#I love rooster's mustache | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!

You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.

"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."

"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."

"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."

You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.

"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."

You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.

"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"

"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"

"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.

She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.

"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"

"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."

Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.

You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"

"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."

Your stomach drops.

"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"

"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"

"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.

"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"

"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"

"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.

"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."

"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.

"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"

"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."

"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"

"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.

"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"

"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."

He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."

"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"

"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'

"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"

"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"

She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.

"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

4K notes · View notes

roosterforme · 1 month

Text

Party of Three, Checking In | Rooster x Reader

Summary: According to Bradley, your pregnancy was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened. He could see and sense the small changes in your body, and he was already getting into dad mode. And now, after weeks of waiting, he could finally talk about it whenever he wanted to.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, allusions to smut, pregnancy topics

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley had you half undressed on your bed with his hands on your hips and his lips on yours. You had no doubt that he was excited. You could feel him. His mustache prickled your nose, and you moaned, trying to get more friction against your body. You needed more of him everywhere, but he slowly started to pull away. He was distracted. His eyes were drifting to the nightstand, and you knew what he was looking for.

"Holy shit," he gasped, reaching to grab the pile of ultrasound images. He managed to persuade your doctor to print twenty of them for him at your appointment two hours ago. And he just couldn't seem to put them down even as you wrapped your legs around him and laughed.

"Roo, you're being a tease."

He groaned and looked at the pictures and then at your face. "I'm not trying to, Baby Girl. I'm just so fucking excited." His cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were blown wide as he added, "I can't get over how much the chicken nugget grew."

You bit your lip and ran your fingers through his already messy hair. The baby was starting to resemble an actual baby and not just a nugget. The heartbeat was strong, and everything was going great. You didn't even feel as sick as you did a few weeks ago. But Bradley was leaving very soon for another deployment, and you didn't want to rush him through his feelings.

When you leaned up and pressed your lips to the paper airplane tattoo on his right bicep, his attention returned to you. "You'll be the best Daddy in the world," you promised.

"Sweetheart," he moaned, finally giving you some of that friction you needed with his big, warm body. "Call me Daddy again."

You ran your tongue over his tattoo before you whispered, "Daddy."

He tossed the ultrasound photos aside, and then his lips met your belly. "I love you. I love you both so much. I'm so excited."

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

On Saturday morning, it was hard to be upset about his upcoming deployment when Bradley took one good look at you. Your eyes were bright, and your smile was wide as you carried the iPad and a few of the ultrasound photos over to where he was sitting on the couch waiting.

"You ready for this?" he asked, kissing along your neck as you turned the tablet on. "God, you smell good."

"Probably because I spilled coffee on my shirt," you murmured.

Bradley grinned as you started up the facetime call to your parents. You were wearing his old shirt, and he ran his nose along your ear and whispered, "You always smell nice."

You made a soft sound as the iPad rang. "You're just extra horny for me right now because of the Nugget."

"Perhaps," he replied, fully knowing he was usually like this. "But you're over the top for me right now, so it's only fair."

"Hi!"

Bradley jumped a few inches away from you as your mom answered the call. "Hey, mom," you said with a smile as you tried to pull Bradley's hand out from under the shirt you were wearing. When he looked at himself on the tablet screen, he realized his cheeks were flushed, so he scooted a couple more inches away from you and tried to keep his hands to himself.

"Wait, hang on and I'll get Dad." Your mom vanished from view, but Bradley could hear her calling your father's name loudly throughout their house.

"They are going to lose their minds," you whispered excitedly as you laced your fingers with his. The two of you had been waiting until after your twelve week appointment to start telling family and friends about your pregnancy. On top of your nausea finally starting to calm down, you looked absolutely stunning. Bradley could finally admit that yes, your ass was looking a little bigger these days, but definitely in a good way. You kept telling him you were bloated, but he thought you looked like a fucking goddess. There was just something extra delightful about your tits now, too....

"Hi," your dad huffed, clearly out of breath as he and your mom both appeared on the call. "Sorry, I was outside getting ready to cut the grass."

You turned to look at Bradley, and he nodded at you with a little grin. "We won't keep you too long. We just wanted to tell you something."

"Is everything okay?" your mom asked, brow furrowed as she leaned a little closer to the screen. "Bradley, did something happen with your deployment? Is it longer now?"

"No," he replied immediately, because she sounded so worried. "We're calling about something exciting. Well, we're excited about it, and we think you will be, too."

Your parents still looked confused as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then you held up one of the new photos of the nugget and said, "I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandparents."

Your dad gasped, and your mom was immediately shoving her reading glasses onto her face to get a better look. "Grandparents?" your dad asked with a smile, but your mom shrieked.

"Grandparents," Bradley confirmed a little louder over the delighted screaming.

"Oh my god!" your mom wailed, shaking her husband. "We have to move to California. Take the early retirement package. We have to move! We're going to be grandparents!" Then she looked back at the iPad as you started to laugh. "I'll call our realtor on Monday, and I'll start looking at listings in San Diego again. When are you due? I wonder if we can move by the spring!"

"Late March," you told her as you held the ultrasound images a little closer to the camera for your dad to look at while your mom started to pace.

"Kind of looks like a cute chicken nugget," your dad said with a soft smile.

"Right?!" Bradley said excitedly. "That's what I've been saying!"

Your dad reached for your mom and finally got her to stop walking around the kitchen in a daze. "Your mom and I have been talking about moving anyway, and being in a warmer climate near the two of you.... I mean the three of you... would probably be ideal."

Bradley noticed a few happy tears in your eyes as well as your mom's. "That would be great, dad," you whispered.

A few minutes later, you and your mom were all giggles as you ended the call, and Bradley couldn't stop smiling either. After you tossed the iPad and the photos onto the coffee table, you crawled onto his lap and cupped his face in both of your hands. "I can't wait to tell everyone at the Hard Deck tonight," you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

"Nat is going to lose her fucking mind," he muttered, his lips brushing yours. "She spent years picking on me for being unwilling to settle down, and now we're having a kid."

Truthfully, he never minded. Nat kind of became his family after his mom died; she was the first person he really opened up to. She was there to witness the aftermath of his one night stands and his adamant insistence that bachelorhood was what he wanted. He just never knew he could have a partner until he met you.

You raked your fingers through his hair, soothing him in that way that only you could as you kissed the scars on his cheek. Then you whispered, "I'm glad we told your parents first."

Somehow you always knew what to say and when to say it. Bradley tightened his hold on you until your chest was pressed to his. "You made that happen," he muttered. "Because you're perfect."

Your cheek came to rest on his shoulder, and Bradley could hear tears in your eyes as you said, "I wish I could have met them."

"Don't cry, Baby Girl. My parents are smiling somewhere at the thought of the nugget. I just know it."

It took Bradley a minute to realize that your soft breathing and limp arms around him meant that you were asleep, and he had to try not to shake you with his silent laughter. He knew you were exhausted so he sat quietly with your body cradled against his, looking forward to the day when he could hold you in one arm and the baby in the other.

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

Everyone seemed to think the whole purpose of the night out at the Hard Deck was to wish Bradley and Reuben good luck on their upcoming special deployment, and that was fine with you. That was part of the reason you tried to get everyone to come out on Saturday evening for a drink, but it wasn't the only reason.

"You ready to go?" Bradley asked as he walked into the bedroom where you were still getting dressed. You took one look at him in his snuggest fitting pair of jeans and the tropical print shirt that matched the one you were wearing. You squeaked softly.

"Almost." But now you were thinking about just staying home, unzipping his jeans and getting in bed. "You look hot."

He smirked and picked up the ultrasound photos as you struggled to button your own jeans which were starting to feel a little tight now just like your uniform pants. "And you look like I'm gonna fuck you hard into the bed later tonight."

"Let's stay home," you said quickly, but he was already shaking his head.

"I want everyone to know about the nugget before I deploy. You'll just have to whine and bug for me to bring you home from the bar earlier rather than later."

You rolled your eyes but led the way out to the kitchen where you pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator. It was icy cold, and you knew it was going to taste delicious, but you didn't want to open it until you got there. Bradley led you outside to his Bronco and buckled you in after he handed you the pictures of the baby. It wasn't a long drive to the Hard Deck, and the two of you started taking bets about who was going to cry.

"Mav will shed some tears," Bradley rasped as he drove.

