#bradley bradshaw x jake!best friend
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“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
summary — Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw certainly has something someone to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.
warnings/tags — mild swearing, some suggestive content, female reader, use of she/her, Bradley missing his parents, switching between 2nd and 3rd person but you get both povs? Bradley being absolutely speechless and momma Seresin being an icon but that isn’t really warning.
note — wanted to write something for a while and I had this idea in my drafts and figured why not. I haven’t written for tg:m before so I hope I did them justice and you guys like it enough to read some more.
word count — 1.2k words
Texas hadn’t exactly been a planned trip but here they all were at the Seresin ranch in Austin, Texas.
You could say that it had been the Daggers’ fault for unintentionally parading in on one of Jake’s phone calls to his mum but they’d all claim that it was a combination of Jake bragging about his home town and Bradley retelling his sob story to Jake’s mother, who she insisted he call her by her first name, and then invited them all to the Seresin ranch for Thanksgiving.
They’d managed to get a couple days leave and decided to forgo the 15 hour drive down and take a flight there instead, choosing to get there in one piece with as few arguments as possible than the ones they would’ve had if they’d chosen to go with the road trip option.
When they’d arrived at the airport, Jake’s oldest sister and her husband picked them up in two cars and drove them down to the ranch. Bradley could easily see why Jake had been right to brag about his home, not that he would ever tell him, but it really did feel like home.
The Dagger squad talked for hours that night, finding themselves huddled together on the front porch, staring at the stars. It had been a beautiful night, filled with laughter and mischief, but also with something warm and comforting that made Bradley’s heart ache.
He’d been unusually quiet that night but the group knew better than to push it, Jake included with a threat from his mother, but it hadn’t been from what they’d expected. Jake’s mum had brought Bradley aside when they were all busy with the rest of the family and had a talk with him, one filled with a motherly love that accepted him into the family and promises that he could come by anytime or call her up whenever he’d like. The comforting hug after, as she reached up to wipe his tears, made him smile as he whispered up to the stars later that night, a thank you to his mum and dad.
The next day had been filled with the typical Seresin chaos that you’d expect with a single mother, three daughters, their partners and children, and the one and only, Jacob Thomas Seresin. Plus the Dagger Squad. Then someone mentioned line dancing and Jake’s elusive childhood best friend (Javy was extremely offended) and they’d subsequently made plans that night to visit the local bar that Jake promised they’d all love.
Never, and Bradley means never, let Hangman choose your outfit. That boy is picky as hell and a force to be reckoned with once he’s connected to his Southern routes. Shame that Bradley’s much more stubborn or you would’ve seen him decked out in a similar outfit to Jake’s right down to the bolo tie.
“Jacob Thomas Seresin!” Heads turned towards the woman walking towards them, an empty serving tray in one hand, the other resting on her hip as she looked up at the blonde raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t think to give me a heads up before you walked into my bar?” She leaned behind him to place the tray on the bar before resuming her stance, cracking a smile once Hangman did and wrapping him in a warm hug.
Introductions were made with Jake using your full name, which you hit him lightly on the arm for, Bradley practically speechless, almost drooling, since you first walked towards them.
He was cute, fucking gorgeous if you were being honest, and if he was the Bradley you’d heard so much about from Jake and his mother, then the idea that just sparked in your mind would be more than just a good idea. So, you took your Setson off your head and placed it on his with a wink.
Sadly, you still had a job to do, and with the blooming bar, you needed all hands on deck, so you walked off, not without a mischievous glint in your eye or an extra sway of your hips for the brunette in the floral Hawaiian shirt who had caught your eye. You turned around for a brief second to see Bradley transfixed and Jake shaking his head at you, as you gave your best friend a wink and sauntered off.
The Dagger squad, minus Bob and Javy, looked between Jake and the hat on Bradley’s head in confusion, the former shaking his head with a smile on his face. Jake wasn’t the least bit surprised, he knew you down to a T, just as you knew him. Bob and Javy on the other hand tried and failed to suppress their laughter, especially as Bob launched into an explanation at what it meant seeing as Jake was clearly too amused and entertained to do it himself.
Bradley, well… Bradley had short circuited to say the least. He could barely register the pats on his back or squad’s laughter under the weight of the cowboy hat on his head, your hat on his head. Fuck, he was whipped and he didn’t even know you. Not yet.
The crowd had begun to filter out the later it got, and by the time you got off your shift, the bar definitely wasn’t bursting at the seams anymore but still somehow just as lively. As you contemplated grabbing yourself a beer, you felt a presence behind you, causing you to turn around to see the cute brunette wearing your hat. His palm was placed gently, face up towards you as he asked you for a dance, not forgetting to add a ‘sweetheart’ at the end.
Bradley can dance, he knows that, the whole squad knows that, anyone who knows him knows that. But the way your body feels next to his has him forgetting the steps he learned just moments ago. Or at least, that was until you leaned up at starting singing along to the lyrics in his ear, gently guiding him along, something that he’d expected to cause him to stumble even more but surprisingly got him to relax. Bradley Bradshaw was putty in your hands and you knew it. You however, didn’t know that you’d be melting in his, not until he began singing back to you, his lips just grazing your ear. That’s when it turned into a little more than dancing, with a little less talking.
With you body pressed against his, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as you adjust your Stetson on his head, you whisper a question in his ear. Bradley placed a kiss to your collarbone and another beneath your ear before pulling away and grabbing your hand, leading you to the exit.
The squad burst into cheers as you both approached the door, the pair of you hazarding a glance back at the group and a wink towards Jake who raised his glass in acknowledgment with a smile on his face. He knew you were perfect for each other, not that he’d ever admit that, but he knew. For now, he refused to acknowledge what would happen when you both left the bar, nose crinkling at the reminder of the rule.
#drew writes!#tg:m#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#he’s whipped your honour!#jake hangman seresin#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw x jake!best friend#rooster x you#<3
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Habits of My Heart
warnings: fluff, Jake being soft, childhood best friends to lovers, she/her pronouns used, not proofread, Jake is probably a little ooc sorry, I’m not really good at writing fluff so I hope this isn’t too cheesy
summary: you haven’t seen Jake in months due to his busy schedule, but after he returns from his top-secret TOPGUN mission, you decide to hop on the next flight to Fighter Town, USA.
author’s note: back with some Jake fluff because I’ve written enough angst for him lately and he deserves happiness
update: part 2 is out now! You can read ‘Into Your Arms’ here
You hadn’t talked to Jake for longer than a minute each time he called in the past six weeks. This was nothing new; every time he deployed, your chats were painfully short. By the time you answered the phone, you had enough time to say a quick, ‘hi, how are you?’ and then a ‘be safe, tex’ before the line died and you both went back to your busy lives.
It was difficult, but you were used to it by now. Besides, you two didn’t need to speak every day anyways. You had been friends since kindergarten– having been pushed together by your mothers who had also been childhood friends. At first you had loathed him, but as you both grew, you learned to love him.
You had even held a little crush on him for a few years during high school. Who wouldn’t? He was the star football player with a dazzling smile and a flirtatious tongue. He had all the girls at school drooling over him, you included.
But nothing ever came of it, you were sure of that. You’d rather run into oncoming traffic than admit to Jake Seresin that you liked him. He would never stop teasing you about it, and besides– it’s not like he liked you back, right?
By the time you two were seniors in high school, you’d forgotten all about your crush. Especially after you walked into the girl’s bathroom during prom and interrupted Jake and some cheerleader’s intense make-out session on the bathroom counter. Yeah, that was enough to knock some sense back into your head.
Then you went to college and Jake enlisted. You saw each other less and less– and maybe everyone in the world was right when they said “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” because a day could not go by without you wishing to see Jake’s stupid little grin.
You talked on the phone and occasionally FaceTimed. He surprised you at your college graduation– but after he finished his training and started flying for real, it was rare you saw him. So, that’s how you found yourself here, at some bar in Fighter Town that his mom told you he frequented (how the hell did she know that?).
You hadn’t told him you were coming. He basically just got back to the states himself– he sent you a text while you were on your flight confirming that and telling you’d he talk to you tomorrow– that he was going to get some post-we-almost-died-drinks with his friends.
You couldn’t think of any better way for him to spend his night.
The Hard Deck definitely looked like a place Jake would frequent as you walked through sand to reach its doors. You could see through the windows how crowded it was, and you could hear the abundance of voices inside from the parking lot. Definitely his scene.
You pushed through the glass doors and were instantly swept into the sea of people. You saw many dressed in service khakis, which you silently cursed as it made it harder to clearly spot Jake.
The crowd pushed you up to the bar, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel nervous– why? You didn’t know. He was your longest friend and you were feeling nervous over seeing him again. You almost wanted to laugh if you didn’t think you’d vomit the moment you opened your mouth.
“You okay, sweetie?” A woman’s voice cut over the roar in the room, her kind eyes locking onto yours as she leaned slightly over the bar.
You nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Just fine, thanks.”
“First time here?” She replied, a small smile forming on her mouth.
You nodded, and before you could even speak, she was sliding you a beer.
“It’s on the house. And you’ll get used to the crowd,” she smiled and nodded before disappearing to tend to other customers.
You silently thanked her kindness and took a long swig of your beer, hoping it would give you some liquid courage.
Maybe you were so nervous because you hadn’t seen him in so long. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d talked in person, face-to-face. Maybe last year? You had certainly changed since then, and you knew he had, too.
“You’ve literally been his friend since he was still a bed-wetter,” you muttered to yourself, standing on your tip toes as your eyes scanned the busy bar.
You spotted him in the back by the pool tables. He had his back turned to you, but you’d recognize that blond hair and posture anywhere. Nerves forgotten, you quickly finished your beer and begun to weave through the crowd, hoping he wouldn’t turn around.
As luck would have it, he stayed planted to the spot you’d first saw him in as you finally made it to his little group. Unsurprisingly, they were all in service khakis. They’d probably been on assignment with him.
No one saw you as you crept up behind him. He was lost in thought as he studied the pool table, which gave you the chance to really surprise him.
“Hey pilot, can we go for a ride in your jet?” You tried to get the cheesy line out seriously, but couldn’t help but let a little snort escape as he turned around, face smug and a suggestive reply already leaving his mouth before his eyes landed on you.
“What the fuck?” His eyes widened as he took you in, looking you up and down.
“Surprise!” You threw up some jazz hands as you grinned at him.
He engulfed you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly and lifting you from the ground as he swung you around. You laughed, clinging on to him. By now, his friends had noticed the two of you, but you paid them no mind as Jake set you back on solid ground.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He said, pulling you to the side.
“That’s kinda the point of a surprise, Tex,” you teased. You couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t either.
“You look good. It’s been, what, a year since we saw each other?”
“Too long,” you replied. Now it was your turn to look him up and down. He definitely looked good.
“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”
You scoffed, playfully pushing his chest. “Oh, you know whose it is. I’m not the one leaving the country on top-secret missions at the drop of a hat.”
“It makes me mysterious. Ladies love the mystery.”
“Do they?” You laughed, leaning slightly into him. God, you had missed him. Hearing his laugh through the phone could not compare to hearing it right in front of you.
“They do. You should know. You’re madly in love with me.”
You rolled your eyes, your heart rate spiking the tiniest bit at the thought of being found out– but you knew he was teasing. He always teased like this.
“If anything, you’re the one madly in love with me. All the navy groupies in this bar and you’re over here talking to me. Gotta mean somethin’.”
His smile was blinding as he wrapped and arm around your shoulders, pulling you sideways into his chest.
“You’re my favorite navy groupie.”
“I’ll let that comment slide because I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face.”
He laughed as he steered you back towards the pool table. His friends had all been watching the two of you, but as you approached they tried– and failed– to act as if they hadn’t.
“And who’s this?” A man piped up as he looked you up and down from across the pool table.
“This, everyone, is the biggest pain in my ass that’s been there since kindergarten.”
You raised a hand in a wave, rolling your eyes at Jake’s words. “What he means is that I’m the better half of the duo.”
The only woman of the group looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her mouth was agape as she studied you and Jake.
“We all thought Hangman was making you up!”
“You thought Hangman was making her up,” a man with a mustache and aviators replied smugly, leaning in closer to the woman. “You owe me $20, Phoenix.”
Phoenix grumbled to herself as she begrudgingly took out her wallet and passed a $20 to the man. He tipped an imaginary hat at her and laughed. She punched him in the arm.
