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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

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Girl, You're My Angel - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's a down on his luck first baseman in the MLB, struggling to find his stride in the game he loves so much. A wedding invite from his ex-wife is enough to convince him to go for a drink, trying to forget about everything going on. He wasn't banking on meeting you though.

pairing: baseball!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

warnings/content: baseball au, mentions of divorce, smoking, alcohol, reference to drunk driving, bar fight, mentions of blood, Bradley having a dirty mind.

word count: 3k.

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The booming bass drum of a classic rock song thumped in your head as you gripped the cocktail glass in your hand. The liquid sloshed around in the glass as you danced, swaying to and fro with your best friends, trying your best to enjoy yourself on your girls’ night out. Your finals had just wrapped up, and you were this much closer to earning your masters, the only thing standing between you and getting that embossed sheet of paper, was your grades. To unwind after the cram sessions you’d mustered your way through for the past month, your friends dragged you out to some new amusement bar in the Gaslamp Quarter.

Across the bar, on the other side of the room, stood Bradley Bradshaw, a once promising baseball star who now, had earned himself a reputation as the MLB’s resident asshole - unable to take criticism or a loss without lashing out at someone. His recent stunt involved hurling his baseball bat across the diamond when he struck out in practice, frustrated with his sudden lack of skill, a skill that once came so naturally to him when his mind wasn’t preoccupied.

The invitation had come in the mail two days before the bat throwing incident. His ex-wife, the one who left him two and a half years ago, was remarrying the fucking prick she cheated on Bradley with. The invite had come completely out of the blue, and when Bradley opened it, he felt all of the air leave his lungs as his fingers traced over the gold embossed lettering, donning her name and the name of her new fiancé. He’d never admit it to anyone, but that single piece of cardstock had been enough to reduce him to tears, slumping down the kitchen wall as he hugged his knees to his chest, crying loud enough that it made him thankful he had no neighbours near by.

Bradley had pulled himself together, lit a cigarette from the pack he’d been nursing for the last few months, reserved only for social events and times of pure stress, and got in his vintage Ford Bronco, his first purchase when he signed his first contract. Taking a drag from the cigarette, his brown eyes scanned over San Diego’s downtown core as he cruised past a few of the typical nightlife spots - each one a little too public for what he wanted. All other options exhausted, he pulled up outside of a newer bar that had opened the previous week, neon lights advertising an arcade on one side and drinks on the other.

He figured if nothing else, a couple of rounds of Pac-Man on an old video game after a handful of beers might do him good. He could leave the Bronco parked there and walk to the hotel around the corner, and forget about how his ex-wife’s wedding was coming up in six months, how she’d had the audacity to invite him to see her marrying the guy he’d walked in on her with.

He sidled up to the bar, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks as he ordered himself a beer. Standing across from him was a group of women, not much younger than him, gossiping and giggling together. He sized the group up, thinking to himself that maybe a one-night deal was what he needed to take his mind off his ex.

You were the tallest girl of the group, with bright eyes, and hair brushed back in a sleek, high ponytail, sporting a form-fitting cocktail dress that made Bradley’s heart race when he saw you. He pounded back the rest of his beer, trying to find his confidence in himself once again in the comfort of the drink.

Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar top before walking his way around the circular counter. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning in with a broad smile as you looked in his direction. He offered a polite wave of his hand, chuckling awkwardly as he felt his confidence wavering as he spoke to you.

“Hey, could I buy you a drink? He said simply, his Virginian accent dropping into a thicker drawl than usual.

“I’m good, thanks, still got one,” You held up your half-full glass and shook your head politely, not wanting to reject him too brutally.

Bradley nodded his head once at you, his smile faltering for a second. He quickly regained himself, smiling once again politely before grabbing himself another beer and heading over to the arcade, resolving that a couple of old-school video games might make his night a little better.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to rejection - he’d been turned down almost as often as he’d been accepted, but for some reason, your rejection stung just that little bit more. Maybe it was the wedding invitation still making things sour, or maybe it was the fact that the mere sight of a girl hadn’t been enough to make his heart accelerate like this in a long time. He shook his head once, trying to focus his train of thought once again on something, anything other than what was currently occupying it.

Baseball? Too stressful, his game was starting to slip up on him. Buying a puppy? No, it’d just be one more thing he could let down. Hitting the gym? He already went 6 days a week - if he went any more frequently, he’d have to consider moving his bed in there.

His mind raced as he pressed the buttons on the video game, moving the small yellow circle across the screen, collecting points between sips of beer. Behind him, he heard a couple of guys shouting at a tv screen, the sound of the latest sports highlights blaring out in the background.

“This Bradshaw asshole needs to get his shit together. Twenty-nine and he plays about as well as my ten year old. Drop him down to the minors or get rid of the bastard. He shouldn’t be missing plays like this.” One of the voices shouted at the tv, his friends nodding their heads in silent agreement with his rant.

Bradley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as the insults about his playing continued to spout from this guy’s mouth. He couldn’t have been much older than Bradley was, one of those armchair commentators who probably hadn’t swung a bat since Little League. As the criticism continued, each jab focused directly at Bradley’s game performance, missing one play that cost a game - one that he’d already been feeling pissed off about - it became harder to ignore.

“I bet that hot little piece of ass wife of his left him because she knew he was a dogshit baseball player.”

Bradley spun around on his heels so fast that he swore the room was spinning. He turned to face the group, crowded in a corner in front of the tv, faces all glued to the female commentator. Bradley could practically hear the derogatory thoughts they were having about her and it only fuelled his anger more.

“Hey, man, if you’ve got an issue with how I play the game, I’d like to see you get off your ass and go play nine innings against Boston. Keep my ex-wife’s name out of your mouth.” Bradley scoffed, narrowing his dark brown eyes at the trio.

“You got a problem, jackass?” The other man growled, raising an eyebrow at Bradley as he slammed his drink down on the table. “She probably left you for that rookie because even she knew you weren’t good for anything.”

“That so? Your wife would probably like to go a couple rounds with me though.” Bradley retorted, a devilish smirk forming on his face as he folded his muscular arms across his chest.

Before Bradley had time to blink, the man drew back his arm and landed a hard punch to Bradley’s jaw. Bradley quickly delivered a stronger hit to the man’s face, watching him stumble backwards for a second. Bradley turned around and walked outside, getting ready to light another cigarette as he ran his hand over his jaw, assessing if he had any damage to worry about.

The man returned, practically running outside after Bradley. More heated words were exchanged, insults flying between them both before the man delivered another hit, this time to Bradley’s nose. He shook his hand off and headed off down the street with his friends, disappearing off to the next bar. Bradley held his nose, blood dripping down from his nostrils and onto his hand.

You and your friends had heard the commotion when it unfolded inside, and decided to head out, having enough excitement for one night. As you stepped out, you saw the man who’d hit on you earlier, this time with his nose bleeding onto the pavement under him. You ran over to him, raising an eyebrow.

“What did you do, hit on a girl who had a boyfriend?” You asked playfully as you rooted through your purse for something to help clean his nose.

“Called a guy out for saying my ex-wife was a “hot piece of ass”, actually,” Bradley nodded once, gratefully taking the tissues from you and using them to clean his nose.

“Stick your hand out for a sec,” you instructed, squirting a dollop of scented hand sanitizer into his large palm before raising an eyebrow at him, “You don’t have anything I could catch from helping you without gloves?”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Bradley scoffed, trying to laugh but wincing instead, “And why the fuck does my hand smell like a flower?”

“Lavender hand sanitizer. It’s not as good as washing your hands, but it’ll do while we’re outside. And I’m going to hold the tissues in place while you rub it into your hands, but I don’t want to catch something. I’m just fresh out of latex gloves.”

“Good thing. I’m allergic,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to brave through the pain, “I’m clean. You’re fine. I get drug tested and physicals through work constantly.”

“What kind of a job provides those? Military?”

“Professional athlete.” He nodded as you pinched the tissues to his nose, applying pressure to help with the bleeding. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Your nose is broken, it’s suppose to hurt.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, just wrote my finals for a masters in nursing.”

“Close enough,” Bradley nodded slightly, cringing as you continued to apply pressure to his nose.

You rooted through your purse, laughing softly as you pulled a tampon out of your bag. Bradley raised an eyebrow at you, not quite registering what the item was until you pulled the plastic wrapping off of it, stuffing the garbage back into your purse.

“What the fuck do you plan on doing with that?”

“I need to stick it up your nose on the left side. It’s bleeding more than I’d like to see, and a broken nose should probably be set in a medical setting. This way, you won’t bleed all over my car.”

“Your car? You’ve been drinking.”

“Half a vodka-cran over the span of three hours? I think I’m probably not gonna blow over the limit.”

“You are not sticking that up my nose,” he replied stubbornly, arms folding over his chest like a petulant child.