"No, he won't!" you insisted. "But Maria will. And so will Bob and Penny."

"There's no way Bob will cry."

"He will!"

"Nah. But I think you're underestimating how sappy Maverick can get."

You shook your head as he pulled into the parking lot. "What if everyone cries?Oh my god, what if nobody cries?" you asked as you walked along, holding his hand.

"Nat is a given," Bradley said, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he pulled the door open for you to walk into the noisy bar. "Just wait."

With your fingers laced together, you and Bradley headed right for the bar where Penny was taking a handful of orders. When she caught sight of the two of you, she held up two fingers. "This is where the fun begins," you whispered as Bradley held up just one finger in response. Penny looked a little confused, but she got just one bottle of your favorite beer ready instead of two. When she set it down, you asked, "Penny, could I get a straw for my Gatorade?"

"Sure," she told you with narrowed eyes, reaching for a straw without taking her eyes off you as you opened your drink. "Here you go."

"Thanks!" you replied cheerfully. When you walked away with Bradley's big hand resting just above your butt, you felt her eyes following the two of you. "I think she's suspicious."

"Excellent," Bradley murmured before taking a sip of his beer. The first person to greet both of you near the pool table was Reuben who would be leaving with Bradley on this dreaded deployment.

"What's up man?" he asked your husband before leaning down and pulling you in for a hug. "Hey, can you bake some of those cookies I like and send them away with Rooster?"

You laughed and pecked him on the cheek. "Yes. As long as you look after him for me."

"I always do," he told you with a wink. He looked at your drink and asked, "You want something from the bar?"

"Nope," you told him, hoisting your plastic bottle a little higher as Bradley's hand slid lower to your butt. "I'm all set."

"O-kay," he said, looking as puzzled as Penny. Everyone was used to seeing you and Bradley with matching beers in your hands, including Cam and Maria who both materialized next to you.

"Which aviators are single again?" Cam asked, glancing around so suspiciously you snorted.

Maria smirked and said, "Not Bradley. Not Jake. Not Bob."

You gasped as you looked at Bob leaning on the edge of the pool table lining up a shot next to Maverick. "You made it official? You're not just fucking and cuddling with him all night?"

"It's official," she said, smiling at him when he looked up at her. Then she turned back to you. "Want me to get you a beer or a tequila shot or something?"

"No, I'm good," you told her, tapping her drink with your Gatorade.

"Mmmk," she said, giving you a bit of side eye as she walked away. Now Bradley was talking to Jake and Cat about his deployment. They were the only two here who already knew you were pregnant and that tonight was supposed to be the unveiling.

"Nobody guessed yet?" Cat whispered to you. "I've never seen you drink anything except a beer when you're out for the night."

You shook your head and laughed. "Give it another minute."

When Bradley's hand slid down to cup your butt through your jeans, you had to press your lips together to keep from giggling. He kept telling you that the way you were filling out your pants was working for him, and you'd taken to wearing yoga pants around the house with more frequency as a result.

"Here she comes," Bradley rasped next to your ear, sending a ripple of anticipation down your spine as his best friend came barrelling your way. He gave you a little pat and pushed you toward Phoenix.

"Hey, Nat," you greeted with a smile.

"What is this shit?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at your Gatorade. "I'll get you a real drink." Then she glanced at Bradley where he was hovering next to you with a grin. "The two of you look like idiots in your matching shirts, and I am not saying that with love."

He burst out laughing. "Thanks, Nat."

"Let's get that drink," she said, but then her eyes shifted between Bradley's face and yours as you brought the straw up to your lips and took a long sip. Bradley's hand migrated from your butt, wrapping around your waist and pulling you slightly in front of him as his palm came to rest on your belly over your tropical button down.

"I'm actually all good with this one." Now, when you raised your bottle, Nat's gaze dropped down to Bradley's hand, and she gasped so loudly, she sloshed some of her drink onto her hand.

"You're not. Are you?" she asked, eyes wide. "Are you? Bradley!"

When you looked up at your husband, he leaned down and kissed you as he chuckled. He was looking at you with the most loving expression, his gaze never wavering as he said, "Go on ahead and say it, Nat."

"Are you pregnant?" she practically screeched, and when you looked at her and nodded, she burst into tears.

"You were right," you told Bradley as his best friend slammed into him, the liquid from her glass sloshing all over Mickey. "She's definitely crying."

"Crying about what?" Bob asked in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Rooster's gonna be a dad!" Nat wailed, squeezing him around the waist before switching and hugging you tight. "He knocked up his wife, and that's why she's drinking Gatorade!"

Next thing you knew, Bradley was unbuttoning his shirt with a bright smile, revealing the tee underneath that read Dad in the Streets, Daddy in the Sheets.

"Roo!" you gasped when you read it, but it was too late for you to be annoyed by it. Your friends were closing in on the two of you, and you reached out for Bradley's hand.

"Congratulations!"

"I was wondering why you were drinking a Gatorade!"

"Are you serious right now?!"

"This is so exciting!"

Bradley only released your hand to give Maverick a hug, and you were surprised to find that he was definitely crying. But now you were crying, too. Because everyone you cared about knew now. Bradley's parents and your parents and the community of friends that you loved so much. They all knew.

"A round of Gatorades on me!" Cam called out before picking you up off the floor in a bear hug. "Oh shit, I don't want to hurt the baby," he said before practically dropping you back on the floor.

But then Jake caught you in his arms while someone handed Bradley a bottle of champagne. "I'm happy for you, Angel. I know how much you both wanted this. That man worships the ground you walk on. It's actually pretty distressing to think about, but he'll be the same way with the kiddo."

You couldn't even keep track of how many people had given you a hug. Penny brought you some sparkling grape juice, and Reuben offered to run to get food if you were hungry. You kept swiping at the tears in your eyes, but Bradley had no shame at all.

"I love you, Baby Girl!" he called from a few feet away where he was handing out the ultrasound pictures like they were celebratory cigars and sipping on the champagne bottle. "Look how adorable this nugget is," he was telling Nat and Maverick. "I'm gonna have the cutest baby ever. I mean look how fucking perfect my wife is."

You found his obnoxious shirt more endearing now than annoying, and when you tucked yourself against his side, his lips tasted like champagne. And he smelled delicious. And he looked incredible. "Oh no," you moaned softly as he put the remaining few photos in his jeans pocket. "Roo."

He looked down at you and smiled before chugging what was left in the bottle. You watched the scars pull taut on his neck as he swallowed, and your hand came to rest on his abs. After he swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he asked, "You about ready for me to take you home and fuck you hard into the bed?"

You didn't even care who heard him as you dug the Bronco key out of his pocket. "I'll drive, Daddy. You save your energy."

After that, you and he made a pretty hasty exit which was a surprise to exactly nobody. As much as you were dreading sending him on a deployment while you were pregnant, you know that you'd have so many people around you who would be happy to help you if needed.

Once you started to buckle Bradley into the passenger seat, he placed a few sloppy kisses on your cheek. When he pulled you onto his lap, you whispered, "I'm going to have the sweetest baby in the world. I mean look how fucking perfect my husband is."

He cupped your cheek with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Let's go home."

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

Bradley was bursting at the seams with excitement! Dad mode has been activated. Baby Girl seems to be over the morning sickness hump. And pretty soon we'll send Bradley away. I'll post a few more one-shots, and then we dive into a new series! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

796 notes · View notes

forsty · 2 years

Text

top gun maverick AU where everything is the same except Rooster has Fili’s (the hobbit) mustache

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #drunk on the power of being able to create the most stupidest things #i miss fili my beloved #i love filis mustache bUT ITS ALSO THE STUPIDEST THING THOSE METAL THING WOULD BONK HIM IN THE FACE CONSTANTLY

113 notes · View notes

simpforrooster · 9 months

Text

heard it all.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: reader vents to mav and penny about her feelings for a certain mustached fighter pilot. a/n: my take on a request from @kpopgirlbtssvt. i latched on to one part of the request and took off. i hope you still like it!

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the low voice of Maverick pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, continuing on without another thought.

"You've been wiping down that same spot of the bar for ten minutes."

Maverick and Penny, your boss, exchange a knowing glance. You look at the rag in the hand as if seeing it for the first time.

"I think it's plenty clean, y/n," Penny comments, winking at Mav.

Placing a hand on your hip, you stare the two of them down. "What are you two silently saying to one another?"

