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coco-loco-nut · 2 years

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Guardian Angel

Pairing: Omaha x Reader, Pining!Hangman x Reader

- Callsign Indigo

A/n: If I’m honest, the rest of the twelve don’t get enough attention. Like have you seen Omaha and Harvard… damn they can get it. But also, low key simp for silently protective Hangman.

Please send requests

Masterlist

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You knew that there was a clique within the pilots that were called back, and you were fine with that. You had Omaha and Harvard, your friends since the Academy. Hell, you and Omaha have spent one too many nights in each other’s bed when things got lonely on deployment, toeing the line of a relationship and friends with benefits. Even if you weren’t friends with those other pilots, you were still one of the best and one of the few female pilots to be top in their class. You went up, performed just as well as everyone else, then enjoyed hanging around the edge of the room. Bob would stop and chat sometimes, but never stayed. Harvard teases you that a young 28-year-old like you needs to go out more, but you brush it off.

“Come on, Indigo. Let’s grab dinner,” Harvard stands in front of the shyer pilot. You are sort of the opposite of Phoenix. She is bold, sassy, or the center of attention. You prefer your alone time, aren’t one for large social interactions, and usually just fly by. It helps with your flying though, you are a top stealth pilot, more so than most of the people here. So when you accidentally beat Maverick in a dogfight, it caught some unusual attention.

“Harvard, I’m not in the mood. I’ll go, then people who I don’t know are going to ask me how I did it, and I’ll hate it,” you groan as the pilot barges into your unlocked room.

“They won’t, Omaha will make sure of it. You know, if you let them get to know you, they would love you,” he pokes your stomach, causing you to giggle.

“Who else goes on rants and talks our ear off? And God knows they need a mom friend like you, because Bob can’t do it all. If they can’t see the smart, kind, beautiful, badass pilot that you are, that’s on them,” Omaha steps in, having been at the door the whole time.

“Aww guys, I love you. Now stop being softies and lead the way. I’m actually starving and you two will be my meal if you don’t hurry,” you lead the way out of your room to the mess hall.

“When were you going to mention you know Hangman?” Omaha asks as you grab a tray.

“Probably never because it doesn’t matter. Where did you hear that?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. You detected a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“He overheard you tell Bob,” Harvard comments, earning a sharp look from Omaha.

“Well, you didn’t hear correctly then. I know of Hangman. We went to the same school, but he was three grades ahead of me,” you inform him. Sure, it was a smaller school, but you were too much of a wallflower to draw attention to yourself.

“See, no reason to get your panties in a twist,” Harvard teases the other pilot. The three of you sit at your usual table, talking about some random topic.

“Indigo, nice flying up there,” Phoenix compliments, taking a seat at your table. One by one, more pilots join until Hangman claims the final seat beside you. Questions were asked around, Omaha and Harvard tried to field them for you, but you gave short answers, withdrawing into yourself.

“Did y’all know that Indigo and I went to the same high school?” Jake mentions as everyone finished eating. Internally you start panicking as you shut down externally.

“You did? What was he like?” Coyote asks, you stare at him for a second.

“The same,” is what you muster. Omaha squeezes your hand underneath the table. You both would never admit it to anyone but Harvard, but you are essentially dating.

“Indigo here was the captain of the soccer team as a junior, she did a lot of sports,” Jake seems to be responding to a question that you blanked on. How did he even know that? He would’ve graduated by then.

“I gotta go,” you quickly leave the mess hall, making your way back to your room. A knock on your door ten minutes later pulls you out of your book. “Go away, Omaha. I’m not in the mood,” you call out, starting the line again.

“It’s not Omaha. It’s me, Jake,” Hangman replies. With a grunt, you push yourself off the bed and open the door.

“What do you want, Hangman?”

“Can I come in?” He asks, acting the most like a normal person than you’ve seen from him.

“Would it matter if I said no?” You sigh, stepping aside.

“It would. Unlike the other pilots, I actually like you,” he enters your room and sits in the desk chair. You close the door and sit on your bed.

“How nice of you,” you deadpan, somehow comfortable with him.

“Look, I’m sorry if mentioning our connection made you uncomfortable. It’s just that everyone was curious about you and I wanted to feed them information to get them off of your back,” Hangman admits. You look up from the ground in shock. This is a different Jake Seresin than the one you knew. He is an arrogant prick, and this one actually noticed and considered your feelings.

“How did you even know? I knew because everyone knew you, you were the most popular in your class and all the girls in mine wanted to be with you. Hangman, people in my own grade didn’t know me,” you point out, making him think.

“Indigo, people noticed you. You were the shy, smart, athlete who -like me- wanted to be a pilot. Guys wanted you, but I told them to leave you alone. You would’ve hated the way they talked about you, and you would have hated the attention. I noticed you. The pretty soccer player who skipped a grade and ran track with me, and loved to wear purple,” Hangman moves to sit beside you and you let him, processing his words.

“You are four years older than me,”

“I came home a lot,”

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper. Hangman rests his hand on yours for a second.

“I just wanted to let you know that I have your back,” he replies gently, matching your tone.

“I-, uh, thanks,” you just sit there. All this time he’s just been there. Your guardian angel.

“Indigo, hey, look at me,” he says softly, and you turn your head to him, looking at his green eyes and fluffy short blonde hair. His small lips that before now you never thought of kissing but now you wouldn’t mind. Part of you mind is betraying the other part that screams about Omaha. “Everyone here loves you and wants to get to know you like Omaha and Harvard. There will be a bonfire on the beach tomorrow night, you should join us,” he says the last sentence after a couple seconds.

“Thanks, Hangman. I’ll think about it,” you offer a smile, knowing that you probably won’t go. Hangman pauses at the door, looking back at you.

“Jake. For you it’s always been Jake,” he decides, closing the door behind him. You try his name quietly to your self, deciding that despite knowing each other before the Navy, his name was still for private use only.

True to your thoughts, you had no intention of going to the bonfire. You just received a new book and you were deep in it when Omaha knocked on your door.

“Come on, beautiful, the beach waits for no one,” he says as he opens the door, observing you barely react to him.

“Can’t. Book,” you don’t even look up. Omaha lays on your bed beside you, watching.

“You could bring the book with you,” he suggests, immediately pulling you out of your zone. “Please, if I have to spend the night with just Harvard and all the other pilots, I’ll go crazy. I need you with me to keep me sane,” he gives you puppy eyes and you can’t say no.

“Okay, for you. But you owe me another date to that café,” you smile and bookmark your page.

“I will take you on as many dates as you want, as long as I’m alive,” he gives you his megawatt smile, one he reserves for those close to him, and presses a soft kiss on your lips. You hum and pull away.

“Get out, I gotta change,” you shoo him out with a laugh at the pout and quickly scan your wardrobe. You decide on cotton shorts with an old Navy tee over a swimsuit. After pulling you hair into a messy bun, you pack a small bag and join Omaha in the hall. He grabs your hand and you start walking to the beach. You both make little comments that make the other laugh, enjoying the privacy of the empty beach before you reach the others.

“Look who made it!” Rooster cheers as you both sit down by the fire. Omaha sits behind you, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You two miss the jealous look that Hangman gives you both, but Harvard and Phoenix don’t.

“Neil, stop,” you laugh as he leaves feather light kisses on your neck as you read. He laughs too, you feel his chest move against your back.

“Sorry,” he whispers giving you the distraction free space you needed to read by the fire. He stayed sitting where he was, but took to annoying Harvard. You refocused on the book, deciding to finish the chapter then put it away.

Hangman was staring at you, admiring the way the fire lit up your features, your laugh and blush of annoyance as you did your best to focus on the book. He imagined it was him annoying you and not Omaha.

“Bagman, snap out of it. She’s clearly taken. Just because you went to the same school and tried to play white knight doesn’t mean she’s going to dump him,” Phoenix says getting the pilot’s attention off of you.

“She deserves better, not some asshole,” Hangman grumbles, watching as Omaha plays with your hair as you read. He should’ve talked to you sooner, kept in touch, anything. Maybe then he would be the one to play with your hair.

“Like you? So she deserves someone who isn’t an ass, but you want to nominate yourself,” Phoenix scoffs, turning around and heading towards Bob. She’s had enough of Hangman’s pining. Hangman watches her leave, turning over her words in his head until he is jerked out of it by a noise.

“Harvard! Let me down!” You are thrown over his back as he heads to the ocean. Your book is bookmarked and discarded on the sand. Omaha laughs, taking a few pictures from his spot on the sand.

“Don’t you dare. Omaha, help me!” You laugh harder. Hangman makes a move to help you, but Coyote’s glare and Omaha’s sprint stops him. Omaha gets there a little too late and watches are you are thrown into the water and a wave sweeps Harvard’s feet out from under him.

“Sorry, Indigo,” Omaha cheekily smiles at you and turns to ‘yell at’ Harvard. While he’s distracted, you sneak up on him and drag him in with you. Rooster, deciding that it looks fun, drags the others into the water, the warm fire all but forgotten. Water fights turned into chicken fights.

After multiple rounds of chicken against Phoenix and Rooster, you and Harvard finally won. Well, Rooster and Harvard didn’t actually do anything other than chat while you and Phoenix battled. As you emerge from being dunked by Harvard, Omaha traps you in a bear hug. You melt a little against his chest, humming as the salt water drips from your hair.

“Are you glad you came?” he asks, playing with the ends of your ponytail. You lean back a little to get a better view of his face. His black hair soaked in saltwater and blue eyes dark with the night.

“Very,” you choke out, a little breathless. Neither of you move as the waves push against you. You clear your throat. “Walk me home?” you ask, unwrapping your arms from around his chest. With a nod from Omaha, the two of you leave the water, heading straight for the towels in your bag. Almost no one notices as you walk the beach in the direction of the base, all your stuff gone from the fireside. Hangman was the only one. He was always watching you. Jealousy rips through him as Omaha’s arm wraps around your waist, dangerously low.

“Hangman, you have to let go,” Bob rests a hand on the pilots shoulder. Hangman shakes his head as you disappear from his eyesight.

A week later there is a knock on your door. You know it isn’t Harvard or Omaha since they are in the gym right now. You go later at night when no one is there.

“Hangman, what are you doing here?” You ask, a little concerned as the pilot hasn’t stopped by in a while.

“I have to do something,” he mumbles. He’s been stuck in a thought process for the past week, replaying scenarios over and over. Then something snapped, leading him to your door. You barely have time to register his movements before his lips come crashing onto yours. You immediately push him away.

“Hangman, Jake, stop. You can’t do that,” you fume, your friendship having been taken advantage of.

“Please, give me a chance,” he pleads, trying to take a step closer to you but you stop him.

“We are friends, I’m sorry if you got another impression. Maybe I would feel differently if I weren’t dating Omaha, but that’s not the case,” you shake your head, trying not to take pity at Hangman’s crestfallen look.

“Since when?” he whispers, searching your eyes.

“Since the beach. I’m sorry, you didn’t know. I don’t blame you, you thought I was single. Let’s move past this, okay? You are a great friend, my guardian angel,” you softly smile. The last phrase makes Jake feel sick to his stomach. He may be older than you, but he’s bent over backwards for a lot of his life trying to make sure you were happy.

Not wanting to ruin what respect and friendly love you held for him, he nods, apologies tumbling out of his mouth. He almost had to deal with a very pissed Omaha, but you reeled Omaha in while Hangman dealt with an even more pissed Phoenix. Word travels fast.

Although he always has and always will love you from afar, he stood as a best man in your wedding. He was threatened with various terrifying consequences if he objected at the wedding from multiple other pilots, but he stayed true to his word and celebrated with them. For once, the idea of you being Mrs. Neil Vikander didn’t hurt. He never showed anyone, but he had a small tattoo -a flower- to represent your callsign. Getting a few purple lines wasn’t as creative as the violet flower.

Uncle Hangman was very different from Bar Hangman. He was an incredible godfather and spoiled your kids relentlessly. You and Omaha were proud at his growth, even if you both knew he still loved you. He made it a life’s mission to protect you and your family, and he did. When you were both flying another extremely covert mission, he took a fatal hit just to make sure you made it home alive even if he didn’t. Little actions showed that even in death, he was truly a guardian angel. Your kids heard stories from everyone of Jake Seresin, pilot by day and guardian angel by night.

“Lt. Jake ‘Spider’ Vikander ready for take off,”

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So the reader was supposed to end up with Hangman, but the more I kept writing, the more I fell in love with Omaha and couldn’t think of a way to cut things off with him. Sorry to all my Hangman peeps (I’m with you)

#top gun maverick #rooster #captain pete maverick mitchell #jake hangman seresin #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #omaha top gun #omaha x reader #neil omaha vikander #neil omaha vikander x reader #neil vikander x reader

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imawkwardlysoc · 11 months

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the night of nights

Summary- The Dagger Squad plus Mav and Ice get invited to the Met Gala (Based on a conversation @mvngokkwritings, @skiddit, @marianatrenchprobably, and I had)

Wordcount- 1,761

The first May of the month. Everyone has been waiting for this day ever since the last one. The themed carpet covers the steps of the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art as it waits for celebrities, politicians, and designers to walk on the steps as their pictures are taken. The off-white carpet with red, white, and blue stripes drawn along it matched the theme for this year’s Met Gala: "Serving America: Fashion from the Past to Present”. Fans from all over New York crowded in front of the Carlyle Hotel behind the barricades, waiting for celebrities to come out of the hotel in their outfits.

