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translatemunson · 14 days ago

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file 003 — things never go as planned

chapter three of death defying acts

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, no descriptions of reader (i'm really trying to keep my descriptions of her and her background to a minimum so i can be inclusive to all people, but let me know if i can improve), no use of y/n, reader has a call sign (i had to pick one, it makes sense for the story), innacuracies about the navy, topgun and army (i did my best guys), this takes places after the events of the movie, lmk if i missed anything.

You’re sitting in the lecture room — which is basically one of the empty rooms in the Hangar One, but with chairs, a screen and a white board — after the first mission simulation. According to the schedule, you’ll have one every two weeks, and this weeks’ you were assessing a few pieces of information, passing them over the radio, giving your notes and plans to the mission chief.

You really hoped you could take the lead first thing after arriving in San Diego, however maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Because that simulation was shitty. The worst in your life. Of course you had a few highlights, such as the speed you were dealing with the readings and breaches you’re seeing while watching the pilots, but it was a shit show.

Maverick was making everyone go through their data, pointing out what can be improved. You exhaled each time you noticed something that flew under your radar during the first week. This was nothing like previous simulations you were part off.

“Officer Hyde, anything you wanna point out on this run?” For the first time, Maverick asked for your contribution to that lecture.

You looked at the screen, then at your tablet and notes. Bradley Bradshaw’s mission run. Aside from the briefing, the aviators weren’t given much information about what was working or not during training, just direct orders of what to do. On the other side of the comms, you knew what worked and what was doomed to fail.

You remember telling Officer Stewart about Bradshaw’s time being over the mark, which was a crucial factor into this simulation. You looked over his stats again, “Lieutenant Bradshaw opted for not using all of the power of his jet, which led to failure to reach the target in the estimated time. Even though he was one of the few that went undetected by the defense system, he failed to follow the briefing and mission chief’s orders.”

“What could he have done to improve his time?”

“First of all, he should’ve taken advantage of his jet speed.” You felt like stepping on eggshells, but it was true. “With max speed, he would be reaching the target even faster, since his lines are sharper than most.”

“There’s many ways to fly a mission, Officer.” Since you were sitting on the last row of chairs, you couldn’t see much of his face as he spoke.

“Oh, not this again, Rooster,” Hangman interjected. “We’ve been here before, just suck it up and admit you’re wrong.”

“I know, Lieutenant, but your way wasn’t fast enough, which was the main goal of this simulation,” you replied in a low and controlled voice. “I wouldn’t point out your lack of speed if there wasn’t a problem.”

Maverick didn’t give him much room to reply back, moving to Phoenix and Bob’s simulation. You went back to taking notes, ignoring all the irrelevant information that was shared — i.e., their clapbacks at each other.

Intelligence work was mostly about collecting data, analyzing it really quickly, and filling out reports or action plans for someone else to use. If what your mom dug up was right, the Intelligence team acting in Europe was looking for a new Officer, and they were testing a few candidates in all aspects, sending them out to missions and teams that are hard to work with.

The lecture took an eternity to wrap up.

“Hyde, can you stay back for a moment?” Maverick asked.

You piled up your tablet and notes, and waited for everyone to leave. Bob and Nat mouthed You’re screwed jokingly, and you held back your laughter.

“Officer Stewart sent me your reports this morning,” he pulled a folder from the simulation notes. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I do remember seeing you in your mother’s arms a few times when Warbird was still being deployed,” he added. “I always thought you would end up in the sky.”

“They’re happy that I decided on a desk in front of the screens rather than inside of a cockpit.” You pressed your stuff closer to your chest. “Is there anything you wanna discuss about the simulation reports, sir?”

“No, everything’s good. Hope to have you around more.” Two compliments from Maverick? Well, that is something to text your parents about right away. “And if you ever decide to go back on a jet, let me know.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You left the room, Maverick’s offer feeling like a curve ball thrown in your direction. Your dad’s reputation definitely gave people that idea you would follow his steps. For some time, you wanted to be just like him. Now you were more of doing your own thing, but not too far away from his legacy.

