No runway or landing strip unless he plans to land on I-40. 

“Trust me,” he says.

The plane bounces once, kicking up red dust and rolling to a stop. “Wasn’t sure I could pull that off,” he jokes, shutting off the engine.

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He helps you out of the cockpit and onto the wing, turning to help you again when he’s on the ground. You sit on the wing, shuffling to the edge, and Rooster holds his arms out, ready to catch you.

“Don’t let me fall,” you say. 

His smile falters for a brief second, but he promises, “Never.” 

You jump, and he catches you, arms wrapping around your waist as he stumbles back a step. You pull him against you, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he relaxes into you.

Now that you’re on the ground, you can see the makeshift runway that’s been trodden down over time.

“As much as I’d love to stay like this,” Bradley whispers, exhaling the regret from his tone, “we’re going to miss it if we don’t get going.” 

There’s no point in asking what it is. He won't tell you, so you wait for him to reach into the cockpit, take out a backpack and then lead the way up a slim path.

It isn’t far to walk, but you’re out of breath by the time you reach what you hope is the top of the mountain. Bradley sets down an old green-colored blanket, handing you a bottle of water once you’re comfortable.

“Mav used to bring me here,” Rooster explains, breaking a long silence. You turn to look at him, but he’s gazing out across the vast desert. “Before I could fly myself, he’d bring me here, and we’d just sit and watch that.” He points toward the horizon. Your eyes follow his finger, and the sight steals your breath. 

The very edge of the sun touches the horizon, and the sky explodes into an oil painting of pinks and oranges that look close enough to touch.

“I always feel closer to my Dad here.” he twists to look at you, and you reluctantly drag your focus from the sunset to him. “Sometimes, I pretend he’s the one in control of the sunset, to remind me that I made it through another day without him.” He shrugs, smiling mirthlessly, “I come here a lot to talk to him. It helps me figure stuff out.”

Lifting his arm, you shuffle closer to him. He gently kisses your hair as you rest your head on his collarbone, his arm slipping around your shoulders.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“I, um,” he clears his throat, an excuse to give himself a moment to contemplate how to say what he needs to. “I have ulterior motives,” he confesses, but his fix on the sunset remains steadfast when you lift your head again. “And I thought it might soften the blow.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, and seems shocked when you slip your hand beneath his.

You grip his hand tight, encouraging him. “Just tell me.”

He stares earnestly into your eyes, and you see the sorrow behind them before he softly says, “I was supposed to be with Jake that day.” Confusion pulls your brow tight, and he interprets it as you needing further explanation. “When Coyote’s jet was grounded, they asked me to accompany Jake instead. We had a stupid argument that morning, and it wasn’t a direct order, so I told them no, that Jake could handle it on his own. Jake got this smug look like he thought I was afraid or something, and I had the thought that hopefully, soon, karma would catch up to him and take him down a peg or two.”

You chuckle, “Sounds like Jake.”

“Breeze,” he protests, “I should’ve been with him.”

You swallow down the lump of emotion, imagining losing Jake and Bradley. You certainly wouldn’t have survived the loss of Jake without Bradley. The emotional trauma of neither of them being in your life is fathomless. “Then I would’ve lost you both.”

“Or I could’ve done something, brought him back to you.”

“Don’t do that,” you warn. “You have nothing to feel guilty for, Bradley. You don’t know what happened. You don’t know that you could have helped him. And maybe in some weird way, you have helped him.”

It’s his turn to look confused, and you smile lightly.

“You’ve helped me survive losing Jake, helped me see that there are still beautiful sunsets to be seen and a life to live, and you didn’t need to bring me here to do that, Rooster. You’ve shown me every day for the last few months. Jake is with me every day, he’s alive in my memory and will always be there, but you’ve shown me that I can keep moving forward. Some days you’ve been the only thing to keep me moving.”

You can’t bring yourself to look directly at him for fear he’ll see right through you. In your mind, it’s too soon to fall for someone else, but there’s no doubt in your heart that you are in love with Bradley Bradshaw. A part of you worries that it's a reaction to your grief, yet it doesn’t feel like a reaction. It feels right.

“Breeze, look at me.”

You're uncertain if it's pity or understanding in his tone, but either way, you don’t do as he asked. You’ve lost enough. You can’t bear to lose Bradley too.

He decides for you, gripping your chin with his fingers, gentle yet assertive, guiding your head upward to meet his eyes.

You expect him to say something profoundly sweet, but he sighs, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to you.”

You don’t want to, but you should put some distance between you. Apparently sensing your withdrawal, he acts before you can move so much as a millimeter, his breath mixing with your own.

“Should I stop?” he whispers against your lips. 

“No.” You move in and make the connection he seems reluctant to, lips tentatively meeting, hesitant to linger for too long.

Bradley pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours, “If this is weird for you…” he trails off. 

“It’s not,” you say with certainty. “Is it for you?”

“No.” His hand squeezes your hip. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you,” he confesses and pecks your lips again. “And that sounds awful ‘cause you were with Jake, but…” 

You press a finger to his lips to silence him, leaning back to look at him. “I get it. I’ve wanted to do it for a long time too.”

He’s not so hesitant this time, dipping to kiss you again. It’s tender and sweet, how a first kiss should be. You feel giddy with anticipation of something new and unexpected, but simultaneously it somehow feels familiar. Breathlessly, you both pull apart.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern written all over his face.

“Yes, no,” you shake your head. “Yes. I just…are we crazy?”

He shrugs, “Maybe. But I’m okay with being a little crazy.” 

You laugh and drop your gaze, taking a deep breath. 

“Breeze,” he says softly. “There’s no pressure here. We can pretend it never happened and go back to being friends if that’s what you want.” 

You frown, slightly offended at his suggestion. Yes, you’re friends, but now there’s something deeper - a connection you can’t quite explain. “No, that's not what I want. It’s all a little overwhelming, but I know, without a doubt, I want this. I want you.” 

He smiles sheepishly. “Okay, but I need to know it’s more than a way to forget. I need it to be more than that.”

“It is. It’s so much more than that. It feels…” You're not sure how to describe it, but Rooster finds the word for you. 

“Right.”

The beautiful scenery is forgotten, and all you focus on is each other, the anticipation and excitement of exploring something new. You exchange timid kisses and tender caresses. Rooster leans over you, gently laying you flat to hover above you.

“It’s gonna get cold soon,” he worries, “wanna head back?” 

You shake your head, “Can we stay a while?”

He answers with an eager kiss. His lips are soft, and you hum with satisfaction when his tongue traces yours, seeking permission to deepen it.

He groans at the inviting warmth of your mouth, and your tongues meet, settling into a slow natural rhythm.

He releases you long enough for you to pull his shirt off and growls into your mouth when your nails scrape his stomach and back. Bradley is still cautious but follows your lead, letting his hands explore your body, groping and kneading your breasts through your shirt.

Now that you’ve accepted your feelings and given yourself and Bradley permission to pursue this new aspect of your relationship, a sense of urgency takes over. You need to feel him everywhere. Turning onto your side, you throw your leg over him and use him as leverage to pull yourself closer. You can feel all of him now, and it stokes the flame of your desire.

You roll your hips to rub yourself against his stiff cock. The friction of his jeans against your core is frustratingly not enough. You reach down between your bodies, rubbing over his shaft before popping the button on his jeans. 

Bradley breaks the kiss, panting to catch his breath, and pulls back enough to be able to look into your eyes. 

“We don’t have to,” you say, suddenly slightly embarrassed. “Not here if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to,” he says, “but are you sure this is the right time?”

“Yes. I don’t want to wait any longer. Where has waiting ever gotten us?” You ask bitterly. Waiting is a waste of time and makes the future even more uncertain. You don’t want to wait and miss out on something wonderful. “Let’s make this the right time for us.”

He kisses you again, gripping your hip, tugging you with him as he rolls onto his back, an invitation to straddle his lap that you accept willingly. 

You both get in each other’s way, trying to unfasten his jeans. Until Bradley decides he’d rather be touching you, he pushes your panties to the side to slip his fingers through your folds, coating his fingers in your slick before he breaches your entrance with two, his thumb circles your clit, and you feel the pressure already building.

It’s clumsy and awkward, but he lifts up enough for you to shuffle his pants off his hips while pumping his fingers inside you, pushing as deep as he can go and rubbing your pulsing clit.

“Are you sure about this?” he pants, “I can stop.”

In answer, your walls clench, and you twitch through your orgasm. “Don’t stop.”

You're empty for a matter of seconds before his cock replaces his fingers, and you slide down his length, both groaning out the gratification of a complete connection. 

Stones dig into your knees through the flimsy blanket, but it barely registers when Bradley starts to move - slowly at first, rolling his hips to help you stretch to his size. He takes hold of your sides, and you lift and push back against his thrusts. The rhythm gets harder and faster with every snap of hips, and your whimpers and whines drown out Bradley’s grunts and moans.

“Oh shit.” Shuddering, you bite down on Bradley’s shoulder as you come for a second time. It spurs him on, his movements becoming desperate as he chases his end. 

He wraps a hand under your jaw and holds your head up to look at him. “You got one more in you?” he asks, and you nod. “Then, come with me.” 

Slipping your hand between your bodies to tease your clit, the coil tightens again as Bradley pounds into you. He claims your mouth as his movements stutter, and with one last powerful thrust, your walls clamp around him as he ruts his release inside you.

Bradley can’t stop smiling. It’s not just the residual endorphins coursing through him after a particularly intense orgasm. It’s you, leaning against the Bronco, smiling, almost shyly, back at him.