Currently, in the presidential suite of the Carlyle Hotel, the Dagger Squad along with their captain and his husband were getting ready for this event. All of them were still freaking out that they got the chance to be invited to this event. Over the past years since the mission, all of them would crowd in Mav and Ice’s theater room- yes they have a theater room, they have that type of money- and watch the live stream. All of them would boo at all of the men that would come in the basic black suit and tie while they cheer for the women and the men who actually made the effort of not wearing the black suit. After the live stream, all of them would dream of going to the Met Gala and meeting all types of celebrities while munching on food, and sipping on the most expensive champagne ever. Now they get the chance to go to this event as representatives of the US Navy.

*Back in December*

The squadron sat in the classroom and waited for their captain to come in for the last-minute meeting.

“Does anyone know what this meeting is about?” Omaha asked.

“Rooster?” Everyone looked at the mustache man.

“How am I supposed to know?” Rooster shrugged his shoulders. “Mav doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Please tell me it’s not another suicide mission,” Ruben groaned.

“Don’t worry, it’s not.” Everyone stood up when they heard Mav’s voice. “Sit down.”

Everyone sat down and Mav sat on one of the empty tables than standing behind the podium.

“I’m going to be straight to the point and tell you that we have been invited to the Met Gala in May,” Mav told them.

“What?!” All of them questioned.

Everyone started to throw Mav a bunch of questions which he tried to answer but told all of them to shut it and he’ll answer them.

“Look, the theme is Serving America: Fashion from the Past to Present and it showcases fashion in America from the Revolutionary War to now,” Mav explained. “Anna Wintour asked the SECNAV if the Navy is willing to send one of its best squadrons to help raise money and they asked Ice if he could send us. Ice and I talked about it and it’s a good idea. It’s just up to you guys if you want to go.”

“If any of you say no, you’re out of the squad,” Hangman threatened.

“You don’t have that power, Bagman,” Phoenix replied.

“That’s true, but we all know who does,” the Texan looked at their captain.

“Yeah, Ice wouldn’t do that,” Mav shot the idea down.

“I was talking about you but okay,” Hangman shrugged his

“Well, that’s the meeting. Please get back to either Ice or me by the end of the week,” Mav told them. “Now, you’re all dismissed.”

All of them said their goodbyes and left the classroom filled with excitement.

*Present Day*

After months of preparation and talking to designers, everyone got into their outfits after getting their hair and makeup done.

“Phoenix, Halo, you two look amazing,” Ice complimented them.

Halo donned an outfit created by an indie Asian fashion designer that represented her Asian heritage and gave homage to her family who immigrated here from their homeland. Phoenix on the other hand is wearing a dress resembling the dresses from the 1940s but made out of old uniforms from the Navy. The guys, on the other hand, it was a mix. Harvard, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Omaha, Coyote, and Yale wore intricate outfits which represented them in the Navy but also represented them in some way. Bob went kind of a safer route with a lavish suit with a bolo tie still. Rooster and Hangman, on the other hand, are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum with their outfits.

“Please tell me that you’re not going to the Met Gala in that,” Phoenix laughed as she saw Rooster walk into the room with his outfit on.

“What?” Rooster questioned. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s too basic,” Fanboy explained as he adjusted his shirt. “We constantly roast all of the men that come in basic black suits and now you’re one of those men.”

“What do you want me to wear then?” The mustache man questioned. “My Hawaiian shirt with jeans?”

“Yes!” Everyone in the room exclaimed.

“Let’s just hope Hangman-” Omaha was interrupted when Hangman walked into the room.

So many thoughts came into everyone’s head when they saw him. One of them was how did the Navy approve his outfit. It took a lot of convincing to let Mav and Ice add some sparkle to their uniforms. All of them wondered how much convincing it took them to approve of Hangman’s outfit.

Hangman donned a sleeveless leather vest with a short-sleeved dress shirt underneath. With his pants situation, he wore shorts that fell two inches or so below his bulge while pairing them with ass-less chaps.

“Rooster is serving basic while Hangman serving cunt-try,” Coyote let out a laugh.

“I may have misinterpreted the theme,” Hangman grinned.

“No, you didn’t,” Rooster shook his head.

“How did you even get the Navy to approve this?” Halo questioned.

Hangman shrugged his shoulders and looked at himself in the mirror while everyone was still processing what he was wearing. After getting ready for a few more minutes, the squadron with their fathers headed out of the suite and headed down to the party bus.

“Remember, we are representing the US Navy,” Ice announced. “Please don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“Um sir, have you seen what Hangman is wearing?” Bob quipped which caused Phoenix to give him a high-five.

“I need to call my therapist after seeing that,” Fritz took a swig of his drink.

“All of y’all are just jealous that I’m pulling this off,” Hangman scoffed.

Everyone else rolled their eyes and they finally got to the steps. All fourteen of them headed out of the party bus and all of them admired the steps. The view of flashing lights from the cameras came into view as they heard the photographers shout celebrities' names. They went through security before standing in line to step on the carpet. All of the members of the squadron started to fangirl/boy over the celebrities that they’d seen so far.

“Mothers,” Phoenix and Fanboy whispered under their breaths as they saw Anne Hathaway and Jessica Chastine walk the carpet.

Soon it was time for them to walk the carpet. Despite them being on a suicide mission, all of them felt nervous. Even Mav and that man faced death a couple of times.

“Wow, everyone’s loving Hangman’s outfit aren’t they?” Payback questioned all of the focus on Hangman.

“Oh don’t be surprised if he shows up on the best-dressed list tomorrow,” the Ivies said simultaneously.

“Do any of you still find it creepy when they do this?” Halo questioned.

Everyone nodded their heads and walked up the steps. Thankfully they didn’t get pulled into interviews so they just went straight up to the top of the steps. All of them individually got the chance to talk to Anna Wintour for twenty seconds before walking into the museum.

All of the exhibits showed fashion throughout America’s history. From different centuries to different decades, there were outfits from that era with placards telling some details.

“Wow, the Navy uniforms changed,” all of them looked at the uniforms.

“How did they make them more?” Rooster questioned what to say next.

“Straight?” Everyone replied.

“That wasn’t the word but that also works,” Rooster shrugged his shoulders.

They soon left the Navy exhibit since it was time for the dinner and performances. Everyone was seated at separate tables since Anna didn’t want anyone who knew each other to sit together. Everyone sat with some interesting people but I think Mickey’s table was the best. He sat with Doja Cat, Adele, Luke Combs, Niall Horan, and Bill Nye. It was a weird mix but they vibed with each other. Everyone else had interesting people at their table but Mickey’s were the far best. They were the life of the gala with the vibe they were giving. Especially when Shania Twain was the performer of the evening. Everyone got out of their seats and Mickey walked over to where his squadron was so they can jam out together. Hangman somehow got dragged and got to dance with Shania when she sang I Feel Like A Woman.

“We’re seeing the same thing right?” Phoenix downed her drink. “We’re not inebriated on drinks or drugs.”

“We’re not high on drugs right?” Ice raised his eyebrow as he looked at his children.

“Okay, why is everyone looking at me?” Fritz whined.

“Do you not remember what happened last time?” Omaha questioned.

“It was one time!” Fritz threw his hands up in the air.

Everyone shook their heads and some of them went out to look at the exhibits while some of them stayed in the main area to dance some more. Soon after, people started to leave since the after-party was coming up and they needed to get ready, which included the Dagger Squad.

“All of you better don’t do anything bad at the after-party,” Ice told them. “Remember we are still representatives of the United States Navy.”

“Just don’t add or subtract to the population. That’s all we’re asking,” Mav added.

“Don’t worry,” all of them promised.

“Alright, go have fun,” Ice dismissed them.

Everyone who was dressed up in nice suits and dresses left the hotel again to the club.

Did they do anything stupid? No, well most of them. Did they add and/or subtract to the population? Thankfully they didn’t. Did they represent the US Navy well? I guess they did and that was the goal.

The next day, all of the daggers were on the best-dressed list. Well most of them… Rooster might’ve been roasted on Twitter…

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

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Call Sign Crack

Dagger Squad members x GN!Reader

A/N: Some parts will have members of the Dagger Squad as Boyfriends, Girlfriends, Fiancees, and/ or best friends but you can read it however you want to. I just wanted to spice things up. Also, some parts the reader knows the squad while some parts they don’t.

This is absolute crack; I have been working on this for months and I have no regrets for what you are about to read but do please enjoy!

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His call sign Hangman…

“You know how he’ll joke about his name being hungman instead of his actual call sign?” You ask.

“Yeah?” The one you learned to be Phoenix, with Bob and Fanboy beside her, all look at you with a weary expression.

“Well,” you lean in.

They have a feeling on where this conversation is going, and they’re still not prepared for it.

“He’s not wrong,” you bite your lip to keep your giggles to yourself.

“Gross,” she groans.

Fanboy tosses his head back finishing his drink, wanting the alcohol to remove this conversation from his memory.

Bob drops his head down onto the table.

Jake notices this going down as he walks back with more drinks (which are most definitely going to be needed). “What’d you do?”

“What?” You turn to him, sticking your bottom lip out ever so slightly.

He narrows his eyes at you, “don’t give me that look. I know that look and it screams trouble.”

“You exaggerate.”

“No, no,” Javy interjects. “He’s right. I’ve seen that look; it just screams trouble.”

“Well, why don’t I just tell the other where you got that nickname of yours, huh?”

He blinks once before patting his friend’s shoulder, “have fun you too.”

“That’s what I thought, Javy!” You shout, leaning up in your chair.

“Shut up!”

“They told us about your made-up call sign,” Natasha groans.

“Oh, is that all?”

The three groan and leave you two alone, they can’t handle this topic anymore.

His call sign Bob…

“Why do you call him Bobby pin?” Asks the one with the mustache, you think his name started with a B. Oh, you got it, Bradley. He always texts you from Bob’s phone but he uses his call sign… and you can’t remember that right now either.

‘Maybe it’s time to start drinking water,’ you think. You get out of your head and realize they’re waiting for an answer.

“Because,” you give your boyfriend a sweet smile before turning back towards the others, “Bobby can pin me anywhere, any time he wants.”

You want to say the cocky one’s name is Wesley… that can’t be right, but he spits out his drink, slapping his chest to keep him from choking, any more than he already is.

The man (who always stands beside him, clearly the blond’s friend) pats his back.

Natasha shakes her head, sipping her drink. She knows how you can be; she’s heard some calls and read the letters; and she thinks (but has yet to tell you) you’re even better in person.

“Couldn’t have given me a little warning, Baby on Board?” Jake whispers.

“He can’t deny it. He knows it’s true.”

Bob shakes his head, chuckling before taking a sip.

His call sign Rooster…

“Cock fighter!” You shout less than a foot away from your boyfriend.

Bradley sighs, “yeah?”

“Here you are,” you smile at him, kissing his cheek.

“Did they just call you cock fighter?” A tall man in his khaki navy outfit asks.

You glance over at him, wondering why he seems familiar. Oh, now you know, it’s Jake.

Bradley sighs, “I wish I could deny it but no.”

“I’m afraid to ask why,” Natasha, the only female sitting with a few of the others at the moment says.

You remember her more than the others, she’s always so nice when you call (and the only person you like talking to who’s in the same squad as Bradley, you have yet to actually get to know any of the others).

“You should be,” he jokes.

You smack his chest. “Shut up.”

He gives you his dazzling smile. “I love it though,” he assures you, pecking your jaw.

“You’re such a bad liar Bradley.”

“Chicken’s being sweet and it’s making me nauseous.” Jake walks away.

“Do you have any more embarrassing nicknames for Brad?” asks Natasha.

You smirk, “tons.”

His call sign Fanboy…

“Boy he sure is a fan, of me.” Reuben shakes his head.

Mickeys warned him about the bad jokes and puns you can make but he was not expecting them to be this bad.

“Please, tell me I didn’t hear that,” Jason (that doesn’t sound right as you try to think of his name after only meeting him once) says.

“You did and I only have a minor regret about it. But he got his call sign because of his love for Star Trek.”

“That I could I see,” the one with the flaming bird name… PHOENIX, yeah that’s her call sign, adds.

“Of course, they named him after his nerdiness.”

You pout, pulling your fiancé (of seven months) in for a hug, “don’t be mean, birdy.”

She raises her hands in a defensive manner even though she knows your joking.

“Besides it’s only the font that would show you his nerdiness, as you like to say.” You can feel the vibrations of his chuckle against you.

He pecks your cheek, “thanks for the defense, babe.”

