#topgun fic

[risriswrites]

Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

~

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

~

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

~

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

 Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

 Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

 Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #topgun maverick #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines

[simpforrooster]

don't you dare.

pete 'maverick' mitchell x f!reader

summary: you are sick of your captain not making a move. reader's call sign in Queenie.

t/w: age gap, sexual tension, allusions to smut, cursing

“You smile like that because you think it’ll get you attention,” a deep voice murmurs into your ear. Your body reacts the way you want it to, but you shouldn’t want it. Everything about this little crush is dangerous. 

“My tactic seems to have worked,” you shrug, your shoulder brushing against his body. He's standing so close. “You came over.” 

You don’t need to turn around to imagine the crooked smile that’s fallen on his face. He brushes the back of your neck as he brings his beer to his mouth. Goosebumps rain over your arms. 

“Queenie, you don’t have to put on a show to get my attention,” he admits. “You’ve had it since the first day I walked into that hangar.” Now you’re the one with the crooked smile. 

“But you haven’t done anything about it.” The five seconds of confidence from earlier has faded, and is replaced with the desperation that laces your last sentence. The only thing worse than not knowing how someone feels about you, is knowing they feel the same but can’t act on it for one reason or another. 

In both of your cases, he’s your captain. 

Maverick takes another swig of his beer. Your back is still to him, but he brushes against you again as he does this. 

“You think I don’t want to?” he all but growls into your ear. Just as quickly as his mouth is to your ear, it’s gone again. 

To hell with keeping up appearances, you swing around to look at him. How did he expect you to not react to that? Regret weaves through his features, like he hadn’t meant for that to come out. Like he wanted to keep it in because he knows it won’t change anything. He can’t give Cyclone a reason to ground him.

“Of course, I want to,” the words are barely a whisper. “You have no clue how much I want to do something about this.” 

This. This being whatever the tension between y’all is. Too many things are up against the two of you. Him outranking you. Him being the one to put together the dagger team. Let’s just go ahead and mention the elephant in the room. The one that is a little more obvious to onlookers.

The damn age difference. 

“I think I have an idea,” you admit, shoving aside every reason you shouldn’t say this. “Because I have been dying for you to make some kind of move.”

Maverick’s eyes fall closed. His jaw works back and forth, fighting an inner battle. Most likely to grab your hand and pull you out of here or to walk away. 

You’re hoping for the former because his hand reaches out for you, lightly brushing against your arm. He jerks his hand back, seemingly coming to his senses. Like that one touch would be his undoing. The thought of Maverick having such a reaction to you thrills you way more than it should. 

“We can’t,” he croaks out. His voice is strained and so very sexy. It has to sound like that after a hot makeout session too. 

“When have you ever followed the rules?” you press. 

This catches his attention. His eyes pop open, and they are sparkling with mischief. You may not have met Maverick before this deployment, but you’ve heard all about him. Just the other day, you passed by Cyclone’s office and heard him giving Mav a verbal beating. 

“Come on, Queenie, it’s not just me being your captain,” he murmurs. “And you know it.” He searches your eyes, silently saying don’t make me say it. 

Here’s the thing. You want him to say it. You want to hear him admit the thing that is holding him back is something as a meaningless age difference. The amount of fucks you give about him being older than you are nonexistent. 

“Say it, Mav,” you push. The flirtation you felt earlier has quickly morphed into something between annoyance and anger. Annoyed that he’s having a moral debate about dating you, rather than the way he flies his damn F-18. Angry that he came over here guns ablazzin’ calling you out and acting like he was finally going to lay a kiss somewhere on your body. You don’t even care which part at this point. As long as he fucking does it. 

The mischief in his eyes has flickered out to pain. “You know you should be with someone like Hangman or Rooster.” Rooster? His pseudo son? 

You move in closer to him, craning your neck back to look him in the eyes. Those gorgeous eyes. “Don’t you dare tell me who I should be with, Pete Mitchell.” 

His pupils dilate when he realizes you’ve used his name and not his callsign. He doesn’t speak, seemingly in shock, so you keep going. 

“In our line of work, I don’t want to be with someone you think I should be with. I want to be with someone I want and it’s you I want,” before you can think better of it, you add, “sir.” 

Maverick must lose that moral battle, because he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him. “I am not going to be able to handle hearing you call me sir,” he growls in your ear. “At least not outside of my bedroom.” 

The words, his breath, and the adrenaline send a sweet line of pleasure down your spine. It feels like a lifetime, but Mav finally brings his lips to your jaw, testing the waters with a brief kiss. His expert hands are placed just where they need to be. He slowly runs one up from your hips to your waist. Meanwhile, yours play at the top of his jeans, seeing how far you can push him. 

“Shit,” he whispers, “I need to get you out of here before I really get us in trouble.” 

“Good, I didn’t want our first kiss to be in the Hard Deck,” you admit. “Take me home, sir.” 

Maverick groans, and pulls you from the bar. 

“Our tabs!” you giggle at his urgency. “We can’t skip out.”

Maverick leans into you against his motorcycle. “A bar tab is the furthest from my mind at the moment, Lieutenant.” His lips are a breath away from yours. 

“Come on, Pete, kiss me already,” you challenge. 

“I don’t know what’s better, when you call me Pete or Sir. It shouldn’t be that provocative,” he says. 

“You’re such a simp,” you mutter, pulling him down by the collar of his bomber jacket. Taking charge like you did in the bar, you place your lips against his. The intensity is everything you hoped it would be. He slowly drags his tongue against yours, you immediately grant him access. 

When he pulls back, he says, “You’ll have to explain what that means later.” He voice as sexy as you predicted it would be. 

#pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #maverick fanfic #maverick x reader #maverick imagine #top gun #topgunmaverk #topgun fic #top gun imagine #topgun imagine #top gun fanfiction #maverick fluff #maverick smut #pete mitchell x y/n #pete mitchell imagine #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell

[heartzforkam]

A Rooster for Rooster | B.R.B x Reader

Pairing: Rooster x fiance!reader

Warnings: None

Summary: You get a small gift for Bradley

━━━━━━━━━━⋆⋅☆⋅⋆━━━━━━━━━━

You were out shopping without Bradley. As you were walking you came across a small store that had all sorts of stuffed animals. You walked into the shop.