Penny shrugs a shoulder. "Oh nothing." You can see it in her eyes though. She knows exactly what has your brain all a-mush.

More like who.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

The hot Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

He captured your heart the first day you met him. Sure, his looks were what drew you to him initially. But he was so nice. Like green flags all around.

You shake your head at the two people who have become a pseudo family to you. Tossing the rag onto the counter, a sigh escapes your mouth.

"Y'all just give it up. We're just friends." Your voice breaks on the word friends, and your eyes squeeze shut to hide your embarrassment.

"Come on," Penny starts.

Holding up a hand, you stop her. "Penny, please. It already hurts enough. He's the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met."

Your chest heaves as you breath through your emotions.

"I have never met another man like him. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel beautiful."

Maverick makes a move like he is going to say something, but Penny lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"And as if the silly little age difference isn't enough, he only sees me like a sister." A tear falls along your cheek, surprising you. Of course, you've grieved the non-relationship before. It isn't out of the norm to sob into your wine glass with Phoenix.

It's the first time you've ever cried in front of Penny and Mav.

The sound of a clearing throat has your spinning around.

Rooster looks at you, his brows knit together. You can't read the look on his face, but it can't be good. It tells you everything you need to know.

He heard it all.

And he doesn't feel the same.

Reaching up to sloppily wipe your tears, you tried to step around him, mumbling something so incoherent you can't decipher the words.

Rooster's strong arms reach out and stop you in your tracks.

"I can promise you I do not see you as a sister," he says, his voice low.

Not that you try, but words refuse to come out your mouth. How could they? The way he's staring at you has your heart beating in overdrive.

"Did you really mean all that?" he asks. His eyes roam over your face, searching for something. It takes you a second to realize he looks a little scared.

Scared of being rejected.

Bradley doesn't like you back. There's no way. He's had plenty of opportunities to make a move and hasn't.

He takes one step closer to you, the soles of your shoes meeting.

"Of course, Bradley." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, but he heard it. His hand snakes around your neck and settles into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be madly in love with you?"

A delicious groan escapes from his mouth before he closes the space between you. His lips meet yours and suddenly the Earth moves beneath your feet as the planets snap into alignment.

Bradley's lips are finally on yours, and it feels every bit as right as you imagined.

He pulls back so his mouth is feather light against yours. "Sweetheart, I am wildly in love with you." The words fall on your ears in soft whispers. Your eyes fall closed to relish in the way all this feels.

Bradley brings his mouth back to yours, pulling you tight against him. Your height difference has never been more apparant that right this second.

"Okay, okay, get a room," Maverick calls, followed by a, "Oof," as Penny's arm comes into contact with his solid stomach.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this one! i've been struggling with a little bit of writer's block.

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

1K notes · View notes

spacecaravan · 1 year

Text

Short Stack

pairing: rooster x reader word count: 4.8k 🥞☕🥓

"You're driving me crazy over here, honey," Bradley said with a pout from his spot in your kitchen, whining as he stared at you, your back to his front as you stood at your spot in front of the gas stove.

It was a picturesque Sunday morning, the air was warm and sweet-smelling as the wind floated in from the open window, dainty linen curtains blowing enchanting shapes in the breeze. You had asked Bradley if he wanted to eat breakfast outside today since, as you had put it, it would be such a waste if we didn't.

"Hm?" you hummed in response, resting your cheek on your shoulder as you craned your neck to glance over at the pilot, your hands busy tending to pancakes sizzling away on the stovetop "what'd you say, baby?" finding it a little hard to hear him over the speaker you had playing next to you on the countertop.

"You expect me to just sit over here while you're over there looking like that?" he questioned in an incredulous tone, his legs were wide open, palms splayed over his bare thighs while he watched you, his pajama shorts riding high on the tan skin underneath.

You raised your eyebrows, eyes glinting curiously in his direction before you bent over at the waist to check the bacon crisping up in the oven. Old sweatshirt riding up just enough to drive Bradley wild as you batted your lashes at him, stoking the flames you loved to be warmed by.

"What's that, Bradley?" you said, dimples threatening to break through the coy smile you were trying to hide, "don't you want me to take care of you like I promised?" you teased, reminding Bradley of the moments that had transpired not too long before he was sat sipping coffee in one of his favorite places in the world, your kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning.

"Sleepy girl,"

His favorite way to wake you up on Sundays was to whisper in your ear as he snuck his hand up the front of whatever soft top you happened to fall asleep in. Warm hand reaching for your breasts, but wanting you to be awake before he teased you so he could listen to you react.

"Good morning, baby," he rasped in your ear, his eager fingers ghosting over your bare nipples after he felt you stir, relishing in the pleased little sound you made in the back of your throat in response to his touch, nipples pebbling immediately under the tips of his fingers.

The night before you promised him you'd wake up early and make him a nice breakfast: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, perfectly cooked bacon, coffee the way he likes it — the works — he deserved it, you'd said.

You spent that night cooing in his ear about how he worked so hard on base, pressing wet kisses across his bare chest as you praised him, moaning desperately into the air as he pressed his thumb softly on your clit as you rode him—couldn't stop telling him how desperately you wanted to make him feel good.

"You deserve to feel so fucking good all the time, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, your skin hot and flushed as you fell apart on top of him, "and I'm going to make sure you do. I'm going to treat you so, so good, baby." you moaned into his ear before you felt him filling you up in your favorite way.

So blinking your eyes open, to see your bedroom bathed in the hazy morning glow while Bradley's hard cock pressed firmly against your ass, was not what you needed to have the productive morning you'd promised.

"Bradley," you forced out in your rough morning tone, a warning, at least that's how you intended it to sound.

"Mhm?" Rooster grumbled from behind you, pulling you tighter to his sleep-warmed body as he pushed his wet lips and scratchy mustache into your soft neck. "love hearing you say my name," he mumbled, "lemme hear it again, sweet girl," a tiny kiss pressed into the back of your hairline, "y'smell so good by the way, always do." he said, his tone laced with affection as he inhaled your scent, pressing tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat.

"Bradley," you repeated, placing your hand on top of the one he had resting on your hip, managing to flip yourself so that you were facing him, staring directly into his eyes. "good morning."

You kissed him softly on the lips before taking both of his hands between your bodies and pressing them above your breast, inhaling deeply and letting him feel your heartbeat. Rooster was strong, there was no denying it. But, for all that strength, Bradley was also putty in your hands, made utterly helpless at the site of your eyes on his. His body went completely pliant the moment you locked eyes with him and put your hands anywhere on his body.

"G'morning," he sighed, losing his train of thought in the way the sunlight made your skin glow. Bradley pressed a soft kiss onto your nose as he breathed you in, his chest pressing against your joined hands as he moved closer, tangling your feet beneath the soft blankets.

"Remember what I promised?" you reminded him, taking in his dreamy expression, keenly aware of how shallow his breaths were as he gazed at you, "I gotta start cooking, honey. Wanna treat you to this."

His mouth parts, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he watches you speak. Leans in closer to listen to you whisper sweetly about how you wanted to take care of him.

"Or," he started, mustache quirking slightly as a smirk took over his features, "you stay here," he paused for a moment, his larger hands overlapping yours to bring your knuckles up to his warm lips, "and you let me take care of you — let me make you feel good."

Hearing him say that made your heart pound, made your entire body tingle all over and tempted you to no end. But you wanted, no needed, to do this for Bradley. You had been planning this ever since the last time you cooked for him and he wouldn't shut up about how he loved watching you in the kitchen.

Went on and on about how he was ready to be a stay-at-home anything if it meant getting to watch you act out all the fantasies he held deep inside, close to his heart. Fantasies of domestic bliss, of a life with someone who cares for you, who adores you, and in return, someone to make it all worth giving a shit about.

And as much as you loved taking care of Bradley, you could never get enough of the way he would playfully nudge you away from the sink the moment he saw you starting to wash up after a meal. He always wanted to help, wanted to be involved, wanted to fill you up with the same type of affection you poured into him.

"Excuse me miss," he would start, his hip bumping yours as he came to stand at the sink, "what do you think you're doing over here?" his smile was always infectious at this point, his large hands coming in to pluck the sponge straight from your wet fingers, "go relax, go get comfy. I'll do the rest." and with that final word, he would kiss you into total submission and send you on your way with a tap to your bottom.