You checked your watch: your obligations with Intelligence were done for the day, lecture was over, maybe you could hit the base gym for an hour or two. You grabbed your gym bag from your car, changed into your gym uniform, turned on your headphones and hitted the treadmill to take your mind away from the last few days.

Against the odds, San Diego was slowly turning into a home to you. You missed sharing a place with Lisa, but having your own was great. Even though you were following the same 8 to 5 schedule on weekdays, San Diego had a lot much to offer on weekends. Or even after work, when you would park your car in Coronado Beach and appreciate a few minutes by the water.

But once your alarm clock hitted 6 am on Monday, you were on the clock and already thinking about work.

So before you went to bed, you were always looking for ways to sweat it out of you. Most of the time, you were using your building’s gym, but it was about time to use all the resources of the base.

The first 5 miles flew by with your playlist of choice and an almost empty gym. You got a minute to talk to your mom — asking again about if any Navy guys got your attention — and then text your dad about Maverick. As per usual, he told you to be careful, because Maverick wasn’t the one with the best record, but had a few higher ups connections here and there. And in a blink of an eye, you were done with cardio and ready to move to some strength training.

As you were moving to the weights, the gym got crowded as the rush hour traffic in the city. You tried to get to the less packed corner of the place, but unfortunately it was almost impossible. Luckily, the Dagger Squad — Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, and Phoenix — went their ways, leaving you alone.

You were rotating equipment with two other people for the most of the time, and by the end of your last set, you were alone on the bench press. You took a big sip of your water bottle and lay down to start your exercise.

One, two, three reps. One of your favorite songs was blasting through your headphones. It was just a matter of getting this done, changing clothes and going home. Nothing could ruin a good gym session — nor anyone.

Seven, eight, nine. Maybe you were too optimistic with your weights this afternoon, because you were starting to struggle with it. You held the bar too close to your chest, and you had to recover every inch of your strength to not hurt yourself.

You were almost there when a pair of hands did the hard part for you, leaving the bar on the holder.

“Looked like you needed a spotter,” Bradshaw said once your eyes met his.

“I can do it myself, Lieutenant. Thank you very much,” you spilled, holding the bar stronger.

“Whatever sails your boat, Officer.”

You watched him walk back to his friends, trying to understand where his intentions lay. Nat gave you a nod, you smiled back. You read Hangman’s lips when he said “Nice ass, Hyde.” and almost flipped the bird on him. The other guys didn’t even baited an eye on you. But then when Rooster looked over back to you, you decided it was time to go home.

+++

You were finally able to have people over. Bob stopped by after a week of intense training and working. Back when you joined the Navy, you had this tradition of getting together over some pizza and beers to talk shit about your instructors and captains, just for the fun of it. Now that you were in San Diego, not in Pensacola, you also had Nat on your couch, sharing a few good stories about your years in the Navy.

“So I walk out of the jet, I look dead in the eyes of the Admiral and I say: ‘If you put me to work with a manchild again, I’m opening friendly fire on them.’ And he looked at me like I was the most insane person on that carrier,” Nat moved her hands, making an effort to punctuate her words. “Sometimes those idiots piss me off so much.”

“Do you think Maverick is leading this mission?” You asked them.

“No, definitely no.” Bob hijacked the popcorn bucket. “Which will be a nightmare. Rooster and Hangman are back at each other's throats for the leading position, and both have potential to lead us to early graves.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, those two have been rivals for more than a decade now. Everyone thought it would get better after the stunt they pulled at the end of the uranium mission, but it only got worse,” he explained.

“Feeling like my transfer was more of a trap than a way to promotion,” you whispered under your breath.

“We all gonna survive this,” Nat was the more realistic of the trio.

“Or maybe not.” You passed her another beer.

“C’mon Hyde, you’re killing the fun,” Bob gave your feet a light kick. “You can put some sense into those admirals and captains' minds for us.”

“I can try, not guaranteed,” you reinforced.

“Which role do you think you’ll be taking on the next mission?” Nat asked.

“Best case scenario, I’ll be Chief of Intelligence for the mission, probably briefing the superiors before, so they can run some decisions, I’ll take those and pass them down to you, maybe calling a few shots if necessary. Worst case scenario, I’ll be doing what I always do: sit there, watch radars and data, write them down and pass them to my supervisor.”