“I am definitely not made up, and I am definitely ready to embarrass Jake. Who wants to know what?” You smiled slyly as the group erupted into chaos; Jake’s shouts for them to ignore you going unheard as the group pulled you in.
—
Jake finally pulled you away from the others hours later, claiming he’d been embarrassed enough for one night and that he had a reputation to uphold.
You had made sure to get every one of his friend’s numbers before leaving, just incase you felt like embarrassing him some more.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence as you made your way to his truck. You had taken a taxi from your hotel, so it worked out.
He opened the passenger door for you and you rolled your eyes as you hopped into the vehicle. He slid into the driver’s seat a second later, but made no move to start the car.
“You okay, Tex?” You asked, worried. He was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Just thinking about all the ways I can get you back for tonight,” he told you, his gaze containing a hint of mischief.
“Can it wait until I’m back in Texas?” You pleaded, to which he shook his head.
“Nope, absolutely not.”
You groaned and he grinned.
“You’re evil,” you told him.
“I’ve been called worse.” He shrugged.
You both fell silent for a minute.
“I didn’t think you were gonna make it back this time. Your mom was telling me what little she knew, but it wasn’t a lot, and I was worried.” You looked down at your hands in your lap as you spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? All I knew was that you were overseas.”
“I was trying to get you to not worry,” he chuckled.
“I always worry about you, idiot. You’re reckless and headstrong. You’re always finding trouble.”
He didn’t respond for a beat. Then:
“Would it make you stop worrying to hear that I’m coming home for a bit?”
“You’re full of shit,” you instantly replied. You hadn’t known him to ever take time off from his job. He loved being a pilot; he loved the navy, and he was incredibly dedicated to his work. It was one of the things you admired about him, but also secretly wished were different about him.
“I’m serious. I don’t know how long, at least a month– but I’m coming home. It’s been too long.”
You sat in silence, multiple emotions washing over you all at once. You knew something serious had to have happened for Jake to be taking a step back, and you were scared as to what that was. As far as you knew, none of his fellow aviators had died, but what if he or they had come close to it?
He knew the risk of getting up in the air, they all did. It was part of the job. But you had never seen him so hesitant to go back to work, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
You took a deep breath and nodded. You could unpack this baggage later– if he’d ever let his walls down and talk to you about it. Now, you were just glad to have him back.
“You still look worried,” he teased.
“Shut up.”
“I think it’s cute.”
“Oh, I’m cute?” You grinned against your will.
“The cutest,” he replied.
“You say that to all the girls.”
“No,” he said. “Just you.”
Silence filled the air once more. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out his angle. Jake always teased– it was his nature. He was the annoying guy best friend who said things to try and get you to blush. Then he’d make fun of you for blushing.
“I haven’t missed your teasing, Tex,” you finally said.
“I do love to tease you,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. “But I’m not right now.”
“Did you hit your head or something?”
“What? No.”
“I think you hit your head. You never compliment me–”
He interrupted. “I compliment you all the time–”
“Teasing and joking doesn’t count.”
He fell silent, having been defeated. Then he muttered a quiet:
“I do think you’re cute.”
“Are we in grade school? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming. Don’t actually pinch me, dickwad.” You warned before he could even raise his hand. He laughed.
“Can you take this seriously?”
“Oh, how the tables have turned. How does it feel, Tex? Annoying, huh?” You leaned slightly over the center console, poking him in the arm. “Now you know how it feels.”
“I don’t act like this,” he shot back.
“Yes you do. If only you could see yourself–”
“Okay, I get it,” he huffed exasperatedly.
“Oh, do you? I don’t think you do–”
You were cut off as he leaned over the center console, crashing his lips onto yours. You were startled, eyes wide as you quickly pushed him off. He looked confused, maybe even a little hurt, but he backed off instantly.
“What the hell was that?”
He shrugged. You mocked his shrug, throwing up your hands. He mimicked your movements, throwing his hands up as well.
You both looked at each other for a few tense seconds before leaning back in, kissing with fervor. Never in a million years did you think you’d be kissing Jake Seresin, yet here you were. And he initiated it.
You’d have to unpack that later.
You pulled back from him again, both of you catching your breaths. You turned away from him, shifting in your seat to face the windshield. You felt his eyes boring holes into the side of your head.
“Are you angry?” He asked.
“What? No. Why would I be angry?” You replied, turning back to face him.
“Okay, you’re being confusing. First you’re pulling away then you’re kissing me back then you’re turning away–”
“I’m waiting for you to get the message and drive so we don’t make-out in the parking lot of this bar, where all of your colleagues are currently at.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding as he finally turned the keys in the ignition.
Both of you sat in silence as he drove out of the parking lot. It wasn’t until you were almost at his apartment that you spoke again.
“Do I get a badge for kissing you? One that says: ‘I made-out with Jake Seresin and all I got was this stupid badge’?” You looked over at him with a straight face. He rolled his eyes.
“I don’t even know why I missed you,” he sighed as he pulled into a parking spot, putting the car in park and turning it off.
“Just shut up and kiss me again,” you told him as you slipped out of the car, meeting him at on the driver’s side.
“If you’ll be quiet, then gladly.”
You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t annoyed. Not in the slightest.
#glen powell#hangman fanfiction#hangman seresin x reader#hangman x y/n#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x y/n#top gun#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#natasha phoenix trace#robert bob floyd#fluff#best friends#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x you#hangman top gun#hangman fluff
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Friends Don't || Chapter 12
Synopsis: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?
Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]
Tropes: Friends to lovers
Warnings: Cursing, angst, cancer, alcohol, mentions of death, fertility and pregnancy discussions, surrogacy
WC: 4.6K
Chapter summary: Reid confines in Phoenix about intimacy issues after Bob learns about her diagnosis; Bob and Reid discuss their future and how kids will play into that; Hangman tries to apologize for being an asshole
Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here
You had told Bob you didn’t want things to change. He tried his hardest to take that to heart.
You moved back in and that first night sleeping in Bob’s arms again felt like coming home to your own bed after a six-month backpacking trip.
The issue was that you wanted him. You craved his touch. And Bob still touched you like you were a porcelain doll, ready to break.
Before, you barely had to trace your fingers over his chest before he was pulling your panties down with his deft fingers, working himself inside of you, trapping your moans with his mouth.
Now, you’d roll over, press yourself against him, and he would lay his lips gently on your forehead, trying to ease you back to sleep.
After a week, you got sick of it.
“He won’t even touch me,” you complained to Phoenix, taking a sip of your iced tea.
She looked over to her right, toward the inside of the house where the rest of the guys were gathered. The two of you were sitting under the shade of a tree out at the edge of the small fenced-in yard, drinking iced tea and lounging on soft fold out chairs, the kind that parents bring to little league games.
“He treats me like I’m going to break.”
“He’s scared,” she said, sliding her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “You’re the love of his life, Reid. You’re the one thing that means the world to him. And he’s grappling with the fact that he might lose you. He doesn’t want to ruin it.”
You let out a sigh. “That’s the thing. We only have so much time. And I want him, so much.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
You reached out and grabbed her hand. “Really? Thank you!”
She smiled. “Never thought I’d have to talk Floyd into fucking you. Talking him out of fucking you? That I can do. This wasn’t in the Navy handbook.”
You laughed, settling back against the soft fabric of the chair. In the distance you watched as Jake and Bradley argued over how to properly grill the steaks.
Phoenix turned to you after a moment. “Have you guys talked about what happens next?” she asked softly.
“No.” Your eyes were trained on Bob as he bent down, adding another case of beer to the cooler next to the sliding door. “I’m just not ready. Neither is he.”
“I get that,” Phoenix said. “But Reid, you have to. Sooner, rather than later. It’s going to ruin him. He should at least know how you want things to go down after you’re gone.”
“Like what?”
“The funeral. Your stuff.” She let out a breath. “How soon you’d want him to move on.”
You turned to her. “He gets to mourn me as long as he wants. If that’s two days or twenty years. I’m not going to put a cap on it.”
She nodded. “I know. But if you let him, he’ll never look at another woman ever again. He’ll live by himself forever, as a hermit. Is that what you really want for him?”
You turned back to Bob. He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans before looking over at the two of you. You raised your hand in a wave and he smiled back. The sudden urge to run to him and toss your arms around his neck was overwhelming. But you knew that if you did he would be worried. About you running. About all of it.
“Reid?” Phoenix’s voice shook you from your daydream.
“He should move on,” you whispered. “I need him to be happy. He deserves that. He deserves better than this.”
She grabbed your hand. The two of you sat there, holding hands, in silence. Until the sun started to set softly over the roof of the house and Bradley called you inside for dinner.
Later that night, you watched Phoenix pull Bob aside. His eyes darted to where you were sitting on the patio, a glass of wine in hand, and you knew exactly what she was saying to him.
“Want some company?”
You looked up. Bradley stood with a beer in one hand, a smile beneath his mustache. You nodded enthusiastically. “Please.”
He took a seat next to you on the large bench. Despite everything that had happened, Bradley was a comforting presence. You realized the two of you were always destined to be better friends than lovers.
Sometimes it works out like that.
“Couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.” Bradley tipped his head to where Bob and Phoenix were still in deep discussion.
You blushed. “Oh, Jesus.”
He chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I get where he’s coming from.” Bradley squeezed your thigh gently with his hand, closer to your knee, in a friendly way.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“If we were still together, would you be like that?” you asked. “Would you be afraid that you’d break me?”
“Probably not,” Bradley said. “But he loves you more than anybody else ever could.” You looked up at him. He set down his beer on the brick patio. “He loves you with his whole heart. I think he’s worried that any move he makes is going to take minutes, days, off of your time together. He’s so scared that he’s going to mess things up. And he’s never had to deal with death like this before. Not something drawn out. He doesn’t know how to handle it.”
You squinted at him. There was something calm in his demeanor. Familiar in a way. “Have you? Dealt with this before.”
Bradley nodded. “My mom. She died of cancer when I was twenty.”
“Oh.” You reached out, taking his hand into yours and squeezing it. “I’m so sorry, Brad.”
He shook his head. “Thank you. It’s been a while, it gets easier. But I know firsthand how he feels.” Bradley looked up at Bob. “He’s watching his whole world fall apart.”
“This is why I didn’t tell anyone,” you whispered. “I wanted it to be normal. For a while. For as long as possible. I didn’t want people to treat me like a patient.”
Bradley squeezed your hand. “Tell you what. If we’re ever doing that and it’s bothering you, tell me. I’ll make everyone stop.”
You chuckled. “You promise?”
“For you?” he whispered. “Anything.”
You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes softly, your hands still intertwined between your two bodies.
***
“I’m going to take a sabbatical,” Bob said as he rinsed a few tomatoes in the sink, turning around and patting them dry with a well-loved dish towel that you had sent him from Turkey five years prior.
You frowned. “What? You can’t do that.”
He nodded. “They have special permissions. This is one of them.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “I said you were my domestic partner.”
“Oh, Bobby.”
You got up, winding your arms around his waist. He set the tomatoes down gently, cradling your head softly. “I want to be here,” he whispered. “I can’t risk getting shipped off for who knows how long. I won’t risk it. If I have to quit I will. Whatever it takes.”
You pressed your face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. Spicy oranges and jet fuel. After a moment, you leaned back, wrapping one hand around his neck, tugging his lips down to yours. You let your lips graze over his softly, gently.
“Sunny,” he murmured, pulling back.
“Please,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Please. I need you. All of you. I’m not a doll that you might break. I’m the same me as I was two weeks ago when you fucked me on the halllway floor.”
The tips of Bob’s ears went pink.
“I need to feel you inside of me,” you whispered and a groan bubbled from Bob’s throat as he leaned down, pressing his lips back against yours, his hands soft where he cradled your head, his other hand against the small of your back, creating a barrier between your back and the kitchen counter. “Take me to bed,” you murmured and in one swift motion Bob pulled you into his arms, floating down the hallway into the bedroom, setting you down gently.
You let him pull off your sundress and watched his eyes widen when he saw you weren’t wearing any underwear or a bra. You spread your legs wide and Bob kneeled on the bed, pressing his face between your legs, one hand gripping your hip softly, his tongue licking a thick stripe through your folds toward your clit as you trembled on the mattress.