“Did you plan this, Mr. Bradshaw?” you tease, eyeing him suspiciously as he removes his soiled pants.

“The sex, no,” he says with a smug chuckle, pulling on a clean pair of jeans. “If the moment presented itself,”  he admits, stepping into your space and pinning you between him and the truck, “I promised myself I’d kiss you.”

He fulfills the promise again, kissing you breathless and only pulling away when your phone rings. 

Bradley curses the interruption, reaching into the car to pick it up. “Phoenix,” he says, reading the Caller I.D. and handing it over.

He watches as your thumb hovers over the answer button. You’ve never been able to lie very well, and you're probably worried Phoenix will be able to hear the change in your voice and figure out what happened.

You decline the call and smile up at him. “I wanna stay in the bubble a while longer,” you confess, “we can tell them when we get back.” 

“Fine by me,” he agrees, delivering a swift kiss as his phone starts ringing. He shrugs it off, declining the call, “Bob. They're probably wondering where we are and if we’re gonna make it to quiz night.”

“Not sure we will,” you say, checking your watch. 

“We’ll definitely miss the quiz,” he nods, “but I can probably get us back for last-call.” 

“Show me what you got, Bradshaw,” you wink.

Bradley breaks the speed limit a few times on the way home, but true to his word, you make it with fifteen minutes to spare before Penny usually calls for the last orders. 

The happy haze of the day still lingers, and you don’t want it dampened by a crowded bar and a possible scene. You’ve discussed telling the team, but neither of you is sure how they’ll react to the news, though you both acknowledge neither of you has been subtle in trying to hide your feelings. Bradley doesn’t want to lie to them, and you agree, but you also don’t want to deliver the news with an audience of strangers.

“You sure you wanna do this tonight?” Bradley asks, kissing you softly, still tucked up in the safety of the Bronco.

“We have to,” you say. “It’ll be worse if they catch us.” 

“You say that like we’re doing something wrong.” 

“We’re not, but if they find out some other way, they’ll think we think we're doing something wrong.” 

He nods, “I’ll go get them and some drinks. Meet you on the beach in five?”

The kiss is sweet and tender and lasts long enough that you're bordering on being caught if someone walks by. Reluctantly you part ways. 

Bradley’s barely in the door before Phoenix and Bob are in his face. 

“Where have you been?” Phoenix asks, blocking his path to the bar. 

“We’ve been calling you,” Bob says. “Is Breeze with you?”

Rooster’s guilty tell-all smile takes on a life of its own, and he can’t contain it until Phoenix scolds him with a look.  

“What?” Bradley asks.

“Oh, shit, Rooster, you didn’t,” Phoenix sighs.

“Didn’t what?”

“You know what!” she grits, “You and Breeze.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, trying to step around them.  

Phoenix blocks him again, a firm hand on his chest. “Hangman’s back.”

It’s late, and the beach is quiet. You stand staring out at the ocean, enjoying the calm before everything potentially blows up. 

It’s a siren call, it has to be that or your slight guilt playing tricks on you, but you hear it, Jake calling your name.

“Jellybean!” he calls, and it grows in urgency the closer it gets. You realize it’s not coming from the ocean but behind you, and you spin around. 

Jake runs toward you, thinner and not as toned as he once was, but there’s no mistaking that it's him, flanked by Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback.

He crashes into you, caging you in his arms, but you're too shocked to react, barely bringing your arms up to hug him back before he pulls away to look at you. 

“Jake.” 

“It’s really me, baby,” he says, “I’m back. I went home, but they said you’d stayed here.” His smile grows wide and watery, “You didn’t give up on me. You knew I’d come back. That’s why you stayed. I fought to get back to you, and you waited for me.”

“Jake,” you gasp, “you’re here,” tears laced with shock, relief, and guilt pool in your eyes.

“I couldn’t miss our wedding daycould I?” Jake smirks.

The back door to The Hard Deck bursts open, and you watch as Rooster frantically searches the beach for you. He finds you, looking as shocked as you feel, and before you know what's happening, Jake cups your face and draws you to his lips.

Look a handy reblog button. Reblogs are the fuel creators need to continue creating.

A/N: I do have plans for part 2 but the muses aren't complying at the moment so for now, this is a one-shot. Who would you want to end up with? Rooster or Hangman?

Tags // Info

@alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog/ @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @genius2050 / @kmc1989 / @emorychase

Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms

[lieutenantfloyd]

Lieutenantfloyd's Masterlist

So, it's finally time for me to an accessible on both mobile and desktop. I know many people (myself included) prefer to read on mobile devices, so this will allow that to be done a whole lot easier. This will replace my old mobile masterlists, but my regular (desktop) masterlists will remain up and be as i post.

Because Tumblr has an embedded link limit, This masterlist only includes my posts for Top Gun, Dune, Tom Cruise, Call of Duty, Elvis Presley, Outer Range, Masters of the Air, and Marvel. My posts for other fandoms can be found here.

If a link is broken or I've missed something, please let me know!

Last Updated: November 8th, 2024 // Guidelines — Askbox

As always, The work(s) on this blog (unless otherwise explicitly stated) are/were written by and belong to me. The stealing, copying, reposting, or unauthorized downloading of my work(s), as well as the works of others, is considered plagiarism. I do not permit anyone to repost, copy, or download my work(s). Banner credit to cafekitsune !

Top Gun

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Fics:

The Double Proposal

Family relations

Headcanons:

SFW alphabet

Slow dancing with rooster would include

Sleep headcanons

Tickling headcanons

Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Fics:

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Beer

Darling You Send Me, Honest You Do

Halloween imagine

Headcanons:

SFW alphabet

domestic life as bobs pretty little housewife would include

Misc Bob headcanons

Moodboards:

Christmas with Bob

Springtime with Bob

Domestic life with Bob

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Fics:

Dancing In The Dark, Alight by Fire

Halloween Imagine

Homegrown

Headcanons:

misc Hangman headcanons

SFW alphabet

Moodboards:

Soft! aesthetic

New Years Eve

Small town romance

Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson

Fics:

Everything, Everything, and the Search for Reclamation

Hold Me, Flatter me

Halloween imagine

Wintering together + falling in love (original ask/prompt)

Rainbow Cereal and Morning Confessions

Headcanons:

misc Cyclone headcanons

Dad! Cyclone (+ Wife! reader) headcanons

SFW alphabet

NSFW alphabet *18+ Only*

dating an autistic!Reader would include

Helping you avoid a meltdown

Dating headcanons

Childhood headcanons

Moodboards:

Wintering together

Pumpkin patch

Pete “Maverick’ Mitchell

Fics:

A Bad Day for Love (But a Good Day for Flower Shops)

Halloween imagine

Headcanons:

SFW alphabet

NSFW alphabet *18+ Only*

Moodboards:

Christmas with Mav

Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace

Headcanons:

Phoenix as your girlfriend

Moodboards:

Vacationing together

Springtime with Phoenix

Mickey 'fanboy' Garcia

Headcanons:

Fanboy as your S/O

Javy 'Coyote' Machado

Headcanons:

SFW alphabet

Moodboards:

Domestic life

Ron 'Slider' Kerner

Fics:

Rebel Yell *18+ Only*

Headcanons:

sfw alphabet

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Headcanons:

Dating headcanons

Series

When Duty Calls - Cyclone x reader

The Little Things - Dagger Squad + Cyclone x reader [complete]

Playlists:

*Shoulder Shimmy* - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Love Notes and Vinyl - Robert “Bob” Floyd

Red Hot Blooded American - Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Rebel Without a Cause - Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

Heatwave - Ron “Slider” Kerner

Strawberry Wine - Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe

Summer at Fightertown USA

General Headcanons + Moodboards:

Top Gun characters as (non alcoholic) drinks

Where I think Top Gun characters grew up

Music Top Gun characters would listen to

The Dagger squad plays laser tag

Rooster and Cyclone's kids' being best friends - AU

What i think Top Gun characters order at a coffee shop

Top Gun: Maverick as chaotic romantic texts

Summer with the Dagger Squad (Moodboard)

Other:

Departure - icemav

Incorrect quotes

DUNE

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Fics:

Creature *18+ Only*

Crawl *sequel to Creature*

Headcanons:

Competing for your affection (Feyd-Rautha & Rabban x reader)

Gurney Halleck

Fics:

Narrow Honor

Stilgar

Fics:

Nectar *18+ Only*

Headcanons:

Jealous headcanons

Glossu Rabban

Headcanons:

Competing for your affection (Feyd-Rautha & Rabban x reader)

Other

Preferences:

How they react to you suddenly kissing them

How they react to your arranged marriage

Deadpool (Movieverse)

Gambit

Fics:

My Red Thread

Southern Gothic! Gambit (Drabble)

Deadpool

Fics:

Pizza Hut and Silent Observation (Also Known as Stalking)

Moodboards:

Dating him

Wolverine

Moodboards:

Dating him

Other

Preferences/headcanons:

How they react when you’re on your period

Tom Cruise

Fics:

In Demand - Tom Cruise x reader x Jon Hamm

Moodboards:

Being an F1 driver and dating him

Elvis Presley

Fics:

Casting Spells

Headcanons:

SFW relationship headcanons

NSFW alphabet *18+ Only*

Outer Range

Royal Abbott

Fics:

Something Domestic

Masters of the Air

Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal

Fics:

Love is a mystery

[saltsicklover]

Part Thirteen

This is a long chapter for this fic! It's most definitely a rollercoaster and I should probably just put a huge warning on this chapter because it's a lot! Hangman Sucks, Natasha Sucks, Bob sucks, hell even Sunny sucks towards the end. It's one giant suckfest, most definitely a whump at the end. That's to say, I'd love to know what you think about it!

