#Bradley Bradshaw Fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyber-crystal · 4 months

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i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.”

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…”

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.

Everything seems to fall into place.

IV. for you, i’d cross the line

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.

You’re never letting go, and neither is he.

epilogue—soul ties

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.

You shake your head.

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly.

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.

And you were most certainly right about that now.

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

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senawashere · 2 months

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Carolina?

Summary: Who is Carolina? Is she the other woman? And why Bradley is talking about her in his sleep?

A/n: I wrote this like 2 or 3 years ago for another character and i wanted to post again🤭

Warnings: tooth rutting fluff actually. Maybe a bit angst. And a bit smutt at the end. Hehehehe.

Bradley always talked in his sleep,most of life. So you were ok with it. But one night,everything chances.

You slowly wake up to a chill in the air, realizing that Bradley has closed most of the windows once again, as usual.

The room is dark, and the digital clock on your nightstand shows 4:28; you've only been asleep for four hours.

As you turn to the side, you see Bradley curled up in the blankets, lying on his side with his back turned to you. You approach him, pulling the blanket closer for warmth, and snuggle up to your husband, wrapping your arm around his abdomen. You drift back to sleep with you melting in his embrace, emitting a low, soft purr from his curled lips.

He feels so warm and resilient against you that you bury your face into his back, inhaling his scent, placing a few kisses on his shoulder blades before laying your head on the pillow. You hear Bradley's gentle murmurs as he returns to his dreams. When you open your eyes, you lift your head slightly, leaning towards him in hopes of understanding what he's saying, but his words are jumbled.

"Brad?" you whisper, wondering if he's about to wake up.

"Baby..." he murmurs, and then you hear something inconsistent.

"I'm here," you say softly, kissing his shoulder. He usually calls you "baby," so you assume he's talking to you.

"Baby... My baby..." he repeats, and as you smile at the thought of him dreaming about you, everything shatters with a single word.

"Carolina... Carolina, baby… my…girl"

Wait a second, who is Carolina?

It wakes you up faster than an alarm. As you sit up, looking at your still-sleeping husband, talking about someone named Carolina in his dreams, you're left puzzled. You don't know anyone by that name, so she must be someone Bradley knows, and that's concerning.

"Carolina... beautiful..." the words spill from his lips, almost inaudible but piercing your ears like a punch to the chest.

Lately, he's been so confused, but you haven't thought much about it, attributing it to all the work he put into his job and getting promoted. However, now you see it in a different light.

And yes you know his mother’s name is Carol but the problem is Carol and Carolina are not the same.

Or are they? No probably not.

Could Bradley be spending time with another woman? The thought of him cheating on you didn't cross your mind. Everything seemed so perfect; you were planning the moving somewhere else next summer, and he didn't seem regretful of his decision to marry you.

But then who is Carolina? And if she invaded his dreams, how important could she be? More important than you? It made your stomatch flip.

Afterward, you struggled to sleep, tossing and turning in bed for hours.

Bradley stops talking afterward, turning his face up, and while you lie awake next to him, going through every possible theory in your mind, he simply sleeps peacefully, unaware of your racing thoughts. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, you're already out of bed, perched on a kitchen stool with your laptop, hoping to find a clue Bradley left behind as you delve into the history.

But what if he's really doing this? If he's cheating on you, he wouldn't be foolish enough to get caught like this. Right?

You make tea and reluctantly check his socials that he follows almost everyone he knows. You hate stalking your husband with the thought of him cheating on you but now you want to know if something strange is happening. Unfortunately, or fortunately, nothing suspicious comes up. Most of the accounts are from people who works with, either with people you know,his old friends, or his family members and some of his dads old friends.

No sign of another woman.

That’s good. Right?

Bradley wakes up to an empty bed. It's strange that you're not cuddling him or holding onto him like a koala bear. He blinks his swollen eyes a few times, adjusting to the low light, and straightens the other side of the bed where your body used to rest. Since the room isn't even that cold, he knows you've been up for a while.

Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he throws on a sweatshirt and slowly exits the room, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He notices you immediately, curled up on the edge of the couch, looking out of the window. Your forehead is creased, indicating something is bothering you.

"Hey, honey, the bed was cold without you," he murmurs, walking towards you with slow steps, sitting beside you on the couch near the window.

You look at him, your jaw clenched,on verge of tears and even though you didn't want to start like this, the truth about the morning overwhelms you.

"Who is Carolina?"

Confusion is evident on his face. It's not the kind of thing that someone doesn't know what or who is being talked about. Carolina is a real person, and Bradley knows exactly who she is.

"What's this about now?" he asks, leaning back, putting some distance between you two, his arm dropping over the back of the couch,confusion is clearly visible all over his face.

"Do you know anyone named Carolina?" you push, narrowing your eyes.

"I do... well, I mean... it's not what you think honey really..."

"You talk in your sleep, Bradley."

"What?" his eyes widen.

"You often murmur incoherently, but last night, you kept repeating the name Carolina, and... you even called her baby. You called her baby! You only call me baby. "

The revelation dawns on him as you watch, and he takes a slow breath, exhaling gently. This is going to be more complicated than you anticipated.

"I'm telling you, but promise not to think I've lost my mind, okay?"

"You're scaring me, Bradley," you breathe out. "Tell me. Please."

"Okay, okay," he says, inhaling deeply and then nodding slightly. "Do you remember... the day when we thought you might be pregnant, about like five months ago?"

"Of course, I remember," you nod,biting your lip.

Your period was late, and you had vomited in the morning. Bradley had taken a test, and you both sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, waiting for the results. It came back negative.

You felt relieved, but a part of you wondered how it would have been if you were pregnant. Something in your head told you it wouldn't have been a big deal, but the timing wasn't right because you two were just about to get married and it would have been nice to get married first before having a baby.

"A few days after that... I had a dream."

"A dream?" You furrow your brows, unsure where this is going.

"Yeah. It was about you and me, and... we had a baby. A little girl. It wasn't something crazy; you were breastfeeding her in our bed, and I was watching you, and then I was holding her, rocking her to sleep and she was sleeping in my arms... It felt real, and when I woke up... I felt like something was missing."

You listen to him carefully, your lower lip tense, and your heart pounding in your chest.

"Since then, I've been having similar dreams. At least twice a week. Always the same baby, always with you inside, but we do different things. Sometimes we bathe her,sometimes we play tickling,sometimes we walk in the park, and sometimes she sleeps in a stroller... Once my mom and dad were in it and one time I saw Mav and Penny too, God, it felt so real," he confesses with a shaky breath. "The last few times, we didn't even have her with us. We gave her a name."

"Carolina? Her name is Carolina?" you softly ask, pushing yourself closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Yes. She looks a lot like you, but her eyes are like mine. A perfect mix of both of us, and... I couldn't shake it off. Sometimes I wake up after a dream, and I feel like something has been taken away from us, it feels so real,I miss her even though I don't know her."

"Why didn't you tell me about these dreams, Baby?" you whisper, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

"It felt super foolish, and I didn't know how it would make you feel. I knew we talked about trying for a baby after the wedding, and I thought bringing it up would upset you," he shrugs, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

As you sit on the couch, silence falls between you two, your head resting on his chest, his arms around you. This wasn't the outcome you expected. None of your theories came close to the truth Bradley just revealed.

"I was thinking about the same thing...for a while." you say.

"About what?"

"About having a baby. If the test had come back positive, how would it have been?"

"And...?" He leans back to look into your eyes.

"I wouldn't have aborted it," you admit honestly, and Bradley takes a slow breath, gently kissing your forehead. "Do you want to... start trying for a baby before we talk about,Bradley?"

"It can wait," he replies, looking as if he's afraid to say something that might upset you. "If we continue what we're doing, it's okay..."

"But I want to know what you want, Bradley. Tell me."

He takes a deep breath, running his tongue over his lips before speaking.

"I think I want it." The way your heart explodes at his words is undeniable. Realizing that he feels exactly the same way now brings tears to your eyes.

"It would probably mean a blow to the squad if we start now and succeed," you laugh, watching his eyes glimmer.

"That would be the best thing that ever happened," he chuckles, confessing, "just the thought of going on adventures while our baby grows under your heart... God, I could just cry just thinking about it."

"So," you grin, slyly teasing him as you hold his chin with one hand. "Carolina?"

"It could be something else if it's a boy."

"I like it," you murmur, nodding. "We can add it to the list. But before we start making lists, we should probably start trying for a baby, don't you think?"

He doesn't need more encouragement. As you both laugh and kiss, you find yourselves in your bedroom in an instant, clothes flying off as you fall onto the bed. Giving him a passionate kiss before he undresses you, you can't help but whisper, "I love you."

Ekkkk full of cuteness🥹🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @bradshawssugarbaby @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady

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bruisedboys · 5 months

Text

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

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fandomlit · 2 years

Text

sleep clothes (bradley bradshaw x reader)

summary a power outage allows rooster (and unfortunately, the other men on base) to see you in your sleep clothes.

warnings swearing, suggestion toward adult themes, rooster has a staring problem

a/n so guess who went and saw top gun (rqs are open <3)

gif cred belongs to @bykryx

the squadron had been getting ready for bed when the lights suddenly went out and the usual background thrum of the bunkhouse went silent. rooster looked to the switch to see no one standing by it just as payback let out a groan.

“the power did not just go out,” he huffed, digging through one of his drawers for his emergency flashlight.

“i think it did,” rooster replied as the other men in the bunkroom began to curse. hangman hopped out of bed, not bothering to pull a shirt on as he headed for the door.

“where are you going?” coyote called to him.

“to see if anyone else’s went out or if rooster just left his curling iron on too long,” hangman replied with a cynical smile. and as much as rooster wanted to put him in his smug jaw, he, payback, and coyote all followed.

the backup generator must have been some piece of work, for it only somewhat worked in the hallway, filling it with eerily faint light. some other men were out of their bunks already, milling about the hall with tired grumbles and groans as they talked amongst themselves. “guess it wasn’t just us,” rooster offered with a tired sigh.

“guess it got the girls, too,” payback spoke before moving past rooster. “hey phoenix, c/s!” rooster followed after him to see the silhouetted figures of the two girls of their squadron were in fact hovering near the entranceway of their hall. his heart nearly stopped as he got close enough to catch sight of you in the dim lights.

rooster had seen you in many shapes and forms; workout clothes, dresswear, uniform, even swimwear. but never in sleep clothes.

he thanked what ever god for blessing him with that sight.

“enjoying some mood lighting, boys?” you joked with a tired smile, tilting your head in a way that nearly had rooster swooning. man, he knew he had it bad for you, but this was a whole new level.

you stood in pair of lazily picked out socks and a way too big sleep shirt that left too much and not enough to the imagination, just barely stopping at your mid thigh with no implication of shorts underneath. he prayed the same dim lighting that revealed your adorably tired features to him hid the way his eyes greedily drank in the sight of your beautifully bare legs and the large shirt slipping off of your shoulder in the slightest, exposing your bare collarbone to his prying eyes. he forced his eyes away after a few long moments, cursing just barely under his breath. he couldn’t help the intrusive thought of you wearing his too big shirt, looking up at him with those doey, tired eyes, and, god, he was in public right now.

while you had taken a more lighthearted approach to the situation, phoenix was less than so. “none of you thought to put on shirts? not a single one of you?”

“c’mon, c/s’s not even wearing pants right now!” hangman retorted with a snicker. rooster didn’t know when he had joined their group, but his blood boiled at the thought of hangman’s gaze replacing where his had just been, thinking worse and more perverted thoughts than his own. that stupidly familiar burn in his chest only lessened when he heard you scoff.

“i’m wearing shorts, dipshit,” you huffed and rooster’s eyes followed selfishly as you lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing the pair of spandex that sat even further up on your thighs. he looked away quickly this time, before his mind could get too carried away. “i’m officially the second most clothed person here.” phoenix, who stood in a tee and sweatpants, just shrugged.

“i don’t know about that,” hangman tutted under his breath and rooster had never wanted him to shut up more. luckily, the admiral saved any further debate and intrusive thoughts.

“admiral on deck!”

everyone fell to attention immediately, lining up against the walls. when the hall was completely silent and devoid of shuffling noises, the admiral stepped toward the center. he scanned the hall before commanding, “at ease, but listen up.” everyone relaxed their attention and that’s when rooster realized that you had snuck your way beside him in the brief rush. you caught his eye when he glanced down at you and shot him a jovial, heart-stopping wink before focusing back on the admiral. he couldn’t help but bite his lip to prevent a goofy smile.