“I don’t get it why you’re still based in the US when they could use you anywhere,” Bob was wondering the same thing that has been going through your mind for the last three years.

Besides a few deployments on some carriers here and there, you were pretty much just wandering around bases in the American soil. Which was lowkey annoying and awfully looking for your records.

“Me neither. My parents tried to find out why I’m still like here,” you pointed to the apartment, “and not overseas since I have a degree, a Masters, I speak like four languages. Why am I still assessing trainings all the time?”

“Have you ever stepped on someone’s toes?” When you and Bob stared at Nat, she threw her hands back. “What? It happens sometimes.”

“I always circle back to believing, I don’t know, after my accident, everyone expects me to quietly quit the Navy and go back to get a PhD,” you confessed.

“Is that what you want?”

“Definitely no.”

“So it’s settled. You get your promotion, we get out of the next mission alive, everyone is happy.”

Happiness was a very broad concept. Every day, you just wanted to get things done, hoping this would get you closer to your goals. Right now, happiness was getting back to your place, having a nice time with your new friends, and letting the work stay inside base. Outside it, you were a free woman.

a/n: happy 2025 guys! sorry for taking a little longer to update the series: i was moving, but now i'm settled and ready for this new year! as per usual, don't forget to like, comment and reblog, all support is valid! see ya soon (and if you missed, i published this cute drabble with rooster last month). love ya!

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick series #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley brawshaw x female!reader #bradley brawshaw x you #bradley brawshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun

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translatemunson · 20 days ago

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i fixed my sleep just for my anxiety and insomnia to team up and fuck me up

#i close my eyes but i just cant #tried counting sheeps and everything #effie talks

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translatemunson · 21 days ago

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ok, i believe i did one of those last year, so i’m gonna do it again and start a tradition. effie’s recap under the cut!

i mean, i made some pretty big decisions for 2024. first of them: getting a breast reduction. it changed my life, and i’m not even kidding. the pre op, the day of the surgery, and the post op likely changed my brain chemistry the ways i couldn’t imagine. (this is me encouraging you to do the things that scare te hell out of you). i have a better relationship with my body now, i have more confidence to wear the clothes i want (and even experiment with things i had to put aside), i can go to gym and really see the changes in my body and mental health.

when i was most excited to get done with my last uni semester, my uni went on a strike. and i had nothing to do but wait for almost 3 months. i worked, i read, i wrote, i watched tv shows on a binge fever. and i survived. it kinda taught me how to push myself to do stuff even though i’m gonna still sit and watch the opportunities walk away from me on that moment. also now i can better understand my depression, my anxiety, and how to avoid spiraling down when those two meet.

i graduated. i applied for cool jobs, and got rejected. but them applied again and got opportunities. (and while this was sitting in my drafts, i got a call from one of the places i had zero hope they were gonna hire me, and guess what they hired me!) got to see my friends thriving! i’m slowly reestructuring my life in a new place, and making plans to move somewhere else in the neat future... life is good right now. and i know january effie would not believe everything that happened to us, but she would definitely be proud of us.

hope y’all have a wonderful 2025 ✨

with love,

effie

#effie talks

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translatemunson · 25 days ago

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thank you bc now i’m gonna walk into the school i’ll be working next year waiting to meet a bradley bradshaw there 😭

like real people do (bradley bradshaw x reader professor!au)

just a lil one-shot for the end of the year that i wrote ages ago and forgot about! currently undecided on if i'll be doing more in this universe, so i'll leave it as standalone for now

synopsis: usually strict and formidable, professor bradshaw seems to be softening, after a decade of teaching. his senior class have a theory that it has something to do with the pretty new english teacher down the hall.

warnings: female reader, shorter than bradley, other than that nothing! just fluff

It was well known amongst the students at Elderwood that Professor Bradshaw was tough. Not harsh, per se, but he had incredibly high standards, and held each and every student to them. Deadlines could not be extended, reading had to be done thoroughly, and only those with true determination were ever able to achieve the top grades in his classes.

