#rooster bradshaw fluff
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return to sender
pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader
summary: you’ve been getting your neighbor’s mail for the past few months and you were okay with it, but now came a time to finally talk to him about it
warnings: light swearing, neighbors meet cute, bradley's biceps bc god damn they deserve a warning of their own (2.5k)
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The first time you got someone else’s mail, you didn’t think anything of it. Bradley Bradshaw, it said, 1987 Pennsylvania Court. That was a few doors down from your place, and they were just letters, you could just drop them off in his mailbox the next time you went out. No big deal, it was just one time.
Then one time became twice, which eventually turned into a third, fourth, fifth time, and so on. Letters soon became bigger envelopes, which didn’t actually fit into his mail slot.
So you started dropping them on his doorstep, leaving them for him to find the next time he left the house. Knocking on his door and giving him his mail seemed like it would be too much of an endeavor for your poor social skills, because you’d seen Bradley Bradshaw around from afar sometimes, but you’d never said a word to him. No, he was big and tall and scary looking, and as much as you hated to pass judgment on people you didn’t actually know, probably a jerk.
So yeah, sticking them in his mailbox, leaving them at his door and hightailing it out of there was the best option for everyone. It meant you didn’t have to confront him and tell him that his mail was being sent to the wrong apartment, and he didn’t have to waste his time talking to you. Win win for both of you.
That all went out the window today, when you opened your door to see the biggest box you’d ever laid eyes on sitting on your welcome mat, the mailing address on the top flap spelling out none other than motherfucking Bradley Bradshaw in large, bold letters. Upon trying to lift it, you very quickly found that you couldn’t even get it to budge more than an inch.
Looks like you were going to have to talk to Bradley after all.
After giving yourself a pep talk (and hyping yourself up and going through all the things that could possibly go wrong) you marched your way over to his place, practicing what you were going to say to him the whole way.
You exhaled one last sharp breath through your mouth, licking your lips nervously before knocking on his door, once, twice, a third time. Faint footsteps came from inside, the clicking of the lock a few seconds after, then the door swung open.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for the person standing in front of you. It was Bradley, of course, but up close for the first time. For once, you could see him in his entirety, and holy fuck was he hot. Clad in a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts, he looked unfairly good—a far cry from you in your stretched out leggings and frayed sweatshirt from fucking college. He was tall and broad and tan and about a dozen other words you couldn’t even think of right now, not when all you could do was barely control your reaction to seeing him. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was a ‘loading, please wait’ signal flashing above your head.
His gaze landed on you hovering awkwardly on his doorstep, offering you a polite smile. “Hi, can I help you with something?”
“Hi. I live a few doors down from here and I think there’s been some sort of mistake with the post office, because I’ve been getting your mail for the past few months.” You blurted, pressing your lips together right after the words left your mouth. Way to ease into it, loser!
Bradley’s eyebrow’s furrowed, mouth turning down into a confused sort of frown. “Uh…no, I don’t think so? My mail’s been getting here just fine everyday.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been dropping it off in your mailbox every time I get it.”
His eyes widened, mouth dropping open the tiniest bit in…was that shock? Surprise? Possibly guilt? Maybe a mixture of all three. “Shit, really?” You nodded. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t even—I didn’t notice.”
Honestly, you were expecting him to be a dick about it, but here he was, apologizing for something that he couldn’t have even known was happening all this time. It was throwing you for a loop, because you’d built him up in your head to be kinda mean and scary, but he was actually really nice.
“Um. It’s—it’s okay. Just thought I should let you know.”
“I guess I should be thanking you then.” He smiled warmly, and you had to fight the urge to turn tail and run. Bradley Bradshaw had the kind of smile that had the power to throw your whole plan out the window.
See, you’d banked this entire interaction on him being an asshole. You’d tell him to come get his package, he’d do it, somehow fix the whole mail delivery problem, and then you’d never have to talk to him again. Problems solved, no reason for you to have to take this any further.
Except he wasn’t an asshole at all, which made you feel like an asshole.
“I’m Bradley, by the way,” He offered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Which you already knew, ‘cause you’ve been getting my mail for months. I never got your name though?”
“Y/N.” You replied, shifting your weight to your other foot. He repeated it, bobbing his head in acknowledgment. Hearing your name come off his lips was…well, the only way you could describe it was weird. It sounded somehow better than you’d heard it come out of anyone else’s mouth. “Right, so that’s not actually what I came over here for. Well, it was to tell you about the mail thing, but also something else. You’ve got a giant package.” Your face burned lava hot as you realized what you said and what it sounded like you were saying (two very different things, by the way).
Bradley coughed abruptly, choking on his own breath at your words. He pounded on his chest a few times to recover before speaking. “I’m sorry?”
“Your mail—a really big box. Sent to my apartment. Again!” You exclaimed, attempting to salvage your dignity and this downhill spiraling conversation. You could see Bradley was trying to keep his composure so as to not make you feel any more mortified than he could clearly see you were, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He’d brought up a hand to rub at his mustache, effectively covering most of his mouth, but the beginnings of a smirk curled the edges of it, his eyes glinting in barely contained amusement at your blunder. “There’s a giant box that belongs to you on my doorstep and I can’t move it, so can you just…”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come grab it.” He nodded quickly, grabbing his keys and stepping outside. He shut the door behind him, gesturing for you to go first. “Lead the way.”
You started the walk back to your place in dead silence, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t have to say anything to Bradley. You’d rather stew in your own humiliation and impending misery than initiate another conversation. Or think about how attractive he was, but that was besides the point. Totally, completely irrelevant.
It was going pretty well, but then, he spoke. “So, when did you move into your place? I can’t say that I’ve seen you around here much.”
He was trying to make small talk, you could tell. Probably to avoid having to dwell on the very awkward situation from moments prior. And as much as you didn’t want to make any more of a fool out of yourself than you already had, it would’ve been rude not to answer.
“Been here a few years. I keep to myself mostly though.” Mainly to avoid situations like this.
“Ah yeah, I’m usually not here too often. My job takes me a lot of different places, so I’m typically gone for months at a time.” He replied casually, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Long business trips?”
“Sorta. I’m Navy. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, naval aviator—at your service.” Navy, interesting. Now you were wondering how those broad shoulders fit into a jet.
“So you zoom around in the skies for a living?”
“It’s a little more than that, but yeah, pretty much,” He snorted, said broad shoulders shaking with laughter. Damnit, even his laugh was endearing. It was getting harder and harder for you to justify making this thing with Bradley a one off. “Maybe I could take you up in my jet one day, give you a taste of what flying free feels like.”
Was he…flirting with you right now?
You finally looked at him, raising a curious eyebrow. “Really?”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s extremely against the rules. I can’t do that, I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.” Bradley admitted, offering you a rather embarrassed smile.
You didn’t know how to respond to that, but good thing you’d arrived back at your place right at that minute, the huge box on your doormat instantly distracting him.
“No way! I’ve been waiting for this thing for ages!” He exclaimed, squatting down to run his hand along the cardboard. He turned to you, eyes alight with pure joy. “You wanna know what it is?”
You didn’t feel like you really needed to know, but from the way Bradley was beaming at you, you found yourself actually growing a little interested. “What is it?”
“This fancy new coffee machine one of my buddies has been raving about. Apparently it’s supposed to brew like, the best coffee ever. I really think he might be exaggerating a bit, but Hangman’s fairly reliable when it comes to cool things.”
Your brow raised in curiosity. “Hangman?”
“His callsign. Mine’s Rooster.” Weird, but somehow it seemed very fitting.
Bradley hefted the box into his arms with ease, resting it on a raised knee as he attempted to get his arms around it. His biceps bulged with the effort, and you had to make a conscious effort to avert your gaze. God, those things had to be bigger than your head.
“Thank you again for dropping off my mail all this time, you really didn’t have to.” He said earnestly, fighting another smirk. Oh, he definitely caught you looking.
“I didn’t mind.” You replied quickly, feeling your face grow warm again. “Thought they might be important things. Naval aviator paperwork, maybe.”
“Right. Well, I’ll let you get on with your day,” Bradley chuckled. He shifted the box a little higher up in his arms, and you looked anywhere else to stop your eyes slipping to his flexing biceps yet again. “But hey, if you ever wanted to chat or hang out or something since we’re neighbors, feel free to swing by. We could try out this coffee machine, see if it’s worth the fortune I spent on it.”
You hesitated in your response. You knew it wasn’t anything serious, just some coffee between two neighbors, but the weight of it hung heavy in the air. Did you really want to make this more than a one time thing?
Bradley was really goddamn nice, and as pathetic as it might’ve sounded, just that was enough to make your answer lean towards yes. But he didn’t need to know that yet. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to pressure you for a response right this very minute, so you just nodded.
“I’ll keep that in mind. It was nice to meet you, Rooster.” You were slightly teasing him about his callsign, but it didn’t look like he minded one bit. One side of his mouth lifted into a smile, dimples on full display.
“Call me Bradley,” He insisted, brown eyes not unlike the coffee he was offering up boring into yours. “Please.”
“Okay. Bradley.” He looked pleased at that. “See you around, I guess.”
“I sure hope so.”
-------
It was weird how frequently you did start to see Bradley around after that. You’d stopped getting his mail, but sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of him through your window on one of his daily runs, and a lot of the time you somehow left the house or came home at the same time, which resulted in more conversations with each other.
He’d always go out of his way to say hi or good morning to you when he spotted you, even if you had your head down or your earbuds in, and one time he even scared the living shit out of you by tapping your shoulder when you were looking for your car keys in your bag. Turns out you’d somehow dropped them near his car (which you didn’t even know was his car), and he was on his way out too when he spotted them.
Things like this happened so often, you began to get used to Bradley. Talking to him became easier, less nerve wracking. It got to a point where you even started to look forward to seeing him out and about, because your interactions always ended up leaving you in a better mood. He was funny, charismatic as hell, and definitely easy on the eyes, and as much as you were afraid to admit it at first, you started to like him a little more than you knew you should’ve. Part of you thought that he might like you too, but you just weren’t sure.
Yeah, he was a little flirty with you, but you just chalked that up to it being part of his personality. No way he was actually serious about it. That was just who Bradley Bradshaw was.
Or so you thought.
The answer to your wonders came in the form of a stack of your mail in your mailbox one day a few weeks after the whole giant package fiasco. There was a sticky note attached to the top one, a message scrawled across the paper in small, messy letters.
These were mixed in with my mail today. My my, how the tables have turned. Here’s my number in case the post office decides to make this a new thing. - Bradley
You had to hand it to him—Bradley sure knew how to make his mark. You smiled to yourself, phone in hand, fingers entering his number and tapping out a message before you could even take a second to dwell on it.
y/n: that offer for coffee still on the table by any chance?
You set it face down on the kitchen counter the moment after you pressed send, walking away from it like that would quell your nerves as you waited for Bradley’s response. But really, what was the likelihood that he was going to see your message in the next—
Ding.