“we’ve got mechanics searching for the source of the outage now,” the admiral explained, pacing further down the hall. “lights out will be extended by an hour to accommodate for those whose showers were cut off or cut short. y’all smell terrible. you need that shower.” chuckles arose down the hall. “until we get up and running again, a few reminders: you are still not allowed to mingle in each other’s dorms, you are still required to wake at the same time tomorrow, you are still..”

as the admiral droned on, rooster snuck another glance down at you. you caught his gaze after a moment and the two of you shared an exaggerated look. he leaned closer to you and spoke quietly, “where’d you even get a shirt that big?”

that clearly wasn’t what you were expecting him to say judging by the breathy chuckle you let out. “some laundry mix up a few weeks ago. don’t really know what happened or who did it, but it doesn’t matter. it’s my shirt now. it smells like me and everything.”

rooster let out a quiet chuckle as if the thought of you scenting a shirt didn’t nearly make him shiver. the admiral swept his gaze through the part of the hallway your smiling duo stood and rooster quickly fixed his smile into a hardened expression. when the admiral’s eyes were gone, he whispered to you with a skipping heart, “looks good on you. ‘m sure it smells good, too.”

he looked toward you to see a silent laugh shake through you as you caught his eyes, “thanks.” his gaze flitted away from you after a moment, just as you added, “would rather it be one of your shirts, though.”

his heart stopped. his fervent eyes were back on you within the millisecond. “what?”

“what?” you repeated back to him. but the feeble lighting was just vivid enough that he could see the knowing, provocative look in your eyes as you tilted your head at him and holy shit you were going to be the death of him.

“dismissed,” the admiral called before rooster could even think of a response to you.

you shot rooster a smile that only told him that you were proud of yourself before speaking sweetly, “goodnight, bradley.”

fuck, did you have to say his name?

his veins were on fire. he let out a chuckle that only told you how flustered you had made the usually-cocky pilot. “goodnight, y/n.” he stared after you for a moment, gaze on the hem of your shirt as it just barely rose to the top of your thighs with your pace. the sight of your spandex settled just under the curve of your ass was like a reward.

and though some of the boys jostled and teased him like teenagers when you disappeared back to the girls rooms, rooster’s only thoughts were how to cause another laundry mix up in his favor.

#top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw drabble

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Faking It | Part I

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: none that I can think of except that the reader's height is described as shorter than Rooster's.

This idea has been plaguing me so I had to get it out haha Hope y'all enjoy!

Bradley watches you skeptically. You have yet to convince him that pretending to be your date for your sister’s wedding is an outstanding idea. Your mother has undoubtedly invited a whole slew of bachelors because she thinks you might need some help in the romance department. You decidedly do not. Despite the fact that you are struggling to even get a fake date.

You make a face at him. “I will owe you,” you say. “Anything you want.”

He shrugs. “I don’t want anything.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Bradshaw,” you plead. “I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

He purses his lips, not looking overly enticed.

“I’ll come over once a day and do all your dishes.”

“We’ve got Hangman for that.”

“Hangman does your dishes?” you ask incredulously, trying to picture Jake Seresin in an apron with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “He lost a bet last week.”

You let out a soft laugh, then get back to business. “I’ll clean your room,” you offer.

“I’ll have you know that my room is immaculate,” Bradley replies.

You scoff. “Then do this for me out of the goodness of your heart!”

Bradley chuckles slightly. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is a big ask.”

“Please, my mother is rounding up all the eligible males on the western seaboard as we speak.”

Bradley laughs. “What does your mother have against landlocked states?”

“I don’t know. Political ideology?”

Bradley snorts. “Have you asked Hangman?”

You groan. “Please don’t make me ask Hangman. He will never let me live this down.”

Bradley nods. “That is true.”

“It’s just a weekend. A few photos here and there. Some superficial chitchat with my grandparents about the importance of educational funding for our nation’s youth. My niece loves airplanes so you can tell her all about your latest mission” –

“My classified mission?”

“Well, leave out the classified parts,” you retort impatiently.

Bradley contemplates your proposal while your mind scrambles trying to determine something that might make it worth his while.

“Free drinks for a week,” you say, wiping the already dry bar to give your free hand something to do.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You can’t do that.”

You roll your eyes. Bradley Bradshaw will never go along with a scheme unless it is one hundred percent above board. “Meaning I will pay for them. I get a discount on the alcohol.”

Bradley gives you an amused look. “So, you wish to buy my services.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “I told you, I will do anything you want.”

“Well, I don’t want you paying my tab,” he replies casually.

You lean into the bar with a heavy sigh, bringing your face closer to his. “You are really grinding my gears, Bradshaw,” you say.

His eyes lift to your face as he lets out a wry chuckle.

“Do you really think a weekend with me will be so torturous?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his stool nonchalantly, but you wonder if he does it to expand the space between your faces. “I wasn't actually going to refuse. Just like to see you sweat.”

He chuckles, ducking as you go to smack him with the towel you just used to wipe the bar.

…

“Aunt Barb is a hard-ass,” you say in a low voice, turning your head toward Bradley as your aunt makes a beeline for you at the rehearsal dinner. You end up talking into Bradley’s shoulder because he’s so much taller than you and he instinctively lowers his head so he can hear you better.

“What’s that, shorty?” he mutters, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. But the next moment, you can feel his breath on your forehead and you gulp when his palm flattens against your back. You had been the one who'd asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you hadn’t actually considered what that might entail. Apparently, it entails Bradley Bradshaw’s hand on your lower back and a woozy sensation in your gut akin to a 200-foot roller coaster drop. You aren’t too fond of roller coasters.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet for a split second. Bradley promptly straightens his back. You let out an unsteady sigh and say, “Aunt Barb will be questioning you; be prepared. Have you read my notes?”

Bradley gives you a pointed look. “Of course, I read your notes.”

But as Aunt Barb approaches, you feel Bradley’s touch along your back waver until his hand finally drops at his side.

“Y/N!” your aunt exclaims, giving you a kiss on each cheek. She blinks up at Bradley expectantly.

“This is Bradley,” you say. “This is my aunt, Barb.”

Bradley holds out his hand. “It’s great to meet you,” he says.

Aunt Barb gives him a crafty smile. “Is this your boyfriend, Y/N?” she asks, but her question is directed more at Bradley than at you.

Bradley returns her smile. “That’s me,” he replies, giving you a quick glance.

“Oh, good,” your aunt says. “We were starting to get worried after that whole fiasco with Steven.”

You stare at her as Bradley turns to you. “Who’s Steven?” he asks.

Aunt Barb gives him a probing look. “You don’t know?”

Bradley eyes you inquisitively. “Should I?” he asks, still looking at you.

“Her ex, of course,” Barb continues. “He’s here, you know?”

You peel your gaze away from Bradley to look at your aunt. “What? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s friends with the groom, of course. Or have you forgotten?”

You grimace. You don’t remember Steven being exceedingly close with your sister’s fiancé, so the fact that he somehow weaseled his way into this function aggravates you greatly.

When your aunt walks away, Bradley turns to you with his eyebrows raised. “Steven wasn’t in your notes.”

You give him a sour look. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bradley shrugs. “Still think you should’ve mentioned him. Was it serious?”

“Nope,” you respond curtly, ready to put the topic to rest.

Bradley seems to sense your reluctance to engage in this particular conversation and drops the subject. “Shall we go grab some drinks?”

You’re about to respond when your mother appears before you and you nearly bump into her. “Mom!” you exclaim in surprise.

“Y/N, why are you so jumpy?” she asks.

You shoot a nervous glance in Bradley’s direction, but he appears unfazed. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head slightly.

Your mother looks over at Bradley with a judgemental air. “Are you the aviator?” she asks with a hint of distaste in her tone.

“Indeed,” Bradley responds, giving you a confident look before glancing back at your mother.

But your mother is no longer paying Bradley any attention. She turns back to you. “Steven is here,” she says.

You let out a sigh. “Yes, I know, mother.”

She gives you a knowing look before glancing back at Bradley. “We all thought they were going to get married,” she says with an artificial smile.

Bradley raises his eyebrows and nods his head slowly. “You must be disappointed,” he says.

Your mother seems pleased with his response and nods at Bradley vehemently. “They have a lot of history,” she says.

You close your eyes. “Mom, stop.”

“I’m just saying, he’s here,” your mom says. “Do with that what you will.”

You blink at her. “I will do nothing.”

Bradley watches you squirm sympathetically and, when you glance up at him defeatedly, he takes you by the hand. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure,” he says and starts to pull you away. “We just want to hit the bar before the first course.”

“Sure.” Your mom gives him a quick nod and throws a pointed look in your direction.

You cling to Bradley’s hand gratefully, even going as far as clutching at his arm with your other hand just to get away faster. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whimper.

He looks down at you, squeezing your hand. “It’s why I’m here, right?” he says.

“Right,” you agree, feeling his bicep flex under your fingers as his hand tightens around yours.

…

After dinner, you make your way through the crowd to the bathroom. The evening is nearly over and it seems that you and Bradley have put on a reasonably convincing charade. Bradley’s relaxed disposition has made the evening infinitely more enjoyable than you could have imagined and you find yourself feeling almost sorry that the night is coming to an end. Almost. Because, after all, you won’t be able to take a real breath of relief until you’re in the comfort of your room.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you walk back to your table and you completely miss the fact that your ex-boyfriend has spotted you and is heading your way.

“Y/N!” he exclaims as if he’s surprised to see you attending your own sister’s wedding rehearsal.

You blink at him in alarm. “Steven,” you say with a slight grimace, kicking yourself for not checking your surroundings before making your way across the open floor.

Your eyes scan the tables, desperately searching for Bradley. When you locate him, you can see that he’s already watching you.

Steven steps closer to you, holding out his hands. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, leaning in for a hug.

You recoil as he tries to put his arms around you. “Is it?” you ask, holding up your hand to keep him back. The last time you saw him, he was throwing every insult imaginable in your direction.

Over Steven’s shoulder, you can see Bradley getting out his seat and starting to make his way toward the two of you, a stony expression on his face.

“You look great,” Steven continues, finally lowering his arms.

“Uh, thanks,” you say uneasily just as Bradley steps around Steven to face him.

“Everything alright here?” Bradley asks, his eyes sliding between you and Steven.

“Mm-hm,” you say, instinctively shifting closer to Bradley as Steven continues to scrutinize your every move.

“I’m Bradley,” he introduces himself, confidently extending his hand to Steven.

“Steven.” Steven takes his hand tentatively and you can see the slight wince on his face as Bradley crushes his hand in a handshake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Steven,” Bradley says, and you look up at him sharply.

“Oh, really?” Steven lifts his eyebrows, giving you a smirk.

“No,” Bradley replies flatly.

Steven blinks at him in confusion, clearly taken aback.

Bradley slides his arm around your waist possessively and you lean into him slightly, relieved that he’s playing his part so perfectly.

Steven gives Bradley a hostile look which Bradley expertly returns. Then, he lowers his face, saying, “Drink?”

“Yes, please,” you say, letting out a sigh.

“You take care, Steven,” Bradley says, wheeling you around in the direction of the bar.

Part 2

5K notes · View notes

luveline · 9 months

Note

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound.

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket.

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?"

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?"

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace.

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away.

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly.

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly.

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves."

"My nerves," you say.

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away.

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning.

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?"

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket.

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff.

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight?

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch?

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you.

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it.

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles.

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?"

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain.

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley."

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows.

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication.

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to."

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine.

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly.

"Yes. Please."

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greymoonfeelings · 1 year

Text

That's My Man

whumpuary #9: scars

summary: Even the hottest man on the planet has insecurities about his looks

warnings: negative self talk, spice/implied smut (nothing explicit)

word count: 600

•••

“God, I look like shit.” Bradley mutters to himself as he examines his scars in the floor-length mirror. Fresh out of the shower, the marred skin looks more evident in the morning sun.

“Hey, that’s my man you’re talking about.” You tease, wrapping your arms around his torso. Bradley looks at you in the mirror, seemingly unmoved by your playful comment.

“That’s the mystery. What do you even find attractive about me? I look like Frankenstein.”

There’s a noticeable shift in your demeanor when you realize that your boyfriend is seriously feeling down about himself. It hurts your heart to think that he feels insecure about the man he sees in the mirror, the one that you love so deeply.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s hard not to. Every time I look in the mirror it’s all I see.” His fingertips pull at his cheek, stretching the skin in a way that makes the scars look more prominent.

“Well, you know what I see?” You move in front of Bradley, blocking his view of the mirror. “I see my strong, badass boyfriend who does one of the most dangerous jobs ever yet manages to come back home to me even when the odds are against him.” You trace over the scars on his chest that he acquired when punching out of his plane that was destroyed during a dogfight.

“I see someone who fights for those he loves and never leaves a man behind.” The scars on his cheek and neck are next to be caressed, reminding him that they were the byproduct of his decision to go after Maverick during the Uranium mission.

Lastly, you take his left hand in yours, acknowledging the red mark on his palm “I also see an idiot who burned his hand on my curling iron, but I guess that’s beside the point.” You kiss the welt as Bradley shakes his head, chuckling at your cheekiness.

Lifting his face with your hands, you force him to look into your eyes so he knows that your next words are the truth. “Your scars don’t make you less attractive, Bradley, or less deserving of love. They’re proof of how resilient you are and I love you no matter what.”

“I love you too.”

You press a tender kiss to his forehead before pulling back. “And I’m not only with you for your looks, y’know.”

“Well, what are you with me for?” Bradley questions, expecting a heartfelt answer or perhaps even a sentiment about what’s between his legs.

“The great benefits that the Navy offers, duh! Who wouldn’t want to live in this amazing government housing? Having a working refrigerator is overrated!”

“You’re a tease, you know that?”