You give him one of your dazzling million-dollar smiles, “always.”

“Is there anything else we should know about his call sign?” Natasha asks, having fun talking to you.

You nod, “so much. And I mean it, like you don’t even know.”

His call sign Fritz

“Hi Ritzy,” you greet him with a smile.

“Hey, you made it.” He hands the pool cue to one of his navy buddy’s so he can hug you.

“Of course, I did.”

He invited you to come and hangout with his buddies, there was no way you’d miss that. It’s always good to get out of the house once in a while.

“Ritzy?” Neil asks.

You turn towards him. “That’s just his cute nickname.”

“So, he has a dirty one?” Some blond pilot asks.

You’re still working on learning their names. You shrug, “not really.”

“That sounds like a definitely,” the same cocky blond says.

“Okay, this is stupid, but you know ritz crackers.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh God,” Billy mumbles to himself, covering his face.

You shush him. “His all-time favorite snacks are the crackers, right.”

“Okay. What about the F?” One of the others asks.

Your silence speaks volumes.

“Oh, gross,” says the blond.

Callie groans, shivering in disgust.

You scoff, “I’m sure you’ve already gotten like five girls’ numbers and one pair of panties to go with it.”

“What about the Z?” the girl, beside the adorable guy with glasses, asks.

You shrug, “it makes it fun.”

His call sign Coyote

“Hey, Wile e coyote,” you hold your fist up.

He fists bumps you before handing you, his drink.

“Like the cartoon?” Jake questions with his brows knit together.

“Yep,” you nod. “It’s fun.”

“And childish.” Well look who’s mister judgey.

“We all need to have a little fun and something to remind us of our childhood sometimes. It’s a good thing.”

Jake raises his hands, “I’m- I’m not judging-”

The one with the mustache and the other with the glasses, fake cough into their hands and say, “liar.”

“Hey! No one asked you two. You’re not even a part of this conversation.”

“We’re helping you face your fears,” the one named after a chicken says.

You blame Jake for the false call sign you think of.

“And my fear is?”

“Being proven wrong,” Bob murmurs, munching on his snacks.

“Oh, shut up. No one asked you.”

“You did,” you and Javy say.

His friend walks away and you two chuckle.

His call sign Payback

“This is why your nickname- sorry, call sign,” you correct yourself.

“You remembered,” Reuben’s lips tug to the side into a smirk.

You smile, “I did. Anyway, back to what I was saying. This is why your call sign is Payback.”

He hums, “and why is that?”

Mickey takes a seat beside his friend, “what are we talking about?”

You rip the wrapper off your straw and take a sip of your drink before talking.

“About how bad he,” you point to your fiancé, “is at paying someone back.”

“Oh, God. Are they doing their speech about his call sign again?” Natasha asks Jake, who hands Bob and Bradley their drinks.

He nods, taking a seat beside her with his arm resting across the back of her chair. “Yep.”

“Does everyone know?”

“You don’t ever not say it,” Bradley points out.

“Bite me, Bradshaw.”

“I don’t think your fiancé would approve.”

Reuben interrupts the almost fight with a dry, fake laugh. “Ha ha. Thank you for that Rooster.” He turns to you, “ignore him. And he paid for drinks today.”

“Yeah,” Bradley chuckles, leaning back in the chair until the words process in his mind. “Wait- what?” He frantically searches his pockets for his wallet.

“This reminds me of the time Maverick couldn’t pay for bill the night before your mission,” you comment.

“You weren’t there,” Billy points out.

“You don’t know that.”

No one says anything.

“Okay, fine. But I was there in spirit, and it feels like I was there whenever I hear the story.”

Her call sign Phoenix…

You enter the bar and walk over towards the back, where Natasha told you she’d most likely be. You smile and stand behind her, resting your hand on her back so she knows it’s you.

You thought it would be smart if you two had some kind of signal so she wouldn’t do anything she’d feel bad about later.

“Hey, hottie,” you tease her, knowing it would piss one of the guys off. You just couldn’t remember who it was she was complaining about.

Just as you predicted, one of the pilots (the cocky one) scoffs. “She can call you that but one time I make a joke and you get defensive. How is that fair?”

“Maybe because I’m her partner and you’re not.”

Mickey, Reuben, and Bob chuckle.

“Burn.”

“Coyote! You’re my friend.”

He shrugs, “it was a good burn.”

“Mine was good,” he mumbles.

“Your’s sucked, Bagman,” Natasha teases him.

“I’m going to get more beer,” he grumbles as he walks away.

“Your friends are fun.”

“Wait, till they’ve had a few drinks,” she tells you.

You hum, “can’t wait.”

His call sign Omaha

“Do you know how he got his name?” Brigham asks, occupying the empty seat across from you.

You tilt your head, “maybe. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs, “I was curious if you knew, I’ve overheard a couple of the other stories. Guess, I wanted to know if his landed more on the embarrassing side or not.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“If he doesn’t have a story, that’s cool too but I’m bored. No one’s here yet.”

You sigh, “fine, fine. I’ll tell you. It isn’t much of a story anyway it’s just about something he likes.”

He shrugs, “okay then what does he like?”

Neil grabs your drinks and starts heading back to your “special” table.

“He likes football.”

“Oh, no,” Neil mumbles to himself once he hears what the two of you are talking about.

“What? He told me he didn’t like football when I asked him if he wanted to come to the game with me.”

“Blame them,” your caring boyfriend points to you.

“I was going to say that you punk.” You smack his shoulder. “We were taking a mini vacation trip away and the whole weekend plan was non-refundable.”

Brigham takes a sip of his drink. “Fine, I’ll accept that answer but only because I have someone to give me all the dirt on you.”

You three laugh until a few of the others from their squad come over and drag the boys away, leaving you alone but not for long because the girls drag you over to play pool with them.

Her call sign Halo

“I’ve always wanted to hear the story about how you two met,” Logan says, picking through the nachos.

Jake raises a brow. “Seriously?”

“What?” The man asks with a full mouth.

“Don’t judge him. Ignore him,” you tell Logan as you shove Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you because I can remember it as clear as day. I was riding my- God- what was it?”

“You said you remembered it as clear as day,” Billy points out taking a sip of his drink.

“And I rode my scooter and bike around a lot. Anyway, I decide that I’m gonna move off the sidewalk because too many neighbors are out walking their dogs and expect me to move so I go into the street, not too far away from the curb though. And then all of a sudden, I’m on the ground-”

“Did you get hit by a car?”

“Did you trip over a rock?”

“Were there any annoying little brats laughing their asses off?”

You furrow your brows at Bob’s question. “No, you clearly need some therapy, but we’ll talk more about that later. All of a sudden, there’s a person in front of me and the first thing I think is-”

“She’s an angel,” Callie finishes.

“Exactly but the only reason I said thought that was because I saw a halo.”

“That was an oddly touching story,” Neil tells you, stealing the nachos away from Logan.

“You sound so impressed.”

“Believe me, I am.”

“That’d be a great way to get some numbers,” Jake theorizes.

“Oh God. What did I start?”

His call sign Harvard

“You know I’ve always been curious about something,” Javy says, setting his napkin down.

“How did you get your call sign Harvard?”

“Has no one ever heard this story?” You ask before turning to your boyfriend. “Is it even a story? I feel like it might be more of a fact than anything.”

He thinks about it for a minute, “yeah, I guess you’re right but this- this isn’t the time to talk about it. I mean, we’re having dinner right now. Maybe some other time.”

“We’ve never asked before.”

“Come one, we want to know.”

“We won’t make fun of you.” The others comment and reassure him.

He’s still a little hesitant to say anything.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re gonna be a jerk and make fun of him, Bagman,” Natasha says, with a snarky tone as she snatches the bowl of biscuits from him.

The man lets out a dry laugh. “Kind as always Princess Phoenix.”

“It was his dream school if he wasn’t able to become a pilot,” you explain, not wanting to listen to the two arguing.

“That’s nice,” Bob tells him.

Brigham nervously chuckles.

“Better than mine,” Bagman, nope. Ah, Hangman says.

Everyone chuckles before digging into their meals.

His call sign Yale

“How’s my goat?”

Everyone except for Callie and Billy turn towards you.

“I’m sorry-” Neil starts.

“Did you say goat?” Bradley finishes.

“Is that a new sex thing?” asks Jake.

Bob scoffs, “you would know.”

Jake points to the WSO with glasses. “Can it, Baby on Board.”

The man raises his hands, “I’m just being honest.”

“Oh, that’s it.” Who knew Bob was so fast?

“Okay, first off. It’s not a sex thing, I swear. Second, it’s because Logan was really into mythology as a kid and had like a thousand books about it and we were looking up random things one night. I happened to look up yale because that’s the school everyone in his family had gone to and actually managed to get successful careers out of what they studied, not that that’s important. What was I saying?”

Mickey shrugs, “you lost me at the sex part.”

“It wasn’t a sex thing,” you groan.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, right. Yale plus mythology equals goat.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Jake has his hands on his knees as he pants. “Hide me.”

“You’re the chaser,” Callie points out.

“Get back here Baby on Board!”

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mooncherrv · 1 year

Text

Building Legos w/ Dagger Squad

Character(s): Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw", Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Reuban "Payback" Fitch, Javy "Coyote" Machado, Callie "Halo" Bassett, Billy "Fritz" Avalone, Neil "Omaha" Vikander, Logan "Yale" Lee, Brigham "Harvard" Lennox x Reader

Summary: Just being all fluffy and building legos with your fav pilots

Author's Note: Including all the pilots because i think they all deserve love and not just the main ones also i need more halo content and if nobody is gonna give it to me imma do it myself

Masterlist

Hangman

Hangman gets you two a few of the botanicals sets. He originally was gonna make them all in his free time to gift to you but you walked in on him making the succulent set and just sat down and started to help him. Eventually it just became a weekend activity for the two of you to do while a movie played in the background. Eventually when you accumulate too many built sets you end up giving them to his nieces and nephews.

Rooster

Rooster loves legos. It's not something he talks about a lot but he really enjoys building the NASA sets with you and talking about all the facts he knows about space. One day while building a spaceship set with him you asked about it and he explained how when he was little him and his dad would build spaceships out of the stray legos he had and for a bit he wanted to be an astronaut.

Phoenix

Pheonix also gets you some of the botanical sets. She loves to give you little lego flowers from time to time. When you build them she mostly just watches you while you build each set. Between the two of you there is quite the collection of stray lego roses scattered across the apartment.

Bob

Bob had a decent lego collection as a kid already so into adult hood he just kept building them. His favorite to build with you are the architecture ones. He's a man that has a lot of knowledge about random things so as you build them he explains historical events or facts about whatever it is you are building. When you two built the New York said he kept mentioning places in the city he had visited and how he couldn't wait till the two of you traveled there together so he could show you all the things he liked in the city.

Fanboy

Y'all are building the Star Wars sets. No question about it. He definitely gets the expensive Millennium Falcon set and tries to hide if from you but one night at around 3am you woke up to go to the bathroom and saw him missing. He was sitting in the living room with a lamp on building the set. He tried to hide it but instead of saying anything you just sat down and began helping him. When you two finished building the set all you did was look at him and say "Can't believe you hid this from me." before walking back to bed.

Payback

Payback doesn't actually build legos. He'd much rather sit back with a cup of coffee or tea and just silently observe you. He'll gladly help you when you are confused or lost from the instructions of the larger sets but other than that he simply enjoys sitting in silence with you and observing you build each set. He likes to see the smile on your face once you finish each set.

Coyote

Coyote doesn't buy his own legos but sometimes Fanboy gives him a few sets so he likes to build them with you when he's got the free time. He honestly doesn't even really look at the sets when Fanboy gives them to him he just shows up and is like "Hey let's build this." and tosses it onto the table. He just likes to spend quality time with you and enjoys that there is a physical product to put on display to show the time you spent together.

Halo

Halo enjoys the art sets. She never really built any legos as a kid so you are the main reason she started building sets. She'll make you each a cup of tea and sit down at the table with you to build each set while singing along to whatever has been on your playlists recently. If it's a set that allows her to she will gladly hang them on the walls around your houese.

Fritz

Much like Payback, Fritz doesn't really build the sets and simply observes you building them. He does occasionally help you build some like the Batman set you got he helped build since he really enjoys Batman. Most of the time he'll have a movie on in the background while he is watching you build each set.

Omaha

Omaha is another big fan of Star Wars and him and Fanboy definitely send each other photos of all their lego sets. He only got into legos when he met Fanboy so he has always built them with someone and never alone. He actually doesn't like building alone because he is so used to having someone with him. Even if he is super excited about a set, if you are busy, he will wait specifically till you have free time to even open the box and look inside. He loves to be wrapped up in a blanket with you and sitting on the living room floor together building the different sets.

Yale

Yale likes the Harry Potter sets. He has a lot of memories associated with the movies from when he was a bit younger so those sets always stood out to him. He doesn't have many sets but one time you got him the Hogwarts castle set and he insisted you two build it together while watching the movies. Since then, he always builds the sets he gets with you while watching Harry Potter.