It was pathetic how fast you bolted back to the kitchen to snatch up your phone.
Bradley: Absolutely. Tomorrow at noon sound okay?
y/n: sounds perfect
Unbeknownst to you, Bradley had also been waiting anxiously for your text, digging his phone out of his pocket the second he felt it buzz, hoping his not-so-subtle way of slipping you his number wasn't too forward of him. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that stretched his lips as his eyes read your text over and over again. It would be perfect.
Now if he could only figure out how to actually work the goddamn coffee machine, it would be even better.
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Sereshaw? Sereshaw 💞💕
#jake seresin#hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin smut#jake seresin fluff#sereshaw#glen powell smut#glen powell#rooster bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw smut#miles teller top gun#miles teller smut#miles teller#top gun 1986#top gun maverick#top gun movie#top gun#hangman top gun#rooster top gun#top gun 2#top gun hangman#top gun rooster#top gun smut#i love pretty boys#pretty boys#they pretty
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into gold II {rooster bradshaw}
synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.
characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)
or- the one where scout falls for Frankie before she falls for rooster.
word count- 2400+
read part 1 here
When Rooster allows himself a couple of rare moments to reflect on Sunday morning, it’s easy to feel blue about the state of all things. But then Frankie will tell him a joke she heard at school:
-What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?
I haven’t the faintest idea, Frankie.
-Thunderpants!
Or she’ll hand him a photo she drew of him in his… F/A-18? Or she’ll curl into his side in front of the television and fall asleep. And he'll know then, without a doubt, that he is the luckiest man in the world. He’s reminded of this fact as he rolls to a halt in front of Penny’s house. The beautiful sound of Frankie’s laughter floats in on the breeze through the Bronco’s open windows and makes him smile. He watches sheer joy bloom on her face as Maverick plays with her in the front yard, and something heavy tugs on his heartstrings.
You should be here, dad.
Rooster exits the car to lean against the passenger door, not wanting to ruin their moment just yet.
“Papa!”
Frankie catches sight of her father and bolts from Maverick’s embrace to run into Rooster’s outstretched arms, and he reckons there’s no better feeling in the universe. He holds her to him, peppering the top of her head with dozens of kisses.
“Hi papa,” Frankie’s cheeks are rosy and she’s breathless from play.
“Hi Frankie. Did you miss me?”
She nods fervently, circling her tiny arms tighter around him.
“But you had fun with Mav and Penny, right?”
Frankie nods again.
“Well, well, well. You certainly look like you had a good weekend.” Maverick surveys the sight of Rooster with a wry smile.
The younger pilot laughs sheepishly and scratches at the back of his head. “There’s a reason I never really go out with those guys anymore.”
Maverick’s laughter is booming. “You deserved it, kid.” His gaze drifts to Frankie’s and he bends down to her level. “Go see Pen about some cookies before you leave, Frank. She just made a batch of fresh ones.”
Frankie squeezes Rooster’s hand and dashes off in the direction of the front door.
“You bringing her down to the beach?” Maverick asks.
Rooster nods. “Dogfight football Sundays are her favourite. Will we see you there?”
“Penny and I wouldn’t miss it.” Maverick affirms.
His expression is unreadable; Rooster gets the feeling he’s about to ask him something, when Frankie bursts from the house, her tiny hands laden with two bulging Ziploc bags of homemade chocolate chunk cookies.
“Looks like you won the jackpot, Frank.” Rooster muses and watches her place the cookies carefully into her green dinosaur backpack. “Well, we should probably head out sweetheart. Did you thank Mav and Penny for hanging out with you this weekend?”
The elder pilot bends down so that Frankie can wrap her arms around his neck. “We had a good time didn’t we, Frank?”
“Yeah Mav!” She grins and plants a sloppy kiss on his stubbled cheek.
“Don’t get too carried away with your goodbyes, Frank. Mav and Penny are meeting us at the beach in a little bit.”
Rooster watches her beautiful blue eyes widen in sheer delight.
“Dogfight football!” She squeals and doesn’t waste a second before jumping into the back of the waiting Bronco.
~
“You’re late, Bradshaw!” Jake yells an hour later and is about to rib him some more, but he falters when he notices Frankie in tow behind him. “Well, if it ain't Frank the Tank!” He jogs to where they’re standing and gathering her into his arms, spins her around in dizzying cirlces. The girlish trill of her laughter fills the humid saltwater air around them.
Rooster marvels at how well Jake does with children and reckons with a wry smile, that perhaps there’s still hope for the elder pilot yet.
“I’m wearing the boots you got me!” Frankie exclaims, excitedly.
Jake bends down to get a good look at the fire-engine red cowboy boots he had picked up for her on his last trip home to Austin.
“So you are, and might I add that they have never looked more stunning on anyone else before.”
Frankie’s cheeks glow pink- she’s about to say something else when she notices Scout a little way beyond the crowd and her eyes widen in delighted surprise.
“Miss Wallis!”
Scout’s eyes light up when she catches sight of her, and she raises a hand in greeting. “Hi Frankie!”
Rooster hadn’t considered her being there; figures that if he had known, he might have thought twice about coming. Especially with Frankie.
“What on Earth are you doing at dogfight football, Miss Wallis?” Frankie’s chest heaves from running through the sand to get to her.
Scout catches Rooster’s gaze for a second and he remembers instantly, the feeling of her hand in his two nights ago and how it felt like he’d known her for years instead of a mere couple of hours, and it’s all he can do not to gather Frankie in his arms and take her back home.
To spare them both heartache that would ensue sooner or later.
“Well, a little birdie flew by and told me that there was going to be a football game on the beach today, and I figured maybe I should drop by to cheer everyone on. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a good idea, Miss Wallis. Can we do it together?”
“I’d like that, Frankie.” Scout beams widely and holds out her hand for Frankie to take, which she accepts happily.
Despite the girls' enthusiastic cheering, a grueling hour passes beneath the relentless San Diego sun, and Rooster (out of breath and embarrassingly sunburnt) is the first to admit that he’s played better games. Jake and Coyote take turns teasing him mercilessly about it, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off Scout and Frankie gallivanting up and down the beach like a couple of old friends. Frankie picks out shells and rocks that strike her fancy, and Scout drops them into the pockets of her sundress for safe keeping.
When Frankie catches up with Rooster and Penny a mile down the beach, she’s breathless with triumph. “You’ll never guess how many shells I found, Papa. Look at this one,” She whispers and opens her tiny palm to reveal a miniscule, speckled cowrie shell.
“That’s a pretty cool one, Frank. You'll have to add it it to your collection." Rooster eyes Scout’s dress, which had been knee-length thirty minutes ago, and was now hanging around her ankles, the hem of it damp from sand and saltwater. "Did you thank Miss Wallis for hanging onto them for you?”
“I did, Papa. Can I go show some of my shells to Bob and Phoenix?” Rooster nods and watches Frankie bound away, her red boots kicking up a sandstorm as she disappears down the beach.
Scout clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s why they make these dresses with such deep pockets.”
Rooster turns to her then; wishes for a moment that fate had intervened seven years earlier, instead of two days ago.
There’s no such thing as ‘right person, wrong time’ Bradley. The right person will never come along at the wrong time.
He hears his mother’s voice so clearly some days, it’s as if she’s still around somewhere.
“I never got to thank you for Friday night.” Scout finally offers.
Rooster frowns. “What for?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a fantastic rendition of a Jerry Lee Lewis song. It’s like you were born to play it.”
Rooster muses at how close she came to the mark. “I don’t have very many memories of childhood before the age of six, but my old man used to love that song.” They wander back to the group of pilots and significant others that had elected to stay after the game for the bonfire.
Jake's busy tossing the football back and forth to Coyote, but when he notices Scout, he winks and asks, "How'd I look out there, Wallis?"
She’s about to respond but Phoenix beats her to it, her tone deapan. “Like a magnet for melanoma, Bagman.”
A chorus of laughter erupts, and all Jake can do is roll his eyes and say, “It seems we have a comedian in our midst, friends.”
“You looked a picture of unbridled athleticism, honey.” Scout giggles by way of putting the flames out, and drops into a seat next to Maverick.
Rooster takes this opportunity to introduce the two. “Maverick, this is Scout Wallis. She just so happens to be Frankie's teacher."
The delicate creases next to the elder pilot’s eyes deepen as he offers her a wide beam. “So, it’s you we have to thank for the plethora of silly jokes Frankie likes to tell us.”
Scout’s cheeks redden before she offers a sheepish shrug. “It turns out that in the state of California, bad jokes are a prerequisite for primary schoolteachers.”
Maverick’s laugh is hearty and booming, but when it subsides, his expression is thoughtful. “In all seriousness though, you’re doing a wonderful job with her.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Captain. Frankie is a dream to have in the classroom.”
If Maverick wonders how Scout knew to refer to him by his naval rank, he makes no mention of it. Rooster, however, does wonder. He's about to ask her about it when Penny leans over and says, “You were at the Hard Deck on Friday night, weren’t you?”
Oh shit.
Maverick’s eyebrows rise in mild amusement.
“I was yeah,” Scout admits. “I had the pleasure of a very special performance.” She winks at Rooster who fights the urge to drop his gaze.
“Let me guess, he hit you with the old tried and true, Great Balls of Fire?”
“He sure did,” Penny laughs. “Had the whole bar in a tizzy.”
“His dad used to play that song on the piano like his life depended on it.” Maverick murmurs, by way of explanation.
Rooster could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes of hers again, and where he had never easily shared any part of himself with Frankie’s mother, he was struck suddenly by the want to share every part of himself with Scout. This notion made him uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons; least not of which was because his best friend, who seemed just as crazy about her as he was, was only a couple of feet away.
“I take it there’s history between the two of you?” Scout's voice shatters the muddled silence.
Rooster laughs and glances sideways at the surrogate-father figure before him. “Yeah, something like that.”
The night unfolds the way in which Sunday nights often do for Rooster and Frankie: with an abundance of friends and family, the warm salty air a salve for their souls. Frankie and Scout take a couple of turns throwing the football back and forth; Rooster notices the spiral Scout has on her and grows even more bewitched by the woman before him. When she’s had enough for the night, she drops into a seat next to Penny, their quiet chatter a soothing comparison to the hoots and hollers of the pilots around them.
A little while later, Frankie (exhausted from the day’s events, and with a stomach full of sparkling water and hotdogs) wanders over to where Scout’s seated, climbs onto her lap, and promptly falls asleep. Rooster watches Scout’s arms instinctively circle his daughter’s slumbering figure, and a chunk of ice the size of texas chips away from his heart. With a slight pang, he knows their time to leave has arrived.
“You’ll be hard-pressed to pry them apart, Bradshaw.” Jake’s Southern drawl is thicker under the weight of the couple of beers he had under his belt.
“Don’t I know it.” Rooster sighs and pushes himself from his seat to wander over to where Frankie and Scout are. He drops down into the sand in front of Frankie to rub the flat of his palm over her small back.
“Is it time to go?” Scout whispers.