Although, while you were browsing, you spotted a small plush in the form of a rooster, and an idea popped into your head. You carried the plush to the counter, and the nice old woman offered to wrap it for you as well.

~~~~~~~

“Bradley, I’m home!” you called out. Within seconds he was rushing down the stairs , and lifting you off your feet into his arms. “I missed you.” he mumbled with his face in the crook of your neck. “I wasn’t even gone for that long”

“Look I got you something!”

“What is it?” he asked you, observing the gift bag in your left hand.

“Open it and you’ll find out dummy.” you told him still smiling

“Y’know you don’t have to be so mean to me, especially since we’re supposed to be getting married.” he said to you with a pout.

“Just open it.”

“Why’d you get me a rooster?” he asked.

“I thought it was cute. A rooster for Rooster!” you exclaimed.

Bradley didn’t respond, instead he threw you over his shoulder ,and laid you on the couch, his head resting on your stomach. “I love you,” he told you, looking up to meet your eyes. “I know.”

Once again, he didn’t respond, but instead started tickling your sides. “STOP!” you yelled while laughing.

“Never.”

“BRADSHAW IF YOU DON’T STOP I SWEAR TO GOD THAT MUSTACHE WILL BE GONE BY THE TIME YOU WAKE UP!”

He didn’t listen, and indeed, that mustache was gone when he looked in the mirror the next morning.

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Hope you liked this one luvz<3 Check my masterlist for more or feel free to request something!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster x reader #rooster x reader #top gun imagine #miles teller #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #topgun fic

[i-make-questionable-choices]

#pete maverick mitchell #top gun fanfiction #top gun #pete mitchell #top gun au #fanfiction #writer problems #topgun fic #top gun event #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun fandom #top gun fic #whump fanfiction #whump #whump fic #whump writing #angst #angst meme #whump meme #oops #hes just so small and cute #i love to hurt him

[eri-is-online]

TOPGUN FANFIC TIME (Slider x Merlin)

Slider finally works up the courage to ask out Merlin, but when a very stupid bet is made, what will become of their "perfect" night?

#top gun #iceman x maverick #icemav #maverick #iceman #ron slider kerner #topgun slider #top gun 1986 #topgun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #sam merlin wells #slilin #ao3 #archive of our own #topgun fic #slider x merlin #original writing

[glenpowellsgf]

my man 🤭🤭

#hes my babygirl #hes my husband #hes so cute #top gun maverick #glen powell #my boyfriend #jake hangman fic #top gun hangman #hangman #hangman angst #jake hangman x you #jake seresin top gun #top gun jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun #hangman top gun #topgunmaverick #topgunmaverickcast #top gun 1986 #top gun fandom #top gun maverick fandom #top gun cast #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #topgunmaverick movie

[allbark-no-bite]

cowboy up.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: Jake’s a tease. and a cowboy. it makes your friends sick

warnings: really none i think, just talk of and allusions to sex

authors note: very loosely based off of “Dirty Looks” by Lainey Wilson. it got me into the mood to write a little something. briefly mentioned that reader is Ice’s daughter

————————————————————————

"Well hello, mi cowboy."

It's the deliciously sensual roll of the endearment off of your tongue that has Jake hooking two fingers through the loop of your jeans and tugging you firmly into his side as he approaches the bar. It starts up an engine-like rumble in his chest that travels up his throat and catches, vibrating while he bows down to kiss you. Just the sight of your sweet smile has the weariness of the day melting off of him.

El cowboy, you mother had appraised with great enthuse the first time you had brought Jake home, and he greeted her with his smooth as honey southern drawl. Being Latino and having grown up just along the border in El Paso, her English was still licked with Spanish flare and it made everything she said sound rivetingly amorous. Even after three years of dating, she still widely referred to him as the cowboy—your cowboy.

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. There were some mechanical issues with my plane and I couldn't get away," he apologizes, hence the grease stains on his hands. He had probably only taken the time to change into a fresh set of clothes before leaving base and driving straight to the Hard Deck.

You only hum, tipping your head up to steal a second kiss before he straightens. "Glad you're here now."

Jake has to stop himself from chasing your lips for a third. Penny's warned him about getting too frisky at the bar. It's not his fault when you taste like strawberry margaritas and are wearing those jeans that you know drive him crazy.

But when he looks over his shoulder, Penny's sliding him an ice cold beer from across the bar. "This one's on the house, Seresin." The gleam shining in her eyes tells him that she's caught the two of you but is going to let it slide this time.

When he opens his mouth to argue, already digging his wallet out of his pocket, she shakes her head. "Looks like you had a long day. Enjoy the beer."

"Really, Pen, I—"

Penny's back is already turned as she heads to the other side of the bar to serving an incoming crowd of aviators.

Jake glances down to his well worn boots while his hand goes to his jaw to feel at the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Does he really look that worn out? He has to resist the urge to smell himself.

He looks back to you, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for showing up like this. Here he is, covered in sweat and engine grease, while his own girlfriend is standing next to him, looking way out of his league. Even the Dagger Squad looks fresh and put together. It would have been hard to guess that they had all been out sweating on the tarmac together earlier in the day.

"I probably should have cleaned up," he admits, running a hand over the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He's wondering if he can at least escape to the bathroom for a minute to stick his head under the sink.

What Jake doesn't know is that you might actually kill him if he does that. There's something about the combination of his off-duty khakis and dusty boots that is making your heart flutter. The tousle of his blonde hair after a long day and ruddy flush of his already tan cheeks give off the impression that he's more than just a pretty face. He looks hard working and very, very capable.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?" he hums, having been eyeing the bathrooms, contemplating even just splashing some water on his face.

Your heart squeezes painfully when his dazzling green eyes turn back to land on yours, eyebrows raised in question, fully attuned to whatever it is that you may need. "What baby—"

He stops mid sentence when you pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him. This time it's a much less chaste kiss than the one you greeted him with, and he gets to really taste the strawberry margarita on your lips—a bit sweet, a little salty. The taste makes his mouth tingle and he's not sure if it's you or the tequila that's making him feel buzzed.

Jake's hand immediately slips around your waist, his large hand on your back, pressing you into him. A groan slips out of him when his fingers brush the warm skin just above the rise of your jeans.

The fact that you had purposefully chosen not to wear your khakis like himself and the rest of the crew makes Jake that much more hot and bothered. It's not that he dislikes your usual naval attire, because he doesn't. He loves how it fits you, who you become when you wear it, your signature "Frostbite" embroidered on the front—the name he gave you. It's the fact he's come in, dead on his feet from working all day, and his diamond of a girlfriend is wearing an outfit she put on just for him.

Really, Jake thinks his chest might just implode.

His free hand had been holding his beer out to the side, momentarily forgotten once you'd started kissing him. Blindly, he sets it down behind him, the glass clinking against the bar top so that he can get both of his hands on you without spilling. He prefers you, the taste of your skin anyhow.

"So damn sweet," he groans into the underside of your jaw, eyes shut as he fights the urge to say fuck it and take you home now. "Could just eat you."

You laugh, fingers gripping his blonde hair. "Is that a promise, cowboy?" Jake's teeth scrape your pulse point and your fingers tighten. His body is hot pressed flushed against you, moving as you move so that the contact never breaks.

"Baby, I'd devour you," he promises huskily into your ear. Mav has been working them to the bone for the past few weeks, and Jake has hardly had the energy to climb the front steps when he gets home, much less make it to the bedroom. To say you've both been left wanting is an understatement.

His lips press wetly to your neck. "You look good, Frosty Girl. You know how much I love those jeans..."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed as Jake sends you to that place. That place where only you and Jake exist, where the worries of the day melt away, and it smells like his cinnamon oak body wash and the hint of beer on his breath. It doesn't matter than he smells slightly of sweat and jet fuel because that's just him. That's what makes him Jake.

"Mmm, you do?" Of course he does. Jake Seresin drinks the air you breathe and worships the ground you walk on. "I think you'll like what I have on under them more."

If Jake had been twenty-one again, he'd have a raging hard on in his jeans right now. After two years of dating you, he's developed a bit of self control since then. He spent a lot of lunch breaks jacking off in the bathroom the first few months. All you had to do was rub up against him climbing out the back seat of the cockpit and he was sneaking off to take care of himself before any of the Dagger squad could see the missile sized hard on in his pants.

Jake smiles, his pearly white grin pressed into your neck. His jade green eyes peer up at you with a gleam of anticipation.

"Black?" he guesses, his nimble fingertips already dipping just past your waistband to brush across the lace he knows he's going to find.

"Uhh mm," you deny, enjoying the thrill of teasing him with your secret.

His warm breath fans across your neck. "Red?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a look that Jake can only describe as devilish. "I figured you deserved a treat. I know you've been—" Before you can finish, Jake is kissing you. His pink lips are cool and a bit wet from the beer he's been nursing, but his tongue is hot and slick and wet and it just feels so good.

"Jesus. Get a room, you two."

Despite the roar of blood in his ears, the buzzing in his veins, Jake recognizes the sound of Bradley's voice just a table away.

Begrudgingly pulling away from the kiss, Jake doesn't release you just yet, just moves his head to look over your shoulder. He had hardly even acknowledged the Dagger Squad when he walked in, too focused on you. And maybe that's on him.

"Sorry, Bradshaw. Didn't see you there." You can tell Jake's smirking over your shoulder, hand not so slyly cupping the curve of your ass as he reaches for his beer with the other, playing at indifference. He takes a slow swig of it, unbothered by the fact that your friends -you coworkers- are all watching. "I was busy saying hello to my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

Without breaking eye contact with Bradley, Jake plants a filthy wet kiss to the pulse point of your neck. It's enough to make the other aviator's mustache twitch and his throat constrict with a impulsive swallow. Regardless of how they acted— always at each other’s throats— there was no longer any bad blood between the two pilots. That feud had been settled on the Uranium mission last year and was replaced by new found respect, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t seize every opportunity to ruffle the other’s feathers.

"This is a public space," Natasha reminds him, as if he were unaware of the extremely crowded bar.

Jake smirks. "Oh believe me, I'm holding back for Floyd's sake. Wouldn't want to ruin his innocence."

The weapon system officer emits a noise of protest from across the table, his cheeks flashing an embarrassed hue of red. "I've already told you, I'm not a virgin!"

You giggle into Jake's shoulder at his complait, content to bask in the temporary stronghold of your boyfriend's embrace. It's nice to get moments with him like this, away from the stress of work and without the pressure of success weighing on your shoulders.

Of course your friends knew about yours and Jake's relationship, had known since the very first date, but in nearly three years of dating, they had come to the realization that they knew very little about your relationship. Work was strictly professional for the two of you and even at the bar, the most intimate thing they'd ever seen occur was Jake greeting you with a quick kiss.

"Damn, Bagman, you walking in here, kiss Frost senseless, and now she's giggling? You're telling me that's all it takes to bring her from she-devil to—giggling?" Coyote asks from behind his pool cue, sauntering over to join the group.

Jake, his green eyes gleaming, slips his warm palm under your shirt to smooth over the exposed curve of your hip. "I can make her do a lot more than giggle, Machado."

You groan, burying your embarrassingly flushed face further into Jake's neck. Although your boyfriend may be able to play the nonchalance card, you can only take so much of their teasing.

You push away from Jake before he can start full on groping you in front of your friends. If there's one thing about Jake, he has no shame when it comes to showing you off.

"I don't giggle, Javy," you stress, choosing to ignore Jake's comment.

Fanboy, who is never far behind the other pilot, saunters over and slings an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Giggle? I've never even seen you crack a smile."

Before you can respond, Jake is sliding an impossibly large palm around to cup the back of your neck, fingers digging in to the tense muscle that he knows is there. Relax, is what that means. "Careful, she does bite." He's grinning, a smug, but knowing smirk on his face. 

"Fuck, man. I knew you were into that kinky shit," Coyote quips, and it evokes a few laughs from the Dagger squad, save for Natasha, who pretends to roll her eyes. 

Jake grins. "Damn straight."

"Easy, cowboy," you warn, your eyes narrowing at him in playful warning.

You're not necessarily embarrassed by Jake's insinuation of your sex life, the two of you were well established in your relationship and you trusted your friends too much to be embarrassed by that kind of thing. It's just that being Admiral Kazanky's daughter meant that too many people assumed you had only made it this far because of your old man or that you were sleeping through the ranks, which was far from the truth. 

You deserved to be here. And Jake knows this, which is why his thumb is still massaging at the pressure point at the base of your skull, just behind your ear. Everything about him, from the reassuring smile he directs at you to his relaxed body language is him letting you know that it's all in good fun, and no one here thinks that you don’t belong here in the slightest. 

Bradley's shaking his head as he lounges against the pool table. "I don't know what I'm going to have to tell my therapist about first, the fact that Frost calls you 'cowboy' or the fact you probably get off on that shit.”

Jake grins, toothpick bobbing in his mouth as his impish smile widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bradshaw?”

The truth is, he does. Behind the cool and collected facade that he’s putting up, bantering back and forth with your friends while he sips his beer, he’s just the right amount of hot and bothered that he wouldn’t mind calling it a night just to go home and have his way with you. He hasn’t forgotten about the little red number you’re wearing.

Having lost the attention of the rest of the squad to the pool table during his and Rooster’s banter, Jake shifts his focus to you. Large hand coming to rest on your back, he dips down to murmur in your ear. “Think I’m about ready to turn in, kid. What do you say we get out of here?”

Your pretty face turns towards him, and you don’t miss the gleam in his green eyes. Smiling privately to yourself, you eyes reflect his knowingly. “Rooster will never let you live it down. You only just got here.” However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be coerced.

Jake hums, his lips pressing to your temple in a kiss that’s meant to hide the fact that he’s whispering— plotting— in your ear. “I’ll buy ‘em around on the way out. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” he reasons.

You smile, turning back to the game of pool as Jake leans over you before you give him. “Go on,” you finally encourage. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grinning and all too pleased with himself, Jake slips off behind you, but not before giving an affectionate pat to your ass. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him.

You wait a while before discreetly making your escape form the pool table, grabbing your things as you go. Jake’s waiting for you at the door, all too pleased to see you, as though he hadn’t just five minutes before. “Made it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they—”

“Well damn, goodbye to you guys too!” Rooster calls from across the bar. Obviously having noticed your departure, the Dagger Squad is all standing around the pool table, shaking their heads in varying levels of amused disapproval.

Payback crosses his arms. “You guys make me sick.”

Opening the door for you, Jake turns and tips his imaginary cowboy hat at them with an grin. “Sorry man. If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some riding to do.”

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #topgun maverick #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #top gun maverick hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x reader

[lieutenantfloyd]

The Little things with Husband! Maverick ♡

Husband! Maverick who's your biggest partner in crime

Husband! Maverick who drags you to karaoke night at The Hard Deck every single week

Husband! Maverick who never stops talking whenever he's around you