“No, I’m just a sarcastic bitch. If I were a tease I would do this…”

You lean in close to your boyfriend, leaving delicate kisses along his neck as you slowly run a hand down to the front of his gym shorts where he is sensitive. Bradley lets out a soft moan as you suck a mark against his collarbone. He reaches out for your hips but you spin away from his grasp.

Smirking at your successful attempt at riling your boyfriend up and getting his mind off his insecurities, you run out of the bedroom hollering, “Well! I’m off to run errands!”

“Oh, you’re in for it now!”

Your squeals fill the apartment as Bradley chases you through the house to get you to finish what you started. Eventually, he catches up and you spend the afternoon showing him every single thing you love about him including his scars.

#heather writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #whumpuary2023 #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

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stargazing15 · 1 year

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Little rascal

A little fluffy dad Rooster drabble

A/N: yes I have a lot of wips, no this was not one of them. Hehe woops

Enjoy!

"Babe, seriously, is that the only thing coming out of his mouth?" Bradley sighed in frustration at the sight of his son. Oh, it was that type of day.

Yup, little Nick learned that you reacted when he said "mama" and has been saying it ever since, to everything and everyone. And when home you got an extended concert of "mama mama mama mamaaaaa". For you it was funny, but Bradley's pride got hurt Nick still wasn't saying any form of 'daddy'. And just like that mister grumpy chicken was back and sulking around the house.

"Earth to Bradley! The man is 14 months old, you know he even calls Mav 'mama'. And Penny, oh and even the lady from the bakery. So for the moment you're 'mama' too."

Bradley made himself smaller to be at eye level with Nick. "My sweet little boy, daddy's sorry, but you would make daddy's day a lot better if you would say 'daddy' for me, or 'dada', I could live with that too, please?"

"Honey, I seriously doubt your cute puppy eyes will work with Nick. You know his are cuter." Even Nick agreed with a "Hehe" and continued babbling in his own language.

"It was worth to try," Bradley smiled softly, "if you don't mind I'm going to the grocery store, can you help me with the list babe?"

"Of course, here you go. And can you bring my Bradley back?" This time it was you showing off your puppy eyes, in hope to make a little smile appear on your husband's face and it worked.

"Thank you for understanding, I'll try to find him." He said before giving you a small kiss.

"Well, actually thank you, now I don't have to go to the grocery store tomorrow, extra play time with Nick. Take your time, I know it helps to cool down after a heavy day."

"See you later babe and you, be nice to mommy, okay?" But Nick was still strolling around with his walker like a little madman guarding the house.

You had this feeling, so you took your phone and put the camera on. Mostly your gut feeling was right and Nick was about to do something funny. You had just touched the button to start filming when it happened.

"Dada? Dadaaaaa! Dada. Dadaaaaa?" Nick was saying while pointing to the door. Oh yes he did, and you were filming. The moment you stopped filming you made a little squeal, startling your son.

"I'm so proud of you little big man, and dada too, I will text dada immediately."

You: right after you left <attached video>

You heard Bradley's car arrive 30 minutes later and he was humming, Bradley was back, he left mister grumpy chicken behind.

"Hi babe, I'm back," he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before putting the groceries on the counter top, "and hello to you too little man. You made dada's very good." And ruffled through Nick's hair, making him babble something at the action.

"Mama mama, waaaaaah." Nick babbled to his father.

"You little rascal, you're lucky I love you."

As soon as Bradley was around the corner to put the last things away Nick did it again. "Dada." Resulting in you and Bradley laughing at the little goofball. Bradley came crawling from around the corner going straight to Nick to start tickling him.

"This time I heard it!" Bradley laughed with Nick. You joined them on the ground to help let Nick win the little tickling contest.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @bradleybeachbabe @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @mavrellover91

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #dad!bradley bradshaw #dad rooster #dad bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #top gun fanfic #top gun: maverick #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfic

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

up to no good

pairing- bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female pilot!reader (callsign clutch) no use of y/n

an- my first fanfic ever! and it's just filth (lol) so 18+ minors DNI. top gun has a hold on me y'all. haven't even opened a word doc since college but the entire film basically lives rent free in my head and I had to write some obscene rooster so I could get back to functioning like a normal person. anyways *nervous sweating*

warning- seriously 18+, not beta’d, swearing, pwp (dogfight football is just an excuse for foreplay they knew what they were doing with that damn scene), unprotected sex, choking, edging, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, dom!rooster, oral (f receiving), rank kink if you squint, bruises, praise kink, dumbification, rooster is a leg man fight me, mentioning hangman during sex (yes this is a warning because jake seresin is sinful), the whole nine honestly I can't believe I'm posting this

length- 3.3k ish words

You silently curse Maverick for introducing the team to dogfight football as everyone trudges down towards the beach. Now, instead of working on your tan or napping on the beach for your one and only day off, you're being forced into athletic competition masquerading as a fun beach game. You like working out as much as the next pilot, but with one day off? You’d much rather spend it horizontal with your boyfriend than sprinting after him in the sand. Your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend who's currently smoothing out his mustache in annoyance while he argues with Hangman about how they’ll split up the teams. You’re not sure who decided to make these two idiots team captains, but suspect it was born out of making sure they wouldn’t kill each other on the same team.

Rooster ends up choosing first, much to Hangman’s chagrin.

“Payback.”

“Wow,” you joke, your hand over your wounded heart for theatrics. “I see where your loyalties lie, babe.”

“Don’t be mad,” Rooster smiles into your hair before kissing your temple.

Pulling you into his side by the waist, he lightly skims his fingers across the part of your hipbone that always makes you shiver. The part that already has a bruise forming from his unrelenting grip this morning, while you were falling apart on his cock.

You glare up at him as if to say silently, don't change the subject, and he pointedly looks above your head to Seresin, pretending he’s not having flashbacks of your wanton moans.

“Hangman, go.”

The blonde flashes his signature smirk, stupid mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and reaches out to tug you from Rooster’s grasp, “Clutch, you’re with me.”

It’s surprising, of course. You weren’t actually mad at not being picked first, and definitely didn’t think Hangman of all people would be the one to do so.

“Bro,” Coyote grumbles. “No offense, Clutch, but what the fuck?"

Hangman shrugs in response, trying to maintain his poker face and not laugh out loud at the way Rooster’s jaw clenches. He knows having you on the opposite team is a huge distraction for mustache boy and well, he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of Rooster’s ridiculous misty-eyed love for you, wouldn’t he?

Phoenix and Bob end up with Rooster too while Hangman manages to snag Coyote and Fanboy, punching Coyote in the shoulder for being so grumpy about not being picked first.

Not long into the game, Rooster has the ball, looking around for an open teammate and you see your opportunity.

As he knew there were no limits to your competitiveness no matter how much you complained about having to play, Hangman suggested you cover Rooster, so you’re already face to face with his very shirtless, very tanned body. You trail your hand across his abs, barely dipping your fingertips below his waistband. Subtle enough that no one else clocks what you’re up to, too consumed defending each other, but suggestive enough that Rooster’s attention snaps to you immediately.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, eyeing you suspiciously, hands still firmly planted around the ball that’s well out of your reach.

You flash the most innocent smile you can manage, “Sorry, babe, you just look so good. Couldn’t help myself.”

He beams down at you, completely disarmed and blushing a little despite his best efforts to maintain a healthy level of skepticism.

“Am I making it hard for my girl to concentrate?” He teases, arms faltering slightly.

“Something like that,” you grin, like the cat that got the cream, before taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment to snatch the ball out of his hands, swiftly turning and throwing it straight to Hangman by the makeshift endzone. He sprints through, throwing the ball to the ground in victory.

“And that,” Hangman shouts, practically banging his chest, “is why you’re never stupid enough to pick Clutch second, fellas!”

“Ruthless,” Rooster feigns hurt across his tanned features, fighting a smile at your cheesy finger guns. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

“What, you think this is a fuckin’ game, Bradshaw?” You taunt.

“Oh, it’s on.”

You know you have to up the ante the next time around, without the element of surprise it’ll be harder to shake him.

You absentmindedly play with the bruise forming on your hipbone before the ball is anywhere near you and you can feel his eyes raking over the spot where your fingers touch. Fighting a smile, you adjust your workout shorts next, tugging them down the inside of your thighs where they’ve ridden up, fingers dancing a little close to your hot center for the public setting, but hey, hopefully no one’s paying attention. Besides, he’s always been a sucker for your legs, evident by how much time he spends between them. By the time he’s done staring and lifts his eyes to yours you’re smirking.

“Bradshaw, my eyes are up here.”

He doesn’t even bother looking ashamed, instead meeting your gaze with that filthy glint in his eyes. It takes everything in you to remain focused on the task at hand. You’re supposed to be sidetracking him, not the other way around.

You manage to sneak around him and catch the ball as Fanboy throws it your way, but you’re a little too far from the endzone to make a break for it without Rooster catching up to you. His dog tags are reflecting in the sunlight, resting against his hard chest and you smile, leaning in to grab them with your free hand.

Pulling him towards you by his chain so you can keep these words between the two of you, you adopt a comically casual tone, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if you choked me with these, babe, I mean your big hands are more than enough but—”

“Nope," Rooster cuts you off tersely as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder before marching in the direction of the parking lot.

You giggle, arching your back to toss the ball towards the group as best you can while still mostly upside down, and throw them a sloppy two finger salute, “See y’all later.”

“You guys are the worst!” Phoenix shouts after you and everyone yells in agreement.

He doesn't set you down until you're in the parking lot, immediately pulling you back against his front.

“You’re gonna pay for teasing me like that, princess,” he breathes in your ear, right hand sliding up your chest and to your neck as his left digs for his car keys.

“Oh no,” you drawl sarcastically, “That wasn’t what I was aiming for whatsoever.”

He can’t help but chuckle, even with his hand practically engulfing your throat you’re still playing him like a fiddle, teasing and pushing his buttons until he aches to put you in your place. He knows exactly what you’ve been playing at, but he still can’t help his primal response to it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna wipe that bratty little smirk right off your pretty face.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you respond cheekily. “Was just admiring my gorgeous boyfriend all day. Always makes me smile, how beautiful he is.”

His fingers tighten almost unconsciously at his rank tumbling out of your delicate lips. And now it’s his turn to smirk, as he hears your breath hitch and feels you grind back onto his growing bulge. He unlocks the car and pulls the passenger side door open with his free hand, turning you around for a searing kiss before picking you up and setting you in his Bronco. He buckles you in, and you roll your eyes at the babying gesture, still in a fiery mood.

Shooting you a warning look for the eye rolling, Rooster gets in the other side and you begin running your hand up his arm, stopping to appreciate his bicep flexing as he turns the keys in the ignition. It’s almost innocent, really, but he sees right through you.

“No touching me or yourself until we get home.”

He bites back a laugh at your pout and settles his hand on your knee as he starts to drive. Which, you find out quickly, is much worse than not being touched at all, although you imagine that’s purposeful. He always knows how to wind you up while barely lifting a finger. You feel his hand burning on your leg, rubbing affectionate circles just south of where you want it. You shift in the passenger seat and the movement subtly urges his hand up your thigh, thinking he won’t notice as his eyes are decidedly fixed on the road.

As soon as he pulls up to a red light, he immediately removes his hand from your thigh to grab your jaw roughly and pull you into a kiss.

“You have to learn to be patient, baby. Keep trying to rush me and I won’t touch you at all,” he mutters against your lips. “Be a good girl for me.”

Your breathing shallows and you nod, both of you knowing as soon as that phrase comes out, you’re done for.

You’re crawling out of your skin by the time he pulls up to the house, mind on an endless loop of please touch me, kiss me, please do something, anything.

“I hope you remember your colors, because if I don’t hear the word red I’m not stopping,” he promises darkly, possessive hand around the back of your neck as he leads you into the house and to the bedroom.

He all but throws you on the bed, making quick work of your clothes. Stepping back and taking his time with his own while he admires you, naked and squirming for him. He watches patiently as your thighs press together, hands fisting in the comforter.

What feels like eons later, he settles on the bed, pushing your legs apart to fit his wide frame between them. Peppering kisses up the inside of your thighs, he refuses to put his mouth where you really want it.

You whimper in frustration and Rooster snickers at your exasperation before licking a stripe up your dripping wet slit. The sound that comes out of your mouth is positively filthy, doubling in volume when he slips one of those thick fingers in without warning.

“Fuck, baby,” It’s his turn to groan now. “You’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through those tiny little things you call shorts.”

“Thought I was going to, been ready for you all day,” you grit out.

As much as you love his mouth on you, it’s not what you need right now as your cunt is aching to be filled. You untangle your fingers from the comforter to pull him up by the shoulders and attach your lips to his. Reaching down to palm his hard cock, you run your thumb across the slit that’s leaking with precum. He drops his head to your shoulder, panting as his control wavers.

“Need you in me,” you beg between kisses. “Please.”

You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything when raises his head to look at you, pupils blown but with newfound resolve and a smug grin on his lips.

“Greedy,” he teases, taking your hands from his cock and lifting your arms above your head.

He easily pins both wrists down with one hand, while the other traces down your body, taking his time palming your tits one by one, touching your hipbones with surprising gentleness, before settling between your legs once more. His fingers slide through your wet folds, pad of his thumb circling your clit and your head falls back against the pillows, body arching at the feeling.