Rooster nods and waits a second for Frankie to stir. “Come on Frank, it’s time to go home to bed.”
His daughter opens her eyes, her expression stupefied from the weight of sleep. “I don’t want to, Papa.” She pleads.
Rooster kisses the top of her head. “I know, sweetheart, but it's time.” She lets him lift her into his arms without any more fuss. It only takes a second before he feels the steady rise and fall of her chest against his shoulder to know that she’s back to sleep. He turns to Scout, not wanting to say goodbye but accepting the inevitable. “It was a pleasure seeing you again today.”
Scout gazes up at him. “The pleasure was all mine, Rooster. She’s a great kid.”
It’s only after they’ve returned home for the evening, Frankie tucked into bed, and his own eyelids fighting the lulling tug of sleep that he remembers Frankie’s precious shells. He makes a mental note to text Jake about them tomorrow. He lets his mind drift back to that wondrous woman before sleep settles in for good; wonders again how she knew Maverick’s rank, and how she possesses an ease to military life that most civilians don’t usually have.
Maverick stops by the next morning for coffee before Frankie’s awake for the day.
“There’s something going on between you and Frankie’s teacher.” His tone is mild and lacks any accusation.
“Well you certainly are direct this morning, aren’t you?” Rooster takes a deep sip from his mug, savoring the slightly bitter taste of the roasted beans on his tongue, before he answers no.
Maverick shifts in his chair. “But you’d like there to be?”
Rooster hesitates before nodding.
“You have to tread carefully here, kid. Frankie’s crazy about her.”
And so is Jake Seresin.
“Yeah well, Jake beat me to it, so there isn’t much else to say.”
Maverick’s viridian gaze twinkles knowingly in the light pouring in through the kitchen window, giving his head an almost imperceptible half-shake. “The feeling was mutual, Rooster. Everyone knew it.”
They sit in silence for a moment before Rooster asks, “Did you wonder how she knew to call you Captain? You weren’t wearing anything that gave you away.”
Maverick finishes the rest of his coffee and sets the mug down against the wooden tabletop. “What did you say her last name was?”
“Wallis.”
“She teaches at Mason elementary?”
Rooster nods.
Maverick shifts again in his seat and closes his eyes as if he were sifting through a mental rolodex of memories. “I believe her husband was top of his class at NAS Fallon in 2016. A truly great fighter pilot.”
Rooster blanches. “She's married?”
Maverick grows somber. “He died in enemy combat almost five years ago now.”
#rooster bradshaw#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw x oc#top gun#top gun: maverick#tgm#miles teller#into gold#writing#fluff#rooster bradshaw fluff
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Endless Love (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw) - Chapter 1
summary - Y/N Y/L/N and Bradley Bradshaw have had a rivalry ever since they both attended the same academy. Every chance they took, they always tried to one up each other. One day, Bradley takes the rivalry too far and Y/N ends up in the hospital with serious injuries. Will it make Y/N want to get him back twice as worse? Or will it make her realise that this rivalry between them is childish?
warnings - swearing, enemies to lovers, mention of serious injury, traumatic episodes, reader traumatised from what happened, smut, slowburn, seizures, flashbacks
a/n - hiya girliesss! this is my very FIRST series on here! i rlly hope u guys like it! enjoyyyyyy! xx
Bradley Bradshaw and I have always had a rivalry since we were at the academy. I think I'm better than him, he thinks he's better than me. However, on paper, we were just as good as each other. Same scores on all tests and practical tests. Same amount of medals. Same amount of almost everything. I realised that, but wanted to change the fact that we were the same. Because I earned my place at Top Gun. I literally flew from Greater Manchester to San Diego for Top Gun! I had to work hard enough for the money, enough money for the ticket, visa, small shitty apartment, furniture. Everything.
When I was talking to Cyclone the other day - because of an argument that me and Rooster had - he said that we were actually quite alike. I scoffed at the idea. How could me and Bradshaw me similar? I completely disagreed with Cyclone and voiced my opinions, knowing what the consequences of opposing my superior, but to my shock he respected me for standing up to him as not many people do these days. His words, not mine.
It was now the first official day at Top Gun, well, not really, but everyone was going to be at the Hard Deck to meet each other and celebrate that we got into Top Gun, the best of the best.
I was one of the last to arrive (shit traffic) and my eyes immediately found another female aviator. Thank fucking God. So glad I'm not the only one. I confidently walked over and introduced myself.
"Hi, I'm Vandal. But you can call me Y/N." I stick my hand out for her to shake and I can tell she is just as relieved as me to not be the only woman here.
"Phoenix, but you can call me Nat." She had a confident smile on her face.
She told me everyone's names, Hangman (who she calls Bagman to piss him off), Coyote (basically Hangman's ass kisser, Nat's words not mine), Fanboy, Payback, Bob and then she pointed to the person I disliked most in the world, Bradshaw. Great, I knew he was coming to Top Gun because he tried to shove it in my face when he found out, but I just wish he wasn't here right now. Phoenix obviously saw the way I rolled my eyes with a groan.
"What? You don't like the pornstache?" She has a smirk on her face as she points over to Bradshaw who is most definitely locking lips with some poor blonde girl who thinks he's into her for more than sex.
"Well, on top of that, we went to the same academy. He was a total prick. But so was I. In a way, we kind of have a rivalry going on. About who is better than who." Phoenix raised a brow as she listened.
"Oh so you're the 'British bitch' he's always complaining about!" Phoenix has a happy but surprised look on her face.
"British bitch? He needs some originality with insults." I roll my eyes as my gaze finds Bradshaw, as per, picking up girls after ditching the blonde. Guess he got bored of her.
"Why do you two have that rivalry anyway? I've asked Rooster about it but he never actually answers it." I roll my eyes again and sigh.
"Because we both can't put up with being the same, one of us has to be on top. It best be me though, I don't like coming second." I cross my arms as I glare at Bradshaw. I hate him. Why can't he just put up with being second? I mean, I had to most my life until I joined the academy, so it mustn't be that hard.
"Seems you're quite the competitive one." Phoenix has a smirk on her face as she crosses her arms. "Want a game of pool? Heard Bagman is 'undefeated' so I really hope you can burst his ego."
My ears immediately perk up at the mention of a competition. especially someone who is 'undefeated.' Not for any longer though.
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"Oh come on! Beginners luck!" Hangman couldn't deal with the fact that someone actually beat him at pool, let alone a female. I smirk at him as I have just potted the winning ball.
"Come on Jake, you gotta just deal with finally being beaten." I raise a brow, my smirk growing bigger as Hangman's anger is seeping from him.
"What about a game of darts? Closest to... 180 wins." Hangman sticks out his hand for me to shake, I fake thinking about it for a second before eagerly shaking his hand.
"Ladies first." Hangman gestures for me to stand in front of the dart board.
"Age before beauty." I gesture for him to stand there, he stood in front of the dart board in defeat. He threw all 3 darts and scored 175. Now its my turn.
I take a deep breath and focus. I threw my first dart. It landed on a triple 20! Now I just have to get two more. I threw my second dart, landed on a triple 20 again. I could hear Hangman groan. Which only made my confidence grow. I threw my last dart. It landed on another triple 20!
"That's 180 Hangman! I win!" I had a triumphant smirk on my face as Hangman has all but defeat in his eyes.
"Aww don't be so upset Hangman, you're still second best." I had an evil smirk as Phoenix can't help but laugh.
"How? No one and I mean no one has ever beaten me at darts!" Hangman runs a hand through his hair as he gets a better look at the dart board to see if one of my darts was just close enough to the area above or below it. They weren't.
"Guess because I wasn't here." I pat him on his back and gesture to the bartender if I could get two more beers. One for me and one for Hangman.
"Here Bagman, to make you feel better." I giggle as I pass him the beer.
The rest of the night went by like a breeze. Hangman demanding a rematch every 10 minutes, me and Phoenix gossiping, Fanboy, Payback and Coyote playing pool, Bob sat near the wall nearly out of sight, and Bradshaw, at the piano with another girl on his lap as he sings Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis.
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ahhh maybe 21 with rooster? 21- Having your lover list everything they're insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.
21. Having your lover list everything they’re insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.
Nonny, I'm writing this after a few drinks, so my mind is wild. Trying to keep it above board tho. Ladies' night, cock talk, dancing, drinks. Rough thots. All those cheeky things you may talk about when out with your mates. Then fluffy stuff. Enjoy x
Hearing the front door open and a few choice curse words, Rooster chuckled quietly to himself, pausing the game. Not too concerned, he already knew his Phillies won, but it was nice to watch the game in peace. "Baby, you good?" he called.
"Oh, you're still up."
"Have the weekend off, I'm ragin', babydoll," he joked. Hearing a thud, he cringed and asked again if you were okay.
"I'm good," you confirmed. He heard the sound of items hitting the wall - two, your heels, he bet - and you appeared a moment later, hair wildly sexy, eyes a little bloodshot and a wide grin on your face. "Hi, gorgeous."
He raised an eyebrow, giving you his attention. "Hi, babydoll. How was your night?" he bit back a grin.
"Really good," you told him.
"Lots of dancing?"
"Yeah. My feet are aching. My back is completely out of alignment from those heels."
"I could have come and got you," he reminded you.
"Shared an Uber with the girls. I knew you wanted to watch the game, it's all good."
"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes watching you move towards him. "Catch up on all the gossip?"
"We don't gossip, we state facts."
"My apologies," he laughed. "Dick talk?"
"Always. Yours reigns supreme, baby and everyone knows it."
Rooster winked. "As they should."
"But they will never really know."
"No," he agreed. "Only you."
"I'm very, very lucky," you told him with a grin.
"I'm glad to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice a little rougher as he tried to keep his amusement to himself. "You can keep stroking my ego though. If you want to, of course," he begged, teasingly.
"You stroke your own ego just fine, Bradshaw."
He shrugged modestly. Who was he to argue?
You laughed, stretching. "You want me to wax lyrical about your cock?"
"Haiku form, please?" he demanded, knowing the impossible wasn't about to happen.
"Okay, lemme try..." you inhaled, trying to remember what the fuck a haiku was. Bradley chewed his lip, trying not to lose it. You weren't drunk, nowhere near it, but you were certainly looser than usual. He loved that for you. You didn't go out with your friends as often as you should, and knew you revelled in nights just like this. "Okay, okay," you grinned. "Ready? I think I got this."
"I don't think you do, but be my guest, baby," he watched you take the floor.
"Rooster is his name," you counted the five syllables on your fingers, he licked his lips, actually about to lose it. "And he has a six-foot frame. And nine inches hard."
He cackled. "You are insane, I'm very impressed," he stood up and greeted you with a warm kiss. "You tell everyone you meet about the nine inches, right?" he teased.
"I rounded up," you reminded him. He didn't argue but pouted anyway. It wasn't a generous roundup and the locker room gifted his Rooster for it. "But usually I don't even offer a name. Just tell everyone my sexy naval aviator husband has a huge cock. You wouldn't believe how many often I am asked how I'm walking straight," you reminded him.