Husband! Maverick who pulls out the film camera Goose got him for the first time in decades just to take candid pictures of you

Husband! Maverick who fights with himself every day to become the man he thinks you deserve

Husband! Maverick who makes you breakfast in bed at least once a month

Husband! Maverick who is so loud while making you breakfast in bed that you have to pretend to be asleep when he comes in to deliver it to you (he never notices)

Husband! Maverick who's favorite moments are the ones you spend together in the hangar

Husband! Maverick who never wanted to get married, until he realized he couldn’t picture a life without you

Husband! Maverick who's proposal was a spur of the moment action that surprised you both

Husband! Maverick who takes you on spontaneous trips as often as he can

Husband! Maverick who tells you endless stories about the Goose, Carole, and Rooster

Husband! Maverick who will never stop flirting with you, and blushes when you flirt back

Husband! Maverick who starts to question the safety of his stunts

Husband! Maverick who leaves you shocked as to how a man who has experienced so much loss and loneliness still practically radiates love

Husband! Maverick who learns about love languages and takes them very seriously

Husband! Maverick who, with your help, is able to begin healing from his trauma and fully reconciles with Bradley

Husband! Maverick who, with you and the dagger squad, finally has a family to call his own

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #pete maverick mitchell #topgun maverick #top gun movie #maverick #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun headcanons #topgun #top gun 1986

[risriswrites]

Booze, Burgers, and Bartenders

summary: short love story involving rooster and penny's favorite bartender.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x fem reader

warnings: none really, just some mild language and minor angst (if you can even call it that)

author's note: wow!! thank you guys so much for all of the love on my second fic "just roommates". i don't have a lot to say about it because honestly i'm speechless! with that being said, this fic has been in the works for months now and i'm exhausted with it. i wanted to write this and get it out back in may but everything with college really held me back and then from there i've just been enjoying summer and have been putting it off. so i apologize for the wait, but i hope y'all enjoy it!! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

word count: 5.7k

“Penny! Where are the extra bottles of Budweiser?” you call out, body crouched just below the countertop of the bar in an effort to find a hidden Budweiser bottle behind all the Corona’s.

Somewhere in the bar, Penny shouts back to you, a muffled, “Just got a new shipment order in this morning! Check in the backroom, they’re probably still in their packaging!” reaches your ears.

Huffing, you force yourself back to a standing position, leaning your weight against the bar for a few seconds before pushing off and heading towards the backroom.

Flickering the light switch on once the door is fully open, you begin the tedious search for the famous beer the patrons preferred to order at Penny’s bar. Sighing to yourself, you grab a stool just in case the box was placed on one of the top shelves. Jaxson had a habit of doing that, he knew both yourself and Penny preferred the heavier boxes on the bottom shelves, but he somehow always managed to “forget” that important factor.

Crouching low you start with the bottom shelves before moving upwards. Luckily, Jaxson put the newest box of Budweiser’s one shelf above the middle. Lifting the box into your arms, you steady yourself before moving back out of the room and towards the bar.

Maneuvering around the tables and chairs scattered throughout the bar was easier said than done. It wasn’t until you were able to push the box onto the countertop that you could take a breath, leaning your body weight onto the bar again with a huff. Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you notice Penny coming into your field of vision, a sly grin on her face.

“Jaxson leave the box on the top shelf again?” she questions, quirking a curious brow in the process.

Pinning her with a joking glare you smile, “Not this time, but it’s still heavy.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing it for ten years, trust me hon, it doesn’t get much easier” she chuckles.

Throwing your head back with a groan, you grip the edges of the bar, leaning back on your heels, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it soon,” straightening back up on your two feet, you turn to face Penny again, fixing her with your stare and point in her direction, “but, if Jaxson continues to put new, heavy, boxes on the top shelf, I can’t guarantee he’ll be around forever.”

Penny lets out a snort and nods her head in understanding, “I’m right there with you, but until then,” she gets up from her seat at the bar and pats the box of beer twice, “let’s get these in the fridge.”

With a forced laugh and a mock salute, you let out a “You got it Pen,” and resume struggling against the bottles of booze.

~

Nights at the Hard Deck fluctuated. Weekdays were a little slow, apart from Friday nights, with Saturdays being the busiest. Not that you’re complaining since that’s when you receive the most tips. And having the local aviators around as eye candy wasn’t so bad, plus, they’re generous tippers.

Tonight though, there had been an abundance of new faces floating around the bar. Mainly naval aviators, not to your surprise, but the sheer amount that had been crowding the bar was just a tad overwhelming.

Even Jaxson was flustered, his eyes flitting back and forth from you to Penny in search of some assistance. Unfortunately for everyone, you each were too busy struggling with keeping up with your own sides of the bar, and just when you thought you had a second to breathe, another patron would waltz up to your side and ask for a drink.

Glancing over towards Penny, you notice her interacting with a brunette clad in a leather jacket, an easygoing smile accompanying the glint in his eyes as he spoke with her. Smirking to yourself, you keep this interaction in mind and turn back to the guy in front of you, grabbing a bucket, loading it with ice and the six coronas he ordered, popping the tab off one before handing it to him with a smile, “Here ya go.”

The blond shoots you a smile, and pats a hand on the bar, shouting a “thanks” back in your direction. Moving around your section, you plucked empty bottles off the bar top and disposed of them in the large trash bin under the bar. And just as you were about to grab a clean washrag to tend to simpler tasks than dealing with the local riff raffs of the bar, another patron squeezes their way up to your side of the bar.

Flicking your gaze over to the guy you shoot him a small smile, “I’ll be with you in a second.” Snatching the wash rag, you tuck it into your jean shorts and take two strides back to the bar, leaning your forearms on the top, you shoot the mystery man a small smile, and pose the million-dollar question, “What can I get ya?”

After mixing the jack and coke your customer requested, you accept the twenty and continue working around the bar, popping bottle-tops off Corona’s, Heineken’s, and the bar favorite, Budweiser. All while simultaneously wiping any spills off the countertop.

A few hours later, the Hard Deck is looking less and less crowded, with all the civilians having cleared out. Which allows for you to sidle over to Penny and pester her for the next two hours before closing, sipping on your Coca-Cola in the meantime.

“Haven’t seen you all night, how’d it go?” Penny questions, permanent smile on her face and a light in her eyes you haven’t seen in a while.

Quirking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows, “Clearly not as eventful as yours,” you smirk. Wiggling your eyebrows you throw out a second question, “Who’s got you all hot and bothered?”

Penny giggles at your playfulness, swatting at you with her dishrag, “No one special.”

“Now that, is a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” you point at her with the pinky finger that had been resting around the bright red can you’ve been holding.

Bringing the can back up to your lips, you smile, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that brunette with the brown leather jacket decorated in naval patches, would it?”

This earns you another swat from the dishrag.

Leaning away from her, your smirk grows wider, “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Penny playfully glares at you for the second time today, and peers around you, nodding her head in the direction of your side of the bar, “You’ve got another one.”

Giggling to yourself you turn your head in the direction Penny motioned to, the sight before you halting your giggling almost instantaneously.

Bradley Bradshaw.

Cussing under your breath, you take the last sip of your coke and turn to make your way towards him, receiving a swat from Penny’s dishrag in the process.

“Bradshaw.”

The man of the hour turns in his seat towards you, honey brown eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment before one side of his mouth quirks up into a half smile, “Hey.”

“What made the navy drag your ass back here for?” you ask, snorting at his attempt at remaining casual, folding your arms over each other, jutting your hip out in a stance that you hope comes across as vaguely threatening.

Bradley taps his thumb on the bar top and shoots you an award-winning smile, “I’m not really sure about that yet, sweets” he states, his voice coming out in a low rasp, while his eyes wander behind you towards the bottles of liquor.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you open your mouth to shoot him a smart-ass retort, but instead, choose to close it and offer up the same line you use on everyone else, “What can I get you to drink?”

Bradley refocuses his eyes back onto yours, lips forming into a frown at your lack of retaliation, “Bottle of Budweiser if you have any would be great.”

Moving on autopilot, you bend down and sort through the fridge for another Budweiser, gripping the bottle and popping the top off, before sliding it forward towards the tall hunk of muscle in front of you, “You opening up a tab?”

Bradley looks over towards the pool tables where his friends were gathered around, no doubt betting on who was going to have to pay for the next round of beers. Turning his attention back to you, he stands from his seat, pulling his wallet out from his back jean pocket and holds his card out to you, “If you don’t mind, that’d be great sweets” sending you a small smile in the process.

Plucking the card from his grasp, you send a sarcastic smile his way before turning to the computer to input his information.

Bradley lets his gaze linger on you for a moment, then sets off back to his friends.

Hangman is the first to comment on Bradley’s singular beer and the sour look on his face, earning him a rough shove from Phoenix.

Nat turns to face Bradley, offering a sympathetic look, “Didn’t go well I take it?” she mumbles.

Hangman snorts and gestures with his beer towards the bar where you’re currently standing with Penny, “Judging by the way she’s standing,” sucking a breath through his teeth, “I’d say it went swimmingly.”

Jake goes to sip his beer with a smirk on his lips, satisfied with his dig, until Natasha forcefully bumps his elbow, forcing his beer to miss his mouth and instead spill down his shirt. Glancing towards her, scowl present on his face, Nat flutters her eyelashes and pouts, “Oops.”

Bradley covers his laugh with a sip of his beer, looking towards the dart board as a distraction.

“Maybe you should go get cleaned up.” Phoenix smiles, her words sickeningly sweet and not up for debate.

Grumbling to himself, Jake gets up from his seat and makes his way towards the bathroom of the Hard Deck. Once he’s out of sight, Nat fixes her gaze on Bradley, “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”

A huff slips past Bradley’s lips and he slumps into the seat adjacent to Phoenix, “That’s the thing Nat, it’s not really going anywhere.”

Nursing her own beer, Nat plays with the perspiration sliding down the bottle, “It’s probably gonna take some time Bradley. You can’t just show up after not talking to her for a year,” sparing you a brief glance she watches the way you smile and pop a cap off the bottle for a customer you’d been serving for the better half of the night, “stuff like that actually bothers a girl yaknow” emphasizing her words with a pointed look.

Bradley taps his thumb against the tabletop, a low groan leaving his throat, “I know Nat, I just didn’t know how to tell her I was being deployed for six months and then dealing with the Uranium mission on top of that,” he pauses briefly to sip on his beer, “It’s not fair to her.”

Natasha nods briefly, understanding where he’s coming from, “I get that, but that’s not your decision to make.” Pointing at him with her bottle briefly, she maneuvers it to gesture towards you, “She’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions.”

Bradley nods his head in understanding, moving his gaze to survey the room briefly, a red blush painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sensing how flustered he was Nat slaps the table and shoots him a sympathetic smile, “I’m going to get us a few more beers from our favorite girl. When I get back, you’re going to be done with all that sulking and were going to kick Coyote and Hangman’s asses in eight ball.”

An, “In your dreams hot shot,” settling over both Natasha’s and Bradley’s ears, the pair rolling their eyes simultaneously at the overconfident voice of Jake Seresin.

~

“Ready to start cleaning up? It’s twenty minutes before we close.” Penny asks, the clinking of glass bottles ringing in your ears when she tosses them into the trash.

Peeking at her from over your shoulder you send an exhausted smile her way, “Definitely, tonight’s rush took a lot out of me.”

Biting her lower lip, Penny begins wiping down the counter, “That the only thing that took a lot out of you tonight? Or did a certain tall, mustached naval aviator have something to do with it?”

She doesn’t look over at you when you whip your head to glare at her, instead choosing to continue to innocently wipe at the sticky bar top.

“Don’t start.”

Moving away from her, you begin to collect the remaining empties and toss them in the trash.

Ignoring her for another ten minutes, you busy yourself by sweeping up around the front of the building, avoiding Bradley and his lingering group of friends.

Maneuvering back to the bar, you grab the remaining glasses and bring them to the dishwasher in the backroom. Once you’ve loaded it up, you put in the dishwasher detergent and start it on a regular cycle, heading back out to the bar to help Penny finish up.

Gripping the rag in your hand you begin wiping down any places Penny may have missed, hyper fixating on the task at hand to avoid looking over at the man who ghosted you a year ago.

Penny eases herself into the space you were occupying, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt at gaining your attention. Looking up to the ceiling you breathe out, turning your head to give her your full attention. An apologetic smile is what meets you and you instantly feel your resolve soften.

“I’m only going to say this once, and from now on I won’t mention it.” Nodding her head in Bradley’s direction she continued, “He’s a good guy Hon, but unfortunately, he’s still a guy. And guys make stupid mistakes. Trust me,” an eye roll from her ensuing shortly after.

“I’m not telling you that you need to forgive him, but maybe hear him out?” she coaxes.

Looking over towards him, you watch as his drunken form laughs with his friends, “I’ll think about it Pen.”

“Okay honey,” leaning away from you she squeezes your shoulder, “Oh and I’ve gotta go pick up Amelia, soo could you close up?” she pleads.

Throwing your head up, you laugh, “Oh I see, just trying to butter me up so you can sneak out to go be with that Naval officer.”

Penny bites her lip at the thought and begins heading for the door, “Not yet, but maybe eventually,” she vocalizes, shooting you a wink in the process. “Alright guys and gals, time to go!” she calls out to the last group lingering at the back of the bar.

The blond calls back to her, “You got it Pen!”

Giggling to yourself, you finish up a few more tasks as the remaining aviators file out. Going to the storage room to grab some beers to restock the fridges for the following day, it’s always easier on you guys the next day if you restock the night before.

Heading back out to the bar you notice the handsome aviator you’ve been avoiding all night, sitting right where he had been earlier that night.

“Heyyy” Bradley smiles, clearly drunk judging by the flush that’s blossomed over his cheeks, neck, and ears.

Chuckling to yourself, you let an amused smile crawl across your face, “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?”

Bradley hiccups and leans his head on the bar top, “I need to,” another hiccup interrupts him before he continues, “close out my tab” he rasps.

Nodding to yourself, you go over to the computer and close out his tab, printing his receipt and wrapping it around his card, you turn back to him and place the card on the bar top, sliding it towards his drunken form.

Bradley looks you over and smiles, “You’re really pretty.”

Choosing not to laugh at his words you fold your arms over each other and smile at him, “How are you getting home, Bradley?”

He hums, still looking you over in a daze, “I drove.”

Shifting a little in his seat, he uses one arm to reach into his back pocket, presenting you with the keys to his infamous blue bronco, jingling them in front of you with a goofy smile on his face.

Leaning towards him you grip your hand around his, easing the keys from his hand into yours. His eyes watching your hand as it encloses around his.

“I’ll be taking those big boy.”

Bradley groans, reaching his arms out towards you as you lean away from him, “Nooo, come back, I need those.” he whines out.

Shaking your head you muffle a chuckle at his drunkenness, “Bradshaw you can’t drive yourself home,” nibbling on your lower lip you spit the words out before you can take them back, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Bradley shoots his head up at your statement, “You’re taking me, where?” he questions.

Rounding the bar, you grab your purse in the process heading towards Bradley, “I am going to take you home.”