He’s building you up, exactly how he knows you like, your inner walls already beginning to shake with anticipation, clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge.

And then suddenly, he pulls his fingers away and you want to cry with how quickly you feel your climax disappearing into thin air.

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you right now, wouldn’t you baby girl? You’d do anything to get my cock in that needy pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you whine submissively, even surprising yourself at how desperate you sound.

“No more Bradshaw and babe now, huh,” he mocks your cheeky tone from earlier. “Told you I’d fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You wish you had the wherewithal to come up with a witty response about how he hasn’t even fucked you yet and could he get to it already, you really do. But before you can formulate half a thought, he’s finally pushing his thick member into you and no matter how many times the two of you do this you always, always forget how much he stretches you. How each time you wonder if he’s going to fit.

The only indication he gives that he’s as affected by this as you are is that there’s no time to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting, hard and fast and rough. It’s right on the line between pleasure and pain.

The moment he swipes the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves again you’re close, embarrassingly close. You feel your body tensing, winding tighter and tighter.

“Please, I’m so close, please let me come.”

You’re pushing hard against the grip he has on your wrists, to no avail.

He smiles against your skin, nipping at your neck before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“No.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes as he pulls away the hand that was on your clit, slowing his pace to an unbearable speed and you feel your peak slipping farther and farther away.

“Please, Roos—" you start, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

“You know my name, princess,” he growls, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you moan, the hard edges in his words sending another wave of heat through you. “Sir—plea—I need—harder, faster. Ohmy god, please.”

You’re barely coherent and the evil part of him wants to push further, to see how long he can keep you like this, if he can make you lose your words completely.

He completely ignores your pleas, releasing your wrists so he can run both his hands down your body, stopping again to rub circles around the bruises on your hipbones.

“You think they’d believe me? If I told everyone how needy you are for me?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer because all you can think is please, harder, more. Instead, you’re gripping his biceps for dear life, mind still reeling from how infuriatingly slow he’s fucking into you.

“The team would never expect strong, hard-headed Clutch could act like this. Putty in my hands, whining and begging for me like a depraved slut.”

A loud moan leaves your mouth at that and he rewards you by picking up the pace, putting his weight behind his thrusts again. You’re staring up at him with glazed eyes, mouth parted and breathy mewls coming out in a constant stream as he continues.

“Seresin definitely wouldn’t. Can you imagine if I told him how pretty you look fucked out and dumb for my cock? He’d probably think I was lying, thinks you dominate the hell outta me. If only he knew the truth.”

You clench around him involuntarily and he smirks when he sees the blush rising on your cheeks.

“God, I do love having you all to myself, but it seems selfish not to share someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”

You tuck your face in his neck, unable to meet those playful dark eyes. He pulls out and flips you over, pulling your ass into the air and sliding back into you in one smooth motion.

He’s hitting that spot deep inside you, and you shove your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. You feel fingers tangle in your hair, tugging and arching your back as he pulls you up towards his chest, pace unrelenting. Bradley slides that big hand up around to your neck again, finally getting to pound you from behind like he wanted to outside of his Bronco. That seems like days ago, now. His other hand is circling your clit, quickly bringing you right to the brink once more.

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock like the little slut you are.”

You feel like a rubber band, pushed to its limits and snapped. White-hot pleasure courses through you, finally releasing all the tension in your body.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” Bradley’s breath is hot in your ear. You barely register his praise, still shaking. “Wanna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”

You can’t help the obscene noises spilling out of your mouth, even louder than before as he continues to fuck you, relentless, while you try to come down from your high. It’s overwhelming, his thick length pounding your trembling, slick walls. His grip impossibly tight on your hip as he empties in you. The warmth is spreading inside, your walls spasming weakly at the feeling of fullness. He keeps his hands on you as he softens, fingers starting their dance in maddening circles on your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“S’too much,” you slur, head falling back on his shoulder.

If you weren’t in such a daze you might be impressed on how he’s managed to make it his mission to continue ruining you only moments after his own climax. He’s completely supporting your weight, any sense of self-preservation having left you long ago.

He shifts, pulling out and you try not to whine too loudly at the empty feeling. You momentarily think he’s done with his torture, but then he lays you down on your back and puts his lips right to your center, fingers pushing his cum back inside you as it tries to drip out.

“No,” he lifts his head to say again, and you hate how that always sends a wave of heat right to your core. “You begged and begged to come. I’m just giving you what you wanted baby."

“Dunno,” you shudder, “if I can take anym—Bradley pleas—”

“You can.”

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I know you can come again. Just one more and I’ll give you a break.”

He’s making lazy circles with his tongue, his pace the only indication there exists a fiber of mercy in his being.

Your skin feels tight as his praise washes over you. He’s fucking you with his fingers now, curling them while slowly increasing his onslaught on every nerve in your body through his touch to your core. You can’t help but grab his wrist, trying to pull him away from you as he blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re shaking uncontrollably and shouting his name, as you come again, sure you’re going to black out.

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers as you clench around his fingers. He’s kissing your jaw, lips, forehead.

He gently pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around you, holding you through the aftershocks.

“You’re perfect, baby. Did so well for me.”

You smile up at him a few minutes later as he gently puts a water bottle to your lips. Ever the gentleman, you think, even after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

“We have to wash the sheets and comforter,” Rooster complains jokingly, when he’s pretty sure your mind is mostly functioning again. “There’s sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, you should get right on that, Lieutenant,” you mumble, planting your face in his chest.

He reaches out to tickle your sides lightly, “Maybe this Lieutenant will order you to do it for him.”

“It’s so cute you think you’re in charge,” you yawn, rolling over and settling in, clearly not making a move to get up.

Rooster rolls his eyes, forcing himself not to take the bait this time, instead pulling you tighter.

#rooster top gun #rooster smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster fic #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #rooster imagine #top gun #rooster fanfic #Bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

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pasukiyo · 1 year

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𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 | bradley bradshaw

bradley “rooster” bradshaw x f!reader 5,207 words warnings: smutttt, oops unprotected sex summary: you were the most beautiful girl bradley had ever laid eyes on. and he was going to prove he was worth your while. he was gonna make sure you took his picture.

Bradley and the rest of his squad erupted into applause and laughter as Penny rang the bell, indicating some poor old fuck had left their phone on the counter again. “Right, well I…” Bradley began, handing his pool stick to Nat, “…am gonna go get a drink on the newbie. Rounds, anyone?”

He counted the amount of hands raised before making his way over to the bar, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning into it as Penny approached. “Make that five more on the newcomer,” Bradley said, holding up five fingers and beaming at a middle-aged man on the other side who scowled in response. Penny snickered, “coming right up, Roost.”

Bradley tapped his fingers against the top of the counter to the beat of the Kenny Loggins song blasting through the speakers, the lyrics muffled, drowning under laughter and unnecessarily loud conversations. The Hard Deck was packed tonight— there were groups of people everywhere, leaving little space to roam around.

He snorted to himself at the thought of the poor bastard who had to buy the whole joint rounds tonight.

As Penny placed two out of the five beers in front of Bradley, he let his eyes wander to the entrance where a figure had just emerged, the door swinging shut behind them. It was a woman— running her fingers through the hair atop of her head as she slithered her way through the crowd. Just as Bradley was about to look away, he felt his heart stutter in his chest, darting his gaze back to the silhouette in a double take.

She was wearing a tight, slate gray Fleetwood Mac shirt tucked into little jean shorts, a camera bobbing up and down against her hip, held there by a black strap around her shoulder. Bradley felt his eyes watering as he stared, almost forgetting to blink as he watched her push her way towards the bar and…

…oh. She was coming his way, and that was when it occurred to him that the last open space at the bar was right beside him.

She was making her way around the bar, and Bradley couldn’t pry his eyes away from her hips as they swayed with every step she made, weaving her way past Coyote and Hangman where they stood beside the pool table. Bradley could already feel his blood boiling when Jake did a double take, eyeing her up and down as she passed.

He was hopeless— but now he knew for certain that he had to talk to her tonight.

When she finally stepped up to the seat beside him at the bar, he could smell lavender— was that her perfume? She turned to spare him a glance, the corners of her lips curving into a friendly smile as Penny set the last three beers down in front of him. She grinned over to the new girl, holding up a finger. “Just one second,” she said. “The group over there have been staring me down like hawks.”

The girl beside him laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear, shaking her head. “It’s no problem,” she replied, waving her off, and Bradley turned to look at her again once Penny had turned away. His gaze ventured down to her hip where her camera hung, and he cleared his throat, nursing his own bottle of beer to his chest.

“You take pictures?” His words tumbled out of him, and he mentally cursed at himself. Not even a hello, Rooster?

She turned to look at him, and Bradley felt his skin grow warm at the way she eyed him up and down, her lips curved into a crescent. “Only things I feel like are worth remembering,” she replied, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as their irises surged into one another, and Bradley felt his jeans tighten just a little more at her words. He brought the rim of his bottle to his lips, taking a small sip of beer.

He nodded and hummed around the glass, setting the bottle back down on the counter before turning to face her, leaning a single elbow on the bar for support. “Hm. So what are things you feel are worth remembering?” He asked, and she tilted her chin towards the ceiling, sighing as she rested a fist on her hip.

“Let’s see…” she began, pausing to think. “The sunset over the ocean, rainy days, the little ducks that always find their way in my yard…”

Bradley furrowed his eyebrows at this, and she glanced over at him, a wrinkle in her own brow. “You’re judging me,” she said, and the corners of his mouth twitched, raising his bottle to his lips to hide the fact that he was smiling. He shook his head as he took another mouthful of beer, and she narrowed her eyes. “No, you’re totally making fun of me.”

Bradley couldn’t suppress his chuckle any longer and he placed his bottle back down on the counter, shaking his head again. “No, no, I’m not making fun of you,” he replied. “But ducks? Come on, what about things like… I don’t know…”

He contemplated his words as they rested on the tip of his tongue, and when his gaze met hers again, he felt like he was burning. He felt like he was alive, more alive than he’d felt in a very long time. For years, Bradley only worked, worked, worked. Ever since his mom died, it’s been all he’s ever known.

But now, looking at her, he wanted to get to know her. He wanted whatever she could offer him, and he hoped she’d come to want whatever it was he could give her, too.

It was crazy, totally and completely insane, but the second he laid his eyes on this ridiculously beautiful girl beside him, he felt like he was being given another chance. He just had to take it.

“…guys at bars wearing Levi’s and Hawaiian button-ups?”

He watched as her eyes ventured down his body again, and he saw the moment her lips began to curve into a smile before she dropped her head, her hand slithering behind her neck. His chest heaved with a laugh when she giggled, shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, gazing back up at him with those ridiculously beautiful eyes. “Are you worth my while?”

Oh. He could feel those words straight through his jeans, and he suddenly had the urge to take her hand and lead her to the bathroom to take care of it. Instead, he grinned at her behind his beer just as Penny started to make her way back over.

He was definitely going to make sure she remembered him.

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” he replied, leaning in closer. “Can I buy you a drink? Or…” he gestured with his head over to the man across the bar. “…let me get you one on the poor bastard buying rounds for everyone tonight?”

She tried to bite back her grin as he ordered a round for her, watching as the bartender grabbed another bottle of whatever beer he was drinking, sliding it over to where she sat. She wrapped her hands around the bottle and glanced over to the man beside her, who was raising his own bottle towards her. She couldn’t hold her smile any longer as they joined the glasses together in cheers.

“Jesus Bradshaw, you gonna make us wait all night?”

They both turned towards the pool tables where Nat and the others were staring, eyes narrowed in glares. At the realization that Bradley was with a girl though, the corner of Phoenix’s lips curled into a small smirk as she made her way over to the bar, grabbing the other four beers in front of Bradley.

“It’s your go, Roost,” she said, grinning at the girl beside him. “Clear shot with the 8.” Bradley winked at her over the top of his bottle as he pushed away from the bar, gesturing with his head over to the pool table. “Alright, get your camera ready,” he tittered, grabbing a pool stick from Bob.

She watched as he circled around the table, eyeing the 8 ball in the middle, squeezing a single lid shut as he leaned down to eye the cue ball. She watched the pool stick as the end slid between his middle and forefinger, and after a few practice motions, he thrusted the end into the cue ball, knocking it into the 8. She watched the black ball as it rolled down the green baize and into one of the pockets, and he threw his hands into the air in victory, turning to face her.

“You gonna take a picture of the best 8 ball player there is?”

The corners of her mouth twitched and she shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, it wasn’t that impressive.”

Nat tried to hide her laugh with a cough, the others snickering behind their beer while Bradley’s face fell, narrowing his eyes. “Not that impressive?” He scoffed, and she shrugged again. “Right. So you’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

She laughed as he sauntered back over to the bar, taking back his place beside her. “I never said I was easy,” she replied, a glimmer in her eyes. Bradley leaned in, “you gonna make me work for it?”

She leaned in too, her arm brushing against his, his skin seared in her touch’s wake. “If you’re up for the challenge.”