“Look at your shirt,” you laughed, gesturing to the white floral print button down he was wearing, its collar now tinged with red and pink splotches.

“Fine,” he said with a reluctant sigh, “but if anyone finds out about this, I’m denying it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you nodded as you offered him the plastic applicator.

Bradley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pressed the bottom of the applicator, pushing the tampon into the edge of his nose. He looked at you with another dramatic eyeroll and shook his head before walking down the street to a garbage can. He discarded the applicator before turning to face you, sighing.

“I can take myself to a hospital, you know.”

“I’m already here, I may as well come with you. Besides, I feel kinda bad about turning you down.”

“Oh, so you’re taking care of me out of pity?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe. Even more so with a tampon hanging out of your nose.”

“It’s quite the fashion statement, isn’t it?” He laughed softly, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, revealing a clean white t-shirt.

You unlocked your car, the familiar beep as the doors unlocked causing Bradley to stifle a laugh.

“What is that?!”

“My car,” you responded matter-of-factly, “What does it look like?”

“One of those cars for a Barbie doll that my goddaughter plays with,” he said as he flourished his hand, gesturing to your pink steering wheel cover and coordinating seat cover.

“Listen, I like pink. Now are you getting in, or do I have to make you?”

Bradley’s eyes widened for a moment, your playful threat of making him get into the car sending his mind into a frenzy again. He eyed you up and down again, and found himself shaking his head as he wondered what colour underwear you had on under your dress. He bet it was probably a coordinating pink set - the kind that Victoria’s Secret mannequins would model in the store window, with delicate little bows or lace or something adorning them.

Focus, Bradley. She doesn’t want to sleep with you. Stop thinking about her.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat, watching as you hopped into the driver’s side. As you pulled away from the curb, he raised an eyebrow at your choice in music as Taylor Swift started blaring from the speaker.

“You can change it if you want to,” you nodded. “You can put on whatever.”

“No, no, It’s fine. I actually like this song.”

“You said you’re a professional athlete? What sport do you play?”

“Baseball,” he said, slowly nodding his head, “my headshot’s on a flag outside of Petco Park.”

“I thought I recognized you, you’re that player everyone always talks about, right?”

“Unfortunately. It’s rarely good things.”

“How come?”

Bradley sighed, raising an eyebrow, “You know they talk about me but not why?”

“I don’t follow baseball, I've actually never even seen a game, live or on tv. I just know my friend does and she told me everyone talks about you. Bradshaw, right? Number 10?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Bradley Bradshaw. First baseman, used to have a promising career, then, you know, wife cheats on me with a rookie from a rival team, catch her in a hotel room that I paid for with him, and then, despite me stupidly telling her I forgave her and you know what, I was pissed, but I loved her anyway and I blamed myself for her cheating, she served me divorce papers. Said I was incapable of loving anything but baseball. Says the woman who refused to do anything with me when I tried to be loving and affectionate. My friends swear she only married me for the status and the paycheck. Her new fiancé just signed a multi-million dollar contract that’s being talked about as one of the highest in the league, so it sort of checks out.”

“Jeez,” you whistled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was two and half years ago. I just, I haven’t found my stride again yet, I guess.”

“Is that why you got defensive about her?”

“They said she left me for this other guy because she knew I was a dogshit ball player. I mean, it’s probably not far off. But, I got an invite for her wedding in the mail today, and I was already on edge, so I sort of…snapped.”

“She invited you?!”

“Yeah, like that, huh? She probably thought I have someone new I’m seeing and that we could still be friends or some shit.”

“So you need a date?”

“I’m not going,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? Free drinks for a night, you can wish her well while secretly hoping her husband’s ball career washes out on him in a year or two.”

Bradley chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured his hand towards you, “I like your thinking actually, but I’m not going alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders, “When is it?”

“In six months, you don’t need to come with me though. I’ll send her some cheap gift and call it a day.”

“No,” you insisted as you pulled into a parking space at the hospital’s urgent care clinic, “I’ll come with you. I love a good revenge story. Besides, it could be fun. I’ve never partied with a bunch of baseball players before.”

“You’re…you’re something else, you know that?”

“You mean, you don’t have dozens of women offering you a tampon to stop your nosebleed, driving you to the hospital and then offering to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding date?” you challenged.

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Well, I’m honoured to be your first.”

Bradley couldn’t help his ear to ear grin as he followed you into the hospital. Despite his bloodied, battered nose, which was hurting more than he cared to let on, and his fledging career, falling apart around him as he stood there, he felt genuinely excited. Excited to get to know you better. Excited to see where things went with you. He felt a promising sense in your words - like maybe, just maybe, he might be able to be done with one-night-stands and empty beds in the morning. He felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with his high school crush. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain from his nose or the alcohol talking, but he was almost convinced you were a guardian angel of sorts. Refusing to believe that someone like you could be anything but.

First things first though, he needed to bring you to a baseball game.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw au #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw au #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick au fic #baseball au

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ilovetopgunsstuff · 3 months

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night shift

bradley bradshaw x reader

prompt- training for the mission is underway, and y/n has slept in bradley bradshaw's bed for more nights than she'd like to admit. when rooster has a bad dream next to her, it gets a little more personal than no strings attached should get

warnings- angst, cursing, ptsd mentioned, sex mentioned, not exactly smut

An: may be some typos, please give feedback and don't be afraid to request!

Y/n stared at the ceiling, enjoying bradley's arm wrapped tightly around her middle before they had to go back to pretending theyre just friendly collleagues during the work day.

She hadn't meant to have anything start between the two of them, but a drunken night at The Hard Deck changed that a few weeks ago. Rooster smelled good that day, tan and sculpted by the sun. Maybe his tank top was a little too tight, Hawaiian shirt a little too flowy. She had always thought he was attractive, but the alcohol really brought it out of her. They had been talking all night, rooster bought Y/n a drink. She cracked a tipsy joke and a lopsided smirk grew on his pretty face as he looked at her, head tilted. That's when she knew it was over for her.

Y/n thought she was in the clear when they all left the bar. She just had to go grab her charger from inside his house. Then he asked if you wanted water to sober up before driving home. Harmless. Then you couldn't reach the cup in his cabinet to get said water. Then he came up behind you to grab it for you, brushing against you slightly as he mumbled a "sorry" under his breath right beside you, almost touching your ear. It was then that your last shred of self-control somehow diminished, landing you right into his bed for the night.

It's been a few weeks since then, and you keep ending up here. It was supposed to just be friends with benefits, no strings attached. But sometimes it wasn't, even though neither of you would admit it. The way he splayed his massive hands across your stomach as he fucked you, gently pushing down so it'd feel better for you. The way that he would trace across your skin with his finger until you fell asleep, whispering praises in your ear, telling you how good you did. It was when he thought you fell asleep that he went to take a shower, kissing you on the forehead while running his thumb gently across your cheek. The two of you never really discussed what you were, you just were. These nights seemed to be doing more harm than good for you. It was hard to stay detached from something like this, spending your nights with someone so often. He didn’t feel like you did, you were sure, so you’d settle. You would take the nights over nothing, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting during the day.

The glow of Bradley’s alarm clock read 1:34 AM. His room was nicer than you’d expect. More than two pillows on the bed, light blue sheets, ivory paint on the walls. Your favorite part though, was the decor that made Rooster who he was, the decor that nobody else on the team had probably ever seen. Old baseball photos, pictures of his graduating class, polaroids of the beach, of his bronco. It made the room feel warm.

Now here you were, trying to soak it all in before it was a secret again. He hadn’t taken a shower tonight, and wore only boxers next to you. He had fallen asleep on top of you, holding you tight, though he had since rolled over to beside you. He looked so peaceful sleeping, his face void of the serious expression he usually took on. You were laying pressed against him, his arm around your middle holding you in place. You had pulled on some clothes since the hookup, and you now donned one of Rooster’s big t-shirts and your underwear. All your other clothes were trailed around his house somewhere. All you could hear was the combination of your breaths in the late night, and you began to doze off again.

Then his breath hitched. His arm snaked away from you as he shifted in his bed. His breathing became more rapid, and a sheen of sweat show on his forehead. His dog tag glistened in the night as they jingled across his bare chest. He was having a bad dream.

This was normal for the military. Bad, traumatic memories linger in the back of your head. It hits you when you least expect it. It even taints your dreams. Everything you refuse to remember when conscious comes to haunt you at night. You have it too, and seeing him like this made your chest ache. He was mumbling now.

“No no no,” he mumbled. You sat up. He had his jaw clenched; his whole body was tense as he continued mumbling. The breathing didn’t slow.

“Rooster,” you said out loud, putting your hand gently on his and squeezing. “Rooster,” you said again, louder.

He stayed dreaming.

“Bradley.” You spoke loud enough but gentle. It was hard coming out of these dreams.