Harvard

Harvard LOVES to help you build the superhero sets. Similar to Fanboy, he probably bought one of the super expensive sets to build but rather than hiding it he proudly walked up to you with the biggest smile on his face asking if you wanted to build it with him over the weekend. He has an entire shelf to display all the sets he has and he puts all the ones the two of you built together in the middle to proudly show them off.

#top gun #top gun fic #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #callie halo bassett #billy fritz avalone #neil omaha vikander #logan yale lee #brigham harvard lennox #top gun x reader

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swirlysmile · 2 years

Note

I've had a phrase on my mind for days, if you want to, can you write something for hangman x reader where the reader says "whenever I'm with you I smile so much my face actually hurts cause I'm not used to it"

THIS IS SO FUDGING CUTE!

word count: 687

warnings; mentions of alcohol and throw up

Smile

“These past few months have been the best of my life.” You say, and it’s a pretty deep confession. You’re on your fifth ever-date with Jake.

It’s crazy how much time he’s able to make for you in between missions, and god does it make you feel valued.

“Like, moving here and meeting you.”

“Yeah, tons of people think I’m the best thing that’s happened to them.” He jokes, and you snuggle into his arm a little more. The bonfire on the beach is providing little warmth.

Really it’s a sad excuse for a fire. The flame is dwindling thanks to the seabreeze and the few drinks that have been puked onto it. Basically, the poor little fire, and some of Hangman’s friends, aren’t having the best day.

Jake's jacket, and arm, is draped over your shoulders while you watch Payback challenge a drunk Rooster to a dance off. Payback is perfectly sober, after all he is Phoenix, Fanboy, and Halo’s designated driver.

Halo and Phoenix are sitting by a rock on the beach pointing their phones (and fingers) at Rooster's very uncoordinated chicken dance while laughing.

You can’t even blame them, he looks stupid.

You’re located right outside the Hard Deck. Jake claims that this is the best area of beach in all of Miramar, and you don’t know if it’s for sentimental value or not.

“When we first got here, I was a dick.” He says, and you raise an eyebrow in question. “I know, I know. I was even more of a dick though. Maverick didn’t like that very much, claimed it was ‘tearing the group apart’, and he made all of us play football on the beach.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yeah. I think that’s the reason these guys are some of my best friends.”

You smile for the umpteenth time because he’s finally starting to tell you important things about himself. Not just his favorite beer, which he argues is important. Not just his favorite color, or least favorite school subject.

Not just icebreakers.

You move out from under his very warm arm to give him a small kiss on the cheek before you move it back into place.

Your head is resting on his shoulder and he takes a sip of beer.

“What odd people to choose as friends.” You tease. You love his friends. They’re just the greatest, and Jake thinks so too, even if he’ll never admit it.

“Tell that to Mav.” He snorted.

“You chose to stick around, Bagman.” Bob smiles, and he’s also filming Rooster ‘dance’. Payback hasn’t even had a chance to step in, not that he wants to.

It’s not long before Rooster will be hurling, whether that’s over a toilet or a fire you don’t know. For someone so drunk, he’s moving a lot.

“You know Bob, you should really get up there. Strut your stuff, challenge Bradshaw.” Hangman smiles

“Hell no.”

The smile on your face gets infinitely wider and you start laughing.

“Who do you think we could convince though?”

“I don’t know, Omaha has had quite a few beers. So has Yale, and Phoenix.”

“Yeah but Yale and Phoenix are coherent enough to laugh at Rooster, so I don’t think they’d work.” You say.

“Fanboy?”

“We could get Payback in on it too. Perfect blackmail- and entertainment.” Hangman grins, evil genius lighting up his features.

Fanboy is laying in the sand face towards the tide that is getting dangerously close with every wave.

“Hey Fanboy,” Bob approaches him, and Fanboy rolls over.

“Oh hey, it’s Bob!”

You’re still sitting with Hangman waiting for shit to go down, and go down it does.

You’re beaming, laughter drowning everything else out.

“My face hurts, so bad.” You say in between drawing breaths. Fanboy is making a fool out of himself, and you’re definitely going to be begging Phoenix for that recording. “And why is that, sugar?”

“Everytime I’m with you I smile so much. I guess my facial muscles aren’t used to it, or something.”

“You’re so cute.” He says, leaning in to kiss you.

Of course Phoenix had to record that part too.

257 notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 6 months

Text

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

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sarahsmi13s · 1 year

Text

Lieutenant Rogers - pt 1

Call Sign ‘Star’

(not my gifs)

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

characters: y/n rogers, neil vikander, the entire dagger squad (admirals and captain included), penny benjamin, sam wilson, bucky barnes, james rhodes (this chapter only), john walker, lemar hoskins, misc. characters from both universes

warnings: language, blood, fighting, sexual inuendoes, john walker, cannon dangers, cannon deaths, suggestive themes, if i miss any please let me know

word count: ~3.2k

a/n: if you couldn’t already tell, i’m OBSESSED with crossovers. reader is the daughter of steve rogers, and has the super soldier serum as well

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

summary: 13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

reader’s call sign: ‘star’

pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

**************

You stared at Sam from your spot leaning on your bar. “Say something.” “Why? Why do you want to give me the shield?” “Because you're his child, Y/N. It should belong to you.” You shook your head, “No, Sam, he gave it to you. It’s yours.” “Yes, which is why I am now giving it to you. If it’s mine I can do what I want with it.”

You rubbed your face, “Sam, I can’t take up the mantle. Dad wanted you to take it over, and I agree with him.” “Why can’t you take it?” “Because I'm on active duty, and the Navy is where I belong.” Sam hung his head.

“I can’t fill his shoes. This shield- it means something to so many people. Me included. But Steve gave it that meaning. I’m gonna let him down.” You sighed and pulled Sam out of his chair. “Sam, I won’t begin to understand why you feel that way. You could never let him down.” You hugged him, “He trusted you with it. And I do too. I know you’ll only do what you think is best.”

He hugged you back, sighing as he looked at the photo on your mantle in your house and the folded flag in its protective box. Sam wrapped his arms a little tighter around you before letting go.

“I’ll let you get back to getting ready. Have a good night Y/N.” He walked past you to the door. “Sam, wait!”

He stopped with his hand on the handle, “You sure you don’t want to stay? I’m sure Neil wouldn’t mind you staying for dinner.” He shook his head, “I’ve got plans tonight, but maybe some other time.” You nodded, “Okay. Call me if you need anything. Love ya Sam!” “Love you too kid!”

*************

When Sam told you that his plan was to turn the shield over to the museum for the Captain America exhibit, you weren’t happy. But you realized that this was what Sam thought was best, what he thought was right. You trusted Sam, so you supported him.

He asked you to be there at the ceremony, for support and reassurance. So, that’s what you did, with permission from your superiors of course.

Wearing your dress blues, you stood right next to Rhodey. “Lieutenant Rogers.” “Colonel Rhodes.” He sighed, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m surprised to see you here.” “Is that because I’m on active duty, or because of a more personal thing, sir?” He chuckled, “Bit of both.” You sighed, “I’m here to support Sam. I know he needs it from me. He sure as hell isn’t getting it from Bucky.”

“Has he even talked to Bucky since the funeral?” You shook your head, “I don’t think so.” “Have you?” “I’ve tried. I’m not sure he wants to talk to me.” Rhodey just nodded.

Sam stepped up to the podium, “Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” The crowd chuckled. “The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil.”

Sam paused and tears burned the backs of your eyes. “We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we’re in.” He looked at you and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“Symbols… are nothing without the men and women that give them meaning,” he nodded down to the shield. “And this thing,” he chuckled fondly and picked it up. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol. But it’s more about the man who propped it up, and he’s gone.”

You exhaled shakily and looked down, your standard bun not allowing your hair to cover your face.

Sam looked at you before continuing, “So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future.” You looked up and made eye contact with Sam, him giving you a small smile; almost as if to say, You’re his legacy and you are the future.

He looked at the banner behind him. “So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you…” You walked up to be beside Sam as they placed the shield in its display case. Cameras flashing everywhere. You both clinched your jaws.

To him, this was to honor Steve. But to you, this was like you were truly putting him to rest, and you really didn’t know how to feel.

Afterwards you, Rhodey, and Sam were talking with some government official (that’s literally what the IMDb says). “Thanks again for comin’ forward with the shield, Sam. It was the right decision.” They shook hands and he walked away, nodding to you as he left.

Your phone rang, “I’m sorry, I need to take this.” Both nodded and watched you walk away. “This is Lieutenant Rogers.” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Rhodey and Sam walk away.

“Star, I know you’re taking care of something personal, but I need you back on base as soon as possible.” You nodded, “Yes, sir. It should take me about four hours to get back.” “That’s alright, just get here.” “Yes sir.” You hung up and went to find Sam and Rhodey.

You walked into the exhibit, running into Rhodey making his way out. He noticed the rush you were in. “You get orders?” “Yeah. I need to be back on base as soon as possible.” He nodded, “He’s back there.” You followed his hand, seeing Sam by the shield display. “Thank you.”

You moved past Rhodey. “Hey, Star?” You straightened and turned around. “Whatever it is, give ‘em hell alright?” You nodded, “Of course, sir.” You saluted each other before you moved to Sam.

When you came up beside him, he spoke first.

“Thank you for being here, Y/N. I know this wasn’t what you were expecting me to do,” Sam said with his head hung between his shoulders. “I don’t think anyone was expecting it honestly.” He looked back up, looking at you before moving his eyes to the exhibit.

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I’m needed back on base. I’ve gotta go.” Sam nodded and looked down at you, “You better get going, it’s a four hour drive.” You nodded as well and hugged Sam.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said once he pulled away, patting your shoulder. “Always do. Tell Sarah and the kids ‘hi’ for me okay?” “Of course.”

When you got back to base, you changed before meeting with your commanding officer, seeing Omaha and his WSO, Halo, there as well.

Once you were allowed in you stood at attention in front of his desk. “Sir, may I ask why you needed me back so urgently?” “You’ve all been called back to TOPGUN.” You looked down at him in surprise before looking at the two next to you. “Sir?” “I wasn’t informed of why, but you along with 10 others were called back. You’re due to report in two weeks to North Island.” You nodded, “Yes sir.”

Since you had moved to North Island after graduating TOPGUN five years ago, you and your boyfriend were allowed to move in early, to get a feel for the island again.

*******

A few days into your stay at the North Island you were watching TV while Omaha had gone to get groceries.

You had finished your beer and were getting up to get a new one, when a news broadcast took over the rerun you were watching.

“Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Everyday Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us.” The man said.

You recognized him as the guy who was talking to Sam after his speech.

“So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America!”

Your throat dried up as some guy walked out, carrying your father’s shield like it was a damn trophy. Your heart ripped in half. You could already tell this guy was bad news and when he winked at the camera, you nearly threw up.

Tears filled your eyes as you stared at the screen, even though it no longer portrayed the imposter.

You gasped when the bottle shattered in your hand, not even registering how hard you were holding it.

Robotically, you moved to the bathroom, cradling your hand to keep blood off the floor. Then moved routinely as you grabbed what you needed from the drawers and cabinets.

*********

When Neil came home he didn’t expect to see a shattered bottle followed by little droplets of blood on the living room floor and your phone ringing.

But he didn’t panic, instead he set the grocery bags down and went to your phone, seeing “Bird Boy” displayed as the caller ID. He just let it ring as he followed the little droplets to the closed bathroom door.

He looked down at your phone before knocking and saw Sam had called you a lot.

“Baby?” He knocked softly. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened?” When he was met with silence he tried the handle, finding it unlocked. “I’m coming in.” Omaha pushed the door open slowly.

You were sitting on the closed toilet seat with a cut up hand and your other hand slightly shaking with tweezers in it as a small pool of blood was gathering at your feet.

He squatted in front of you, “Doll? You with me?” He wasn’t sure what was going on, maybe you got hit with a bad flashback. But your nod told him it was something else.

He slowly took the tweezers from you, “Wanna tell me what happened?” You inhaled and clenched your jaw as he wiggled a bigger piece of glass out of your hand. “You don’t have to hide it from me…”

As you exhaled, a small sob escaped your throat, “They gave it to someone, Neil. They fucking replaced him, with some Wal-Mart looking asshole.” Omaha clenched his own jaw and exhaled, “I guess that’s why Sam has been trying to get ahold of you.” You nodded, wincing a little as he pulled out some more shards before disinfecting the cuts.

Your phone rang again, but he moved it out of your reach, “After we patch you up. Talk to me about how you feel.” You swallowed, “I want to go UA just to kick this guy’s ass, but I have to focus on this mission, whatever it is. I need to carry on the legacy of Captain America, shield or no shield.”

Omaha smiled and pressed a kiss to your now bandaged hand. “Plus, it’s not like the government cares what I have to say on the matter anyway,” you dryly chuckled, flexing your hand.