“Oh!”
Bob grabbed both sides of your hips with his hands, pushing his face closer into your wet cunt, his nose brushing across your clit as his tongue prodded your entrance. Your fingers gripped his hair tightly, tugging him closer, and Bob started to swirl his tongue across your folds, doing figure eights over your swollen clit as you moaned.
“Bobby, fuck, yes, right there!”
He grunted as you came all over his face, your arousal coating his lips as he pulled back, one of your legs shaking from the force of the orgasm. Bob smoothed his palm over your thigh softly, shifting on top of you. Your fingers grabbed at his shirt, pulling it over his head, before pushing at the waistband of his shorts. He kicked them off carefully, his hard cock landing on your thigh and you gasped as it brushed over your wet folds.
“Want you so badly,” you murmured, sealing your mouth over his. Bob reached down, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, spreading your juices over his length as he pumped himself, the tip of his cock hitting you repeatedly as he did so, causing you to groan.
“Honey,” he whispered into your neck. “Fuck, so needy for me.”
Your fingers tightened around his biceps. “Please, Bobby, please fuck me.”
His blue eyes met yours. “I will, baby. Let me get a condom.”
You shook your head. “It’s just us, right? Nobody else?”
Bob removed his hand from his cock, looking at you long and hard. He nodded. “Sunny, from day one it’s always only been you. The minute you said you were mine, there was no one else.”
“Then I want to feel you,” you whispered. “All of you. I never want anything to stand between us again.”
He nodded, reaching down and sliding the tip of his cock into your entrance, punching a moan out of your mouth. You buried your face into Bob’s shoulder, eyes pinched shut, as the force of his cock splitting you in half took over. “Oh, fuck,” Bob growled against you. Your walls were clenched around him, so tight and warm and he had never felt anything that felt one tenth as good as you did. “Gotta relax, darlin’. It’s too tight.”
“Sorry,” you whispered, letting out a breath, trying to relax.
Bob leaned down, brushing hair out of your eyes, locking his lips gently on yours. You focused on the warmth of his kiss as he slowly worked his hard cock inside of you, spreading your legs wider, stretching you to your fullest point. When he was all the way in, he broke the kiss with a loud groan. “Oh, my God,” Bob whimpered.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in tighter. “Feel so full,” you moaned, locking your legs over his waist. “Holy shit.”
Bob rocked his hips slowly forward, pressing himself deeper before pulling back and filling you again. You gasped as he moaned softly into your ear, his grunts making you even wetter, your walls sliding softly against his cock as he pressed the spongy walls inside of you.
“I love you,” you whispered.
He leaned back onto his knees, tugging your legs and hips higher, pressing a series of kisses to your calf. “Fuck, Sunny, I love you so much. Feel so fucking good, goddamn.”
He was close, you could tell. So were you. You reached one hand down, brushing against your clit. “Come with me,” you murmured. “Please, Bobby, come inside of me. Fill me.”
Bob groaned loudly, leaning forward, plunging his cock deeper inside of you and you gasped, pressing down hard on your clit, circling the bud quickly as you watched his beautiful face contort in ecstasy. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna come. Darlin’, I’m coming!”
And then he was spilling inside of you as you shouted his name, your orgasm breaking as he shot hot cum against your walls, collapsing softly at your side, his cock still trapped inside your wet, tight walls. You ran one hand over his back, tucking a leg over his hip, holding him close. “Bobby,” you whispered. “I love you more than I even realized was possible. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”
He let out a sigh, running one hand over your cheek. “I’ll love you forever, Reid.”
***
“Listen, Reid—”
You held up a hand, stopping Jake mid sentence. “Not tonight, Seresin,” you said quietly. You looked over at Bob. He was grinning from ear to ear, standing next to the old wooden piano as Bradley pressed down on the keys.
It was Bob’s twenty-ninth birthday. The two of you had officially known each other for a decade. It felt like just yesterday that you had stopped him after class to ask if he would tutor you.
If only you had met him sooner. If only you had more time.
Jake opened his mouth but one look at your frown and he closed it, hanging his head softly. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, walking away.
You leaned against the bar. It wasn’t often that you got to watch Bob lose himself in a moment anymore. It always felt like his mind was elsewhere. He was worried about the future. He was panicking. He so rarely was in the moment. You loved to watch him smile. Watch him enjoy himself. Even if it was only for a few minutes.
Once Bradley had finished a few songs, Bob patted him on the shoulder, making his way over to you at the bar, winding his arm around your waist, dragging you in closer, planting a kiss on your lips softly.
“Hi darlin’.”
You smiled up at him. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”
Bob nodded, sliding his hand into yours, leading you out through the back door.
The two of you slipped off your shoes, setting off in the cool sand. You were reminded of only a month before when you had snuck out onto the beach during Jake’s birthday party. That was the night that had unraveled everything.
The moon was bright, tossing a blanket of light on the dark ocean waves. You walked in silence for a few moments before Bob turned to you. “Sunny?”
“Yeah baby?”
He leaned in, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. “You know I love you, right?”
You grinned. “Always.”
Bob smiled softly. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared. All I know is that I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left.”
He stopped and shoved his hand in his pocket, emerging a moment later with a plain gold band. You looked at the ring and then up at him in shock.
“We don’t have to get married or have a wedding or any of that. I know it’s not your style,” he said. “But I just want to know that when it happens, we belonged to each other. That’s all I want.”
You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you nodded furiously. “I’ll be yours, Robert Floyd. Always have been.” You held out your shaky left hand and Bob slid the ring on carefully.
He smiled down at you. “That’s Meemaw’s ring, by the way. She told me a long time ago to give it to you.”
You pressed your hand close to your heart. “Now I feel bad that I didn’t get you a gift,” you whispered.
Bob leaned down, pulling you closer to him, your face pressed against his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his core. “You’re my gift.”
***
The last box of your things finally got shipped from Brooklyn. It had somehow gotten lost by the moving company, arriving months later than the rest of your items.
You frowned, standing at the door looking down at the box. “Bobby?”
“Coming sweetheart.”
A moment later, he appeared at the front door in a pair of jeans and sweatshirt. Temperatures were starting to dip as you entered fall.
Bob looked at the box. “What is that?”
“It’s the last box, that one they lost when they were moving my stuff,” you said. “Can you help me get it inside?”
“Of course, honey.” You scooted to the side, holding open the door as Bob lifted the box, carrying it into the dining room where he plopped it gently on the table.
You grabbed a scissors, slicing through the tape, peering inside. It felt like another lifetime ago that you had boxed everything up in your Greenpoint loft.
Peering into the box, you spotted a pair of old headphones, and then several manilla folders. “What is all of this?” Bob asked, pulling out folder after folder.
You shrugged, opening one of the folders up, finding tax returns from a few years back. “Paperwork from my office, I think. I don’t even remember packing if we’re being honest.”
You were flipping through old travel magazines — why had you bothered to keep those? — when Bob’s voice cut through the empty air. “Reid?”
You looked up. Something about his tone. Bob held up a piece of paper in his hand, Mount Sinai’s logo embossed at the top.
“What is this?”
Squinting, it took a moment for you to realize. When you did, your heart sank a bit. You pulled out a chair, sitting down. Bob followed suit. “When I first got diagnosed, the doctor said that no matter what route we took for treatment, I should look into freezing my eggs.”
Bob’s eyes widened. “Did you?”
You nodded. “Yeah, I did. They got twenty four eggs.”
“Is that a lot?”
“Apparently it’s a decent amount.”
Bob looked down at the paper. “What are you going to do with them?”
“I actually hadn’t remembered until now,” you said quietly. “There’s a lot to think about.”
Bob reached over and put his hand on yours. “I know. How can I help?”
It was simple. Everything you had, you wanted to go to Bob. The two of you met with a lawyer who helped draw up your medical requests.
Later that night, just as you were about to fall asleep, Bob rolled over so you were face to face. “Sunny?”
“Hmm?” Your eyes were still closed.
“Honey, can I ask you something?”
You opened one eye. “What is it, Bobby?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the eggs.”
You frowned, sitting up against the pillows. “The frozen eggs?”
He nodded.
“What about them?”
“What if we had a baby?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Bob was propped up on one elbow, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight that fell where the gap in the curtains couldn’t reach. “I’m completely serious. I want to be a dad, I’ve always wanted to be a dad. And those eggs are there. They’re healthy.”
“I can’t carry a baby,” you whispered. “Not with the cancer.”
“We get a surrogate.” Bob sat up, taking your hands in his. “If you don’t want a baby, I understand. I would never force you to. But darlin’, there’s nobody else I would want to have a child with. Even if we only have a few months together with the baby, or if we have five years, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we would love that baby more than anything in this world.”
You looked at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re truly serious.”
He nodded. “I am. I want to have a baby with you, Reid Coleman. A little girl with your eyes. A little boy with your smile. I’ll take anything. I want to be a dad. And I want to raise a baby with you.”
“Let me think about it,” you whispered.
“Of course.”
You laid back down, Bob’s arms wrapped around you from behind. Kids. Babies. You had never thought too long or hard about kids until you were told it was unlikely you could have them. And then they started to dominate your thoughts.
You knew Bob would be a good dad. He would be an excellent dad. The only thing you worried about was leaving them.
At least they would have each other. At least he wouldn’t be alone.
You floated off to sleep, the image of Bob holding his newborn child in his arms tattooed across your mind.
***
You were sitting on the beach in a foldout chair, wearing a pair of linen pants and one of Bob’s old button downs, your bare feet buried in the sand as you watched the team play a confusing game of football. You had never been one for sports, so you didn’t even bother to learn the rules or objectives. Simply watching them all in their shirtless states was enough.
Bob came over during a halftime break and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey darlin’,” he whispered. “Doing OK?”
You nodded up at him. “Great. Can you just do me one favor?”
“Anything.”
You pinched the material of his yellow shirt. “Lose the shirt, baby. Let me watch my man destroy those idiots and look good doing it.”
He chuckled, shaking his head but peeling off his shirt, dropping it on the ground near you. Your eyes grazed over his chiseled stomach and muscular arms and you grinned. “Better?” he asked.
You nodded enthusiastically. “Now kiss me please.”
Bob leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. You reached out a hand, running it through his hair, your tongue darting into his mouth softly. He pulled back with a groan. “Honey, you’re gonna get me all hot and bothered,” he whispered and you looked down at a smirk to his shorts which were already growing tight.
“Go play,” you whispered. “We’ll finish this when you’re back.”
Bob groaned and licked his lips, looking at you one last time before jogging back to the group.
They were all beautiful. It was almost hard to choose who to look at. All tanned, taunt limbs, gorgeous faces, wide smiles. Once the game wrapped, everyone headed inside for a drink. Bob helped you put the chair and your stuff in his truck.
On the way back to the Hard Deck, he turned to you. “Sunny?”
“What is it sweetheart?”
“Have you, um.” Bob looked flustered. “Have you thought about what we were discussing the other night?”
Your chest tightened. He meant the baby discussion.
The truth was, it was the only thing you had been able to think about. You were twenty-nine, going on thirty. You never saw yourself as one of those women. The ones who longed for a child, who so obviously were made for motherhood. Your childhood had been rocky at best. Your mother was about as good of a role model as a can of beer was to an alcoholic.
And yet, something had changed over the last six months since the diagnosis. You started to notice babies and children out and about with their parents. At the store, on a sidewalk, on the beach. You would smile and wave and make little goo-goo noises to kids as they passed. And your heart would swell when they smiled back, chubby fingers raised in a wave.
You turned your eyes to Bob’s. “Yeah, honey, I’ve thought about it.”
“What do you think?” he whispered.
You shook your head and watched Bob’s face fall. Immediately, you pressed your hands to both of his cheeks. “Sorry, that wasn’t a no head shake. It was an I don’t know.” You sighed. “I want a baby,” you confessed, the first time you had said it outloud ever. “I just don’t know if I could do that to you. Leave you to raise a baby by yourself.” You shook your head. “That would be so incredibly selfish of me.”
Bob placed his hands over yours. “I’m asking you to do it,” he whispered. “It’s not selfish, Reid. It’s the most selfless thing a person could ever do.”
“OK,” you whispered.
Bob’s cerulean blue eyes lit up, his mouth dropping wide. “OK?”