“How do you know where I live?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Cute.

Smirking at him, you quirk your own eyebrow, “I’m a witch.”

Bradley points at you lazily and whispers, “If you’re a witch, then tell me what I’m thinking about right now.” Promptly closing his eyes afterwards.

Looking up, you shake your head, smile growing wider on your face, “Burgers” you declare confidently, crossing your arms in the process. As if this motherfucker didn’t spend every waking minute with you for a year.

His eyes instantly open, mouth dropping in amazement, an emphasized “Yes” leaving his lips.

Offering your hand to him, you give him a small nod, “We can get some on the way home if you want?”

Bradley eyes you skeptically, “You promise?”

Smiling, you fold your fingers in, leaving your pinky out for him, “I promise.”

Slowly, Bradley wraps his own pinky around yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Alright, let’s get going. Joey’s Burgers sounds amazing right now.” Giving his hand a squeeze, you lead the way out of the bar, Bradley stumbling behind you, mumbling about some triple patty burger that they recently added to the menu.

Once the two of you managed to make it out the front door, you turned back to lock up, Bradley leaning his head on your shoulder as you did, making it a little more difficult to maneuver around in the process.

“Okay tiger, lets get you in the car.”

Leaning his weight on you some more, he scrunches up his face in confusion, “I’m not tiger, I’m rooster.”

Lugging his weight across the graveled parking lot and towards the bronco, you snicker at his words, “I know Bradley, it’s just a nickname.”  Earning a low groan from Bradley in response.

Once you’ve made it to the bronco, you focus on getting Bradley’s passenger door open, all while he leans more and more of his weight on you, at this rate the navy should just hire you if you can lug a full-grown man around a dark gravel parking lot.

After you’ve managed to get the door open, you coax Bradley into the passenger seat with the promise of burgers and a movie once you got him home. Rounding the car after ensuring he’s buckled himself in and jumping into the driver's seat.

Looking over towards him, you note the way he’s leaned his head against the window, arms folded over each other, in what you could only guess is an attempt at staying warm. Mindful of his potentially cold state, you don’t bother with turning the air conditioning on, and keep the volume of the radio low, trying to allow Bradley to relax as much as possible. He’s lucky he’s cute when he’s drunk.

Pulling out of the parking lot of the Hard Deck, you make your way down the street to Joey’s Burgers, ordering two large fries, two medium soda’s, one triple patty burger for Bradley, and one regular cheeseburger (with only ketchup) for yourself. Then continuing your mission of getting Bradley back home for the night before he’s sobered enough to realize he’d not only let you drive him home, but also from the driver’s seat of his beloved bronco.

~

Parking Bradley’s bronco wasn’t an issue, however, getting Bradley to move out of his passenger seat was.

Pleadingly, you rushed out a whispered, “Bradley, please get out of the car, you can’t stay in there all night.”

Receiving only an annoyed grumble in response, you tried again in the form of bribery, “I got you your favorite burger from Joey’s, if you get out of the car you can eat it while we watch a movie.”

This gets his attention and before you know it, you’re lugging Bradley out of his seat and across the parking lot. Somehow, he’s gotten heavier in the past twenty minutes of your drive. Mumbling to no one in particular, you let out a low, “He’s got a lot of groveling to do after this.” Huffing out a breath, you manage to pull him up the steps of the cozy one-story house, forcing Bradley to lean against the wall while you unlock the door.

Once you’ve managed to get the door open, you pull the brunette aviator over the threshold and towards the couch, kicking the door closed once you’ve made it inside.

The grey couch that had been centered towards the edge of the living room absorbs a drunk Bradley Bradshaw into its cushions, earning a content hum from him in response.

Throwing yourself down next to him, an audible sigh slips past your lips, leaning your head against the cushions in an attempt at seeking a moment of comfort before you inevitably must help Bradley into bed.

Lolling his head to the side Bradley fixes his gaze on you, eyes trailing across the expanse of your face, when the question, “What happened to my burger?” comes tumbling out of his mouth.

A sharp laugh is what Bradley gets in response, along with a, “I swear you become more and more like a dog as the night goes on.” Bradley is too drunk to understand what that’s supposed to mean, so instead, he widens his eyes and tilts his head a little, a silent question in regard to the aforementioned burger.

Yep, definitely dog like.

Swiping the bag of burgers and fries from the table, you pull Bradley’s special burger; along with a few napkins, out and hand them over to the man of the hour, who immediately starts to gobble it down like he hasn’t eaten in days.

While the man who resembles a golden retriever consumes his food next to you, you start the venture of looking for a movie you wouldn’t mind focusing your attention on until Bradley falls asleep, settling on “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”.

Settling into the couch again, you curl your legs up underneath you and proceed to snack on the fries you’d gotten.

Everything was calm, for a total of thirty seconds.

Your peace being ruined by an overgrown buffoon looming over you to steal one of your fries from its container.

“You know, I got you your own fries,” you snicker, side-eyeing the Topgun graduate who has resorted to looking like a kicked puppy from your scolding.

“Yours tastes better.”

Snorting at the remark, you shake your head in exasperation, “Finish your food and if you’re still hungry, you can have some of mine.”

Seemingly pleased with the compromise, Bradley gets comfortable on the couch once more, and continues with consuming the fried potato.

After some time has passed, Bradley satisfied with his food and no longer pestering you for yours, you make an attempt to clean up. Which is instantly foiled by a tipsy Bradley Bradshaw, “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you Bradley,” you wave him off, continuing your advances towards the kitchen.

Bradley forces himself off of the couch, stumbling after your composed form, “Sure seemed like it earlier.”

Tossing the leftover food in the trash, you grab a paper towel and the spray bottle of cleaner he always left under the sink, “And I don’t recall you being particularly sober within the past two hours.”

A small smirk graces Bradley’s lips while he leans his body weight against the doorframe of the kitchen arms folded over each other, “I had a triple patty burger from Joey’s an hour ago.”

Rolling your eyes at his retort, you push past him to get back to his living room, “You’re welcome then.”

Like a piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe, Bradley follows after you, “You don’t have to clean.”

Better than having to look at him while he’s sober and engage in this conversation.

Pulling your eyebrows together, you force yourself to concentrate on the coffee table littered with grease stains from the bag and a few misplaced French fries, completely ignoring Bradley’s piercing gaze.

Hearing him sigh, your gaze breaks from the table and flits to where he’s standing. Looks more like leaning to you since he’s clearly still feeling some of the effects of the alcohol. As your eyes roam over his figure, you take in his posture, his arms, and lastly his eyes, which are locked on yours and the way you’re examining him.

Looking up to the ceiling, you huff, bending to your full height. Abandoning the damp paper towel on the semi-clean coffee table before you address him.

“I don’t hate you.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lift, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-hearted smirk, mustache following suit, “So you’ve said.”

Your eyebrows crease while your eyes pinch, fixing him with a glaring look, “But I don’t appreciate being led on for months either,” your tone heavy in the way you spoke to him.

Bradley visibly winces at the jab, “I know, not my proudest moment.”

Crossing your arms over each other, you jut your hip out, “Why’d you do it then?”  

Bradley crosses the room slowly, moving closer to your defensive stance with a slowness that resembled someone afraid of spooking a baby deer, “I didn’t want you to get caught up in all my shit.”

“One mission for six months is bad enough,” he pauses, “Another mission with no guarantee of survival a month after the last isn’t something I wanted to put you through.”

Your frown that you’d adorned for majority of this conversation, deepens, “That’s not something you get to decide, Bradley.”

A forced chuckle slips past your lips, “I’m a big girl, I’ve been able to make my own decisions for myself, for years. I don’t need you and your hero complex thinking you can make those decisions for me.”

Your eyes roam his face scowl still prominent. Finally uncrossing your arms, you poke a finger into his chest, “You should be able to trust me enough to tell me those things, and allow me to decide if it’s too much,” you pause taking a step back, hand retreating back to your side, “or if I care about you enough to stick around.”

Bradley tenderly reaches for the hand you’d forced back to your side, threading his fingers through yours, “I know, trust me I do. I just thought I’d be protecting you,” he breathes out, using his hand to bring you closer to him.

Your hardened gaze softens at his words, he thought he could protect you from himself, from heartache.

Settling your other hand on his chest, you tilt your chin up, the height difference between the two of you showing in the close distance you’re in.

“Like I said before,” you whisper, “That kind of decision I can make on my own.”

Bradley’s eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you, processing your words and what to do next with them.

Silence falls over the two of you, the only noise emanating from the tv next to you.

Breaking his gaze, you look behind him to see the clock hanging from the wall that’s surrounded by framed pictures of his parents along with a few pictures of himself with some of his squadron, taking note of the time.

Glancing back to him, you mumble, “You should probably go to bed.”

Bradley huffs at your suggestion but makes no move to argue.

Instead, he grips your other hand in his and pulls you closer, tilting his head to the side, “Tuck me in?”

Laughing to yourself at his suggestion, you give him a small nod, taking the lead down the hall to his bedroom, “Sure, do you want some warm milk while were at it?” you tease.

Bradley hums from behind you, “Now that you mention it,” he trails off, biting his lower lip to contain his laughter.

“Keep dreaming aviator,” you chortle.

“Oh I intend to,” is the retort you get in return.

Turning into his bedroom you push him towards his closet and gesture for him to change, turning your back to him in an attempt to avoid being distracted by his charm and physique, reacquainting yourself with his bedroom instead.

Not much has changed apart from the bedding which had gone from a pale blue to a darker green.

A raspy, “I’m decent,” makes its way to your ears and you turn to look for the source. Intaking a sharp breath at the sight of Bradley Bradshaw in a plain white t-shirt, and boxers, eyes roaming the expanse of his body before deciding you’ve ogled him too much.

Moving your eyes away from his lower half, you make your way to the closet in search of your own shirt and boxer combo, cause if you’re staying there’s no way you’re staying in your “The Hard Deck” tank top and jean shorts.

Wordlessly, Bradley sidles up behind you and reaches for his old training tee from his first days at Topgun, handing you the shirt and a pair of gray boxers to match.

Mumbling a soft “Thanks”, you make sure he turns all the way around before stripping down to put the new garments on.

Once comfortable, you glance to the opposite side of the bed Bradley’s in, fiddling with your fingers as you fight yourself on whether or not you can trust yourself with him again.

Screw it.

Acting before fully thinking through your decision, you climb into bed beside him, hiding under the covers for some warmth, and maybe from Bradley.

It’s Bradley’s warm hands that bring you out of your thoughts, hooked around your waist and pulling you to him, “You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbles, one leg slotting between yours.

Reaching up with your right hand, you glide your fingers through his locks, earning a sigh of content from him, “I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you confess, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

The confession has Bradley propping himself up onto his elbow, his free hand finding your own, putting it square against his, measuring the sizes of your individual palms, slotting his fingers between your own once he’s satisfied.

“I can’t promise that being with me will never hurt,” he states, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Sighing, he continues, “I don’t know if something will happen to me when I’m in the air.”

You nod solemnly at his confession, running everything over in your head, the pros and cons of being with him, loving him. What that might do to you.

Bradley tilts his head toward yours, catching your eyes once more, “But,” he pauses, “I can promise that I’ll never voluntarily hurt you again, and I will do everything in my power to come home to you.” He finishes, voice shaky and his eyes displaying a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

Scanning his honey-colored irises, you search for any doubt he may have hidden, finding none, a soft smile graces your lips.

Leaning forward, you nudge your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed at the contact, “Okay” you whisper.

Opening your eyes to scan his face, trailing along the faint freckles that litter his cheeks, your smile widens, “but this is your last shot Bradshaw, don’t ruin it,” you tease.

Bradley grins back at you before closing the gap between the two of you, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss that had been a long time coming; by at least a year.

His tongue traces the bottom of your lip and without much coaxing, you open your mouth enough for him to slip his tongue in, maneuvering his body over yours for easier access. Bradley slides his hands down your frame to trace circles into your hip, while the other braces himself next to you.

Breaking the kiss, Bradley maneuvers his lips down towards your exposed neck, trailing open mouthed kisses lower each time before coming back to your lips, catching them with his over and over until the two of you have settled into a relaxed state, lazy open-mouthed kisses replacing the urgent ones you were enacting before.

Gently reaching your hand up, you slot your fingers into Bradley’s tousled locks, tugging ever so slightly, earning a low groan from him in response.

Smiling to yourself, you slot your lips against his one last time before leaning back, appraising him with a gentle smile adorning your lips, “I thought we agreed on sleep?”

Chuckling, Bradley moves a stray hair out of your face, “Sweets, will you please put me out of my misery and go on a date with me?”

Clicking your tongue, you drag him down closer to you, snuggling into his chest as you make yourself comfortable.

 “Mmm, dating the bartender, huh? Hope it’s for more than free drinks,” you quiz, trailing a hand down to his abs, tracing each one with your fingers.

A tender kiss is placed to the crown of your head, while one large hand sneaks under the back of your shirt, tracing small circles across your skin, “Definitely.”

Humming, you close your eyes, content with the warmth emanating from Bradley and his tender touches, “That’s nice.”

Bradley chuckles at your drowsy state, “So is that a yes?”

He receives a chaste kiss that’s pressed to his shirt, right where his heart is as you mumble out, “It’s a yes Bradshaw.”  

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster x reader #topgun maverick #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw imagines

[simpforrooster]

you don't see it.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader

summary: Jake is sick of you talking about Rooster and takes matters into his own hands.

a/n: i'm sorry y'all. this is straight trash, but i can't go on until its up and posted LOL. i hope y'all are having a great weekend!

t/w: alcohol, some cursing, friend!jake, jealous!rooster

You didn’t like Rooster. Well, let’s back up.

You liked him, you just didn’t like Rooster. You didn’t like those silly Hawaiian shirts. You didn’t like those Ray Bans he wore and would look at you over the frames of them. You didn’t like that sandy hair and tan skin. You definitely didn’t like that 70’s ‘stache. Nor did you wonder what it felt like against your face to kiss him. 

Nope. None of it. Sometimes, it felt like you were the only girl in the word immune to the man called Rooster. 

Of course you never found yourself daydreaming about the man. Or wishing you were wrapped up in those strong arms. You found it easy to ignore watching him flirt with other women. You didn’t need to be jealous. 

No matter how much you wanted those words to be true, they weren’t. 

You are completely in love with the guy, and he only sees you as a friend. He’s even mentioned a time or two what a great person you were to have around. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend,” he’d told you. That comment resulted in throwing back several shots of tequila, and Jake having to bring you home. 

****

“He only sees me as a friend,” you whine to Jake later, hanging all over him, the alcohol making it hard to stand on your own. You hook an arm around Jake’s neck, holding on with all your might. 

“Why doesn’t he like me like that, Jakey?” you asked. You are the only one allowed to call him this. The first time it slipped out, Coyote immediately tried to make it a thing. Jake almost clobbered him over the pool table.

Jake hits you with a deep chuckle. “It’s his loss, babe.” His arm encircles your waist, keeping you upright. 

“Why don’t you just date me, Jakey?” you ask the blonde fighter pilot, your sober thoughts coming out of your drunk mouth. 