His reputation far preceded him, and yet he was still one of the most popular teachers in the school. His history lessons were full of colour and intrigue, rarely sticking to the assigned course specifications. He taught what the students wanted, what they were interested in, and they loved him for it.

His current senior class had been with him since freshman year. They were well accustomed to his moods and whims, the last minute pop quizzes and essays assigned on random topics. Building a rapport had taken some time, and they were all planning on making the most of their final classes with him.

Professor Bradshaw was ultimately, predictable. If you were willing to work hard, you'd get by fine. One can only imagine the confusion faced by the class one September morning, when they'd been due to present their reports on a book of their choice that they'd read over summer. Yet, the lesson had begun like any other.

Only towards the end of the class, did anyone speak up. Everyone had been convinced that he was just building up to the reports.

"Sir?" Maisie Ellis began, raising her hand. "We were supposed to do our presentations this period?"

"Hm?" Bradley replied, absent-mindedly looking up from the stack of papers on his desk. "Oh. Right. I forgot. Take another week to polish them up, and we'll come back to it on Thursday the 1st."

If Bradley glanced up at that moment, he would be faced with a sea of slack jaws and wide eyes. Professor Bradshaw did not forget anything. Once in a previous year there had been a fire drill during his class, and he'd made them do their presentations outside in the freezing cold so as not to miss any learning time. He'd been known to write to students while they were on holiday, so as to remind them of re-sits and summer school dates.

"Maybe he's dying."

"Principal Simpson finally laid him off after years of not sticking to the curriculum-"

"I bet he got laid last night-"

"Ew! Don't be so gross-"

After much discussion over lunch, the students come to the conclusion that it must have been a fluke. Everyone forgets things sometimes, right? It doesn't have to mean anything.

Until they got their first paper of the year back, and not a single person failed. Professor Bradshaw liked to scare his class into working harder right at the beginning, and always failed at least a quarter. It had been that way for years. Never before in Elderwood's history had the full class passed the first paper of the year. And they checked diligently, reaching out to all of Bradley's former pupils that they could find. It was an anomaly.

Elderwood, a small boarding school in the middle of nowhere. What could possibly be more interesting to a bunch of bored seniors than trying to work out the reason for Professor Bradshaw's sudden change in behaviour?

Maisie's the first one to begin to put the puzzle pieces together. It starts with the weekly assemblies. Usually not one to even attend, he's now present for every single one, sitting in the front row. Right next to the school's newest English teacher.

***

You're late to lunch. It hadn't been your fault. One of your students, Daisy had lost a necklace that was very sentimental to her, so the two of you had spent half an hour on your hands and knees in the class looking for it, only to eventually find it tucked into her notebook. Unfortunately for you, the school cafeteria only serves food for the first half hour of the break. Try as you might, sprinting across campus, you don't quite make it in time.

"Shit," You curse under your breath, watching as the shutters close with a bang. Well, no lunch for you today.

"Y/N?"

You spin round at the voice, eyes landing on Bradley Bradshaw, the history professor whose class was two doors down from yours. He was the head of the department, and far more attractive than he had any right to be. You'd managed to minimise your interactions with him thus far, for fear of totally embarrassing yourself. "Bradley! Hi."

"I have an extra slice, if you want," He offers, holding up his plate. "It's just plain cheese, but it's better than nothing."

"Oh, no, I couldn't-"

"Please? It'll be going to waste otherwise." His gaze is intent, and even if you'd just eaten twelve pizzas in a row, you know you'd say yes, to appease him.

"Thanks," You smile gratefully, sliding into the booth across from him. "You're a life-saver. Daisy Adams lost a necklace, and it took us ages to find it."

Bradley pushes the plate to you, and grins. "I distinctly remember looking for at least two rings, a bracelet, and an earring for that girl in sophomore year. Jewellery just doesn't seem to agree with her."

You let out a laugh, and dig in to the pizza. "Good to know."

"You're uh, you're teaching Grapes of Wrath this year, right?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"It was in a memo at one point, I think," Bradley replies. Totally untrue. He'd asked one of his freshmen what book they were studying that semester, the day after he met you. "I've actually got a first edition of it at home."