He drew a sharp breath in and sat up, muscles rippling across his back and stomach as he moved. He used the heels of his hands to rub his eyes as he seemed to catch his breath. Your hand hadn’t left his.

“It’s okay, It’s okay. You were just dreaming,” you say as he tries to get his bearings. You push his hair out of his eyes. It’s messy from sleeping. Still holding his hand, the rapid beating of a pulse can be felt coming from his wrist.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. The covers were pooled at his waist and he looked up at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for- I don’t-“

“Don’t apologize. Here,” you handed him your water from his bedside table. In a quieter voice, you say, “You’re not the only one it happens to. I usually wake up a lot less graceful than you.” You try to let out a small laugh, more nervous than amused, but it wasn’t really funny. Many times have you woken up, tangled in the sheets alone, struggling to get away from something that’s not even there. It’s PTSD, and the military can only do so much to help. The damage is already done, the memories already happened. He looked at you, watching everything you did. He looked exhausted, even though he’d been sleeping. Drained.

“Thank you,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to disturb any more peace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No.” You didn’t really have any explanation other than that. Oh I was staying awake to remember your touch so I miss it less during the day. Yeah, like that would’ve gone over smooth.

He nodded. “That’s good,” he said. He ran his hand through his hair, the other that you’re holding still limp in the bed. You (tried to) smoothly let his hand go and put your hand back in your lap. You wanted to do something for him, to help, but thats not what you were here for. It wasn’t your place. You were just a girl in his bed to him. Your hands itched to run through his hair, across his skin, but you couldn’t. “I’m probably gonna go take a shower,” he said.

And off he goes again, didn’t even wait for you to fall asleep this time. You nodded, suppressing the sigh that wanted to erupt out of your chest.

He gets up, kicking the covers off. He stood in the middle of the hard wood floor of his bedroom, boxers only. The only light was from the moon and the glow of his alarm clock. His muscular silhouette walked towards the bathroom, then faltered, seemingly looking back.

“Oh. Are you not- uh…” he trails off in the dark. Did he want you to come?

“Oh…I didn’t know I was allowed to.”

You couldn’t see him, but heard a low chuckle in the dark. “..allowed to?”

“Oh shut up,” you said as you rolled out of bed, but you couldn’t help but smirk a bit. You squinted as he flipped on the lights to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door since you were both in there. You took a chance and looked in the mirror. Your hair was wild, with your mascara running down your face in faint lines. What a charmer.

Bradley had his back turned, turning the shower on. He turned, thumbing the waistband of his boxers to take off. You began to strip as well, and all of a sudden felt shy. He did this to you all the time, but doing it yourself while he watched made your cheeks tinge pink. The overhead light reflecting off the white tile walls didn’t help either. You slid your panties off easily and they dropped to the floor. Then the shirt.

He pulled you by the hand, and you both stepped under the hot water.

Once again, he met your gaze. He was being so quiet.

“What are you looking at?” He tilts his head at you with a slight smirk, his eyes still seemed tired.

“Just…you.” You’re guessing that you’re not hiding your worried expression very well. Your eyes flicked downward and you bit your lip.

“I’ve still got a pulse, you know, darlin’. I’m gonna live.”

“I know,” you mumbled, shy. You held one of his hands in yours, keeping from looking at him as you trace over his palm. “I was just…”

“Nervous?” he asked quietly.

“Mmhm,” you hummed. He took your hand that held his and pulled you towards him. The rush and warmth of the water relaxed you slightly. He pulled you close to wrap his arms around your waist. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. This is the most personal you’ve ever gotten. This pained you; somehow being closer to him made it hurt worse, being seen as just a hookup. You would’ve been better off without any of this, any of him, but you weren’t without him. You were right here, undressed in front of him night after night like clockwork, like having a night shift. You almost groaned out loud.

“You gonna be stiff as a board this whole time or…” There he was teasing you again.

“Sorry.” You were flustered, and exhausted, not because it was one something in the morning, but exhausted mentally. Who knew no strings attached was so much work? Well, it is when one of you is attached, you guessed.

You let out a sigh, tiredly resting your chin on his tanned, warm shoulder. He tightened his arms around you, his chin in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. His mustache and breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver, and you began to melt all over again. “I don’t want you to be jumpy around me now. I didn’t scare you off did I?”

You picked your head up, moving back slightly to look at him. He has the hint of a smile on his face, but his eyes are serious. You let out a breathy laugh, releasing some tension. “No you didn’t scare me off. Still here.”

He smiled, an especially knee-buckling smile, and he pulled you close again. “Good,” he murmured. “I’d be lonesome if I did.”

You sighed, and a small, shy smile crept onto your face as you rested and leaned against him. “I think you’d find yourself more company in no time.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughed out his words. You just hummed in response.

“I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman.”

“Mmhmm.”

He squeezed your hips playfully. “I cant believe you,” he whispered in your ear, as all space previously between you two went elsewhere.

The night shift would do.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #hangman x reader #top gun fanfiction #fanfic #jake seresin #miles teller #pete maverick mitchell

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

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Bronco Baby

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: Ever since I mentioned my headcanon about Lydia being conceived in the Bronco, I know many of you have been waiting for this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: NSFW (18+) - Explicit depictions of unprotected PIV intercourse between a married couple, brief language.

“Do you even know how crazy you make me?” Bradley whispered against your lips, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed you close to his chest. His fingers were warm as they danced up and down the bare skin of your back, eliciting shivers that had nothing to do with the salty breeze wafting through the dark evening air.

“Uh-uh,” you murmured teasingly in response, shaking your head back and forth slowly so that your lips brushed against your husband’s at a tantalizing speed. “I have no idea.”

“Such an awful little tease you can be sometimes, Mrs. Bradshaw,” Bradley grinned affectionately, his eyes crinkling in amusement even as he cradled your face in his hands and captured your mouth once more, sealing it with a searing kiss that sent pulses of desire shooting all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You moaned softly in delight, burying your fingers in his hair as you kissed him back hungrily, your tongue dancing softly with your husband’s in a rhythm that the two of you had perfected over the years. As the kiss deepened, Bradley’s hand slid down your cheek, his calloused fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck, a sensation that immediately had goosebumps rising on your exposed skin. The weather had been a little too cool for the sundress you’d donned tonight, but it was Bradley’s favorite and so you hadn’t hesitated when picking out your outfit earlier that evening.

“Did you have a good night, honey?” Bradley asked, his voice low and husky as he nibbled his way across your jaw, settling on a spot just beneath your ear, which he then began to kiss and suckle gently.

“Yes,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in pleasure at the feel of your husband’s warm mouth on your neck. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper date night,” you added with a little gasp, wrapping your arms around him and tilting your head back slightly to grant him more access.

“Mhm,” Bradley hummed softly against your flushed skin, the hand that wasn’t supporting the back of your neck now resting securely on your waist, squeezing you with the tender affection of a man who knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand. “Thank God for Mav and Penny, huh?” he asked with a breathy chuckle, nuzzling his nose against your throat, his mustache tickling your bare skin, as it so often did.

You and Bradley had spent the evening at a gorgeous seaside restaurant in La Jolla, one of the first dinners you’d gotten to enjoy as a couple, just the two of you, in quite some time. Penny had called a few days earlier, insisting that she and Mav wanted to kidnap Goose for the night so that you and your husband could celebrate a long-overdue date night.

“Go, have fun and relax,” she’d told the two of you when you’d dropped your son off at her and Mav’s place a few hours ago. “You know where to find us, and if you have too much fun, Goose is more than welcome to spend the night here,” she’d added with a knowing wink.

There was no one you and Bradley trusted your baby boy with more than Maverick and Penny, so you were able to make the drive out to La Jolla with clear heads, reveling in good food, delicious wine, and the heady joy of each other’s company.

The two of you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other on the drive back, to the point that you were honked at by several passing vehicles for veering ever so slightly into their lanes of traffic.

“Do you want to pull over on the beach for a little while, baby?” Bradley asked, his voice thick with unspoken need as he rested one hand on the inside of your thigh, tracing slow, sensual circles on your inner knee.

You simply nodded in response, the desire that was radiating off your husband in waves matched only by the yearning that had settled deep inside your bones.

That was how you and Bradley had ended up parked off the beaten path, in an isolated little alcove right on the beach, the waves crashing in the near distance as you and your husband made out in the front seat of his vintage Bronco like a couple of horny teenagers.

“Mmm, baby,” you groaned under your breath, tugging at Bradley’s hair to pull his lips away from your neck so that they could crash against yours once more. Your lips were swollen and hot from his kisses, yet desperately craving more.

“God, you’re so beautiful, honey,” Bradley told you in a hushed voice, his tone almost reverent as his hands glided over your shoulders, slowly tugging down the straps of the sundress he loved so much. “I’m so happy you wore this tonight,” he said, his fingers playing with the little ribbon fluttering from the top of one strap. “I can never take my eyes off you when you’ve got it on,” he added, burying his face in your neck as his hands freely roamed your body.

