#rooster sample

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

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

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV. 

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

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

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

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

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-" 

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?" 

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor. 

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently. 

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously. 

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache. 

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts. 

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

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

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it. 

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked. 

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped. 

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head. 

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch. 

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned. 

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him. 

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch. 

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

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

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 61

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[killthewhisperingart]

"It's Cold Without You"

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word Count: 2,452

Summary: A perfect description of your psyche while your husband is gone, would be the color blue. When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him, dragging the color orange behind himself, only bringing it and the sunrise upon his return.

Warning(s): Angst and descriptive thoughts of anxiety and death

A/N: It's a little abrupt, but I really wanted to post something. And I also wanted to express a specific energy (my requests r still open)

I am an 18+ Blog.

The house is cold. Maybe it's the slow approach of Winter, or the fact that the heater was busted and you refused to call someone to fix it. But the house wasn't as warm as it usually was. You stopped using the lamps with yellow bulbs, instead opting for either the blinding overhead light, or no light at all. The curtains were perpetually drawn, closing your bedroom off from the world outside, closing you off from the world outside.

Everyday is the same thing on repeat, go to work only to return home. But no matter where you are, you're always miserable. When you're at work you want nothing more than to be at home, wrapped in a blanket of silence and warmth. Though, when you're at your house, you feel lonelier than ever, longing for the human connection of your job and coworkers.

It isn't always like this, the chill in the air. The chill that settles so deeply within your bones your teeth chatter, it isn't typically present. And you know why it's here, but admitting it feels colder than the wind that hits you harshly when you walk outside. Saying it out loud, or even thinking about it for too long makes you feel... shitty, for lack of a better word to describe yourself in your head.

You don't tell him the problems you're having. You especially would never tell him why you are having these issues. Because you know him, inside and out, and you know he'll feel guilty. But you also know yourself well enough to be aware of the fact he knows you just the same. He would so easily see through the facade you have created, look through the walls you've built up as if they were a window pane. This is why you've been dodging his calls, and why he currently thinks you are sick with the flu.

You simply wait, counting the days until he's home, begging time will move faster. And while you lay in bed alone, ponder on the idea that perhaps you're wasting your life. You know it's pathetic, the fact your existence is dependent on the presence of your husband. And you feel horrible, the codependency clawing its way up your throat. It's even worse when you remember you haven't always felt this way, and you don't know what's changed. You don't know why you can't seem to act like yourself when he's gone.

Well, perhaps you do know. You just don't want to admit it. You don't want to admit that you're terrified. You don't want to admit that every time he comes home complaining of a new ailment due to a painful ejection, you get nervous. That every call from one of his superiors, or even one of his colleagues, you have a shock of terror that has your heart beating out of your chest. That you only ever feel comfortable knowing he's alive when he's next to you.

When he's home, it's different. He doesn't realize he does it, but he chases the chill away. The nervousness that wraps itself around your ribs, squeezing until your heart constricts, it lessens. You find yourself distracted by the feeling of his hands on your hips, the pressure of his kisses against your skull, that it all disappears for a moment. But you know, as your ear presses against his chest at night, listening to him breathe, that the problem is still present.

"How do you feel about kids?" He asks one day, standing behind you as you analyze the paint samples for the bathroom after it's remodeling.

And your heart sinks, because you don't know. You don't know if you'd be able to handle a baby with him, let alone when he leaves. How would you be able to calm a crying baby when you consider yourself one when he's gone?

How would you be able to handle his death...?

You think about it a lot. The idea that he will fall to his demise the same way his father did, leaving the same trauma his dad left him, on the child you two have. But you don't know if you're as strong as Carole Bradshaw. You never considered yourself a weak person, but that's what he does. Bradley makes you weak, and you don't know if you'd survive his death. If you'd be able to go on with your life, go back to normal. You don't know if you'd be able to handle your own grief, not to mention teaching your child how to do so.

You don't give him an answer that day, and he lets it go. He's good at that; letting go. It was always something you admired about him, his ability to let things slide over him, continuing on easily. The only exception he had ever displayed, was his attitude towards Pete Mitchel, never letting that go. And you can't help but wonder if you'd do the same thing to your child. Would you hold them back? Perhaps beg Jake Seresin to pull your own sons papers because you'd be so blinded by the grief for Bradley, that you'd stop your own child from achieving his dream as well.

Today is a day like any other, the calendar is marked with a bright red heart exactly six days from now. You tell yourself the house will be clean three days prior to his arrival, and the Bronco will be washed the day before, and you will be presentable the day of. But for now, you hide within the comforter that his smell still lingers on. You've taken the week off, avoiding your job with a simple call that ends with a cough you and your manager know is fake.

Bradley is never early. He's a punctual man. He's never late either. He has a talent of showing up to things at the exact time as expected. And you adore this about him, because you're never nervous about when he'll show up. After ten years together, why would you ever think that would change?

He notices the house is darker and colder than normal. He softly drops his duffel by the door, removing his boots slowly before treading towards the lamp in the living room. And the home looks eerily different. He knows you're sick right now, but he questions the extent of it as he takes in the mess.

Almost all of the dishes are piled in the sink, definitely not the amount someone who has been sick for a little over a week would use in that time. His eyes move from the dishes to the rest of the counter, where mail is scattered. He removes himself from the room, drifting into the laundry room where what can only be your entire wardrobe laying haphazardly in front of the washing machine.

It's not that Bradley ever expected you to be the sole proprietor of the household chores, typically every task being traded between the two of you. But this was clearly out of character for you. He always came home to a spotless house, something he dearly appreciated. Internally he wonders if it's his fault, for coming home too early, but he can't help but be concerned.

His chest constricts when he walks into your shared bedroom to find you, curled into the fetal position sleeping. You look exhausted, even though you're sleeping. For a moment he forgets all about the fact that his back hurts, or the fact he's been wanting to sleep in his own bed for almost two months. All he can think of is you.

"Baby," He whispers, a hand softly against your shoulder. "Honey?"

You awake with a sharp intake of breath, heart beating out of your chest in a panic. Realizing it is your husband and not in fact a murderer, does little to quell your anxieties.

"Bradley?" You blurt, springing up. "What are you doing here? It's not the twelfth is it?" You go to reach for your phone, frustration leaking through your voice. "What are you doing home?"

"I came home early," He exhales, brows knitted in concern as you rush around the room. You're clearly distressed, pacing before you finally stop and run your hands down your face.

"Why?" You dare to ask, voice warbling against your will. "Why are you home early?"

"You sounded like you were really sick, and it was only six days-" He clenches his eyes shut before looking at you with his sad eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You aren't supposed to be home yet." You whisper, crossing your arms. Your face crumbles as you remember the state of the house, the state of yourself.

"Baby if you've been sick longer than you told me, we can go to the hospital," He stands up, stepping towards you. "Something can really be wrong-"

"You're not supposed to be home," You repeat, turning it into a mantra under your breath as you cover your eyes. You can feel the slow burn as tears erupt from your eyes, strong emotions wrapping themselves around you like an octopus around a crab. Faintly, you can feel Bradley's hands touch your shoulders, and the way he rubs up and down doesn't feel the way it normally does. His touch burns your skin, itchy and irritating in a way that makes you want to cry harder.

"Will you let me take you to the doctor?"

"Will you shut up about the hospital?" You hiss, your frustration coming to head as you explode. His hands pull away as you look at him with such venom on your tongue, you can taste it. "God! Why are you home?"

His face twists in confusion, then to his own form of irritation matching yours. He doesn't understand, and typically you'd feel bad because it isn't his fault. But he wasn't supposed to be home yet.

"I don't understand." His mouth is slightly agape as he exhales. "I thought you were sick, you weren't answering my calls, you haven't been to work in two weeks-"

"You called my job?"

"I was worried!" He shouts, and you feel itchy again. "I was worried about you! And evidently I needed to be because the house is a mess-"

This strikes a chord within you. The house is yours. Bradley and you share ownership of it, you bought it together, decorated it together, but it's your domain. Every detail is finalized by you, from the color of the floors to the oven you own. It's yours. And it hurts that he points out how you've mistreated it. It hurts on a deeper level that he thinks this. No matter how much you know it's true.

"Don't you dare talk to me about my house." You can hold yourself back, snapping back at him.

"It's a fucking mess!" He points out, and you know. You know it's true. "It's never like this so clearly something is wrong and I'm worried about you!" You don't know what to do, because you had everything planned out, you knew when things were going to be put back-

And he's home early.

You prided yourself on being able to hide this part of your life from him. Being able to disguise your pain behind a mask of stability, pretending nothing had changed. That you hadn't changed. But now that's all gone. He's taken a peak behind the curtain and now the entire illusion falls apart, like ashes between your fingers.

"I just want you to tell me what's wrong." His voice is lower now, and he knows you're avoiding eye contact. "You've been pulling away, and I'm worried."

You can't bring yourself to lift your eyes from the floor to his face, where you know his eyes are bright regardless of the hurt that paints them.

"Is it me?" He asks, bending slightly to try and put his eyes in your line of sight. "Do you not want me anymore? Us?"

"No-" You can see his heart break in his eyes as you look up. "It's not that. No, Bradley, it's not that." You step closer, harshly laughing at yourself. "It's the opposite."

"I don't understand, honey."

"I love you." You whisper, feeling warmer now as his hands slide to your hips. "I love you so much, there's no one else in the world I'd even consider replacing you with. And I can't imagine my life without you."

He watches you apprehensively, eyes darting to your hands and back up to your eyes.

"I'm scared." You finally let it slip, soft like a prayer, quiet like a secret. He tilts his head slightly, practically begging you to elaborate. "I'm scared, when you leave the house for work in the morning. I'm scared when you go on missions-" your voice cracks harshly. "My heart drops every time Mav calls me instead of you, and when someone knocks on the door."