You nodded and he let out a whoop, pulling you into his arms, spinning you around quickly before setting you back down and planting his lips on yours. You grinned, drawing your hands back, running your thumb over the cool metal of the ring on your fourth finger. So far, nobody had asked about the ring.
The two of you walked back to the bar hand in hand. Natasha was sitting outside on the patio, drinking a beer, her arms propped up against the wooden railing. She smiled at the two of you as you approached, taking in your uncontrollable smiles.
“What’s with you two?” she asked. “You look like cats that ate the canary.”
Bob looked at you. “Do we tell her?”
You squeezed his hand. “It’ll come out eventually.”
Bob grinned. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Natasha’s mouth dropped. Shock was written all over her face. It took her a second to compose herself, and when she did she shook her head. “Wait, but how. I thought with the cancer…” She trailed off.
You nodded. “I can’t carry the baby. But before I left New York, I froze my eggs. So we’re going to have to find a surrogate. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s what we want.”
You looked up at Bob. He was glowing. If he was this happy now, you couldn’t imagine how happy he would be when he held his child in his arms for the first time.
Natasha’s voice pulled you out of your daydream. “I’ll do it.”
The two of you turned to her, eyes wide. “What?” you breathed.
She nodded, a firm confirmation. She was serious. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your surrogate.”
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#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd x oc#bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd#robert floyd#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick imagine#top gun x oc#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw x oc#friends dont#best friend fic#jake seresin#natasha phoenix trace
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Jake knows he feels too much, he’s felt too much for years.
Hangman.
Christ. If only they knew he had lists in his notes app for allergies, likes and dislikes, favorite foods and birthdays.
Hangman.
Yeah. It’d be more fitting if he had been the one to leave the other behind. But no, he was flying with Snakebite and the asshole left Jake behind but hadn’t done the move right. So Jake pulled forward and ahead and Snake had to abort.
Hangman.
He wishes he could take the persona off, but it settles on his shoulders like a jacket. He finds some comfort in it. Jake knows that Javy can see through it, why Jake always sticks close to Javy and doesn’t ask too many questions. Has the confidence in himself when he really hasn’t had any since his father kicked him out at 15.
Hangman.
He sits outside the hard deck in the sand, he hears someone come up behind him. It’s probably Javy. The only person whose ever come to check on him in 20 years.
“You good Jake?”
Oh. Oh. That’s not Javy. That’s Bradley.
He sniffs, “yeah what’s it to you Roo.”
Bradley lands on the sand next to Jake, he sits close enough their shoulders touch. “Saw you leave. But I also saw you start crying. Figured I’d check up on you.”
Jake let’s put a wet laugh, he scrubs at his eyes. Jake, such the fucking cry baby look at you now.
“Jake come on what’s up, are you okay? Are you hurt? Should I get Javy?” Jake shakes his head, “no let him have his night. It’s stupid anyways. I’m just a bit drunk.”
Hangman.
“Can’t be that stupid if it made you cry.”
Jake falls back into the sand, it’s easier this way, he can just stare at the stars instead of looking away from Bradley.
“Nat almost drank coconut rum.”
Bradley lays back in the sand next to Jake. “Not sure I follow. But keep talking.” Jake shakes his head. “She’s allergic. No one saw but me so I reminded her. She told me to fuck off, and that if she wanted a lecture from her mom she’d call her.”
Bradley let’s out a puff of air. “Shit. I didn’t know she was allergic.”
Jake laughs again. God this day can’t end fast enough. “Not dead allergic just enough it bothers her. She mentioned once a few years ago.”
Bradley nods, “you notice things about people. You care.”
Now it’s Jakes turn to nod, “reason I came out here was I figured no one would notice I was gone. Got too loud in there.”
“I notice.”
Now Jake turns to look at Bradley, he’s not sure what he’s expecting to see but the look of, caring? God Jake might even dare to say love? In Bradley’s eyes are a startling image.
“You always let Payback have shotgun because rarely gets car sick, you let Javy have all your pickles because he loves them. You remembered Nat is allergic to coconut even though I’ve known her for years and she mentioned it to you once.”
Bradley takes a breath sitting back up. “God Jake I think I notice everything about you.”
Jake is shocked that Bradley has been apparently watching him for years. Shit maybe his crush isn’t just one sided. He sits up, twisting to face Bradley head on.
“You care?”
Bradley smiles, “please god punch me if I got this wrong Jake but I more then care.”
And then he kisses Jake.
Bradley Bradshaw is kissing Jake Seresin.
Merry fucking Christmas in July to Jake.
Jake pulls away. “I’m a lot Bradley. I feel too much. I cry when dogs die in movies. I get angry around father related holidays. I have a weirdly dependent relationship with my best friend. I get it if you want to run away.”
Bradley takes Jake’s hand, he brings it up to his mouth kissing it and then using it to drag Jake into a hug. “I like a lot Jake. I’m grabby in the mornings. I take 30 minute showers. I cook but maybe not to the best level. I go full out at any holiday but I’m insufferably overkill around Valentine’s Day. I’m not running if you aren’t.”
Jake presses a kiss into Bradley’s neck. He feels tears in his eyes but for different reasons now. “Well I guess there’s only one way for me to know about the grabby morning part huh?”
Bradley laughs, he stands in one motion, and sticks a hand out for Jake to grab. “Wanna find out?”
Jake smiles up and grabs Bradley’s hand.
He’s not letting go. And he’s going to remember every damn moment of tonight.
#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#this is not part of my slider is jakes dad au#bradley bradshaw x jake seresin#top gun#top gun maverick#sorry to Nat but I needed a mean person for a sec#I love her though#Jake seresin has lots of feelings#javy coyote machado#Javy is the best friend#hangman name origin!!#I’m so wasted it’s not even funny
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[Coyote is trying to pry more information about Hangman and Rooster from Phoenix]
Coyote: Come on, Phoenix!!
Phoenix: Coyote, I told you everything I knew last night! Look, it's not that big of a deal, so Hangman and Rooster are doing it.
Coyote: I can't believe you would say that!
Phoenix: Sorry. Hangman and Rooster are...
Phoenix: *doing air quotes* ..."making love".
Coyote: No! I mean, come on! This is a huge deal!
Coyote: *sitting on the couch* Fine, I want...I need more details, who-who initiated the first kiss?
Phoenix: *thinking*...I don't know.
Coyote: Is Rooster romantic with Jake?
Phoenix: I don't know.
Coyote: Are they in love?
Phoenix: *thinking* I don't know.
Coyote: You don't know anything.
Phoenix: Ohh, I know one thing!
Coyote: What?
Phoenix: *pointing to where Coyote's sitting* They did it right there on the couch.
Coyote: *jumps up quickly*
Phoenix: *grins*
#headcanon that coyote is soft and phoenix hard-boiled#javy is the best friend jake could ever ask for#hangster#phoenix and coyote#incorrect quotes#source: friends#sereshaw#Hangaroo#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#javy coyote machado#natasha phoenix trace#rooster#hangman#coyote#phoenix#hangman x rooster#rooster x hangman#bradley bradshaw x jake seresin#jake seresin x bradley bradshaw#top gun: maverick#tgm#top gun#roohang#rooshang#jake seresin#natasha trace#bradley bradshaw#javy machado#incorrect tgm
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the next installment of wingman's best friend / follow up of hooked from hour one / coming soon!
“Well, are you in love with him?”
You tutted at his insistence, shrugging dumbly with your shoulders. Love was a big word. It wasn’t easy to find, especially with your line of work. Most people Bradley dated found his job exciting at first, until they eventually got upset with all his time away and the odd working hours. It was hard enough being his friend, you couldn’t imagine how hard it was dating a naval aviator.
But then again, your job wasn’t a cake walk either.
Suddenly, you regretted doing the “secret job” thing with Jake. Honestly, you hadn’t expected feeling about him the way you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it. What if telling him about your job now would scare him off?
“Hey, you still with me?”
You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling crookedly at Bradley. “I don’t know. I guess I could be? He’s… Kind of perfect, actually. He made me come with his tongue.”
Bradley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he stared at you, wincing in pain as his nose twitched involuntarily. “Oh shit. You gotta lock that man down right now. A summer wedding sounds nice. Obviously, I’ll be your best man.”
“Maid of honor, you mean.”
“That, too.”
“God, you’re stupid. All of that missing oxygen in your brain really is starting to show.”
“You literally just whacked your purse in my face, I’m pretty sure I have brain-damage.”
“Self-inflicted brain damage.”
author's note: are y'all as excited as I am????? sry, couldn't help but post this lil tidbit. SPREAD THE WORD! REBLOG! SECOND INSTALLMENT COMING SOON!
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#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw headcanon#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin imagine#hangman#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#wingman's best friend
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(TOPGUN friends of some of the Daggers are getting married, and Hangman and Phoenix will be standing up with them)
Hangman(to Phoenix): Now remember, it is the duty of the best man to dance with the maid of honor.
Rooster: Dance? You can't dance. When did you learn how to dance?
Hangman(puts a toothpick in his mouth and smirks): Oh, I've got moves you've never seen...
#incorrect quotes#hangster#hangaroo#hangman x rooster#top gun maverick#original: my best friend's wedding#jake seresin#bradley bradshaw#natasha trace#hangman seresin#rooster bradshaw#phoenix trace
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All Or Nothing - Part 1 - All Or Nothing Mini Series
-Summary: Jake's best friend has a crush. Too bad it's on his biggest competitor in the air, one he doesn't trust, with her, on the ground.
Warnings: angst, protective!Jake, asshole!Jake, language, fluff.
W/C: 1.7k
Rating: M (mature 16+)
Characters: Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.
Pairing: platonic Hangman x fem!reader, Rooster x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Notes: based on this anon request - hope you like it.
A/N: Thank you, nonnie, for the inspiration. This spiraled into another mini-series, but for now, it will remain as a one-shot, the reason being here.
Betas: @writercole and @cockslutpadalecki took a look for me // Stamp of Approval from the Queen herself 👑 @deanwinchesterswitch
Graphics: dividers @writercole // title card made by me.
Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms
All Or Nothing
With the brightest of smiles, Jake spins you around the dance floor. You feel the eyes of envy burning into you from most of the females in the room. Not for the first time, you wonder why he chose to take you to the award ceremony instead of an actual date. He won’t be getting lucky with you tonight, but someone should take advantage of the Adonis in his dress whites.
“You’re extra happy tonight,” you say, knowing it's more than the medal pinned to his chest for his part in the dagger mission.
“I am happy,” Jake replies, his cheek against yours, the hand on the small of your back urging you closer. “I got a medal, my best friend is here, it’s an open bar, and I get to piss off Rooster.”
“What?” you ask, trying to pull back to look at him, but Jake holds tight, not allowing you to budge.
“Nothing,” he chuckles in your ear. “Just keep dancing.”
You know his relationship with Rooster is tender, both of them taking pleasure in pushing the other’s buttons, but Jake’s comment makes little sense. They seem to be on good terms lately, shaking each other's hand in congratulations after receiving the recognition they deserved. No one forced it; it was a genuine moment between the two. So what is he talking about?
Before you get a chance to push the matter, you spy Bradley making his way through the crowd of dancers, and he smiles, boyishly shy, at you as he approaches.
Damn, he looks good in his dress whites. Someone should definitely take advantage of him tonight too. You hope you get the chance, even if it's just a kiss.
Bradley taps Jake’s shoulder. “May I cut in?”
Jake doesn’t spare him a glance, gives a curt “no,” and guides you away.
“Jake,” you protest, flashing Bradley an apologetic smile. “I can talk for myself.”
“Not with him, you can’t,” Jake grits through his teeth.
You stop moving and drop your arms from his shoulders to rest your hands on your hips. “Is that it?” you ask, realization hitting you like a slap in the face. “You're using me to piss him off?”
Jake rolls his eyes and blasts out a sigh. “I’m not using you. I just wanna dance with my friend. Is that too much to ask?”
“We can dance,” you assure him, “but I’d like to dance with Bradley too. Is that too much to ask?”
He shakes his head, jaw muscles ticking as he bites down the anger he’s trying to hide. “Do what you want, dance with him, fuck him, whatever. I need some air.”
The fresh air hits Jake as he steps outside of the expansive ballroom. He takes a deep calming breath, looking out over the manicured gardens. He should probably apologize to you. He was out of line. Telling you who you can and can’t socialize with is a dick move, and he knows it. But there’s something about Rooster liking you that rubs him the wrong way.