"Later," you whispered, "stay in bed. I'll bring you coffee in a bit,"

You freed your hands from his grip and gently brushed your fingers over his cheekbone. He immediately leaned into your soft touch, allowing you to rise easily, his lips forming a pout as he watched you move to exit the bedroom.

"You're torturing me," he said, propping himself up on his palm, elbow digging into the mattress as he shifted, his other palm coming out to reach for you in a desperate final attempt to get you back under the warm sheets.

You couldn't help the grin that blossomed on your face as you basked in Bradley's warm gaze.

"Lucky for you," you started, cheek pressed to the door frame as you watched him, "you're trained to handle tough situations like this. Aren't you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you slipped out before he could give you a response.

Walking down the hall you heard him groan and flop back down onto the mattress, could clearly picture him running his hands over his face and through his sleep-mussed hair as he shook his head with a smile.

And that's how you ended up here, sunshine coming softly through your kitchen window while Bradley sat wide-legged at your breakfast nook. His large body settled into the cushion you and your friends had DIY'd one Friday evening, after two bottles of chilled red wine sat happily in your stomachs and shared laughter lit up the room. It's how you ended up with Bradley practically white-knuckling his mug as he watches you cook and fawn over him, sweetly asking him, "Can I top off your coffee, baby?" while you stroke the back of his neck, backing away before he can get his hands on you.

"Honey," Bradley had moved from his spot, taking a few short strides to stand behind you at the stove. His hands coming to rest on your hips as he drags you back to him, "I can't sit there anymore."

"No?" you question, your gaze on the cast iron skillet on the burner, the final pancake was cooking away on its shiny black surface as you feigned nonchalance. "What's got you so worked up, Bradshaw?"

Once he heard his last name leave your mouth he knew you were teasing him, and god was he ready to tease you right back.

"I don't know," he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, "maybe just a pretty little thing making me breakfast," another kiss below your ear, "my girl taking such good care of me,"

Bradley moves his right hand to take the spatula out of your grip, meeting no resistance as you melt into the heat radiating from his naked chest, getting lost in the words coming out of his mouth as you lean into his onslaught of kisses.

"I'll tell you what's got me worked up, baby."

You feel him inhale deeply behind you, the music playing from the speaker filling up the otherwise quiet room as he deftly flips the pancake on the pan, somehow knowing it was the perfect time to turn it as its golden brown surface shows itself. Soon after his perfect pancake has been flipped, he places the tool down, and using his now free right hand, turns off the stove and the oven, signaling the end of that—kitchen closed.

Every nerve in your body was lighting up now. You could feel the excitement building in your marrow as he stood calmly behind you.

"Turn around, and I'll tell you," he whispers in your ear, "lemme see your pretty eyes."

There was no other option but to listen, no choice but to turn around and stare into his lust-filled eyes.

"So, what is it, Bradshaw?" you practically sigh, turning to him as you try to calm your breathing, willing yourself to fill your lungs slowly before he pushes you over the edge with just his words.

"It's you," his voice still low as his as he reaches his hand up to brush over your lips. The pad of his thumb swipes back and forth gently over your pouted bottom lip, "it's you in this fucking kitchen looking like a dream. It's you saying my name while you pour me coffee," he pauses briefly, "it's that I know you slept in my sweatshirt last night to drive me fucking crazy this morning."

"Am I in trouble, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you say coolly despite the blazing inferno ripping through your entire being, despite his finger still resting on the plush of your lip.

Bradley doesn't answer, simply pushes his thumb past your lips and onto your waiting tongue. He loves the way he can make you mush under his touch. But you never let him have the upper hand for long. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut as you gaze up at him, sucking harshly on the digit and wetting it with your eager tongue. He pulls the finger out of your mouth, hand moving to grip your cheeks in a manner that made your panties flood with wetness. Bradley was practically panting — trying so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to spin you around right here and fuck you against the oven.

“Breakfast is gonna have to wait, pretty girl,” he declares, “should have never let you get out of bed this morning.”

After that it's a blur of warm hands grasping for bare skin, a symphony of moaning into open-mouthed kisses and when Bradley moves his hands down your thighs, pulling in a signal you've come to know well, you jump. His capable hands immediately come to your ass as you wrap your legs around his middle. You're nose to nose with him as he walks you back to the bedroom.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, "gonna make you feel so good."

He's dropping you onto the bed before you know it, towering his body over yours to kiss every inch of skin he can touch. He's pushing up your (his) sweatshirt to reveal the soft skin hidden underneath, stopping to bite and lick your exposed breasts, taking extra care of each nipple as he nips and pinches.

Rooster tosses away the article of clothing, leaving you lying in the morning light in just your underwear. He takes a single step back, leaving you panting on the bed as you stare up at him. He's obviously hard, his pajama shorts tented and hands flexing at his sides as he looks down at the way your almost naked body is being illuminated by the golden light.

"You look too fucking good," he whispers mostly to himself, "god damn."

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands coming to wrap underneath your knees as he drags you to the end of the bed, bringing your covered cunt to his waiting mouth. Rooster immediately presses his nose and lips onto the sodden fabric of your panties, his tongue coming out to taste the wetness soaking the cotton. You could come just from this, just from Bradley Bradshaw breathing into your pussy while he presses his perfect nose against your puffy clit.

"Want me to taste you, honey?" he whispers into your cunt, and you feel like you're burning alive, "cause I wanna taste you real fuckin' bad."

He pulls away from you again, and it really isn't fair that he looks like that right now. His skin is radiant and ethereal, he smells divine and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Before you even have a chance to answer, Rooster is gripping the fabric on your underwear tightly, increasing the friction on your clit. A little tease. Maybe a little mean—or even a little needy.

"Talk to me, baby," he says, fingers still pulling the fabric taut against your dripping center.

"Please, Bradley," you whisper desperately, chest heaving as you look down at him. "Need you," you add, yes because you mean it, but also because you know he loves to hear it.

With that, he is swiftly pulling the soaked panties down your legs, flinging them somewhere to be found later while the two of you laugh and make the bed together.

His palms come back to separate your thighs and you could die. You feel like you're about to plunge into icy cold water—the shock of adrenaline as your body adjusts to the frigid temperature. Warmth overtakes every cell in your body, as you gaze down at him. Bradley is staring directly into your wet pussy with a lust-filled glaze in his pretty eyes. With every inhale and exhale you feel more obscene, more spread open.

"So wet," he observes, his voice deep and gruff "you showin' off for me? Gettin' nice and wet just for me, baby?"

He runs his thumb up and down your slit, taking one pass to tease at your aching clit. His thumb is bringing you a pleasure that is making your back arch off the mattress, it feels like he is taking you apart piece by piece. His face is still so close to your pussy you can feel his breath fanning over you. His warm breath is a sharp contrast to the wetness of your weeping hole.

"Oh, honey," he coos, as he dips his middle finger into your soaked cunt, "bet you were wet this morning too, huh? But my good girl wanted to treat me to a picture-perfect Sunday, didn't she?"

He wants you to answer, you know this.

"Want you so bad, Bradley," you whimper into your palm, having pressed the side of it between your teeth to keep from yelling out, "want you always. Wanna take care of you all the time."

When his mouth finally comes down, it makes you weep, makes you cry out in a tone you've never heard leave your body. His supple mouth and tongue are bringing you so much comfort as they simultaneously send all-encompassing shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You’re bucking into his mouth, unashamed in your want for him, unabashed in the way you spread your wetness over his gorgeous face. You bring your hands away from your fluttering chest and gasping mouth to pull his hair, hard. He moans loudly when you do, making your tummy do backflips as he feasts on your cunt. Breakfast be damned.

"My perfect girl," he whispers against your clit, "tastes so good. Such a sweet pussy."

You groan at his words, reveling in his praise and storing it away to replay at a later time. No one has ever made you feel the way Rooster does, no one has ever been able to make you completely unravel in the way he can.

"Need you, baby," you whine from your spot on the bed, "need to feel you inside me, please. Please, Bradley."

He pulls back enough for you to see his face—lips shining, mustache obscenely wet and it makes you dizzy just to look at him like this. His hands are still gripping your thighs, his touch burning the area his palms are claiming.

"Can't wait for me to finish?" he taunts, mocking you as he smiles into your wet cunt.