"No way," You gasp. "That's insanely cool. Where'd you get it?"

"A secondhand bookstore in New York actually. The Lost Bookstore? It's just off seventh."

"I used to go there all the time!" You exclaim. "Small world. I lived there for a couple of years after I graduated."

"There's nothing like New York in winter," Bradley muses. "But uh, I could bring the book in, if you wanted to see it? Or you could come over one night, or whatever's easiest. Obviously I know you're really busy-"

"I'd love to. Really." You smile.

Little do either of you realise, that in the booth behind you both, Maisie Ellis and her best friend Clara are hanging onto every word being said.

***

"I'm telling you guys, he's into Professor L/N. He was like, falling over himself to flirt with her at lunch yesterday."

"But, she's so... nice. And he's him," Caleb Rogers replies. "Nah. I don't see it."

"When they get married you're all going to look so stupid," Maisie insists.

At Professor Bradshaw's entrance, the class falls silent. While he'd apparently mellowed in recent weeks, the seniors weren't exactly eager for him to overhear them gossiping about his personal life.

***

"Maisie, you do not have to get Professor Bradshaw," You insist, taking a few steps back from the blackboard. "It's just- it's just a spider. I can totally handle it."

The queasiness on your face says otherwise, and truthfully, Maisie wants it gone too. That thing is massive. Way bigger than the autumn ones normally are. You only had a couple of students for your Literature of the American South class, and it seemed that all of them were entirely incapable of spider-catching.

You fetch a cup from your cupboard, and stand by your desk, trying to foster some strength to deal with it.

"Don't worry about it! I'll just go grab him!" With that, Maisie's gone, before you can protest further. Great. That's just what you need. Bradley realising that you're utterly crippled by a spider.

"Sir?" Maisie asks, sticking her head into his empty classroom. He's sitting at his desk, presumably grading.

"Maisie? What's wrong?"

"Professor L/N needs help. Spider." Maisie's positive if she'd said any other teacher's name, that Bradley would've subjected her to significant grumbling before eventually getting up to help. Instead, he stands immediately, and follows her through to your room. Not a single word of protest. Interesting.

Inside, you're still standing a healthy distance from the board, having made exactly no progress from your starting position. You glance at him apologetically. "I told her I had it, but I really don't think I do."

Bradley laughs. "It's okay. I'm happy to help."

You hand the cup over gratefully, and take several more steps away from the spider, throwing Maisie a look. Within seconds, the intruder is caught, and deposited out the window.

"You made that look far easier than it felt," You reply, rubbing the back of your neck, well aware that the entire class's eyes were glued to the two of you. "Thank you."

"No problem," Bradley smiles, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. God, even your own body's working against you. "There are worse things to be than designated spider catcher."

He goes to move exactly as you go to step back to your desk, and the two of you end up standing right in each other's way, almost nose to nose. Well, it would be nose to nose if he wasn't so tall. More nose to chest.

"Sorry," You say, an awkward laugh escaping as the two of you try to sidestep each other, failing miserably.

"My fault," He insists, hand brushing your waist as he finally steps round. "Call me if you have any more unwanted visitors."

He throws you one last smile, before he's out in the corridor, and you take a seat back at your desk, trying desperately to remember what you were talking about pre-spider.

"Okay, maybe they are into each other," Caleb whispers, leaning over to Maisie's desk.

Maisie just grins. "Told you."

a/n - thank you for reading!! i wrote this pre-executive decisions, and found it in my word today, so you can have it now that it's edited! i really love these two, so would be open to continuing it in future ig? unsure haha

#effies favs #fic recs #bradley bradshaw

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translatemunson · 25 days ago

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(I mean it might fix some things)

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translatemunson · 28 days ago

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merry christmas, besties!

#effie talks

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translatemunson · 30 days ago

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it's pretty bad ass when reader is a pilot, but reader in a position where they have to work together but in a deeper level???? sign me in!!!

file 001 — call sign: Hyde

chapter one of death defying acts

masterlist | next chapter

It has been the longest 48 hours of your life.