Jake chuckles again and the sound does something to you. Despite the man’s animosity and egotistical attitude toward the rest of the crew, he always seemed to have a soft spot for you. 

“You know I’m no good for you, babydoll,” his southern twang stirs emotions deep within you. 

“I’m sure I could handle you,” you quip. The flirting between the two of you is nothing new. It’s pretty much standard practice. Especially after a few drinks. 

But Jake knows Rooster is the one you want to be with. 

Jake grins. “Hmmm, but I don’t think I could handle you.” Jake pulls you closer, moving his mouth close to your ear. His hot breath causes a pink flush to fall across your cheeks. “Don’t look now, but the object of your affections seems to be mighty jealous.” 

You know when someone says, “don’t look now” you immediately look? Naturally, this is your first course of action. Rooster watches the two of you, a sneer on his face. A look you’ve never seen on him before. 

“He does seem jealous, huh?” You turn back to Jake, your eyes wide. 

“Wanna make it worse?” he asks, mischief in those green eyes. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

Jake expertly positions you with your back perfectly to Rooster. “Don’t freak out,” Jake warns. He places a soft hand across your mouth and leans in, placing a kiss against his own hand. 

You know exactly how this looks, and decide to play it up, locking your arms back around his neck. This whole façade has your face burning bright red, only to add to what you want Rooster to think.

“Go get me another drink, darlin’,” Jake winks. Going to get Jake a drink puts you right next to Rooster, and he seems itching to say something to you. 

“So you and Hangman?” his deep voice calls to you. His Hawaiian shirt is hanging off his shoulders, a white tank underneath tight across his chest. 

“We’re just friends,” you say lamely. 

Rooster lets out a whistle. “Yeah, that didn’t look like ‘two friends’.” 

“What’s it to ya, anyway?” you push. The tension between the two of you sucks the alcohol from your system, clearing your head. 

Or maybe it was the fact that Jake cut you off twenty minutes ago. 

“Just be careful is all,” he tells you, bringing his beer to his lips.

“You really don’t see it do you?” you mumble, your annoyance taking over. 

“See what?” 

“Rooster, I practically throw myself at you, and you just remind me of what a great friend I am.” Now that the confession has left your mouth, there is no taking it back now. You hold your breath waiting for his reply.

Rooster looks at you like you just asked him a difficult riddle and he has 2.3 seconds to answer until he’s done for.

“Forget it,” you resign, turning to join Jake at the pool table. Chills run down your body when a strong arm stops you from taking another step. Rooster’s calloused hand grips your wrist like a lifeline. 

Rooster spins you back toward him and crashes his lips against yours. It takes you a moment to fully register what is happening. Getting over the fact that the man of your dreams is kissing you, you grip the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. 

“Get a room!” Jake calls from the back, satisfied Rooster finally came to his senses. 

“I’m sorry I was an idiot,” Rooster smirks. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Rooster slides cash across the bar to Penny, who is rolling her eyes at the two of you. He takes your hand in his, and pulls you from the bar and toward his old Bronco. 

He pins you against the cool metal of the car, trapping you between his body. “I gotta wipe that memory of Hangman’s kiss from your mind.”

You let out a crazed giggle, and pull the man back down to your mouth. 

“I didn’t kiss him, Roos. He was trying to make you jealous so you’d make a move. He’s sick of me gushing over you.” 

Rooster answers you with a kiss that would certainly be enough to make you forget a Jake Seresin kiss.

masterlist

#rooster x reader #rooster #rooster x oc #rooster fluff #rooster top gun #top gun imagine #topgun #top gun maverick #topgun fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic

[multifan2022]

Used to be yours

Masterlist

You were never part of Bradley's plan. The plan consisted of two things, getting into the Navy, and being a pilot. But the day he met you was the day his list grew, grew to include you, the constantly forgotten best friend of his most hated classmate. Jake Seresin. He would never forget his Tapout ceremony, because that's where his real story starts. 

You had known Jake your whole life so it wasn't really a surprise when he asked you to come to the ceremony. His father had also hated you for at least your entire friendship with his son. You, in his eyes, were nowhere near good enough to be associating with the Seresin Heir. It didn't matter that you had money of your own, sitting away in a trust fund. In Jacob Sr's eyes you were just the kid from town who's daddy had died in the line of duty. 

It didn't matter that said daddy had died while on call as a firefighter.. 

So when you were told to buy your own ticket, get your own hotel room and rental car you really weren't surprised. What did surprise you though was Jake barely even saying hi to you before he was introducing some girl to the rest of his family. The snarky smile she gave you and the little finger wave of condescension turned your stomach. The little life that Jake had unknowingly left there the night before not yet protesting, but the action caused your heart to squeeze in pain. Without having to speak, since no one was listening anyways, you walked away and to the bathroom. 

Your heart broke slightly when you came back and the entire Seresin family was nowhere to be seen. They had left, off to some fancy dinner without you. Jake had left.. without you.. suddenly the receipts for this trip flashed in your mind. The money for the ticket, room, the car you rented. The pretty black dress and shoes you bought to wear. All money wasted.. 

At least it was wasted until you turned around and noticed a group of high ranking Military men standing looking sadly at something. Side stepping a little you looked past them to see another man, still standing at attention, clearly waiting for no one but waiting all the same. You didn't know what took you over but suddenly you couldn't look away. Your feet moved towards him without thinking as you took him in. 

He was beautiful. Beautiful in a broken kind of way, the same way you always saw in yourself when you looked in the mirror. Scars on his neck and face came into view the closer you got. And when his brown eyes locked onto yours it was like the entire world faded. Like you could see yourself introducing this man to your friends, to your grandma. Taking him to your dad's grave without him laughing or being awkward like Jake did the one time you took him there. 

Bradley was shocked to see someone walking towards him. He wanted to turn and see who you were really looking for but he knew he was the only one left out on the field. He had seen Natasha pause wanting to turn around and tap him out. He could see her now from the corner of the field watching as this beautiful girl walked towards him. You stopped just in front of him and whispered a small hi. Clearly you were embarrassed, he was too. But when you asked in a voice much stronger if it was okay for you to tap him out he almost sagged in relief. When your hand came up to tap him on the shoulder tears filled his eyes. 

Without asking his arms wrapped around you, yours easily coming around to hold him just as tightly. For some reason seeing him left out on the field waiting for someone who couldn't show up made you understand him on a level that so many other people couldn't. You ask him to go to dinner with you and the two of you spent the entire night talking about your parents and his. Expressing how grateful you both were to have someone in your life for you, it was your grandma for him, his Uncle Maverick. Maverick was due back the next day meaning that when Bradley practically begged you to meet him you couldn't turn it down. 

The next morning when Bradley opened the door to the home he and Maverick were temporarily sharing, the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He had never been more sure than in that moment that his parents were truly looking out for him as his eyes took in the Hawaiian style dress sundress you were wearing. You mistook his awed look though, quickly explaining how your parents got married in Hawaii and how after your mother passed away your father took to wearing Hawaiian shirts to try and honor her memory. And how even after he passed away you tried to continue that tradition. 

Bradley stopped you with a soft smile even though inside he wanted to strangle whoever it was that made you feel so self-conscious about it. Gently he grabbed your hand and guided you up to his makeshift room pulling out a Hawaiian shirt that belonged to his dad and telling you a very similar story. It was the start of what would become a fairytale-like story. 

Three months later you were storming from Seresin family ranch and sprinting for your car. Positive pregnancy test fisted in your grip as Jacob's words replayed over and over in your mind. "No son of mine will be drug down by a bastard child." "You're just a sad little girl who's looking for a family" "He will never love you". After Jacob SR demanded he pay for an abortion you stormed out. His mother caught up to you on the porch, promising your child a trust fund and enough money to care for a baby for 18 years if you just swore to never tell Jake. 

You were suddenly thankful that your plane ticket was for the same day. Bradley was coming home the next day and Mav had asked you to pick him up from the docks. You were beyond excited to see him. Your love for Jake had faded every single day as you talked to Bradley. You were terrified to tell him though that there was a baby growing in you. One that was put there by someone who went out of his way to make Bradley's life harder. Someone who used the fact that Bradley's parents had passed away as a reason why he wasn't good enough to be a pilot. 

The next day your phone rang as this giant ship got closer and closer to the dock. Bradley had been staring at his phone for 10 minutes waiting to get enough service to call. He just wanted to know when the soonest he would be able to see you. He could hear the deep sadness and worry in your voice when you said you were waiting on the dock for him. He thought nothing could dampen the pure excitement he felt knowing that someone was waiting for him, especially someone he loved as much as he loves you. But he was proved wrong when he saw how puffy and red your eyes were. How your bottom lip quivered the closer he got. The only thought then was what he would do to make you feel better. 

And that's what he did for the last 10 years every decision Bradley Bradshaw has ever made has been made with the utmost care. When he adamantly wanted nothing more than to continue dating you. When he said he wanted to be there for the birth of your daughter. Another year later when he got out on one knee and asked you to become his wife. When two years later he begged you to let him adopt and make her officially a Bradshaw.  And potentially the biggest decision he's ever made to date, was made last week when Cyclone pulled all of the aviators and officially made them the dagger Squad. Everyone besides Maverick, Cyclone and Phoenix were shocked to hear the mustache man say that he needed to call and talk to his wife. The guys all sat around talking about how none of them had even known Bradshaw was married.  

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes when Phoenix told him in a very hard voice that it wasn't any of his business. Jake never understood because no matter how hard he tried to reconcile and create a friendship with Rooster the man just constantly blew him off. It didn't matter how many times he apologized for bringing up his dad. Or for screaming nepotism when he found out that Bradley had grown up with Ice and Mav. Bradley held strong that he couldn't forgive some of the things the man had said. But Jake didn't know Bradley wouldn't forgive him for the words that he spoke to you. 

Bradley remembers the devastation on your face when you called Jake to tell him you were pregnant. It had taken Maverick and himself two months to talk you into it. And it was something Bradley hated remembering, hates that he had a hand in. Because he will never forget the look on your face when Jake told you he couldn't be friends with you anymore. That being friends with a young, single mother was bad for not only his family's reputation but his own. That he didn't want his higher up thinking he hung out with people who made bad choices. He hung up before you ever got the chance to tell him who the baby belonged to. 

Two months later an envelope arrived in the mail, inside were papers that broke your heart even more. Paperwork signed by Jake stating that he wanted nothing to do with any potential child. Bank account information as well as trust fund information for your daughter from his parents with a letter from his mother apologizing that they could have nothing to do with you or her. 

You never spoke to or of Hangman again, until your husband called and told you he had a possible permanent assignment. Told you the details and who would be there. You wanted to say no. Wanted to tell Bradley to come back to his previous team, back to the small home you had made for yourselves. But you could hear the underlying excitement in his voice. Could see the hope shining in his eyes even over Face-time. You knew being close to Mav and Ice would bring him joy. Being at TOPGUN made him feel closer to his father. Would give him an opportunity to become an instructor. You knew that you couldn't allow your past to destroy something beautiful in your future. Even if you knew that Rooster wouldn't complain a single time if you said you couldn't do it. But for him… you could do anything. 

Even at that something was seeing Hangman. And yes that was what you were going to call him because the person you remembered as Jake was the first person you had ever fallen in love with, a boy from your childhood who would do anything and everything to make you smile. Hangman was the guy who left you at his Tapout ceremony. The guy who left when he found out you were pregnant. The guy who had hung you out to dry and never looked back. While you were ridiculously grateful that he had saved your husband and surrogate father in law, you couldn't forgive him for everything else. 

That's why now Bradley was standing on the tarmac nervous as hell. Because he hadn't seen you or his daughter in months and of course Hangman had to be here with the group. Claiming he wanted to see everyone's happy reunions. Bradley had sent you a text stating that the blond was here, he just hoped you would see it before you got off the plane. As he watched the tires bounce on the ground he got a text. 

BeautifulGirl: Hen wants Mav to catch her off the stairs like always. Catch me BradBrad? 

BradBrad: Always Beautiful. Be the last off for me. ❤️

He leaned over and showed the text messages to Maverick who chuckled and shook his head even though deep down he absolutely loved having a tradition with his granddaughter. So together they stood and waited watching as Phoenix's girlfriend came rushing down the stairs screaming for her. As Bob's little sister brought over his dog, and as Payback reunited with his two daughters and wife before moving forward. 

Bradley turned back looking at the group, happy to find that Coyote and Hangman were being introduced to Payback's wife so they were too busy to watch. As soon as they reached the bottom of the plane stairs a beautiful little blonde girl with sea-foam green eyes threw herself off the second to last step and into the arms of her Grandpa, both of them laughing. Pete gently stepped out of the way so that you could throw your arms and legs around your husband pressing your lips together all in pretty much one movement.  He wrapped one arm under your butt, holding you too him while the other wrapped around your neck. It was a feeling neither of you would ever get used to or tired of. 

Being together, touching each other in any way was addictive. The two if you were always touching. Whether it was holding hands or Bradley's hand resting on your back or you sitting on his lap, you were always touching when you were together. Next to you you guys could hear Mav and Henley giggling. Bradley smiled whispering to you "I'm chop liver to her when Poppas here" you nodded brushing your fingers down his cheek. Mavs voice broke the little bubble around the two of you. "How about we go get some lunch and ice cream then my little Henny can stay the night." 

Hangman watched from the other side of the tarmac as Rooster and Maverick each carried someone away from the plane and towards Bradley's Bronco. There was something in the back of his mind and in his heart screaming to get a closer look. To know who this little girl was in Mavericks arms. To just see the face of the woman that was so tightly held against Bradley. But as he went to take a step forward Phoenix laid a hand on his chest and gave him a hard look while shaking her head. When he looked back up the little family was already loading into the Bronco. 

~

~

~

PART 2

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #topgun maverick #top gun maverick

[thedroneranger]

Buzzing Romance

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Synopsis: You and Bob have always vibed, and now it's time for this budding romance to blossom.

Note: Hi, friends! I know I've been MIA around these parts. And I hate it, but priorities. Anywho, I wanted to stop by, drop this little gift and say happy Valentine's Day! And say thank you to those who continue to message, chat, tag and send asks 🖤 This fic is a companion to Vibe Check and Sending Vibes. Reading one or both will provide additional context but isn't mandatory. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, fluffy but sex toys.

Word count: 1.1k

Bob wanted tonight to be perfect. Along with dinner at a steakhouse you’d been jonesing to try, he had a beautiful bouquet of roses to give you. 

Ever the perfectionist, Bob had called his florist friend, Riley. Since Bob always made sure Riley was on the shortlist for any local Navy events, he had an open line of favors ready for redemption.  

A few days later, Bob spent over an hour in Riley’s shop, before she opened at seven in the morning, handpicking the biggest, reddest roses.