Bradley’s gaze flickered down to her lips, and he contemplated giving everything up and just kissing her right then and there. But then his gaze ventured lower to the slate gray t-shirt she was wearing, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn.

He was going to make her remember him. He was going to get his picture taken.

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” He asked, grabbing his beer and gesturing for her to follow him, to which she obliged, pushing away from the bar. She glanced down to her t-shirt as they circled around the bar, cocking an eyebrow towards her hairline. “Yeah?” She replied, watching as he made his way to the far wall, bending down towards an outlet and yanking the black cords away, much to the whole place’s dismay when the music came to an abrupt stop.

Angry shouting permeated the bar as Bradley placed his beer on the top of the piano she stood next to, cracking his knuckles and rolling his neck along with his shoulders. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t know how to play any Fleetwood on the keys,” he snickered, tilting his head back and eyeing her through his aviators.

She felt warmth pool between her legs when he swiped his tongue between his lips, and she shifted in her place.

“But I can play a mean Great Balls of Fire.”

Dramatically bobbing his head around, he played the first set of keys, looking her straight in the eyes as he began to sing. “You shake my nerves and rattle my brain,” he began, and she crossed an arm over her chest, using it to support her other elbow as she brought a hand to her lips, veiling her smile behind her digits. “Too much love drives a man insane.”

The others— his friends, she guessed— joined him at his side, laughing behind their beer bottles. But his eyes were set on her, and he even nodded down to the camera at her hip. “You broke my will,” he paused to play the following keys, “but what a thrill.”

His friends joined in as he sang the main line, “goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” and the crowd erupted into cheers and laughter as he dragged his fingers down the keyboard. She bit her nails to suppress the laughter bubbling in her chest as he continued to sing, and she could make out a cocked eyebrow behind his glasses.

He sure as hell was working his ass off for that picture.

“Kiss me baby,” he sang, rising from his seat, his fingers still on the keyboard. She approached the back of the piano as he leaned over, their faces so close now she could practically taste the beer on his breath. She smiled when he threw his head back as he sang, “ooh, that feels good, baby.”

He was glowing as he sang, fervently playing each key of the song. She felt like she was being drawn into him, almost as if he were magnetic and she was metal. He threw his hands down on the keyboard and leaned in closer until she could feel the hairs of his mustache prickling her skin, his lips a phantom over hers while he sang, “I wanna love you like a lover should.”

He pulled away to play the next keys before he was right back in front of her face, “you’re fine,” he chanted, “you’re so kind.” He tossed his head back again and when he came back, their lips brushed, and she could feel her skin burn when he sang, “I’ma tell the world that you’re mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Bradley fell back down onto his seat, moving his body to the beat as he continued to sing the song. He watched as she giggled, a flush on her cheeks as she reached down to her hip, her fingers clutching the black object at her hip.

And here it was, the moment Bradley’s been waiting for.

“Come on, baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he sang as she turned her camera on, bringing it up to her face. He watched as her forefinger rested on the button on the top, and right as he sang the chorus again, “goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” he could see her finger press down onto the button.

Bradley was ecstatic, his heart beating harder than it ever had before as he practically shouted the rest of the song, slamming his fingers down onto the last notes of the sound as the crowd hooted and hollered, erupting into applause. But none of that mattered, not when the most perfect girl he’d ever come across thought he was worth remembering.

He grabbed his beer bottle from the top of the piano as he circled around it, practically stumbling into her body, only partially because Nat and the others were crowding around him.

“So?” He raised his voice to be heard over the sea of people around them. “Was that not the best rendition of Great Balls of Fire you’ve ever heard or what?”

She laughed and dropped her head, suddenly aware of how close his body was. And now she was suddenly aware of the ache between her legs, realizing how much she wanted him. And when she gazed back up at him, she knew he was thinking of the exact same thing.

“It was definitely something to remember,” she replied with a giggle. She rolled onto the tips of her toes, curling her forefingers around the belt loops of his Levi’s before tugging him even closer, her breath a whisper on his skin. “I, for one, thought the singer looked ridiculously sexy playing the piano.”

Bradley could feel his breath as it hitched at the base of his throat, her words piercing right through the denim of his jeans and to his cock. With his hand not holding his beer bottle, he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer until her hips surged into his, and the way her gaze moved down to his lips did not go unnoticed.

He was fucked.

“Yeah?” He murmured, to which she nodded, feeling her own breath wavering, suddenly having the biggest urge to kiss his beer-stained lips, to have his body even closer. “Yeah,” she replied in hardly a whisper before his lips were on hers, his mustache deliciously prickling her skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, barely holding onto her own bottle of beer at this point.

It was by far one of the craziest things she’d ever done— making out with a man she met half an hour ago in a cramped beachside bar. But when his hand slithered to the small of her back and drew her closer into his body, she never thought anything had felt more right.

Bradley pulled away, bringing the rim of his bottle to his lips to down the rest of his beer before reaching behind her to set it down on the nearest table. With her hand gripped in his, he led her through the sea of tipsy people, weaving their way between swaying bodies. He could see the restrooms up ahead, but there were so many people in his way, too enraptured in their conversations to see that he clearly needed to get through.

He pressed his lips together in a grimace, squeezing her hand before turning to face her, pressing his hips back into hers to be heard over the speakers somebody had plugged back into the wall. “What if we took this out to the parking lot?” He muttered close to her ear, and she blinked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re not going to beat me up, are you?” She asked teasingly, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth as she eyed the hair just above his mouth when the corner curved into a smirk. “Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.”

She could feel the heat as it crept up her neck and to her cheeks while Bradley guided her through the crowd and towards the exit. She felt like she was floating, like she was walking on a cloud as the man in front of her pushed the door open, holding it until she had passed through before letting it slam shut behind them. She watched as he fumbled around in his Levi’s pocket, fishing out his keys all whilst leading her toward an old blue Ford Bronco.

Bradley was buzzing, just itching to get his hands on this seemingly perfect woman he had on his arm, practically tearing open the back seat to his Bronco and helping her up into it. She laughed as she leaned into the far car door, watching as he climbed in himself, crawling all the way up her body until his face was mere inches away from hers. He grabbed the strap of her camera and pulled it down her arm, reaching over to place it in the passenger’s seat.

“Gotta say, this was not how I expected my night to end,” she tittered, reaching up to once again curl her fingers into his belt loops. His mustache grazed the skin just below her nose, once again tasting the bitterness of beer on his breath as it lingered over her flesh. His eyes were a deep, velvety golden brown and she was basking in them as if they were warm, soft bed sheets. They were devouring her, and if he hadn’t been between them, she’d be squeezing her thighs together to ease the tension at her center.

“Me neither,” his voice was lower than before, raspier. And she moaned. She literally moaned at the sound of his voice, and she used the belt loops of his jeans as leverage so that she could grind her hips up into his. “But fuck, am I the luckiest bastard in the whole world tonight or what?”

She grinned as she tugged him down to her lips, her mouth crashing into his. She was sweating, and he was practically already melting into her like candle wax, and his lips, they were soft as well as their movements were rough. The shorts hairs of mustache pricked her skin in a delectable way, and she removed her fingers from his belt loops to instead weave them through the umber locks of his hair, whimpering against his mouth as she gave his roots a firm tug.

It wasn’t long before he was shouldering off his cream-colored Hawaiian button up, pulling away to slip the white tank top underneath up and over his head. His lips were surging back into hers as he worked the buttons of her little jean shorts, trailing his kisses down her jaw, to her neck, all the way to her collarbone as he dragged the denim down her legs. He pushed the slate gray Fleetwood Mac shirt up until it bunched just below her bra, his lips venturing down her stomach and past her belly button as he pulled the shorts away from her ankles.

She was a whining, moaning mess, her back arching up off of the tan leather seats as he pulled her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floorboards. His hands were warm and big as they cupped her breasts over the lace of her bra, kneading her flesh as he placed kisses on her chest, sucking dark marks into her skin. She was panting now, and she swore she could feel a bead of sweat drip down the side of her face.

“Shit!” she gasped when he reached around to unclasp her bra, practically tearing it from her shoulders and tossing it into the empty front passenger’s seat. He was like a man starved when he pounced, groaning against her flesh when he gathered an erect nipple in his mouth, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he sucked.

She pinched her bottom lip with her teeth and squeezed her eyelids closed when he released her flesh with a wet pop, trailing sloppy, wet kisses in the valley of her breasts to tend to the other. She writhed beneath him, and she could feel herself throbbing for more.

“Please,” she mewled when he pulled away from her nipple, his chin wet with spit and his irises a deeper shade of brown, and she swore she could see the moment his pupils expanded when he gazed down at her. His fingers began to fumble with the buckle of his belt, and her chest heaved when she inhaled a shaky breath, humming in anticipation.

“Want more, baby?” He asked, to which she nodded her head up and down vigorously, her lips parting in a gasp as she let her gaze linger on his chest, the toned, tanned skin of his stomach. She didn’t think she could get anymore lucky— being underneath the most perfect and gorgeous guy she’d ever laid eyes on.

She felt the sudden need to pinch herself to make certain this wasn’t just a dream.

He tossed his belt into the front seat, tearing the button up and his zipper down, and she watched as he peeled the denim from his legs and…

…oh. He was pulling his boxers down at the same time and she felt as if she could foam at the mouth at the sight of his cock as it sprang free. It came to no surprise that he was big, but now that she was actually looking at it— the way the pink tip glistened with pre-cum, and he was so hard, the veins were bulging from his flesh. She was throbbing now more than ever, and she was quick to hook her fingers under the hem of her own panties, ridding herself of the last article of clothing on her body.

And when Bradley looked down, he groaned. She was so wet, he could see her slick as it oozed from her, sliding down her slit and creating a pool on the leather seat. He wrapped his hand around his girth and gave himself a few pumps while he shimmied his way down the seat until he was eye-level with her pussy.

“So goddamn wet,” he muttered, and she could feel his breath on her clit, she could feel the rasp in his voice pulse through her. “All this just for me?” He asked in a low murmur as he pressed wet kisses to the inside of her thighs, dangerously close to her heat. She bit down onto her lip and hummed, nodding her head in reply.

“Mhm,” she gasped when he kissed just above her clit. “Oh fuck, please!”

She was grasping his hair again, tugging hard at his scalp. But if it bothered him— which it didn’t— he didn’t make a show of it.

“‘Please?’” He repeated, eyeing her through heavy lids, the hairs of his mustache grazing against her clit making her go feral. “Please, just touch me already!” She whined, bucking her hips against his face, and his lips were a crescent against her pearl as he drew her into his mouth and sucked and oh, she thought she could come right then and there.

Her lips fell agape as he flicked his tongue up and down her aching bud, bowing his head so the tip of his nose was against her clit whilst he mouthed at her entrance. His tongue pried her open and she shrieked, arching her back and curling her toes and tugging harder on his hair. Her vision began to blur as she stared up at the ceiling of the Bronco, and when he managed to work his warm muscle all the way into her cunt, she squeezed her eyelids closed.

She was in utter bliss, never had sex felt this good, and they were just getting started. She’d never had anyone go down on her before, and now that she knew what it was like, she simply couldn’t get enough. The man between her legs was too good, his lips and his tongue and his mustache too fucking good.

She really needed to get his number after this.

But now she was close. Oh, she was so dangerously close to her orgasm, she could already see white. She panted and peeled her eyelids open, looking down at him to see he was already staring up at her. He rubbed the bridge of his nose against her clit as he lapped at her entrance and her vision blurred with the haze of tears.

“Oh, baby,” she cried, “I’m so close. I’m so fucking cl—“

She was stopped mid-sentence by her moan, and she ground her hips into his face and she could feel her climax as it just started to begin and—

—then it was all gone.

She could no longer feel him between her thighs, and her eyelids shot open, watching as he hovered over her, his lips glistening with her juices, droplets of nectar littering his mustache. She furrowed her eyebrows as the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk and he leaned down to press them to hers, her own taste coating her tongue.

“Why’d you stop?” She whimpered when he pulled away, and he ran the pad of his thumb over her bud with one hand, wrapping his other around his cock with the other and giving it a few tugs. “Didn’t think I’d let you come yet, did you?” He sneered, and her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. He chuckled as he leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, and he lingered even after he pulled away.

She was losing herself in the soils of his irises, and she almost didn’t register what he said at first.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you in no time, darling.”

She watched as he leaned away, still maintaining eye contact as he gripped her hip with one hand, guiding the head of his cock to her entrance with the other. She didn’t dare look away either, even when he pushed the tip in, even when the delicious stretch made her eyes well up with tears.

Moving slowly at first to give her time to adjust, he eased himself further into her until he was finally fully sheathed inside of her. He was so deep and she could feel every single inch of him, and she thought to herself that never had anyone reached the places inside of her he was reaching now. He was perfect, and they fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

She wanted to cry. She would forever be grateful that she decided to walk into that ridiculously crowded bar despite her initial apprehension due to how packed the parking lot was. She would forever be grateful that she walked over to the smoking hot guy at the bar and gave him a chance. She was grateful for the night, for the universe, for everything right now.