That's when you move to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows to get better leverage. Wordlessly you slip back away from him, sliding back on the soft sheets to rest your back flat against the headboard. Creating enough distance between the two of you to keep him out of arms reach, the only touch he could lay on you now is a soft graze to your ankle with his fingertips.

"Come here, Rooster," you say, your sultry tone sounds unfamiliar to you, coated in want and lust, "come and take your pussy, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

A beat passes. You hear him curse under his breath. He's so solid when he comes to stand at the end of the bed. Doesn't take his eyes off yours as he rids himself of his soft shorts. Doesn't make a sound as he palms his erection, stroking the length once, twice, three times before he descends upon you. Once again he's flexing that Navy-earned strength of his to drag your body flush against the mattress. His arms coming to frame your head as he brings his mouth down onto yours, soft and kind, kissing you so sweetly as he leaves the taste of you behind on your tongue.

"You're gonna be the death of me, baby." he moans into your mouth.

"What a way to go," is all you say before you reach down to rub his cock up and down your wet slit, taking extra care to rub his sensitive tip over your clit driving you both wild in the process.

He's gripping your wrist tight, halting your movement on his length. His eyes are half-open as they peer into yours, his bottom lip lodged in between his perfect teeth as he places your hand back on the soft sheets below you.

His plunging inside you so suddenly it pushes all the air out of your lungs. His breath hitches as he settles into the deepest, warmest parts of you—his hands coming up to keep your supple thighs snug around his waist as pleasure rocks through your core. Sometimes he moves so fast you can't keep up, can't keep up with the pillow being shoved under your ass as Bradley strokes deep inside of you.

“Oh, honey,” he moans, “god that pussy is perfect.”

Your skin sizzles at his praise, pleasure is working itself down to the very tips of your toes, making you shiver. You're gasping for breath as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you, eyes falling shut as you chase the pleasure he is eliciting from you. Your pussy is clenching around him, he feels so thick and perfect inside you it makes you want to cry. Your hands are gripping the sheets so hard your fingers are cramping.

"Look at me, pretty baby," he whispers, "let me see my girl."

Your eyes snap open, but your head tilts back with pleasure at his request. You feel so close. You don't know how he gets you teetering over the edge so fast. Maybe it's the husky sound of his voice as he calls you a million different lovely names. Maybe it's the way his tan arms look caging you beneath his body. Or maybe it's the way he gets lost staring in between your bodies.

Rooster is obsessed with the way he looks sliding in and out of you while you cry out underneath him. But he can never look away too long, always needing to see the look in your eyes as he fucks you in a way that makes you whine and beg for him—makes you desperate for him in his favorite way. He never gets tired of the shock on your face when he whispers filthy words into your ear as he touches parts of you no one ever has. And you hope to god that no one but him ever will again.

Did Bradley love seeing you act out his domestic fantasies? Of fucking course. The pilot could hardly keep his hands off you most evenings, barely getting the chance to say hello before he was winded at the sight of you floating around the kitchen. Always humming along to a tune he liked — or at least he liked the sound of it coming sweetly from you — before you noticed he was in the room. You were always stirring this, or chopping that. Asking him to taste this for salt or, like most times, you simply said "sit and relax, Rooster, let me take care of you." like you did this morning. He loved the way you took care of him. You did it without pretense or motive. Just did it because you loved to see him loved. You adored doting on Bradley Bradshaw because you knew he deserved it. You knew how he craved it.

But, for as much as Bradley liked you sweet and delicate in the kitchen, he loved you fucked out and messy more. He went crazy over the way you'd suck his fingers into your mouth while he was fucking you, doing anything just to feel fuller. Loved the way you teased—all half-lidded eyes and parted lips, walking around half-dressed with an innocent smile on your face as you stepped in front of the TV, interrupting whatever college football game he happened to be watching with a simple Hi, Bradshaw. He lived for the chase and would do stupid, dangerous things for the reward.

“Bradley,” you whisper, and it elicits another moan from him, one that is throaty and deep, "Make me cum, please,"

He wants to keep teasing you, wants to make you wait so badly, wants to make you yell out his name desperately as he edges you. But he can't—not this morning—not when you look so, so pretty laid out underneath him, like a fucking angel, he thinks to himself.

"I've got you, pretty honey," he leans down to press his chest into yours, relishing in the feeling of your hard nipples pressed into his heated skin, "don't have to do a thing, sweet girl, just feel how deep that cock is inside you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, Bradley," you whine, crying out at the feeling of his shaft hitting parts of you that hurt so goddamn good. Parts of you that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes, made your toes curl and your heart pound out of your chest.

He's close too, he can never stop talking the closer to release he gets. "That's it, baby, tell me who's making you feel good. Tell me whose cock is gonna make you cum." his words are filthy as he chases his orgasm alongside yours.

You would tell him anything he wanted to hear right now, confess your deepest darkest secrets if he asked.

"It's you, Rooster" you moan. "Always you, only you. No one else can fuck me like you Rooster, please. Please." you plead desperately, you're so close to cumming and it's driving you insane, making your skin tingle all over as you stand over the edge waiting to jump.

Bradley's mind goes blank at your words, he can't do anything but continue to fuck you deeper, soaking in your praise before it shoots straight into his pelvis and grips him tight.

You hold on to him tightly as you cum, holding him as close as possible as you grind against him, body moving instinctually at this point to chase the most pleasure possible, to milk every last ounce of euphoria you can from him.

Bradley's own gratification is close, he knew it was the moment he felt your pussy start pulsing around his cock as you came. He was absolutely basking in every little noise coming from as you came undone underneath him, he loved watching you come apart, loved that he was the one doing it.

"I want it, baby," you preen underneath him, shocking him out of his reverie and snapping his attention to the fucked out expression on your face, "need to feel you cum inside me Bradley, please, baby. Need it so, so bad, honey."

He growls and you know that did it. The deep, raspy noise coming from him as he spills inside you makes you clench down on his shaft, hard. The feeling of your cum soaked pussy clenching around him makes Bradley curse into your ear. Makes him thrust hard into your sensitive hole as he groans out your name.

When you still, the two of you are slick with a fine layer of sweat, bellies moving in tandem as you fight desperately to fill your lungs and steady your heartbeats.

If there's one thing Bradley loves, it's the afterglow. He could lie on top of you with his cock soft inside your velvet walls for hours. Wouldn't move if he didn't have the unfortunate human need for food and water. On rare occasions, Bradley would be so relaxed post-orgasm, he would doze off on your chest, his breath coming out in gentle puffs over your skin as you pet the top of his head, basking in the sight of him bare and malleable underneath you.

"I think breakfast might be a little cold, baby," he says with a smile, gazing up at you with a look you could only describe as smitten.

"Shame," you tut, and your hand grips his hair a little tight, nothing that hurt, nothing that no one but a top naval aviator would notice, a little twitch as you considered what to say next. "can I tell you a secret?" you're grinning now too.

"Spill it," his expression is giddy as he waits for your confession.

"I love doing this with you," you didn't mean to be earnest. You meant to say something witty, something funny.

But you couldn't, honesty pouring out of you like a tub overflowing with water. Like someone had turned on the faucet and walked away.

You see his expression soften before he's rolling the two of you over, his eyes never leaving yours as he brings the both of you to lay on your sides, mirroring the position you were in earlier this morning. Hands gripped tightly between each other, chests moving in tandem as you bring your faces impossibly close together. "Me too, baby," he's smiling so sweetly it's making your stomach fill with butterflies "you have no idea."

2K notes · View notes

desert-fern · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve had Rooster’s eye since he first met you, the only problem? You were in a relationship. But when you come to the Hard Deck newly single, looking to have a good time, your ex reappears. Things get heated, what’s a man to do other than shoot his shot (and maybe throw a few punches)?

Warnings: swearing, cheating (not from our main characters), confrontation about cheating, physical fights (it is a bar fight after all), reader is a quippy little shit. Lmk if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: hey all! Welcome to my second ever Rooster oneshot and my entry for @roosterforme’s Rocktober event! This piece is inspired by Van Halen’s Jump and is my excuse to write a bar fight.

===

Friday nights out with Mason sucked. Well, the drinks were always good at the Hard Deck, the other Navy men who frequented on Fridays were very pleasing to look at, the only shitty thing was, well, Mason. He would ditch you multiple times throughout the night, spending hours chatting with people he saw at work all day while you sat awkwardly in your seat people-watching.