Later after work at home, Bob spent another 30 minutes adding the final touch. A 25th rose that would never die—as long as you kept it charged. He wanted to confirm that not even a petal was out of place, and the rose-shaped vibrator was well hidden so you didn’t notice at first glance. 

Meanwhile, you were at your place—a rare occasion on its own. However, you were also giddy to get glammed up and go out on a real date with Bob. The thought made you laugh. 

It was clear you and Bob were in this for the long haul, but nothing about your relationship was traditional. You’d been seeing each other exclusively—a mutual decision—for nearly a year but had yet to formally define the relationship. 

Hell, you were still discovering new things about one another. Barely a month ago, Bob found out about your culinary skills when you cooked him his favorite meal as a welcome home surprise. 

The same night he also saw you in something other than an oversized Naval Academy t-shirt for the first time. You thought Bob’s eyes might bulge out of his head when you donned a sheer nude bra and panty set embroidered with the most delicate flowers.

You were hoping Bob would have a similar reaction tonight when he saw you dressed up for something other than a work-related gala. Your gala gowns were always striking but also conservative since you were among colleagues and leadership. Secretly, you hoped Bob fantasized about what was under your garb during galas as much as you fantasized about what was under his dress uniform. 

Your phone shook you from your fantasies. Bob messaged to check that a 6:45 pickup left you plenty of time to get ready. After responding, you put your phone back on the bathroom counter to inspect your face one more time before going to your room to put on your outfit. 

Bob was having nearly the exact same thoughts about your relationship, firsts and fantasies as he stood in front of the mirror, deciding which switch shirt to pair with his slim-cut gray suit. It felt cliche, given the holiday, but he decided to go with a soft pink shirt. One last check of his carefully styled hair, and then Bob was sliding into his two-door 90s Silverado. 

Fifteen minutes later, Bob rolled to a stop in front of your rental. Flowers in hand, he strode to the front door. He poked the doorbell and waited. 

You didn’t even bother to look before you flung the door open. “Hi,” you sweetly greeted him. He nearly dropped the bouquet. Bob couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your body. 

The sheer bodice and the low sweetheart neckline of your top had him reminiscing about his first night home from his last deployment. The silk high-waisted midi skirt and strappy heels you paired it with were the perfect compliment.

Remembering he was standing on your doorstep, Bob’s wits came about him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled. There was no way Bob’s cheeks weren’t as red as the flowers in his hand. 

“These are for you!” He gently held the bouquet out. 

Your face lit up as you used both hands to take it. “These are gorgeous! Do I have time to put them in water?”

“Of course.” Bob smiled. “I’ll get the door.” You thanked him and turned to go inside. He closed the front door and trailed you into your kitchen. 

“Here.” You gave him the bouquet back as you reached into the top of a cabinet to get a vase. While your back was turned, he adjusted the vibrator to be a smidge more obvious. “Come.” You waved a hand from him to join you at the sink. 

While the vase filled with water, you grabbed some scissors, and then turned off the faucet. Then you pulled a rose from the bunch to snip the bottom. “These are gorgeous, Bob.”

His smile widened. “I hand picked them.” You stopped to look at him in disbelief. He shrugged. You smirked as you grabbed another rose and trimmed the end before placing it in the vase. Bob watched as you continued to pick roses and diagonally trim the ends. 

Then, you saw it. You froze and looked at Bob. He was smirking. Your expression morphed to mirror his as you unearthed the rose-shaped vibrator. Your eyes flitted between him and the toy. 

“It’s kinda our thing, isn’t it?” He said with a wink. Bob placed what was left of the uncut bouquet on the counter. You also sat the vibrator there, and then wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on your hips as he looked at you. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Bobby.” Your gazes were locked. Your fingers brushed the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

“I have to admit my intentions aren’t purely altruistic.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow arched as he began to slightly sway you as if music were playing.

“I want to take my girlfriend to dinner.” Bob stopped moving and let his hands wander to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You bit your lip to cull the smile involuntarily pulling the corners of your mouth. “I would love for my boyfriend to take me to dinner.” You could feel the excitement in Bob’s embrace. “And afterward, I hope he’s willing to test out the gift he bought me.”

Bob’s face lit up with both a smile and rosy cheeks. He gladly accepted your lips against his and let his hand drop to cup your backside. You caught him off guard by nipping his lip when he gave you a squeeze. “Let’s skip dinner. I want to go straight to dessert,” he stated. You giggled as you uncoiled your arms from his neck and let a hand come to rest on his chest.

With a playful eye roll, you turned to the counter and finished trimming the roses. Patiently, Bob watched you situate the blooms. When you were done, you took the vase to the living room and sat it in the middle of the coffee table. While you admired your bouquet, Bob went to the bedroom to leave a single rose on the nightstand—ready to keep your romance buzzing.

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[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance]

Summary: Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Overbearing mothers.

Word Count: 4:1k

Author Note: Mothers…Especially boy mothers can just be the worst when they’re in LOVE with their sons.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 1st 

Bradley Bradshaw never thought he would be the person Jake Seresin called when he was in a situation and needed help, but here he was. Sitting in his Bronco outside the house of a woman he didn't know in the early hours of the morning watching Jake stumble down the small overgrown cobblestone path. The Halloween costume Rooster had seen Jake in early that night was long forgotten as the fighter pilot wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs with his wallet and keys in the palms of his hands. 

Immediately as soon as Jake sat in the passenger's seat of Bradleys pride and joy, he could smell the liquor trying to expel itself from Jake pores. 

“You smell like a distillery and we have a HOP at 8am.” There was a very evident disdain for Jake's current state in Roosters' tone, Jake wasn’t drunk enough to miss that. “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night to pick you up anyway? What did you do this time to warrant getting kicked out?” Jake didn't respond right away as he kept his eyes staring blankly out the window, the two had only just recently been given new orders to remain in North Island permanently. But when he did speak up, Bradley's heart ached. 

“I accidentally said my wifes name while uh–yeah.” Jake didn't think he needed to explicitly tell his wingman that, during one of the first and what Jake would consider the last one night stand he’d engaged in during your separation, he’d called out your name. “Vanessa didn't really like that.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” Bradley agreed as he drove down the street. “That's rough dude.” Bradley knew of yours and Jake's separation, Jake had told him one night at the Hard Deck after he’d asked how the family was. The two hadn’t always been on good terms but Rooster liked to think you and him were close enough to send Christmas cards to. When Jake had told him you’d left? Bradley didn’t reach out—he assumed it was for the best all things considered. 

“Yeah—but you know what’s rougher?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the headrest. 

“What’s that?” 

“Knowing your wife won’t ever believe you’ll change.” Bradley knew without even looking at Jake that between the mix of alcohol and his desire to win you back that the naval aviator sitting with slumped shoulders beside him was holding back tears. “And proving her right by sleeping with some badge bunny who looked an awful lot like her.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Your home had never been so quiet with all three of your children gone. You stood in the foyer of the entryway just looking around at the mess that had been left behind. Forgotten toys yet to be put away, discarded shoes, dirty plates and cups. Pine needles that fallen from the faux Christmas tree that was essentially hanging on by its last thread. The reminisce of three young children that were allowed to be children inside the safety of their own home. 

As you wiped away the tears that you had let fall freely down from your puffy eyes, you made an effort to tidy up the house you’d be leaving in only a few short hours to leave for the hospital stay you had planned. Tiny shoes with no feet to fill, toys left unattended over the holidays simply to be replaced by newer shiner ones. 

Between now and new years while Jake had the kids in Texas your treatment plan would increase tenfold. You were scheduled for aggressive rounds of IV chemotherapy that you knew you’d have to stay in hospital for to go through, your body was barely tolerating the oral medication as it was. You were scheduled for a double mastectomy in your time at the hospital which would hopefully stop any cancerous cells from spreading to more lymph nodes and areas of your body that remained untouched. Did you have high hopes? Not particularly. But you were ready and willing to do just about anything the oncologist assigned to your particular case had recommended. 

It was going to be a rough stint, but hopefully by the time Jake returned with your children, you’d still be able to mask your diagnosis. How you were going to explain the symptoms like hair loss and suddenly having no breast tissue to Jake was something you had yet to come up with. 

But ‘New year, New me’ was looking like the best possible explanation. Maybe the new look would get him off your case a little when it came to working on your marital issues. 

As you put things back in their rightful places and tidy up, you felt your phone ringing in your back pocket. The call ID immediately made you want to cry even more than you already had been. 

“Hi mum—“ You cooed softly as you stood alone in your empty home. “I uh, I just got home.” 

“How was Jake?” Your mother asked as she drove over to yours, you could hear the difference in her voice because of the shitty ass bluetooth system she barely knew how to work properly. “Did the kids kick up a fuss?” 

“Jake was–” You would never be able to find the right words to describe your husband, well, ex-husband. “Jake was Jake mum you know how we are right now.” Your mother knew about your diagnosis. She had been the one who urged you to see a doctor after you told her you had found a rather large lump on your left breast. “And no, actually the kids were super excited to go with their dad for the holidays, I think they still don't really understand that I'm not gonna be there at all, maybe they just think I won't be there for a day or two, but uh–yeah, they were good.” 

“And how are you feeling?” It was surprisingly a rather hard question to answer as you sat down on the lounge. For the longest time you had always put your family first, made sure all their needs were met before your own. From your kids to your husband they always came first, but now? Now you had to focus on your health and put yourself first if you had any chance of getting through the next few weeks. 

“I threw up this morning–” It was your way of saying you werent travelling well at all. “After I slept with Jake–” You knew your mum would be shocked at your admission, so you closed your eyes and braced for it. The scolding, the “never sleep with an ex speech” But it never came. All that came was a sigh you couldn't tell was laced in disappointment or approval. 

“You need that man in your life darling, he's a good man, the two of you just need to work on your differences.” Your mother had always had a soft spot for Jake Seresin, for a few weeks after your initial breakup he stayed in her spare room. Jake loved your mother like his own and you knew that if you ever gave her a moment on the soap box, your mum would scream it to whoever would listen just how much you and Jake were made for one another. 

Which in your opinion was a little shitty. Jake had his own mum. You needed yours. 

“I know he's a good man mum, that's why I married him to begin with.” You sighed heavily as you laid on the lounge to ward off the dizzy spell that was threatening to throw you off balance. “But I haven't been his priority in a hell of a long time, and I owe it to myself to not go back to being a married single mother.” 

“Okay okay, well–” You knew your mum was only trying to help but it felt like the two of you had this very same conversation every time you spoke, it was like deja vu. “He won't wait around forever darling.” That fact you also knew, according to Jake himself her name was Violet or Vivian or Vanessa. Something that started with a V. Either way you knew very well that Jake wouldn’t wait around for you to take him back on his hands and knees begging. 

But at the end of the day you weren’t sure if you even wanted him to wait for you. Of course you loved Jake, with your whole heart. But right now nothing made sense to you, you were dying after all. 

“Trust me,” You rolled your eyes thinking about how Vanessa or Vicky or Veronica looked. If she looked anything like you or maybe completely different. If she had blue eyes you'd surmise that he probilby date her. “I know he won't, but he's not the priority right now, my health is.” 

“I'll be there in about an hour or two depending on traffic.” For a split second you wished it might take a little longer. Although you loved your mum dearly and appreciated everything she ever did for you, her favouritism towards your husband made your blood boil. 

“Okay, I might have a bit of a nap while I'm waiting for you, I'm feeling pretty shattered.” No word of a lie was spoken, you were exhausted to say the very least. Finally being alone and not having to be in constant caregiver mode for three young children truly had your body calling it quits. You needed sleep and so much of it. 

“I'll see you soon alright?” You mum spoke through the bluetooth that crackled and broke with the failing reception, but you heard her just barely. 

“Alright, bye mum.” You paused hesitantly as you let your eyes close “I love you.” It had been a while since you told anyone you loved them besides your kids, and for a second you wished it was Jake on the other end of the line. You did love him, probably more now than you ever had. Everything was just so messy, it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. 

“Bye Darling.” Your mum replied. “I love you too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“My babies!!” Janeen Seresin was in Jake's opinion, one of those women who never should have had kids, let alone four of them. Jake was the youngest of four Seresin children and the only boy. His father, Rodney, was a hard task master who no matter what Jake accomplished in his career or personal life, never seemed to be proud of the man he had become. 

“Hi Ma.” There was a pretty simple explanation for that, Jake never took a beating without getting a few punches in himself. He wasn't the kind of guy who you could beat into submission even as a teen. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Jacob oh my boy it's so good to see you.” Janeen took her youngest child in her arms in the threshold of the Sersein estate. Lavish gardens surrounded the old exposed red brick home that had been in the Seresin family for generations. Jake knew when his parents died it wasn't going to him, but to his eldest sister Julies. “Come in come in! You guys must be so tired after your flight.” 

Jake, despite being a fighter pilot who had flown some of the most suicidal missions, was a nervous flyer when he wasn’t in total control. Commercial flying wasn't something he typically enjoyed. It made him anxious at the best of times and whenever he added his children to the mix he was sure that the way his heart pounded inside his chest during takeoff was early signs of an underlying genetic heart condition he probably inherited from his father. 

“The kids are definitely a little tired, I think Sam's ears haven't really pooped either.” Jake cooed as he and his kids entered the house Jake grew up in, the overly eccentric, far too big, the annoyingly in your face house he knew you always hated. It always seemed to exemplify the two worlds you and Jake grew up in as children. 

“Grandma!” Lucy interrupted. “Mum said that Santa will know exactly where we are if we put out cookies and milk for him and carrots for his reindeer like we do at home.” Janeen chuckled at her granddaughter as Jake placed Sam on the ground to walk off with his brother to explore the mansion style home that was far bigger than the one they were used to. 

“Your mother would still have you doing those silly little things wouldn't she?” Jake bit his tongue as he watched his mother soothe a hand over his daughter's head. “Of course we can put out cookies and milk, but if I get ants you better be ready to clean them up little miss.” Lucy simply smiled and nodded in response, the dig had gone right over her six year old head. 

“God Ma you'd think you never had kids of your own before.” Jake argued in an attempt to remind his mum that his kids were only young. The magic of Christmas was important to you and him. “I'm sure Santa won't leave cookie crumbs all over the house.”  

“Santa isn't who I’m worried about making a mess–” Janeen tried to say the loud things quiet while around Jake's children, but the intent in her words was still as loud and as obnoxious as ever. “How is your mother Lulu? I’m sorry she won’t be joining us for Christmas and new years.” 