He pulled you off the toilet and into a hug, “That’s my girl.” You hummed and kissed his chest, where his dog tags were. “No, but seriously the guy looked like Carl from Up, I swear.” Omaha threw his head back and laughed, “Okay, come on now. How does steak sound?” “With your mom’s corn?” He kissed your nose, “Whatever you want, Star-light.” You giggled and kissed his lips.

Your phone ringing again made you pull away. “I should probably answer him before he flies up here.” Neil nodded, “I’ll get started.” He left to the kitchen and you took your phone to the back porch.

You answered the phone, “Sa-” “Did you see the news?” You sighed, “Yeah, I sure did Sam.” “God, I swear had I known they were gonna do that I would have never-” “Sam, Sam, I know. I know,” you cut him off. “Had I known they were gonna give it to someone I wouldn’t have let you. But Sam, I need you to be honest with me...” “Of course.” “I can’t be involved with this, not until this mission is over. Will you make sure this asshole doesn’t ruin my father’s image? Ruin his legacy?” “You have my word.” You nodded, “Good, good. I’ve gotta go, talk to you later.”

********** *1 Week Later*

Checking to make sure you had everything, you threw on your dad’s aviators and threw your hair into a ponytail. Getting the keys, you got on your bike and sped to the Hard Deck to meet your fellow pilots and boyfriend.

Walking in while sliding your sunglasses on your head, everyone right by the door turned and smiled at you, greeting you as you walked by. And of course you said ‘hello’ back but made minimal conversation as you went to the bar. You didn’t make a big deal out of your presence just yet and just looked around.

“Y/N Rogers, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You turned and smiled at Penny, “Hi Penny.” “Are you here for the same reason they’re here?” You nodded, “Yes ma’am.” She nodded, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb, “Want the usual?” “Yes, please.” She nodded and went to get you an Angry Orchard.

Sure, the serum allowed you to hold your alcohol, you just preferred the cider.

When she came back she smiled, “Hey, don’t worry about this one. It’s on him. I’ll start yours on the next one.” You followed the direction she had nodded her head in, seeing a dark headed guy in a green jacket. You tilted your bottle in thanks and he gave a nod and small smile back.

You turned to the group of pilots at the pool table and decided to make your way over.

You walk over to see Hangman walk away and hear the conversation between Phoenix and Rooster. “Well, he hasn’t changed.” “Nope.” You just smirked and took a seat on the barstool by the pool table, nobody noticing you.

“Check it out,” Fanboy said as he walked over to Phoenix. “More patches.” You glanced around the pillar, seeing the group of 5 khaki clad aviators. Payback did a roll call, “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… Shit, that’s Fritz.” You looked back over at the group in front of you. “What the hell kinda mission is this?” Fanboy asked.

You stood up, boots hitting the hardwood floor, “That’s not the question we should be asking.”

Everyone turned at the sound of your voice. You smirked a little and gestured to the group with the butt end of your bottle, “Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?”

“Star, that you?” You turned your head, seeing Bob, your best friend. “Robert Floyd, damn it’s good to see you.” You hugged him. “How’s Lemoore?” He shrugged giving you a small smile, “It was good when I left it. How are you holdin’ up?” Bob lowered his voice when he said that last part. You returned his previous smile, “Better than I thought I would be..”

“Well would you look at that? Thought the room looked a little brighter,” Hangman rested his arms on your shoulders and his chin on your head.

“Who’s ass you kiss to be here?” You gave Bob a smile before elbowing the Texan in the ribs. “No, Bagman it’s kick, not kiss, and I do believe you’re on the list.” He painfully chuckled, groaning as he stood up, “Still as pointy as every, Star.” You nodded, “Best believe it.” You winked before waving to Bob and going over to your boyfriend.

“Hey, Doll,” Omaha said when you walked up to him. “Hey, Baby.” He kissed the top of your head and threw his arm around you.

As you talked with Halo and Omaha, the music cut out and everyone groaned. But soon, piano notes floated into the air, their distinct sound floating over everyone’s voices.

Phoenix was the first to notice that it was Rooster at the piano and got everyone’s attention. “Hey, guys, come on.” You smiled and grabbed Neil’s hand to pull him with you.

Rooster was warming up his fingers when the bell rang. You turned and caught the same dark haired guy from before hanging his head, then everyone began chanting ‘overboard’.

Omaha winced, “Poor guy.” You chuckled and saw that Hangman, Payback, and Coyote were going over to throw him overboard.

Once he was thrown out, Rooster finally started the song.

You sang along, Neil spinning you around and laughing. “Imma tell the world that you’re mine, mine, mine!” You practically yelled in each other’s faces, but laughed before pulling each other into a kiss. You looked down and noticed that he didn’t have a drink. “Here, watch my drink, I’ll go get you one.” “You don’t have to,” he pulled you closer. “Yeah, but the bar isn’t occupied right now, it’ll only be a second.” He nodded, “Alright.”

You walked up and found Penny looking out the window. “You alright, Pen?” She blinked and nodded as she looked away from the door to you. “Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

You looked to where she was looking and saw once again the dark haired man, this time instead of smiling he looked like he wanted to puke. “Who’s that?” “Captain Pete Mitchell, or Maverick.”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, really?” Penny nodded. You looked at Pete and followed his eyes to Bradley at the piano, and you could put the pieces together. You saw your father with the same look every time he heard a song from his childhood and was reminded of Bucky.

You glanced back to see Omaha dancing with Fritz and you moved to go talk to Mav but he left before you could make it to the door. You sighed and turned back to Penny, who already had the bottle held out to you. “Thanks Pen.”

By the time you made it back over to your boyfriend, Rooster had finished the song and everyone was chanting his name.

**********

After it cooled down, you all regrouped at the pool table. “Star, I didn’t even see you come in! Holy shit, how have you been?” Rooster hugged you, rubbing your back. “Could be worse, all things considered. But how about you?” “Not too bad, not too bad at all.” You smiled and rubbed his shoulder.

He took a sip of his own drink before his brows shot up and he quickly swallowed it. “How are you and Omaha?” You smiled, a blush spreading across your face, “We’re good. We’re really good.” Bradley smiled and patted you on the back before going over to play Phoenix and Bob in a game of pool.

“Hey, Star-light,” Omaha said, and you could just hear the smile in his voice. “Hi, Baby.” “You wanna play a round of pool? Loser has to do whatever the winner says?” You hummed and raised an eyebrow, “You sure you wanna make that bet, Honey?” He hummed back, leaning down into your ear, “Win or lose, I feel it’ll be worth it.” Neil playfully nipped under your ear. “You’re on.”

*************

NEW SERIES ALERT!!!!

I hope you all enjoy this first part in my new cross over series

We’re in for a ride

How do you think the first day at training will go?

tags <3: @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

<3 love ya babes

#omaha x reader #neil omaha vikander #rogers!reader #neil vikander x rogers!reader #lieutenant rogers #top gun maverick #marvel #marvel/top gun maverick #crossovers #dagger squad x reader #call sign: star #falcon and winter solider series #tfatws #john walker #captain america #steve rogers

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

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

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

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

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

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

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

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

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

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

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

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

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

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

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

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

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

Text

The reason I didn't add Rooster and Hangman is because I feel they already have enough fanfics and love

#top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #natasha phoenix trace #callie halo bassett #billy fritz avalone #logan yale lee #brigham harvard lennox #neil omaha vikander

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simpforrooster · 5 months

Text

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

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

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honeysimagines · 2 years

Text

home

pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

plot: at a get together after the mission the dagger squad finds out some things about Rooster, causing Maverick to step up and try and help…

warnings: drinking, references to parental death and past trauma

notes: for K ♡︎, thank you for letting me bother you with this for weeks

words: 7k

It was a bittersweet evening at The Hard Deck but they tried to not let it show. After the successful mission it was time to dismantle their little ragtag group of pilots and for everybody to head back to their former assignments. Sadly Fritz had to fly out in the early afternoon but the rest of the pilots and backseaters had descended upon the bar and shuffled some tables around with Penny’s permission to make a large circle where everybody found a place for at least the next few hours.

It felt good to be back on solid ground. While being in the air was one of the best feelings in Rooster’s mind he was glad to be off the ship again. With the old jukebox playing music and the patrons of the bar talking and laughing together it was a little easier to forget about the events that happened just a few days prior.

“You guys are lucky,” Harvard pointed out after everybody except Bob was a few drinks in, “at least you guys get a few weeks leave.” The other aviators knew it wasn’t coming from a place of malice, had they been in the place of the aviators that didn’t fly the mission they’d probably think exactly the same way. Everybody craved the comfort of home while deployed.

“Yeah,” Omaha added, “Leave would be nice. I wish I could head home, see family. My sister had a baby months ago, never even met the kid and he’s already crawling.”

“Maybe Mav can put in a nice word with the commander. Make it so everybody can go home faster.” Rooster said after taking a drink of his beer, “Although with him there’s always a chance we’d end up shipped out overseas for a few months.”

A few nods and words of agreement greeted Maverick as he made his way back to the group after not so sneakily disappearing to the back of the bar with Penny earlier. At least he was smart enough to get a new beer so he could play it off as just getting another drink, even if none of the other aviators bought it. “What are we talking about?”

“Leave.”

The older man just took his place among his now former students, looking around. “That’s nice. What are everybody’s plans?”

Most of the others just answered with the basics. Going to see family, spending some time with their loved ones. Hangman wanted to use his time for a vacation and Rooster didn’t doubt that in a week there’d be pictures of Hangman’s abs at a beautiful tropical beach all over social media. At least that gave him time to prepare a witty joke he could send in the groupchat to roast the blond.

Realizing he was the only one of the lucky ones that hadn’t shared his plans, Rooster took another drink of his beer, finishing the bottle before putting it down on the table in front of him. “Don’t know yet. Probably going to spend some time catching up with Mav and after that head home to see the missus.”

Several heads whipped around to look at him with a speed that put fighter jets to shame. Rooster was sure he saw poor Bob get whipped in the face by Phoenix’ ponytail hard enough for his glasses to become crooked on his face.

“The what now?!” Multiple voices said loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons but the group skillfully avoided paying attention to them.

Hangman let out a fake cough to hide his reaction but he couldn’t hide the curiosity in his voice as he spoke. “Didn’t know you were married, Rooster.”

“Congrats.” Mavericks' voice tore him out of his thoughts about how Hangman had no reason to know his relationship status. His godfather looked at him with a certain sadness in his eyes that made Rooster mad for a split second before he reminded himself that they were working on mending their relationship and a missed wedding might have been another thing to add to the list of life events they didn’t share like they should have.

“I’m not married.” He paused, trying to find the right words to describe what the two of you were. “It’s an… inside joke with an old friend.”

“Oh that’s-”

“I thought about asking her once but… yeah no I’m not married.” He rambled on, unable to stop himself, almost forgetting about his fellow pilots as he looked at Maverick and the way his eyebrows knit up in confusion.

The rest of the group just looked at him before Halo slapped her knees before standing up, signaling she was ready to leave.

“And that’s our cue. Come on boys, let’s give the Daggers some privacy. You coming with, Coyote?”

“Nah, I’m Hangman’s ride. Can’t leave him with the bunch. He’d just say something to piss them off and they’d leave him here.”

It wasn’t a tearful goodbye but hugs and handshakes were exchanged alongside promises to stay in touch. But almost as soon as Halo led Omaha, Yale, and Harvard away from the table all heads turned to Rooster again. Great.

“Alright, spill!” Phoenix ordered. Bob behind her enthusiastically nodded his head to back his pilot up.

“Guys, maybe that’s not-”

“Ignore Maverick. Spill Rooster!” Hangman interrupted.

Sighing he looked at his empty beer on the table in front of him and wished he had a full one in its place. Or maybe a tall soft drink glass full of whiskey neat.

“Here.” Mav pushed over the beer he picked up earlier, opened but still full.

“There’s not much to talk about.” He tried to defend himself. “She’s a friend. A good friend.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy the lot in front of him though. Phoenix was motioning for him to continue and part of him wished it was just her he was talking too. She had always been a good friend. A good person to talk to when he had the need to talk. Even if they rarely had the chance to just sit down and chat due to the nature of their work.

“Lives in the old house.” He continued in a low voice, hearing his godfather inhale sharply next to him.

“I wasn’t ready to let it go but I- I couldn’t stay there. Not alone. Not after mom died. So when I left and she needed a place to stay I told her she could have it. Tried to pay me rent for years but I don’t take it. If she didn’t stay there it would be empty anyways so why waste a perfectly good house, you know. I go back every few months and she keeps my shit around.”

He just focused on the bottle in front of him, thumbing away at the label as the stares of his friends bore holes into him.

“That’s….nice.” The hesitant tone alone voided the words, he didn’t need to see the unsure face on top of it. He didn’t even want to imagine what the group was thinking of him at that moment. Revealing his tragic backstory in the middle of a bar.

“It’s not really home but it’s… it’s a homebase. Someplace to retreat to in case I’m back stateside.”