You were supposed to touch down in San Diego on a Monday, but because of an airline error, your flight was postponed to late Tuesday, from an airport 2 hours away from Fallon, Nevada. When you arrived, Tuesday night, there was no time to unpack your stuff, just to find a clean uniform in the boxes, pack yourself a bag for your first day, check if your father got enough gas on your car, get your bed ready and sleep.

You were expected in the San Diego Naval Air Station North Island at the break of dawn. You would be lying if you said you weren’t excited or anxious to work in such a historical place like North Island. Your mother told you stories from when she worked there, decades ago, and your dad said the best teams were assembled there, amongst the Top Gun students. The pressure was on.

You joined the Navy in your home state, but you were transferred around during your fighter pilot training, and then again for Intelligence officer training. After completing the training, you transferred to Nevada to get a more in depth experience on Air missions with the Top Gun graduates, but that didn’t lead you to working with them during real missions.

Now being in San Diego, you knew it was your chance to impress the higher ups and finally earn some well deserved respect for your work. Intelligence Work was just as hard as flying those jets, but there was something always making your next step even harder inside those officers and mission control rooms.

The guy at the gates checked your ID. Once he cleared your entry, you drove to the Administration Office, ready to get your new credentials and get the job done. You parked your black Renegade, texted your mom — Hey, it’s gonna be a busy day. I’ll call you on Friday. —, grabbed your backpack and entered the place like you were on a mission.

It was like being on autopilot: waiting rooms, greetings, new credentials, a quick introduction to your new Intelligence team, a look at the following weeks schedule, a long meeting with Admiral Simpson — call sign Cyclone — discussing all the classified information you had to know about the team you would be working closely with. Names, call signs, previous missions and confirmed air kills. Familiar faces, new ones, a few last names you knew came from a line of ex military parents, just like you.

It was way past two when you were clear from all the first day activities. The Admiral ended the presentation just as his secretary entered the room to let him know he was needed in the meeting room.

“Don’t hesitate to stop by if you have questions, Officer. Your father spoke very highly of you and your work.” Oh, of course, he knew your father. Everybody was familiar with the teaching techniques from the one and only Warbird. “I believe Captain Mitchell is conducting flying exercises on Hangar One, if you’re interested in meeting the Dagger Squad.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” You collected all the files that were designated to you. “Will do.”

It was a good idea to just turn to the parking and go home, but you were curious to meet part of the team. Differently from other previous missions, all your analysis and suggestions would go through the captains and admirals before they made any decisions. But still, it was very important for you to understand what was at stake and which suggestions could be made right away.

You stopped by your car to throw your bag on the passenger seat and followed the path to the hangar. The waiting room was empty, but you saw a few silhouettes on the tarmac, going through the end of the day checklist. You turned the volume of the radio on, trying to gather some information about who was on the air. Besides a few directions here and there, they were useless to find out who those pilots were.

You could tell one of them was arrogant by their tone, maybe even too snarky and impatient. Based on their banter, it was clear they were doing basic maneuver training, and Maverick was the one chasing them. Some good old flight training tactics, you see. For a team that just got back from a dangerous mission — barely in one piece, but still — you were wondering why they kept those guys back for another one instead of taking advantage of Maverick’s skills and getting a new team there. Maybe even with the almost mission failure, there was potential amongst those aviators.

“You’re out, kid.” You heard Maverick on the radio, and more grumblings from the other guy.

You left the waiting room and finally walked to the tarmac. Arms crossed over your chest, you were looking forward to the following day, where you would gather details about their flight styles and their skills during missions. You had something around ten weeks to settle down and learn everything about the team before you’re deployed to a mission.

The F/A-18s landed graciously, and that constant nostalgia hit you again, leaving you wondering how would it feel to be back on a jet, what would feel to be on an official mission. Those days were far gone for you, the idea of flying just in case of traveling, and maybe a few minutes in one of your dad’s planes. But just for a moment enough to pump some adrenaline, landing on the tarmac just before your mind picked up the speed.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” You turned around and smiled at the sight of a familiar face.

“You wouldn’t be backseating if your sighting was bad, Robert.” You joked. Bob joined the Navy in the same period as you, and you trained together until the very last day you hopped on a jet. “Heard you managed the impossible.”