“She’s been sick the past few weeks.” Jake frowned at his mothers smile, she left little to the imagination about her opinion of you. “But she’s better now.” Jake wasn't so sure of the statement his daughter made, the way you were only on your knees this morning throwing up into the toilet bowl made him frown in response. Jake had this gut feeling he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried not to think about it. Was something wrong with you? Like, more than just a long winded flu? Who even gets the flu for three weeks these days? 

“Oh I’m sure she is dear, right before her big trip away hey?” Ever since you and Jake separated, Janeen Seresin had been pushing for Jake to file for divorce and full custody. No one got to leave her perfect angel boy. In her eyes Jake could do no wrong, he was her angel, her precious baby boy that no woman could ever be good enough for. 

“Yeah! She’s going to the snow with a bunch of her friends Grandma.” Lucy replied, she didn’t understand her grandmother’s resentments just yet. That or it went right over the little girl's head, either way Jake was thankful for her innocence. 

“Oh I know your dads told me all about your mothers grand plans.” Janeen rolled her eyes pretty heavily at the idea you were off whoring yourself out on a ski trip out of the country while her son was tasked with looking after the three children you had with him. 

“Ma, drop it will you?” Jake urged. “She’s allowed to go away for the holidays, she’s pretty much had the kids all year.”

“And why is that?” Janeen retaliated as little Lucy walked off to find her brothers. Jake followed his mother into the dining room where festive decorations dressed the dining table. Perfectly set and prepared. A stark contrast to your old chipped four seater dining table that had soggy cheerios spilled on the top just this morning. Jake much preferred the cheerio-covered table to his mothers perfectly decorated one. 

Fuck, Jake thought to himself the more he looked around. His kids were about to mess this place up. He knew deep down that would bring you a little solace. You knew Janeen was sour on you. The idea of the kids making her life just a little more chaotic would normally make you chuckle.

“Because I live and work in North Island now, I don’t have the proper work schedule to take three kids on by myself.” That was the appropriate and only answer, but Jake knew his mother saw it differently. “I don't have to means to look after them myself–Y/n does, we both agreed on that when he split.” 

“She’s keeping those kids away from you sweetheart.” Jake couldn’t have rolled his eyes harder if he tried, he’d been home for all of what? five minutes and already his mum was disrespecting you. “You don’t see those kids nearly as much as you should and it’s her—“

“Don’t you think that’s more on me then it is on her?” Jake argued back. “Come on ma you know exactly why we separated, I wasn’t putting in what she was giving and it damn near killed her. The last thing she needs is a custody battle.” 

“What you ever saw in that woman I’ll never understand sweetheart.” Janeen cooed as she reached up to touch her son's cheek. “I always knew she was never good enough for my baby boy.” 

Jake wanted to argue, he really did, but it was Christmas and his entire family would soon be filling the Seresin estate. So Jake pressed his lips together and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his mothers head. He didn’t want to ruin yet another family holiday. He didn’t want to be dubbed the family disappointment because of his separation. Although he knew that's exactly what he was. 

He just wanted to be loved. And at this point Jake was gonna take that love whenever the hell he could get it from. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Y/n–” At first you didn't respond, but as your mother shook you as you slept on the lounge and called your name a few more times, you finally woke up. “Y/n, babe jesus have you been asleep since we got off the phone.?” It took you a moment to come back into your body as you wiped the dry drool that had leaked from your mouth onto your cheek. The discombobulation was clearly evident to your mother as she stepped back a little to give you some space. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mumbled as you sat up. “I'm just really–” The all too familiar feeling of bile rising came hard and came quickly. “Oh god mum, get me a bucket!” The look of panic written in the tired lines on your face was enough for your mum to realise what was going on. 

“Oh shit hang on.” Your mother hurried into the laundry nearby and searched high and low for something you could use, but you decided soon thereafter that it was quicker if you booked it into the kitchen and puke right into the kitchen sink. “Y/n! Oh god are you alright darling?” 

For a single mother of two children, yourself and your older brother Carson, your mother did alright for the hand she was dealt. On the younger side, your mother always seemed a little ‘Childish’ in her nature and mannerisms. But she was your mum and you wouldn’t change her for anything. 

“I'm fine–I just–” You couldn't keep anything down to save your life right now, so when your body wanted to expel any form of bile it was just stomach acid and remnants of whatever you had most recently eaten. Your mother did her best to comfort you as you coughed and splatted your gagged in the kitchen sink for dear life, she could tell your body was weaker than it ever had been just from the way you trembled under her touch. 

It broke her heart to see you like this, so sick and fragile. You did well to hide it though, for what it was worth she thought you looked relatively healthy still. But it was still early on in your journey. 

“I'm so scared mum.” You cried out through gags as you stayed bent over the sink coughing and crying. This wasn’t fair, you had a family to think of, kids to watch grow, a husband to hopefully fall in love with all over again. How could whatever god was up there do this to you? Why did this happen? Why you? What had you done so wrong to deserve this untimely fate?

“It's okay I've got you baby.” Your mother cooed as she rubbed circles into your back with her open palm. “Im here, I’ve got you now, let's get you ready to go up to the hospital hey, you wanna take a shower or?” 

“Let me just brush my teeth–” You sighed as you spat into the sink to clear your throat. “I should ring Jake, make sure they got in safe.” 

“I'm sure they’re just fine, he’d call if there was a problem, let's just focus on you for once.” You didn't want to feel like you were neglecting your children but you already felt like you were. They were your entire world, putting yourself first just wasn't in your nature. But as you thought about calling, thought about just sending a text, you looked at your phone to see a missed call from Jake about twenty minutes prior and a few text to follow. 

:Lover: “Kids and I are here safe, ma’s on her fuck the ex campain already and dads nowhere to be seen.” 

:Lover: “Hope you're enjoying your kid free afternoon, safe flight tonight, text me when you get into Calgary.” 

You couldn't help but to smile as you pocketed your phone, you'd call Jake later once you were settled into your hospital room. Right now you just needed to finish packing, brush your teeth and get over to the hospital for your admission time. 

“He loves you so much.” Your mother reminded you as she followed you up to your room to help you finish packing. 

“I know he does.” You really weren't in the mood to be discussing the state of your marriage right now. “He deserves better, someone not riddled with cancer cells.” 

“Is that why you won't even consider the idea of getting back together?” Your mother was nearly flawed when you silently nodded in return. “Y/n, don't you dare–” Again, you didn't want to talk about it. Between Jake's mother not being your number one stan and your mother playing devil's advocate what seemed to be twenty four seven, you were just over everyone having an opinion. 

“Mum! He didn't care about me enough when I was healthy and happy and his wife! What makes you think he’ll care now that I’m literally dying!” You shouted as you threw a pair of extra soaks into your luggage bag. “It's not fair, none of this is, but I left him well before I got sick and me getting sick doesn't change the reason I left.” 

Your mother didn’t respond, all she did was stare at you worryingly from across your bedroom room in silence. It looked as if she was trying to figure something out, read your face, understand what was going on. Then, after a few short moments of silence she spoke. 

“Your father and I went through something very similar before he died.” Your parents had been divorced for three years before your dad died in an awfully unexpected car accident. It shattered your mum, you knew it did. “We never did get to a point where we could resolve our differences.” She explained softly as she walked over to help you pack the last few items. You let her help you fold some T-shirts, Jake's old T-shirts, as she spoke. “This past year watching you and Jake go around in circles about how much you both still love each other and how desperately he's willing to change in order to keep you is so infuriating because you, my baby girl, have already decided you're not worth loving because you’re unfortunately going through something I can't even begin to comprehend.” 

“He couldn't love me before mum.” You simply sighed in defeat, god it was like you were going around and around on a ferris wheel. “What makes you think this changes anything?” 

“That man has never stopped loving you Y/n, he just got a little lost, we all do.” 

“If you had a chance would you take dad back?” It was a question you'd never asked before purely because you were afraid the answer would be no. now? As you tried to navigate the best thing to do for yourself, you desperately hoped the answer would be yes. Perhaps then you wouldn't feel so torn about hating to love Jake Seresin and his ability to captivate your entire being. 

“Without a shadow of a doubt my dear.” You’d never seen your mother have to hold back tears so hard before in your life. She was watching her only daughter go through a battle she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy as well as trying to help you through your separation. Although sometimes unwarranted and unsolicited, she was still your mother. 

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l @jessicab1991 91 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove ve @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #tw: breast cancer #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #topgun maverick #top gun fan fiction

[hotgirlmav]

Cyrano — Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader (18+)

Description: PART 2 OF PARTING GIFT! One night stands were never truly your thing. After passing your college midterms and celebrating at a bar, though, a one night stand ended up being just what you wanted. You picked the hottest naval aviator in the whole building and soon learned that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. He was set to deploy the next day, and you just wanted a cheap fix. What better way to ruin the convenience of a one night stand than him getting you pregnant?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual undertones, abundance of angst, depictions of anxiety, vomit, alcohol, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, brief arguing, mentions of death, bits of fluff, Maverick and Iceman mention because I am WEAK.

Word Count: 4,684.

A/N: IGNORE THE FACT THAT I SAID I WOULD POST THIS LAST NIGHT, I TOOK A NAP THAT TURNED INTO ME SLEEPING FOR FIVE HOURS 😭 I also just wanted to take a quick second to thank you all for the response I received on the first part. The amount of comments, reblogs, and messages I got was just absolutely insane. You all genuinely make writing worth it. You have my heart.

Requests are still open!

From the very moment his words went through the phone and to your ear, you were in a state of panic.

Though it had only been a few days since he told you that he was coming, the thought of Rooster’s arrival left a deep wound right in the center of your chest. Fear had been your closest companion ever since you found out about your pregnancy, and over the past number of days, the dreaded nuisance of the emotion refused to part from you. You woke up with it at your bedside, you traveled with it throughout the day, and despite your attempts being to no prevail, you tried to make your peace with it at night.

While currently standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, every emotion you had felt since you found out about your pregnancy was amplified.

Fear. Guilt. Sympathy for the baby inside of you. Slight excitement. You knew the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but you refused to not be at least a little excited over what would end up being your child. You refused to let your baby suffer for what you believed to be your recklessness.

Only thirty minutes prior to your silent session in front of your own reflection, Rooster had informed you that he was quite ready to come get you for dinner. You had no idea as to whether he was very far from your house, very close to it, or even if he remembered where it was. In all fairness, he had only been there once.

Almost like he waited for you to doubt him, the sound of a knock outside the door pierced your ears in a way that might as well have been an explosion. You visibly flinched at the faint sound of his knuckles briefly hitting your front door and cleared your throat, trying to suppress the nausea you felt induced both by your baby and by the father. How fitting.

“Just one second!” You found yourself calling out to him, frantically looking around your bedroom. You rushed out to the living room and began to toss everything around in a way that would make it seem just a bit neater, pure panic coursing through your veins.

It took about a minute more until you raced to the door and sharply inhaled through your mouth, practically holding your breath once you opened the door.

Your heart completely stopped at the sight of him. Tanned, sun-kissed skin practically illuminating under the light provided by the sunset, hair so sandy yet golden. His mustache was very neatly trimmed in a way that told you he must have spent quite a few minutes on it, and for that, you fought the urge to grin.

His hazel eyes scanned you as his full lips curled into a cheeky smile, just before he furrowed his eyebrows. His large hand gripped the doorframe as he met your eyes with his own for a moment, then broke the intense eye contact just a second later, leaning his head inside of the doorway. Due to the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, it was easy for him to do so.

His eyes scanned the now tidy living room, answering his internal question as to just what took you so long to open the door. The man was still essentially towering over you as he turned his head back to your face, gazing right down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“You didn’t tidy up this well when I railed you.” He remarked in a way that made you let out a small gasp, earning a genuine chuckle from him when you swatted at his chest. Strangely enough, all of your panic evaporated into thin air once he spoke.

“Since you don’t appreciate my efforts, I shouldn’t have cleaned up at all. I should have made even more of a mess.” You teased him in a light tone, your lips already curling into a grin. With how good he looked, you refused to even try to fight it.

Rooster inhaled sharply, turning his head away from you as his face twisted in playful disappointment.

“Damn, and to think that I made a reservation for us.” He jokingly scoffed, shaking his head. He couldn’t even fight the smile on his face.

Your grin was playfully mischievous. You raised one eyebrow before you sharply inhaled as if to mimic the way he did before, pursing your lips slightly.

“Take one of your other girls. This ship,” you began in a light, yet firm tone as you used your index finger to point back and forth between the pair of you. “Has sailed.”

Rooster let out a chuckle that made your knees want to buckle, further proving to you just how easy it must have been for him to get you into bed that night. What he said next, though, that took the cake.

“I don’t want the other girls. I came here for you.” He told you so matter-of-factly, his tone reeking of casualness as he lifted his hand and momentarily stroked your cheek with his thumb.

From the way you couldn’t even fight the immediate beam that appeared on your face, Rooster let out a soft chuckle that came from deep within his chest. Your eyes rolled as your grin and your shyly flattered expression betrayed you, staring up at him through your eyelashes. You opened your mouth to jokingly insult him, but as your eyes landed on his face, you immediately found yourself stuck. At that moment, everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

The man in front of you was the father of your child.

You had only been considering his part in your pregnancy in a vague, common way, but everything was coming together in the most overwhelming way possible. Even if Rooster decided to have no part in your pregnancy and in the child’s life, your baby was permanently going to be partially made up of the man before you.

Noticing the way you fell silent, Rooster took the opportunity to take your smaller hand in his own, standing up straight. His grin remained intact on his beautiful face, blissfully unaware as to why you just fell silent.

“I will go fully fucking insane if they offer our table to someone else.” He casually chuckled under his breath as he motioned for you to come out, earning a small giggle from you as you did just that. Seeing as you had already been holding your purse, all you needed to do was lock the door.

After doing so, he led you to the quite beautiful Bronco, causing your lips to curl into a grin. You knew it was an older model, but it was taken care of as if it was brand new.

The car ride there went by smoothly. A few jokes were exchanged, your hand was being held, and the heightened part of your libido that came with pregnancy was really kicking your ass. You couldn’t look at the man for more than two seconds without shifting in your seat, causing you to look out of the window almost the entire time.

By the time you two had arrived, your table was perfectly ready for the pair of you. You silently thanked your lucky stars, as you just didn’t need him being even slightly cranky when you informed him of the parting gift he left you just two months prior.

You two sat down with ease and ordered soon after, but that wasn’t without any minor complications.