ALSO This Fic has just surpassed 40k words with this chapter! Technically its over 43k but still! Thank you for reading so many of my words! I love and appreciate all of you!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6300+

Rating: R

Warnings: Tobacco, Swearing, Fighting, Blood, Crying, Anger, so so much Anger. Bob being slightly obsessed with Sunny's perfume in what could be a low key creepy way.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

The trilling of Natasha's cellphone does nothing to pull Sunny out of her dumbfounded state, her brain playing Nat's bombshell of a sentence over and over again on loop. A broken record minus the squeak of the vinyl. 

"It's about time, Bagman," Natasha answers the call with a swipe of her finger, her voice carrying an aggravated tone. She tucks her phone between her shoulder and her cheek, leaving her hands free to stir her coffee. 

"Phoenix," Hangman's voice comes through the phone a bit muffled, like his hand is covering his mouth, "I fucked up," 

If he fucked up, maybe he should sound a bit more remorseful, but Natasha doesn't point that fact out. It's really not important, and it's not like she plans on letting him forget about this any time soon. 

"Yeah, no shit," That much is obvious to her, and finally Jake realizes it too, "Glad you finally put that together, what, twelve hours later?" Natasha does nothing to hide her annoyance. If it wasn't for Jake storming from the Hard Deck, his phone going unanswered, then Natasha and Sunny could have been out on the town by now. They would be shopping until Sunny couldn't possibly stuff anything else in her duffel. What's paying for one more checked bag, right?

"Yeah- well, I remembered when I woke up an hour ago-"

"An hour ago?! And you're just returning my call now? Jesus, Bagman, how hung over are you?" Natasha rolls her eyes, her hand coming back up to grasp her phone, though Hangman won't be able to see either action. She hopes that he will hear it in her voice- how ticked off she is becoming. If anyone could make the vocal eye roll a thing, it would be Natasha Trace. 

Glancing over at Sunny, Natasha notices she still has the same bewildered expression painted on her features. She can see the gears in Sunny's head turning with the way her eyebrows are furrowed, lips pursed, the only thing missing is the steam that should be pouring out of her ears. Then, Hangman's sputtering from the other side of the phone drags her back to that conversation. 

"Spit it out Hangman,"

"I came out to my truck to grab her bag and bring it into my place so it would be safe until you got here, but, Phoenix, it's not here," Seresin's almost whispering the last bit, Natasha even hits her volume button with her thumb in a failed effort to hear him better.

"What?" 

Confusion. Natasha hopes she heard him wrong. 

"It's not here, Phoenix. Sunny's bag, it's not in the bed of my truck. It isn't in the cab either,"

"What?"

Anger. She hadn't. 

"I didn't even remember that I had it until I got my phone plugged in this morning. Damn thing has been dead all night," Jake swears to himself under his breath, feeling the tension growing over the dead space of the call.  

Pinching the bridge of your nose is supposed to help stop headaches. Nat has never believed that fact, yet she pinches the bridge of her nose hard with her fingertips. 

"I swear to God, Hangman, I am going to murder you if you don't find Sunny's duffle," That gets Sunny's attention, the wheels in her head slowing, expression changing, confusion visible on her face. But, as soon as she locks eyes with Nat, her eyebrows lift to her hairline in question. Natasha pulls the phone away from her ear, but makes zero to attempt to cover the microphone when she tells Sunny, "Hangman fucked up and if he doesn't fix it, I am going to kill him,"

The nod that comes from Sunny pleases Natasha, the trust the younger woman has for her is evident in her lack of concern. Hangman is almost humming through the phone, impatient. The sound of a slamming truck door accompanying the swearing he is failing to cover up. 

"Fix it, Hangman," Is the last thing Natasha threatens the man with before hanging up the phone. 

"What was all that about?" Sunny has laid herself back down in the sun, one arm under her head, the other coming up to shield her eyes. She still squints a bit, her whole expression wrinkling over. 

Natasha notices just how relaxed she is, even with all of the bullshit that has been going on, so she takes a moment to think of her next move. Sunny wriggles a bit in her chair, watching Nat closely, waiting impatiently for an answer. So, Phoenix huffs, releasing a large breath from her lungs. 

"Somewhere between last night and this morning your duffle bag disappeared from the back of Hangman's truck," Natasha tries to wave her hand as if to emphasize that this little bit of information is really no big deal. She doesn't necessarily believe this herself, but she doesn't want Sunny's trip to get any worse than it has been already. After all, this isn't exactly how Phoenix had imagined their first visit going. "He is going to find it, but until then, lets find you something to wear and we can use it as an excuse to get you a new outfit."

The wink that Natasha sends Sunny across the deck makes Sunny giggle. Though she knows she should be worried about her lost items, Sunny can't find it in her to care all that much. The biggest disappointment would be having to replace the bag itself. Everything else in that damn duffel bag could go up in cinders and there wouldn't be any big loss. After all, Sunny already abandoned the most important thing to her at Bob's feet, the night before at the Hard Deck. 

"Give me a cute shirt to put on over my dress and we can go shopping, how does that sound?" Sunny shoots her friend a smile.

"Deal,"

After Sunny manages to pull her day old clothes back onto her body, fighting off the way they feel tear stained and gritty from the sand, she combs her way though Nat's closet. Her fingers wonder over the hangers, one by one. Each piece is different, but all of them soft and well loved. 

"I'm surprised how many pieces ofclothing you have in here," Sunny teases, her voice light as it meets Nat's ears over the sound of running water. "So feminine, too, Nat. I thought you'd dress a little more, I don't know... President of the boy's club," 

Natasha tries to feign offense but the toothbrush that's set between her closed lips keeps her quiet. 

"I mean, half of this is still uniform pieces, I know that, but still so feminine," Sunny jokes, trying to ignore the way Nat hangs her upper body out of the bathroom, narrowing her eyes at the younger woman. 

"You're in a fucking dress, you yahoo," Phoenix speaks through a mouth of suds, her toothbrush in her hand. 

"I know that, and I'm trying not to be," Sunny shoots back, sticking her tongue out. 

"I know a few Aviators that would love to help you with that problem," Phoenix's voice sounds a little more muffled from her space in front of the sink, but definitely lacking in suds. 

"Bradley would never!" The gasp is fake, but the giggling coming from both women is all too real. 

"Maybe not, but I can think of one very deserving man, and one who is less so, who would both be equally thrilled."

"And who exactly is the deserving one, Nash?" Sunny inquires, yanking a t-shirt off of a hanger before tugging it over her head. She ties it in a knot at her waist, allowing the skirt to peak out below it. 

Natasha is leaning out from the bathroom once more, grinning at Sunny as she fixes her clothes in the mirror. The shirt reads FORD is large blue letters across the front. It clashes a bit with Sunny's dress, but the fabric is so soft she can't help but claim it for the day. She chuckles to herself, thinking it's most definitely something Bob might have owned once upon a time, and that thought warms her a bit on the inside.

Natasha is grinning because she knows that shirt wasn't hers, once upon a time. It had been stolen from Bob one day when she came home from a night out and found it discarded on the hardwood by the front door. It was intended to be a little piece of blackmail, but this, this was better. She wants to let Sunny know that little tidbit of information, but decides to keep it to herself, enjoying the joy on her friend's face. Maybe Bob will see her in it and say something, or maybe he will enjoy getting to see her in it too. 

"Behave while I am in the shower, would you?" Natasha's voice is muffled by the now closing bathroom door, the sound of water coming through the pipes erupts a moment later, giving Sunny zero time to actually form an answer. With a mumble of "not likely" to herself, Sunny runs her hand over a garment bag that's hung towards the back of the closet. After a chance look back towards the bathroom to insure the door is still shut, she pulls the zipper on the garment bag down, revealing Natasha's stark white Dress Uniform in all of it's official glory. The damn thing is almost blinding in person between the pristine fabric and the shining of the buttons. 

An idea that hits Sunny almost makes her laugh out loud. With nimble fingers, Sunny pulls the entirely too white jacket off of the hanger. She pulls it on, carefully easing the stiff fabric up over her shoulders. With one gentle finger, Sunny feels the coldness of the nametag pinned to the chest. 

The plate reads the wrong name, Trace, filled in with white paint. 

Sunny takes in the sight of herself in the full length mirror Nat has propped up against the wall in the front of her bedroom. She attempts to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. 

The bright red of Sunny's dress, and the gray shirt she had just pulled over her body a few moments before, now partially obscured by the bright uniform top. It looks funny on her, from the way her eyes look to innocent against the hardness of the uniform to the way her fingers dance along the stiffness of the fabric. 

The urge to see Bob in is own uniform tangles in her chest along with the tight feeling- there is not enough space for both and she wants nothing more than to rip the fabric from her body. But, as she moves to pull it from her shoulders, she catches a glance of herself in the mirror one last time, pain in her expression, loneliness in the spaces of darkness below her eyes and suddenly, the uniform looks a little bit more correct. 

---

When Bob pulls his truck into the driveway later that morning, he carefully shifts down into park, shutting off his truck with a feeling of defeat clawing at his chest. He knows he shouldn't be tiptoeing around his own home, or holding his breath over the fact that Natasha's car is still parked out front. Yet, he can't shake that feeling from his bones. Both women still have to be home, not that Bob really expected anything different. After all, Sunny'sduffle is sitting in the passenger seat of his truck and he didn't expect her to wear her day old clothes out of the house. 

It's not like Bob thought she would mind, exactly. Sunny grew up on a ranch after all, and day old clothes worn in the city are still cleaner than any workwear found on a ranch. But, it's the principal. At least, that's what Bob has been telling himself. 