“Just doing my job.”

You hugged him, and finally those aviators started to pay attention to you.

“Who’s the pretty face, Bob?” A tall, tanned skin and blond aviator asked. “Your girlfriend?”

“Keep it in your pants, Bagman.” A woman came from behind one of the jets.

“Glad to see you’re still as sharp as that one training in Nevada, Phoenix.” You were happy to be back with Natasha Trace. She was one of the Navy aviators in one of the mission simulations you had back in Nevada, two years ago. It was one of the first times you stepped in as mission commander, and while other aviators weren’t happy with your orders, Phoenix was one of the few that happily followed them — and succeeded in the simulation.

“What? Did I miss any memo about a new pilot?” Bagman turned around.

“Not a pilot, Seresin.” Maverick finally showed up. “Officer, glad you could join us.”

“Captain, would you have a minute to discuss a few details about next week's mission simulation?” Time was precious for you. As soon as you could align the information you had in hand with the captain, the easier it would be to come up with plans for action.

“Definitely not a pilot.” Just like a shadow to his father, Bradley Bradshaw even carried the same mustache you saw in your dad’s pictures. You two had never crossed paths during your career in the Navy, but aviators would talk a lot over a few beers and drinks. And you were not looking forward to working with him.

“I’ll meet you in the office in 5,” he replied and went his way.

You turned around, now facing a bigger group of curious aviators. The Dagger Squadron. You knew their names and faces now, but that didn’t matter a lot.

“Ok, so who are you exactly?” Bagman, or Seresin, asked.

“People call me Hyde.” Even though your last name was embroidered in your uniform, people tended to ignore it. Your call sign from when you were flying jets carried over to the Intelligence rooms because of your reputation. “I’m part of the Navy Intelligence, and I’m gonna be training closely with you,” you looked around, “and be part of the next mission.”

You weren’t planning on being there for longer than one mission: you needed to prove yourself to your superiors in order to get assigned to missions overseas, with international teams. It was just another mission for you.

“We’ll be seeing each other soon. Have a nice evening, aviators.”

You turned around and walked back to the hall, but before you could be out of reach, you heard someone saying, “Who the hell does she think she is?”

a/n: hello everyone! first fanfic for top gun: maverick, let me know what you guys think! i believe this will be more fast paced, focused on reader and her life as an intelligence officer (i made up most of the stuff for it since it's not easy to find info about it on the internet). huge shout out to the lovely @live-love-be-unique for indulging in this universe with me! i'm taking requests for this fic, so feel free to reach out via asks or dms! see ya soon.

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translatemunson · 30 days ago

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i had not other choice than pick footloose (i love that movie, both versions!)

can i have a cuddle, please?

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader blurb cw: i believe it can be read as gn!reader, but it was written with a female reader in mind (since i mention reader being smaller than rooster and wearing his clothes); overall fluff, a bit of sadness (but nothing major); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve been quiet. Ever since you arrived from your job, you haven't said much. A “hello” when you walked in, a “sure” when Bradley asked if you wanted pizza for dinner, a “thank you” when he served you a slice, and a “be right back” when your best friend called you in the middle of your Footloose rewatch.

He made himself comfortable, because, by the tone of your voice, it was gonna take a while. And he wasn’t gonna finish Footloose without you. So he reached for his phone, laid on the couch — taking the whole thing for himself —, checked the group chat with the Daggers, and started scrolling on social media. Ten minutes went by before you said your goodbyes to your friend, but it took you longer to come back to the living room. He picked up the book he was reading for a few weeks now — something about productivity or whatever coaching talk was there.

At one point, you were back. You looked so small wearing sweatpants and a sweater that was definitely his. Your shoulders were slumped forward, and your face was so blank he was wondering if there was some kind of soulsucking monster wandering around in the dark. It wasn’t like you to be this quiet, this distant.

“Hi, there.” He set the book aside.

“Can I have a cuddle, please?”

“Sure. Let’s make sure you are comfortable,” he said as you reached for him, throwing your legs over his, and laying on top of him. There was enough space for the two of you on the couch, but you still found him more comfortable than any pillow.