"I don't..."

"I'm scared that you're going to die soon." You blurt, not missing the way his eyes widen.

"Baby, I'm not going to die-"

"Do you think Goose told Carole that?" You ask, knowing you're crossing a line. Tears blur your vision. "You can't tell me you aren't going to die because you are, and there's nothing I can do to stop it-"

The hug is abrupt, your face being pushed into his neck and your bodies close. You feel nothing other than Bradley, and you can't even bring yourself to apologize as your hot tears drip onto his skin and inevitably his shirt. Your fingers tighten around his back, desperate to have him closer because you don't think he'll ever be close enough unless you're beneath his skin.

You know this conversation isn't done, it's not tied neatly with a bow on top. You know there's an entire can of worms that inevitably will be opened. But for a moment you feel warm again. Heat bubbles beneath your skin, rumbling through your chest as you feel his heart beating against your chest. Reds and oranges fly behind your eyelids in a way that has you breathing easier.

As he silently pulls the both of you to the bed, he hugs you a bit tighter. The smell of him surrounds you in a thick layer, your skin buzzing beneath the feeling of his lips against your forehead. You whine as he pulls away, tucking you in like you're a child.

"We're not done talking about this." He whispers, looking down at you with his sorrowful eyes. "Not even close to being done talking about this."

"Okay," You say softly back, agreeing.

"But you should get some sleep," He advises with a crooked smile. "I'll be here when you wake up."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun x reader #writing #top gun angst #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm x reader #x reader #x reader angst

[lazyevaluationranch]

20-03 Enormous Feathery Accountant

The Blue Haired Girlfriend and I sometimes say that the Enormous Feathery Accountant is the most sensible of our three Accidental Roosters, which is true, but only in the way that "Mercury is the planet in our solar system that most resembles a 1989 Suzuki GS500E motorcycle" is true.

Still, the Enormous Feathery Accountant usually only crows when Something Is Wrong, and we usually go outside and try to Fix The Wrong Thing. Sample Wrong Things:

The chickens have kicked sawdust into their feeder and can't see their food

The chickens have tipped over their waterer with ill-advised hijinks

A negligent human moved the feeder three centimeters North of the exact geometric center of the henhouse

Someone is going to town at the wrong time of day

It cannot currently be mathematically proven that another rooster doesn't exist, somewhere in the universe

A junco is eating the chicken food

A junco is drinking out of the water dish

A junco is sitting on the Enormous Feathery Rooster's favourite perch

The Enormous Feathery Accountant was making a racket today, so I went out and removed some sawdust from the feeder, re-centered it, and patiently explained that there had been no recent major mathematical breakthroughs on the Nonexistence Of Other Roosters.

The Enormous Feathery Accountant continued to yell, so I gave up and headed back toward the house, shouting over my shoulder in the general direction of the henhouse that I was still not able to delete all juncos from the world, and could the Enormous Feathery Accountant please █████ ████████ █████████████ cram it?

So anyway, as I came out from behind the woodshed, I saw what the Enormous Feathery Account was yelling about: some nice young missionaries, who had for the first time in the six years we've been living here, braved the long steep dirt road to invite us to Easter. Oops.

#daily #chicken #enormous feathery accountant

[samaraannhan20]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Imagine: I'm Off to Save the Queen

A/n: this imagine is inspired by this tik tok, enjoy!

Warnings: mitchell!reader, age gap, deployment, I think that's it

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Baby,” I hear from somewhere in my room as I begin to slowly emerge from slumber. 

“Mmm,” I mumble, wanting Bradley to know I am semi-awake, but not fully awake. 

“Hey, you said you wanted to get up by now,” he tells me, sitting down on the edge of our bed. I reach out my hand, allowing him to take it and gently rub circles into the top of it..

“I lied,” I say, snuggling further into the blankets. 

“Honey, you have to take me to base in a few hours for deployment. Don’t you want to get up so we can have brunch one more time before I leave?” he asks me, and I sigh heavily before sitting up. 

“Okay, I’m up,” I say, and lean over and give Bradley a gentle kiss, before turning and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing. “Wanna take one last shower together?” I ask, holding my hand out for him to take. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay. We have the stuff for french toast, pancakes, or waffles. Bacon is an obvious must. Do you want eggs?” Bradley asks me as he stands in front of the fridge, starting to grab items. 

“I want french toast please. No eggs, but yes bacon. Obviously. Can you hand me the strawberries? I can cut some up for our toast.” He laughs and hands me the case of strawberries, and I cross over to the sink to wash them off. We work in tandem and silence for a few minutes, occasionally laughing when I cut a strawberry and pop a piece in my mouth, or in his mouth. 

“I’m going to miss this,” I say, stopping cutting in order to turn and look at bradley. 

“Me too honey,” he says, also pausing what he was doing to look at me. “But if you really think about it, this is one of the shorter deployments I’ve been on. Only five weeks and I’ll be back.”

“I know, but that's still five weeks where  I’ll be going to sleep and waking up alone. Plus, when I’m working with my mom I won’t be able to look forward to you coming to the bar,” I respond, stepping to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. 

“I know,” he starts, and kisses me on the forehead before pulling away to get back to cooking breakfast. “But I’ll call you anytime I get phone time. And who knows, the mission could get moved up and it could only be three or four weeks. Plus, if you get really lonely you could go stay with your parents and sister.”

I pick up the knife and start cutting strawberries again and then after a moment of silence I laugh and say, “or I could go kidnap my sister and make her stay here.”

“Or you could do that,” he replies and we both chuckle.  We work together in silence, and after I finish cutting strawberries I grab whipping cream out of the fridge and head over to our mixer and start the process of making whipped cream. I hear him grab plates out of the cabinet and set them at our seats on the other side of the island as I watch the mixer. I turn for a second and watch him as he grabs serving spoons and a fork for the strawberries, whipped cream, and french toast, before turning back to watch the whipped cream. After a minute or two, I feel Bradley come stand behind me and wrap his arms around my waist, resting his chin on the top of my head after kissing the top of my head. “Can I have a taste of that?” he asks just as I stop the mixer, and I laugh. 

“In two seconds it will be on top of your french toast,” I say, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Yeah but I want to sample it first,” he says, and I chuckle under my breath. I turn slightly and stick my finger into the whipped cream, and then turn back to him and hold my finger out. He stares into my eyes as he grabs my wrist and brings it up to his mouth, taking my finger into his mouth and sucking the whipped cream off. He pulls my finger out of his mouth with a small pop, and then leans down and kisses me intensely.

“Brads,” I say when we pull apart, both breathing heavily. “We need to eat our breakfast. It’s going to get cold.”

“I would say I don’t care, but it’s our last meal together, we should eat,” he replies, before pulling me in for another kiss, lifting me, and from what I hear the bowl with whipped cream in it, and carrying me over to the other side of the island, setting me down in a seat. 

“Strong,” I say with a laugh when he pulls away, and he just smiles down at me. 

“You know it baby.” He turns and opens a drawer, grabbing a spoon and some silverware for us, before coming over and sitting next to me. He stabs a piece of french toast and places it on my plate, before adding another one, and then putting 3 on his plate. 

“Hey Roo,” I say after a few minutes of chewing and small talk. 

“Yeah sweetheart?” he says around a mouthful of food, looking up at me from his plate. I laugh when I notice the whipped cream on the side of his mouth, and stretch my hand out to wipe it off. When I’m done I lean forward and give him a kiss, and then pull back to ask him my question.

“Can we make a tik-tok today? I saw this one the other day that was sad, but I loved it, and I want to recreate it with you.”

“It’s sad?” he asks, looking at me with a questioning look. 

“Yeah, but it’s fitting for our situation. Here, I’ll show you,” I tell him, and cross over to him, sitting on his lap and pulling the app up on my phone. I watch the video once, and then show it to him, and watch his face as it morphs from laughter, from knowing the sound is from Bluey, which is the show I turn on when I have anxiety, to sadness as it starts over again and he really begins to realize what I’m asking of him. 

“Baby, you do know that this is going to make you even more sad than you currently are, correct?” he asks as the video ends. 

“Yes, but then I’ll be able to watch it while you’re gone, along with the other videos we have made together at this point. And my students love Bluey, so I can show it to them and they will enjoy it, not realizing that it is sad, and their joy might make me feel better.”

“Okay. We can make it after we finish breakfast and I get dressed in my khaki,” he responds, and then we sit there and eat our breakfast making small talk throughout. 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay, my phone is set up and ready,” I say as I wipe tears off my cheeks after we listened to it a few times and practiced. “Do you remember your lines?”

“Yeah honey. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me one more time, reaching over and wiping another tear off my cheek.

“Yes. I do. Let’s do it before we have to leave,” I say, and reach out in front of me to start the timer. As soon as the countdown finished Bradley starts mouthing his first line. 

“I’m off to guard the queen. That’s my job.”

“Ooh, I’ll come too,” I mouth my first line as another tear falls down my face. 

“No, you can’t guard the queen,” he mouths, and I see the first tear fall down his face. 

“Why not?”

“You’re not good at it.”

“I am. Really, I am,” I say out loud, my voice cracking as I say it. 

“No, you better stay home,” he says this part out loud, following my lead, and I lay my head on his shoulder before mouthing my next line. 

“But I’m a guard, just like you.”

“Yes, but you’re not a proper guard like me,” he mouths, quieting again. 

“Oh, okay then,” I whisper, before turning burying my head in his neck. The sound stops shortly after, meaning the video ended, and we both sit there silently with our arms wrapped around each other and my face buried in his neck, both of us with silent tears streaming down our faces. 