"All right, all right," he laughed, his dimples deep and bold. "People don't need to hear anything after nine inches, baby."
"Bradley Bradshaw, you are so full of yourself."
"Sure am, I'm the 1%. I got it all. Perfect partner, perfect house, perfect job - " he paused. Your glare told him he was incorrect. "Even if you don't agree and I'm away far too long," he held his palms up and rested them on your shoulders, leaning down to kiss you and whispered, "Sorry, I give, I give. Did you eat?"
"We ate, still hungry though. Did you leave any pizza?" you asked hopefully, as he hoisted you into his arms and fell back against the couch, you perched perfectly on his lap.
"Of course."
"You're the perfect man."
He scoffed, knowing how untrue it was. "Thank you, but you know I'm not."
You kissed him and kissed him thoroughly. He was a tender kisser, or at least knew that was how you needed it. "I missed you, lover. I love being with my friends, but this is so much better. Don't tell them though."
"Never, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me," he pressed a kiss between your brows. "You look very sexy."
"My feet hurt, my back hurts, I think my make up is melting like The Joker."
He grinned. "Just how I like it," he teased.
"You're such a pig," you giggled, resting you head against his clavicle, appreciating the shirtlessness. His cologne invaded your senses, his skin hot, as always.
"Do you have any idea..." you murmured quietly, hiking up the skirt of your dress, to sit comfortably. Your hands rested on his clavicle, pushing in to massage his strong traps. He licked his lips at your advances and eased you both back against the back of his seat, preparing for anything you were about to give him. "Do you know, you probably do, just how sexy you are to me?" you asked, your face staring intently at his.
He rolled his eyes and sighed, a humoured smirk gracing his features. "So, you’re booking in to the optometrist next week, I see?" he chuckled darkly as you wriggled to rest on the hefty muscles of his quads. He wasn't surprised to hear your breathy gasp. You'd had a few drinks with your friends after work, leaving him all alone at home to his own devices (he watched his team play baseball, he was fucking fine) but you were fairly sober, he knew when you were drunk, this was not it. You may have been a little more turned on and chattier than usually though and he was very pleased with this.
"Look at your beautiful face," you told him, holding his jaw in your palms. "You are just so gorgeous, Bradley."
He made a face, not quite believing you. He knew what he looked like, he knew the scars that marred his skin and you knew how self-conscious he was about them. He'd tried lotions and potions, anything to help reduce the scarring. Laser too, but nothing really faded the wiry marks from a mid-air incident when he was a young pilot. He was lucky to live, and walked away with a few cuts, scratches and pretty banged up. A lot more than his father was ever allowed and that’s why he tried not to make too much of it.
“You know I hate them,” he lowered his eyes, embarrassed. A bit angry at his lot.
But you knew. He knew you knew how unsure of himself they made him feel. You never made a big deal of them. They were such an innate part of him, and he never spoke of the incident. You only learned about it during a conversation with Natasha. She was so surprised to learn you didn't know that she figured she overstepped the mark. She told you later that Rooster was so angry that she'd told you what had happened and hoped it hadn't caused any problems for you. It was early days then, when he'd do anything for your attention, sing, crow, buy all your drinks, shoo other suitors away.
You were in love with him the moment he introduced himself. He was a young aviator in port so far from his home, uniform a little tight from the burgeoning muscles he was clearly working on. Moustache that was growing in. His voice roped you in immediately as you shared a quiet beer. You'd lost your heart to him the second he introduced himself by callsign and you laughed at him. He blushed so redly from his chest to the tips of his ears. You were enamoured right then and there. You were so proud of him but you waited the day he said he would he retiring and keeping his feet planted on the earth.
Those days weren’t as close as you wanted though.
“I love every single part of you,” you reiterated. “These would never make me love you less, Bradley.”
He only murdered a gun in reply.
You lifted his gaze and traced every blemish, and kissed his chin. You thumbed his upper lip and the scar across his cleft, kissing his lips tenderly. "I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. Scars and all," you devoutly gave him everything he deserved.
You knew you words didn't soothe his disappointment but he'd be lying to say that each time your sweet lips gave love to the raised skin, it sent shockwaves through his system, the nerve endings so sensitive and it made him feel invincible.
But it didn't change what he looked at in the mirror.
You inhaled as you kissed his Adam's Apple, the longest of his scars. He swallowed roughly, his palms knotting in your hair. "Fuck, that feels so damn good, baby,” his voice lower and deeper than before.
"I know, baby," you said, trailing gentle kisses across his neck, towards the gnarliest of his scars on his shoulder.
"Thank you, babydoll," he said softly.
"I know you hate your scars, but they absolutely take nothing away from who you are. You strong, sweet, so smart, a smart ass," you told him, kissing his full lips as he resisted smiling. "And so fucking sexy, and honestly, nothing you can tell me will ever make me think differently."
SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.
A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
#notroosterbradshaw#5 min ficlet#rooster fic#rooster fanfic#rooster#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster x reader#rooster drabble#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster bradshaw fluff#nfi this is mature#please reblog to get this out there
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Rear View Mirror
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!pilot reader
Warnings: 18+, call sign is “Ghost”, flirting, praise, piv sex, choking, fingers in mouth, authority kink, not drunk fucking just a lil drinking
Summary: basically… you’re called back to Top Gun, you go to the Hard Deck and see old friends, you see Roos, you have some fun with your old bestie! ;)
A/N: i love this plot so I think i’m gonna do one for Hangman and Bob! Also, in all of my Top Gun content, readers call sign will always be Ghost
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I don’t know how long it’s been since my last time at the Hard Deck, but here I am dressed in the skin tight khaki uniform. My last name stitched onto a patch along with other Navy and Top Gun patches.
I took a deep breath of the salty hot air as I opened the door to the bar. The air was even hotter in the Hard Deck due to all the bodies crammed into the small bar.
My eyes looked side to side, trying to find at least one person that I knew. That was until my eyes locked on the familiar dark brown slick bun and a tall-cocky-blond.
“Phoenix!” I practically screamed when I saw her playing billiards.
Before she took a shot at the ball she scanned the room and found my eyes. We ran up to each other and jumped like little girls.
“This is a sight to see” Hangman smirked at he leaned against the table.
“It’s nice to see you too Jake!” I playfully rolled my eyes before I opened my arms to pull him into a hug.
I quickly said my hellos to everyone and gave quick introductions before I went to Penny to order myself a drink.
“Where’s your best friend?” Penny asked as she was fixing up my drink.
My eyebrows furrowed until I was able to comprehend it.
“I don’t know where Roos is. Hell, he might be across the world right now!” we both chuckled.
I thanked Penny and went back to the group who was talking to Bob, something about his boring call sign. We all were talking about what his callsign meant, Bob and I more into it than the others since I was one of the pilots who gave him the name of Baby On Board.
Phoenix, Hangman, and the others go silent, pausing the conversation with Bob. Bob and I look at each other confused until we follow their eyes to the man that just arrived.
I quickly hand my drink to Bob and fast walk to the man at the entrance.
“Here we go.” I hear Hangman mumble behind me but I ignore it.
“Bradley Fucking Bradshaw always making a grand entrance!” I weaved through the sweaty bodies.
“You know I had to” he rolled his eyes behind his aviators. “Come here Ghost!”
His arms gripped my waist, hugging me and pulling me off of the floor. My arms tight around his neck, my fingers toying around with the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.
“Missed you Roos!” I mumbled into his neck as I took in the familiar scent.
He put me down and dusted my shoulders to make me look pristine again.
“It’s not nice to lie Ghost.” he playfully said.
“C’mon let’s bring you to the gang!” I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd, he gave waves and smiles to other familiar faces.
After I bring him to the team, Roos catches up with everyone and slides in some bickering with Jake just like how it was a few years ago.
I quietly sneak off to get Roos a beer from Penny, taking my time since I know she is going to be asking questions or making assumptions.
“You know he’s happier when he’s with you.” the blonde said as she was shaking a drink.
“No, he’s happy whenever he is in the air.” I smiled as I sipped my drink.
Bradshaw has been my best friend ever since we met each other at the Naval Academy a few years back. I knew that Maverick pulled his papers and how he holds him accountable for Goose’s death.
I’ve always thought Roos was an amazing person, I’d be lying if I said that I never imagined a future with him. He’s my best friend though, gotta keep it that way.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when I hear the sound of slightly out of tune piano keys, everyone beginning to crowd the old rustic piano.
Penny slides me Roos’s beer and I make my way to the piano, pushing through to see that the one and only Bradley is doing his little performance.
“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!”
I stood behind Phoenix with my free hand on her shoulder as we all start to sing along.
“Too much loves drives a man insane!”
Roosters eyes met mine, his hands never failing on the ivory keys. His head motions for me to sit on the bench with him. Phoenix lightly pushed me into the circle, and I playfully flipped her the bird.
I put his beer on the top of the piano and took a seat on the rickety bench next to Rooster. His body moving along the piano made the bench unstable, the wooden legs ready to unscrew from the movement.
“You broke my will, but what a thrill!” he sang out, his head tilting back.
The sun beamed perfectly on him though the window, the sweaty glow on his face and chest made him look godly.
He quickly took his hands off of the keys and cupped my face. “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”
He went back to playing and singing his heart out for the crowd. All of us Navy’s and military were singing along with him. I was distracted by how fast his fingers were playing and how his sweat traces down his veins on his neck.
This man was a beauty and he knows it. I’m pretty sure he saw me admiring him the whole song.
Just like that, the song was done. The crowd cheered for him, patting him on the back and girls swooning.
He turned his body towards mine, our knees touching. I about to overheat in my uniform.
“Did you like it?” he asked, extending his swole arm to grab the beer I’ve gotten for him.
“Hmm. I think you were a little pitchy.” I sarcastically shrugged my shoulders.
“C’mon you love it when I sing to you.” he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him to the point where he rests his head on top of mine.
“Maybe you’re thinking about some other Navy gal.”
He pulls his head off of mine and brought his lips to my ear.
“I only think about you.” his voice went an octave lower before leaving a peck behind my ear, his mustache tickling me.
I was used to this, we always talked to each other like this. Always little flirty remarks like we were teens. It made me blush, he made me feel like I was a high school girl sneaking out with one of the bad boys.
“Sure you do Roos.” I sent him a wink before I stood up off the bench, leaving him to use the bathroom.
When I was leaving out the bathroom, Roos snuck up behind me. He looped his fingers around the belt loop on the small of my back as we walked back to the crowded bar.
It was always the little gestures that he did, that got me the most.
I saw that Bob was now playing pool with FanBoy so I led us there. Roos sat down on a wooden stool and pulled me by my belt loops between his widened legs.
His arm wrapped over my collarbones and his hand resting on my shoulder, while he tips his beer back in his other hand. I can feel his chest rise and fall against my back.
Phoenix came up to us with a surprised look on her face. “Did you guys know that Bob was in the same TopGun class with us the whole time?”