The fact that Hangman took off with Sunny's bag last night in the first place ticked Bob off, and so Bob went over to Jake's place to get it himself. Bob told himself when he pulled into Jake's driveway that he was doing the right thing- fixing his wingman's problem. He planned to call him later and let him know that the bag had been picked it up. Jake was bound to be sleeping off some sort of monster hangover, right? And there was no selfish motivation behind it, right? 

Bob lays his head against the steering wheel, forcing a couple of deep breaths into his system. It's getting increasingly more difficult to lie to himself about Sunny, now that she had walked back into his life, looking like everything he had ever wanted. Hell, she looked better, if that was even possible. She looked like his future, and up until she opened her mouth and the pieces fell into place, Bob thought he might break out his rusty moves and flirt the night away with her. 

That certainly didn't happen. 

Now that he has Sunny's bag, he's going to have to face her, right? After all, he can't exactly avoid her the whole time she is here, that wouldn't make him a very good host. Even if all of this history is stuck between them like some sort of unconquerable dividing force. Bob put himself in this situation, twice now. First when he abandoned her all those years ago, and again just this morning when he drove himself to Hangman's house and pilfered the bag from the back of his truck. 

The urge to unzip the bag and let the smell of Sunny's perfume flood the cab of the old Ford is almost too tempting. He can smell the faintest bit of left over fragrance on the bag itself, the smell all wood smoke and cedar under the lightest brush of vanilla that seems to be fading faster than the rest. Bob can't help the way the corner of his lip curls up at the scent. Sunny has never been a flowers and sweets kind of girl, those scents all too feminine and soft for a woman like her, at least, that's how Bob saw it. Hell, the damn burnt woodsmoke smell reminds him of home and it just makes sense that Sunny would wear it. 

Sunny has always been the worlds strongest girl in Bob's eyes. Maybe that's what allowed him to be so mean to her during school, and why he stood there and took her verbal beating in front of the crowd at the bar. Growing up in a Man's world, on a ranch in Florence, no doubt forced her into being strong- and if she couldn't punch her way out, she could sure as hell use her words. All Bob cared about was the fact that those words were directed at him, even if they hurt as he replays them over and over in his mind. 

There's that old saying, you can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl. Bob assumes the same thing can be said about Montana. After all, Duchenne- Sunny is a Montana girl through and through and he can't separate them in his head. 

Hell, even if Bob has to remind himself over and over again that Duchenne isn't the one sitting in his house, it's Sunny now, all grown up, Bob still looks at her and sees, strength, sees home. He can see the clear of the sky in the smoothness of her skin. The wind plays through her messy hair, now in metaphor but still all there, fresh and crisp, bringing goosebumps to his skin. 

The damn smell of cedar and woodsmoke just completes the picture in his head; it leaves him yearning, which in a way feels just like home too.  

There isn't a way he can put it off anymore without a fear that he will throw the car into reverse and not come back until dark, so Bob pulls the bag over his shoulder and heads into the house. The sound of water running through the pipes hits his ears as soon as he walks in, and a deep breath he has been holding makes its way out of his lungs. 

Maybe he'll get lucky, he thinks, maybe she's in the shower and he can give the bag to Phoenix, delay talking to Sunny for another day, maybe two. Bob stalks up the stairs, the weight of Sunny's duffle threatening to collapse him at any second. 

It's not the weight, not really. 

It's the impending doom of it all. The bomb just a few seconds before it goes off, fragile and ticking down with each step he takes. 

The floor board creak beneath him, and it's a fitting sound, really, the groaning of the house matching the aching of his bones as he fights against the gravity pulling him down; pulling him in. It's the dizzying smell of woodsmoke that is flooding his senses that really seals the deal. It is stuck in his nose, much like the scent of jet fuel used to be. A part of him hopes that it also takes weeks to fade, to become something he no longer notices, that way, he can drown it while she is here, but then it will disappear our the door with Sunny. 

There is a moment where, just for a second, Bob wants to turn right around and head back out to the truck. Maybe not to leave, but to just exist in that scent for a little while longer without the fear of losing it. He hopes that it will stick around, that it will have embed itself into his upholstery. 

Hell, he hopes Sunny will stick around too, but that thought is fleeting and too far fetched to entertain for more than a second. After all, what's worth sticking around Miramar for, anyway?

The flash of stark white in his peripheral stops Bob in his tracks at the top of the stairs. There are few things in this house he knows to be that color, that bright, and none of them even come close to making his blood rush through his ears like the sight before him does. Sunny stands twisting her body in the mirror in Phoenix's room, the older woman's dress uniform jacket pulled carefully over her shoulders. Bob can't help but watch her, his mouth slightly agape has he takes in her form, clad in stark white, his Ford t-shirt speaking out between the open buttons. 

Suddenly, Bob is fighting against his own body to drag some sort of breath into his lungs. 

There is a wave of jealousy that snakes through Bob at his core. If she's in anyone's dress whites, she should be in his. Bob knows Natasha poses no threat, and hell, he is acting like Sunny is his to protect when in reality she is almost the furthest thing from that. From him and his love and his hands. But still, there is a part of him that's thankful that the jacket is hers, if Sunny has to be in someone else's. For a moment, the thought of Sunny is Hangman's uniform flashes through the forefront of his mind, but he doesn't entertain it any longer than it takes for the anger to drift out to his fingertips. 

The anger sits there, in his hands, beating under his fingernails and in the densest part of his palms. It's hot, searing, burning. 

Bob is not a stranger to the feeling, to the yearning. No, it's second nature by now. 

He is fighting for another breath, the ache somewhere between swallowed salt water and broken ribs.

Anger will not ruin this moment, Bob won't let it. Instead, he watches as Sunny's polished nails run over the pristine fabric, the lacquer only making the jacket look brighter. Bob takes in the subtle gleam in her eyes as she adjusts one of the cuffs. The wave of jealousy rolls through him again, this time, though, Bob wishes it was him under her well polished fingertips, so he could see the way the red of them pops out against his skin as she adjusts his cuffs. 

He almost lets himself imagine it- Sunny helping him into his dress whites. Bob has been in the Navy long enough to not need help with a uniform, he can pin his own ribbon racks on and make sure his name plate is sitting straight on his chest. Bob doesn't need the help. Yet, he can almost feel the gentleness that would be Sunny's touch, buttoning up those tacky gold buttons. He swears, if he closes his eyes he can see Sunny smiling up at him, the bright white of the uniform shining in her eyes like sunlight and it would be beautiful. 

And so he does. Bob closes his eyes right there, on the top landing of the staircase and lets himself imagine the way her fingers would bush over his uniform, too delicately, and how he would have to practice the upmost level of self control to keep himself from kissing all of that gentleness out of her. 

He takes the image of Sunny, smiling up at him on Prom night, under the stars, and lets himself remember how she felt under his hands. How it felt to kiss her. The feelings ebb and flow through him, his imagination pulled completely out to sea. He can feel the way her rings would dig into his skin, like they had years before. That feeling has never been forgotten. He wants to know how it would feel for Sunny to run her hands down the fabric of his uniform- or how it might feel for her to unzip the impossibly long zipper of his flight suit. 

Bob stops himself before his mind wanders too far- before he's unable to reign it in. 

When Bob finally cracks his eyes back open, Sunny is standing there, her hands still on the crisp white fabric near the bottom of the coat, eyes meeting, gaze tangling with Bob's own. Her gaze is a bit more sad, or maybe grief stricken, but she no longer looks angry as she stares at him. His breath hitches, the strangled breath caught in the denseness of his chest, and like a deer caught in the headlights, he has nowhere to go. The only thing left for him to do is squeeze his eyes shut and wait for the impact. And yet, he can't even  get himself to  squeeze his fucking eyes shut. Not when Sunny's finally looking at him with such kindness in her eyes. 

God, how Bob missed that look. 

The way Sunny looks at him is like a rush of blood straight to his head; like turning three-sixty in the cockpit a few thousand feet in the air. But that he was trained for- this? Nothing could have prepared him for this. For the softness behind her eyes where he has only been met with sadness in meetings past. Then, Sunny quirks an awkwardly shy expression, the whole thing coming out a little bit sideways and so very guilty.  

Neither of the pair is willing to speak first. Just the night before, Sunny couldn't keep her mouth shut and Bob wanted nothing more than to speak to her. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness. But now, they both stand in the cross fire of silence and desperate stares and it's not as heavy as either expected it to be. 

The sick swarming feeling of anxiety is back in Bob's stomach, still raging but less sour than before. 

When hasn't this girl, this woman before him, not made him anxious?

Maybe it's the softness of her eyes that quells it, or that guilty little grin that hasn't left her face even as the tinge of crushed raspberries takes over her skin. Bob tastes blood, the crimson invading his mouth from how hard he is biting his cheek. 

His heart hits against the backside of his ribs, calling out to her hands once more, the feeling threatening to make him as dizzy as her perfume. 

Silently, Bob slips her bag from his shoulder, taking a few steps closer to the bedroom door. He stops just outside of the jamb, still in the safety of the hallway. He brings a hand up to the jamb, leaning in just a little bit, just to get a little closer to her. Bob is chancing everything with this, as he leans, but he's do anything right in this moment if it meant he could be just that much closer with her eyes on him. Hell, he'd do anything to keep her smiling at him like that, even if it looks so damn guilty as it does nothing to cover up the sadness in her eyes. 

Then, Sunny is moving towards him, still clad in that damn white coat, sad eyes, and guilty smile. 