“I know,” you laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as you lazily ran your fingers through his hair. “That’s exactly why I wore it.”

Bradley grinned, kissing your chin, your nose, the corner of your mouth. “I might love this dress in particular, but you know I can’t take my eyes off you no matter what you’re wearing.” He leaned in closer, his lips pressed against your ear as he swept your hair off your neck. “And especially when you’re wearing nothing at all.”

“Baby,” you whispered, your voice almost swallowed up entirely by the sound of the waves crashing roughly on the shore. Biting down on your lower lip, you slowly crawled into your husband’s lap, straddling his powerful thighs as you sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, lowering your head to press your forehead against his. “Make love to me,” you murmured against his lips, your eyes meeting his. You could see the reflection of your burning desire glowing in the dark brown depths of his gaze.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, honey,” Bradley grunted, shifting suddenly so that he had you pinned beneath him in the front of the Bronco, his lips crashing into yours as he kissed you with a renewed fervor and vigor.

For the past few months, you and Bradley had been making love as often and as frequently as you were able. Not long after Goose’s first birthday, you had made the decision together to begin actively trying for a second baby. Nothing had come of it as of yet, but you were doing your best not to let yourself get as stressed out about it as you had when you were trying to get pregnant with your son. It had been Bradley’s idea during your first attempt at getting pregnant to throw the ovulation tracking out the window and to have sex whenever and wherever you wanted—a plan you had been all too happy to concur with. Considering how desperate you were for each other, it seemed like just as good a plan in trying for Baby #2. Of course, having a small toddler at home did make things a bit more challenging. But that’s what tonight was for.

It was like a switch had been flicked inside both of you as you began tugging frantically at each other’s clothes, letting out small gasps and bursts of laughter as the confines and limits of the space inside the car made themselves known.

“Oh, honey. My honey,” Bradley groaned, pushing your pretty little sundress up until it was bunched around your waist, revealing the light pink lace panties you’d worn underneath. “So pretty and perfect for me,” he praised you, kissing you deeply as he spread your legs open and pressed his palm against you, rubbing softly. You felt the vibrations coursing through your body as he let out a hum of pleasure. “You’re so wet, baby. So wet for me. I know it’s going to feel so good inside you,” he whispered, tugging your panties to the side so that he could gently glide one finger along your soaking wet slit.

Your skin flushed hotly at your husband’s words of affection and praise. Bradley was never afraid to be vocal about how much he loved you, or about how turned on you made him, and it always gave you the most intoxicating rush of confidence and adrenaline.

“Baby! Mmm,” you moaned softly, reaching up to grasp onto Bradley’s forearm as he gently played with you, his fingers teasingly dipping inside you and then sliding back out again. Pinned beneath him as you were, with precious little space to move in the front of the Bronco, you could feel his need blooming almost instantly, growing hard and thick against your stomach, even through the confines of his jeans. “I need you inside me,” you begged, gazing up at him.

Bradley nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, then to your lips. He shimmied back slightly, giving himself just enough room to reach up under your dress and hook his fingers through the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and discarding them on the floor of the Bronco within seconds. In his eagerness to sit up so that he could unzip his jeans, he bumped his head on the rearview mirror, which made you both laugh despite your aching desperation.

“Car sex always seems sexier in the movies,” Bradley chuckled, fumbling with the button on his jeans as he gazed down at you, legs splayed wide open beneath him. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, suddenly unable to think straight enough to do something as simple as unzip his pants.

“I’ve got you, honey,” you murmured, reaching up to quickly unbutton and unzip your husband’s jeans, tugging them down as he immediately worked to free himself, his stiff erection springing forth as lowered himself back down on top of you. Your toes curled in pleasure when you felt his head pressing against your entrance, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to pull him inside you yourself. “Take me, baby. Take me,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face against his neck.

Within seconds, your husband was buried deep inside you, guttural cries escaping your lips as he began thrusting almost immediately, grasping your thigh in one hand and lifting it slightly so that he could hit you at an even deeper angle.

“Yes, yes, baby, just like that!” you cried out, sliding up and down the front bench of the Bronco from the force of Bradley’s powerful thrusts. You hooked your ankles together behind his waist in an effort to both anchor yourself and draw him even deeper inside you, his pulsing length stroking your tight walls as you clenched around him over and over again.

“Feels…so…good,” Bradley ground out through gritted teeth, his fingers lacing through yours as he pounded into you, quaking at the feeling of how tight you were around him. “You’re so tight, honey. Always so tight,” he groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder as you began to meet him thrust for thrust, your hips slamming together in a rhythm that was somehow both frenzied and steady all at the same time.

You cradled your husband’s head in your hands as he moved above you, your eyes fluttering closed and your mouth opened wide, though barely any sound escaped except for the occasional gasp or moan. “Right there,” you nodded, sliding your hands underneath Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt and feeling his muscles ripple through the undershirt he wore beneath. “Right there, baby,” you encouraged him, your chest heaving as he began entering you at the perfect angle, stimulating every sensitive nerve ending inside you.

Continuing to ride you steadily, Bradley lifted his head so that his eyes could find yours, no more words needing to be uttered in that moment as your gazes locked together. Reaching up, he gently tugged at the front of your sundress until your breasts fell out, your nipples hard and exposed to the chill evening air and the tender ministrations of your loving husband. That was another reason why Bradley loved this dress so much—no bra required.

Latching onto one hard nipple, Bradley began to suck softly, pinching and rolling the other one between his fingers as he kept up the fervent pace of his thrusts, lavishing every inch of your body that he could reach with love.

“Bradley! Oh, honey!” you gasped out loudly, frantically reaching out for something to grab onto—anything. The pleasure was becoming so intense that your brain felt fuzzy and you needed something to hold onto to steady you. Ultimately, you ended up reaching up behind you, clutching the top of the door, the window rolled all the way down so that your fingers could grab tightly at the solid metal of your husband’s car.

“So good. You feel so good, baby,” Bradley panted, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Despite the coolness of the night air, the temperature inside the Bronco was climbing steadily. “I’m gonna put another baby inside you, honey,” he promised, his thrusts growing more intense and determined.

“Please,” you nodded, clinging to him as your bodies bounced and rocked together in harmony. “Please, honey!”

You could feel the little droplets of sweat running down your neck as your body began approaching what was sure to be an explosive climax. Bradley must have noticed as well because he lowered his face to your neck once more, lightly licking your salty skin. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered against your chest, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts. “It’s fucking unreal.”

“Bradley! Baby, I’m so close,” you told him, your legs beginning to tremble, pressed underneath your husband’s weight. “Don’t stop. Don’t—faster. Go faster, baby, please,” you moaned, your back arching up off the seat as you buried your fingers in his hair and cupped his cheek with a shaking hand.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Bradley replied, pinning your hips down to the front seat of the car with both hands as his hips ricocheted against yours, while you squirmed and mewled desperately beneath him.

“Yes! Yes! YES!” you screamed, coming hard and fast as your body exploded around him, your walls quaking as he continued to slide in and out of you, your legs turning to Jell-O while your husband kissed you and chased his own orgasm.

“Don’t let me go, don’t let me go,” you begged, practically incoherent from the ecstasy your body had just experienced.

“I won’t. I won’t ever let you go,” Bradley promised, pressing a kiss to your hair and holding you close to his chest. Moments later, you felt him bottom out inside you and hold himself there, a soft grunt escaping from his lips as he spilled himself deep in your core, his chest heaving from the force of his own big finish.

The two of you lay like that for quite some time, Bradley still buried deep inside you as the two of you held onto each other like two people drowning in the middle of the ocean, clinging to each other desperately and working hard to catch your breath.

“I love you so much,” Bradley whispered hoarsely, finally breaking the tender silence. He brushed your hair back from your face and dropped a kiss on your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I love you, too. More than anything,” you whispered back, stroking his cheek affectionately.

“I don’t want to move. I wish we could stay like this all night,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Me, too,” you murmured, biting down on your lower lip. You smiled in amusement, your eyes crinkling softly. “But something tells me we wouldn’t be a very welcome sight when the beach opens tomorrow morning,” you laughed.

Bradley laughed as well, nodding. “When you’re right, you’re right,” he winked, stealing another kiss. Letting out a soft groan, he slowly shifted, sliding out of you slowly, trying to keep as much of his seed inside you as possible.

You immediately felt bereft the second he was no longer inside you.

“You look so pretty, honey. Stunning. As always,” Bradley told you, carefully reaching down to pick your lace panties up off the floor of the car and tenderly slide them back up your legs, tucking them into place. He pressed a couple kisses to the insides of your knees, then pulled your dress back down.