“And how long has this been going on?” Bob asked from behind Phoenix, confused, and Rooster was suddenly reminded of the years he had on them. Years because Mav held him back.

Years because he tried to protect you - a soft voice that sounded too much like his mother reminded him in the back of his head.

“Fifteen years? Give or take.” He mumbled.

“And how long have you been fucking her?” Three arms reached across the table to swat at Hangman for his question, Phoenix getting him in the arm hard enough for him to wince loudy.

“Fifteen years. Give or take.”

The only thing preventing an awkward moment of silence falling over the group was the fact that Fanboy choked on his beer hard enough that for the next few moments all the attention went to him, their group making sure that the WSO didn’t die. It didn’t prevent an awkward pause that followed after though. It was heavy, only interrupted by muffled coughing.

“Wasn’t expecting that to be completely honest.” Hangman said after everybody had mostly calmed down. When Rooster looked over to him he saw that the usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found on Hangman’s face and for the first time in his life he wished the other man would make fun of him. Look at him with something more than blank surprise or maybe thinly veiled pity.

“Fifteen years is a pretty long relationship to have, Rooster. Even if you’re not married, that's still impressive.” Coyote tried to be uplifting, smiling at him across the table.

“We’re not dating either. Told you she’s just a friend.”

“But you’re fucking?” Hangman asked.

“Whenever I go back. Unless she’s in a relationship at the time which hasn’t really happened yet because she doesn’t really date but most of the time, yeah.”

Across the table Payback raised his beer to him before taking a sip. “I mean… friends with benefits isn’t bad. Me and my wife started out as fuckbuddies before I grew the balls to ask her out for real.”

A few of the guys around the table nodded in agreement while Phoenix rolled her eyes hard enough that Rooster was worried they’d get stuck, but nobody added on to what Payback said.

Another few moments of silence followed before Bob spoke up, all eyes on the quiet WSO. “So let me get this straight. You and this woman have been on again off again fuckbuddies for the past fifteen years. She lives in your house. You nearly asked her to marry you….. and you still insist that she is just a friend?”

It came out rather harsh and nobody really knew how to react, least of all Rooster. Nodding, he took another drink of his beer, breaking eye contact with Bob.

Pushing his chair back from the table Bob moved to get up from their table. “Jesus fuck I need a drink.”

“Bob, you don’t drink.” Phoenix pushed her chair back too, quick to back up her backseater.

“I’m starting now.”

Six pairs of eyes watched as the two walked over to the bar but the men soon found themselves returning their attention back to the conversation.

“That’s a long time to pine over somebody, Rooster.” Fanboy chimed in, the pilots around the table nodding in agreement.

Before he could defend himself that he wasn’t pining, Hangman decided to speak up again.

“Jesus dude I know you like to wait things out but that’s long even for you.” Putting his arm around his shoulder he continued, “Gonna make your move when you get back? You’re a hero now Rooster, that gets the girls hot. No way she’ll say no.”

Without looking at the other man Rooster just shook off his arm, not taking his eyes off the bottle in front of him. Half the label was missing at this point but scratching at it kept his hands busy at least. “She’s just a friend, Bagman. Just a friend.”

Before any of the others could comment on it, Bob and Phoenix made their way back over to the group, letting themselves fall into the seats they had abandoned before. Their little comeback thankfully drew the attention to them and off Rooster, something he really appreciated. Judging by the way Bob was looking, his first drink didn’t go over all that smoothly.

“How’d he do Phoenix?” Mav teased.

“Went straight for the tequila. I tried to tell him he should start out with a beer but noooo.” She drew out the vowel, interrupted herself with a short giggle, before continuing, “Doubleshot of the cheapest tequila Penny had, didn’t even pull a face.” Phoenix bragged while giving Bob an encouraging pat on the back as he kept quiet. She turned to Hangman, sizing him up before adding. “You can ask Penny if you don’t believe me, Bagman.”

“Nah screw that.” Hangman replied, jumping up in his seat and leaning across the table to get closer to Bob, and Rooster was glad that they seemed to have found a new topic to latch onto. “First time and he went straight for the kill. Atta boy Bobby. Mister B.O.B.”

Most people around the table joined in with Hangman who continued to go on and on like usual while Rooster just went back to focusing on the bottle in front of him. He continued to thumb at the label, using the nail to push the paper back little by little. Almost everybody had stopped paying attention to him but he could feel Maverick’s gaze burn into the side of his head. He just hoped the older man would let it go.

Maverick did not let it go.

Two days after the night at The Hard Deck he was pounding on the door of Rooster’s room until he had no other choice but to roll out of bed. Stumbling his way to the door with half closed eyes he cursed as he walked straight into a table, a hand coming up to rub over his thigh while the other one pulled open his front door.

“What?” The words came out harder than he intended but the other man didn’t react, instead pushing past him into the room.

“Great, you’re up. Come on get dressed, we need to leave soon.”

“It’s like…” He picked up his phone from the nightstand, dropping it onto the bed after he saw the time. “6 in the goddamn morning. Why are you waking me up at 6am on my day off, Mav?”

“I want to show you something but we need to hit the road soon unless you want it to become an overnight trip. So go and get ready.” Maverick picked up a shirt he had thrown over a chair a day or two ago and threw it at Rooster, catching him off guard enough for it to hit him square in the face.

Knowing full well he couldn’t escape this trip Rooster just sighed and gathered his things so he could get ready. Hurrying through the process of getting ready until he was standing back in his room, silently looking at Mav while the older man looked at the pictures Rooster had taped up next to his bed.

Most of his memories were kept in his phone nowadays but he still liked to keep a few physical pictures with him on deployment. An old strip from a photobooth the two of you had squeezed yourself into, you perched on his lap with his arms wrapped around your middle while you made faces into the camera right next to the picture of his parents with their arms around each other. Maverick was focused on the third picture that was taped up though, their last family picture from before the accident. It had been hard to bend the picture in a way that properly hid Mav since they were all crowded together, Mom and Dad and Mav with little Rooster in the middle. He didn’t regret not tearing it apart in a fit of anger though. Instead he had taken it down after the mission, carefully straightened out the picture until Maverick was no longer hidden behind the back of the picture and next to them again, before putting it back up with their family reunited.

Rooster watched as he reached out and trailed a finger across the crease. It felt like he was interrupting a moment so he just stood still for a few more seconds, giving Maverick a little bit more time. When the other man turned around he didn’t seem surprised to see Rooster standing in the middle of his room though, a small smile growing on his face.

“Ready to go, kid?”

“Yeah.” He replied, waiting for Mav to bring up the pictures or where they were going but nothing came in response.

“Great.” Maverick stepped past him, hand coming up to give his shoulder a firm pat. “We’re taking your Bronco.”

It wasn’t until they were out of San Diego and making their way down a highway out east that Maverick opened up a little. He had been designated to the passenger side, left to peruse through the handful of cassette tapes in the glove box and play navigator while Rooster drove.

“Good selection.”

Out of the corner of his eyes Rooster could see the older man’s hands stopping once he came across a familiar mixtape, his own illegible handwriting staring back at him. He had played the tape over the years, knew the songs by heart even. But he still wasn’t able to read the writing. Your daddy had the nicest handwriting - his mother used to tell him - always filling out paperwork for Maverick. It wasn’t until he was older that he understood why his mother continued to do the same after his father’s death. A small act of kindness towards the poor soul that had to deal with Maverick Mitchell, saving at least a little bit of their sanity by shielding them from his terrible chicken scratch. Mav could write legibly when he cared, Rooster had a shoebox full of cards and letters at the old house that proved this, but he never really cared for paperwork.

Still focusing most of his attention on the road in front of them, Rooster saw the older man opening the case and carefully putting it into the correct slot on the old car. It took a moment for it to start but he smiled as the intro to Danger Zone began playing. Mav was nodding his head along the rhythm and Rooster could feel himself being overcome by some kind of nostalgic sorrow.

He was young when his father died. Too young. That wasn’t something he ever tried or was able to hide. But he tried his hardest to shield the ones around him from the full truth and maybe lie to himself a little. Nick Bradshaw had been a good man and he deserved to be remembered as such by his loved ones. Which just caused his limited memories of his dad to be all the more painful. No matter how hard Rooster tried to find new memories hidden away in a far corner of his brain he was stuck with a handful of amazing but painful ones.

It must have been mere days before the accident. His mom was somewhere, he didn’t quite know where, but his dad and his uncle Mav were with him. He remembered that the radio was blasting Danger Zone and that the adults had been singing along. They had all jumped across the room wildly and his uncle had picked him up only to collapse onto a couch or bench or something similar towards the end of the song.

After their falling out it had taken him years until he could listen to the song again without getting overwhelmed by emotions. But sitting here now, side by side with the man he tried to hate for years, all that heaviness he’d been carrying around with himself seemed to lift. It would never be like that one carefree summer afternoon in San Diego again but Rooster was certain that they could work towards mending their relationship again and he looked forward to it.

They had been driving for hours and Rooster was starting to get tired of the scenery. While he appreciated the desert as a beautiful place in theory after driving through it for a while it started to become too monotonous for him. They had stopped at a diner in a small town around eleven and eaten what would probably be considered brunch although there was a distinct lack of mimosas. He had filled the tank while Mav picked up some things from a nearby store and they were on the road again before noon.

“There’s a dirt road up ahead, on the left side. No street sign but you’ll see it.”

It was easy to follow his directions, pulling the Bronco into the street and making their way down the road. He could see a building up ahead, far enough removed from the main road to not be visible to passing cars but now that they were on the smaller dirt road Rooster was able to see that they were heading straight towards it.

An airplane hangar. Maverick had taken him to an airplane hangar. In the middle of the damn Mojave.

He slowed down the car once they got close enough, coming to a stop near the access doors but off to the side so he wouldn’t block the runway. If it involved Mav and a hangar there would definitely be planes around and he didn’t want to be in the way.

“Remember the thing you talked about last time at The Hard Deck?” Maverick said, hopping out of the car and Rooster had to suppress a laugh at the sight before he exited the Bronco too.

He watched as Maverick walked over to the middle of the hangar and raised his voice a little so that the older man could hear him even as he walked away. “What thing? I talked about a lot of things.”

“About the old house and it being your homebase.” Maverick was fiddling around with the chain that hung in the middle of the giant doors but Rooster couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, even as he walked closer.

“Well….” The chain rattled as it fell to the ground but Mav picked it up before giving each side of the heavy doors a push. “Welcome to my homebase.” Maverick said before slipping through the gap in the door and disappearing into the darkness.

Homebase. The stupid word echoed in his mind as he hesitated to follow the older man into the hangar. He had said that, hadn’t he? Downplayed the significance of you, your home… his home. Expressing his feelings had never been his strong suit but part of him didn’t regret his selfish choice of words. He trusted the daggers with his life but he didn’t want to share your relationship with them, not when he wasn’t sure of things himself.

He couldn’t bare himself to them in such a manner. Not when he still struggled to come to terms with things himself.

Trying to shake those thoughts he followed after Mav. The inside of the hangar was significantly darker than the outside even with the slight opening in the doors letting in light and his eyes needed a moment to adjust before he could see but when they did he looked around the large space in awe.

Rooster knew that the older man had an affinity for all things speed -bikes and planes, even the occasional sports car- but looking around he was surprised by how many machines he could see. Just from a first glance he counted at least 15, half of which he somewhat remembered from his childhood, as well as an old P-51 and… random furniture placed in front of a trailer?

“What-” He started but didn’t finish his sentence. What would he even ask? What is this place? Homebase. Mav had already said that.

He looked around again, trying to find Maverick between the machines.

“Go sit down.”

He nearly jumped at the sound of Mav’s voice echoing through the hanger. He hadn’t seen or heard him coming at all.

“I’ll go get the bags from the car but you go sit. Or go look around. Make yourself at home. Just don’t touch anything.”

The way he said it sounded like an adult warning a small child. Don’t touch anything, you could get hurt. And for a second Rooster thought about all the years he had spent with Maverick and his machines. How they had fixed up old bikes and Mav had patiently explained what every tiny screw does before ruffling his hair and telling him good job buddy for handing him a wrench. How he had helped Rooster get all his licenses from bikes to cars to planes and then let him take out some of the machines for joyrides or to impress girls at his high school. How he knew what he was doing and if he wanted to he could touch because he knew not to get hurt. Because he’s not a kid anymore. Because Mav taught him how not to get hurt.

But instead he kept quiet and looked around.

Rooster spent a while looking at the P-51. That thing must have cost a fortune even if it was old and Mav did the repairs himself. It was a gorgeous plane though and he hoped that he could convince his godfather to take him up with it soon.

The row of bikes felt so familiar it hurt but he still ran his fingers over the polished metal with care. All neatly lined up along the side of the hangar.

When he was younger Mav kept a locker covered in stickers in their garage. He still had the same locker now in the hangar and the collection of stickers had only grown. He used to go into the garage to look at them all the time when he was a child. Stickers of the different squadrons in all colors of the rainbow. He had them all memorized before he had memorized all 50 states. This one is where Ice flies -Maverick would point out- and this one is the squad that has to deal with Wolfman and Hollywood. They had gone through all the different symbols and pointed out when one of Mav’s friends flew with them.