Bob's heart almost stops. The closer she gets, the more irradic it beats. He can see his Ford t-shirt under the open jacket and that's almost kills him. 

But, his heart keeps beating, he keeps living, so he holds the bag out to her like a peace offering, though he could never use it as one. It dangles between them, the muscles in his arm flexing to keep the heavy duffle from meeting the floor. The look Sunny gives him almost brings him to his knees, a fit place for him to beg for forgiveness, though his tongue is dry and still in the prison of his mouth. 

Then, her hand is reaching. Inch by inch, second by second, until her fingertips run over the back of his hand, so soft but still there, before grasping the strap in her own fist. He can't believe the moment that has just transpired between them; how soft her touch was or the fact that it was really her who touched him.

And again, Bob's heart calls to her hands like the moon calls to the waves and he is left wishing that it could be strong enough to pull them closer; until he is gifted with something just as sweet. 

"Thank you, Bobby," The words leave Sunny's tongue as no more than a mere whisper, but Bob wouldn't have missed it. He couldn't have. Not when it was her words- not when it's her. 

Words fail him again, but instinct kicks in and he is bringing his free hand up to his hat, nodding at her with a gentle touch to it's brim. Bob lets his fingertips graze over the brim just as soft as Sunny's touch grazed over his hand. The smile he is given lights his nervous system up, sending pin prick sparks dancing across the expanse of his body. Then, he is backing away, back towards the stairs.

Bob knows he has to get out of there, he just has to. There needs to be just one moment between them that isn't tainted. And Sunny smiled at him, in that fucking jacket that she had zero business wearing with his t-shirt underneath and it sent his mind reeling the closer she stood. So, he has to go. 

The takes the first two backwards before finally turning his back to her, unable to fight the smile trying to claw its way into his face. In that moment he knew he finally murdered Dr. Jekyll, and the feeling of standing over the metaphorical corpse of a twisted doctor is almost as good as that smile of hers when it's directed right towards him. 

When Natasha finally exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel in her hand as soaks up the water droplets that still fall from her hair, she is met with the sight of Sunny. She is still clad in Nat's coat, her duffle in her hand, staring out the doorway into an empty hallway. She stands so still, so quiet, Natasha thinks something might be wrong from the way the younger woman is just standing there. That is until she notices the smile on Sunny's lips and the doe eyed look that has taken over her features. 

That makes Phoenix smile too, her expression filled with a little too much knowing. She can almost picture the way Bob must look, leaning up against something, with that damn cowboy hat in his hand, or maybe held against his chest to cage in the beating of his heart. He's wearing that same fucking smile, that same doe eyed, hopelessly, head over heels in love look. 

Natasha want's to scream "go after him, you idiot!" but it's too soon, they need more time. Bob needs more time to figure out just how to make up for it all, and Sunny needs more time to trust again, to trust him again. Phoenix then notices the bit of sadness in the depts of Sunny's eyes. 

"Sunny," Natasha's voice is quiet, in attempt to not spook the lovesick look of of her friends face. Sunny doesn't turn from the door, still staring hopelessly into the hallway. She mutters a "Yeah?" in response. "Did he walk away from you again?" 

There is anger spiking through Natasha now, her fists balled, knuckles white. 

"Yes," 

That's all Natasha needs to hear. Suddenly, she is pushing past Sunny, rage taking over her in an instant. Nat is already down the hall, leaving her standing there sputtering. 

"Robert Floyd!" Natasha comes crashing into the living room. There is no answer from inside the house, so she turns, heading right for the front door. Sunny is clamoring down the stairs behind her, confusion and fear laced over her features. 

"Nash!" Sunny is hot on her friend's heels, her duffle bag now thrown over her shoulder, as the door swings shut with a loud slam. The walls shake, the nob still vibrating as Sunny pulls the door open. 

By the time Sunny makes it out to the driveway, Natasha is pulling Bob close by the collar of his shirt. Then, she is throwing him to the ground. His body hits the pavement hard; he winces, his glasses falling from the bridge of his nose. Bob opens his mouth to speak, but is met with a sharp right hook to the jaw. Then, a fist meets his nose. 

It's not clear which is louder in Bob's ears, the crunching of cartridge or the small scream that manages to escape from Sunny. He can taste the blood, metallic and sharp in his mouth, leaking into the paces between his lips and gums. 

"I told you not to hurt her again, Floyd," Bob is groaning, not in response but out of pain. He makes no effort to fight back as Phoenix drops on top of him, ready to hit him again.

But the punch never comes. 

And then her weight is being dragged off of him, Phoenix protesting the whole time. Bob carefully brings his hands to his face, blood smearing all over his skin. It's already dripping from his chin, collecting in dark, angry patches on his shirt. 

"What the fuck was that, Natasha?!" It's Sunny's voice that cuts through Bob's bleary state, his whole face wet. Sunny is still holding Natasha back, her hands pulling Phoenix's elbows together behind her back. He was just standing there, smoking, thinking about how fucking pretty Sunny looked in his shirt, and the way she touched him, and the next thing he knew, Natasha had him, and now he couldn't be more confused. This's an answer he wants to hear, too. 

"He had one more chance, Sunny, and he fucking hurt you! What else did you expect me to do?" This is the most angry Bob had seen her, even after yesterday. Sunny doesn't exactly look surprised, but God, she looks hurt. 

"No," The word is so stern it get's Phoenix to stop fighting against her grip. The anger is slowly simmering out of Natasha, and Sunny may as well have been absorbing it because she is fucking livid now. 

"But he hurt you, Sun-"

"No," She starts again, letting go of Nat's elbows, only to put herself between her friend and Bob. Suddenly the aviators are wearing equally confused expressions, but neither dare interrupt Sunny's angry tirade. "First of all, Natasha, you do not get to come out here, acting like a goddamn fucking fool then turn around and use that nickname with me. When I told you to call me that, I thought we had an understanding. Be there for each other, not fight each other's battles," Sunny's pointing a finger in Natasha's face. She is inching closer and closer, and it's taking all of Nat's will not to slink away. 

"Second, Bobby didn't do a goddamn thing. If you would've stuck around instead of going all Rambo, you might have found out what happened. We actually came to an understanding," Sunny's not sure if that's really what happened, or if an understanding is really something that could be reached between them, but it seems to be the best word to describe the complicated situation right now. 

Natasha looks at the blindingly bright jacket on Sunny, now decorated with Bob's blood. The coat is ruined now, stained with anger and lines crossed. She glances down to her hands, taking in the bright crimson decorating her knuckles. Natasha feels sick. 

"Third," Sunny takes her outstretched finger and tips up Natasha's chin with it, making the older woman look her in the eyes. Sunny pays no attention to the tears threatening to flood over her waterlines. "Look me in the eyes when I'm speaking to you. Even if he did hurt me, that doesn't give you the excuse to punch him, let alone break his nose! What the hell were you thinking?" 

Tears are slipping from Natasha's eyes now, her lower lip quivering. She chances a look over Sunny's shoulder to Bob, who is still bleeding profusely from his nose. He doesn't try and stop the blood, instead to focused on the women in front of him and the way Sunny is defending his honor. Then, she is shaking her head, sidestepping Natasha and heading back for the front door. 

Both Bob and Natasha watch her go. Nat is doing the best she can to hold in her tears, push them back down as she sniffles. Bob wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, already too coated in blood to really help anything. It just smears the blood further over the expanse of his rapidly bruising face. 

When Sunny returns a moment later, she has two purses slung over her shoulder, an ice pack and a set of keys in her hand. She approaches Natasha, she is shoving the keys and the smaller of the two purses into the older woman's hands. Natasha sniffles again, taking the items from Sunny's hands without a word. Hell, even if Natasha knew what to say, she wouldn't have been able to peel the words from he tongue. 

Then, Sunny is moving towards Bob. She kneels down, grabbing his now bent glasses from the pavement. Folding them up as best as she can, she places them on Bob's thigh. She is shucking the once crisp white coat from her shoulders a second later, wrapping the icepack in it before offering it to him as a sort of rag to help with all the blood. Bob takes it with a shaky hand. She guides it in his hand up to his nose. Sunny attempts to give him a reassuring smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. 

"Natasha is going to take you to the hospital," The words are sharp and loud, loud enough for Nat to hear. They are meant for her anyway. If Sunny's tone of voice didn't make him feel sick, the completely crushed expression on Phoenix's face would have. 

With a quick squeeze of Bob's thigh, Sunny is moving away. As she stands, she swipes the still smoldering cigarillo from the ground, bringing it up to her lips. The look Sunny sends Natasha as she grabs her duffle bag from the grass sends chills down both her and Bob's spines. Then, Sunny's back is turned to the pair as she heads down the driveway. 

The Aviators watch as she goes, turning down the street and slowly disappearing into the distance. Neither dare to move, dare to speak. After all, there is nothing to say, not when there is so much understanding between them now. Natasha knows now, how Bob felt at the Hard Deck as he watched Sunny walk away. Her anger clouded her eyes before, too focused on getting answers. But, she knows now, too, having watched Sunny walk away in a cloud of stolen smoke. 

When Nat finally turns back to Bob, he looks at her with such empathy, and that fucking breaks her. 

A strangled sob wracks through her from deep in her chest, clawing its way out of her throat as hot tears all but burn trails down her face. Then, Bob is holding a bloody hand out to her, beckoning her closer, to sit with him. So she does, the tears coming hard and fast, almost choking her. Bob wraps a comforting arm around Phoenix's shoulders, pulling her into him, a makeshift way to ground the both. She buries her face into the now crimson jacket as Bob rubs her back, letting her cry. As the sun gets higher in the sky, and the tears slow, neither attempt to move from their space on the concrete. Both are too weighed down from the day, from the fight, from watching Sunny walk away from their fucking mess. 