“How come it never gets easier?” I say after a few minutes of us sitting in silence. 

“I remember one time when I was young my mom and I were at your mom’s house one time when your dad was deployed. She had just found out she was pregnant with you, and she was crying because he had to leave again. I remember my mom told her this. She said ‘Pen, it doesn't get any easier because you fall for him a little more with every passing day.’ And I believe that goes with us as well. We spend every night together, and we learn new things about each other everyday. Even if it’s small things. It never gets easier because the closer we get the deeper we love,” he says, and then presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s just five weeks,” he says after a moment. 

“That’s true. Last year you were gone for like 6 months at one time. That was awful. Spent a lot of time with my parents. And Nat,” I say with a small laugh, finally unburrowing myself from him. “I guess we probably need to go soon.”

“Yeah, probably. Were you going to post that before we left?” he asks, nodding to where my phone sits because we haven’t moved it since we stopped filming. 

“No, not today. Maybe tomorrow. I want to keep it just for myself, at least until you’re actually gone. I feel like if I posted it now my phone would be blowing up the entire rest of the time we had today, because everyone is a sucker for a good military story,” I say with a small chuckle, before grabbing my phone and standing up. “One last smoothie run and stop at Hard Deck?” 

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Okay guys. You are the last class I haven’t played this for yet,” I say a week later to the last class that I had yet to show the video of Bradley and I. “You guys love Bluey right?” I ask, and a chorus of yes’s and cheers erupt. “And you remember my fiance Lieutenant Bradshaw, right?” 

“Yeah, he came on career day,” one of my students says, and I laugh.

“That’s right he did. Well he had to go away for a little bit but before he left we made this video together. Do you guys want to see it?” I ask, and they all cheer. I get them to quiet down and then I press play. 

“I love you,” I whisper as the video comes to an end.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #rooster bradshaw

[tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit]

#im dragon. 00

[lovemadethemdoit]

there’s no wrong answers here, i’m just bored 😁

reblog for sample size!!

#bi = bi/pan #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #i have an opinion of course but let’s see what the fandom says

[familyvideostevie]

how it could grow

thank you for voting in this poll! here we have grumpy!reader and sunshine!rooster going to the farmer's market | fluff, 1.7k

It's early.

Bradley gets up early and probably will forever. You've always considered yourself able to get up in the morning, but he's so...cheery. So damn chipper.

Being up early on a Saturday means the local farmer's market. It's so early that it's not even close to crowded, so you and your boyfriend stroll down the rolls of stalls, checking your combined list as you to to make sure you hit the right vendors.

Bradley waves at many of them, dragging you over to get some pickles and compliment Carlota's hat, to the bee farm stand to ask Steve about new candle scents, to get some iced tea and to hear about Lu's new puppy.

"This is delicious, Lu," he says. "What do you think, babe?" He nudges your shoulder with his.

He's not teasing you, not really, but he is trying to make you talk. You're usually very content to let Bradley be the talker, the friendly face. He's like the sun and for a long time you had no idea what he was doing spending his time with you. You're quieter, rougher around the edges. But he's practically drilled it into you by this point: he loves you. So you let him prod you a little because you do like these people and they always have a smile and kind word for you, even if Bradley does all the chatting.

"It's lovely," you tell the vendor, and mean it. It's no surprise Bradley knows him and his dog's name and everything about the business. He beams at you.

"Thank you!" he says. "Bradley's told me you're particular about your tea. Here, you take some of this new blend to try and let me know next week what you think."

So ensues a small battle over paying that ends with Bradley convincing Lu to come to the Hard Deck for a free drink this weekend in exchange for your sample blend.

"That was nice of him," you mumble, tucking into Bradley's side. He holds the iced tea you're sharing between you so you can take sips from the straw, his other arm slung over your shoulder.

"You're his favorite customer," he says. You look at him. Yeah, right, you say with your eyebrows. Seriously, his say back. You roll your eyes.

"I think that's you."

He winks. "Alright, beautiful." You scowl but he ignores it. "I think it's time to divide and conquer. You take fruits, I'll take veggies? And then we can hit the bakery on the way home and eat on the porch."

"Okay," you tell him. He gives you the rest of the tea and you tilt your cheek up. Bradley recognizes what you're asking for immedietly, surging forward to press his lips to your cheek tenderly.

"I'll find you," he says, and heads to the farm stand, whistling as he goes.

You head to the fruit stand. Bradley asked for strawberries, so you'll get some of those. And some apples for snacking on and blackberries, if she has them. When you get there, there's a small child and her mother in front of you. The little girl looks at you and you crack a smile at her and wiggle your fingers in hello. She giggles before burying her face in her mother's leg.

Yeah, okay, so a few things can crack your exterior. Your cheery, handsome aviator boyfriend and cute kids. And dogs, obviously.

The mom and kid leave and it's your turn. "Hi, honey!" the vendor says.

"Hi, Thalia," you say. Bradley comes here almost every week and when you tag along you love to visit this woman especially and her colorful piles of fruit.

"What's it for you today?" she says. Before you can answer, she holds up her hand. "Wait, I forgot!" She bends down under her stall table and reemerges with the most perfect carton of raspberries you've ever seen. You gasp softly. This is the first time she's had them all summer.

"Those are gorgeous," you say. She grins.

"That tall boyfriend of yours came by last week and I didn't have any yet." She chuckles at the memory. "He looked downright heartbroken and asked me to save some for you special once I picked 'em. So here we are! First and only carton before we bring a full load next week."

You gently take the berries from her and find that words won't come. "Oh," you say softly, looking down at them in your hands. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, dear," Thalia says softly. "Anything else for you?" You snap out of it and smile at her, rattling off your list. She bags up your things into your tote after you pay and you carry them over your shoulder while cradling the carton in your hands like precious cargo. Because it is.

The market is a little more crowded as you scan the veg stalls for Bradley. He does things like this -- the berries -- all the time, really. He looks out for you, makes sure your water bottle has ice in it, buys you more shampoo when he notices you're low, resets the car seat when he knows you'll be driving. You know that he likes taking care of you, that it makes him feel useful and like he's loving you properly, but you wonder if maybe you don't show him the same courtesy.

You know you can be sullen, you can be quiet, you can be prickly. It's not proved too much for him thus far and you're sure it won't drive him away, but you worry that he just doesn't know that he deserves to be loved with the same care and concern that he loves you. He deserves someone who makes sure he has the very first carton of the season of his favorite fruit.

You spot him standing by the kombucha stand and admire him as you walk over, tossing out the empty iced tea cup as you go. Highlighted hair, golden skin, tote bag of veg over his broad shoulders. He's so beautiful and he's yours. You love him, you really do. Right before you call his name he looks up and finds you, almost as if he felt you coming. He breaks into a smile so genuine you can't help but return it.

"Hi, gorgeous," he says, loudly. Beautiful, gorgeous. Bradley is always calling you something that makes your cheeks heat and your stomach swoop. You duck your head and step close to him. "Oh, hell yeah, the raspberries! Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," you tell him. You're perfect. "Thank you."

"Good," he says, like you being pleased by some raspberries is the best thing he's heard today. "Ready for breakfast?" You nod and he grabs your free hand and you head out of the market and down the street.

"Bradley," you say quietly, once you're clear of the stands. It's your serious tone and he picks up on it right away, giving your hand a squeeze.

"You okay?"

You hum. You are, but you need to get this out. "It was really nice of you to ask Thalia for these," you say, looking at your raspberries. "And I...I feel like I don't do things for you like that. And I wanted to say I'm sorry and that I'm going to try to do more because --"

"Woah, woah, woah," Bradley says, tugging you to a stop and making sure you're facing each other. "What's all this?" His brows are creased in concern, the furrow between them annoyingly adorable.

You take a deep breath and keep your eyes on his, determined. You want to be sure he hears this because you mean it.

"I know that I'm...prickly. And you're like the sun, Bradley." He looks like he wants to say something but you keep going before he can interrupt. "And you do nice things for me all the time and I know it's because you love me but also because it's just how you love, and because you're good. And I just want to do more to make sure you know that I love you and that you deserve to be treated like you're...like you're the best person in the world because you are."

His eyes get wider and wider as you speak, his lips parting. Yeah, maybe this is a little intense for like, 8:30 in the morning, but you two are honest with each other. It's how you got this far.

"Sweetheart," he says. "Baby, god, I--" He cups your face with one hand, eyes darting back and forth between yours. "But you do."

It's your turn to furrow your brows. What does he mean?

"You iron my uniform and you make sure I get dinner with Maverick every few weeks and you put gas in the Bronco and you stay up late to call me when I'm halfway across the world and you never let me forget my watch and you tell me you love me and that I'm brave and..." Bradley trails off and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. He starts again, quieter this time. "You're quiet in the mornings but you don't mind when I whistle and you're grumpy when it's too hot but you go outside with me anyway and you let me do the talking because I can't shut up and you only smile when you mean it and you're you. You do love me like that. You do."

Good god, you're blinking away tears at his words. "Okay," you say. "I guess we...I guess we love each other alright." Maybe it's just hard to see yourself the way he sees you. Maybe he finds it hard to see himself the way you see him. Maybe this is just how it is -- you have to remind each other you're doing your best.

Bradley leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. "You fucking bet we do," he whispers.

"Don't crush my berries," you say, eyes fluttering closed. He shifts and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I'd never."