Needless to say, you didn’t like those Friday nights very much. The nights where it was just the two of you were wonderful; you had his undivided attention and it was just easy. Your boyfriend would be all over you, smothering you with affection and it was so unlike the pilot you had come to know.

Mason just became a completely different person when he went out to the Navy bars with you. Maybe it was your fault, you weren’t really the kind of person who liked going out, so you couldn’t really blame him if he ditched you.

That was reasonable right?

Those were your thoughts as you sat at the bar, sipping on your water watching Mason and his group of friends chat with a group of girls. “You doing okay?” A voice next to you asked.

You turned, catching sight of what was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen. Tall with tan skin just the right side of sunburnt, his whiskey coloured eyes were watching you over a pair of aviators perched on the edge of his nose. You swallowed, watching as his biceps moved, straining against the white and yellow printed Hawaiian shirt. “Yeah,” you croaked out, wincing at the sound. “Uh, yes. I’m alright, thanks.”

He smiled at you, his mustache crinkling just a little and you had to take a sip of your drink to try and keep your composure. “Glad to hear it. I’m Bradley, most people around here call me Rooster though.”

“Good to meet you, Bradley,” you replied, smiling back at him. You introduced yourself and couldn’t help but grin when he repeated your name back to you, loving the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Are you here with anyone?”

You nodded, smiling sadly. “I am. My boyfriend is over- well he was over there. I don’t know where he went,” you said after a minute. “But I don’t mind a little conversation.”

Bradley grinned. “Glad to hear it. So, at the risk of sounding like a sleaze, you come here often?” You could hear the humour in his tone and it made you laugh.

“I do, but it’s really not my scene.”

“Not a fan of the Navy?”

You shook your head. “That’s not it, my boyfriend is a pilot for the Navy. I’m just not really one for crowds,” you admitted. Your job as a nurse brought you close to a lot of people and sometimes, all you wanted was just to cuddle up on the couch with Mason and watch a movie. However, your boyfriend was much more of a social butterfly than you were and you often went along with what he wanted for the sake of not arguing.

But Friday nights were ‘for the boys’ so you often got dragged along to the bar whether or not you wanted to go.

“Did you want to step outside? I’d hate for my gorgeous but taken conversation partner to be uncomfortable,” Bradley said, shooting you a sly wink that had warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Does that line often work for you?” You teased, enjoying how his blush grew.

He took a swig of his beer, rolling the bottle between his palms on the bar top before replying. “Wasn’t a line, sweetheart. You’re taken, but I can’t understand how he could so easily leave someone like you sitting all alone.”

You had to bite your lip to stifle the grin that threatened to grow larger the longer you sat chatting with Bradley. A reply was half way out of your mouth when a hand gripped your arm and you heard Mason’s voice next to your head. “Piss off Bradshaw, she’s taken.”

“Maso-” you started, but Bradley took a step back from you. You hadn’t noticed how close the two of you had been, practically sharing the same breath, but now, it was like someone had doused you with ice cold water. “We were just-”

“I don’t care,” your boyfriend growled. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Why?” You demanded. “You fucking ditch me at the bar YOU wanted to go to and expect me to not talk to anyone? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Cannon…” Bradley muttered. “Of fucking course.”

Mason turned to look at you and you had never seen this kind of look in his eyes before. He looked dangerous, a wildness seemed to have taken over his entire being and you were scared. “Don’t embarrass me,” he hissed softly, his grip tightening around your arm.

Bradley must have seen the look of shock in your eyes because he stepped in. “Cannon, man, we were just talking. Let her go.”

Your arm was released and you finally took notice of his dishevelled appearance, a stone plunging your stomach down, down, down. You had known. Smelt the perfume that was not yours, you never wore it because Mason had claimed it gave him a headache. You had turned a blind eye to the random scratches, the strange bruises, even the lipstick on his shirts. You had willingly chosen to push your doubts aside for the sake of living the same boring life you had lived for the better part of two years.

But not anymore.

Pushing your doubt down, you let him lead you out of the bar, making the short trip to your car. You drove in a stony silence, ignoring every criticism Mason threw your way. But you said nothing, at this moment, you weren’t his girlfriend but his DD, and you thought long and hard about what you wanted from your life. If you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t Mason.

You wanted the simple life you had before he’d stumbled into your life with all the grace of a drunk elephant, a fairly apt description for Mason as a person.

He had made it fucking transparent that the last two years were a waste of your time. Mason’s friend, Max or Nuke as he was known to your boyfriend, lived a few blocks away from the bar, it was his house where you dropped him off, all but pushing him out of the car. “Don’t call me,” you snapped, watching his face go from confused to angry. “We’re done. I’m bringing your shit here tomorrow.”

The drive back to your place was strangely quiet. No drunk ranting, no criticising your shyness in the bar, none of that. It was like you pulled the bag off your head, unknowing that it was suffocating you and now you were finally breathing fresh air again. You thought back to Bradley, his strong arms, the ease with which he’d carried himself and the pink hue of his cheeks when you’d teased him back.

He was different.

And maybe you deserved different, but maybe that was your newly-single brain getting ahead of itself. All you knew is that your heart felt lighter as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, it was freeing and constricting all at once.

Inside, you ignored your phone buzzing incessantly. You plugged your phone in, ignoring the flash of angry messages that appeared as quickly as you could blink. You groaned, watching as Mason’s name popped up on your phone, this time calling you, but it disappeared just as fast, clearly he hadn’t meant to call you. It took less than 10 seconds for you to power your phone off, the screen going black as your eyes finally gained a reprieve from the onslaught of angry, hateful messages directed at you.

Mason could sober up before you had any type of conversation with him, not that you would be doing so for a long time, but still. He ran a short fuse, blowing up so quickly over the smallest things. You figured you were saving yourself the headache of not engaging, so you began to grab his things, throwing them in a pile in the living room.

Somewhere between cleaning out his clothes and throwing his knick knacks into the living room, you felt a tear run down your cheek. “He doesn’t deserve these tears,” you muttered angrily, swiping them away. “He didn’t deserve you.”

===

A few months later, you let your friend and coworker bully you into going out with her. You had often told Blair about your people watching at the Navy Bar and it had only taken one mention of it from you and she had been obsessed with the idea.

Now that you were single, for a whole three months, as Blair had ever so helpfully pointed out, she had decided that it was time for you to get back out there.

So here she was standing in your bedroom, clothing scattered around her as she pulled shirt after dress out of your closet. “Why have I never seen any of these before?! This shirt would look so hot on you!”

Shaking your head, you had to say that you didn’t know. “I just never felt comfortable wearing it around Mason’s friends and-”

“And you two never went out without at least one of his douchey friends.” Blair finished for you, giving you a look. “I swear, hon, his cock must have been huge for you to put up with his BS for as long as you did.”

You snorted. “That’s the sad part…”

“No! He was a fuckhead who cheated, a selfish bastard, and he had a micropeen?!” Blair exclaimed, whirling around to look at you. “Why were you with him to begin with? And don’t say that he was different when you first met. Mason wasn’t smart enough to hide all of that.”

The room was silent for a beat before the both of you burst into laughter. “I don’t even know why I said yes when he asked me out!”

“Girl! Me neither!”

You’d doubled over, clutching at your stomach as you laughed. It had morphed into a cackle of a sound, filling the room with raucous noise that had Blair laughing harder.

Tears streamed down your faces as you both tried your hardest to calm your breathing. “Here,” Blair said breathlessly. “Wear this.” She threw a pair of tight, high waisted blue denim shorts at you, a pair that you had bought once and quickly forgot about. Which was a shame, because these shorts in particular had two star-shaped cutouts filled in with red fabric on the ass.

You paled a little, thinking about what would happen if Mason had seen these shorts. “You broke up with him,” the little voice in your head chided. “Who gives a shit what Mason would’ve thought. You’d look hot.” So you grabbed them and a black tank top, changing quickly before Blair wrangled you into getting your makeup done.

The little voice in your head had been right, you did look hot. You could feel eyes on you from the moment you and Blair walked into the Hard Deck and while you wanted to run and hide, the thought of proving Mason wrong kept you motivated to at least have some semblance of fun. And that’s exactly what you did. You found yourself chatting up at the bar with another aviator who’d introduced himself as Fanboy. “You look familiar,” he’d said when he came up to the bar to buy another round for his group in the back of the room.