The others were agreeing with the question she had just asked.
“Yeah I know Robert.” I said as I sent him a wave before he hit his ball.
Everyone was dumbfounded.
I felt Rooster’s chest vibrate from his chuckle.
“Hey. How about we go on a drive?” he whispered into my ear.
“What car did you bring?” I asked with a smile that he couldn't see.
“You know, just that lovely blue Ford Bronco that you love so much.” his voice was deep, trying to keep quiet so none of the others can hear.
I turn my head to face him, smile wide on my face.
“You know I love rides in the Bronco!” I leaned off of him and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the bar.
The cool salty air hitting my face was refreshing after being in tight and sweaty Navy uniforms.
Once we reached his blue Bronco, I leaned against the rear looking up at Rooster with heavy eyelids as he smiled down at me.
“You drive since you only had half a beer!” I pushed his chest, running to the passenger side.
I heard him sigh in sarcasm knowing that he would never let me drive his car, it was like one of his most prized possessions. I swung my legs up and sat in the leather passengers seat.
My fingers traces around the modern interior that matched perfectly with the vintage exterior. The cream leather seats were warm from the setting sun.
“Where to Ghost?” he closed the door and started the engine, also checking to make sure my seat belt is on.
“Depends on how much gas you got.” I joked, leaning my seat back just slightly and taking off my shoes so I can rest them on my seat.
“Anywhere it is.” he started exiting the parking lot, turning on some music and rolling down the windows.
The sunset was absolutely gorgeous on the horizon of the water.
I turned my body to look at Roos who kept his eyes on the road and his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.
“What you staring at?” he asked, giving me a quick look.
“Just admiring.” my chin rested on my hand on top of the center console.
I can feel that the few drinks I had were getting too me, I can definitely feel the confidence that it usually gave me.
“What you admiring?” he asked, his signature smirk was plastered on his face.
“Your hair and how I want it between my fingers, your lips and how soft they would be against mine.”
“Oh yeah?” he shifted in his seat, his shorts getting uncomfortably tight for him.
“Yeah and your lap, and how I wanna get off on it. Your fingers and how I want them in my mouth.”
Damn, alcohol can really get to you.
“Get in the back.” I didn't even notice that he parked. We were in a secluded area off the road that looked over the beach.
I nodded at him, unbuckling my seat belt and eagerly crawling over the center console to the back seats.
He was still in the drivers seat, adjusting the rear view mirror to see me.
“Take off everything but your panties and tank top.” he demanded.
I listened and stripped down to my tank top and underwear, throwing my clothes to the front passenger seat.
He got out of the drivers seat and opened the back door to me, getting in with me.
“Look at you, listening so well.” he chuckled, his callused hand rubbing against my ass, giving squeezes here and there.
“Yes Lieutenant.” he groaned at the ranking.
He grabbed my hips, lifting me up and sliding his body under mine. The middle seat gave us the perfect view of the scenery. His large hands pushed down the top of my back, my chest against the center console and my ass up in the air.
I can hear the clanking of his belt and his fingers struggling to pull down his shorts and boxers. I peek under my chest, getting a few of Roos fisting his cock.
It was thick, veins all over, and it was eager. The head was almost purple and it stood tall and proud. His groans were pornographic.
His free hand traced up my inner thigh and to my clothed entrance. His finger rubbed against the slick of my lace.
“Who got you this wet?” his voice was low and his eyes trained on his fingers playing with the juices soaking through.
“You did Lieutenant.” my moans were quiet.
“Are you good with this Ghost?” he was talking regular now, making sure that I had a choice to back out if I wanted.
“Im sure Roos.” I reached my arm back, rubbing at his knee to assure him.
He wrapped his arm around my collarbones, pulling me up against his chest. “Good.” Our eyes met in the rear view mirror, his lips against my neck.
His mustache scratching and tickling my skin, his mouth nipping at my skin and littering it with marks.
The tip of his cock rubbed over my slit, nudging against my opening. He pulled me down against him, his cock slowly filling me as I sat on his lap.
“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for my cock. Such a snug fit.” he groaned out, my body still adjusting to his thick size.
I circled my hips, begging for him to move. He got the hint and began to thrust from under me, pushing me up then pulling me down on his dick. We were in sync.
Our moans filling up the car.
My ass bounced on him, rippling with every time I was pulled down to meet his skin. His eyes trained on his cock disappearing inside of me and the string of juices.
“Cmon Lieutenant. Fuck me rough.” I rasped out, my throat raw from all of the moaning.
He bent me over the trucks center console, his fingers making their way into my mouth, and his eyes trained on mine through the rear view mirror. His lower lip trapped between his teeth as he focused on the feeling.
“Right there!” I mumbled out through his fingers. My saliva spilling out of my mouth, onto my chin and down his wrist.
His hips were snapping roughly into me, the sound of skin slapping. His cock me raw from the dragging inside me.
“Look at you. Got my fingers all soaked and my cock too.” he smirked at me through the mirror, my mouth lips plump and eyes teary.
He took his fingers out of my mouth, bringing them down to my clit. My saliva mixing with my slick as he rubbed on my puffy sensitive nerves.
“Fuck fuck fuck.” I wailed, the tears running down my cheeks and staining them. My legs closing from the intensity.
I clenched down on him, my orgasm so close.
“Almost there. A-almost.” his voice stuttered and so did his thrusts.
With a few more snaps, my vision went white and my moans were loud. My legs and body shaking from release and adrenaline. His groans were deep, being vocal in my ear.
“Good girl.” he groaned out in pleasure, pulling out of me.
I whined at the empty feeling, his cum spilling out of my abused hole. His hand rubbing at my back, trying to get me to calm down.
“Fuck Roos.” I panted, my slick back bun now messy and drenched in sweat.
“Let’s go back to my house and get you all freshened up.” he hummed, using his shirt to wipe up our mess.
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Baking Christmas cookies with Bradley, only to notice he already ate the decorations before they could be added to the cookies 🎄
'they were trying to be sweeter than you, but don't worry I took care of it, you're the sweetest again.'
the house smelled of gingerbread and christmas candles. dean martin was crooning holiday tunes through bradley's record player, and the fireplace crackled in the living room. it was a cozy night in, and the two of you were spending it by making christmas cookies.
you'd raided carole's old recipe box, after bradley had insisted that she made the best sugar cookies he'd ever had. you wanted so badly to master the recipe, to give him something that reminded him of his mother. so you set out to do so.
first, it was gingerbread, which was baking in the oven. next were the sugar cookies. you were currently in the middle of cutting out the dough into various shapes, while bradley watched you intently.
you caught his gaze as you worked, his honeyed eyes holding a dreamy look. "what?" you asked, feeling slightly self-conscious. he shrugged, smiling softly. "nothing. you're just so beautiful and i don't know how i got so lucky."
"oh, hush," you replied, shaking your head as you went back to working. he reached out and grabbed a small handful of m&ms out of one of the bowls you'd filled with cookie toppings. you reached out and gently smacked his hand. "i told you to stop eating the decorations!" came your scolding.
"i can't help it, i'm starving," he responded. "here, i have a job for you," you suggested, grabbing the oven mitts and thrusting them into his hands. "get the cookies out of the oven while you're waiting." he nodded and set about pulling the gingerbread cookies out of the hot oven.
he sang along to winter wonderland as he went, harmonizing with dean. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend, dressed in christmas pajamas, complete with a santa hat on his head. he was truly too adorable for his own good.
he pulled the cookies out of the oven and placed them atop it, turning to you again with a smile. "done," he announced. not long after, you handed him your freshly arranged tray of sugar cookies to put into the oven. then you set about cleaning up your workspace, but not before bradley whisked you away to dance around the kitchen.
you let him lead you around, warmth enveloping you as he held you close. you really could stay like this forever. but as he spun you around one more time, you noticed something. you stopped, whirling around to look at the counter. "bradley bradshaw!" you exclaimed. "what?!" he asked.
"did you seriously eat all the cookie decorations?" you turned to look at him, and he had the audacity to laugh at you. "maybe i did," he admitted. "i told you i was starving! you can't set m&ms in front of me and expect me not to eat them all." he pulled you into his arms again, and you went reluctantly, rolling your eyes at his antics.
"besides," he continued, tipping your chin up so you'd look at him. mischief twinkled in his eyes, "they were trying to be sweeter than you, but don't worry, I took care of it. you're the sweetest again." this prompted another good-natured eye roll from you. "i really should be mad at you," you sighed. "but you love me," he responded. you had to nod in agreement, because he was right. "that i do. you owe me m&ms though. don't think i won't hold you to that." his smile shifted into a grin at your words. "i'll get you some more. but i can't guarantee i won't eat them all again."
#asks#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fluff
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Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Master List
₊˚⊹ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw ₊˚⊹
˖⁺‧₊ Key₊‧⁺˖
♡ xFem!Reader
☁︎ xDisabled!Reader
ꨄ︎ Soulmate AU
One Shots
Vienna (Hurt and Comfort)
Red can't keep Bradley from his dreams, from Vienna.
So Romantic on the Borderline (Part 2 to Vienna, but can be read as a stand alone)
A game of operation and some laughs.
(Coming Soon)
Requests Open!
Series
Broken House ~ A Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Mini Series
Pete Mitchell left his baby girl, and then had a falling out with Bradley after the Uranium Mission. Bradley and Honey broke up after a misunderstanding. The team is getting recalled. Now they all have to confront each other at the worst time, during a party at the Hard Deck.
Slamming Doors (ANGST)
Open Windows
Mud on the Floor (Angst, Fluff, Angst sandwich)
Not A Cyclone, But a Monsoon (Completed!)
Y/N Monsoon Mitchell faces an awkward dinner party turned the worst in history, a recall to Top Gun and the Uranium mission.
Part 1
Part 2
(Coming Soon)
Requests Open!
#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x y/n#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster x y/n#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#rooster bradshaw angst#rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw#top gun maverick imagine#top gun maverick fanfiction
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Save Your Love - Part 3 - My Girl Mini Series
Summary: Bradley gets called back to Top Gun, and the dangers of the Dagger Mission make him realize his one true regret.
Warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, break-up, argument.
W/C: 2.8k
Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, OFC (Bailey) Small Parts/Mentioned: Nick and Carole Bradshaw, OMC (Sean).
Pairing: platonic Bradley Bradshaw x OFC, OFC x OMC.
Notes: set before the events of Top Gun: Maverick
Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own
Graphics: made by me on canva. Dividers: @writercole
Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main
Save Your Love
(Years later)
Knocking on Bailey’s door, every bone and muscle screams with exhaustion after almost fourteen hours of traveling - cab, plane, train, and another cab. I’m about dead on my feet, but when Bailey pulls the door open, the wind swishing her hair like some shampoo commercial and the watery smile she greets me with, every last drop of weariness falls away.
“Bradley,” she gasps, shocked, before launching herself at me. I don’t have time to drop my bag before I have to catch her, so I wrap my free arm around her and hold her close. I can feel the desperation in how she clings to me.