It started the night he introduced you to the Dagger Team. Bradley flirted with you over dinner, and you reciprocated, choosing to switch seats with Bob to be closer to him.
You asked Jake about Rooster’s relationship status on the drive back to your hotel, and he lied, telling you, “Yeah, he’s seeing someone, a girl from back home. She’s visited a couple of times.”
The look of disappointment and hurt in your eyes made him feel like shit, but it was better that way.
Rooster asked about you the second night you all met for drinks.
“So, Jake,” Rooster asked, leaning his elbows on the Hard Deck’s bar. “Y/N is nice. Which makes me wonder why she’s friends with you.”
“No!” Jake snapped immediately. “No. She’s off limits.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” Rooster defended, standing straight and holding his arms up in surrender.
“You called me Jake, which means you want something, and I know what that stupid fake shy smile means - you like her.” Jake took the fresh bottles of beer from the server, “the answer is no, I don’t give you my blessing, back off. I won’t warn you twice.” While the threat settled in the air, Jake turned and walked away.
He gave the new drinks to Phoenix and Fanboy, grabbed your hand, and led you out without telling you what the rush was.
After that, he’d tried to keep the two of you apart, but it was easier said than done. You moved to San Diego to be closer to him now that he was stationed at Fightertown, but so were the rest of the Dagger Team. Jake swore Bob and Phoenix were in on the scheme to keep him busy so Rooster could chat you up. Someone must have corrected Jake’s lie because the two of you grew closer whenever you all hung out.
“Jake.” Your soft, cautious voice comes from behind him, and he closes his eyes, unwilling to face you.
“Go back inside, Y/N.”
“Not till you tell me what all that was about back there.”
“Nothing, let it go. Go dance with Rooster.”
“Or fuck him?” you parrot, and he hears the sneer without needing to see it. He feels your hand on his elbow and slowly opens his eyes to find you in front of him. “What’s going on?”
“Do you want to?” he asks, “do you want to fuck him?” His expression begs you to deny it.
You're taken aback for a moment. Sex isn’t a subject that’s off-limits between you, but Jake knows better. You’re not the one-night stand kind of girl. But something in the imploring way he asks makes you feel like your answer could affect your friendship.
After a long pause, you question, “Is it a problem if I do?”
“Yes!” he yells and immediately regrets it when you jump slightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t let you do it.”
“Let me?”
“That’s not what I mean,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I know you, I know you love with everything you have, it’s all or nothing for you, and you can’t do casual sex. I don’t trust him, at least not with you. He’s a Navy guy; he’s one of us. He’s just like me; he’ll fuck you and forget your name in a week, and I’ll have to pick up the pieces.”
“I think you’re wrong,” you say, “he’s not like you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about; you think I’m wrong,” Jake implores, “you don’t know him like I do. And I sure as hell don’t want you to find out the hard way.”
Jake watches your chest inflate as you inhale to respond, but your eyes shift to look over his shoulder, and he turns to see Bradley coming out of the doors.
“Fuck off, Bradshaw,” he says as Rooster approaches.
“I will,” Bradley says, “just let me apologize first.”
Jake’s completely confused. What does Bradshaw have to apologize for? Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong, yet.
Bradley takes the silence as an invitation and comes to stand beside you, looking Jake in the eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize something was going on between you two. I thought you were just friends, and I’m sorry I overstepped.”
Jake looks from Rooster to you and sees the ‘I-told-you-so’ that you're dying to deliver in the smirk you're unsuccessfully trying to suppress. In the silence that follows, Bradley steps closer and offers his hand to Jake, a peace offering.
You snicker, unable to contain it, and it turns to a full-on belly laugh. With a modicum of words, Bradley has completely flipped Jake’s reasoning. Jake knows, as well as you do, he never would have done such a thing as apologize.
“What?” Rooster asks, turning to look at you laughing. “What am I missing?”
“There’s nothing between us, Bradshaw,” Jake explains. “She’s like my sister. I just don’t trust you.”
“Jake,” you warn. “Play nice.”
Jake hangs his head, shaking it slowly. He contemplates the whole thing listening to the crickets come alive as the night cools. What’s the worst that could happen? Bradley gives you all or nothing, and if it's the latter, Jake will kill him. Simple.
“Fine,” Jake relents, looking up at the two of you. “You have my blessing.”
Your smile beams as you excitedly jump to put your arms around Bradley’s neck, as if Jake has told you you can keep the puppy dog you found on the side of the road. Bradley’s grin looks like the puppy that realizes he’s found his forever home as he wraps his arms around your waist.
It’s all sickeningly sweet.
“But if it all goes sideways, I get to say I told you so until the end of time,” Jake says smugly.
You roll your eyes but agree. “Okay.”
He points a warning finger at you. “And under no circumstances do you ditch me to hang with him!”
“Deal.”
He focuses on Rooster, finger following his gaze, sobering quickly, the air of jesting evaporating. “You break her heart, and I’ll fuck with your jet and make it look like an accident.”
Bradley chuckles nervously but nods in agreement. “You won’t have to, but copy that.” He wastes no time; taking a small step back out of your grasp, he offers you his hand with a slight bow. “May I have this dance?”
You dip your head and take his hand, letting him pull you into him.
Jake sighs with finality and walks to the door to leave you alone. “Oh, and Bradshaw,” he calls as he pushes down the handle, waiting for Rooster to look at him. “Just so you know, we did have a thing once. I was her first,” Jake confesses with an air of satisfaction.
“Jake!” You yell, “I hate you!”
“Love you too, Y/N,” Jake winks, turning back to enter the party. “Have fun, kids!”
Part 2 - Plus One
Master Lists: Top Gun Maverick // All The Fandoms
#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#rooster#hangman#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#rooster x reader#jake x best friend reader#hangman x best friend reader#rooster x you#protective!jake
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so last week i posted this hangster fic idea that was taking over my mind: okay but has anyone written a hangster fic where the bird strike hits hangman’s plane instead of phoenix’s (and rooster proceeds to Lose His Fucking Shit)? because i kind of need to read that
the wonderful @sassypopstar and @blood-mocha-latte posted incredible fics inspired by the prompt. i was, in turn, inspired by them to take my own bait and try my hand at it, and this is the resulting fic.
Summary:
“Hangman, it’s on fire,” he screamed. “Don’t th—”
But it was too late.
“Throttling up.”
“NO!” Bradley screamed, seeing Jake’s right engine blow. His plane started falling, and Bradley couldn’t keep the words in anymore.
“JAKE! NO! JAKE!"
--
Bradley and Jake broke up in Lemoore, and a year later they’re assigned to the Dagger Squad mission. Bradley thinks he’s got his heart under control, thinks he can handle Jake looking at him like he’s a stranger, like they didn’t mean the world to each-other once. But then a bird strike hits Jake’s plane, and Bradley proceeds to Lose His Fucking Shit.
oh and tagging @hanni-simp @decadenttragedytaleand and @chavivaelisheva who wanted to be be notified!
#hangster#hangman x#sereshaw#hangster fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#finally i got this out of my system#it turned out way angstier than i intended#but i promise a very happy and very fluffy ending#javy and phoenix are overprotective best friends#top gun maverick
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A MILLION LITTLE THINGS
PETE "MAVERICK" MITCHELL LOVE STORY x JAKE SERESIN
Summary: Cheryl "Avalanche" Kazansky was called back to Top Gun. She was the best of the best. She won first place in her graduation class just like her father who was one of the best fighter Pilots in his generation. The only problem was, Maverick Mitchell. A man that she held a strong hatred for and broke her heart into pieces. The other problem, he's her instructor for the mission.
Pairings: Maverick x fem reader, Bradley Bradshaw x best friend reader, Natasha x best friend reader, Jake Seresin x girlfriend reader, Iceman x daughter reader. Bradley and Jake are best friends in this one.
Nicknames: Scooter, or Cherry or Cher
Callsign: Avalanche
Warning(s): angst, cursing, violence, 10 year age gap, implied smut, fighting.
"You ready to get your asswooped Bagman?" Scooter said, as her and Jake had a stare off.
Both of them had a smirk on their lips. Jake had his chin resting on the pool stick in front of him as Scooter was in position to get the ball in the hole.
He scoffed, "Please." Scooter raised her eyebrows at him while wiggling her eyebrows at him.
"Oh! Would you look at that, four in one shot!" Scooter exclaimed, her hands in the air as she did a little dance.
"You cheated!" She called out, as the girl continued to shake her booty in front of him.
"Don't be such a sore loser!" Jake rolled his eyes at the girl.
"I'm gonna get a drink to celebrate, thanks for paying for them." Scooter said rushing to Penny before he could say anything.
"Shit." Scooter said under her breath, clearing her throat and faced the bar where the brunette woman stood behind the bar.
"I see you won." Scooter gave Penny a cheeky smile.
"I always win, Pen." She said in a flirty tone.
Penny rolled her eyes at her cockiness.
Scooter tried her best not to glance at the man beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her soul. Her heart was in her throat, she couldn't look at him. She promised that she would do anything and everything to ignore him. She's been doing that for at least four years so far.
Penny noticed the look in the girl's eyes when she realized how uncomfortable she was. Penny looked over and noticed it was because of Maverick. She knew of their situation, how he broke her heart when she confessed her feelings for the older man, only for him to break it.
They were close, more than he'd liked to admit. He was also falling for her, too fast, but she was too young. She should be with a guy like Rooster, someone her own age. Not someone like him.
Penny knew why he did what he did. He didn't have to tell her. He knew that it was because of her age, or the fact her father was a close friend. He would deny any feelings for the pilot.
"You don't always win." A voice behind her spoke up.
Scooter rolls her eyes at the man behind her. Penny grabbed a few beers from the bar as she took out her card.
"Thanks babe!" Scooter kissed Jake on the cheek and patted him on the chest.
"Babe?" Maverick asked Penny as they walked off.
"They're not together. She hasn't dated anyone in a while." Penny informed. Maverick sighed, looking at the woman with a longing look.
"She's in love with you Mav. She tells me all the time. She'll tell me all about those horrible dates, how they were pigs. Then one day she finally agreed to go out with Jake, she's happy Mav. Jake's a good guy," Maverick looked up at Penny with wide eyes. Penny pursed her lips.
"They've been together for almost a year now." Maverick sighed as he watched the young couple.
"She wasn't going to wait forever Mav." Maverick stayed silent for a moment. She knew he was right.
"Bradshaw!" Scooter exclaimed from across the bar when she noticed a familiar man wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt.
"Scooter, how you been?" Bradshaw wrapped his arms around her in a brotherly hug.
"Ya know, livin" and breathin'." She said, with a grin on her lips.
"You look good." Scooter smiled, kissing him on the cheek.
"How are you and Nat doing?" Bradley's face turned a deep shade of pink, which caused Scooter's grin to turn into a wider one.
"We're getting married." Scooter jumped up and down as she lets out a shriek.
"Omg, I'm gonna kill Nat for not telling me!" Scooter ran off to find the brunette, as Maverick looked over at the scene.
"Natasha!" Scooter shouted, marching towards the female Pilot who was talking to Hangman, Coyote and Fanboy.
"How did you not tell me?" Natasha glared sharply at Bradley who looked like he was scared.
"You weren't supposed to tell anyone yet!" Natasha scolded as she slapped him upside the head.
"I'm sorry, you know I can't keep secrets from her." Natasha sighed.
"What's she talking about?" Jake asked, standing beside Scooter over towering her smaller frame.
"Bradley proposed to me, we were planning on getting married after the mission." Natasha said, a smiling growing her lips, showing her pearly white teeth.
"I'm the maid of honor, right?" Scooter asked, raising her hand like a student would in class.
"Actually, you were gonna be Bradley's best man." Cheryl pouted, a look of disappointment in her eyes.
"Hey!" Jake exclaimed a look of disappointment in his eyes.
"I filled the spot ad Bradshaw's best man since we were two." Cheryl points two fingers showing the age they were when they met.
"Natasha only knows everything about Rooster is because of me." Scooter said pointing to herself as Bradley looked at her.
"Is that how she knew about that time-" Scooter cringed slightly, her teeth clenching when she realized that she said that out loud.
Natasha had an amused look on her face. Her arms crossed over her chest.