Bradley made sure his arms held you steady, one hand resting on your lower back, another one caressing your face. He could hold your weight, your sadness, your silence, because for him, you were everything. His everything. You nestled your head on the curve of his neck, low enough to hear his heartbeat.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” He pulled you closer, adjusting himself under you. Every little movement, and you clinged to his side more and more. “We can play the version where you always say one of the actors looks like me. Hm?”

He tried to get a reply. He gently removed the hair from your face, but your position made it harder for him to see if you’re paying attention.

“Are you asleep, kid?” You hid deeper into his body. “How did you fall asleep so fast? I swear, the only time I pass out this quickly is when I come back from a deployment and all I wanna do is be with you.”

He checked the time, just a little past eight. You looked so comfortable he was afraid the simple motion to move you to the bed would disrupt your peace. “You’re really sleeping, aren’t you?”

Bradley stretched his arm and got hold of his phone. His right hand held you firmly by your waist, feeling you pushing your legs higher. “Wanna go to bed? Make any sound and I’ll take you there.”

You were silent as you’ve been since you got home. He kissed your forehead, and promised “Thirty minutes. After that, I’m waking you up and we are finishing the movie.” He proceeded to spend his time on his phone, texting Nat to check if she knew what caused your bad mood, and then having to deal with the group chat making plans for the weekend. If things stayed the same, he was definitely taking the rain check because you would require his full attention.

“Roo? Bradley?” The words were rolling out of your tongue just like you were leaving a deep state of sleep, slowly.

“Hey.” He pressed his lips on your temple. “Feeling better?”

“A little. What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Really?” You rubbed your eyes. “Did you—”

“Waiting for you, kid.” He didn’t want to let you go from his reach, but you seemed better after a power cuddle.

You stood up and stretched out your limbs, yawning loudly. Bradley sat down, putting his arms around your middle and resting his chin against you, looking up. “Wanna finish the movie?”

“Yeah, just gonna brush my teeth and get us some blankets.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Need something?”

“Just for you to feel better.”

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning, ok?”

“Ok.”

Bradley had a feeling you weren’t gonna finish the movie. You came back from your room with blankets and pillows, and you snugged your way into his arms again, covering you both with the biggest blanket. Even if you knew Bradley ran hot, you wanted extra comfort. He pressed play, and while he ran his fingers through your hair, he could tell you were falling asleep again. Slowly rolling into the deep state of resting.

He held the promise you would tell him everything in the morning. He would do anything to make you feel better.

Not much later, he was also asleep on the couch. Footloose playing in the background until the end credits. Somewhere into the night, you woke up, but seeing Bradley peacefully sleeping, you just decided the couch and his body were more comfortable than the bed.

a/n: the people voted, and they shall recieve! small blurb inspired by a tiktok @live-love-be-unique sent me a few weeks ago. i have an ongoing bradley bradshaw x reader fic, it's called death defying acts and you can read it HERE. hope you liked this blurb! i'll post the other blurb/oneshot before the new year! see ya soon

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translatemunson · 30 days ago

Text

can i have a cuddle, please?

“Hi, there.” He set the book aside.

“Can I have a cuddle, please?”

He tried to get a reply. He gently removed the hair from your face, but your position made it harder for him to see if you’re paying attention.

He checked the time, just a little past eight. You looked so comfortable he was afraid the simple motion to move you to the bed would disrupt your peace. “You’re really sleeping, aren’t you?”

“Roo? Bradley?” The words were rolling out of your tongue just like you were leaving a deep state of sleep, slowly.

“Hey.” He pressed his lips on your temple. “Feeling better?”

“A little. What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Really?” You rubbed your eyes. “Did you—”

“Waiting for you, kid.” He didn’t want to let you go from his reach, but you seemed better after a power cuddle.

You stood up and stretched out your limbs, yawning loudly. Bradley sat down, putting his arms around your middle and resting his chin against you, looking up. “Wanna finish the movie?”

“Yeah, just gonna brush my teeth and get us some blankets.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Need something?”

“Just for you to feel better.”

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning, ok?”

“Ok.”

He held the promise you would tell him everything in the morning. He would do anything to make you feel better.

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