“Oh, no wine for me, please.” You quickly added once you heard Rooster order a bottle, earning a confused expression from the man. Even with the way your heart was skipping a beat, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. His furrowed eyebrows and his broad shoulders under his open Hawaiian shirt just made you excited, and that was not an issue you wanted to deal with.

“Cramps.” You quickly excused yourself to aid his confusion, earning a look of understanding and a nod. Silently, you thanked yourself for the fact that Rooster was just another brainless man. You had to both love him and hate him for it.

Once you ordered your drink of choice and the server left, you tilted your head and sat back in your seat. You watched him sip the complimentary water that was given to you both, causing you to press your legs together under the table. You knew that if you didn’t break the silence, you’d just pounce on him.

“Are you going to tell me your name, or am I going to keep having to call you Rooster?” You questioned in a light tone, your lips curling into a soft smile as he chuckled at your question.

“It’s Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster is my callsign.” He informed you in a low tone, raising his eyebrows slightly as you began to rub his leg with your own under the table.

“Wait.” You immediately stopped, furrowing your eyebrows. “Bradley Bradshaw…? Brad Brad?”

Seeing that you were fighting the urge to laugh, the man couldn’t even resist a chuckle of his own and shot you a warning glare. “Don’t even start.”

You let a soft giggle escape your lips as you gazed over at him mindlessly, tilting your head. It was almost as if you completely forgot what you had to tell him.

“You don’t even know my name.” You told him with a playful huff, immediately reaching for the complimentary bread that was just begging to be eaten.

“Sure I do.” He responded, reaching for a piece of the bread at the exact same time.

“Yeah?” You challenged him with an amused expression. “What is it?”

Like clockwork, there was a cheeky little grin on his face as he popped a piece of the bread into his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as a way to fake concern for you. “Why, you don’t know your own name?”

You couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at his response, shaking your head as his chuckle matched your own. “Asshole.”

After a few moments, your food arrived, and your thoughts began to remind you of just what was going on.

You were pregnant. Waiting any longer to tell the man wouldn’t have made any sense. He was sitting right in front of you, and God only knew when the next time that would happen would be.

Your eyes glossed over the man as he shoveled bites of food into his mouth, your head tilting to the side as your eyes furrowed slightly. Not even noticing the fact that your eyes were glued to his face, he spoke in between bites.

“I haven’t eaten since I landed. Don’t mind me eating this like I'm scared of it walking away.” He casually remarked, his lips curling into a grin as he wiped them with his napkin once he heard the sound of your light giggle.

It was no wonder why you even brought him home to begin with. He was charming, he was witty, he was funny, he was insanely attractive; Rooster truly was a million dollar man with the smile to match. Though it would just pain you to admit it, in the deepest recesses of your heart, you were glad that he was the partner you were given in such a tricky situation.

“No, no, don’t worry.” You attempted to reassure him, silently hoping that his remark wasn’t made out of any discomfort. “I’m just admiring you.”

Had the lighting in there not been so dim, you would have realized just how shyly Rooster grinned at your words. His body was slightly tense from the light form of flattery that you bestowed on him, proving to him that he truly did like you. Something about you just seemed so— different. So special.

Dinner went by smoothly. An incessant amount of flirting took place at that table, fueling your devious little crush on him. Had you not been haunted by the fact that you were carrying his baby and he was still yet to know, you wouldn’t have even considered not taking him home with you.

You two were just absolutely smitten with each other.

The ride home, though, was absolutely painful. Your chest felt very tight from the fact that you still hadn’t told him, and the warmth from his hand on your thigh could only hold you over for so long. Before you knew it, you were home. The opportunity was slipping through your fingertips.

The car came to a halt in front of your house, both relief and guilt washing over your body as it did so. Though you truly did come to love the feeling of being with Rooster, you missed a warmth from your home that even the sun could not provide. Had you not felt guilty about the fact that you still hadn’t told Rooster about the fact that you were about to be the mother of his child, being right outside of it would have drowned you in pure euphoria.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw the words over at him like a game of catch, but for the most aggravating reason in the world, you couldn’t. Your hand was finding its way to the door handle, despite the fact that you were silently screaming at yourself to spit it out.

Almost like he could hear you, you felt a large, warm hand gently grip yours before he pulled you over. Luckily, you had just taken your seatbelt off, so there would have been nothing to restrain you when you leaned over per his physical request.

Before you knew it, the warmest and most perfect pair of lips were pressed to yours, causing your heart to just melt inside of your chest. You lifted one of your hands and slowly pushed your fingers into his sandy blonde hair as his lips danced with yours, your eyes threatening to fill with tears. You just couldn’t fathom that being the last time you kissed him. That very well could have been the last good moment you two shared as people who liked one another, and not just as co-parents.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” He quietly asked with a playful grin once he detached his lips from yours, the volume of his voice mirroring the way it sounded the morning you last saw him. His long fingers were now gently massaging the very back of your scalp, your eyebrows furrowing at just how good it felt. He let out a small chuckle at your expression and pressed yet another peck to the very corner of your lips, small strands of hair from his mustache slightly tickling your skin. “Thought I’d just let you leave without giving me a kiss?”

Just like that, you felt a bolt of electricity shoot throughout your body. People all around the world walked across hot coals, went skydiving, and rode rollercoasters to replicate the adrenaline that just consumed you. For you, all it took was a small kiss from Rooster.

“Bradley, I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Pure silence.

The second the words hit the air, some might as well have dropped a bomb in the middle of the street. You wasted no time in retracting back to the passenger seat, studying the look of shock and confusion on his face.

“I know it’s confusing, I know you’re shocked. Trust me, I wasn’t exactly relieved and jumping for joy when I found out. I guess we were just too drunk to use protection, but—”

“It’s mine?” He cut you off in complete and utter surprise, his face looking awfully pale. Suddenly, your body was filled to the brim with rage.

“Who the fuck else’s would it be?” You couldn’t help but scoff, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t stand the look of shock on his face. Being shocked about the baby, you understood, but being shocked that it was his? That is how he thought of you?

Rooster clearly did not enjoy your tone. He shot you a small glare as your sudden aggression filled the air, taking his keys out of the ignition. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me attitude; I have every damn right to be surprised.”

As much as you wanted to argue back, you knew that he was right. He truly did have every excuse to be surprised. Seeing as you essentially collapsed upon finding out, he was taking the news much better than you did.

“Why don’t you come inside?” You asked him in a very soft tone, earning another glance from him that made you want to implode. “I can make tea and we can talk about it.”

The silence that filled the air was deafening. At that moment, you just wanted to be completely sucked into the ground. You didn’t know if he was just going to shun you and send you on your merry way, but whatever it was, you wished he would just speak.

Very suddenly, he took his own seatbelt off and opened the door, getting out of the car. Before you could even think to open your own, he did it for you.

Even in his state of shock, he was a gentleman.

You pressed your lips together as if you were scared of what would come out if you didn’t. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you offered him a small form of gratitude for helping you out of the car, quickly retrieving the key to your house from your purse. The sound of crickets filled the night, and the scent in the air signified that it would rain soon. You usually loved smelling it when the rain was on its way, but at that moment, you felt smothered by it.

After unlocking your door with your key, you stepped inside and immediately rid yourself of your shoes, not being able to suppress the small grunt of relief when your feet were free. You were only two months along in your pregnancy, but the small heels you wore to pair with your black dress made you want to chop your feet clean off.

You tossed your keys into the bowl you had tastefully placed on an end table next to the door, rubbing your own shoulder as you heard the sound of Rooster closing and locking the door. He took his time in removing his boots, figuring you taking your shoes off was just a house rule. Had you had just a moment to recognize what he did, you would have sobbed about how sweet he was and begun to unzip his jeans.

“Which kind of tea would you like?” You asked in a soft tone as you made your way to your kitchen, feeling the presence of the aviator behind you.

“Whatever you have is fine.” He told you in a way that was not exactly cold, but certainly not warm. Regardless of that, you opened one of the cabinets and took a small box outside of it, setting it on the countertop. Once you turned to fill the kettle with water, you furrowed your eyebrows at the fact that it was missing from the stove eye it usually rested on.

Your head turned once the sound of running water hit your ears, and your lips parted at the sight.

While you were getting the box full of teabags, Rooster took it upon himself to prepare the kettle.

You didn’t have to ask, you didn't request that of him. Hell, you didn’t even expect it from him. To be quite technical, you served no greater significance to him than a woman whom he had a one-night-stand with.

Well— aside from the fact that you were about to be the mother of his children, but still.

In your house, doing his part in an action that you offered to perform, he assisted you in making tea. He wanted to. He wasn’t asked to, nor was he forced. He just— wanted to.

You knew the action was minuscule, and you knew that taking it as seriously as you were was foolish. You knew that the way tears began to fill your eyes was a bit extreme, but you were hormonal, goddamn it. In your pregnant mind, this was quite literally the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you in your entire life.

The symbolism of it all was what made you ache like no other. After spending what felt like ages in complete and utter fear of how Rooster would react to your pregnancy, the small action of preparing the kettle washed it all away like a wave crashing onto the shore. You were almost certain that the man would run out on you, or that he would simply refuse to take responsibility for his part in the situation. You knew it was wrong to assume that about a man you hardly knew, but you couldn’t refrain from fearing the worst.

The second you saw him with that kettle, though, everything changed.

He showed up for you. He was there for you, and you didn’t even have to ask him to be. Deep down, you wanted to laugh at yourself for making something as simple as filling a kettle with water and putting it on the stove into such a profound sentiment. Despite wanting to do so, you could not bring yourself to it. Just from the way he was there for you in the moment, you knew he would be there for you in the long haul.

Both of you.

“My dad died when I was still pretty young.” He broke the silence as he placed the kettle back onto the stove eye, turning it onto a high setting after doing so. He didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He refused to let you see the pain in his, and he was petrified of seeing whatever was in yours.

Your face fell at his abrupt confession, your heart now twisting in guilt as you blurted out the first thing you thought. “How old were you?”

“Two.” He responded almost immediately, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop as he leaned his head down slightly. From the way he was standing, his back looked incredibly broad, as did his shoulders. You knew the timing was awful, but the fact that you could see the slight curvature of his back muscles through his not-so-thin sweater made your mouth water. You were glad he wasn’t able to see the way you were devouring him with your eyes.

Immediately feeling guilty for the way you were lusting over a grieving man, you deeply inhaled and decided to carry the discussion a bit further. You knew that him bringing up such a topic was to slightly cover the topic of how little he knew about fatherhood, so you decided to push. “Did you have a father figure?”

“I guess, yeah.” He responded in a low tone, clearing his throat as he stood up straight. Practically feeling Carole scold him for his impoliteness, he finally turned his body to face you and leaned back against the counter very slightly. “My Uncle Tom was around as much as he could be. It was mainly my Uncle P—”

He fell silent rather abruptly, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Before you could question it, he finished the sentence that formerly hung in the air. “Maverick. My dad’s old friend, he was flying when my dad died.”

Your eyebrows raised at his last statement. His words seemed to hold quite a bit of weight, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to why that was. You knew that pushing the topic even further would result in something neither of you would like. “And your mother?”

“Died two years ago.” He responded to you in a cool, casual tone. The fact that you brought her up after she had just crossed his mind was too ironic for him to laugh at it.

Immediately, the corners of your lips curved downward into a frown. Despite his collected posterior, you knew that the man in front of you was nothing short of haunted. With two deceased parents and an estranged uncle that formerly served as a father figure, Bradley harbored emotional trauma that would make even the strongest people wince. No one deserved that. Least of all, him.

At least he had an Uncle Tom, though, right? He seemed nice. Everyone loves Uncle Tom.

You took a deep breath as you found yourself shuffling over to the taller pilot, his gaze now tiredly placed on yours. Both of you saw what the other was trying to hide. His pain, your fear; once they were formally acquainted with one another, they disappeared. Your arms snaked around his torso before you simply laid your head on his chest, your eyelids slowly falling shut.

The warmth from his body almost completely consumed you. Rooster wrapped both of his rather strong arms around you without so much as one word. The two of you stood in each other’s arms silently, both silently scared and comforted by the fact that only you two could understand what the other was going through. It was your first embrace not as just soon-to-be parents, but as two people who cared about one another. The baby that was growing in your belly essentially acted as a Cyrano, forcing and tricking you two to realize that you were meant to be more for one another than you formerly realized.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it.” You took it upon yourself to breathe the silence with a whisper, your eyes still closed as you listened to the melancholic sound of his heartbeat mixed with the faint sound of the kettle.

“We’ll just have to figure it out, I guess.” Rooster muttered lowly to you in a way that made your heart melt, crack, drop, and burst all at the same time.

You furrowed your eyebrows in pure awe of his words. You had never felt so held by someone in your life, both physically and metaphorically. You lifted your head from his chest and looked up at the man, your desperately relieved eyes meeting his. “We will?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I don’t think we have a choice.” Rooster teased you in a way that made you let out such a warm giggle, the grin forming on his face turning such a scary moment into something of pure beauty.

“Thank you so much, Bradley.” You abruptly whispered to him, your eyes still wondrously peering into his as you did so. “Thank you for being this nice about all of this, I— I was so scared of how you’d react. I’ve been doing nothing but panicking since I found out.”

Your voice began to tremble midway through your sentence as the sheer horror and exhaustion that you had undergone since finding out began to flash throughout your mind. You couldn’t fight the tear that fell out of your eye as you spoke, and Rooster immediately took note of it.

Before he could do anything, however, the sound of the kettle whistling to indicate that it was ready startled both of you. The pair of you looked over at the same time before you let out a soft laugh at how it tore the moment to shreds, watching Rooster simply turn the stove off. He returned to his prior position and instantly wrapped his arms around you just as he did before, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head once you laid it on his chest again.

The words he whispered to you would be engrained in your memory for the rest of your life. Any time the trials and tribulations of motherhood threatened your peace and your sanity, his words came back to you like a moth to a flame, calming you down completely.

“You don’t need to panic, pretty girl. I’m here.”

Yes.

Yes, he was.

TAGS:

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