You sat up slowly as your husband pulled back and adjusted himself, running your fingers through your hair, which you knew must look wild at this point. You also knew that your back would be aching tomorrow, but it was more than worth it.

“Time to go home,” you yawned softly, suddenly feeling exhausted as you curled up against your husband’s side and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Time to go home,” Bradley nodded, kissing the top of your head as he put the Bronco in drive and peeled off into the evening darkness.

A few weeks later, after you had finally seen another little positive sign on your pregnancy test, you and Bradley were lying in bed and he noticed the huge smile that you couldn’t seem to wipe off your face, no matter how hard you tried.

“What’s that big smile for?” he asked with a grin, wrapping you up in his arms and resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Oh, nothing,” you told him, giggling despite yourself. “I just think I figured something out today.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bradley asked, lifting his head and raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you. “Care to share?”

Grinning from ear to ear, your eyes sparkled as you looked back at him. “Well, I was backtracking and trying to figure out exactly when this new little bundle of joy was conceived so that we can get as accurate a due date as possible,” you explained slowly, a teasing smile touching the corners of your mouth.

“And?” Bradley grinned, playing along indulgently. “Did you figure it out?”

“I did,” you nodded, smirking slightly. “I do believe this little nugget was conceived after our date night in La Jolla. You know, that night on the beach? In the Bronco?” you grinned slyly.

Bradley’s eyes widened slightly and then he let out a soft whoop of laughter, gathering you up in his arms. “That’s the power of the Bronco, baby,” he joked, winking at you.

Your laughter was swallowed up by his sweet kiss.

#mr. & mrs. bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #mrs. bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #top gun

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billthedrake · 1 year

Text

STANDING HALL PASS

"Hey," came his sexy voice as he let me into the hotel room. He had that killer smile that first made me crush out on the guy - when he first had that press conference for his hire my dick stood up immediately at his easygoing masculinity.

It still does. "Hey, Coach," I grinned, stepping in to follow him. This wasn't a date, but I tried to look my best for him. Sport coat, dress shirt, hair product in. Maybe because I'd met him smarted up in a blazer for an athletics award bruncheon. I was certainly overdressed now... the man had on sweatpants and an oversized team sweatshirt.

"You're looking good, G," Don said. "I got you a beer from room service," he offered, sitting down at the table. It wasn't a luxury hotel but it was a pretty nice room.

Coach Hartman and I had been having an affair for ten solid years now, and I was getting used to this phase. And to the man's desire to have a conversation before we fucked. So I sat down and we made chit chat, talked about the Broncos game the next day and my promotion at work.

It wasn't always like this. I was an Ohio State lax bro when we met, riding my youthful horniness and feeding of Coach Hartman's pent up sexual energy. We had some exploratory hookups at first, with wild, fevered sex, until we figured out a way to meet more frequently. I was living the dream, indulging my desire to top an older man, a man old enough to be my dad. That he was an honest to god NFL coach stud made me feel like I'd gotten the ultimate prize every time.

Then Don told me he had to break it off. Maybe a combination of guilt and fear of getting caught. I was from the Cincinnati area and I'd hung after graduation, but I knew it would suck being there and not being able to bone Hartman any more. Seeing him on the local news all the time, knowing he was just miles from where I lived. When I half lied and mentioned I was thinking of relocating to a different city, I saw the relief in his face and that nearly broke my heart. "I'd never ask that of you, Grant, but that would be for the best," he said.

So I moved to Denver. Had a great job and was into the outdoor culture. Even made some good friends quickly. But Denver is a young city and didn't have as many bottom daddies as I craved. Still, I was a good looking ex-jock, I did OK. And I took some vacations to Palm Springs that let me scratch my dadfucking itch.

It was about two years to the day when I heard from Don. He was still "William" in my contacts for the messaging, since I'd entered his middle name for anonymity sake. "How are you doing Grant?" was all it read.

The rest was history, I thought, as Hartman and I made small talk now, eye contact getting heavier. I kicked off my sneaker and ran my foot along his anke.

"You're making me hard," he whispered.

"That's the point, right, Don?" I teased. Working my foot higher.

He grunted and with a nod, raised his hips off the chair to pull down his sweats. The man was going commando and his smaller, thick tool stood up from the forest of grayish brown pubes. His legs weren't as toned as when we first started fooling around, but the man kept in shape.

I peeled off my socks and undid my jeans, not taking them off yet but letting my hardon have some breathing room in my briefs. I scooted the chair to angle us facing one another, allowing my foot to travel up his inner thigh, teasing him more. I don't know that either of us were into foot play, but this was novel and sexy, and I got off seeing Don's dadcock twitch.

"You sure you want to be with a 60 year old?" Coach asked, with a glint of flirting but also an insecurity there. He'd just had his birthday the previous week. Just as I'd had my 30th milestone the previous summer.

"Sure I'm sure," I replied. I breathed deep and felt my cock throb. I was glad it was no longer so constrained. "You sure you wanna be with a guy who gets turned on by fucking a 60 year old?"

I thought maybe I was going too far. Like a lot of guys, Don didn't like to think of himself as old, and he'd bristled any time I brought up any "dad" or "daddy" talk. But his spike jerked some, and I moved my foot up to tease his hairy balls sac and his short shaft.

He gave me a sly grin. "Maybe you have more of a granddaddy kink than a daddy one," he laughed.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Would that bug you?" I challenged him.

He laughed. "Honestly, Grant? I don't fucking know." This was Hartman in his laid back mode, more laid back than I'd seen him in a while. I liked this version of him, I decided.

I played with his exposed genitals some more, getting into the new kind of foreplay. "Well, 60 or not, you're hot as fuck, Don."

He smiled at me, those trademark dimples forming, then lifted up his sweatshirt. It was a gesture that said he was self conscious he didn't have the body he did at 50. But a gesture that said he was seeking my approval.

I gave it to him. "Seriously, Coach," I grunted. "Your body is incredible. All of you." I wasn't laying it on thick, it was the truth. I was now partnered with my boyfriend Kevin, who twelve years older and a total bottom who indulged my incest kink. But I'd been up front with him that I had a married fuck bud who was going to stay in the picture. A famous guy who'd remain anonymous. Kevin actually suspected it was Tim Ryan since I'd fantasized, crudely and out loud, about that man being my bottom bitch more than once.

Kevin had actually called things off with me, until he decided he could live with me hooking up with mystery man 2 or 3 times a year. I'd get a text from "William" and drop any plans I had to come over to the hotel Don was staying at.

Like now. Hartman was feeding off my praise and my clear lust. I pulled out my cock and let him see not only its size but how hard the man was making me.

"Why don't you come over and suck it, Coach," I hissed. I'd played up the alpha jock thing when we first met. Hartman had to get me to tone it down a little, since usually he was more likely to put out for a buddy rather than a dom type. But on occasion, I'd order him around and on occasion he'd get excited by it.

It never got old seeing the middle-aged man naked and hard, getting into servicing position between my legs. Even more as I realized he wouldn't be middle aged much longer.

I grunted as his hands ran along my jeans and his head came closer. His hair was grayer now, much grayer, almost bristly with the silver. I ran my hand through its short length and felt him hiss, just before his tongue made contact with my dick.

Don Hartman wasn't a good cocksucker when we met. That gave me a source of pride, that I was the one who trained him, taught him the way to treat a dick. If I wasn't into fucking so much and if Coach didn't have such an amazing ass, I'd be happy sticking to a nice BJ and calling it an evening.

But it had been too long since we'd gotten together. So I'd let Hartman work me up, tease me to a full fuck-hard. And maybe he wanted to indulge his newfound oral fixation, too. Fine by me. I just pulled him off when I got too close.

"You didn't have me come over just to suck me, did you, Coach?" I growled.

Don's fist now encircled my spit wet prick. "Nah, G.... I need this in me, man. You know that?" His face blushed red at the admission. Carrying on an affair with Hartman was an emotional mine field, but I learned to embrace that part of it, too.

I ran my thumb along his cheek. Still can't believing the man I lusted for in my high school years was here with me now, still... again. "I know, Coach.... you know it turns me on to hear you say it."

He gave me a sexy smile. The embarrassment not giving way fully but transforming into something else. "You know, I thought I could go cold turkey... when you moved away...."

That hit me deep. Maybe I was the one going on the emotional rollercoaster with Don. My whole hand now patted his cheek, stroking his face tenderly. A part of me wanted to give him a slap, but he and I didn't have that dynamic and never would. "I'm here now, Don.... maybe it's once a year, maybe it's more. Whenever you need this cock, tell me, OK?"

He nodded, almost grateful. Fuck, my dick throbbed and started leaking. Hartman's eyes watched excitedly. "Maybe I can fly you out East sometime. If your boyfriend would be OK with that." We had an asymmetrical understanding. Don could talk about Kevin, but his family was off limits to discuss when we hooked up.