As a kid he often wondered which squadron he would be assigned to, what insignia he would rep. He slowly raised a hand and ran his fingers over the Golden Warriors sticker at the side of the locker when something past the locker caught his eye.

Pictures upon pictures taped to the wall, familiar faces staring back at him. He could see pictures of Maverick and his parents as he stepped closer. Iceman. Their class at top gun.

Himself.

One of the pictures he knew. It was taken the day his high school baseball team had won a state championship and he remembered feeling like he was on top of the world. His mom had already been sick at that point but her prognosis had been good. Mav had been home from deployment and was able to bring his mom and together they had cheered loud enough that they could be heard across the entire pitch. Other teens would have felt embarrassed but Bradley had felt nothing but love. They had taken him out to eat afterwards and he had talked their ears off while stuffing his face with fries. His mother hadn’t even scolded him for talking with his mouth full. He had asked about the naval academy and if they had a baseball team and if Mav thought he should join. They’d all been so happy.

Not even a year later his mom was dead and Mav had pulled his papers and he had found himself on the other side of the continent completely alone.

Mav had another picture of him as well although he didn’t know where he got it. It was a newer one of him in his uniform, taken before the start of his last deployment. Ice, he answered his own unasked question. There was only one person that held enough rank and love for Maverick to get a hold of his picture.

He should have reached out sooner. If not to Mav then at least Iceman. Even in his stubbornness he had to admit that the late admiral had never treated him with anything but kindness and now it was too late to apologize.

“There you are.” Mav’s voice came from behind him and Rooster was proud that he didn’t flinch at the sudden noise. He had completely forgotten that he wasn’t alone in the hangar.

Instead of speaking immediately he took a deep breath and swallowed down his feelings. One step at a time. First he’d mend things with Mav for the future, then he’d ask for forgiveness for the past.

“Quite the collection you got here.” He said instead.

“Yeah?” He could see how the older man’s eyes lighted up at the mention of his machines. “I got more up here and a few more back there.” He turned around to point them out to Rooster, taking a few steps away from the side of the hangar.

“I’ve put the bikes on the backburner for a little bit to focus on the plane but as soon as I get it back up and running I have a few that need repairs. Maybe you could come and help me out a little. Like old times.” Mav smiled.

“That would be nice.”

He watched as Maverick walked over to the sitting area and followed. He disappeared into the trailer for a moment only to come out holding two bottles in his hands and gesturing for Rooster to sit. It was almost as if he had set up a little living room in the middle of the hangar. With an armchair and a couch, a small coffee table all on a big rug in front of the trailer. Wait…

“Mav do you fucking live here?”

Mav just gestured to the couch. “Sit down Bradley.”

It felt weird to be called Bradley again. For years he had only gone by Rooster or Bradshaw, building it up almost like a second identity or an armor. To him it felt like he had left Bradley behind years ago when he left home. Still, he sat down.

He looked at Mav.

Mav looked at him.

“Yes Bradley. I’ve been living in this hangar for the past few years while stationed at a nearby air base.” He finally said.

“In that trailer?”

Mav didn’t say anything, just nodded while looking at him.

He shifted a little where he sat on the couch, trying to avoid eye contact. “So you’re just all alone out here in the desert?”

“You know I’m used to being on my own, Bradley. No wife, no kids.”

Nobody to mourn you when you burn in.

He should have known that he would end up eating his words. No matter how much anger and distress he was feeling when he spoke them, no words were said without consequences and he was about to be faced with his.

He shifted in his seat again, still not meeting the older man’s eyes. “Mav, listen…”

“No. No.” Mav took a deep breath and let in out loud enough for him to hear it through the distance between them. “You were right.”

Another silence fell over them, this one weighing heavier on him than the ones before.

“I fear we’re a lot more similar than either of us would like to admit.”

It sounded less than a statement and more like a confession or maybe even a little bit of an apology. Like it pained Maverick to admit it and he had to force himself to say them. As if it had been a shortcoming on his end that had made them this way and not just the universe playing a cruel joke.

“There are… a lot of things we need to talk about and a lot of things I need to apologize for but not now. We have all the time in the world to talk things out but that’s not why I brought you here.”

“Then why did you?” His own voice sounded strange to him but he couldn’t figure out why. His thoughts were racing but at the same time his mind felt emptier than ever.

“I don’t want you to repeat the same mistakes I made.”

“Mav…”

“People like us belong in the sky and when something comes along to threaten that things turn ugly. You think there’s nothing worse than having that freedom taken away from you but there is. Because we can’t… we can’t stay up there forever, Bradley, no matter how hard we try. Once that’s taken away you have to look around and see what’s waiting for you on the ground. And when you see there’s nothing waiting for you… That’s scary, kid.”

Although he understood every word coming out of Maverick’s mouth he couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to put down roots without them chaining you to the ground. You’re allowed to build a home and a family without fear holding you back.”

And all of a sudden his words began to make sense.

No wife. No kids.

Just like him.

Somebody to mourn him if he burns in.

“I don’t think…”

“Don't think. Just do.”

That damn sentence had burrowed itself into his mind. Nested itself deep enough in his subconscious that there was no way he’d ever get rid of it again and Maverick repeating them now did nothing to soften the blow he felt.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Such a simple question. Such a simple answer. Yet it felt like he had to force himself to admit it. “Yes.”

“Then tell her.”

Sometimes home wasn’t a place but a person but there had to be some incredible luck involved for the two to overlap for him.

For years he had felt a certain type of sadness while driving up to his childhood home, reminiscing about all he’s lost, but as he pulled his Bronco into the little driveway all he could think about was what he was about to gain. His stomach was twisting and turning in anticipation.

Part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing, finally confessing to you. The friendship you had built over the span of more than one decade was too important and he didn’t want to mess it up. It had been easier when he was young and stupid and fell into bed with you the first time without consideration but now your time together weighted on him. He hesitated before exiting the car, mentally going over everything he wanted to say and repeating the words Mav had told him before sending him on his way.

She wouldn’t have waited fifteen years for you to get your act together if she wasn’t head over heels in love with you too.

Oh how he hoped that Maverick was right.

Taking one last deep breath he opened the door and got out, throwing it closed behind him. You had planted some new flowers in the front yard. Last time he had been here he was greeted by soft yellow flowers but now all he could see was a beautiful red. Granted it had been a few months since he last came by but he still felt a slight sting at the change. Not that it happened -he was glad that you actually felt at home in your house and comfortable enough to change the greenery- but the fact that he missed it. As he made his way towards the front door he thought about all the other things that could have changed since he saw you last. Did you get new pillows for the couch? Hung new pictures on the walls?

He had to search through his keys for a moment before he found the house key but as soon as he did he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There were noises coming from the tv in the living room and he had no problem imagining you curled up on the couch with a soft blanket and a mug held between your soft hands with one of your shows playing.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, hoping that you wouldn’t be able to hear the desperation in his voice and only the excitement.

Instead of a response he could only hear a crash coming from the living room and instantly became concerned. He couldn’t take more than two steps down the hallway though before you suddenly appeared at the other end of the small space. Messy hair and comfy clothes he didn’t have time to brace himself before you all but tackled him, clinging to his body while his arms came up to hold you up and against him.

Holding you in his arms again just made him feel so much more confident in his decision. His body still felt a little sore even a week after the mission but he’d never tell you out of fear that you would lessen your crushing embrace. The last thing he wanted right now was to be separated from you in any way. He could feel saying something against his shoulder but he couldn’t hear anything, the sound muffled by his shirt.

You must have realized that he wasn’t able to understand what you were saying because you pulled away a little so he could understand you better. “You’re home.” You almost whispered, voice airy and light and a big smile on your face. “Why are you home? You’re supposed to be overseas, why are you here? You always text me before you’re home or at least give me a call. Are you okay? What happened?”

He smiled as you took his hands between your hands, trying to see if he was hurt while rambling and he just couldn’t hold himself back any longer so he leaned down and finally, finally put his lips on yours in the softest, most loving kiss he could muster with the amount of desire running through his body. If he surprised you with his kiss you didn’t show it, instead your lips began to move against his, only for him to pull away once you try to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t feel foreign in his mouth even though it was the first time he said them for a long long time. He’s been running from his true feelings for as long as he could remember but now that he managed to spill them he couldn’t stop.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Realizing that he was still holding you up, he carefully lowered you down until there was solid ground underneath your feet. You looked so sweet just standing there and part of him just wanted to swoop you right up again. Instead he brought one of his hands up to cradle your face, carefully stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“Baby...” You started but stopped when his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

He could see your brows furrow in confusion so he continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was scared and it took me fifteen years to finally admit it but I love you. I love you and I’m not scared anymore and I’m yours… in any way that you’ll have me.” It was a blatant lie. He wasn’t just scared, he was absolutely terrified. Not just about his confession but also the future and the past and everything in between. But he needed to tell you how he felt so desperately.

Your hand touching his brought him back from his thoughts, cradling his hands while he cradled your face and a smile so wide he couldn’t focus.

When you spoke your voice was barely more than a whisper. “Oh you stupid man.”

For an awful drawn-out second he couldn’t breathe before your lips met his again and he felt whole again. Deepening the kiss all he could think about was how he was never letting go of you again.

Lieutenant Jakob Middlename Seresin enjoyed the simple things in life. A cold beer, a light breeze, and a beach full of attractive people were paradise on earth for him. After the recent mission all he wanted to do was lay back and relax before he had to head back out for deployment so when two of his old academy buddies talked about their new house in Hawai’i he invited himself to crash in their guest bedroom for two weeks and so far it had been nothing but pure bliss.

Taking a picture of his current view he sent it to his parents before pulling up the group chat Fanboy had made for everybody involved in the mission. He had missed about 50 messages but just from scrolling past them he picked up that Bob had sent a picture with his family and now everybody was roasting him for how out of character it seemed. Apparently there were flannel shirts and horses involved and Jake was just about to scroll back up to take a look himself so that he could join in the fun when a new message was sent to the group chat that caused him to drop his phone into the fine sand with a bitten off curse.

Rooster 🐓

getting hitched in vegas this wknd, be there or be square

txt Mav for details

Before he could fully process what he just read the chat was blowing up again. Text after texts came in expressing various degrees of excitement but Jake just read over Rooster’s text again before putting his phone away. With a sigh he brought his half-empty beer up to his lips and emptied the bottle before getting up to make his way back to the house.

It was only Wednesday so he still had a little time to enjoy his vacation before he had to head back to the mainland and he fully planned on enjoying it. He just needed to ask his friends where he could buy some gaudy Hawaiian shirts first. Maybe he’d even find some Vegas wedding appropriate ones.

He wouldn’t leave his wingman hanging.

#Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine

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swirlysmile · 2 years

Text

it’s finally here

this behometh that i’ve written

word count: 3k

warnings: not entirely movie accurate! plot could be out of order and dialogue is not 100% correct, married couple fighting for a long period of time,

POORLY WRITTEN,

Pride

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw never thought that the words “Arrogant prick” would be directed towards him. He’d never thought of himself as arrogant, much less a prick. Those words were reserved for Hangman, especially coming out of your mouth.

“Don’t you think that was a little harsh?” Phoenix asks, running up to you.

“No. I don’t think it was harsh. Bradley needs to get over himself.”

“Fair enough.”

Rooster stood dumbfounded on the other side of the tarmac, head tilted and mind racing. You almost feel bad when you look behind you, he looks like a lost puppy. Bob is giving him a little pat on the back, saying something you can’t quite read. Hangman is standing nearby, toothpick in his mouth and cocky grin present. He’s happy that your ego-shattering insults were directed at someone else for a change.

You’re sitting at the bar, it’s Sunday and the Hard Deck isn’t officially open yet.

“Pen,” you say after recalling the situation “I can't believe I said that to him. He’s been sleeping on the couch all week,”

Her eyebrows are furrowed, trying to make sense of the situation. That’s your Aunt Penny though, ever so reasonable.

She’s wiping down the clean bar, reveling in its pre-spilled drink shine.

“Can you blame him?”

“For what?”

“Sleeping on the couch,”

“No. Not really.”

You bury your face in your hands, elbows propped up on the bar counter.

“He’s being so, so difficult!” You say.

Penny nods, although you’re not entirely sure if she’s nodding in agreement or understanding.

“It’s Pete’s fault too,” She offers, and all you can do is shake your head.

“He’s making an effort- Bradley is being prideful.”

She sighs and steps away from the counter, headed towards the door. She unlocks it and you walk out, not wanting to be around when Rooster inevitably shows up.

“See ya around,” she says, holding the door open for you. Once you’re out the door, you turn back and she makes a ‘call me’ gesture, a makeshift apology for the lack of help she provided.

You wake up bright and early the next morning, still not managing to beat Rooster. He’s been avoiding you, it’s obvious. You’re showering, and it’s likely he’s already on base.