Eventually, he began to pick up his pace, the windows fogging up with every heavy breath, every thrust, every smack of skin against skin. Her legs were shaking, and as he leaned over to hover over her, one hand kneading the flesh at her hip and the other clutching the car door behind her, she grabbed at his arms, her nails etching crescent moons into his skin.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, fluttering his eyes closed and tossing his head back. “You’re so tight.”

She was squeezing him so well, he felt like he could hardly breathe. He slammed his hips harder into hers, feeling the coil at the pit of his stomach. He was so close to breaking, and he could feel she was too.

She could, in fact, feel the stretching of the rubber band at the pit of her stomach, and she was dangerously close to snapping. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she whimpered and mewled incoherent nothings, just able to make out his silhouette in her watercolor eyes.

“I’m so… I’m gonna… oh fuck!” She mewled. “I’m gonna c… I’m gonna come!”

He nodded as he pounded her harder, faster. She was clenching around him as she began to break, her body quaking in the wake of her orgasm. Bradley removed his hand from the car door behind her and gripped her other hip, practically slamming himself repeatedly into her as hard as he could, no doubt making the Bronco shake.

“Oh fuck!” He growled as he felt himself about to snap, and he managed to pull himself out just in time to unload all over her stomach, spurts of white coating her skin. She was blinking repeatedly to clear her vision, staring up at the ceiling of the car as he collapsed into the door behind him, his chest heaving as he chased air back into his lungs.

After a few moments, she managed to push herself up with her elbows to lean back into the car door, facing him as he wiped the sweat from his brow. If she had any energy left in her body, she’d crawl into his lap and kiss him until the sun rose back up the horizon.

But instead, she nudged his knee with her foot.

“You never actually told me your name,” she panted, and he squeezed his eyelids shut, throwing his head back against the window and covering his eyes with his palm.

“I never did, did I?”

“Nope.”

She chuckled as he pushed away from the door and scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Bradley Bradshaw,” he murmured against his skin. “And if you’d give me your number, I’d love to get you to take my picture again sometime.”

a/n; finally my first bradley fic!! mf has been on my mind so much and i can’t believe ive put off writing for him so long— i know this isn’t tom riddle or harry potter related but i hope you guys still enjoy because i really wanna start writing for bradley and my other comfort characters 🥹

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #bradley Bradshaw fanfic

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cherryblossom-enthusiast · 2 years

Text

Thunk! (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

I watched Top Gun: Maverick. Need I say more for the motivation to write this short little fic? If I continued this short little fic, would be people be interested in reading it? Let me know! Otherwise, pour in some requests for me. I’ve got the rare motivation to actually write.

Summary: You’re dying from the heat of the sun, but some are worth the burning feeling. One of them is Bradley Bradshaw.

In other words: You’re hot and sweaty, but so is Bradshaw and it may just be the thing to make you go haywire. That and the football he accidentally hit your head with.

Fluff(?)

Words: 1.1k

Part 2

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The heat was sweltering and that was putting it mildly.

“Beer?”

You look up from your book as a cold bottle touches your cheek making you flinch a little. Way too eager to get any sort of salve, you take the bottle quickly almost spilling it. “Don’t mind if I freaking do.”

Penny, your aunt Penny that is, slides onto the bench chair in front of you, a similar drink in her own hands. Taking a small swig of her beer, she nods at the paperback in your hands. “How is it?”

You shrug as you take your own slow sip. “Decent.”

A small but all-knowing grin slowly etches itself on her lips. “Hm, okay.” Her tone sardonic. It makes you want to wipe the expression off her stupidly pretty face, but you hold off on saying anything else. Anything, and you mean anything is ammo for teasing when it comes to this woman and she’s been going strong for the past couple of weeks.

“Spend the next couple of months with Penny.” Your mother had almost ordered you to do. Fresh out of university in the standard 4-year period time-frame. You weren’t one to take breaks, never have been. Throwing your body into lectures, your student life flew by and before you knew it, that part of your life was over.

No parties, no hangouts, just you, your copy of Pride and Prejudice, and your cat Judy.

In a brief, terrible miscalculation of saying your thoughts out loud in front of your mother, she then pushed you into taking a couple months off from looking for a “forever job” and booked you a plane ticket straight to this beach instead.

And that leaves you here. 2 weeks later from flying in an airplane by yourself for the first time.

Almost hurling the contents of your stomach in the process.

You were definitely not looking forward to going home.

You both fall into comfortable silence for a small while until you pick up your beer bottle and put it to your sweaty, otherwise blotchy cheek once more. Not missing a beat, Penny comments on it immediately. “You know, the bar has a multitude of problems, but the AC is not one of them.” She places her elbows on the table and rests her chin on one of her palms. “ I know you get hot easily kiddo, why don’t you read inside?”

Tapping the bottle, you instantly avoid the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Uh- just,-“ shit. You thought. This woman was good, too damn good at getting under your skin. “Just wanted some fresh air?”

Why’d you fucking question yourself?

“This the same girl who hates hiking, biking, running, and otherwise any other activity that ends with “ing” that happens outdoors?”

“I don’t hate them, I’m just not very good at them.” You defended, eyes still averting all over the place.

Another swig of beer as she raises her eyebrows. “Riiiight,” she elongates her speech, making it sound as sarcastic as possible. She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before another, much huskier voice screams at the both of you.

“Heads up!”

Oh boy you thought. Here we go again.

The football slams against your head, hard enough that an audible thunk! rang in your ears. Your shoulders tense and letting out an “ow” you palm against your skull to rub at the site of impact.

Penny puts the teasing on hold and immediately scans you over for any injuries. “Oh shit, are you okay?” She asks, voice dipped in worry.

You manage to say “All good.” With a small grimace, eyes still squinted.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m really sorry about that.”

It was like alarm bells rang in your head. That voice you thought. God, it was pathetic it affected you that much.

Completely forgetting about the aching for a brief while, you turn your head to the new figure beside you and sweet mother Mary, you almost regret it on the spot.

You come face to bare-chest with Bradley fucking Bradshaw.

You quickly avert your eyes once more. You’d been doing that a lot today and it was kind of getting tiring if you were being honest with yourself. Just getting attacked on all fronts you supposed.

It’s like he covered himself in baby oil or something.

There’s a hitch in your breathing that you really hope Penny doesn’t notice. “I’m uh- I’m fine-“you stutter “I’m just- I’m good.”

Nice. Great job.

“You sure?” He asks, moving his head to try and catch your gaze. “Is there any way I can say sorry or make it up to you?”

Honestly, just stand there and look pretty.

“No, I’m good, it’s no problem.”

The man was not taking that as an answer. “Look, I think we’re about done anyways, and getting a couple of drinks after getting changed- That is to say Penny’s open tonight.” He directs his question to your aunt with a hopeful smile and she just nods her head with that sly glint. “Can I repay you with some drinks?”

You weren’t a drinker and it was for good reason. Just as you were about to tell him not to worry about it once more, your aunt beat you to a reply. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it Bradshaw.” She answered for you. “As long as you don’t cheap out on her drinks.”

He just let out a scoff and rolled his eyes in amusement. “Pen, I know I can be an asshole, but I don’t think I’m that much of an asshole.”

You finally meet his gaze and he lifts the corners of his lips into another apologetic smile. “I guess I’ll be seeing you at 9 tonight.” This man is putting his full sincerity into his apology and you’re only hearing words buzz. Half of the reason being your head was still kind of aching and the other half because his sweat-slicked abs were still on full display in front of you. “Sorry again, about that.”

Not being able to come up with any other intelligible reply, you simply purse your lips and nod.

Bradshaw finally leaves your vicinity and it feels like you can breathe again. You let out a sigh and blow a piece of your hair away from your face. You notice Penny’s signature smirk and your mouth turns into a flat shape. “You knew didn’t you?”

“Anybody would know in 2 seconds.” She shrugs . “Also, your paperback’s been upside down the whole time you’ve been out here.”

You groan, slamming your already injured head onto the table in hopes that it would just knock you out cold. “He’s just stupidly hot.”

“And I just got that stupidly hot guy to buy you drinks so I deserve a thank you.” She states proudly as she finishes her beer. “Now go home, get changed, consume alcohol, and live a little.”

You hear her rise up from the bench in front of you, probably getting ready to handle her rowdy bar for the night. Before she leaves, you can’t help but make a small jab of your own. “Yeah, well take your own advice and screw Mitchell already.”

“I already have, and I’m not planning to again” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Yet.”

“Ewww.”

“Hey, you serve snarky, you get snarky.”

#top gun maverick #top gun #miles teller #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Tom cruise #x reader #top gun fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #fanfic

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senawashere · 24 days

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We're on this together. (Chapter I)

Bradley Bradshaw × Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Nobody warned you for how hard it is to become a mother,same for Bradley.

TW: infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf. Mostly angst.

Tears were streaming down your face,your hands were trembling. Searching for Bradley's number in your contact list has never been this difficult.

Your fingers slid across parts of the screen you didn't want to touch, making your frustration even worse.

The phone line rang at a deafening volume. Once, twice, three times until it goes to voicemail.

His stupid voicemail.

"Hi,its me Bradley. Please drop your message!"

Taking this as a sign, you chose not to try again.

After all, talking to Bradley about it right now would only make him worry for nothing, considering he was busy on deployment and miles away from you. He was about to return this week.

It wasn't something he could solve. Maybe it was but not right now.

Within a few minutes your phone rang. As his name popped up on the screen, a heart emoji next to it and his photo of him grinning stupidly, you felt terrible for doing this to him.

Not only did you let down your own dreams, you were about to let down his too.

You replied, remaining silent. You expected your voice to sound like a lump in your throat.

"Baby, are you there? I couldn't get to the phone in time at first."

You were motionless, your lack of words showed him that. "I'm fine", giving yourself some time, you suddenly started to feel everything you didn't feel until you got home.

"I was at the doctor's today."

"Why are you talking like it's the end of the world? Are you okay?"

Throughout his breathing, it was easy to imagine him even stopping whatever he was doing to pay better attention to you; Not because it wasn't there before. You should have called Penny or someone, they would know how to take care of you.

"Wait, is it about babies? Tell me you're joking," he finished with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You could imagine and hear it perfectly.

In the past, when you received good news, you would pretend that something bad was coming, now it's just another thing you regret doing.

You were selfish for talking to him, he was so far away; You could talk to him about it when he got home.

Talking and doing this and that now would cause him more anxiety than he ever had in his hectic daily tour life. Still, he was the only one you needed.

"No, quite the opposite."

The call suffered a long pause, filled with his deep sighs and persistent tears streaming down his cheeks.

You didn't let a single tear fall until you got home, but did you verbalize it? Putting it into words made things different; it felt more real.

"Fuck," he mumbled, clearly a little out of place.

“I can't have kids, Bradley,” your words were interrupted by the growl you were trying to hold back.

He could tell when you were talking to him that everything hit you at once. Over the years, he was able to recognize even small details.

''I'm the reason we tried and it never worked. I cursed it."

"No, baby," he took a deep breath. "Please don't blame yourself. You know it's not your fault." You ran your fingers desperately through your hair; This is what it must be like to feel useless on the phone. Just what you imagined before you made the call. It was bad to announce this to him. "Are you alone? I can ask someone to check on you. They’ll do that, okay?

“Please,” You didn't want to spend the rest of the day by yourself. Also, even though you didn't want to talk to anyone but Bradley, you knew Penny would understand you better, she knew how to make you feel less bad, it would be nice to be around her. And once she mentioned she went through something like that so maybe she would understand you.

Being alone with your harsh thoughts will not be a good option anyway. "I thought about calling her, but I finally gave up, I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Calling you still doesn't seem like a good idea, but I didn't know what to do."

Your weak voice was killing Bradley. If it made him sad to hear that, he couldn't imagine what it was like for you.

"You did great, baby, this is a tough situation but we're on this journey together. You can ask for anything baby, remember?" He smiled, a muffled smile came over the line; It made you feel a little better.

"We can still have children, you know that."

You wanted to tell him that what works for others may not work for you, that your condition may not be that malleable because your condition is genetic. Still, you didn't know if they were true or not, all your thoughts might just be the result of your momentary frustration, but they might also be true.

You need to talk to Bradley about this, everything that's going on in his mind. You didn't want to do this over the phone anymore.

“We can try,” you sniffled, still avoiding the tears you didn't even know were falling. "We can try." You repeated, trying to convince yourself.

"Talk to me, baby. Try to distract yourself a bit, huh? Please. Do you want me to turn the call off? Maybe you can take a long bath with your favorite bubbles or eat something different. That might help."

Even though it sounded wrong, his desperation to help you was adorable. Talking to him made everything perfect, his voice was soothing, you could hear him talking for hours. Now it was no different.

“I just want to hear your voice,” you said, lying on the cold floor of the main room. It would be nice to sleep. It seemed reasonable to forget the previous hours for a few minutes. "You are busy?"

"Not exactly."

"Then tell me how the mission went."

His voice sounded flatter and softer, you could imagine how uneasy he was even from the phone, it was possible to imagine him striding around the room with the phone in his hand. He talked about the mission details the night before. The contrast of how you described your previous day with what happened at the right moment was painful, happy and suddenly you were breaking it.

Everyone knew that Bradley dreamed of having kids, that kids were running around the house and so were you, you wanted to have kids with him even more but with you he would never have one.