“Hey, baby girl,” I say into her hair as she buries her head in my shoulder.
“I missed you.” It’s all she manages to say before she breaks down, and cold tears dampen my shirt. I lift her and carry her into the apartment, kicking the door closed. Dropping my bag, I help her readjust; legs now wrapped around me. With how upset she is, I figure she hasn’t slept any more than me since we talked and head toward her bedroom.
The bed is littered with used tissues, a testament to my assumption. She’s probably been crying since we hung up the phone yesterday, which makes me angry.
Sean, the latest in her line of bad decisions, dumped her. I’ve met the guy three times. He seemed like an okay guy, but Bailey followed him around like he was some kind of god. He lifts her up only to knock her down and then stops calling. So clearly, he has a fucking screw loose to let this perfect woman go. She tried to hide it when we FaceTimed yesterday, but I could see her drowning, wanting to disappear. I want to do right by her, as she’s done for me, be her shoulder to cry on, dry her eyes, but it kills me every time I have to watch her fall apart over some asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air. As hard as she tried to convince me, I knew she wasn’t fine. So I took some leave and continued moving until I reached her, and will stay until I know she’s okay.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, but she doesn’t let me go, so I have to awkwardly unravel her, pushing tissues onto the floor as I move us up the bed to lie down.
Here I am, in her bed again, but for all the wrong reasons. I stare at the ceiling as her tears wet my shirt, sobs wracking her shoulders. She feels so small, so fragile, like I’m the only thing keeping her from shattering. All I can do is hold her as tight as I dare without hurting her. I desperately wish I could wrap her up in cotton wool and never let her feel this pain again.
Pain that I feel partly responsible for causing. If I’d had the balls to kiss her when I had the chance, I’d be in her bed for the right reasons, and she sure as shit would not be crying over me. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I wouldn’t be here, and she’d be crying because of my absence.
God, I’ve missed her. We talk every day when I can, and I check in as much as I’m allowed when I’m on deployment. Bailey, being the amazing person she is, sends me a text every morning and the last thing at night, even if it’s an emoji. She comes to every family event the navy allows, but it’s been months since I’ve had her in my arms. My chest aches, and my throat goes dry because the thought of leaving her never gets easier, and I only have a few days.
Stop! Be in the moment, idiot.
“What’s wrong with me, Bradley?” she sobs.
Anger rolls through me that she even asked the question. Smoothing down her hair and kissing her temple, I assure her, “Nothin’ darlin’. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“So why does everyone always leave me?”
Cause we’re all dysfunctional, fucked up assholes? It’s not really an answer, but she’s not really asking.
“Cause they realize you’re too good for them, and they can’t handle it.”
She sobs even harder, shaking her head as if she doesn’t believe me. It breaks my heart to see what this asshole has done to her.
“Bailey, I’m serious,” I tell her sternly, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes. “You’re perfect. I’ve never met a better person than you. And we lesser creatures are terrified to try to make you happy and fail. So we sabotage everything.”
“You’re not a lesser creature,” she insists tearfully, her voice cracking.
“No, sweetheart, trust me. I’m not as good as you. I never have been,” I whisper. “I was just lucky you took pity on me and let me be your friend.”
She scoffs, “please; you were so popular at school. I was lucky to have you. Everyone hated me because you were my friend.”
Now I’m perplexed. How does she even think that? I swear this woman’s view of herself is so inaccurate and low it’s infuriating sometimes. “No one hated you. You were the prom queen.”
“Really, after all this time, you’re still gonna pretend you had nothing to do with that, Mr prom king?”
“I swear I had nothing to do with it.” I didn’t, except trying to rig the vote by putting a load of ballots in the voting box, but I got caught, and they were all removed. So our classmates genuinely voted for her. “I have seriously failed as a friend if you don’t know how amazing you truly are.”
“I do know it, sometimes,” she says meekly, “but I like hearing you say it.”
“Then I’m going to keep telling you till you believe it all the time!” I kiss the crown of her head, sealing my vow.
We lie in silence for a while, and as I feel myself drifting off, Bailey whispers, “You wanna grab dinner?”
“Nope,” I say and tighten my grip on her. “I just wanna fall asleep with my more than amazing best friend, who deserves the fucking universe.”
She chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek before snuggling into me and getting comfortable.
Bailey is in the kitchen when I return from the coffee run. She seems surprised to see me, a look of mild shock in her eyes, “I thought you’d left.”
Why does everyone always leave me? Her question rings in my ears, and her watery smile breaks me a little.
I kiss her head as I sit down at the table with her. “Went to get coffee. You always have the cheap shit.”
She takes the cup from me, pulling it to her nose, inhaling deeply and humming.
“Bails,” I start, and immediately she’s intently staring at me, setting her coffee on the table.
She plays with the locket. It’s a nervous habit she seems to have picked up since I gave it to her. I’m not sure if she’s even aware of it, but she holds it when she wants comfort.
“You are leaving.”
“I got a call. I’m needed back at Miramar.”
“I need you here.”
“I know, I'm sorry.”
“I should be used to it by now,” she shrugs with a mirthless smile, “yet it still hurts every fucking time.”
“If I could stay, I would. It's my job,” I add weakly.
“You have to leave, I know.” She nods as if she understands, but I don’t believe her.
It’s not anger she feels; disappointment is written in every aspect of her demeanor, downcast eyes, slumped shoulders, and labored breaths to keep from crying. I know she wants to be angry, to blame someone, but she knows it's futile. She’d never blame me, though I guess, technically, she should. I signed up for this. In order to serve my country, I have to let down the people I love. Time and time again. She supported me in every decision - was the one that encouraged me to follow this path - but neither of us knew the reality would be so devasting so often.
“It’s not like I asked for the assignment, Bails,” I sigh.
“It’s fine,” she says, but it's sharp and short.
“Please, don’t be like that.”
“Like what? Am I not allowed to be sad that I have to say goodbye to you again? When you literally just got here?”
It’s killing me that I have to do this with her again, and I feel the need to explain. “It's a time-sensitive mission. Not like I can tell them no.”
She nods along but doesn’t say anything.
“Maybe I should stop coming if it’s too hard for you.” I regret it as soon as it’s in the air between us because I know she will misconstrue it. I don’t want to cause her unnecessary pain. She has enough on her plate without me piling on top.
“Maybe you should,” she snaps, abruptly standing up, toppling her chair. “Save yourself a wasted trip next time,” she throws over her shoulder as she marches out of the room.
There’s a knock on the door as I rise to follow her, hanging my head as she moves to answer it. I can’t see who it is from where I’m standing, but I hear him.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Sean pleads, “I hate it when we fight. Please forgive me.”
A sneer curls my lips, and I wait for a beat, praying that she’ll slam the door in his face, but when I step into the hallway, she’s hugging him.
Shock and anger roll through me. “Seriously!?”
Bailey turns to face me, a deep scowl creasing her brow, “Bradley, don’t.”
“Don’t?” She squares her shoulders as I stride toward them. “I’ve spent the last six hours holding you as you cried over this asshole, and then it’s a simple ‘I’m sorry, baby’, and all is forgiven?”
“Hey, fuck you, man,” Sean pipes up, but I ignore him, glare locked with Bailey’s, waiting for an explanation.
When she remains silent, I snarl, “He’s bad for you, Bails. You have to see that. You deserve so much better.”
“And what? That’s you?” Sean scoffs as he takes a step toward me. Dumb move, man.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrug, “but it sure as shit ain’t you.”
He moves within arm’s reach, and I brace myself to dodge the punch, but he doesn’t have the balls. “What would you know? You don’t know me, and you don’t know us.”
Standing nose to nose, I growl, “I know enough, and I know her. I know you stifle her, shove her down, try to make her into something you think you want, and when she balks, you leave until she’s ready to try to be who you want her to be. But it’s never enough, is it?”
“Bradley,” she warns, wedging herself between us, but neither of us back down. “Sean, maybe you should leave. I’ll call you later.”
“You’re seriously considering this?” I’m pissed now. We both know the number of times she’s called me crying over this asshole. Shame flashes in her eyes before she hangs her head.
She pushes on Sean’s shoulder, urging him away. “Sean, please.”
“Don’t bother,” I say, shaking my head, and I know she can see how disappointed I am. I wait until she makes eye contact and then spit, “Definitely a wasted trip.” before I shove past Sean and out of the door.
“Bradley,” she calls after me, but I don’t listen.
If I go back there, I’m gonna hit him and maybe say something that should not be said. The door opens as I reach the elevators, and an elderly couple steps out. I rush in, jabbing the ground floor button, turning in time to see her staring at me from where she stands in the middle of the corridor.
“Don’t call me when he fucks up again,” I say.
“Don’t leave like this, please,” she begs as the doors slide closed.
Two Weeks later.
It’s been years, and I still think about that night on my Bronco, the morning after in Bailey’s apartment. How different things could be now. Things were strained between us for a while. Until the first time I came home for the holidays, it was as if I’d never left.
I did leave, though. And every time I went back, it would leave her crushed when I left. My love for her is the one thing that time and distance haven’t changed. I love her the way my mom loved my dad. Mav’s told me the stories, theirs was a love that never dies, and I feel the same about Bailey. It’s a weight I carry with me everywhere I go. It holds me back from flying like Maverick. It makes me hesitate because I don’t want to leave her in the same tragic way my dad left my mom.
I saw my mom’s grief. The tears she rarely tried to hide, every goddamn day. She never got over it; time made little difference. I couldn’t do that to Bailey. Every time I go on a mission, there’s a strong possibility I might not make it back.
Like tomorrow, tomorrow’s the dagger mission. The stakes are the highest they’ve ever been, and all I can think about is her. I should be focused. I should be studying the map of the terrain or sleeping. But all I can think about is her always being by my side. Even when I left her behind, she never complained or made me feel shitty for it. She never called me out on my shit for how I acted that night on the hood of my Bronco. She never asked for an explanation for my behavior the morning after.
If tomorrow is my last day on earth, that’s my biggest regret - not spending my life telling Bailey how much I love her, making her see her true worth. I regret that I’ve never told her.
I can’t sleep. I know it's not fair of me, but I call her number. She won’t answer; the woman could sleep through a hurricane.
“Hey, it’s me,” I tell her voicemail. “So…um, tomorrow I’ve got to do something, and I might not come back from it. So I just need to say something.”
Fuck, this is insane, but I need her to know. I steel my nerves, take a breath and spew my emotions into her voicemail.
“You’re worth more than you know. I’m sorry for the way I left, but you know Sean isn’t good for you.” The image of her crumpled and crying in her bed makes my jaw tick. “Fuck,” I blast out. “I wish there was someone worthy of you. I’m sure there is, but it ain’t him, and deep down, you know that.”
I hope she does anyway. I really do because if I don’t make it back tomorrow, there'll be no one else to tell her that.