“Bradley, you arrogant fucking prick! That could have killed both of you, and for what? Just because you’re so damn prideful? Because you can’t be professional?”

It was running through his head. Not just the insults, but the underlying truth in your words. You never told him to forgive and forget, but he was trying to convince himself that you did, just to make his anger towards you more justifiable.

Surprisingly, he’s still on the couch when you walk downstairs. You’re not sure if you should wake him up or let him sleep, but with his habit he’s accumulated this week of being on base before you’re even awake, you decide to wake him up.

“Bradley,” You say, and it’s the first word he’s heard from you in a week.

“I’m up, okay?” He semi-shouts defensively.

Instead of sticking around to hear more, you grab your keys and head out the door.

He shows up eventually, about 30 minutes after you give or take. His curly hair is still a little damp.

You’re flying the course today, the nav system helping you follow it directly.

“Hangman, slow the fuck down!” You shout, and much to your dismay, he doesn’t oblige causing you to “collide” with a wall.

Everyone had similar problems, crashing, or going above the 300 foot max limit, getting “shot down” by SAMs.

“Why are they dead?” Maverick asked, and when Phoenix went to give an explanation she was shut down. “Don’t tell me, tell that to his family.” he says, voice low.

“You’re giving time for enemy planes to intercept,” Maverick scolds Rooster. It’s almost getting out of hand.

“We’d still have a fighting chance.”

“Against 5th generation fighters?”

“It’s not the plane,” Rooster says. “It’s the pilot.”

“Exactly!” Maverick shouts back, and the silence is deafening.

You’ve heard about tension you can cut with a knife, and this is most definitely one of those situations.

“Rooster,” Hangman clicks his tongue. “You don’t get it. You’re not flying fast enough!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at Hangman, always adding in unneeded commentary.

“Either a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come home. No offense intended,” He says, winking in Phoenix’s directions. She scoffs.

“Yet somehow, you always manage.”

Then, he brings it up. Maverick and his involvement in Goose's death. You hardly have time to react when Rooster lunges at Jake, holding him back. He’s cussing Jake out.

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” Jake laughs, shrugging everyone’s hands off of him.

Maverick isn’t helping, his shouts of ‘That’s enough!’ doing little to cool off the situation.

“We all know Rooster doesn’t have what it takes.” Hangman shrugs, turning on his heel to leave the room when Maverick gives the call.

You return home with a killer headache, and a want to be snuggled into Bradley’s arms.

“To the beach!” Maverick shouts, and everyone stares like he’s crazy, but nobody asks any questions.

You can only imagine the look of shock on Admiral Simpson’s face when he realizes all his pilots are gone, but at this point you’re having too much fun to think much about it. You’re split into two teams, going along with Mavericks' latest idea. Dogfight Football.

Rooster is keeping his distance from you, meaning he’s on the opposite team avoiding you at all costs. Hondo even joined in at one point.

You fight the urge to run up and tackle Rooster right when you see him offer Mav a hand. You’re so proud, but you know he’s not completely over his grievances.

Hangman is showing off, like usual, and Phoenix is preparing to knock him down a peg.

Mav taps out, but the rest of the crew continues playing. You’re standing back towards the ocean, just in time to see Admiral Simpson walk up to Maverick. You’re wincing just imagining the scolding Cyclone wants to give Pete, but end up being thoroughly surprised when he turns a blind eye to the whole ordeal after a little conversing.

Rooster has Bob on his shoulders, and you softly smile at it heading towards Penny.

“Did you see that, Aunt Pen-?” You ask, starstruck.

“You’re going to need to be a little bit more specific,”

“Bradley pulled Captain Mitchell up, do you think he’s getting over it?”

She shrugs, a bit skeptical.

Everything winds down, and you’re so happy to be home. You walk into your house, the sound of Bradley’s record collection blaring. He’s in the kitchen, humming along and making some food. Even if you hadn’t been talking, he’d been leaving you food.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, careful not to get too close. You know it isn’t resolved, but he took the first step. You’re slowly starting to wonder if your pride is worth the absence of him in bed, or in life really.

He doesn’t respond, and your heart aches a little, but you leave the kitchen anyway.

When you walk back downstairs, after a relaxing shower, he’s curled up on the couch reading your favorite book. You grab a glass of water, opting to put the food he left for you in the fridge.

You probably linger a bit too long.

The ‘argument’ with you is leaving a bitter taste in Bradley’s mouth, and it shows when he’s flying. It’s been 10 days since you last had a real conversation, and sure, maybe you had tried to talk to him last night but he was much too proud to respond until he got an apology. One that he didn’t think would come for a long time.

He’s up and at 'em’ before you are again, like he had been for the past week before he was so rudely thrown out of the groove. Damn alarm clock. He’s on base about 45 minutes before you, sitting around with nothing to do.

He’s starting to think this has gone a little too far, and that he’s to blame.

Hell, he’s been sleeping on the couch all because of his petty rivalry with Captain Pete Mitchell.

“Good morning aviators,” Maverick says loud and clear over comms. Everyone is having a go at dropping the bombs, attempting to hit their targets. You’re scheduled to be flying with Halo and Fritz.

After a few failed attempts, you’re back on the ground. Currently, Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote are in the air.

“What the fuck is that?” you hear, and someone confirms that Maverick is trying to intercept.

“Well, this just got a whole hell of a lot harder for us.” You say, chuckling.

They make the decision to pretend like Maverick isn’t even there, to stay on course.

“We’re almost there,” Bob offers to Phoenix and Coyote.

You can hear Javy curse when they miss,

A few seconds of heavy breathing, and you hear Maverick tell Coyote to level out.

“Shit, he’s in G-lock, I’m going after him to try and get tone.” Maverick says, and the ringing in your ear returns for a different reason.

You have confirmation he’s okay now, and Phoenix and Maverick are chatting when you hear shouts of a bird strike.

“Climbing!” Phoenix says, going through all the protocol to save the plane.

“Phoenix, the engines are on fire, do not restart it!” Mav tries to say, but he’s cut off by the sudden drop of the jet. Phoenix is in the midst of one last ditch effort to save the aircraft, but is ultimately forced to eject. You’re praying that they’re safe.

Rooster is still sitting in the common room, much later than he should be. His mind is racing. He’s concerned, worried for his friends, and his relationship.

“Phoenix and Bob are alright, they’re being kept in the hospital overnight for observation.” Maverick says, snapping him out of his daze a little. He appreciates the gesture Mav made, worrying about him and all but really he’d just rather get to the point.

“Why’d you pull my papers? Why did you stand in my way?!” He shouts, standing to slightly tower over Mitchell.

“You weren’t ready.”

“What? Ready to fly like you?”

“No. Ready to trust your instincts! Don’t think, just do! Believe me,” Pete shouts, adding fuel to the flame.

“My dad believed in you. I’m not going to make the same mistake.”

Pete stares, dumbfounded with tears welling in his eyes.

“Maverick,” a voice calls from the doorway. He’d do anything to get out of this conversation. “It’s Ice.” and his heart drops once more.

The funeral isn’t fun, not that funerals ever are. Somehow, it reminds Bradley of the harsh truth. Someone might not come back from this mission, and it very well could be him, or even worse you.

You're standing there, at Iceman’s funeral, to pay respects to a man you’d never had the pleasure of meeting, but one that was important nonetheless. You can see the tears that threaten to spill from Mav’s eyes, and hear the heartbreak in the sobs of Admiral Kazansky’s wife.

You’re reminded of another harsh truth. Funerals are gloomy, and it’s likely you’re going to be in attendance of another funeral soon.

The minute that Admiral Simpson announced the new mission parameters though, you’re sure that you're going to be in attendance of a few funerals in the near future.

You hear your peers whisper to each other, saying things that made this plan even more unsafe than Maverick’s.

When Mavericks' voice pops up over comms, everyone's a little shocked but not surprised. Your attention is immediately ripped from Admiral Simpson, towards the screen showing the course that Maverick is flying.

“I don’t see an event scheduled for you?”

“Yeah, well, I'm going anyways.” Maverick says, and even Cyclone is watching the screen

“Nice.” You hear Phoenix muse. For some reason, you can only stare at Bradley, his jaw clenched, but he’s looking at the screen like his life depends on Maverick succeeding. You can faintly hear Maverick say ‘climbing’ and that’s when you hear the click, letting you know that he did it.

The room erupts into cheers, but Admiral Simpson is looking unimpressed.

“No way, that bastard did it!” Omaha says right as Cyclone leaves the room. Phoenix is smirking, just a little, and even Hangman looks happy.

Bradley can’t say he’s not a little excited by the victory Mav procured.

The next day, when Maverick is back on the job, (as team leader for the upcoming mission no less,) Rooster isn’t surprised. Mav sure gave everyone a hell of a show, and Warlock probably pushed the issue to Admiral Simpson. Just a bit of a nudge in the right direction.

What Rooster wouldn’t give for one of those right now.

He’s watching you from the other side of the room, talking to Bob with a small smile, and for once, he’s jealous of Bob.

You’re side-eying Bradley, silently begging him to come over and strike up conversation. Not that there’s anything wrong with Bob, no, Bob’s actually pretty interesting, and good at conversation despite what some people seem to think. You just miss him.

Maybe it’s pathetic, sitting in a room on the carrier praying that Mav will send Hangman to his death and not Rooster.

Not before he’s apologized, not before you’ve apologized.

The world, or Pete Mitchell, works in mysterious ways though and your stomach drops hearing Rooster be called.

Do you approach him? Kiss him goodbye? Do you wait for him to come up to you?

His pride wouldn’t allow him to forfeit that easily, and you know it, but you’re hoping he decides to say goodbye anyways.

The tears flood your eyes too quickly when he walks right past you.

You’re on reserve, waiting in a fighter jet in case, god forbid, anything goes wrong on the mission. Your head is aching, probably due to dehydration thanks to the tears that just seem to keep coming. You’re doing your best to silently sob so that you can still hear comms.

Everything’s going smoothly so far, and you can only hope it stays that way. Mav hits the target and calls on Rooster for a status check.

“Almost there, Mav.” He says.

Rooster is freaking out a little. He knows this is dangerous, and he’s not even at the hard part yet!

He’s cussing when Fanboy’s laser is going crazy, praying to whatever god there is that he will hit the target when he drops in blind.

He pulls up, the G’s weighing on his body.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”

The comms are getting overwhelming, there’s too much going on at once and it’s terrifying.

“Talk to me Bob,” and then,

“Shit, I'm out of flares! I can't shake ‘em” and that’s enough to induce tears again, and you hear Rooster say a strand of curses.

“We can’t go back,” Phoenix says.

“He’s gone, Rooster.” And Bob sounds just as defeated, but like hell Rooster isn’t going to go back.

At this moment, you hate him for his decision. What if Mav had been gone, done for? Rooster would have been too.

Mitchell knocks Bradley into the ground, and when Rooster stands up he doesn’t hesitate to argue with Maverick. Old habits die hard.

“You should have been back on the carrier by now!”

“I saved your life!” Rooster says, trying to defend himself.

“No, I saved your life! What the hell were you thinking?”

“You told me not to think!” And Pete has no remark to that. It’s true, he did say that and at this moment he regrets it.

Rooster throws his arms up into a slight shrug motion, and Maverick stares at him, dumbfounded.

“It’s uh, good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

Rooster’s not sure how he let Mav drag him into this.

He’s currently sitting in an F-14, or as he likes to call it, a bag of ass. He’s made it clear to Maverick about his problems with this plan, but they don’t have much of an option.

“Mav, this is a taxi-way. Not a runway. This is a very short taxi-way!”

You’re ready to sob, still in your plane, everyone’s back except for Rooster and Maverick. You suppose you should be grateful that nobody else has a scratch on them, but not when you think that he’s gone.

Then, you hear confirmation that Rooster is up in the air and you’re so, so grateful.

You can't hear anything from their department, just confirmation that the radar says he’s in the air.

Hope is dangerous, and you know that.

“Dagger spare requesting launch.” Hangman speaks, and you’re surprised when he’s granted permission, but you’re so happy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking.” Hangman says, and you can feel the smirk dripping off his words. Yet, you can’t find it in you to care when Maverick roughly lands the plane.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw,”

“Other Lieutenant Bradshaw,” he says, smiling. He’s ready to forget the whole thing, and at this point so are you.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” you whisper, wasting no time to kiss him for the first time in a few weeks. It’s what you missed, the feeling of his stupidly gorgeous mustache rubbing against your upper lip, and his slightly chapped lips rubbing against your own.

“God, I missed you.” He says, wrapping his arms around your waist. He doesn’t want to break from you when everyone comes over to celebrate, but he reluctantly does so anyway, even accepting a truce in the form of a handshake from Jake Seresin.

He sleeps in your bed for the first time in a few weeks, and god you’ve missed his arms around you.

Even his terribly loud snoring is desirable right now, and so you hold onto his arms a little tighter.

You could talk about the fighting tomorrow, but for now you were going to make up for lost time.

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