"He'll be fine," I replied, reassuring him. Don still had major cheating guilt, but his one stipulation was that he was not going to be a homewrecker for me. "He knows I need this."

With that I leaned forward. Don leaned up and met me. We didn't always kiss, particularly in that "it's just a fuck" phase when we rekindled our affair. But lately, Coach had been open to it. So I greedily kissed back, working as much game as I could into each lip lock.

It wasn't entirely romantic, though. I was horny, and Hartman was crazy pent up. Maybe his wife hadn't been putting out much lately. Or maybe he'd just missed a man's touch after too long. I put no claim on the man, but I knew I was the only guy he fooled around with.

I stood up, and Don was a half beat behind. We embraced and I let Don help me take off my clothes. I was regretting now that I hadn't come in casual attire like Don, because I would be naked now. Sometimes the slow stripping is fun, but just then I wanted to get naked with this hunk of a granddaddy. It had been too long.

"GOD!" Don hissed as I finally peeled off my shirt. I hit the gym pretty regularly and I guess I was in even better shape than last time we'd hooked up. His hands greedily ran over my muscle.

I let him explore my body, then softly patted his ass. "On the bed, Coach. Face down."

He grinned and nodded. I watched him crawl up on the bed, pulling down the covers and settling into a comfortable position. I got up behind him and took a second to massage those daddy buns, feeling just what a 60 year man felt like. Hartman was the oldest guy I'd ever been with, and I found a strange thrill in that. He wasn't the man I first fucked ten years ago, but mentally I still had 50 year old Don in my head and loved the way that fed into the 60 year stud in front of me. Oscillating back and forth, each version bringing out the hotter part of the other.

I leaned in and started burying my face in his ass.

This was my calling card. Before me, Hartman didn't realize he loved getting eaten out so much. After our first time together, he knew that's what he'd been missing. Sometimes our rim sessions would be epic, but tonight it was just going to be intense. Maybe 5 minutes of me feasting on the coach hole I missed so much.

Hartman was worked up too much too. Within a minute he was bucking his hunky ass into my face, challenging me to hold his hamstrings or hips down to steady him. I did just that and powerdrilled my tongue in and out.

I couldn't take any more though. Thankfully Don had set out some lube. I slicked myself up and fingered a good bit into his hole. I knew he'd be tight, which was great but also not. Gently I guided him up to into a doggy position.

He was horny but also a little nervous. I patted his lower back and massaged his muscle some while my other hand worked my lubed pole along his crack and over his pucker.

"It's like riding a bike, Coach," I assured him.

He chuckled. "I want you to open me up again, G," he hissed.

I did. Bluntly I applied force to his ring, until I popped through. I actually wasn't skilled at this when I was 20 but I had it down now... force, then restraint, perfectly timed. I breached that coach hole and then held the breach still so the man could get comfortable with a dick in him again.

"Feeling good, Coach?" I asked when I felt the vicelike spasms let up.

"Jesus, G, you have no idea," he answered. "Go ahead... I'm all yours, buddy."

The magic words. I pushed all the way inside Don Hartman, feeling every bit of warmth and snugness and getting off on his mature muscle. Dad, Granddad... who the fuck cared who he was in my psyche just then. I gave gentle but deep strokes. All the way in, all the way out. I used his hips for leverage, slowly.

"Fuck me, Grant... oh god yeah..." Don hissed in time to my cock. Hartman may take a lot of work to break in sometimes, but when the man got into it, he really got into it.

My fingers gripped around his waist tighter and I fucked harder. I was amazed I was able to hold off this long, but it was gonna happen soon. I was gonna spunk the insides of one of the league's best coaches. I pounded faster, even, feeling so close. I didn't know how close Don was, but his hand was now on his spike, working himself in sync to the fuck I was throwing him.

"Goddamnit, Coach, I'm gonna cum... gonna cum inside you," I announced.

Maybe Don was close already. Or maybe the idea of my sperm shooting in him was the trigger. But I watched his back muscles tense and I heard his deep orgasmic grunt. Hartman was beating me to the finish line by a split second.

My prick fired heavy inside him. Several full jets of my cum flooded his raw NFL coach ass, soaking it full. I always felt like I had won a prize trophy after nailing Hartman, but I also liked to think I was giving him his own personal trophy and keepsake.

I slowed my hips and finally stopped, leaning down to kiss between his shoulder blades before I pulled out.

"That was incredible, Coach," I said. I felt I could never praise this man enough and in the afterglow I always felt grateful as hell.

He had a content smile when he rolled onto his back. The next time I'd have to do him missionary and take advantage of seeing his more mature body. "That it was, G." His hand reached forward and felt up my thigh muscle. "Maybe we can shower off together?"

I still never knew which Hartman I was gonna get. The man who'd be quiet and standoffish after orgasm. Or the one who wanted some intimacy after. But I rolled with the punches. I offered a hand and helped him out of bed.

We actually didn't kiss much in the shower, but it was amazing feeling up each other's body, soaping and rinsing.

When we dried off and got back into the main part of the room, I knew not to push my luck. "I know you have a big game tomorrow, Coach," I said, walking over to find my briefs.

"Yeah," he said. "But if you wanna come over tomorrow night... we can go a little longer then."

I knew I'd have to make this up to Kevin somehow. A whole weekend with another man. But I also knew I'd be back in this hotel room, probably overnighting here. I wasn't gonna pass up on that chance.

"That'd be awesome, Coach," I said, stepping up to get one last kiss. This time it was Don who didn't want to break it off. I felt my dick stir and knew I could go again with this coach hunk, but I would save it for tomorrow night.

I grinned as I pulled back. Maybe cocky, which I tried to keep in check around Don. But he smirked at my reaction. "Jesus, G... you haven't changed a bit since you were in college."

That wasn't true. But I knew what he meant. And I knew he was like me, getting off on the dynamic between me 10 years ago and me now. And liking that difference.

I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say that would be better than the afterglow we were feeling. So I got dressed, eye contact still heavy on Don as he sat, naked and content in his chair, watching me and finally finishing the last of his beer. I picked up my sportcoat... I could put it on later. Tomorrow, I'd definitely be casual.

"Just text me tomorrow and let me know what you're feeling," I instructed. Sometimes Don wasn't in the mood for sex after a tough game, and I always wanted to give him an out.

"You know I will, G," he said. That happy-go-lucky smile getting a more serious paternal look. "Thanks again for coming over."

"Anytime, Coach," I said. "You know that." I patted my pocket to make sure I had my phone. Then I bid him good night.

#drakestories

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blurredcolour · 8 months

Text

The Night Moves | Part Four

The Night Moves Masterlist

Alternate Universe

Vampire Hunterl!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; Vampire!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader

Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence, Blood, Major Character Death, Serious Reader Injury, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only

Author's Note: My Halloween party got crashed by COVID so surprise! Here is the second-last installment a few days early. Please be advised that two men go into this chapter and only one makes it out. You Have Been Warned!!

Word Count: 3933

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-Friday-

Waking the next morning to news of more murders in the neighborhood, it was no surprise that Bradley had insisted on driving you into work. It had not made the drive any less awkward, however. Loaded silence pervaded the apartment while you ate a quick breakfast and followed you into the Bronco until he had eventually surrendered to turning on the radio. You had parted with a barely audible ‘thanks’ at the curb before hurrying into work, not wanting to spend another moment in forced to be in his proximity. Tears had already broken through your resolve after you shut the bedroom door last night and you would have been loathe to give him the satisfaction of seeing fresh ones today.

Despite your intentions when declining Amira’s invite the night before, you had not taken that bath nor gone to bed early. Nor had your sleep been of any quality. Thankfully she arrived armed with an extensive make-up kit, nearly double the size of the one you had thrown into your bag that morning, and dedicated nearly all of the thirty minutes you had to get ready on making you look quite presentable. The bandage on your wrist was explained away easily as a cooking accident, though as Bradley predicted, it itched terribly. Utilizing the single-stalled washroom across the hall, you slid into the floor-length gown she had lent you, smoothing it over your curves.

You took a moment to appreciate the way the colour of it brought out your eyes. To marvel at the skill of Amira’s make-up. You looked good – vampire hunters plagued by latent professionalism be damned. Taking a deep breath and setting your chin at a confident angle you stepped out of the washroom to allow Amira a chance to change as well before the pair of you hurried to Flag Hall. Waiting there for you was the box of five hundred pouches, ready to be set out at each of the place settings on the banquet tables. Under the watchful eye of Caroline from Resource Development, one pouch was set at the top of each place, resting against the menu card, until three hundred and fifty were put out. The remainder would be given as gifts to the staff volunteering their time and a few select guests attending the cocktail hour but not staying for the seated dinner.