“I hate watching you fall apart, and you’re grown enough to make your own decisions, but we all make mistakes. I wanna do right by you. Be a shoulder to cry on, dry your eyes, but it kills me to do it when it’s ‘cause of some asshole who doesn’t know how special you truly are. What I’m trying to say is, if I don’t make it back, please save your love for someone who's never gonna run, who loves you for the amazing person you are, not someone who wants to change you.”
“But if I do make it back…” My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat. I need to wrap this up before it cuts me off.
“The day I left... fuck before that... our road trip. I know it was leading to something more, something that would have been incredible. But I was so afraid of hurting you… leaving you. I couldn’t put you through that. You never pushed it, so I figured it was like you said, that we were just clinging to something to dull the sorrow of being apart. No. That's a lie. I… I knew you wanted more. I wanted more. I want more.
Shit, this is all wrong. I’m not making sense. Sorry. I should have fought for us. I’ll always regret being too much of a coward to cross the line between us. We should have at least tried. Maybe we still can, but if the worst happens, I need to know that you know that I love you. And I don’t mean that in the BFF way we always say it. To be clear... Bailey, I’m in love with you.”
Part 4 - Words Unspoken
Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main
#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw x ofc#ofc#rooster x ofc#best friends to lovers#rooster bradshaw fluff#rooster bradshaw angst#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw angst#flangst
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🍭 jesus you're hot." "what?" with rooster maybe?? CONGRATS ON 1K 💕💕
thank you sweet anon baby i love u!!! here's rooster being the most helpful boyfriend but still a little shit <3
bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, much fluff, 1.1k
Rooster was happy when he got home tonight, still buzzing with excitement from spending some well needed time with his friends after a grueling few weeks of training. He whistled the tune to the song that was on the radio last as he made his way up the walk and let himself inside, locking the door behind him before he did anything else.
Your voice echoed from somewhere in the house the moment the door closed. “That you, Roos?”
“No, I’m a house burglar.”
“You’re hilarious. How was squad night?” Rooster could tell you were rolling your eyes playfully at his words.
“Good. Missed you though. The guys wanna know if you're still doing happy hour with us next week, and Phoenix says you better come so you can be her wingwoman.” He called back, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water before wandering down the hall in search of the love of his life (aka you).
When he found you in the bedroom, you were sitting at the vanity clad in one of his faded Navy t-shirts with your back towards him, but he could see you in the mirror with a shiny looking sheet mask over your face, your hair held up and away from it by the fluffy headband thing you always used whenever you did your makeup.
You caught his eye in the mirror, beaming at him happily. “Thanks for reminding me, I’ll text Nat later.”
Rooster ambled into the room, tossing his jacket on the bed, unloading his pockets on the nightstand, taking a sip of his water. All the while, you were brushing your hair, brow creased in concentration at the task at hand and not at all at him watching you do your thing.
“Jesus you’re hot.” He mumbled, leaning against the doorway with one shoulder.
You tore your eyes away from your moving hands, turning around in your chair to face him. “What?”
“You heard me, sweetheart.”
“I’ve got stuff all over my face, Bradley, I really doubt I’m anything close to eye candy right now.” You chuckled, setting down the brush. Rooster shot you a pointed look.
“Uh, no. Total eye candy, all the time. You could be wearing a trash bag covered in bird shit and I’d still think you’re the hottest, prettiest girl in the whole world, baby.”
“That’s…disgusting.”
“I’m trying to be romantic here, woman!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” You laughed, finally rising from your seat and making your way across the room to him. He was rosy cheeked, warm to the touch when your hands linked around the back of his neck, a hint of beer on his breath as he slid in closer to you. You kissed his cheek, lingering in his embrace for a few more seconds before attempting to wriggle away. “I gotta wash this mask off, Roos.” Rooster let out a groan, sagging back against the doorframe dramatically. “You can come with me if you're gonna be all sad and mopey about it.”
He perked up at that, following you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, and when you grabbed a small washcloth from the drawer, he cocked his head, meeting your eye in the mirror yet again. “Can I take it off for you?”
You arched an eyebrow at him, shooting him a ‘really?’ look.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, I meant the mask.” He tsked, giving your side a light pinch. “Dirty, dirty mind you’ve got there, sweetheart. I gotta watch out for you.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Grinning, he lifted you onto the counter, peeling off the sticky mask delicately so as to make sure it all came off in one piece, and tossing it in the trash before grabbing the towel and wetting it with warm water. Your eyes fluttered shut as Rooster wiped all over your face gently, one of his hands cupping your face to hold your head still while he got all the excess mask off. The stroke of his hand was careful yet deliberate, like everything he did.
He reached for your headband next, letting the elastic of it snap against your eyes and snickering when you huffed and swatted blindly at him. As soon as he’d gotten it off though, he grinned, immediately bringing his other hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
“There’s my girl.” He hummed, tilting his head. There was a glint in his eye that he only got when he was gearing up to kiss you, but you clamped a hand over his mouth before he could, tilting your chin up at him.
“Nuh uh. What do I need to do before you do that?”
Rooster’s eyebrows creased in thought, frowning for a second before straightening up suddenly, snapping his fingers in realization. “Moisturizer!”
“Good.” His hand hovered above the collection of tiny bottles on the counter, fingers wiggling until he found the right one. He popped the cap, squirting a decent sized amount into his palm and spreading it around before promptly planting both hands on your face, squishing your cheeks as he rubbed in the moisturizer playfully rough.
“Oh, you asshole!” You spluttered, trying to bat his hands away from your face. He busted up at your indignance, going in again a lot softer this time and making sure he’d gotten every part of your face. Now came the time to kiss you and he did, pressing his lips against yours briefly but earnestly.
“Done and doner. Who’s the best boyfriend in the world?” He nodded proudly when he pulled away, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “I’m gonna save you the headache, because the answer is this guy!”
“I mean, I guess so,” You sighed mock defeatedly, giggling at the way his features instantly warmed into offense. “The best boyfriend in the world would come to bed and cuddle with me until I fall asleep.”
Rooster nodded quickly. “Lemme shower real quick, then I’ll be right there,” He insisted, punctuating his promise with another peck to your lips.
“I dunno, I might fall asleep before you’re done.” You never went to bed without him when he was home, but you loved to mess with him every so often.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He glared at you. “I’ll wake you up again, I swear to god.”
“Hurry up and shower then, drama queen.”
“Ten minutes, tops!”
He was true to his word, squeaky clean and climbing into bed and wrapping you in his arms not even ten minutes later. His hair was still a little damp and curling at the ends, but he smelled delicious, like soap and—
“Did you use my shampoo?”
“...no?”
You squinted up at him, to which he averted his gaze guiltily. "Sure smells like you did."
“Baby, if you didn’t want me to use it, stop buying such good smelling shower shit.”
“You’re the reason I keep running out of shampoo so fast! Oh my god, I knew it wasn’t me!”
“I’ll run to the drugstore in the morning.”
“You better.”
#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fluff#rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley rooster bradshaw fluff#top gun maverick#miles teller#kait celebrates 1k!
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The Golden Boy 💛💛💛
#the golden boy#he is the moment#miles teller top gun#miles teller smut#miles teller#rooster bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster fluff#top gun rooster#rooster top gun#rooster smut#rooster#top gun 1986#top gun maverick#top gun movie#top gun#top gun 2#i like older men#i love pretty boys#he pretty#he looks so pretty#he's so pretty#pretty#he's a pretty boy#a picture is worth a thousand words#he's so fine
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okay but like a cozy, rainy day with rooster. you stay in bed all day cuddling, napping, reading, watching movies/tv shows, etc. you order take out for dinner and later decide to drive to get ice cream. the windows on his bronco are down, the air is cool from the rain. you’re both singing along to one of oldies playlists he’s made. he’s driving with one hand, the other either on your knee or holding your hand. at a red light he leans over and kisses your forehead as he tells you he loves you, then goes right back to singing. after you’re back home, you both share a bath before climbing back under the covers for the night. you play with his damp curls as he gently rubs your back until you both fall asleep
#is this really too much to ask for?#ive never written for anyone before but i need to get these thoughts out#this man has taken over my life lol#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#random rooster ramble#rooster bradshaw drabble#rooster bradshaw fluff#rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster x you#rooster x reader#top gun maverick
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begin again (rooster bradshaw)
AN: rooster still struggles with the death of his parents from time to time, and though he could turn to a multitude of people to get him through- he chooses you (his ex-flame). no warnings, only soft feelings ahead.
reader's call sign: sass
pairing: rooster bradshaw x female reader
Penny Benjamin's name flashes across the screen of your vibrating cell phone, rousing you from an otherwise heavy slumber and you answer it, frowning at the late hour.
“Penny, is everything alright?”
Because everyone knows that bad news has a terrible habit of following two-AM phone calls.
Penny hesitates on the other end while someone in the background hollers something. “Everything's fine, Sass. I'm sorry for waking you, but would you mind swinging over here to pick Rooster up?”
You blanch at the question. “He’s back on American soil?”
“Oh, he sure is.” She confirms.
Swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you ask, “What about Mav?”
Penny sighs heavily. “Maverick is currently as indisposed as Rooster is.”
“Penny, m’darlin’! Is that her? May I talk to her?”
Penny pulls the phone from her ear to hiss something at someone in the background and then she’s back a second later to tell you that he’s asking for you personally.
Lucky me.
“Yeah Penny- give me twenty minutes.”
In the short amount of time that it takes to drive to the Hard Deck you nearly turn back twice; the last words you ever uttered to Rooster play on like a broken record in your mind and causes unease to prick at you. You’re about to make a final run for it when the familiar neon sign catches your eye through the early morning light and it’s entirely too late now. Parking your car, you notice that the bar is closed for the evening, and you glance around in mild confusion. You are mere seconds from calling Penny back when you spot three lone figures standing on the beach a couple yards away. Drawing nearer, you notice both Penny and Maverick with their arms around Rooster’s impossibly broad shoulders- and they’re telling him something, but you lose their words to the white noise of the waves breaking on the shore before you.
“Hi guys.” You announce your presence and Maverick turns to face you, his smile wide and begrudgingly infectious.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. It’s good to see you, Sass.”
Penny turns to you, her expression grateful. “Thank you for coming, Sass.”
“Bit of a rowdy night for a Wednesday, huh?”
Penny tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and nods her head, her sky-blue orbs glitter brilliantly in the low morning light. “It sure was.” She pecks Rooster’s cheek goodbye and tugs on the sleeve of Maverick’s worn leather jacket. “Hate to cut a party early Mav, but eight o’clock comes fast.”
Maverick guffaws and thumps Rooster on the back twice. “You owe me a beer, kid.” He ruffles a palm through the mop of Rooster’s unruly auburn hair- something about the gesture tells you it’s a remnant from his childhood, and it makes you smile. “You remember what I told you, hm?”
Rooster nods, once.
“Thanks again for coming, Sass. I’m sorry for waking you.” Penny whispers as she walks past.
“It’s no problem, really. I had just closed my eyes.”