"Can I say something?" You asked, taking a deep breath,cutting through his words. "I love you,I love you so much."

Everything was unfair, you both tried so hard. He, too, had become weak from trying, just like you.

"I love you too, baby. This," you could see him in your mind, pausing and gesturing with his hands, "this won't change anything,okay? I still love you so much as the day i fell in love with you."

"We are on this journey together."

"We are on this journey together.”

—-----

Your body trembled.

A cold hand was wandering around your waist as you slowly opened your eyes, feeling a ridiculous headache fill your vision. Your eyes found Bradley crouched on the ground in front of you, and he looked good compared to you. His eye bags were not purple from the 4 hour sleep he was getting,or his hair wasn't messy after the cold,rainy and windy weather out there.

"What are you doing here?" You frowned. Bradley chuckled as you laid your head down once the headache made you feel like you were going to throw up. He could answer your question but you were flattered, he wouldn't think you noticed he was there because he knew you needed him.

So he ignored it, helping you get up.

"Come on, get up. It's cold on the floor, I'll put you to bed." He tried to get you to stand up for him - he failed; but you shifted your weight onto his body, wrapping your arms around his neck, which he found worriedly cute.

“I need you,” you whispered, drunk and sleepy, burying your face in his coat. Let its scent warm you. He smelled amazing.

It was a relief to hear him say that. He didn't want to get into an argument about how it would affect his job in the near future, as you had fought before for the same reason. "I know my baby." He kissed your hair, hugged your waist, and carried you to your room. “She wants to lay down with me.”

He laid you down on the bed, doing the same as he lay on your side, face up and facing the white ceiling.

They both knew it was necessary to speak, but neither knew who should speak first or what they should speak about.

You ran your fingers over his stomach, placing your palm under his shirt, warming his cold hand with your body. You moved closer to his body, nestling into his side as he wrapped his arm around you.

"Tell me, what's on your mind?" He said without looking directly at you.

"There's a lot", your mere words made his throat dry. “It's weird knowing your body can't do what it's supposed to do, especially when you want it to,” you gasped through sobs, his grip pulling you closer to his chest for comfort. "I'm afraid you'll stay with me and a few years from now you'll realize you made the wrong choice." These words hurt him. It hurt him so much to see you blaming yourself.

He hugged you even tighter and asked you to look at him. "I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'm in love with you. That won't change, and it's not your fault. We can try IVF as if it will work, and it's worked for a few people, and we'll have a happy and healthy baby. We have the money for it. If the money I make as a pilot isn't enough, i can even find a part-time job. I can enter just for you, I'm married to you and I love you so much, why should I leave you?"

There were tears in your eyes and you hoped he was right. "What if it doesn't work? If my body miscarries? If we try and never succeed? I don't know if I'm ready to try again-"

Before you finished your sentence, he grabbed your cheek and gave you a messy kiss. He was far from okay, he was desperate, you didn't know how to decipher whether he was trying to silence you or show his emotions. The salty taste of your tears accompanied by the burning in his throat didn't help at all.

You put your hand on his chest and stop him. He was in distress, he probably wanted to stop you with a waterfall of negative thoughts but he didn't know how.

“I don't want to try, I just don't know what to do yet, and it's killing me right now.” You were complaining.

He kissed your forehead and let you lie down.

"We will find a way. It's still new, we can think better or find other ways. Adoption is also a good option, but of course if everything happens at the right time."

You stayed silent for a while, imagining a parallel where Bradley was right and things worked out. Although you were still not convinced by this, you agreed with him. After all, there would be no other way, and you still wanted to have children.

“Adoption sounds good,” you mumbled against his chest. You hadn't thought about it yet, it hadn't even crossed your mind. “There is no risk and there is no way we can go wrong.”

You felt relieved that he was there for you, guiding you to feel better about this.

"You see?" he asked with what looked like a weak smile. "We'll find a way because I don't plan on having kids with anyone but you, so it has to be with you. Whether you like it or not." He joked, drawing a smile from you as he touched your nose with a wet kiss.

It was incredible how he managed to make even the most difficult moments seem lighter.

"Good, because I still want to have your stupid kids.”

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @bradshawssugarbaby @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady @lewmagoo and if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

REBLOGS,LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE HIGLY APPERICATED🤍🤍🤍

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bruisedboys · 6 months

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I have a concerning amount of Bradley Bradshaw thoughts, so I was so excited to see your post asking for them!! You also made a post about being bad at eye contact and I’ve never related to something more in my life. So…

I started thinking about Bradley and shy!r who can’t hold eye contact with him!! But I can’t decide if he’d be understanding or hold your face toward his and lovingly tease you. What do you think??

(This is my first time requesting but I’ve been following you for a while and love your blog!🤍)

omg. so I’ve decided he absolutely does the second one because he’s such a huge flirt …… also I made this a blurb hope you don’t mind !!

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x fem!reader

You’re out grocery shopping with Bradley (which is nerve wracking enough already, he keeps pulling you out of the way of other customers by the waist, leaning over your shoulder to read the ingredients on a tub of yoghurt you’re looking at, his face an inch from yours) when he stops in the ice cream section and just looks at you. At first you think you’ve got something on your face.

“What?” You ask, confused and a little self conscious.

“You look really pretty,” he says simply, smiling that awful (gorgeous) smile that you hate (love) and obliterating any thoughts of self consciousness you previously had. “I’m so in love with you I could die, sweetheart. Seriously.”

Your heart seems to explode out of your chest. Your face gets hot and you’re sure your legs almost give out. You can’t look at him any longer because he’s so handsome and he’s lovely and kind and looking at him means knowing he’s looking right back at you. With his stupid gorgeous brown eyes and pretty smile and undeniably handsome moustache.

You avert your gaze to the linoleum floor. Staring at it as if it will save you from your incredibly sweet boyfriend. And then said boyfriend starts laughing. He laughs and you should be offended, should tell him off for laughing at you when you’re literally being tortured in the middle of the grocery store, but his laugh is maybe your favourite sound in the whole world.

Bradley drops the carton of ice cream he’s holding in the cart and surges forward to take your face in his hands, never rough but definitely demanding of your attention.

“Babe,” he says, faux serious, eyebrows pinched in an almost-glare, though his grin betrays the act. He lifts your jaw so you’re looking at him again. “I’m talking to you. You know it’s rude to look away while I’m talking to you.”

He’s joking, of course he is. He knows how shy you are and would never ever demean you for it. Still, you struggle to meet his eyes, opting for staring at his nose instead.

“Bradley,” you say, breathless but trying not to be. “You can’t just say something like that while I’m trying to get groceries. It’s life ruining.”

“Life ruining!” Bradley laughs, loud and ecstatic. “You’re life ruining. You’re so lovely it makes me sick. Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my gosh,” you complain, almost begging with him. “Stop.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip (he doesn’t put up much of a fight at all. If he did you’d still be firmly stuck), and step away, hot around the collar, stomach churning with butterflies, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Bradley just grins at you. “You’re cute,” he says. “Come on, let’s find the sprinkles. Do you want chocolate syrup too?”

You honestly don’t think your stomach could handle it.

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bloodwrittenballad · 9 months

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The Egg Incident | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It turns out your husband is in fact very useful in the kitchen…

Warnings: Making out, suggestive themes, hint of smut at the end, married people banter, teasing, pranks, like one swear word? it’s short but fluffy and silly!! and not proofread!! i’m gonna list this as 18+, so minors, scram. based off a tik tok trend. okay bye <333

You saw it on tik tok, and you thought it was hilarious. Women from all over were posting videos of them using their husbands and boyfriends heads to crack eggs. It was genius, and the reactions were nothing short of amazing. You couldn’t help but imagine your own husband, Bradley, in this situation.

The mere thought already had you chuckling quietly to yourself, looking over at your sleeping husband as a smirk grew along your lips. Oh, you were so going to be trying it out in the morning. With a sigh and a small kiss to his nose, you settled in next to him for the night, cuddling into his side as an almost apology for the plan you’d be unfolding on him in the morning

Now, typically you weren’t an early riser. You liked sleeping in on your days off, but Bradley seemed to have other ideas. You woke up to your neck being pecked and tickled, no doubt by Bradley’s infamous mustache. His lips trailed gently down your shoulder as you turned to face him, a smile on your lips as you gazed upon your husbands pretty face. “Mornin’, you pretty little thing.” Bradley whispered along your skin as he continued bathing you in his love. “Morning to to you too, handsome. Someone’s in a good mood today,” you noted. “What? A man can’t show a little appreciation to his wife by waking her up with some lovin?” That had you giggling, as your hand reached up to hold his cheek. “Appreciation? Or desperation? Cause can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself this morning.” It was the truth. His hands hadn’t stopped roaming your body since the second you woke up, not that you minded of course. “Why you little-” Bradley began, but cut himself off as he lowered his mouth to yours once more.

And soon enough the two of you were in a heated make out, Bradley on top of you as he began making his way down to the needy spot between your legs. You were moaning, panting, clutching the white sheets in complete need as his jot breath fanned over your body like a sauna. And he was so close, so close to giving you what you wanted. But then- your stomach rumbled. Loudly. It sounded like a damn thunder storm, and Bradley couldn’t help but laugh at the sheepish look on your face as he began pulling away from you and stood up. You whined, making him chuckle more as he helped you out of bed. “Let’s get you some breakfast, baby, then I’ll have mine.” He said with a wink, leaving your mouth agape as he led to you the kitchen.

Once there, Bradley, of course, made himself comfy on the barstool by the counter. “What? You’re not gonna help me?” You teased with a knowing smile. Bradley wasn’t the best cook, to put it nicely. Hell, the man could hardly make toast without burning it. “I am helping!” Bradley defended, “I’m sitting here, all nice and pretty. I’m the eye candy,” he winked. And that he was, you agreed. As you looked him up and down, his abs on display as he was only wearing his boxers. With a playful scoff and shake of your head, you turned towards your fridge and began grabbing all the ingredients you needed for your breakfast. You began cooking, and once the time was right, you grabbed the eggs out of the fridge. That’s when a cheeky smile rose upon your features, as you remembered the countless tik toks you saw the night before. Your smile turned into a smirk, as you reached for a bowl and made your way towards Bradley.

Who, was watching you lovingly and was none the wiser as you padded your way up to him. You set the eggs and the bowl down, giving him a quick kiss. “Someone’s in a good mood,” Bradley copied your words from earlier, reciprocating the kiss. You had a sly smile as you said, “only because I have the best helper.” Bradley’s eyebrow quirked as you pulled away, but before he could say anything- wham!

The egg in your hand gently bounded across his forehead, “what the-” he watched as you smiled softly to yourself and mixed the egg into the bowl. “Baby, what the fu-” and then the second egg. He was left even more speechless as you walked back over to the burner, pouring the egg mixture into the pan. Your back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see the laugher you were trying to hold in as he stuttered out. “HUH?” Bradley finally croaked, and that’s when you lost it. You almost keeled over, laughing loudly as Bradley looked at you with wide and confused eyes.

“I am so lost right now, babe.” He said, walking over to your shaking with laughter figure. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked up at him, “see? now you’re not completely useless in the kitchen anymore!” You said with a small clap of your hands, before you went to turn around and focus on the stove. But before you could, Bradley was hauling you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder and matching you towards the bedroom. Not before he switched off the stove, of course.

“Bradley!” You squealed, playfully and lightly pounding your fists onto his back. “Let me down, my breakfast!” You whined, before Bradley tossed you onto the bed. “Oh baby, don’t worry, you’ll get your breakfast. Just not the one you were expecting.”

And then his boxers dropped to the floor.

#ೃ⁀➷ parker’s collection of writing #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun #top gun fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw smut #drabble #fluff fic

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astyrial · 6 months

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casanova captain bradley bradshaw x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: there's a new pilot in town word count: 1.4k warnings: drinking, c/s = callsign masterlist | requests are open

it's your third day in san diego, well really, on the naval air station north island base. there isn't much you know of the area, let alone the local bars and restaurants. however, a name catches your attention upon hearing so many of your colleagues discuss it during a training activity. the hard deck, a well known bar for many navy officers, seems rather welcoming to newcomers.

so, in an attempt to integrate yourself into the area (despite the anxiety ridding your veins), you decide to make your way down there. in an outfit that doesn't exactly exude 'naval officer', you jump onto your electric bike and ride through the base's gate. the streets are packed for the evening, leaving you to take your time.

you park your bike, buckling your helmet to the seat. the sky is filled with sea salt smells and clouds that roll across the ocean. a soft sigh passes your lips as you look around for a second. the hard deck's parking lot is nearly filled with cars and motorcycles, a few people still packing into the building.

your brain rattles with whether or not you should head inside, however, that little voice telling you to go for it, overrules the common sense. just as another car pulls into the parking lot, you make your way into the building. it's nearly packed full with only a few open spots still at the bar.

in an attempt to grab yourself a drink, you weave through the crowd and make your way to the bar. the bartender is moving back and forth between people and pouring more beer. she has a rather soft and sweet smile on her face despite the rush. you take a seat on one of the stools and grab your wallet.

after freeing herself from hoards of navy officers and college students, she finally catches you across the bar. "you're new here," is the first thing she says, something that you never would've imagined she would know.