"Pff, no. Oh c'mon, it was funny!" Bradley glared at Scooter as she tried to get back in his good graces.
"I'm gonna go get drinks." Scooter goes to leave, Hangman follows them.
Jake took Scooter's hand, lacing them together. Luckily the bell of the bar rang, as everyone cheered. She noticed that it was Maverick and Penny. Jake noticed the look on her face, and stopped.
"You don't have to go over there. I could get us some drinks." Cheryl shook her head, giving Jake a false smile.
"I'm fine, it's just the way he broke my heart is what makes me hate him." She assured him. She didn't want anyone else to be hers, he was the one. Jake wasn't sure if he believed her, as he gave her a wary look.
"I could prove it to you tonight." She said, giving him a cheeky grin.
He had a smirk forming his lips as he looked down at her.
"Oh yea?" He asked coolly.
"Mhm." She said, her fingers playing with his uniform. His hands squeezed her hips as she looked at him with a seductive look. She had a cocky smirk on her lips knowing that she was winning.
"I'll meet you by the darts, get me my usual?" She asked. Jake squeezed her ass in a playful manner causing her to squeal out a laugh.
He gives her a kiss patting her ass softly as she watches him walk off. Her fingers on her lips as she could still feel his lips on hers. Her stomach bubbled inside her as she skipped over towards where Coyote was. Coyote had a teasing smile on his lips as he watched the girl come his way.
"Hangman isn't over here." He said in a playful tone.
"He's getting us drinks." She informed, grabbing three darts out of Coyote's hands.
"I bet you I could get a Bullseye without even looking. With three darts." She challenged him. Jake was at the jukebox playing Slow Rider by foghat. The two continued to argue even with Jake's presence.
"Thank you." Scooter said in a sweet tone as she kissed Jake on the cheek.
"What's she planning this time?" Jake asked, standing beside Coyote.
"She's trying to get a Bullseye without looking." Coyote informed.
"Hold my drink?" Scooter asked, placing the drink in his hands before he could even answer. Coyote snickered, as Jake glared at his friend.
Scooter covers her hand over her eyes, she has one dart in her hands that is facing the board. Scooter threw the three dots into the board and got a perfect Bullseye. It wasn't in the corner of the red dot, but right in the center.
"Why isn't your Callsign Bullseye?" Coyote asked, as Jake's smirk never left his lips.
"Who taught you that anyways?" Coyote asked, taking a sip of his beer.
"No one, I just hit the target every time." She said, staring at Jake the whole time. Coyote practically gagged when he noticed the fuck eyes they were giving each other.
"I'm out!" He Pat's Jake on the shoulder before leaving the two.
"Everytime huh?" Jake grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him. She was basically straddling his thigh.
"Every. Single. Time." She said slowly, with each word their lips getting closer.
"You sure about that?" He rasped.
"Positive." She whispered, their lips crashed together in a slow kiss. Her fingers going into his blonde hair as their noses brushed against each other.
They break apart when they hear the bell ringing again. A group of Naval Pilots head over towards Maverick who was being picked up and thrown out the door. On the other side of the bar Bradley was starting to play Great balls of fire.
"C'mon!" She said running over to Bradley. It was their song. Not his and Natasha's, not he's and Jake's but Bradley's and hers.
Bradley looked around the bar for Cheryl who came running over to the piano. She sat down beside him in the little space they had and she began to play the keys with him. Jake stood behind her resting his hands on her shoulders as they began to sing.
Memories flashing her vision as she remembered Goose playing at the little diner that her dad took her with Maverick. She was four when she wanted to learn how to play piano to play with her favorite Uncle. Then Goose passed, but Bradley and Scooter still played great balls of fire every chance there was a piano.
Outside Maverick watched the kids. He was having the same flashback from when they were kids. Scooter and Bradley sat on the piano as Goose would play. Charlie was standing next to Maverick while Carole sat in Goose' lap. Penny looked outside with a worried look on her face as she noticed a panicked Maverick. He walked away, not wanting to stay any longer than he needed.
That's when he also knew that he wasn't going to gain her trust again. Not after what he did to her.
A/n: sorry this chapter is so long, hope you enjoy this.
#bradley bradshaw x kazansky reader#maverick x you#jake seresin x you#bradley bradshaw x best friend reader#tumblr fyp#top gun maverick#natasha trace x reader
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All Or Nothing - Mini Series
Summary: Jake’s best friend has a crush. Too bad it’s on his biggest competitor in the air, one he doesn’t trust, with her, on the ground. The relationship reveals feelings Jake never knew he had.
Warnings: angst, protective!Jake, asshole!Jake, language, fluff, unwanted sexual advances/non-con sexual advances, mention of alcoholism, physical violence described, angst, end of a friendship.
W/C: 9.4k (4 parts)
Characters: Jake “Hangman” Seresin, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Mentioned/Small Parts: Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Robert “Bob” Floyd.
Pairing: platonic Hangman x fem!reader, Rooster x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
READ IT NOW (series complete): Tumblr // AO3
#jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#hangman#rooster#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#reader fic#reader insert#rooster x reader#rooster x you#best friend hangman#best friend jake
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Into Your Arms
warnings: fluff, more teasing and Jake being a flirt, not proofread (for the most part), part 2 to Habits of My Heart!
summary: after surprising Jake at the hard deck, you spend the night at his apartment. now you’re trying to figure out what’s happening to your friendship.
author’s note: part 2 to ‘Habits of my Heart’! also I wasn’t expecting to further that story, but it’s been getting some love and I’ve got some ideas, so maybe this will be a little mini-series? Let me know your thoughts! also you can read ‘Habits of my heart’ (aka part one) here
You woke up the next morning in a daze. Had last night really happened, or were you dreaming? Had Jake kissed you? Had you kissed him back? Maybe the few beers you’d had impacted you more than you thought.
You knew that nothing else had happened. You two had made-out for a while, then you just talked until the late hours of the night. You were too tired from your flight for anything else, and besides– he wasn’t getting you that easily.
Jake had fallen asleep first. You two had been laying side by side in his bed, staring at the ceiling and saying whatever came to mind. It made you think of some rom-com, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment.
When you eventually heard his soft snores, you stifled a laugh and got comfier on your side of the bed. He had always been the first one to fall asleep, ever since you two were kids. You could stay up until the next morning– but Jake? He was out by midnight.
“I need my beauty sleep,” he would grin, and you would always roll your eyes and give a witty retort.
Your thoughts of last night quickly dissipated at the sound of a loud bang coming from a different room, followed by a loud curse. You snorted, rolling out of Jake’s bed and trodding into the kitchen. You were still wearing your clothes from yesterday– some jeans and a t-shirt. Not the best to sleep in, but you were exhausted.
Jake was wearing a raggedy navy t-shirt and sweats, fighting to make a decent breakfast with a variety of ingredients strewn across the counter.
“Having fun?” You said, causing him to startle. He jumped, dropping the egg he’d been holding. It fell to the floor with a crack and Jake groaned as the yolk spread onto the tile.
“Give a guy some warning, would you?” He huffed, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess.
You rolled your eyes and stepped further into the kitchen. You’d never been in his apartment before– well, this apartment. The navy had him moving a lot, and because you were both so busy, there wasn’t much time to spend at one another’s homes.
You took it in, ignoring his annoyed muttering as he cleaned up the mess. It was nice, definitely Jake’s style. A little more modern, but still homey and cozy-feeling. Perhaps that was his country roots peaking out.
He tossed the dirty paper towel into the trash and turned back to his concoction. You approached him, standing on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder.
“What the fuck is that supposed to be?” You asked into his ear, causing him to jump again.
“Jesus fuck, stop doing that!” He turned, crossing his arms over his chest.
You laughed, “aren’t you supposed to be in the navy? I thought you guys needed to be aware of your surroundings all the time.”
“Excuse me for trying to focus on making us breakfast,” he grumbled, turning back towards the stove.
“Have you ever even used this kitchen before?”
“Yes!” He shot back.
“Have you used it other than to reheat leftovers or microwave meals?” You followed up.
“…Mind your own business. Always so noisy, it’s not attractive, honestly,” he muttered the last bit to himself as he reached for another egg.
You rolled your eyes and moved towards him, pushing against him to move him out of the way. Caught off guard, he stumbled to the side, but not without protesting as you surveyed his work.
“Jake, your mother is an amazing cook, and you’re telling me this is what you’re going to make me eat? Did she not teach you anything?” You grabbed the frying pan, holding it up to show him the very burnt, sad looking omelette.
“Just cut off the burnt parts,” he told you.
“It’s all burnt, dipshit,” you replied.
He huffed, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms once more.
“Fine then, let’s see you cook, master chef.”
“Hell no. Let’s go get McDonalds or something,” you told him, reaching to turn off the stove before tossing the burnt omelette into the trash and dropping the dirty pan into the kitchen sink.
“My burnt omelette would be better than McDonald’s,” he said with a hint of disgust, following you as you walked out of the kitchen.
You shrugged, turning to face him as you both entered his bedroom. “Then go fish your burnt omelette out of the trash. I’m going to get something.”
He groaned but didn’t protest. Jake started towards the bathroom, but you ran past him, quickly slamming the door behind you and clicking the lock before he could come in.
“Dibs on shower first!” You called from behind the door.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then you heard him laugh.
“You left your clothes out here.”
In your haste to beat him to the shower, you had totally forgotten your change of clothes (which were actually some of his old clothes, seeing as you’d left all of your things at the hotel you were supposed to be staying at). And knowing Jake, he wasn’t going to just give them to you.
“Leave them by the door?” You asked hopefully. He laughed again, the sound growing fainter as he presumably left the room. You groaned before accepting your fate and turning the shower on anyways.
—
Ten minutes later, you cracked open the bathroom door the tiniest bit to see if Jake was in his bedroom. You were clutching the fluffy bath towel around you like your life depended on it.
You didn’t see him through the crack, so you opened the door a little wider. Still nothing. Letting out a breath of relief, you pushed the door fully open and made your way to his dresser. The clothes you had forgotten were still sitting there, and you thanked whatever higher power there was that Jake wasn’t cruel enough to remove them.
With the clothes in one hand, the towel with the other, you tried to silently creep back towards the bathroom.
As soon as you turned around, however, you were met by Jake’s smug form as he blocked the entry to the bathroom.
You groaned and he grinned, then whistled as you watched his eyes take you in very slowly.
“You’re a perv,” you said, annoyance in your voice.
“No ma’am, I’m an opportunist.”
“You’re full of shit, that’s what you are. Move, Tex. Or I will move you.” You walked towards him, a mere foot separating the two of you. He was still wearing that shit-eating grin.
“We gonna wrestle? I’m not one to question your choices, but you may not want wrestle in a towel…”
“We’re not going to wrestle. I’m going to kick your ass for being annoying.”
“Is that a promise?” He asked.
“It’s a threat,” you responded.
“Hot.”
“Jake, move!” You groaned, using the hand holding your clothes to push at his shoulder. He laughed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into his chest. You stumbled forward, and you surely would’ve face-planted had he not been there to catch you.
“Easy there, hot stuff. Don’t want you fallin’.” He chuckled, tucking his chin to look down at you.
“I have never wanted to punch you in the face more than I do in this very moment.”
“Keep talking dirty and see what happens,” he replied.
You scrunched up your nose and once again pushed at his chest. “Gross. Has anyone ever told you how gross you are?”
“You have. Many times. Including right now.”
You wormed against him, but he grabbed you by the shoulders to still you. His grip wasn’t forceful– it was gentle. You stopped moving, looking up at him. He grinned down at you.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice quieter than before.
“Oh, so now you’re asking if you can kiss me?” You replied, vividly remembering last night when he just crashed his lips to yours with no warning.
“Well, can I?” He asked again.
You paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
Without another word, Jake leaned his head down and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes closed as your savored the feeling, and you had to stop yourself from throwing both your arms around his neck.
You pulled apart first, and he opened his mouth to speak. Before he could even get his first word out, you shoved (a little harshly) him and stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face. He was too stunned to stop you.
“Now we’re definitely going to McDonalds.” You called out to him through the door as you began to get dressed.
“Yeah, whatever,” he replied, but you knew he’d give in to whatever you wanted. He always had.
—
After Jake showered and changed, the two of you climbed into his truck and made your way to McDonalds. He grumbled the entire time, but you ignored him in favor of eating your food.