With that duty discharged, you were then seated at the registration table, assigned to different portions of the alphabet. You were responsible for checking in guests with last names from S to Z. The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of greetings and checking off names before the four lists were consolidated down to one. You and Amira were released from your obligations to go enjoy the remainder of the cocktail party and she quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Snagging a glass of one from one of the circling trays, you took a fortifying sip of wine before seeking out someone you knew, grateful when one of the department heads pulled you into a conversation already in progress with a few generous donors. Disappointingly, you found your tolerance for answering the same questions, discussing the same topics, having the same conversation repeatedly as you circulated the room wore thin with shocking speed. Instead, a scream began to build in the back of your throat, begging to be unleashed, and you set your second empty wine glass down on a nearby table with a touch more force than intended before quickly making your way from the hall.

Because whatever was about to fly out of your mouth – the truth that Bradley had revealed to you last night, or perhaps your sheer frustration with him for his lack of transparency whilst toying with your affections, or better yet how frivolous this gala felt in the face of the dead bodies that seemed to be falling in your wake…well more accurately Jacob’s wake as he followed you – it most certainly did not need an audience.

Making your way through the locked doors with your swipe card back to the sanctity of your workspace, you felt the urge to wail lessen the further you got away from the crowd. The frantic pace of your steps eased. Perhaps it was just time to go home. Sighing the last of the tension from your body, you opened the door to the intern office and nearly tripped over your dress as the long-legged lieutenant sat, swivelling idly in your computer chair.

“Ah.” He grinned broadly and stood smoothly, obviously having been waiting for you. His eyes raked over your form as he drank in your appearance. “You look truly divine this evening, pet.”

Stumbling backward, you winced as the harsh edges of the door frame jabbed into your shoulder blade. “What are you doing in here…how did you…” Your pulse rabbited in your throat as it felt terribly difficult to take a deep breath. His clothing had changed – a dress shirt that fit him perfectly, hinting at the musculature that lay beneath, and a pair of black slacks with a charcoal grey pea coat hanging open over top. No doubt stolen from one of the many corpses he had been leaving in your neighborhood, your mind supplied, causing your palms to grown damp with fear.

“Easy, pet, I missed you. There is no need to be quite so afraid.” Jacob soothed, stepping closer.

You shook your head violently. “I know what you are.” You hissed and pressed tighter to the door frame, away from him, legs wobbling slightly beneath your dress. You glanced behind him to your desk where your phone was locked away in a drawer…Bradley might as well have been on the moon for how easily you could reach him now. Yet thinking of your usual savior also brought with it a new bitterness that had you furrowing your brows.

“Then you know what I want.” Jacob murmured, stalking closer to trail a frigid forefinger down your cheek.

Your eyes flicked to his face, focusing on his unnaturally luminous green eyes as you swallowed nervously. “Were,” you began, hesitated, but set your jaw in determination and continued, “were you really there?”

He arched an eyebrow, silently prompting you to expound on your question.

“During the War of Independence?” You clarified, sinking your teeth into your lower lip anxiously as he was awfully close and more than a little lethal.

His eyes glinted ominously as he seized upon something you desired. “I most certainly was. Born in 1760, came of age in the thick of it. Why do you ask?” He tilted his head in feigned innocence.

You exhaled shakily, trying desperately to smother your excitement at the idea of a firsthand source for a long passed historical era. Yet as you attempted to focus on Bradley’s warning that the man who had lived through that time period had been murdered to give birth to the creature before you, all you felt was the sting of his rejection. The questions you longed to pose to the lieutenant were endless. Right before you was a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn from someone who had been there.

“You are fairly teeming with questions, are you not, pet?” There was a derogatory edge to his tone. A smugness at having sniffed out something you desired. “The information only I could provide would certainly be quite the feather in your cap. Surely would secure your place within this palace of stolen things.” He smirked, drawing your gaze to his striking white teeth.

Reluctantly, you nodded, lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. “Yes.” You admitted in a hushed whisper after a moment.

“It seems to me, darling, that we have an opportunity before us. There is something that I greatly desire from you…” He paused, eyes taking a moment to drink in the column of your throat. “…and you in kind from myself. Shall we not make a deal?” He raised an eyebrow.

Alarm bells rung distantly in your consciousness as your hands fisted into the fabric of your dress, awareness of his true nature warring with the desire to learn all that you could from him. A war taking place on an internal battlefield muddled by whatever mental impairment his very presence seemed to inflict upon you. The sound of a door opening down the hall jarred both of you and he looked to you sharply.

“Might we take this somewhere more private?” He asked hurriedly.

“Not my house.” You replied reflexively, able to keep some sense of clarity and recall Bradley’s insistence from the night before. “A hotel.” You nodded to yourself before pushing off the doorframe, past the lieutenant, and toward your desk.

Grabbing a fresh notebook, your phone, extra charger, and shoving it all into your bag, you threw on your jacket before leading him out the delivery entrance. Purposefully avoiding any and all prying eyes – particularly Bradley’s. As you walked, you retrieved your phone to pull up a hotel booking site, snagging a last-minute deal on a room a few blocks away. It was by no means glamorous – a dated, two-star hotel, but all you needed was a place to make a deal with a murderous creature. You did not need to also break the bank to do it.

Fog swirled around the hem of your dress with each step you took as you glanced around nervously, for once hoping not to see any trace of Bradley Bradshaw. The humidity had combined with the frigid air to create an unsettling ambience and the fact that a murderer was following hot on your heels did nothing to ease your tension. You were surprised the grip you held on the pen whilst signing in at the hotel did not cause the writing implement to snap in half. The front desk clerk, mercifully, made no comment on the absence of any and all luggage, handing over the room key with no more than directions to the elevators.

The key chain bearing the room number jangled in your hand as you struggled to align it with the lock, eventually sliding it home and opening the door to a cramped, musty room with a queen size bed and small desk. Jacob slid out of his jacket, finding a hanger in the tiny closet to place it on before reaching a hand out in silent offer to do the same with yours.

You shook your head quickly in refusal and stepped over to the desk, pulling out the chair and perching on the edge of it apprehensively. Jacob chuckled easily and sat on the edge of the bed across from you. The polyester coverlet printed with a patchwork design popular from several decades previous made an aggravating swish sound against his trousers.

“Your terms?” He smirked, clearly at ease as he planted his hands behind his hips, leaning back with casual arrogance.

“Answer my questions. Truthfully.” Came your immediate reply. “As many as I can think of….”

“Within a three-hour time limit.” He countered, eyes narrowing playfully, clearly enjoying himself.

You chewed your lip, briefly concerned it would not be enough time, but the volume of questions that had been welling up inside you would ensure it would be used wisely.

You nodded before asking, “and yours?” loathing the tremble in your voice, even though you were pretty certain what he wanted.

“Let me drink my fill of you…” His voice was thick, roughened by desire, his gaze intense as he spoke.

Your throat constricted nervously, and you swallowed to clear it. “You cannot kill me…” You protested.

“No of course not.” His face took on a mask of tenderness. “What a terrible waste that would be pet…just enough to satisfy.” He assured you.

You sat on the poorly cushioned chair eyeing him warily, heart still beating at quite a steady clip as the potential terms of your agreement hung in the air, awaiting your assent. The factors at play paraded through your hindered consciousness – the danger of him, the opportunity of him, the mix of pain and pleasure offered in his bite. Your hand strayed to your inner wrist absently, scratching futilely through the bandage there. His eyes flickered down to follow the movement, lips stretching wider into a knowing grin.

Blinking in confusion you glanced down to where his gaze was aimed and huffed in frustration at yourself before thrusting your hand out to him to shake. “Deal.”

With a bemused grin he took your hand in his, grip as cold as marble as he shook in agreement.

“I would also hazard a guess that you need some food before we begin, pet? Need you to keep up your strength.” He grinned as he settled back against the headboard, legs stretched out before him.

You frowned slightly as you realized he was right – two glasses of wine and a few canapes were not going to sustain you. Rifling around on the desk you found a room service menu and called down to order the most appetizing thing they had on offer. Plugging your phone into charge, you opened the fresh notebook and started an audio recording in an app. Your last step was to set a timer for one hundred and eighty minutes before looking to the lieutenant.

“Ready?”

“Whenever you are, pet.” He nodded.

Pressing start on your timer, you asked your first question. The question that had been burning in your mind since you had first examined the artifacts three days ago. “Why did you have a coat from both sides?”

“Made my life easier. I could go wherever I wanted, do what I needed to, wearing the colours of convenience.” He answered with open honesty as you began scrawling into your notebook.

You were relieved that he was upholding his side of the bargain and yet felt an increased nervousness at the idea of having made a deal with a man without loyalties.

“What did you do during the war?”