And then he kisses you on the empty boardwalk on another gorgeous morning in your lovely, wonderful life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here! (also did anyone catch the easter egg in this fic :))

#bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun maverick fic

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Shout out honorable mentions in the tag 👀

And pls reblog for a bigger sample size 💖

#Dany polls #Marcus Pike #Santiago Garcia #Nathan Bateman #Poe Dameron #Josh Lyman #Matt Murdock #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Frankie Catfish Morales #Bruce Wayne #Christopher Pike

[say-al0e]

Bad Day

Rating: PG-13

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

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

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

Word Count: 2.3k

Top Gun Taglist | Requests are open!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________________________________

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

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

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

[froggibus]

Lemon Flavoured Chapstick - Mercy

Pairing: Mercy x gn! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Angela's been working so hard in her lab lately, you know just the thing to take her mind off of it

CW: porn w plot, dom! reader, sub! Mercy, fingering, oral, face sitting/face riding, overstimulation, use of a vibrator, semi-public sex

i have so many gay thoughts abt this woman it isnt even funny lol. also have had this fantasy but like reversed ever since I saw TGM and wanted Rooster to give me a mustache ride <3 anyways lol

————

“Dr. Ziegler?” You tilt your head at her as you enter her office, the smell of lemon disinfectant filling your nostrils.

She offers you a glance of acknowledgement, blue eyes peering at you through thick rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair is piled messily on her head, strands falling in her face before she tucks them behind her ears. You can just barely see the hem of a black tank top under her lab coat. 

She goes back to examining something under her microscope before jotting down notes on a clipboard. You sigh—she’s been working on this research for days. She hasn’t left her lab, and though she’s expertly hidden her tiredness with skillfully applied makeup, you can tell she hasn’t slept much over the past few days.

You wait until she covers up her microscope and returns her sample to the laboratory refrigerator before coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her. 

You rest your chin on her shoulder. “Angela,” you tsk, “you’ve been working yourself too hard lately.”

“There’s no such thing as too much hard work.” She lets out a puff of air, blowing a loose honeyed strand out of her face. “I am this close to making a breakthrough.”

“Your breakthrough will be here tomorrow.”

She breaks free from your grip, making her way over to the stainless steel table she just sterilized. She props herself up on it, dangling her feet over the side. You come and stand between her knees, leaning your face into hers and planting a gentle kiss to her lips.

She’s wearing her lemon flavored lip balm again and she tastes amazing. You lace your fingers through her hair, tugging her closer to get a better taste. Her soft hands trail up and down your back, grabbing your shoulders for support and pulling you even closer. You can feel the warmth of her chest against yours, feel the slight race in her heart and hitch in her breathing.

She pulls back with red cheeks, looking away bashfully. “I should get back to my work.”

She tries to sit up but you push her back down, laying her on the table and climbing on top of her to straddle her hips. You lean in close to her, hands resting on the peaks of her breasts. She gasps at the contact, biting her lip. 

You groan at the sight of her like this. You’ve seen her like this more times than you can count, but she gets prettier every single time. That cute, shy look on her face only makes you want her more—only makes you want to ruin her.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, Angie?” You emphasize your words by harshly squeezing her chest, forcing a moan from her lips.

“I-I think–” she licks her lips, her words seeming to fail her.

“Aw, that’s okay baby,” you coo at the scientist beneath you. “You don’t need to think, hm?”

You lean in to kiss her again, unbuttoning her lab coat and snaking your hands under her tank top. Her skin is so soft, so nice under your fingertips. She squirms the closer you get to her chest, desperate for any sort of relief. She’s been pent up in the lab for days, and didn’t realize how needy she was until you showed up.

You make quick work of discarding her coat and tank top and bra, letting them pile up on the floor next to you. You move your lips down to her jaw, sucking harsh marks on your way down to her neck. The pressure makes her whine and arch her back, shoving her tits in your face. 

You pull away from her neck, trailing your mouth down to her chest. The sight of her perfect pink nipples just waiting to be toyed with has you licking your lips. You toy with her nipples, fingers brushing over them, rubbing them with just enough pressure to make her moan. You pinch one of them and she lets out a soft yelp. Finally, you move your mouth downwards and plant a wet kiss to where you just pinched.

Angela sighs in relief. The room is cold but your mouth is warm, and the sensation on her poor, sensitive nipples is enough to make her body warm ten degrees. She tries to wrap her legs around your thigh, desperate for anything that will bring relief to her throbbing core. 

You oblige her, shoving your knee between her legs so she can rub herself against you. You graze your teeth against her nipple and she whines even louder now, hands tangling in your hair. Slowly, you trail kisses down her stomach and to the waistband of the gray pencil skirt she’s wearing. 

She holds her breath in anticipation, watching you plant kisses where her waistband meets her skin. She can’t help but clench her thighs together, desperate for any sort of contact. Finally, you free her from the polyester, discarding it with her other clothes. 

You leave her in just her drenched panties, dragging your index finger down to tease her through the lace fabric. You can feel how wet she is, how warm she is, only making you want her more. She whines when the tip of your finger just barely grazes her clit, going down to trail the outline of her entrance before making the circuit back up. 

The motion has her going crazy. She has her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, her breathing labored and desperate. You know she wants more, but you taught her to be more patient than this. You pull your hand away, landing a harsh smack to one of her milky thighs.

She gasps, clenching them together as if she’s in pain, but the sparkle in her eyes tells you the opposite. She likes this. 

“I have something for you,” you climb off of her legs, digging through your bag until you find what you wanted.

You pull it out and watch the blood rush to her face, the tips of her ears burning red at the sight of the magic wand in your hand. You smile at her reaction. She's used this dozens of times—the thought that just the sight of it now is enough to get her riled up is cute enough to make you laugh and shake your head at her. 

You climb back up on the table with her. You push her knees and spread her legs until she’s grabbing the back of her knees with her hands, giving you a perfect view of her aching pussy. She’s already glistening wet, looking at you pleadingly from between her legs. 

You flick the switch, setting it on the lowest setting and lowering the tip to her clit. The second the vibrator makes contact, she’s gasping harshly and attempting to pull away. You press a hand to her lower stomach, forcing her to lay flat on the table for you. 

You press the vibrator in harsher, angling it to push up on her clit. The action has her whimpering and shutting her eyes, losing herself in the pleasure you’re providing. You turn it up a setting, letting it sit still for a minute before dragging it through her folds and back up again, applying more pressure with every moment.

She arches her back, trying to press her hips farther into the vibe. You pull it away, shaking your head at her. She stills her movements, whining in disappointment. You wait a minute before turning it up to the highest setting and pushing it back against her clit.

She cries out and desperately tries to hold herself still. You move your hand down from her stomach, through her folds and down to her soaking wet opening. She’s already so wet and ready, your finger slips right in. The combination of the vibrator and your fingers is enough to have her throwing her head back, legs starting to shake.

“I think—I think I’m gonna—”

“Silly Angie,” you coo, slipping another finger inside of her and smiling innocently. “You’ve been thinking too much recently. That’s why I’m going to fuck all those thoughts from your pretty little head, hm?”

Your words are what sends her over the edge. Her pussy clenches your fingers, her juices soaking down to your wrist. You lower the setting of the vibrator, letting her ride out her orgasm on it. 

She’s left gasping, tears in her eyes. You move back to press a kiss to her lips, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. Seeing her this disheveled, just from one orgasm, only makes you want to give her more. Keep giving them to her until it’s too much. Anything to keep her like she is now.

You pull away, grabbing her hips and flipping her over so that she’s straddling you. You keep your hands on her lips, “come here, baby. Sit on my face.”

Her cheeks heat up at that, a cute blush falling over her cheeks and nose. Still, she obliges you. She moves so that her thighs on either side of your head, her soaking wet pussy just above your mouth. You wrap your arms around her thighs and tug her down, diving straight into her sensitive folds.

She cries out for you, clenching her thighs around your head. You moan at the taste of her pussy. She’s so sweet it makes you dizzy, and all you want is more. Every suck of her clit, every lick through her folds, she comes undone for you, desperately trying to rub against your face for more friction.

You hold her tighter to your face, fingertips digging into her sensitive skin. The feeling of your tongue working on her and the slight pain from your nails digging into her is too much. She’s already so sensitive—she’s so close. Angela grabs your hair, using it as friction to fuck your face.

You let her use you, happy you’re the one she’s using. She tastes fucking divine and you could die right here between her thighs and always be happy. You hold her close to you, letting her ride out her orgasm on your face. Her pussy absolutely gushes, juices soaking your face and neck. You try to catch some in your mouth, desperate to taste more of her.

Angela is left gasping for breath, thighs trembling. Her pussy is so sensitive that even the slight breaths leaving your lips is enough to make her whine. She goes to pull away but your grip on her thighs doesn’t loosen.

“You can do one more baby” you mumble into the skin of her thigh. “One more, right? Be a good girl for me.”

She shakes her head, “t-too much.”

“Are you sure?” You lick a stripe up her pussy.

She instantly melts. “I–okay.”

You laugh, tugging her back to your face and diving back into her swollen, pink pussy. You can feel her thighs shaking on your cheeks, feel her clench up with every touch. She’s already so sensitive, you know she won’t last very long this time, but she tastes so amazing that you don’t care. You’ll give her everything she needs and then a little more, and watch her fall apart.

Angela’s next orgasm rushes over her quicker than the first two, heat waves flooding her system. Her whole body convulses, legs shaking wildly as she comes undone on your face for the second time in a row. You hold her through it, being more gentle with your touches while she rides it out. 

Finally, you let her pull away. Her legs feel like jelly, and her pussy is aching but satisfied. You sit up, wiping your face on the hem of your t-shirt. You put the magic wand back in your bag and pass her your water bottle instead.

She takes it, gulping down the water gratefully. 

You can’t help but admire her right now. Messy hair and rosy skin, tears running down her cheeks, looking absolutely fucked out. It brings a smile to your face.

You plant a gentle kiss on her lips. “Come home with me?”