After leaving, he started driving in new direction. Confused, you raised your eyebrows and looked curiously out the window. Jake didn’t say anything, and for once, you didn’t pester him about it.
Ten minutes later, he had pulled into a public parking area with beach access. You frowned as he turned the car off, looking at you with a smile.
“What, you don’t like the beach?” He asked, brows furrowed in slight confusion.
“I do, it’s just that I’m currently dressed like Adam Sandler in your baggy clothes, we don’t have towels or anything, and we’re not wearing bathing suits.”
“I think I just fell asleep while you were talking, that was so boring and whiny. C’mon,” he grinned, pushing open his door and hopping out of the truck. “Live a little!”
Begrudgingly you followed him out of the car. He waited until you were beside him to start the trek up the sandy dunes to the beach. You followed behind, internally cringing at the feeling of sand getting into your tennis shoes.
When the two of you finally made it to the firmer sand, you took a chance to admire the pretty blue water. You’d never been to California before, but you’d always heard about their beaches.
Smiling, you made your way towards the water. Luckily, there weren’t very many people around. The ones that did paid you more than one glance, but you ignored them as you slipped off your shoes and socks, abandoning them at the waters edge. You stepped forward as the next little wave came crashing forward, washing over your feet.
Jake made his way to stand beside you, having also shed his shoes. He was more appropriately dressed– having worn flip flops and clothes that properly fit. Then again, he’d known where he was taking the two of you. Smug bastard.
“Happy now?” He asked, bringing you out of your thoughts. You turned your head to look at him.
“Mhm. Happy with the beach? Yes. Happy with you? That’s yet to be decided,” you told him.
He sucked in a breath, pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Tough crowd.”
You giggled as you dug your toes into the wet sand.
“When are you leaving?” He asked after a moment, turning his body towards yours.
“I’m supposed to fly back tomorrow. I’ve got work to get back to. It’s a miracle I was able to get these few days off, and I’ll be making it up in overtime– but it was worth it. I guess.”
You tacked on that last part to try and not give his ego a boost, but you knew it was a futile effort. Jake’s ego was almost as big as Texas.
He nodded his head as his lips quirked up in a smile. It wasn’t one of his smug or teasing ones. It was real, genuine, and it made you happy to see it.
Jake was so rarely serious in front of you. He had walls– you had them, too. But not to his degree. Getting him to open up was like pulling teeth, so you cherished any true, real, deep emotion and vulnerability you could get out of him.
“I could fly back with you.”
Your eyebrows shot up, mouth slightly agape. “Don’t you have things to take care of around here? I mean, you just got back.”
He shrugged, taking a hand out of one of his pockets to push it through his wind-blown hair. “I already talked with Rooster. His girl’s looking for a place to stay. I told him she could rent my place from me for a bit until she finds something else, or until I come back. It’s worked out.”
“And you didn’t bother to tell me this?”
“I talked to him while you were in the shower. You used up like, all of the hot water, by the way.”
You lightly hit his arm, offended. “I did not! I made sure to be quick.”
“Whatever you say,” he chuckled.
The sound of the crashing waves washed over both of you. You inhaled the sea’s salty scent deeply before turning to face Jake.
“You have to buy a plane ticket.”
“No problem,” he replied.
“Where are you going to stay? Your parents don’t have room for you anymore.”
“I can’t stay with you?”
You groaned, hanging your head. You were going to offer him a place to stay ever since he said he was coming home, but he didn’t have to know that. Plus, it was fun to tease him.
“I mean, you can, but your ass is sleeping on the couch.”
“We can’t share? We shared last night juuuuust fine.”
“Oh, fuck off. That’s different.”
“Is it?” He asked, brushing your shoulder with his.
“Yes. We were both a little intoxicated and we fell asleep talking. That’s not how it’s going to be back in Texas.”
“Does it have to be like that for us to share a bed?”
You sighed, pinching your brows together in frustration. Why did he ask so many questions? And why was he trying to bait you?
“Because things are… mixed up between us now.” You told him, folding your arms across your chest.
“I think they’re perfectly clear,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You like me, I like you. We kissed.”
“That doesn’t exactly make us a couple,” you retorted.
“Well, do you want to be my girlfriend?”
You went silent, thinking about his question. You had known him for so long, and a relationship could ruin everything. Or it could be everything. Big chance, big payoff, big risk.
But you didn’t know if you were ready to enter a relationship with him. He’d just gotten back, for heaven’s sake. You hadn’t properly talked to him in weeks, and he still wouldn’t lower his walls around you. You wanted him, you knew that you did, even if you didn’t want to admit it.
But when did he start wanting you?
Jake looked at you expectantly. You inhaled deeply.
“No. Not yet.”
He looked surprised, but he quickly masked his emotions and nodded nonchalant-like.
“Okay.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I just don’t want to jump right in–”
“Okay,” he interrupted. You rolled your eyes.
“Don’t get upset, Jake. You just came back. We haven’t seen each other in forever. Forgive me for wanting to go slow.”
“No, you’re right,” he replied. You looked at him, and you could tell he was being genuine. But you could also tell that he was a little hurt. It occurred to you that no woman had probably told him ‘no’ before.
You gave him a small smile before stepping closer to him and resting your head against his shoulder. He instantly leaned his head on top of yours and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
“Thanks for bringing me here, even though I look like Adam Sandler.”
“You’re welcome, Adam.” He laughed.
“Shut up.”
#glen powell#hangman fanfiction#hangman seresin x reader#hangman x y/n#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x y/n#top gun#top gun maverick#natasha phoenix trace#bradley rooster bradshaw#robert bob floyd#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fic#jake hangman x reader#jake seresin fluff#best friends#best friends to lovers#top gun maverick fic#hangman top gun#top gun x reader#top gun fluff
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Friends Don't || Chapter 11
Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?
Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]
Tropes: Friends to lovers
Warnings: Cursing, angst, cancer, alcohol, mentions of death
WC: 3.3K
Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here
Your skin was on fire.
Everything felt like it was melting and in slow motion. Like you were inside a raging tornado, just you and Bob staring at each other in the midst of the destruction. Nothing else but his blue eyes on yours, drowning in sorrow and pain and anguish.
A bottle shattered in the distance, ruining the illusion. And then you were yanked back to reality.
“Reid?” Bob’s voice was quiet. Shaky. Just your name on his lips, saturated in pain.
“You fucking asshole,” Phoenix hissed at Jake, shoving his arm and he tipped over into the railing of the deck in his drunken stupor.
He righted himself, half-lidded eyes finding yours. “Sorry.” It came out cheap and you stepped forward, slapping him clear across the face, the sound of your palm hitting his face echoing in the clear California night.
“Fuck you, Bagman!” you shouted, winding your hand back for another slap before you felt thick limbs grabbing you from behind, pulling you back.
“Stop it,” Bradley whispered, his hands hot on your arms as he physically held you back from striking Jake again. “He’s not worth it.”
The air was heavy. Desperate. You let out an angry sigh, looking over at Bob. His mouth was wide open. Your outburst at Jake confirmed his deepest fears.
It was true.
“Bobby,” you whispered, wiggling out of Bradley’s embrace, stepping toward him. He held out a hand, stopping you mid step, and you let out a guttural gasp.
He shook his head. “No. Don’t touch me.”
You crumpled to the ground, Bradley catching you before you almost smacked your head against the wooden flooring. Looking up at Bob from the ground you saw him turn, Phoenix’s hand light on his arm, her face drawn in concern. She looked down at you and Bradley before nodding her head, following Bob back into the bar.
It wasn’t until a thin breeze floated off of the ocean that you realized your cheeks were streaked with tears.
Bradley held you, cradled against his chest, as you sobbed on the dirty patio floor of the Hard Deck. After a few minutes, the crowd had thinned and he leaned in, whispering into your ear. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s get you up, OK?”
Slowly, Bradley pulled you to standing. You felt wobbly and he slipped one arm around your back, gripping your waist tight.
Phoenix and Bob were still gone. Jake sat in the corner, perched on top of a picnic table, Coyote at his side. Fanboy came up and whispered in Bradley’s ear, who nodded, a frown spread across his face. He turned to you. “Better take you to my place tonight,” he said. “I, uh, think you should give Floyd some space right now.”
You nodded silently, following his lead as he steered you toward the stairs near the side of the patio, out toward the parking lot. But you pivoted in his arms, stepping directly in front of the picnic table, Jake and Coyote looking up in shock. Your slap had sobered Jake up, at least a little bit, and his eyes looked less glazed as they locked onto yours.
“I hate you for doing that to him,” you whispered hotly, anger dripping out of every single one of your pores.
Bradley reattached his palm to the small of your back, guiding you away. But not before you saw Jake’s face fall with the realization of what he had done. Of what he had caused.
Back at the house, you showered in Bradley’s bathroom. When you emerged in a towel, he had an old Naval Academy t-shirt and a pair of boxers laying out on the bed for you. After slipping them on, you wandered down the hall where the back of his head was plainly visible over the edge of the couch.
He looked up as you rounded the corner of the couch, settling easily onto the other end, your bare feet landing in his lap. Bradley looked down at them before smiling. “Just like old times, huh?” he asked.
“Shit,” you muttered, pulling your legs to your chest, creating distance between the two of you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.”
He shook his head. “Reid. It’s fine. I promise.”
You frowned. “I’m guessing you hate me, too.”
“What?” Bradley reached out, placing one hand on your ankle, gripping you tightly. “No. Not at all. If anything, I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us.”
A tear slid down your cheek. You knew it was just the start. “I just wanted everything to be normal for as long as possible,” you whispered. “And then everything with Bob.” You sighed. “I knew the moment I told him, everything would change. And I didn’t want it to change. I wanted to stay like that forever.”
Bradley dropped his hand. “Why did you tell Jake?”
“I didn’t. He figured it out himself.”
“Fucking hell,” Bradley muttered to himself. “Well I spoke to Nat. She’s with Bob at the house. He, uh, he doesn’t want to see you right now.”
You hung your head.
“So you can stay here. As long as you need.” Bradley grinned. “Looks like we’re finally spending the night.”
You laughed, despite yourself. “Thank you, Bradley.”
He stood up, holding out a hand, pulling you to standing. “Are you going to be OK?” he whispered softly, never dropping your hand.
You felt his thumb stroke the backside of your hand. “I’ll be fine,” you replied quietly.
***
The next day, Bradley drove you back to Bob’s. You sat in the passenger seat of his old Bronco, tapping your foot nervously, as Bradley went to the door, ringing the bell. Phoenix opened it and they chatted for a few minutes before she looked over at you sadly, closing the door.
Bradley climbed into the driver’s seat. “Let’s give him one more day. Want to go grab breakfast?”
You laid back against the seat, dejected. “Sure,” you whispered.
You felt guilty. For a myriad of reasons. First, that you had hid the truth from Bob for so long. That he had to find out from Hangman of all people. Every time you thought of how broken and devastated he had looked that night on the patio you disintegrated into tears.
You also felt guilty for letting Bradley take care of you. After everything that the two of you had gone through, he stepped up. While Nat took care of Bob, Bradley took care of you. He coordinated with Natasha to get an overnight bag packed, he tried to entertain you all day and keep your mind off of Bob and the fight. But still, when you went to bed in Bradley’s guest room, you couldn’t sleep.
So you pulled out your phone to call Bob again. You had called him five times already and left him a dozen messages. All unanswered. The clock in the upper right hand corner of the screen said it was after midnight, but you didn’t care.
You hit his contact and waited. Just as you were about to hang up, you heard a voice. “Hello?”
You almost choked. “Bobby.”
There was a pause. And then, “Reid. I can’t do this right now.”
“Wait!” You cleared your throat, trying to will away the lump that had taken up residence there. “Honey please. I just, I needed to hear your voice.”
He sighed. “Well you heard it.”
A sob rose in your throat. “I know you hate me,” you whispered hoarsely, “and I don’t blame you. I’m sorry, Bobby. I hope you know that no matter what, I love you.”
“I don’t hate you,” Bob said quietly, his voice low and slow and it felt like in a dream when something you were chasing was just out of reach. “I just can’t believe you hid this from me. I thought after everything, that you’d at least be honest with me. I’ve always been honest with you.”
A tear slid down your cheek and you let it blaze a path toward your chin. “I’m sorry.”
“I have to go,” Bob said and your heart constricted in your chest. “I’ll let you know tomorrow if I want to talk.”