"sharp eyes, it's my first week at the base."

"well, aren't you lucky then, because your first drink is on me. i nearly never forget my patrons, so, what'll you have darling?" she- penny, as her name tag suggests, leans against the bar's wood paneling.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, shrugging your shoulders. drinking was never a huge thing within your family, something you never quite got into, "um, how about you pick your favorite beer, and i will have that! thank you."

penny clearly takes a liking to your short 'thank you', her warm smile becoming a little more genuine. you wait for a minute as she looks over the selection, your eyes looking around nervously at the crowd. a couple of the officers were in your class earlier in the day. meanwhile most of the patrons were completely absent from your memory.

what doesn't help is someone grabbing the free seat beside you, his cologne strong. it wafts through the air until it reaches your nose. you turn away for a second, trying to breathe in a semblance of fresh air. when you turn back, penny is making her way over, two beers in hand.

"one for you and one for the regular," she sets them down, your eyes looking over at the so called 'regular'.

the first thing you notice is the bright hawaiian shirt and the prominent mustache lining his upper lip. he looks over at you as well, however, his eyes return to the bottle in front of him rather quickly. you nod slightly, giving penny a smile to show your thanks. she takes a few steps away to catch another person asking for a drink.

you take a quick drink from the bottle and wonder if coming was the best decision. you have no one to talk to, and you certainly don't know what to do as you awkwardly drink. plus, a lot of people at bars are not exactly people you tend to-

"good beer choice, usually the pretty ladies go for something a little different. are you navy or something?" his whole body turns so that it's facing you.

you finally get a good look at him when you turn as well, your eyebrow raised in surprise. mostly surprise that he suspects you're navy and is still hitting on you in a packed bar. "i am, how about you get rid of the pretty and then we can talk more," his dark eyes staring right back at yours.

he shrugs, taking another drink from his glass, a smile still on his face. there's a bit about him that seems so intriguing to you, and quite attractive as well. his light tan, the clear muscles beneath his shirt, the cocky smile on his face.

"well, i only say things that are true, i can't go around lying now," the man gains a small smile out of you, you bring your drink up to attempt to hide it, "i have a reputation to keep up here."

you tilt your head, your eyes open wide. "right... such a gentleman. so, mr. hawaiian shirt, you navy too? or you just hoping you can get away with hitting on a navy officer in a building full of navy officers?" it's your turn to give a somewhat cocky smile, trying to add to the somewhat playful banter.

"i am, rooster, bradley, at your service," he does a small two-finger wave, giving you his callsign first.

"oh, you're one of the ones who took down that uranium plant a few months ago... my name is c/s, y/n. you're a hell of a pilot, shit at flirting though, i'll say that," your smile suddenly becomes rather wide, your arms crossing in front of your chest.

bradley brings a hand to his chest is fake surprise, his mouth turned into a frown. he leans back some and shakes his head. he closes his eyes as though he's attempting to fight tears, "oh i'm so wounded, i can't believe you would say such a thing. i am absolutely not shit at flirting, trust me."

"i'm the one you are flirting with, and i say you are," you roll your eyes at the well-known pilot, unable to rid yourself of your smile, "plus only one of us is trying to pick up someone at a bar."

"your smile says otherwise..."

"excuse me? my smile says otherwise? sure, rooster, keep thinking that," instantly, you're biting your lips, trying to hide the smile that wouldn't disappear.

bradley shrugs, crinkling his nose, his hand quickly reaching for a small napkin resting on the counter. "well, in case it's not just in my mind, here's my phone number. or perhaps i'll just have to run into you around the base," he slides it towards you, not losing eye contact.

a ring of butterflies cause a sense of nausea in your stomach, unable to know what to say to him. you grab it off of the counter and brush your hand against his. "just taking this to throw it away at home, don't wanna leave it here to be penny's problem. or any other girl's," you stuff the napkin into your back pocket.

"right, i wouldn't want it to be any other girls' problems either..." bradley's eyes stay trained on yours, meanwhile, his hand grabbing his beer for another drink.

before you can say anything else to the casanova captain, someone is walking up to the two of you, swinging his arm over bradley's shoulder. the man is around the same age, a toothpick between his lips, and a badge sits on his shirt with the name 'seresin' imprinted. he looks you up and down, a stupid smile on his lips.

"so this is why you decided to abandon our pool game, slick," the seresin guy holds out his hand for you to grab, looking confident as you've ever seen.

you grab it, being quick to pull your hand away and return it to the counter. he furrows his eyebrows, seemingly confused by your actions to close him off. you can only conclude that this doesn't normally happen to him and that you're a phenomenon in his life.

"well, i should probably get going, i have an early morning. it was nice to meet you bradley, maybe i'll see you around. i personally enjoy a good morning jog," you give him a quick wink, looking up at seresin a moment later, "see you around too, seresin."

it was this moment that really made bradley realize that you were definitely going to be using that number that he gave you.

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edensbuttercups · 2 years

Text

Thank you - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a pretty long time, but finally it has been completed and I'm not too mad about it, which I deem a success. I've been trying to keep busy and write more, so if there's any requests, ideas, thoughts, anything really, I'm more than glad to read about them and discuss them or write about them ♡

(Also can you tell I suck at titles? Because I can)

Words: 1.8k

He sat on the edge of the sofa, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, sighing in disbelief at his realisation. He had lost them. His dad’s sunglasses. Gone. He looked everywhere, from the bedroom, to his jacket, his car, everywhere. He looked in each room, and the most he had found was some coins that had slipped into the kitchen drawer and some receipts that had been lying in one of his jackets for way too long.

It felt stupid for one moment, clinging on to an object that meant so little to so many people, but that was one of the things that made him feel the most at home. Even in his rarer moments of fear, the way the world assumed a tinted colour while he wore them comforted him enough to push on, making him feel closer to everything that he had lost. His fingers shook as he took a steady breath, standing up once again and looking around the room. Trying to retrace each step of the previous day, he stood dumbfounded when he realised that he had no clue when he last even had them on. He felt his chest tighten at the realisation, and this somehow felt worse than what he had gone through on that goddamn mission. This felt worse, and he couldn’t breathe, and all he could do was close his eyes and go back to last evening, hoping, really hoping that he could somehow retrace his steps.

“Over here!” you waved your hand over your head in an almost theatrical way, catching his attention from just outside the Hard Deck. You had agreed on meeting here as soon as he was done, and both of you had found a way to finish just a little ahead of schedule, wanting to spend some quality time after a few days of barely seeing each other because of work. He beamed when he saw you in that dress, one of his favourites, and ran the rest of the way, opening his arms wide to catch you in a hug and spin you around. His lips peppered soft kisses along your cheeks before settling for your lips, pulling you closer, not fully intending on letting you go. “Babe, we should go.” You tried to interject, loving the tickling sensation his moustache offered but painfully aware of how close the time was to inching to your reservation. “I told them 8pm sharp. And it’s-“ “7:39, honey. I know what I’m doing.” He cracked a smile and winked at you, his sunglasses slipping lower as he did, gracing you with the sight of his hazel eyes. “You know I don’t like being late.” “It’s a 5 minute drive from here and the Bronco is ready for us.” “But what if-“ "Most people will be here tonight.” He pointed behind you, reading the small sign that Penny had put up. Fridays: Karaoke night. All of the aviators had been challenging each other for the past month, choosing the cheesiest songs they could and making Fridays their night, singing their hearts out and enjoying the time together. And yet Rooster would rather have you to himself than humiliate Hangman at Karaoke.

The restaurant was basically empty and you were basically on time (with a whopping three minutes to spare, because yes, you had arrived early, but you also ended up in each other’s arms for some time, whispering sweet nothings and sharing kisses before finally leaving the car), and the waiter so kindly showed you your table, the view of the sea and the soft crashing of the waves in the distance lulling you into a comfortable silence. You ordered and talked for most of the evening, catching up on what had happened in the past few days, laughing at how into his storytelling Bradley got, gesturing around as he spoke. Once you recovered from your laughter you peaked down, seeing the small thing you had gotten earlier today for Bradley, smiling when you remembered about it. “You know, I was forgetting actually but… I got you something.” He laughed, raising his hands and insisting that you didn’t have to get him anything. “It’s a date, no gifts needed.” “I know, but I saw this and it reminded me of you.” You reached down for your bag and pulled the shirt up, smiling as he reached over to grab it, unfolding it to inspect it. It was simple, yet way more colourful than his favourite beige Hawaiian shirt. This one was dark blue and scattered with birds and flowers, some of the threads of gold, the material light and breezy, perfect for a summer evening. You watched as his eyes crinkled in adoration, absolutely adoring your choice. He peeled the shirt he was currently wearing and slipped the new one on. “It’s so elegant.” “You’re the only one that could call a Hawaiian shirt elegant, Roos.” “No, but come on, it’s fancy!” “It is fancy.” You laughed, seeing his excitement. “I love it.” “I’m happy you do.” you replied, your smile growing. “I love you.” he muttered, leaning over the table to kiss you, his hand cupping your cheek, feeling your smile at the gesture before reaching down to take his shirt off, substituting it with his new one, the colours making his skin glow.

“Honey, I’m home!” You joked from the door, walking into your house and coming to a halt when you saw Rooster standing in the middle of the living room, eyes scrunched up in concentration as he looked ahead, not yet aware of your presence. “Baby?” You walked over and shook him lightly, worried when his eyes found yours and one of the tears slipped from his eyes, his breathing picking up once more and inching towards frantic, the air escaping his lungs faster than he could take more in. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” “My glasses.” He said, and you could see the tension in his jaw, an attempt at keeping it together. He hated when his emotions got the best of him, knowing how he should be able to be calm and collected, but sometimes he just couldn’t. And when that sometime was over something as relatively silly as this? That made it worse. You reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek, leaning over to kiss him softly. “It’s okay, we’ll find them. You had them yesterday.” you said, remembering when you had met before going out. He had them on when he kissed you, and he had them on until he climbed into the Bronco, slipping them in his shirt’s pocket. You went over the night aloud, adding some comments here and there to try to get him to smile, like how how pretty he looked when he picked you up wearing them, or how he definitely had them when he made out with you, almost making you late_, barely getting a reaction from him, but still proud of the slight twitch in his lips. “Your new shirt.” You said, finally stopping your ramble and glancing up at him, one hand up at the connection you made. “I already checked, they’re not-” “No, I mean, I gave you the new shirt last night. You took them off before that.” You tried to think back to when you got home. It was late, and you had drank, which made this task harder, especially when all you could truly focus on was the way he had held you once you walked through the door, his hands holding you steady as you slipped your shoes off, the darkness surrounding both of you as you made your way to the bedroom. You reached the bedroom, looking down on the floor. No shirt there, but… “The car? Did you check in the-?” “Yes.” he interrupted you, tone harsh and frustrated. “Bradley.” You looked at him, eyebrows furrowed while stopping your movements. You knew he was frustrated, you knew he was panicking, but you were only trying to help. “I’m sorry.” You nodded. You knew he was, and his tone was honest, no matter how harshly that also came out as. “Help me look. Where did you leave your shirt? The old one.” you specified this time, taking a deep breath. “Laundry.” He pouted slightly, aware of your intent in helping him, but still annoyed and upset about the situation. He wasn’t panicking anymore though, which he was thankful for.

You nodded once more, walking into the bathroom and stopping the washing machine, waiting for some of the water to drain before opening it, rummaging through in search. “Here it is!” you exclaimed victoriously, pulling out his shirt, soapy and drenched, eyes on him. You watched him as his expression changed from stern to relieved, his eyes softening and welling up when he saw the familiar outline in the dripping pocket, kneeling alongside you and pulling them out. A soapy mess, but intact and fine and perfect. “See, it all worked out.” You said, placing a hand on his arm, letting out a squeal when he pulled you in his arms, trapping the wet shirt in between your bodies. Neither of you cared, his relief making his grumpy mood immediately vanish, and the feeling of being in your arms making your victory all the more worth it. “I love you.” He muttered into your shoulder, holding you close. “I know it was silly, sorry for how I acted.” “Roos.” You pulled away, searching for his eyes, placing your hand on his cheek. “I know what they mean to you. You’ve had them for your whole life. They’re important to you, and anything that is important to you is not silly, not to me. Okay?” He smiled at your words, nodding. “And I love you too.” You added with a smile. “Good.” he chuckled lightly, standing and bringing you up with him, the shirt falling with a plop onto the floor. “We should probably get out of these wet clothes, right?” He asked with a smirk, drying his sunglasses on the bit of his shirt that was still dry, gently placing them on the bridge of his nose with a charming smile, his hand trailing up your arm, slipping under the strap of your dress. He let his mouth fall agape when the strap slipped down your arm, pretending to be surprised by his own action. “You're unbelievable.” you said back, smirking yourself as you reached nonetheless for his shirt, pulling the material up to reveal his skin. "And you love that." he winked, laughing.Shirt and dress discarded, he couldn’t help but look at you, pulling you back against him, his arms tight around you. “Thank you.” He whispered again, holding onto you for just a moment longer, before picking you up and taking you to the bedroom, knowing just how he could thank you.

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