She nods, “how could I not?”

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #x you #mercy x reader #mercy x you #mercy overwatch #angela ziegler #angela ziegler x reader #Angela Ziegler x you #mercy ow #mercy #mercy smut

[roosterforme]

A depraved Bradley story you say? Think we can get a little bit of a preview 👀

Just a tiny sample on a tiny spoon.

Two Scoops (Rooster x Reader)

Bradley knew you too well by this point. He knew the sound of your heavy breathing after he warned you that you were getting loud. He knew the supple feel of your inner thigh against his fingers as he fucked you in the back of his Bronco. He knew that every inch of your skin tasted so much sweeter than any flavor of ice cream, and he loved licking you from his lips. But his friends didn't know that he knew any of those things, and he needed to keep it that way. Because he absolutely shouldn't be privy to any of it.

"Hello, sir. What can I get for you?"

There was an innocent smile on your face, and you were looking directly at Bradley even though he wasn't alone. Nat, Jake and Javy started to peruse the flavors in the freezer case while Bradley took in the sight of your body in that stupid shirt you had to wear. The double-o in the word SCOOPS was printed right across your tits, and it was almost impossible to look anywhere else. He wondered if you were even wearing a bra today. You weren't last night.

He made sure his friends were distracted by the rocky road at the far end of the case, and he leaned on the counter and cleared his throat softly. "Sir? Yeah, I'm going to need you to keep calling me that. And you already know what I want."

"Oops," you told him with a cute little pout. "We only serve that after we close for the night." 

Your words went right to his cock, just like you intended. When Nat shuffled closer, he cleared his throat again and said, "Uhhh... so what do you recommend?"

He inhaled the smell of hot fudge and strawberries while your pout turned into a little grin. If he was blushing right now, he knew he would hear about it later. You studied his face slowly, and not for the first time, he wondered if you were about to out whatever this was to his friends. But you simply pushed away from the counter and said, "I always find two scoops are better than one. And you're a big guy, so I bet you'll keep coming back for more."

Bradley nodded and kept his eyes on yours. "Two scoops then. And which flavor would you suggest I try?"

"Hmm... well you don't seem much like a vanilla guy, but the peach is very good." You turned your back to him and strutted along to get a tiny spoon from the massive jar on the counter, letting him get a good look at your rear end. "I could give you a sample," you told him, turning to look over your shoulder. "A small taste?"

Bradley was contemplating hopping over the counter to get to you when Nat asked, "Could I actually try a sample of the Cookie Monster?" 

You licked your lips before tearing your eyes away from Bradley, and you headed for the freezer case with one of the little spoons. "Of course. That's one of my favorites."

#if you ask emily #roosterforme #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 261. brb x oc

a/n: ngl......the photoshoot chapter? yeah (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/210/211/212/213/214/215/216/217/218/219/220/221/222/223/224

/225/226/227/228/229/230/231/232/233/234/235/236/237/238

/239/240/241/242/243/244/245/246/247/248/249/250/251/252

/253/254/255/256/257/258/259

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

-

“Marcus, thank you so much for seeing me.”

Marcus looks at Beatrice above the rim of his glasses, one of his hands up in the air as he checks on fabric samples, “Darling, don’t mention it. I know the photoshoot is in a few days and I’m sure you have questions.” 

Beatrice smiles sweetly, but her cheeks turn red, “Oh, um, it’s not…that’s not why I’m here.” the fashion designer stop meddling with the fabric to look over at her, “You remember…that uh…thing we talked about? For Roos’ birthday?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his smile widening . He put down the fabric samples and walked closer to Beatrice, his expression now serious. "Of course, I remember. The special surprise for Bradley’s birthday. What's changed your mind, darling?"

Beatrice fidgeted nervously, her cheeks still tinged with a blush. "Well…he’s getting deployed soon and…well. You see, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I wanted to discuss some ideas with you. I want it to be perfect."

Marcus smiled warmly and gestured for Beatrice to sit in one of the plush chairs in his studio. He took a seat across from her and leaned forward, his hands steepled thoughtfully. "I'm all ears, darling. Tell me your ideas, and I’ll assure you we’ll have something already."

Beatrice took a deep breath and began, her excitement growing as she spoke. "Well, he…chose purple.” she says softly, “So…I think the purple set you showed me…um,it’s the chosen one.”

Marcus nodded, taking note of Beatrice's choice of the purple set. "Purple it is, then. It's a fantastic choice, very regal. Now, tell me, what other ideas do you have in mind for this special surprise?"

Beatrice chewed her lower lip, why was she so nervous. "I was thinking about…lace." Marcus let out an amused ‘mhm’ “And…some flowers, maybe some details in white? Like daisies- no,lavenders on the fabric.”

He leaned back in his chair, considering Beatrice's ideas with his eyes glinting. "Oooohh…Lace and lavender accents on a purple set. I must say, darling, that sounds absolutely enchanting. But tell me, what's the significance of lavender and lace? Is there a special meaning behind them for Rooster?"

"Yes, there is. Lavender is my favorite scent…and…subsequently, it’s…Brad’s too.And lace... “ she blushes, “W-well, lace is just timeless and beautiful, like our love."

“Hm.” he squinted his eyes, “Romantic and I won’t prod on it.” she exhales with relief, shoulders sagging, “I think we have that model ready, we might just need to add a few more things to it, but…since he’s being deployed after his birthday, oh darling we must make it more special.” he leans forward a bit, lowering his voice “How does Bradley likes…stockings?”

Beatrice blinked, her cheeks growing even warmer at Marcus's unexpected question about. She hadn't anticipated this direction for their discussion, but she trusted Marcus's taste and expertise implicitly.

"Stockings?" she repeated, a bit flustered. "I... I'm not sure if he's ever mentioned a preference for stockings, to be honest."

Marcus chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "No worries, darling. It's just that stockings can add an extra layer of sensuality to the ensemble. Since you want this surprise to be special for Bradley before he gets deployed, it might be a delightful addition."

Beatrice considered it for a moment, her mind racing as her fingers curled and relaxed on her lap. She did  want this birthday surprise to be memorable and unforgettable, something that would linger in Rooster's thoughts during his deployment. "Well…he does love my thighs." she looks down at her legs, the plush squishing together since she’s sitting down. "...Let's include stockings in the design."

Marcus grinned, clearly pleased with her decision. "Excellent choice, darling. Stockings it is. Lace on it?"

“Hmmm..no.”

“Color?”

She blinked a bit, “...maybe lilac?”

Marcus nodded thoughtfully at Beatrice's choice. "Lilac stockings it is. They'll complement the purple set and lavender accents beautifully. Now, let's discuss the finer details. Do you have any specific design elements in mind for the stockings, or should I come up with a few options for you to consider?"

She just shrugged with a little grin . "I trust your creative judgment, Marcus. Surprise me."

Marcus smiled, waving his hand at her. "Oh, darling, you are spoiling me.Now, let's talk about any additional elements you'd like to incorporate into this ensemble. Are there any accessories or special touches you have in mind?"

Beatrice pondered for a moment before an idea struck her. "What about a delicate garter belt? Something that complements the stockings and the overall design."

Marcus's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "Ah, a garter belt, a classic choice. It will add a touch of sophistication to the ensemble. What color would you like for the garter belt? Should it match the stockings or the purple set?"

Beatrice considered the options. "I think it should match the stockings, so lilac would be perfect."

"Very well," Marcus replied, jotting down notes as they spoke. "Lilac garter belt to match the stockings. Anything else you'd like to add?"

Beatrice paused, her mind racing with possibilities, and she just remember something from when she was younger. She always wanted those giant, flowy robes she’d see in classic movies. "How about a matching robe? Would that be okay? I don’t want to…overwork you Marcus. I know you are so busy already."

Marcus flashed a warm smile at Beatrice. "A matching robe, my dear, is a splendid idea. And don't worry about overworking me; creating this special surprise for you and Rooster is an absolute delight."

She knew he was a busy designer, and she didn't want to burden him with too many requests. "Well I–” but he gave her a look, so she relented, “...Thank you, Marcus. I really appreciate your help with this."

Marcus waved off her thanks. "It's my pleasure, darling. Well,I have everything I need to work for and don’t worry.” he places a finger against his lips, “It’s a  well kept secret.”

“Thank you,Marcus.”

“Don’t mention it, now,” he crosses his legs by the knee, “Where’s our little bundle of joy, where’s little Nicole?”

“She’s with my older brother.” she says, relaxing on the seat and rubbing the back of her neck, “I didn’t…want to bring her here since,well, the conversation is…um…well, you know what I mean.”

"You're a wonderful mother, Beatrice. It's good that you're considering her well-being in all of this. How is Nicole doing these days?"

Beatrice smiled warmly at the mention of her daughter. "She's growing up so fast, Marcus. It's hard to believe she's already going to be one…she honestly appears to be so much older mentally. She's a bright and curious little girl, always full of energy and questions..well, what she can muster that is.”"

She couldn’t help but sigh, a hint of weariness in her voice. "It's not always easy, but I'm trying my best. We both are…with the twins ready to come home, me going back to work at the Hard Deck and…Brad’s deployment…it’s well, sometimes I get anxious."

Marcus reached out and gently patted Beatrice's hand. "You're doing an amazing job, dear. Don't forget to take some time for yourself as well. It's important to recharge and pamper yourself every now and then."

“I know.”

“Perhaps a spa day?”

She smiled appreciatively. "I'll keep that in mind, Marcus. For now I’m okay," she shrugs, “I have Roos and people to lean on whenever I need a break. But, you know, it’s worth it.”

“Mhm…and tell me,” he twirls his hand, trying to remember the words, “The uh…your neighbors, are they still being a pain in the ass? The…Haltons?”