“She used to come here with her ex-boyfriend,” Blair chimed in, shooting you a wink before she slipped away to join the crowd around what looked like an intense darts game.

Fanboy - Mickey - had paused a little at her words before turning back to you. He’d asked you about your job, seeming very interested when you took the time to explain what you did. It was one of the best conversations you’d had in a while, both parties very interested in what the other had to say.

You didn’t know how long you’d been chatting when a dark haired woman in jeans and a plain t-shirt appeared by Mickey’s side. “So this is where our drinks went,” she teased, watching you both flush. “Why don’t you invite her over to the table, that way Jake stops whining about a pretty redhead picking Javy over him.”

He turned back to you. “Did you want to come hang with the rest of the group?” You must have hesitated because he quickly backtracked. “Or I can go run these over to them and I’ll come back.”

“No, it’s fine. Lead the way,” you told him, grabbing your drink. “Who picked this song?” You mumbled under your breath, wrinkling your nose at the Motley Crüe song blaring out of the juke box set against the side of the bar.

The woman snorted. “That would be Jake. Tall, blonde, dumb as he is tall. I’m sure you know the type.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded. “Though if he’s a pilot like most of the people here, he can’t be that dumb.”

“Only when it comes to emotions.”

Ahh. One of those. You wove through the crowd, dodging groups of college aged girls all trying their hand at snaring a Navy man for a night.

Mickey stopped, dropping the drinks on a table nearby. “Finally! What took you so long, Nerd-Boy?” A tall Black man chided teasingly.

“Shut it, Lay-Back,” Mickey quipped back and you had to bite your cheek to hide your laugh at the banter that erupted on your arrival. “I was preoccupied.”

The woman behind you snagged a beer and flopped onto a stool near the edge of the pool table. “Guys come on. If you keep this up, he’ll never be post-occupied.”

“Nix c’mon!”

“That was awful.”

You watched their joking with interest, keen on figuring out their dynamic. No one seemed to act better than anyone else, namely the pilots who you learned were Phoenix, Payback, Coyote (or Javy to Blair who was leaning against his chest), and then Hangman AKA the ‘dumb as he is tall’ Jake. It was refreshing to see a group of people who had the same job as Nathan and his asshole friends, but who were the most welcoming people you’d met in a while.

“So,” Payback said, turning the conversation away from that morning’s hop. “What possessed you to follow Fanboy of all people?”

You swallowed harshly, feeling their attention turn to you. “He actually asked me questions about myself rather than try and slide into my shorts for a night.”

A few “ooohs” rose out of the crowd, the pilots around you chuckling at how quickly you’d lambasted Payback for his bad question. You just shrugged and took a sip of your drink, ignoring the little whoop Blair had let out.

“Well, well, well,” Jake suddenly said, smirking at something behind you. “Looks like Birdbrain finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

You turned and nearly gasped. The man behind you gave you a crooked smile before replying. “I was a little busy.”

“Rooster,” you breathed, finding yourself suddenly very shy. He looked the same as he did the night you had met, maybe better because now you were single, but regardless. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He was watching you closely, brown eyes flicking back and forth over you as you averted your eyes. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything okay?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes and promptly feeling your face turn a brilliant red under his gaze. “Yeah uh… I’ve been busy at work.”

Bradley moved to stand beside you, grabbing the lone bottle on the counter and taking a swig. “You’re a nurse, right? Long shifts?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at Blair who was making a kissy face in your direction. “Just had a lot on my mind lately, plus crowds…”

“...aren’t your thing,” he finished for you, laughing at your reaction to the woman under Javy’s arm.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, your mouth falling agape at his words. “You remembered.”

“That I did, sweetheart.”

A flush spread up your neck. Somehow it had been easier to flirt when you weren’t single and now you felt like a goldfish that someone had plucked out of the water. Completely out of your element and you felt like dying at your uncertainty. “Lucky me,” you breathed, sipping your drink. “A man like you remembering little ole me? That never happens.”

“How could I not, sweetheart?” The grin on Bradley’s face sent butterflies racing through your stomach, the charm just radiating off of him. “You made quite the impression.”

You gave him a flat look. “My social awkwardness was enough to catch your eye? Nice try, Bradley, but I’m not buying it,” you replied teasingly, watching his eyes light up. “That poor attempt at a line doesn’t work on me anyways.”

“Who said it was a line?”

A loud smacking noise had you and Bradley jolting away from one another, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that there were other people in the room besides the two of you. “Finally!” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “There are other people here besides you two, ya know.”

“Sorry…”

“Sorry Nix. Couldn’t help myself,” Bradley said, sheepishly. A hand came up to tuck his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt and you couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t changed from your memory. Still kind, still handsome as all hell, still dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt. This one had white and orangey coloured flowers against a creamy light yellow fabric. But it was him and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since you’d met.

Despite that, you let yourself get dragged into a game of pool, pairing up with Phoenix against Bob and Mickey. You hadn’t played in a long time, so you weren’t great, but everyone else was sort of around your skill level so it wound up being more fun than you’d thought. “Okay, so after that show of mediocrity, anything will look good,” Hangman said loudly, clapping his hands and snatching a pool cue off the wall.

“Just means that we set the average. If you lose, you’ll land among us,” you snarked back, grinning widely at him. “No pressure.”

A hand on your lower back startled you and you spun around only to come face to chest with Bradley’s sunglasses. “Hear that? You got a lot riding on this one, Bagman,” he jeered over your head, shooting you a wink after. “You wanna take him on with me?”

“I’m not…”

“It’s just for fun, sweetheart. No pressure at all.”

“Sure. Why not?”

And you were off. Round and round the table you went, watching Jake and Bradley duke it out over the velvety table. But when it finally came time for your turn, you had to lean over the table far more than you had initially wanted, giving the pilots and Bradley behind you a good look at your ass in those shorts. You could feel his gaze on the red stars neatly framing your hips in the colour, and you preened a little.

A solid hit with your cue, you stood up, watching the white ball shoot towards a purpley coloured one and send it careening into the pocket. “Yes!” you whooped, jumping up in your excitement, bumping into Bradley behind you. “Oops.”

“All good sweetheart. No harm done,” the lazy smile on his face had your knees buckling and you quickly grabbed the pool table, using it to steady yourself. “Besides, I’m tougher than I look.”

You laughed, the sound mixing with the general din of the bar and you watched as Bradley’s eyes filled with the same mirth that was bubbling inside of you. “Self-burns are rare to witness,” you teased, grinning wider at the look that skittered across his face.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

He groaned jokingly, his lips twisting into a devilish smile that sent heat racing down your spine to pool between your thighs. “Damn it. I was hoping to play it cool.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when Jake started complaining about the pair of you taking too long and Bradley stepped up to play his turn. You watched the two of them keep at it, playing as though neither you nor Mickey were there. “I’m going to grab another drink, did you want anything?” you asked, setting your cue against the wall.

“Nah, I’m good. Before you go, I’m guessing you’re more into him than me?” Mickey saw the surprise cascade over your face. “It’s okay! I just want to know if I should get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry Mickey, that really wasn’t fair to you at all,” you apologized. “I do have another friend that I think would be perfect for you, but I am sorry for wasting your night.”

“Hey. It’s fine. Seriously,” he added when catching your unconvinced look. “I still won. Rooster finally shut up about the pretty girl he met a while back that was dating this douche we have to work with. You did us all a favour.” Mickey gave you a kind smile, before turning back to the game and leaving you standing in shock at how calmly he’d handled the rejection.

But you didn’t dwell on it long. You needed another drink; the first one long gone by now. Penny had just handed it over when a voice from behind you caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. “So this is where I find you, you fucking cunt.”

Only one voice sounded like that and it belonged to your ex.

Fucking Mason.

You groaned, turning around with your new drink in hand. “Can I help you?” A few of the people next to you, two men and a woman dressed in civvies, dropped their own conversation, listening intently on the drama that was sure to unfold. “I was fairly certain I told you not to contact me in any way.”

“You fucking abandoned me at Nuke’s place! Didn’t even have the courtesy to call him!” Mason growled, stepping closer to you. “I had to explain what happened like a fucking loser!” You could smell the alcohol on him. He reeked of it, his sweater wafting vodka-flavoured fumes in your direction each time he moved. Biting your tongue, you shifted in place, keeping your body close to the bar and watching for Nuke or another of Mason’s cronies to make an appearance.