And so, the pair sit on the pavement, up against Bob's truck, covered in slowly drying blood; watching the road that their girl disappeared down, just hoping, praying that she might turn back around. 

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Everything About You - Two. (Bradley Bradshaw x OFC)

a/n: Here's part two of my 13 Going on 30 x Top Gun: Maverick AU fic! I'm pretty proud of this one, I'm not going to lie.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw (AU) x Danielle Lucas (OFC)

content/warnings: mentions of character deaths.

word count: 2.5k

You woke up the next morning with a sense of disorientation. Something was…different. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. Blinking against the morning light streaming through your bedroom window, you rubbed your eyes and stretched, trying to shake off the lingering effects of an unusual dream. However, as your surroundings came into focus, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

The room looked different—unrecognizable. Your pale-pink walled bedroom with all the decor of a 90s teenager was gone. Replacing them were beige painted walls with white trim, and where boyband posters once sat were now framed photos of simiplistic wall art. The inflatable chair that Bradley always teased you for was nowhere to be seen, in its place now sitting a vanity with a clear acrylic chair. Panic surged through your body as you glanced around, heart racing. Was this some sort of prank? A bad dream? 

Slowly, you swung her legs over the side of the bed, cautious as you stood up. You continued to glance around the room, covering your mouth to muffle your astounded gasp as you saw a sleeping figure laying next to your spot in the bed, its short blonde hair sticking out every which way from under the covers, a large foot sticking out at the other end of the bed. 

You stumbled out of the room, still in a dazed state of shock as you searched the hallway for the bathroom, rubbing your eyes and trying to convince yourself it was just a dream. The bathroom was nothing like the one you’d remembered - the harsh lighting and vinyl flooring of your parents house had been upgraded to a warmer, soft glowing overhead light with ceramic tile at your feet. Two toothbrushes sat in the ornate holder on the counter of the marble sink. You frowned as you rubbed your eyes again before turning the cold water tap on. Splashing the cool liquid over your face, you blinked twice before looking up into the mirror.

What you saw left you breathless. Staring back at you was a 30-year-old woman, not the 13-year-old girl you were when you went to sleep the night before. Shock and disbelief washed over you as you took in the unfamiliar new features of your face. You raced out of the bathroom, running to look for something, anything that could explain what was going on if you didn’t wake up from this dream first. 

While you frantically searched the kitchen for any indication as to what could be going on here, you heard a set of footprints stomping down the hall, heavy as they headed towards the kitchen. A tall, well-built blonde haired man stood before you, pulling a t-shirt on over his head with a smile. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart, you ok? You look…different.” He said, laughing slightly as he began making himself a coffee.

“Huh?”

“Dani, you ok?” His brows furrowed as he looked at you now, appearing concerned for you. 

“How do you know my name?” 

You stared at the blonde stranger, unsure if you should run away screaming or phone the police. Yet, somehow, it felt like he belonged here. There was a strange sense of worry on his face, contorted into a frown as he looked at you again.

“Babe, did you hit your head or something?” He chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head, his seafoam coloured eyes looking up at you in confused bewilderment.

“No? I mean…I don’t think so.”

You frowned as you sat down in the chair at the kitchen table, feeling confused and defeated. You had no idea what was going on or how you got here. Last night when you fell asleep, you were 13, and miserable. This morning, you’re a full-grown adult in an unfamiliar apartment with an equally full-grown man. The blonde man sat down across from you, raising an eyebrow.

“Dani, babe, what’s going on? You look anxious about something,” he frowned for a moment, in thought, “Are you pregnant? ‘Cause if you are, I mean, I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“No!” you shrieked, almost horrified at the notion, forgetting that you were in the body of an adult, “Absolutely not. I’m definitely not pregnant,” you affirmed, shaking your head quickly.

“Ok, well, that’s good, I guess. Doesn’t explain the weird behaviour though.”

You studied his face for a moment, it seemed familiar, but you’d never seen him before - at least, you’d thought you hadn’t. His sunkissed tanned skin was flawless, the odd freckle dotting him here and there. His honey coloured hair was tousled and messy, but yet, he looked fresh off a runway. You raised an eyebrow at him before shaking your head, putting a hand to your forehead and laughing.

“Sorry, uh, who are you?”

He frowned for a moment, almost insulted that you were asking him such a question.

“Jake…your boyfriend?”

“Right! Right…uh, Jake, how…how old am I?”

“Ok, Dani, I think you hit your head pretty hard, should I take you to a doctor?” 

“No! No, I’m fine, I promise. I just…” you sighed, shaking your head. He’d never believe you. You’d never believe you, but you had no choice but to try and tell him what you remembered, “Promise you won’t think I’m insane?”

“I promise I’ll try not to?” 

You began to tell Jake everything you could remember. The day at school, the party, Alexis, the fight with Bradley - everything. He listened patiently, nodding his head as you rambled, trying to process your every word. He laughed when you were done explaining, clearly unsure how else to react. 

“Alexis? You mean your friend Alexis?”

“We’re…we’re friends?” 

“Yeah, you were out with her last night. Well, my last night, I guess. I’ve never heard of this Bradley guy before.”

“You haven’t?”

Your face fell for a moment, sighing as you realized that your fight with Bradley must have created some sort of permanent issue between the two of you.

“Wait…how old am I?”

Jake shrugged his shoulders and laughed as he answered, clearly going along with whatever issue you were currently going through. 

“You turned 30 yesterday, babe. Oct. 24, 2014.” 

“2014?!”

“Yeah. last I checked.”

“Jake,” you frowned, speaking softly as you looked at him, “Do you think you could help me find Bradley? I really need to talk to him.”

"Okay, Dani, first things first,” Jake sighed softly, “The world has changed a lot since you were 13. One big thing is social media. It's like this massive online network where people connect, share updates, and, well, basically live their lives in the digital realm. If you wanna find Bradley, this is going to be your best bet."

You listened intently, feeling a mix of fascination and overwhelming confusion. "Social media? You think I could find Bradley that way?"

"It's a way for people to stay connected, share their experiences, and even find old friends," Jake explained patiently. "Think of it as a virtual scrapbook of your life that everyone can see. And, lucky for us, it's a great tool for finding people. We just need to figure out which platforms Bradley might be using."

As Jake continued to unravel the concept of social media for you, he could sense your growing eagerness to navigate this unfamiliar terrain.

"So, what do you say, Dani? Ready to dive into the world of Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter? We might just find Bradley and, who knows, maybe even get some clues about how you ended up in 2014."

Encouraged by Jake's optimism, you nodded to yourself, ready for the challenge. "Yeah, let's do it. If this is what it takes to find Bradley, then I'm all in."

Jake pulled out his smartphone, swiping his finger across the screen. The sleek device, with its touch screen and array of icons, caught you completely off guard.

"Wait, what is that thing you just pulled out?" You asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

"Oh, this?" Jake chuckled, holding up his smartphone. "It's a smartphone, Dani. It's like a mini-computer that fits in your pocket. I can do all sorts of things with it, and one of the most useful features for us right now is accessing social media."

You squinted at the unfamiliar device, trying to comprehend the technological leap that had occurred since you last remembered.

"Social media on a tiny computer? I'm not sure I follow."

Jake grinned, ready to demystify the modern gadget for his bewildered girlfriend. 

"Okay, imagine this is your phone, right? You can use it to connect to the internet and access platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. We can search for Bradley and see if he's on any of these. It's like a digital detective tool, Dani."

As Jake navigated through the smartphone's features, you couldn't help but marvel at the technology in Jake's hands. The concept of a phone being more than just a device for calls and messages was mind-boggling.

"Technology has come a long way since 1997," Jake remarked with a smirk. "Now, let's find Bradley and get some answers, shall we?"

With newfound understanding and a mix of curiosity and determination, you braced yourself for this journey into the digital realm, armed with a smartphone and the hope of reconnecting with a friend lost in the folds of time. The search through social media profiles became a digital journey, a maze of interconnected lives waiting to be explored. With Jake's smartphone in hand, you felt the weight of anticipation as together, you navigated through Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Each tap and scroll brought you closer to the possibility of finding Bradley, a familiar name amid the vast sea of digital identities.

As Jake typed "Bradley Bradshaw" into the Facebook search bar, the screen filled with a cascade of profiles, a mosaic of faces and names. The challenge was to discern your Bradley from the myriad others who shared his name. Your eyes scanned each profile picture, searching for the familiar features she remembered from their shared past. The seconds felt like an eternity as they sifted through the virtual crowd.

Transitioning to Instagram, Jake explained the platform's visual nature. 

"Photos can tell a story, Dani. Let's see if we can spot Bradley in the midst of these snapshots." 

You dove into a collection of images – sunsets, cityscapes, astonishing meals and smiling faces. The process was like peering through a digital album of moments frozen in time.

Twitter had presented its own set of challenges, with the endless stream of tweets and hashtags. You wondered if Bradley's voice could be discerned in the brief, text-based snippets. The hunt continued, a shared determination pushing you forward despite the uncertainties that lingered in the digital expanse.

It was amidst this digital quest that your eyes caught a glimpse of familiarity. A profile picture, aged but unmistakable, drew her attention. 

“That’s him!” you said quickly, almost in disbelief as you looked at the image before you.

The moment was surreal as you tapped on Bradley's profile, feeling a rush of emotions at the prospect of reconnecting with a friend she thought she had lost to the echoes of time.