Beatrice sighed as she thought about her neighbors, the Haltons. It seemed like they had been a source of annoyance for as long as she could remember and honestly, it hasn’t been that long "Yes, the Haltons are still... challenging," she said, choosing her words carefully.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in hearing more because he did love some gossip. "Do tell."

"Well, you know, they did that whole scene at Oda. They are still weird, Mark is now trying to…I don’t know befriending the recruits and playing as if he’s friends with Brad."

“Ah, the joys of troublesome neighbors. It's a wonder you've put up with them for so long."

Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head. "Believe me, I've wondered the same thing myself. But we’re managing.” she says, hitting the bottom of her shoe on Marcus’ wooden floor, chewing the inside of her cheek, “I don’t get what they might want with us, or why they even…think about doing with us but,Jesus Christ.”

“I know.”

“They are just a pain in our butt, Marcus.” she finishes, tucking one of her legs under the other, holding her head up with a fist as she supports herself against the couch, “But I’m not going to let their noisiness ruin anything. Especially now.”

“I know,darling.” he calls an assistant close and then looks back at her, “Do you want tea,darling?”

"That would be lovely, Marcus. Thank you."

Marcus gave her a warm smile and warmly told his assistant to prepare some tea. As they waited, Beatrice continued, "You know, I've tried to understand the Haltons, but they remain a mystery to me. I can't fathom why they seem so interested in our lives."

Marcus chuckles softly, waving his hand  "Sometimes, people have their own reasons for behaving the way they do. It's possible they have their own issues or insecurities that lead them to act out. Believe me,I’ve met too many people like them.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes, the fashion scene is filled with those.” he rolled his eyes, “So tiresome.”

“I mean, they do act like they are…so much better than us.” she frowns, “Which I don’t get 

honestly. I don’t…see why they’d be like that. Makes no sense at all.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "Some people have a need to inflate their own self-worth by putting others down. It's a sad way to go through life, really.”

Marcus's assistant returned with a tray carrying two cups of tea, placing it carefully on the coffee table before quietly exiting the room. ‘But now,” Marcus poured the tea and handed a cup to Beatrice “Let us talk about something other than them,hm?”

-

Well.

He was going to be deployed alongside Mark. Rooster sighed after leaving Cyclone’s office, rolling his neck and cracking his fingers so he could relax. He lifted his head just in time to see Mav leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face, “Seemed like a good meeting.”

He loved his uncle, he did, but now, “Shut up.” now he didn’t feel like talking about that, “Mark is joining the mission with me and the others.”

Mav pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to Rooster, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, could be much worse."

“Thanks.”

Mav chuckled knowingly. "Ah, the joys of working with someone you can't stand. Welcome to the world of military service, my boy. It happens to the best of us."

“I mean,I didn’t stand you and we worked out fine.”

“Yeah,” Mav begins, “But I did see you grow and gave you the tips of adult life. Mark…is a guy that showed up weeks ago and whose wife makes Bea consider murder.” he smirks again, “Oh come on, it’ll be fine. It’ll be your last mission before the promotion,Rooster. Lieutenant-Commander! Now with no hiccups along the way.”

“I guess…”

Mav patted Rooster's back, a reassuring gesture. "That's the spirit, Rooster.” his nephew wasn’t amused “ You will still lead the squad.” his uncle adds seeing that Rooster’s humor was still nearing the ‘absolutely pissed’ area, “And you won’t be alone, Payback and Jake will be with you, and so will Phoenix.”

Rooster tried to muster a smile, but annoyance still gnawed at him. He knew his uncle was trying to be supportive, but the thought of working closely with Mark for an entire mission was enough to put a damper on his spirits. 

"Thanks, Mav," Rooster replied, his tone laced with irritation. "I appreciate the pep talk. But honestly, Mark? Out of all the people, it had to be him."

Mav chuckled again, seemingly undeterred by Rooster's annoyance. "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at us, doesn't it? Besides, who knows, maybe this mission will be an opportunity for you two to bury the hatchet and become fast friends."

"Fast friends? Doubtful."

His uncle's grin widened. "Yeah,well,I get it. He did piss you off." he throws his hands up in the air “I’ll let you seethe, but let’s have something to eat at the cafeteria hm? My treat.”

Rooster sighed, realizing that arguing with his uncle was futile. "Fine, let's grab something to eat. I’m starving anyway"

Mav chuckled, leading the way  ‘In the meantime, you can tell me about this Navy photoshoot.” he says and Rooster looks up at him, “The one that Marcus is doing. Come on, hit me up with some info, I know you guys will do it this week.”

Rooster was so annoyed he completely forgot about it.

Rooster followed Mav to the cafeteria, trying to shake off the frustration that had settled in his chest. He knew his uncle meant well, but the prospect of working closely with Mark on the upcoming mission was a bitter pill to swallow.

Mav turned to Rooster, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, spill the beans about this Navy photoshoot. What's it all about?"

Rooster couldn't help but smile at his uncle's enthusiasm. "Well, Marcus is putting together a little something for the Navy."

Mav raised an eyebrow. "And you're one of the chosen few right?"

"Yeah, me and most of the squad to be honest…Bea too, you know she’s his muse and he’d always try to fit her in." and since she had some experience with photoshoots and he didn’t, it made his heart fill with joy just imagining her there.

Shocking that thinking about his wife made him feel so much better.

“Are you excited?”

Rooster took a moment to think,  then parted his lips "A bit nervous, honestly, it’s something completely out of my comfort zone." he explains “And while Bea, bless her, will help me, it still makes me a bit unsure. I mean,Jesus, I fly a machine that can basically cut through sound if I want to, but a few photos make me iffy.”

“I'm sure Marcus wouldn't have chosen you if he didn't think you had what it takes."

Rooster appreciated his uncle's words of encouragement…he half expected Mav to tease him "Yeah, you're right.." he pauses, “I thought you’d make fun of me for some reason.”

“Who,me?” Maverick smiles, “Nah,you kids can go have your fun. I’ve never seen anything like it but if it’s for a good cause, then why not?”

They reached the front of the line and began to select their meals. Rooster opted for a hearty sandwich and a side of fries, while Mav chose a salad with grilled chicken. They found an empty table and settled in, their conversation continuing.

Mav took a bite of his salad before speaking again. "You know, Rooster, these kinds of experiences are what make life interesting. Embrace the opportunity, even if it takes you out of your comfort zone."

Rooster pursed his lips, arching his brows, “Damn, that sounds…really deep.”

“I have my moments.” his uncle replies, “But really, have fun. You are all young, you deserve it.” he smirks more, “Maybe next time Mark can join in-”

“I will leave you in this base and never come back,Mav.” Rooster cuts him off but he’s smiling, “Just shut up and eat,old man.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[deedala]

🐓🐓https://deedylovescake.creator-spring.com/listing/gallagher-rooster🐓🐓

🐓🐓https://deedylovescake.creator-spring.com/listing/gallagher-rooster🐓🐓

🌟and a little message below for anyone who has already gotten a mug from creator-spring.com:

I have yet again updated the rooster mug art. When I first ordered a sample of Rooster Mug from creator-spring.com they sent me the mug on the left. Loved it! Perfect. Gave it away as a present even. So a few months later when I tried to order a new one and I got the mug on the right?? I was...confused. So after a lot of back and forth and a re-printing that was an utter fail, spring ultimately insisted that the original sample I was sent was a "misprint" that just happened to turn out exactly the way it was meant to and looked like the automated product images on the listing page (okay sure jan). Anyway, so I've fiddled with the art again so it should turn out looking more like the old redbubble version (seen in the top image with my husband hand modeling lol). So if you're one of the folks who ordered a rooster mug from creator-spring.com and you got something looking like that mug on the right, I highly encourage you to contact support and complain that the mug showed up and didn't look like it did in the automated images. Say whatever really, because they're generally pretty willing to either offer you a re-print or store credit or maybe even a refund. (and they won't want the mug back so dont worry about that)

Why can't things be simple? Wish I knew. Poor cursed rooster mug.

#myshameyart

[cordcorvid]

hi! i hope this doesnt come off as a bother or anything . but do you have any mask making tips or tutorials you could reccomend ?? (like for materials, jaw movement, and how to see out of there) im planning to do a raven named Goose :D

ive been finding some resources here and there, but i thought it wouldnt hurt to ask !!!

Absolutely not! I'd love to answer all your questions. :D I have not looked at that many tutorials, I mostly looked at pinterest pictures of raven costumes to see what I can come up with. One that really inspired me to get things going is actually another Tumblr user I found on there who has posted some helpful tips that I followed along with! They too have a raven costume and they got their resin base from the same manufacturer (Crystumes, they have a website where you can shop for their blanks) Since this post is awfully long, I'll do a read more from here on:

The tutorials I followed the most is this one by Rah-Bop:

Rah-Bop has some tips about adding feathers, making foam-feathers, adding claws to your gloves, making gloves or feet. In terms of material: I used the hinged resin base by Crystumes which by itself cost me +/- 200USD, they sent me a pair of customizeable glass eyes and a tongue.