Normally by now, you’d be trying to placate him, telling him not to make a scene and to lower his tone. Tonight however, you couldn’t find it within you to care. If he yelled and threw a tantrum, that was on him, not you. “How is any of that my problem, Mason? You cheated, and had been doing so for months as I later learned. You literally fucked around and found out.”

Mason’s face turned a shade of purple you’d never seen before. There was madness in his eyes and you finally learned why they had called him ‘Cannon’. He was unstable, quick to anger, and once set off, nothing could be taken back. “How can you be so unaffected?! I was the best thing that ever happened to you! No one loved you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be the same ugly bitch I met two years ago.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mason,” you told him calmly. You had no idea if the whole bar had gone quiet; all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat thrumming like a butterfly’s wings. “You were a stepping stone to who I really am. If I meant so little to you, then why not love me and leave me like you did to all those girls you had in between?”

You paused, drawing in a sharp breath and trying to ground yourself in the moment. Trying to force yourself to pause, to centre yourself. “I’ll tell you why. It was never me who needed you. You needed me.” Taking a step forwards, you forced your eyes to meet his own, taking stock of the wildness that raged unhindered in the deep blue of his irises. “Your game wasn’t fun unless I had no idea. You needed me to make you feel good about yourself. By all means, live in your delusion, but let’s not kid ourselves and say that this break up was my fault.”

Mason let out an unintelligible noise, his hand flying out and slapping you. The sound echoed through the room, snapping your head to the side. “You whore!”

It took you not even ten seconds to right yourself and punch him back, your fist slamming into his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood stained your knuckles and you watched his face contort in pain as his nose began to bleed and he let out a shout of pain. “If anyone’s the whore it’s you, Mason. You got laid more times by women other than me so often your body count is higher than a fucking motel bed.”

He lunged for you, anger staining his face a brilliant scarlet that matched your shorts, but was blocked by one of the men who had been standing next to you. Mason’s fist thudded against this man’s arm, shock evident on his face.

A few seconds passed. No one moved. Mason was still held by this other man, who was both taller and wider than him. You stood against the bar watching it all slowly tick down. “5, 4, 3,” you thought to yourself, noticing how some of the men in the room looked twitchy. “2, 1.”

Just as the opening notes of Van Halen’s Jump blared through the jukebox, the man holding Mason swung, clipping him in the jaw and sending him sprawling back into another man, who spilled his drink all over himself. He whirled around, shoving your ex away and yelling at him.

Shouts erupted, fists began flying as the bar dissolved into complete chaos as small fights broke out. People jumped out of the way and you heard a few glasses smash against the floor. You heard Jake’s loud “What the fuck?!” over the din as he waded through the fight, dodging a rogue fist that went for his stomach.

The Navy personnel were trying to stay out of it. The Daggers at the back were standing in barely concealed shock as a girl shrieked like a banshee and came running at you. She grabbed your hair, yanking you away from the bar with a surprisingly strong grip. “Fuck you!” You yelled as you kicked a leg out to trip her.

She fell, hauling you to the ground with her. You landed on top of her, prying your hair from her fist, feeling some strands get ripped out as you tried to stand up. Wrenching yourself from her grasp, you backed up, tucking yourself against the bar once again. You saw Mason get shoved back from a group of men, his hands coming up to swing at his attacker, but fail and get punched in the face for his trouble.

Rooster saw the red flash of your shorts through a hole in the crowd and immediately pushed his way through the people, ignoring Phoenix’s hand trying to hold him back. He couldn’t see you anymore; he saw Cannon swinging wildly nearby and his heart sank, praying that it wasn’t you.

It wasn’t. Thankfully.

His focus was diverted when a punch went wide, slamming into his mid-back and making him stumble forwards a step. Bradley whirled around, glowering at the man, a young pilot on base, until he raised his hands in surrender. “Go home,” he snapped, watching the younger man blink in what looked like fear before backing up against the wall and staying out of the way.

Bradley pushed his way over to where he last saw you, but found nothing. You had vanished and the bodies thudding into one another, smashing glasses, and shouts did nothing to help him find you. He was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, but unfortunately it gave him no advantage in trying to find you. Half the girls in the bar were dressed like you and unless he could see your face or your ass, he would come up empty every time.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screeched loudly, slamming your hand against a man’s throat when he groped you. He started wheezing, anger in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, still advancing on you all the while.

A hand grabbed the man’s shoulder and you caught a glimpse of Rooster’s mustached face over his shoulder. “Get lost.”

The man in front of you turned around, eyes widening a little when he saw Bradley behind him. “I was just-”

“I don’t care what you were doing.” The chill in Rooster’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you could see that the man in front of you was scared shitless. “She told you to fuck off.”

Under Bradley’s firm gaze, the other man ducked his head and hurried off into the crowd, tossing a half-hearted apology your way. “What the fuck happened?”

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly shut it having seen Mason run up behind him, a beer glass in hand. “Behind you!”

He turned quickly, catching a glimpse of Mason who froze in his tracks. You couldn’t see what happened next, but you did see Bradley’s head snap to the side and next thing you knew Mason hit the floor with a crash. “Fucking coward. Starting a bar fight because you cheated on your girlfriend and she called you out.”

He crouched down, mouth close to Mason’s face and hissed out “You’re fucking lucky that there’s witnesses and that your ex-girlfriend is watching this whole thing, otherwise I’d make sure you looked as small as you made her feel.”

Unable to watch more of this, you stepped forwards, letting your hand fall on his shoulder. Bradley’s head turned, his eyes softening as he took you in. “He’s not worth it,” you mumbled, barely audible over the noise in the bar. “Let Penny ring the bell and let him get his ass beat tomorrow in training.”

Bradley stood, towering over Mason before kicking his leg and turning to pull you into his arms. “You okay?”

“Ish… my cheek hurts. Fucker got me good.” You cast a look over his face, smoothing your thumb over his jaw, prodding gently at the red mark that had started blooming from Mason’s fist. “Are you okay?”

“Fine now.” He brushed your concern off, a small smile beginning to form as he saw the concern in your eyes. Even after a bar fight that you had inadvertently started, you were still concerned for him. You had faced your ex head on and he’d laid his hands on you. Sure you’d hit him back, but he’d still drawn blood when your teeth had smacked against your lip.

But here you were, in his arms, asking him to follow your finger so you knew that he really was okay. Cannon hadn’t deserved you and Bradley had thought of no one but you since you’d agreed to chat with him that one night months ago.

“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” he finally said, catching your hand in his own. “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Your heart stuttered from its steady pace. The sincerity in his brown eyes gave you pause because you couldn’t believe that this man, another Navy pilot, could be so different from your ex. “I know,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I nearly had to call an ambulance because my fuckhead of an ex tried to knock you out.”

Bradley snorted, shaking his head at your scathing words. “I liked ‘fuckhead’ better than Cannon anyways.”

“Seriously? That’s what you took away from this?”

He shot you a lopsided grin, the end of his mustache tilting a little with the expression. “I’m pretty sure I got you in all of this, sweetheart. Best prize I ever won.”

“Who says you won me?” You shot back, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break free under the teasing look Bradley was giving you. You had found yourself doing that all night, every comment, each passing look you’d been given had filled you up with giddiness.

“I do, if you’ll have me, that is.” A hand brushed hair over your ear and you couldn’t contain the shiver that the gesture elicited. “If not, then I hope you let me try and win you over.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that erupted at his words. The bar fight continued in small pockets around the room, but right now with Bradley’s hand resting just above the swell of your ass as you curled into his side, you found a peace you didn’t know you needed.

Looking up, you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “All good things require a leap of faith, right?” He nodded, smiling down at you. “Might as well jump if you’re there to catch me.”

===

A/N: So there we have it! Rocktober is checked off my WIP list now! Now to make sure I don’t start anything new 😂 Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for punching the shit out of my imposter syndrome and being the best beta-reader a girl could ask for!

Tagging: @roosterforme @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @sarahsmi13s @cherrycola27 @multifandomlover4life @horseshoegirl @bobgasm @thedroneranger @beyondthesefourwalls @dcyllom

Like this and want to be tagged? Join my taglist!

#fern writes #top gun rocktober #rocktober #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

690 notes · View notes