As the profile opened, a digital portal to Bradley's life unfolded. You scrolled through the curated moments, capturing glimpses of his journey through the years. The sense of relief and joy overwhelmed you, grateful for the technological marvel that had bridged the gap between past and present, connecting you to Bradley once again across the ever-changing landscape of time and technology.

As you navigated through Bradley's social media profile, you were met with a visual narrative that encapsulates the journey of her childhood friend from adolescence to adulthood. The striking contrast between the awkward, lanky teenager with braces at 13 and the successful and handsome 30-year-old journalist is accentuated by Bradley's prominent mustache, a distinctive feature that now graces his mature face.

The scars she remembered on his face had long faded, nearly unnoticeable now. His amber coloured eyes were covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses, and a Hawaiian print shirt with a tropical colour palette hung off his shoulders, with a tight, fitted white t-shirt underneath, his light denim jeans hugging his figure.

 The mustache adds an air of sophistication to Bradley's appearance, an unexpected yet charming detail that enhances his overall appeal. You found yourself captivated by this newfound aspect of Bradley's identity, appreciating the subtle changes that time has etched on his face. As you absorbed the images of a confident and accomplished Bradley, the mustache becomes a symbolic marker of his growth and identity, weaving a unique thread between the past and the present. For a moment, you realize, he’s the spitting image of his dad - a man you never got to meet, but remembered vividly from photos scattered around Bradley’s childhood home.

“That’s him?” Jake asked softly, raising an impressed eyebrow as he looked at the pictures with you.

“Positive. He looks just like his dad. Or at least, what I saw of his dad. He died when Bradley was little, before I met him. His mom was the nicest lady though, she always made a point of inviting me over for dinner. She sort of treated me like the daughter she never had, I guess? It’s weird though, I don’t see any sign of her.”

Jake shrugged his shoulders and laughed softly.

“I don’t have my mom on my social media pictures. Maybe she doesn’t like having her picture taken? Or maybe they got in a fight and don’t speak?”

“No, no, something…something feels off.”

“Want me to search her name?” Jake offered.

“Carole Bradshaw. With an e.”

“Got it,” Jake nodded as his fingers typed quickly into the search bar. His face fell as he read the screen, shaking his head slowly as he looked at it.

“I hate to break it to you, hun, but…you should read this.”

As Jake handed you his phone, you could see his demeanor shift from one that was positive and upbeat, to a much more solemn, saddened one. Your eyes scanned the screen, and as you read the words before you, you felt your stomach lurch, twisting and turning in a way that made you nauseous.

“Oh my god,” you shook your head, shoving the phone back at Jake as you abruptly stood up, trembling with upset and anger with yourself. 

“Babe, it’s ok, you didn’t know, and it happened 13 years ago,” Jake said reassuringly.

“I should have been there for Bradley. He was so close to her, and he and I haven’t spoken?” “Well, I met you at 19, and you’ve never mentioned him over the last 11 years I’ve known you. Alexis would be the better one to ask though. You said the two of you have been best friends since eighth grade.”

“Can you take me to Alexis please? I have to ask her something.”

[not-that-syndrigast]

Top Gun Baywatch au

(it's been years since I've last seen Baywatch so I have to base this off everything I remember and the my David Hasselhoff vinyls)

Maverick would obviously be Mitch Buchannon with Rooster as Hobie, iirc Hobie left at some point but we aren't following the actual story line, only the weird sexual tension between everyone, slow motion and sweaty men in crop tops.

Hangman x Rooster enemies to lovers blablabla, been there, done that, I just really enjoy writing people being horny for each other.

And I can live out my weird David Hasselhoff dreams, yeehaw

[tereshkova2001]

You ever get an idea that just won't leave you alone? Last winter the Top Gun brain rot hit hard and then spawned "formalwear inspired by Iceman's helmet". Luckily I have friends willing to enable me. The gown was off the rack though I designed and constructed the shoulder accents myself. I learned how to trace and manipulate photos in Procreate! A friend traced the screen-used helmet insignia and vectorized it, while another friend designed and made it into a necklace. The F-14 earrings were also his idea. (@optimysticals you're the best.) The cuff bracelet with the callsign I made myself (the inside secretly has "bullshit, you can be mine" in Maverick's handwriting font).

The glasses are not actually screen-accurate because I liked these Randolph aviator sunglasses much better than Ice's American Opticals or Mav's Ray-Bans.

The Top Gun logo on the clutch was done on my Cricut, because I only use it for ridiculous stuff like this. Some of it is silver glitter cardstock and the rest is red or blue vinyl.

Photos by Dana Kae Photography at Northlight Studio.

[undeadgoathead]

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My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

This weekend will be Dance Darklings anniversary celebration! Join us for 30+ hours of music on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. There will be tons of DJs playing a variety of songs from diverse genres, including a metal hour with yours truly! Hope to see you there. Room ID: 87236303339 PW: Darklings #dancedarklings #dance #darklings #goth #club #rave #cybergoth #newwave #punk #rock #metal #heavymetal #metalhead #headbanger #electronica #edm #techno #trance #undead #goathead https://www.instagram.com/p/Cbd8CtWL3bW/?utm_medium=tumblr

1 note - Posted March 23, 2022

#4

End of an era: Today is the grand finale of Turntable Tuesday! At least, until I get my grubby little paws on more vinyl. Until then, enjoy this Flexi Disc of Sacrificial Fire, by Ripped to Shreds! Hear the single play in my story today, before it disappears. What a wild ride this experience has been! . . #turntabletuesday #turntable #recordplayer #recordcollection #vinylcollection #vinyl #vinylcommunity #vinylcollector #album #albumcover #flexidisc #decibelmagazine #decibel #rippedtoshreds #sacrificialfire #deathmetal #headbanger #metalhead #undead #goathead https://www.instagram.com/p/CcRZxeHLCgy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

1 note - Posted April 12, 2022

#3

Tagged by @thecommongrave

Last song: At the Destination, by Lake of Tears.

Last movie: Top Gun: Maverick

Last book: Vader Down

(Oi! Comic books still count as books! It's right there in the name!)

I'm tagging:

@818zombie @sickboii310 @princesspakalolo @p-o-s-s-e-s-s-e-d-b-y-f-i-r-e

3 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#2

Welcome to another #turntabletuesday ! This week, we explore a classic: The iconic Black Album by Metallica! This album gets its fair share of flack. But why? Half the tracklist are bona fide bangers! Enter Sandman, Sad But True, The Unforgiven, Wherever I May Roam, Nothing Else Matters, and The Struggle Within!? Each song is heavier than the next! Can you guess which barnburner will be featured in my story tomorrow? Tune in to find out! 😉 . . #theblackalbum #blackalbum #blackouttuesday #metallica #metalhead #metal #thrashmetal #thrash #thrasher #vynil #vynilrecords #lp #turntable #recordcollection #record #recordplayer #spin #spindoctor #dj #latenight https://www.instagram.com/p/CaBvspBuUfc/?utm_medium=tumblr

4 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

New profile pics for Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook, respectively. Also updated my background images to photos of my turntable, playing some of my favorite records. Part of spring cleaning, is refreshing one's social media presence! . #update #refreshing #renew #rejuvenation #springcleaning #spring #rebirth #renaissance #aprilshowers #mayflowers #storm #cloud #sky #nature #technology #personality #selfexpression #records #recordcollection #recordplayer #turntable #profilepictures #backgrounds https://www.instagram.com/p/CcwGpnDPVBS/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

6 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (30 Jul-5 Aug 2023)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 Contractual Obligations: A Love Story in Three Traffic Lights (shaenie) - 56K, White Collar threesome, getting together - I loved all the backstory of how Peter & El had been chasing/wooing Neal all along (and the crimes everyone committed along the way)

😍 some sweet violent urge series (voxofthevoid) - 42K, Avengers WS Bucky/modern Steve - roommates to lovers with a D/s vibe - incredibly romantic & tender and also absolutely filthy [reread of pts 1&2, new pt3]

💖💖 +187K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

The Gold of Your Body (azephirin) - The Old Guard: Kaysanova, 11K - sometimes devout Catholicism leads to kink discovery

just to see each other (feel it all) (susiecarter) - Top Gun: Maverick/Iceman, 35K - absolutely loved this Pacific Rim AU

fish in the sky (alby_mangroves, chaosmanor) - MCU: stucky, 37K - incredibly gentle and warm story of Steve going to the Stark Family Farm for a forced vacation and meeting the mysterious Russian caretaker, James. I really don't have the words to describe how wonderful this fic is, except that it will make you laugh and maybe cry and leave you as healed as Steve. And also you will want to eat a lot of cheese. This is one of those forever faves that I have bookmarked AND downloaded and saved on every device [reread]

like a monument to desperation, two floors high (greatunironic) - Stranger Things: steddie, 6K - from the 'the most remarkable thing' universe, showing us the reason rock star Eddie & his boyfriend (World's Sexiest Guidance Counselor) were banned for life from the Getty

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Game Changer - s1, e1-3, 5

Make Some Noise - s1, e1, 9

Um, Actually - s8, e10

Good Omens - s2, e6

Harley Quinn - s4, e1-4

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1994: "Stress" by Organized Konfusion

Re: Dracula - July 30: Last Night

What Next: TBD Plus - America’s Downtown Ghost Towns

⭐ Desert Island Discs - Stanley Tucci, actor

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1997: PaRappa the Rapper

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 2000: The Soulquarians

Rivals: Music's Greatest Feuds - Mike Love vs. Brian Wilson: Beach Brawl

The Soundtrack Show - Korngold and Warner Brothers: the Sound of Hollywood Film Scores

The Sporkful - Tommy Pico’s Food History Wasn’t Lost. It Was Stolen.