Crystumes has some additional tutorials specifically regarding their masks on their website! Crystumes also lists some of the materials on their website that I used and where to get them (Like the apoxie clay to do the eyelids, the glass eyes etc.) I did mess the eyes up though the first time I did it so I had to order them from delviesplastics.com (As suggested by Crystumes) Since I ordered the base with hinges I'm not sure how to do them myself but I will have to figure it out for the second fursuit I'm cooking! In terms of other material I bought some long rooster feathers and hair jewelry off of Etsy. I bought a pair of long faux leather gloves from Ricardo (which is a swiss second hand online shop) but you can buy the gloves anywhere else or even sew them yourself by tracing your arm and hand on a piece of paper, then trace the pattern twice on any somewhat stretchy material like faux leather or spandex and sew those two together for one glove each. I bought black fur in another Swiss textile / sewing shop named Alja (not sure if it's actually Swiss) since it's cheaper (around 60$ for 4 yards) than to ship fur from America to Switzerland (Which amounts to 100-200 for the same amount). But if you can afford it: Take a look at Howl's Fabrics or Big Z Fabric. Both websites offer samples! I personally don't buy from them as the shipping costs for me are devastating. I suggest looking at general "furring" tutorials or "how to fur a fursuit head" tutorials on youtube. Most of them will tell you to make a duct tape pattern on your base, draw on the patterns then cut those patterns out on fur, sew the fur together then glue to the base. Crystumes once made a twitter post about it as well I think but I'm not sure I'll find it. When cutting fur in general just make sure you keep the scissors as close to the backing as possible to avoid cutting any fur fibers in the process, it will be visible otherwise. I made a fur top / shirt by tracing one of my long sleeve t-shirts onto the fur I bought and went with that. For the back of the head I used an 80s Mullet/Rockstar wig I bought from another Swiss online store. Other fursuit makers mostly sew fur even to the back of the head but my personal Raven fursuit is literally just a mask with a wig to cover the back. Which in turn makes the whole mask less hot. To keep the mask ON my face and to keep it from slipping down I used the adjusteable part of a biking helmet or climbing helmet. and attached it to the mask by using a lot of hot glue, I eventually had to use some stronger glue as it kept falling off. Since the mask was fairly big when I bought it and rather uncomfortable I used thick felt sheets and glued them inside the head as padding material! Foam works as well, whatever floats your boat. I went with felt since I could easily cut some feather patterns into them as a nice easter egg. Not sure anymore what exactly I used to cover the holes by the beak that I see out of, but it was some kind of very fine dark and flexible grid that I bought from the swiss equivalent of home depot. In terms of being able to see: The crystume base has holes between the beak and the eyes that you can look out of or you can even look through the mouth, both works pretty well and the mask allows for a lot of visibility from within- Out of all my fellow furry friends I'm the only one that doesn't necessarily need a spotter since I can see pretty well. In terms of clothing I pretty much sewed nothing by myself and only assembled a bunch of my own outfits that would fit the raven costume. Sometimes I did buy some costume specific stuff from online clothing stores or went into the thrift shop to buy some costume specific clothing pieces. In general, for your first raven costume just go with the flow and try to keep it budget friendly, as your first will unlikely be perfect. And that's about it! Not sure if I missed something but I tried to cover everything as much in detail as I could. Hope it helps!

#tutorial #costume design #cosplay #cosplay tutorial #raven #costume #furry #fursuit #fursuiters #furry fandom #fursuiter

[planetnini]

when we were young, peter parker

࿔･ﾟ*࿐ A HIGH-SCHOOL REUNION DIDN’T SOUND TOO BAD. On the surface, there would be free food and drinks but on the other hand he’d have to deal with the handful of comments about university, photographing Spider-Man for The Daily Bugle and an abundant amount of the apologies regarding Gwen’s death. He certainly wasn’t expecting to actually reunite with Y/N who he hasn’t spoken to in almost a decade...

pairing! andrew-garfield!peter x fem!reader

warnings! angst, fluff, swearing and my terrible writing <3

word count! 2.8k

author’s note! its been too long since i have written so i used a sample response i did for school and then reframed it into this little thing. sorry rooster fans, i always say i promise i will update but i actually will soon :( i apologise. have fun with this half angsty half fluffy piece. very adamant on part two bc i don’t know if anyone will like this </3 NONETHELESS, ENJOY! 

The sun bathed his eyes in chestnut, augmenting the colour of chocolate with milk and the fresh earth. Peter let out a breath, a relieving kind that sourced from the bottom of his chest as he closed his eyes.

Shaky inhales and exhales escaped his mouth in succession before goosebumps travelled up the back of his spine and up his arms. It is silent– absolutely quiet– save for the commotion downstairs. An upside to being bitten by a radioactive spider was that all his senses were heightened so whilst the party was happening a couple stories below in the school hall, he could hear the thumping of the music and muffled laughter which would ground him to the present rather than blank out on an empty rooftop for hours. Peter stood on the roof observing the sun which was beginning to set as the yellow hue dissipated, resulting in a coral orange tint to take over the skies above. 

Peter wasn’t too sure why he decided to dress up this morning or why he had this sudden urge to go to the reunion because, frankly, the students didn’t know he was and if they did they didn’t care— the only reason they would speak to him would probably to only ask about his job at The Daily Bugle. Photographing Spider-Man was a pretty big deal for a nobody like Peter.

It was pretty much useless when he had gotten the invitation to go to this event only a decade after he graduated. Peter tried to put the past behind him as he focused on his biophysics graduate degree and now his biochemistry doctorate which he was only halfway through. It had been difficult balancing his secret identity, working as a freelance photographer for The Bugle and also being a university student and if there’s one thing that everyone knew about Peter, it was that he took on more than he could manage so it was only fair for him to take a break every now and then. He didn’t need to prove anything to them by being here and he definitely had nothing to brag about (which was a bunch of bullshit) so he opted to watch the sunrise on the rooftop. 

No one would ever admit that it is a good thing to be back at school but Peter couldn’t help but reminisce and miss what it used to be. He had done a lot of that the past decade when he wasn’t busy. He missed when Uncle Ben would drive him to school when he wasn’t bothered skating; he missed sitting in the bleachers with Gwen— he missed her so much… He also missed Y/N and how she was able put up with him for almost two decades.

The soughing of the wind in the canopy of branches, faint sound of music and laughter drew Peter from his hypnosis, making him aware of his surroundings as his left hand brushed against the roots of his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face. The beer in his right hand was only half finished before he decided to ditch the reunion that was happening.

Peter felt the hairs on his neck stand up as the door behind him closed. He heard a familiar voice as someone walked up the stairs using his super hearing so he definitely let down his guard a little upon her arrival. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realise someone else would be up here.” her voice echoed the expanse as he kept his head turned to the sun. There was sincerity evident in Y/N’s voice which made the corners of his lip turn upward, an eye to eye smile that did not matter at alleviating the strange beat of his heart. He fought every bone in his being to spare his old friend a glance instead looking down at the ledge, his fingers traced the beer bottle, “Are you okay?” she questioned.

Peter sighed… Out of all the people he could have possibly met from the hundreds of students at the reunion he was sure that none of them led back to the girl from his past — the world definitely had it out for him by sending Y/N to him. He pursed his lips together as he finally made eye contact with the girl.

The fact is, he had her memorised like the back of his palm even after many years so it was no surprise to see she had grown, “How are you?” he managed to get out as she stood where she was, unsure of whether to stay or leave. 

“Peter Parker…” she spoke, her saccharine voice making the hairs on his skin stand up. 

It was like as if they were both magnets- Y/N being his true north as he looked her in the eye. Torment lined the edge of her eyes as she refused to give in to her tears, though the agony was violently clinging onto her throat, trying to escape. 

Eyes stinging with tears, Y/N shook her head, crossing her arms around her body, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I thought I would never see you ever again,” he prompted once again trying to get her to talk to him but she couldn’t, “How long has it been?”

Y/N approached Peter and put a hand up, slapping him across the face. She got in a decent slap but knew that it probably didn’t do much to leave any marks. Peter chuckled as he shook his head turning back to her figure, “I was beginning to get worried you had gotten yourself killed.” she commented with her arms crossed, a scowl evident in the way her brows furrowed.

It was Peter’s time to scoff trying to dispel the feeling in his stomach, “You could at least fake some sincerity. I know how much you hate me,” he stated and she was about to rebut until she remembered that she had just slapped him right across the face

“It’d be hard not to, especially after what you did.” she mentioned. His jaw clenched as he turned away from the girl and back the ledge with his beer. 

“Is that how you welcome your friends, eh?”

“You have some nerve to call me a friend.”

“I’m sorry” he spoke- it was truly all he could muster now that he stared at her. Peter glanced up and all he could see was the same girl when they were kids. He could see the way her eyes spoke more than her words. Peter recalled all the times she would curiously ask about science, skating, photographing and all the things he was interested in and right now she was begging to know what happened.

“Is that all you have to say?” she questioned as he turned to run a hand over his face as he breathed in and out.

He shook his head and pushed away from the ledge pacing around in his own space, shaking his head, “No…” he finally let out after thinking, “I’m sorry.  I know I can’t make it up to you now and an apology isn’t going to fix anything but I genuinely am sorry. You can punch me if you want, not like you haven’t already slapped me.”

“Now I can finally say I’ve beat up Spider-Man.” she joked as a chuckle sounded from her mouth. Peter caught a glimpse of her eye to eye smile as he repeated this gesture.

“Well if we’re being real, you didn’t beat up anyone.”

“From your tone, it seems like that it will happen soon Pete,” she admitted, the nickname slipping from her lips which had been a force of habit.  She pursed her lips sighing before giving him a curt nod, “I… Uh, sorry for calling you that.”

Before the two drifted, and before the whole Spider-Man persona, she had known him as Pete and he had known her as Y/N/N so of course being around him again after many years would warrant some slip ups because, damn she really had missed Peter so much – too much in fact.

He shook his head in response trying to hold back a smile, “I haven’t heard that in a while…” he uttered and let out a sigh of exasperation, taking a swig of his beer. 

Y/N watched with sympathy at the boy she grew up with and she knew that it wasn’t a good sight to see. Peter was never one for drinking, sure he was reckless but he knew his limits, of course, with great power comes great responsibility but the area below Peter’s eye hung low with grief and a different kind of look that she had ever seen. 