She caresses a warm palm to your cheek, her gaze knowing. “His plane hit the tarmac a week ago and he hasn’t stopped talking about you since.”
You watch them retreat from sight and sidle up next to Rooster. “So. This is how I find out you’re stateside?”
He sways a little on the spot, a byproduct of the alcohol consumed, no doubt. “You made your position about our future communication adamantly clear the last time we spoke.”
You certainly can’t begrudge him that because it’s true. “And yet here we are.”
“Here we are.” His soft, wrecked voice echoes.
Silence settles like fine dust between the pair of you, and despite everything that transpired in the past, you cannot deny that you missed him with every fiber of your being. A multitude of questions dance just shy of your reach- Where have you been? And- Why did you listen when I told you never to call again? But all you can manage is a quiet, “Talk to me, Rooster.”
“It’s his birthday today.” He murmurs. His gaze is distant- lost to the vast ocean before him. “He would have been sixty.” His admission weighs heavier than you thought it might, and your arms ache to hold him. “Is it fucked up that I come here sometimes to feel closer to him?”
You shake your head. “Grief is a fickle thing, Rooster. You do what you can to cope. No one can fault you for that.”
“I miss them so much.”
His despair is suddenly palpable; it washes over you like warm rain and all you can do is be near to him. “The grief means that there’s love, Rooster. It means that there is so much unexpressed love still. And it’ll stay with you- it’s supposed to stay with you. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” A tear slips from his closed eye and cascades down his flushed cheek, and you reach up to brush it away with the pad of your thumb. “Let’s get you home, hm?”
Rooster relents and stumbles through the sand to your car. The ride is silent, your eyelids heavy with the weight of interrupted sleep. “Will you wait around a little while?” Rooster asks, upon arrival. And because you’ve always had a particularly hard time with saying no to him, you smile softly and nod your head.
“Sure, Rooster.”
It’s been six months since you’ve been inside of his house and stepping into the front hallway brings the memories back in roiling waves.
Rooster taking you up against the wall after an evening out at a military gala, the kitchen where scrambled eggs and bacon were made on Sunday mornings. The living room where he used to slow dance with you to Otis Redding. The photographs adorning the walls that the two of you purchased together.
“May I put a record on?” The hour is late and wearing on, but you’re not sure when you’ll get this opportunity again, so you take full advantage of it.
“Of course.” Rooster murmurs.
Making your way over to the record player beneath the bay window, you search through the case next to you until you find the one that you want. Slipping Giant from Buddy Holly out of its cover, you place it into the player, position the needle, and step back. It takes a few moments before the riff to Love Is Strange sounds through the speakers and transports the otherwise quiet room to the late sixties.
“A good choice.” Rooster approves from the doorway.
“It’s nostalgic for me.” You shrug.
“Me too.” He pushes himself from the doorframe to walk over to you. “May I?” He asks, in reference to a dance.
“You may.”
He takes you into his arms, and the achingly familiar feeling they bring you is so intense, you have no choice but to drop your chin to his shoulder blade to keep from sighing in utter satisfaction. He sways slowly with you on the spot, his large warm hands cradle the small of your back- and they hold you like you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll shatter into a million magnificent pieces before his eyes.
“Most of my memories are thread bare, but when I listen to music like this, I can still see them together.” He clears his throat. “He’d put on a record- like you just did, and he’d dance her around the living room until it ended. And the next night, they’d do it all over again.”
The needle ticks and the record finishes and your eyelids threaten close of their own volition when Rooster leads you by the hand to his bedroom down the hall. He makes no move to remove your clothing, and sleep is so heavy on your mind that you fall into bed without another thought. He sidles in beside you, brushes the hair back from your ear and says, “I never got to thank you before I left.”
“Thank me for what?” You mumble, sleepily.
Rooster traces a fingertip down the bridge of your nose. “I packed ice around my heart after my parents passed. I got scared of making homes out of people, but you made me feel less afraid about it all, and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.” His fingertips trace the outline of your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the touch. “And if tomorrow comes and you’re still here, I’ll tell you everything, Sass.”
“You're drunk, Rooster.” You whisper.
And everyone knows that drunk words mean nothing when the morning light touches them.
Yet six am arrives and sunshine beams through a crack in his curtains, and the very first words out of that wonderfully gravelly voice of his are- “I meant every single word I said earlier.”
And as you watch a slow, sleepy smile bloom across his face- happiness warms inside of you like sunlight through a stained glass window.
#he must get the lonelies something awful sometimes#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#rooster bradshaw imagines#rooster bradshaw fluff#fluff#writing
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Endless Love (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw) - Chapter 2
summary - Y/N Y/L/N and Bradley Bradshaw have had a rivalry ever since they both attended the same academy. Every chance they took, they always tried to one up each other. One day, Bradley takes the rivalry too far and Y/N ends up in the hospital with serious injuries. Will it make Y/N want to get him back twice as worse? Or will it make her realise that this rivalry between them is childish?
warnings - swearing, enemies to lovers, mention of serious injury, traumatic episodes, reader traumatised from what happened, smut, slowburn, seizures, flashbacks
a/n: hey girliessssss, this is going to be hard to read for some people after this chapter as it talks about trauma and things like that, as well as the single seizure in this chapter
It was our first official day at Top Gun, everyone was sat down waiting to get briefed. My table was in front of Phoenix and Bob's table so I turned around to talk to them.
"Who do you think our trainer guy is gonna be?" Bob asked, his gaze switching from me to Phoenix over and over again.
"Let's not hope it's some douchebag. Otherwise me and them are going to have a problem." Our attention is then taken by Cyclone, who is standing at the podium with papers in his hand.
"Attention ladies and gentlemen. Your trainer is someone with the highest skill, he has beaten limits no one else has had the guts to." We hear the doors open but keep our attention on Cyclone. "May I introduce Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell." Maverick then stands beside Cyclone, next to the podium.
Me and Maverick make eye contact, while his eyes widen in shock, mine have pure anger in them. What the fuck is this prick doing here? I ask myself as I grip the sides of the desk.
Bradshaw then turns his head to me as he sees that me and Maverick know each other.
"Hey, Y/L/N, why are you looking at Maverick like you wanna kill him?" There is a chuckle in his voice, which makes me even angrier.
I turn to Bradshaw, the anger in my eyes changing to rage. "None of your fucking business Bradshaw." I then turn my head again and face the wall in front of me. I couldn't look at Maverick, Bradshaw or anyone for this matter so it's best if I stare at the wall.
"Now, all of you here are clearly the best of the best. I want you to prove that. We're going to be training for a mission that is highly dangerous, so we're going to put you in dangerous situations and see how you get out of them." Maverick started to say but I zoned out after hearing his voice for too long.
--------------------------------------
I was in the locker room, getting into my flight suit for our first training session. I was still very angry. Why the fuck did Maverick have to be our trainer?
"Hey, Y/N, you okay? You were practically killing Maverick with your eyes earlier." Phoenix taps my shoulder as she gets into her flight suit too.
"Just something that happened in the past, doesn't really matter." I turn my head away from Phoenix and finish putting my flight suit on. I grab my helmet from my locker that has "Vandal" printed onto it.
I was the first out there, waiting for everyone else to come outside.
Since Maverick was also outside he thought it'd be a great idea to strike up a conversation.
"Listen, Y/N/N... I didn't mean to-" I immediately interrupt him, rage now coming back into my expression and voice.
"You do not get to call me that anymore! Not after what you fucking did." I half shouted, half spoke normally as to not get anyone's attention.
"Okay... Okay... I... I just want to say I'm sorry..." His expression had remorse all over his face.
"Fuck you. Don't think that an apology can fix what you fucking did." I kissed my teeth as I looked away from him, my grip on my helmet tightening.
The rest of the group came walking in and could sense the tension in the air, none of them spoke.
"Guess one of them left without leaving a note the other night." Hangman spoke up, which caused a few to chuckle but it made my anger increase.
"But you would obviously know that since you get left a note every time you fuck a girl." I speak up, making everyone, except Hangman, Bradshaw and Maverick, burst out in laughter.
"Alright! That's enough!" Maverick spoke up and neatened up the papers he had in his hand on the podium. "We will be starting off strong with today's training session! I'll split you into two groups. Y/C/S, Rooster. You will both be captains of these teams." Maverick put everyone into either mine or Rooster's team.
When I began to head to my jet, Bradshaw caught up with me.
"Hey Y/C/S, get ready to be second best as per usual!" But before I could even retort with something, he jogged to his jet in front of me.
---------------------------------------
We've been in the sky for about 2 hours. The objective was to take down as many jets on the opposing team before the time runs out. We have around 30 minutes left. I'm the only person on my team left, however, Rooster and Coyote are the last 2 standing on their team.
It wasn't hard to "shoot" Coyote down so now it was just me and Rooster left. I was not going to let him shoot me down. We were flying beside each other for about 10 minutes to see who would let themselves get shot down first, neither of us backed down.
Somehow we managed to get into a Pugachev's Cobra. Maverick immediately told us that one of us should pull out as soon as possible. Neither one of us did. We were getting closer and closer to the ground, breaking the Hard Deck. Then suddenly, Rooster's jet launches a small missile which hits my jet, sending me to the ground. I pressed everyone button possible, then I pressed the eject button. My chair ejected before the cockpit could open fully so I clipped my head on the edge of the glass, which at the speed that i was ejected out of knocked me unconscious.
-------------------------------------
I was in a hospital bed. I hadn't woke up yet but I could hear things. People talking. The beeping of machines. Doctors talking. But the one thing that stood out to me was the voices of Bradshaw and Maverick. Both of them were apologising.
"I'm really sorry Y/N, it was an accident, I didn't mean to press that fucking button!" Bradshaw whisper-shouted as I heard him place flowers at the side of the bed. Then there was Maverick.
"Oh Y/N/N..." I told him not to use that name. "I'm so sorry... for what I did... for how I did it... and for leaving you, even when I said I wouldn't..." Maverick sounded like he was crying.
That was when it happened, I had had a seizure. From what I heard I was having a seizure, I felt completely fine. But that's the thing, I wasn't fine for long. I lost complete consciousness, no voices, no sounds, pure darkness. Great.
#top gun#top gun fanfic#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagines#top gun maverick#top gun rooster#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley bradhsaw smut#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw fluff#bradley rooster bradshaw smut#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw fic
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Hotter Than Texas | Part I
(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.
Aka it's a road trip, strap in.
CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)
The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.
While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.
When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.
As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.
Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.
He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”
He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.
“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.
Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.
You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.
Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.
“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.
But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.
“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”
Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”
You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”
Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.
You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.
Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.
This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.
Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.
“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.
He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.
You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.
Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.
You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”
Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”
You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”
Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”
Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”
Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.
…
About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.
“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”
You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”
“How do you like it?” he asks.
“With a pinch of salt.”
Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”
Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”
You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”
“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.
Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.
Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.
Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.
He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.
You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.
Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”
Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.
But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”
Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.
Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.
Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.
Read Part 2
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I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!
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Main Masterlist
Rear View Mirror ★✰
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