50 MPH - 8 MPH / Next Action Hero

Food 4 Thot - Like a Virgin

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Bone Vinyl

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Good Omens

Re: Dracula - August 1: That's What it Be

Switched on Pop - Your cursive singing is tearing this family apart!

Into It - #FreeBritney’s Dark Turn

Stuff The British Stole - The Girl Called Pocahontas

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Heating things up in Hatch

⭐ 99% Invisible #547 - Cooking with Gas

Vibe Check - Beam Me Up, Scotty

Re: Dracula - August 2: One More Gone

Ologies with Alie Ward - Neurotechnology (AI + BRAIN TECH) with Nita Farahany

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Dmanisi

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Jacko Steps

Decoder Ring Plus - The Quest for a Homemade Hovercraft

Re: Dracula - August 3: I Know the Secret Now

Song Exploder - Local Natives "Dark Days"

Welcome to Night Vale #231 - The Terminal

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1989: "Cha Cha Cha" by MC Lyte

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 2001: The Rivalry Between Jay-Z and Nas

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 2002: "Work It" by Missy Elliott

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 2003: Speakerboxxx/The Love Below by Outkast

The Waves Plus - Hollywood is On Strike. Let’s Burn it Down.

⭐ Into It - What Is Going On With Lizzo?

Pop Culture Happy Hour - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles And What's Making Us Happy

Re: Dracula - August 4: The Mate was Right

Dear Prudence Plus - My Sister Is Doing Everything She Can to Make Me Suffer at Her Wedding. Help!

⭐ What Next: TBD Plus - Tesla's Big Lie

⭐ Endless Thread - PARKS! Pt. 1: Social media gone 'wild'

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Birth of the Slow Jam

Sweaty EDM Workout

My Mix #5 (Metal)

Paul Simon Radio • 1980s

Leo Moracchioli

Hall and Oates Radio • Upbeat

The Loveliest Time [Carly Rae Jepsen] {2023}

Carly Rae Jepsen

[collectingall]

∀ Top Gun Maverick Genuine Vinyl Record Soundtrack & Cover Professionally Framed 17.5” x 26.5” Display with a White Mat http://blog.collectingall.com/TDm8BT 👉 shrsl.com/4fuj5 👈

[svgoceandesigns1]

Top Mom Top Gun Maverick Goose SVG - Mother's Day Gift SVG PNG, Cricut File

Top Mom Top Gun Maverick Goose SVG, Mother's Day Gift SVG PNG EPS DXF PDF, Cricut File, Instant Download File, Cricut File Silhouette Art, Logo Design, Designs For Shirts. ♥ Welcome to SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Store! ♥ ► PLEASE NOTE: – Since this item is digital, no physical product will be sent to you. – Your files will be ready to download immediately after your purchase. Once payment has been completed, SVG Ocean Designs will send you an email letting you know your File is ready for Download. You may also check your Order/Purchase History on SVG Ocean Designs website and it should be available for download there as well. – Please make sure you have the right software required and knowledge to use this graphic before making your purchase. – Due to monitor differences and your printer settings, the actual colors of your printed product may vary slightly. – Due to the digital nature of this listing, there are “no refunds or exchanges”. – If you have a specific Design you would like made, just message me! I will be more than glad to create a Custom Oder for you. ► YOU RECEIVE: This listing includes a zip file with the following formats: – SVG File (check your software to confirm it is compatible with your machine): Includes wording in both white and black (SVG only). Other files are black wording. – PNG File: PNG High Resolution 300 dpi Clipart (transparent background – resize smaller and slightly larger without loss of quality). – DXF: high resolution, perfect for print and many more. – EPS: high resolution, perfect for print, Design and many more. ► USAGE: – Can be used with Cricut Design Space, Silhouette Cameo, Silhouette Studio, Adobe Illustrator, ...and any other software or machines that work with SVG/PNG files. Please make sure your machine and software are compatible before purchasing. – You can edit, resize and change colors in any vector or cutting software like Inkscape, Adobe illustrator, Cricut design space, etc. SVG cut files are perfect for all your DIY projects or handmade business Product. You can use them for T-shirts, scrapbooks, wall vinyls, stickers, invitations cards, web and more!!! Perfect for T-shirts, iron-ons, mugs, printables, card making, scrapbooking, etc. ►TERMS OF USE: – NO refunds on digital products. Please contact me if you experience any problems with the purchase. – Watermark and wood background won’t be shown in the downloaded files. – Please DO NOT resell, distribute, share, copy, or reproduce my designs. – Customer service and satisfaction is our top priority. If you have any questions before placing orders, please contact with us via email "support@svgoceandesigns.com". – New products and latest trends =>> Click Here . Thank you so much for visiting our store! SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Read the full article

[bobfloydssunnies]

the top gun collection grew again today cause my top gun maverick vinyl came and i picked up the og one a couple weeks ago

[cosmicanakin]

DIARY ⟢

⋆ 𓂃 ݁ ੭୧ ᳝ ࣪ ﹙ 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. ﹚

ᯓ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑.

⟡ 𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ִ𓂃 ⋆

C O S M I C A N A K I N ও ݁.﹒ i'm karissa 𓇼 but better known as kari. she ﾉ her ┊ twenty ┊ latina ┊ straight ┊ 𝐚 𝐮 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐫 virgo sun aries moon capricorn rising 𓂃 ݁ ੭୧

. . . 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑-𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

001. ꣑୧ movies / shows. supernatural the vampire diaries outer banks pineapple express peaky blinders transformers saga training day she's all that. singles jennifer's body that '70s show criminal minds sons of anarchy step up the great gatsby top gun & top gun maverick lords of dogtown american me step brothers gilmore girls spider-man fear the crow sixteen candles lost boys the craft takers fast saga erin brockovich elvis 2022 boyz in the hood desperado the boys tombstone ghost rider dawson's creek dark angel euphoria

002. ꣑୧ celebrities / actors / characters. jensen ackles paul walker dean winchester sam winchester castiel damon salvatore vinnie hacker hayden christensen zayn malik henry cavill brian o'conner beau arlen tupac megan fox jay adams cindy kimberly madelyn cline drew starkey jeffrey dean morgan jessica alba stevie nicks marilyn monroe zoe kravitz channing tatum tom hardy miles teller matt dillon chris cornell layne stayley eddie vedder heath ledger chad michael murray

003. ꣑୧ bands / artists. korn alice in chains led zeppelin kiss rihanna zayn metallica the white stripes the weeknd linkin park p.o.d mack 10 tool blondie the neighbourhood mötley crüe kendrick lamar the rolling stones stone temple pilots m83 limp bizkit bon jovi soundgarden pearl jam the cranberries foster the people oasis coldplay the doors mazzy star evanescence the animals jack & jack yeah whatever godsmack staind hozier yeat 21 savage metro boomin the verve sublime lana del rey journey billy idol future aventura eminem j. cole red hot chili peppers kurupt kings of leon tamia fleetwood mac kali uchis christina aguilera

004. ꣑୧ more details about kar. writing! bass solos! acoustic guitars! wrist tats! pre rolled blunts! karaoke! almond nails! iced vanilla lattes! cat luvr! deep sleeper! sunsets! late night drives! classic cars! kim k core! pigtails n bows! vinyl records! lace cropped tees! baggy jeans! juicy couture! tiny plushies! tote bags! chuck taylors! old skool vans! y2k mcbling coded! hoop earrings! blurry pics! nose rings! butterfly clips! long flowy skirts! bejeweled lighters! toffee lip liner! juicy lip gloss! cherry vanilla coca cola! dachshund puppies! dilfluvr! '00s baby! dickies 874!

[caveiratimida]

A Nick Bradshaw & Bradley Bradshaw Playlist

Sometimes all you need is music to feel close to someone who isn't there anymore.

(Top Gun: songs Goose has sung for his son, chronologically curated) ____________________________________________________

If you can't on Spotify here is the list in another form:

John Denver - Leaving on a Jet Plane

John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads

Billy Joel - Vienna

Simon & Garfunkel - The Boxer

Neil Young - Heart Of Gold

Eddie Rabbitt - I Love a Rainy Night

Donovan - Catch the Wind

Arlo Guthrie - The City of New Orleans

Kenny Rogers - The Gambler

Peter, Paul and Mary - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

Bob Seger - Old Time Rock & Roll

Buffalo Springfield - For What It's Worth

Peter, Paul and Mary - Blowin' in the Wind

John Denver - Back Home Again

Harry Chapin - Circle

Harry Chapin - Saturday Morning - Live; 1975

John Denver - Sunshine On My Shoulders

Don McLean - Vincent

Yusuf / Cat Stevens - If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out

Yusuf / Cat Stevens - Oh Very Young

Simon & Garfunkel - Homeward Bound

Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin'

Johnny Cash - One Piece at a Time

Johnny Cash - A Boy Named Sue (Live at San Quentin State Prison, San Quentin, CA - February 1969)

Kenny Rogers - Sleep Tight, Goodnight Man

Pete Seeger - Red River Valley

Bob Dylan - When the Ship Comes In

Traveling Wilburys - End Of The Line

Bob Dylan - House of the Risin' Sun

Bob Dylan - Restless Farewell

Waylon Jennings - Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to Be Cowboys

Don McLean - Empty Chairs

Harry Chapin - Cat's in the Cradle

Yusuf / Cat Stevens - Father And Son

This was very much inspired by this thought I had and this amazing piece of art by @odestolovers

[yikes-00]

Front and back of my new sweatshirt I made!!!!!