She knew of Peter’s history with Gwen and that when she died, a piece of him died with her. As sad as it was to see her friend go, it was even worse to see how much it affected the people around her. Peter was no longer the same stubborn nerd who also secretly saved the city– he became hungry for vengeance and so blinded by rage that he completely lost himself and Y/N in the process. She didn’t know how much times had changed and didn’t like to dwell too much on him when she was off doing her own shit but every now and then when she’d hear a siren, watch the news or whatnot, she would always be reminded of the boy next door. The boy next door who wasn’t just Spider-Man but was Peter Parker underneath it all.

“I owe you so much more than this, Y/N. More than just being here with a lame fucking apology.” he sounded drunk out of wits end but he definitely wasn’t. This had definitely kept him up at night if Y/N still remembered Peter as well as she thought she did. All their arguments could be resolved fairly easily when they were growing up but one where the other individual moved across town, states, countries even, was hard to resolve. 

“No, you don’t Pete.” she sighed, knowing that he didn’t need to apologise. The two of them had their own respective reason to be mad at each other but it did not make the other individual’s point any less valid. Peter and Y/N were both grieving teens who were fuelled by their own coping mechanisms, causing them to push the other away. They both said fucked up things that they regret, Peter more than Y/N, but it didn’t make it his fault– she didn’t think she could ever blame him especially knowing that he had the extra added weight of Gwen’s death forever embedded within him forever. Any change, significant or minor, can create a sense of loss and Peter became the epitome of such. 

There is a beat of silence that follows her reassuring words. 

“Do you remember before we graduated you webbed up something if we ever came back in 10 years time?” she remembered as she finally took her place next to him by the ledge.

He turned to look at her before chuckling, letting his beer sit on the flat surface as the ledge, reaching under it as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes, Marlboro to be exact, “A pack of these bad boys.” Peter spoke observing the packet as he opened the box.

“You know for a smart nerd and a slightly above average student, preserving a cigarette for 10 years in the future was such a mistake,” she said, “I mean their shelf life must be like 3 months or something.” 

He opened the packet and to his dismay, the smell was as bad as he recalled. Smoking just wasn’t the Peter Parker way and it certainly wasn’t a Y/N Y/L/N thing too. “I found it on one of my first missions around and I didn’t want to smoke them, you did! So I blame you actually.” he admitted. 

Y/N feigned an offended look, laughing as she clicked her tongue, “I’ve been through almost 28 years of my life without smoking, I definitely don’t plan to start soon.” she retaliated as they laughed at each other.

“Twenty-eight huh?” he whistled as if that was such an old age, “It’s been a very long time.”

“Hey, don’t dwell yeah? It freaks me out when you do it,” she stammered as he nodded looking away from her, handing her the beer, “Thank you.”

“You never answered me,” he stated as she gulped down a bit of his beer, “How are you? It was a genuine question.”

“I would like to say good, but I think it’s just average,” she began and handed him back his beer, now they were standing a couple inches closer than before, “How about you? Last I heard, you were living the dream and all that.” she snickered as he tried his best to not snort at her comment.

“Oh yeah, there is definitely something so dreamy about JJ Jameson,” he exclaimed, drawing out his answer as he made Y/N laugh once more.

Y/N rolled her eyes shoving him with as much force as she could, “You know what I mean… About university and your studies– I hear you’re top of the class,” she raised her brows with a slight smile, “Not that I ever doubted that.” she added.

“Oh, no, yeah. I am at the top of classes and all, it’s good,” he replied as a response to her question, “I feel like I have no life.” 

“Are there other Peter Parker’s out there? I think they brought back a different one,” she joked, still quite unsure at his words, “Sorry, did you wanna talk about it?”

Peter has never been an excellent liar, despite it partly being his job, but something about looking into Y/N’s eyes had triggered some part of his brain that couldn’t lie to Y/N - in all fairness, she’d known him since they were children, “Definitely not another Peter. Just…” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m just tired is all.” he mumbled the last bit but Y/N heard it clear as day.

Her lips pursed before she reached to pat his shoulder, “Pete.” 

Y/N was belligerent– emotions swinging from pity to anger to sympathy like a pendulum.

“Hey, look at me,” she commanded as Peter turned to look at her, staring into her eyes, “I’m here right now okay? I won’t go anywhere and you might not want to hear this but you will get through this. You’re Spider-Man right? But underneath it all, you’re… you. Underneath that mask, there’s a human being.” 

Peter felt himself flinch at her words. It felt like a blade had slashed through her chest, leaving his bleeding heart exposed and vulnerable. He tried her absolute best to keep his face unchanged- the apathetic facade he had constructed was the only thing concealing his pain from the world, and he intended to keep it up no matter how difficult it had become. He wishes he could smile but there was this anchor weighing down in his chest so instead he opted to just staring into her eyes because it was the only source of comfort for him right now.

“You can’t save other people if you can’t save yourself first Pete,” she surmised, “Sometimes it’s hard to turn the page when you know someone won’t be in the next chapter, but the story must go on.”

There’s a tense silence that hangs in the air like a thick layer of humidity. It clings to him violently, ripping at his skin in an attempt to elicit any possible emotion it can. 

Her digits reached for his hands as she held them as a means to comfort him, it always used to calm him down when they were kids. Y/N remembered his mother would always kiss his hands when she had to leave for important business trips so she made it her own way of letting him know that he was okay, “It’s time to let go.” she reassured him with a faint smile.

Peter sighed as a tear fell from his left eye, he nodded as she tried her best to smile but failed to do so, now her eyes filled with tears also. He decided to make the first move as he brought his arms around her shoulders, bringing her in for a hug. The sigh that they both let out as they just hugged each other was cathartic and definitely needed in both cases.

Suddenly it all clicked in Peter’s mind…

Y/N was not just there to be moral support or someone to patch Peter up after a bad fight - she is and will forever be his partner. She is the one person who he felt comfortable talking to about being Spidey, a lifeline Peter never knew he needed, until her.

In many ways, it made him a better hero. Y/N does not have spider-powers, but she has the resolve and belief in Peter that he doesn't have for himself sometimes. She is responsible for reminding Peter that he can't be the Spider without first being the Man.

#i truly miss the nwh era #peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield x reader #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter fluff #andrew!peter angst #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman no way home #spiderman #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tobey!peter parker #tobey maguire #tom!peter parker #andrew!peter parker

[the-ace-with-spades]

Omg I am so freaking excited for the next chapter of slow down (you’re doing fine). Like frothing at the mouth, jumping up and down and squealing loud enough to scare my roommates type of excitement. I love, love, love that fanfic and it makes so unbelievably happy to just read the sample, especially from Bradley’s perspective. It’s so much fun to learn a little more about Hangman, Rooster, Ice and Maverick every chapter. I am dying for the reveal at some point that Maverick is in fact The Godfather and that the COMPACFLT is Maverick’s husband. Hangman and the other Daggers won’t know what hit them, they are so clueless.

Also I just recently discovered you other fic ( sometime I feel like) a monkey pilot and I am once again in love with your characterization of Bradley and how supportive Ice and Maverick are. It’s such a beautiful story with so much emotion and I don’t know how I managed to miss seeing it for so long. I feel so bad for Jake as well because it must feel like he’s some how switched realities with all the changes that are hitting him right now, but I also kind of want to punch him for being such a dick.

Finally, I just have one quick question. I noticed that you head-cannon that Maverick is older than Ice and was wondering why that was? I am not against it or anything I am just curious to see how other people determine ages for characters when they are not officially stated in the original movie or book. For movies and tv shows, I just usually base it on the actor’s age unless this is like wildly off for some reason.

Oh my god I'm so sorry it's taking so long, adhd and life hits you at the worst moment I'm afraid...

this is going to be a technical spoiler but I'll just say that there's part two of the series that will be called I took the good times (I'll take the bad times) that will show the sixteen weeks after slow down and Bradley and Jake navigating how to actually be together -- this is where the funny family meeting stuff and first breakdowns would happen.

there will be a small 5+1 fic about Mav and Ice that's, well, that's the summary: five times Ice waited for Mav and one time Mav was ready for him. will be called we have all the time in the world (all the love). Because, a bit of a spoiler even if it was alluded in slow down, Ice and Mav haven't actually gotten together until Bradley was, like, eleven in this 'verse

also i'll say I'm glad you're enjoying monkey pilot! that fic is my ugly child and honestly, I have not expected such warm reception for it... I think I'm incapable of not writing Mav as a parental figure and since I'm also incapable of killing off Ice, he's going to be babytrapped in most of my fics 🤷‍♂️

as for Mav and Ice's age, I either headcanon them as of the same age (born same year) with Mav having his birthday in September and Ice in November/December, or that Mav is actually a year older. I think this is a cultural thing since in Poland some people believe the month you're born would define your personality. It's especially more common in the region I'm from and present mostly in the more superstitious older generation - I was mostly raised by my grandma and still kinda believe that people born in Sep are more temperamental, impulsive, wild but also fiercely loyal and people born Nov/Dec are more cool-headed, calculating and goal-orientated. It doesn't make much sense I'm afraid, it's just me finding the months suitable to their personalities?? As for the 'Mav is older', I assumed that could be a possibility as it's implied that he went to the OCS after college (either in the top gun novel or the movie??) since he wasn't able to get into USNA and I thought that could set him back a year -- and since he seems to have the same amount of experience as the rest of the NAs and RIOs, I thought he might actually be older.

Thank you for your kind, kind words, you don't even know how nice it feels to read your asks or comments. Hope you're doing well 💙

#slow down tag #(sif) lamp tag #asks #my fav people #hangster #icemav #idk? idk how to tag #charlie writes