“Okay.” You didn’t hang up. “I miss you, Bobby.”
Bob let out another sigh. This one sounded dejected. “You’re at Bradley’s? You’re OK?”
You nodded. “I’m here. I’m alright, given the circumstances.”
A pause. “Goodnight, Sunny.”
You closed your eyes, letting the tears stream down your cheeks. “Goodnight, Bobby. I love you.”
And then the line went dead.
You laid there for a few minutes in tears, before sitting up. Bradley or Natasha or whoever had packed your overnight bag had included a rather skimpy pajama set that you were now wearing and you shivered.
Quietly, you tiptoed out of the guest room into the hallway. The light near the kitchen was on and you entered the kitchen toward the back of the house.
Bradley had his head in the fridge and when he closed it he jumped. “Fuck!”
You stood a foot away, nonplussed.
He leaned back, resting against the kitchen counter, shaking his head. “Reid, you scared the shit out of me.” Bradley looked at the clock on the microwave. “It’s late, what are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Bradley sighed. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of gray boxers. You stepped closer until the two of you were only a foot apart. Maybe it was the emotions coursing through your veins. Or the fact that you had time on your mind. Or that you were seeking comfort.
Either way, you looked up at Bradley before slotting yourself between his legs, pressing your body against his, tilting your head up for a kiss. You felt him stir in his boxers against your stomach.
“Reid.” Bradley pressed his hands against the tops of your arms, pushing you away softly, air rushing between your bodies. “Don’t do this. I know you’re upset and sad and confused, but this isn’t going to help anything. It’ll only make things worse.”
He was right. You knew that he was right. It’s why you sagged against him as he pulled you into a hug, your tears soaking the front of his shirt, Bradley’s large embrace grounding you, absorbing your shakes and sobs.
Bradley held you in the kitchen as you cried. And once your well of tears was empty, he led you softly to the couch. “Reid,” he said quietly. “You gotta tell us what’s going on. All of it. So we can help you.”
You closed your eyes tightly. When you opened them, Bradley stared back at you expectantly. He should have hated you. He should have wanted you out of his life after you had toyed with him and then hung him out to dry. Instead, he had taken you in. They all had.
They deserved to know.
You opened your mouth and sighed. The truth came out. All of it. And you watched tears gather in Bradley’s eyes. He leaned forward, his hands clasped around your smaller ones. When you were finished, he wiped away the tears that had gathered on his lashes.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling you into a hug.
You nodded against his chest. “So am I.”
***
Watching Bob grieve for Denver had been one of the hardest things you’d ever done. More difficult than leaving Bridgeport. More difficult than almost flunking out your first year of college because you hadn’t been able to properly balance work and play.
Watching as your best friend grieved the loss of a woman he spent every day with, a person he trusted with his life, almost broke you.
You held his hand in silence at her funeral, Bob’s eyes misting behind his glasses, his cap perched on his head. You stood next to him in a black shift dress as he wore his service dress uniform, his legs shaky, your heart dropped in your stomach.
It was Bob who stepped forward and presented Denver’s parents with a perfectly folded flag.
You watched as he nodded and spoke quietly with the other aviators at the memorial service. You watched carefully when he excused himself from a conversation with Omaha and Fritz, slipping out the back door. A few minutes later, you followed him, finding Bob sitting on a bench facing the hills, his head in his hands.
Instinctively, you sat down next to him, wrapping your hand around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whispered quietly.
When he looked up at you, your heart snapped in half. His eyes were ringed with red, his face blotchy, his nose running. “It should have been me,” he whispered. “That should be me in there, in a casket. Not her.”
“You can’t say that.”
“But it’s true. She was the better aviator. She knew exactly what she was doing.” He hung his head. “She was protecting me.”
“You both did everything you could,” you replied softly, running one hand through the hair at the base of his neck. “She loved you. She wanted you to be safe.”
He raised his eyes to yours. “How can I keep going when she’s not here?” he asked softly. “How do you just keep living?”
“I don’t know,” you replied. “You just do. Because if you don’t, then everything she did to save you was wasted. Do you think that’s what she would want? Wouldn’t Denver want her death to mean something?”
He nodded, tears dripping down onto his slacks. You scratched your nails down his back in calming circles. “No, I guess not.”
You rested your head on his shoulder. In the distance, the sun was starting its descent toward the horizon, blurring the whole sky in orange. You closed your eyes, sinking in the feeling of Bob’s warmth under your cheek.
Thankful that he had been the one to come home.
“I love you, Bobby,” you whispered.
“I love you too, Sunny,” he replied quietly.
The two of you sat there, side-by-side, gazing out at the sunset. He was held together with tape and glue. And you were his rock.
***
On the third day after the incident, Bob reached out via Phoenix. Bradley grabbed his phone off the counter, answering it in a swift motion, nodding along. He turned around, catching your eye. “We’ll be there in ten.”
He hung up. You held your breath.
“He’s ready to talk.”
The fifteen steps from Bradley’s car to the front door felt like an eternity. Only a few weeks ago, the three of you had been arguing on the cement driveway and you had gone inside and slept with Bob for the first time.
So much had changed in such a little amount of time.
Everything was different.
You looked at the front door. It was a normal front door, but it felt like you were about to breach an impenetrable force field. Bradley looked at you from where he stood at your side. “Are you OK?” he asked.
You looked up at him. He had been so good to you. Too good, arguably. You nodded, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek softly, squeezing his hand at his side. “Thank you, Brad. For everything.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
You sucked in a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
A moment later, the door swung open. Phoenix answered, wearing a pair of jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her face tight. Bob appeared behind her, his head slightly dipped. She opened the door wide and you slipped inside into the foyer.
“We’ll give you guys some space,” she said, grabbing her keys from the table by the door, nodding to Bob. “Talk to you later, Floyd.”
He nodded back at her and she walked through the doorway. Bradley lingered for a moment, his eyes on you. You smiled at him. “I’ll text you, OK?”
He looked at Bob, and then back at you before finally agreeing. “Alright. See you later.”
And then he was gone. Bob moved forward, shutting the door behind them.
You took a long look at him. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a soft olive green henley shirt, feet bare. His normally slicked hair was soft, falling a bit into his eyes. Your heart ached. All you wanted to do was throw yourself into his arms, feel him hold you tight, tell you it would be alright.
“Hi,” you said softly, putting your duffle bag down on the floor.
“I made coffee,” Bob said, heading for the kitchen. It wasn’t a request or a question. Just a statement. You followed him wordlessly and sat on a bar stool as he poured you a mugful of coffee, adding in heavy cream before you could even ask.
The silence was painful. Normally, silence with Bob was tolerable. Being with him was like an extension of yourself. But this was strained. Unnatural. There was tension.
You wrapped your fingers around the mug and took a sip, sputtering at how hot it was.
“Shit,” you whispered, setting it back down.
“Are you OK?”
You nodded. “I’ll be fine.” When you raised your eyes to his, he was pleading with you.
There was no more time. No more space. No more avoidance.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bob’s blue eyes flooded with tears. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Of course I was going to tell you,” you said softly, fingers trembling as you held onto the sides of the ceramic mug. “I just didn’t know how. We were good, we were happy. And I knew this would ruin everything.”
“But by not telling me, you ruined things.”
A fresh flood of tears pummeled out of your eyes and down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, trying to blink them away.
“Reid,” Bob whispered. “Honey, God, after everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Maybe before I could have understood. But I thought this, us,” he waved his hand between the two of you, “was serious.”
You lifted your gaze to him. “I wanted you to want me for me. Not because you thought I was dying.”
Bob froze. “Reid. Tell me exactly what’s wrong with you.”
You smiled at him softly. Broken. “I have cancer, Bobby. Uterine cancer. It's, well it's not good. The doctors aren't sure how much time I have.”
Bob bent in half, a sob falling from his mouth as he softly crumpled to the ground, his back against the cabinets beneath the sink. You pushed to standing from your bar stool, walking over and crouching down next to him, putting one hand gently on his knee.
“Honey,” you whispered softly. “Bobby, please don’t cry.”
He looked up at you, pushing away the tears from his face with his rough palms. “What does this mean, Sunny?” he asked.
You sank to the ground between his legs, your hands cupping his cheeks. “It means I’m sick, Bobby. And I’m probably not going to get any better.”
Bob pulled you into his arms until the two of you were a mass of tangled limbs and you weren’t sure if his tears were the ones soaking your shirt or if they were yours. He held you for so long that you almost forgot what it was like not to be wrapped in Bob’s embrace. You closed your eyes and waited.
Waited for a break from the grief. But you were waiting for something that simply would never come.
Tag list: (or turn on notifications for my library @ereardonlibrary)
@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav
@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite
@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston
@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @wkndwlff @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @bobfloydsbabe
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#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd x oc#bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd#robert floyd#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick imagine#top gun x oc#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw x oc#friends dont#best friend fic#jake seresin
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For a little, long, while Jake has abcdefu as ringtone for when Bradshaw calls. Javy laughs the first time he hears it but then he realised Bradley calls a lot, like really a lot. On the other hand he always knew his best friend was dumb, so he shouldn't be very surprised by everything.
#abcdefu by GAYLE#jake has point a and b but javy knows he isn't connecting shit#jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw (mentioned)#javy coyote machado#javy is too good of a best friend honestly#jake and bradley are the dumbest dumb dumb people javy had the unluck to met#top gun: maverick#hangstar#rivals to enemies to lovers (still rivals)#rooster x hangman
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#top gun maverick#top gun#glen powell#greg tarzan davis#hangman#coyote#jake seresin#javy machado#best friends#mygifs#top gun maverick cast#bradley bradshaw x reader#pitt#bullet#critics
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Bedside Manner
Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 8K
Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.
It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.
The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.
“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.
Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.
But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.
Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.
All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.
“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.
Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.
Normally.
But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.
“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.
You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.
The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.
You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.
It was supposed to be a fun day.
You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.
There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.
You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.
The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.
The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.
Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.
You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.
Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.
And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.
You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.
He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.
“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.
“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.
And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.
When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.
“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.
You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.
You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.
“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”
You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.
“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.
“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.
“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”
Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.
Respectfully, of course.
Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.
“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.
“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.
You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.
And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.
You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.
And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.
Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.
He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.
Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.
But he’s never made a move.
If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.
You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.
Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.
The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.
The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.
Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.
And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.
You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.
You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.
Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.
The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.
You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.
The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.
Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.
You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.
The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.
For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.
It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.
Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.
And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.
“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.
They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.
It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.
It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.
You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.
There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.
And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.
You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.
As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.
“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.
They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.
Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.
Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.
His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.
You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.
“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.
“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.
“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.
“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.
The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.
And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.
Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.
The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.
Just not like this.
With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.
Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.
Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.
Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”
“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.
“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.
“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.
You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.
She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.
“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.
“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.
You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.
And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.
The two of you silent and motionless.
You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.
His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.
“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.
“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”
Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.
“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.
You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.
“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.
He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.
You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.
All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.
You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.
This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.
You want the Bradley from earlier.
The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.
The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.
You want your Bradley.
The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.
The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.
You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.
For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.
“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”
We.
You wanted that with him.
You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.
The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.
Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.
When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.
“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.
“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.
Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.
“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.
He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.
It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.
He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.
It’s never felt this strained with him before.
It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.
Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.
He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.
He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.
“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.
When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.
“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”
“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.
“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.
You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?
He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.
“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”
“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”
“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.
“Ok, good,” he grumbles.
“Great,” you lob back.
His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.
“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.
“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.
A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”
Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.
You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.
Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.
“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.
“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.
And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.
“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.
He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.
“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.
Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.
“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”
He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.
“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.
The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.
“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”
“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.
Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”
The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.
“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”
“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”
You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.
“Bradley, the light.”
The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.
“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.
“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.
“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.
Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.
He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.
The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.
“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.
The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.
“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”
“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.
He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.
“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.
“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.
He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”
“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.
“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.
Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.
He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.
There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.
“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”
“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”
“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”
“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.
“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.
“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.
“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.
“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.
“Done.”
“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.
“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”
“And then you’ll kiss me?”
“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.
He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.
“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.
“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”
“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”
“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.
You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Guess we will,” he rasps.
Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.
You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.
There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.
You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.
Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.
You’ve got that forever feeling about him.
Oh, oh, oh.
Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.
This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!
The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"
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@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster x female reader
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