“Joined up, of course. A group of us enlisted in the South Carolina Continental Army shortly after Independence was declared. My father was proud, my mother was less than pleased given than I was only sixteen, but we were caught up in the political fervor, desperate to join the fight that had been brewing for years. I could already shoot better than most of the recruits, and I was good with horses. It was easy to get a promotion to lieutenant. Especially when our soldiers were dropping like flies.” His tone took on an edge of bitterness that had you glancing up from your notes, but he was gazing off toward some unseen memory at the end of the bed.

“It was becoming increasingly apparent that were severely disadvantaged, particularly when it came to our leadership. The great Washington did not make his way south of Virginia, you see, we were left to fend for ourselves in an increasingly desperate fight against a superior enemy. By 1780 Charlestown had fallen to the British and I had no more interest in dying for a lost cause. I fled my post, made my way into the city to make a living off of my connections and the occupying troops desperate for the finer things that were hard to come by.”

A memory of the ledger found inside the sarcophagus, filled with its neat rows of items and prices, flitted through your mind and you swallowed. “A smuggler.”

“Some called me that, yes.” Jacob chuckled, looking to you with a shrug. “I was no longer killing people, my life was more comfortable, how could it not be considered an improvement for everyone involved?”

A knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food, startled you into scratching a jagged line of ink along the margin of your notebook. Exhaling shakily, you stood to go retrieve the tray, finding some loose bills in your bag to tip the porter, before carrying the food in and setting it on the desk. Finding the small room overly warm, you shrugged out of your coat at last, not missing the way Jacob’s eyes traced every inch of skin revealed to him by the action.

“Where did you grow up?” You asked your next question, hoping to divert his attention and not waste any more time than you already had.

Alternating between taking notes and eating bites of your rapidly cooling food, you covered all manner of topics from his upbringing to the ins-and-outs of eighteenth-century smuggling. Your notebook grew increasingly full, the pages curling slightly from your frantic shorthand highlighting thoughts and ideas born from his answers, not wanting to miss any details even though you knew it was also being recorded.

“How did you become a vampire?” You asked just as your alarm chimed and you frowned in dismay. How could three hours have passed already…

“I will give you that one, pet, because I am a man of honor.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up to face you properly. “My trade had me working with all manner of people, procuring all sorts of items. That is where I first encountered the children of the night. I provided them with what I thought was traditional evening entertainment, but they were soon having me disposing of the leftover pale corpses with ravaged throats. After much persuasion they promised me eternal life…” He laughed bitterly.

“I had barely paid the price of high-value Continental Army information – no sooner had I been turned when the ancestors of your handsome Bradley,” you breath hitched in your throat and his eyes flashed with irritation “showed up for all of us. They promised me a way out, passage back to England. They locked me in that box with my consent. With the understanding that I would be freed as soon as I was aboard a ship out of this place. But instead, I lay there forgotten, my veins running dry, rasping against my skin until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Until a few days ago when your sweet blood fell upon my lips, bringing me back. Now,” his eyes darkened as he stood, looming over you, “you have had your fun. It is my turn.”

He leaned forward, lips parted, baring elongated fangs as he prepared to bite your neck, but you planted a firm hand against his chest, pen still threaded through your fingers. “Wait…s…somewhere it can’t be seen….” You pleaded shakily.

He pulled back with a growing smirk before sinking to his knees before you, fingers seeking the skin of your ankles beneath your dress. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at his cool touch, watching with bated breath as his hands rose up your legs, the hem of your dress gathering at his wrists. Your hands fell to clutch at the arm rests of the chair as he eased your knees apart, inhaling your scent greedily. You could feel each rapid beat of your heart lodged in your throat, shifting slightly at the feel of warmth gathering at the apex of your thighs, certain Jacob was more than aware of the effect his proximity was having on your traitorous body as he grew ever closer to that warmth.

With one final glance up at you he at last turned his head to sink his fangs into the supple flesh of your inner thigh. Your head fell back between your shoulders with a ragged moan, one which he echoed against your skin, your body trembling in response. A mixture of pain and pleasure rocketed through your body as he began to feed, drawing your blood from the bite wound, making you writhe beneath him. A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as his hands moved to pin your hips, holding you in place as he swallowed greedily.

Gradually your grip on the arms of the chair weakened, the beat of your heart dropped to a normal tempo before becoming sluggish beneath your rib caged. Rolling your head forward, you feebly tried to push his mouth away, afraid he was drinking too much. The lieutenant did not budge, eyes closed in ecstasy, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully, as he continued to drink.

“Jacob…” You whimpered weakly. “We…had a deal…” You panted in an odd cocktail of frantic languidness.

A terrific thud suddenly collided with the door, but you barely had the wherewithal to flinch in reaction. It was followed by several more before the door frame gave away with the horrific screech of protesting metal and wood. Through heavy eyelids you watched a slightly winded Bradley Bradshaw hurtle into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the scene – Jacob’s position between your legs, your inability to lift your own head. In a swift movement blurred by your weakened state, he was suddenly grasping a stake in his fist, his knuckles gone white from the force with which he held the weapon. Jacob, meanwhile, remained suctioned to your flesh like an overgrown leech, oblivious to all around him.

Bradley wasted no time, drawing his arm back to gain momentum before powerfully driving the stake into Jacob’s back between his ribs. His head snapped up from your thigh with a roar, mouth and neck painted with your blood as he stumbled to his feet, reaching back for the intruding object. With one final blow of his palm to the hilt of the stake, Bradley drove the point of the wood straight through Jacob’s heart. The dying vampire gave a pathetic gasp before his entire being suddenly disintegrated before your very eyes.

Leaving you staring in lethargic shock, Bradley stepped into the tiny washroom that could barely contain his frame and gathered a towel and robe from, returning to press the rough fibres of the towel against the tender flesh. You yelped pathetically, pushing at him weakly as tears pricked your eyes. You did not have the energy to determine if they were tears of shame or tears of sadness for the pile of dust now on the carpet that had very recently been the lieutenant.

“You killed him.” You breathed faintly.

“He was killing you.” Bradley replied sharply, punctuating his statement by pulling the towel tightly around your thigh with the belt of the robe, tying a secure knot in the terrycloth.

You flinched in pain before gulping as he pulled the hem of your dress down over your legs to preserve your modesty. You vision was beginning to narrow as he leaned down to retrieve his stake, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to lift you into his arms, all brisk efficiency. His ability to find you in a hotel with over two hundreds of rooms, in a city full of dozens of hotels, was a puzzle you might not ever be able to solve. Least of all now with your rapidly dimming consciousness.

“Wait!” You channeled the last of bit of effort within your body towards catching his attention. “My stuff…” You gestured listlessly at your phone and notebook, wanting at the very least for this to have not been all for naught.

“You historians are really something else.” He replied gruffly before sweeping your things into your bag, hanging it from his shoulder before scooping you up, his supernatural strength making it a thing of ease as he hurried for the elevator.

“Where we goin’….” Your head lolled forward against his chest, shivering against the radiant heat of his body, barely able to form the words.

“Hospital.” He grunted before everything faded to black.

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

Read Part Five

The Night Moves Masterlist

Tag list: @moonyinthestars, @roger-that-cap, @gaminffnerd, @blckgrl-sunflower

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #rooster x you #hangman x you #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #vampire au #vampire hunter au

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mosneakers · 10 months

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On his porch down yonder at Canyon Crossing, old Don Gooseman rocks gently in his old wooden chair. His old trusty hound, Gus, waits obediently by his old dusty boots, and his old faithful steed, Duke, isn't far behind, grazin' on some prairie grass nearby. He don't need no free earbuds, Don's got the symphony of the creaking floorboards, the fiddlin' crickets, and frogs a' hummin'.

It's a night just like any other ol' night, or so Don thought. But things take a curious little turn when Duke begins to neigh in a panicked frenzy and Gus starts to whimper. Don: [Looks behind him] What's gotten into you, feller?

Before Don could finish his sentence, he turns back to see a pulsating glow coming from the window of the rental cabin. Now, Don's eyes ain't what they used to be, but in all his years, he don't recall ever seein' nothin' like that before.

Don: What in the buckin’ bronco two-bit tarnation?

#ts4 #Sims 4 #the sims 4 #Thought we needed some comic relief #a palate cleanser if you will #are we ok after that last post? because same😔#ts4 story #Don Gooseman #Chestnut Ridge #MD4 #sims 4 #MD4season10 #Curious Family Reunion #aliens

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thegigilwriter · 1 month

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10 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Drama, serious burns

10 | The Hard Deck 🍺

August 13, 2023

Penny

It was a bustling Friday night and Penny was wiping down the counter, when from the corner of her eye, Rooster had entered the vicinity clad in his usual Hawaiian shirt and swoon-evoking grin. She had anticipated the usual hollers that indicated his entrance, but what she didnʼt expect was the small woman whom his large hand was on the curve of her waist. She was beautiful: with smiling eyes, transcending wavy locks of mahogany hair, a glowing olive complexion, and a pleasant laugh. She had donned on a cute lacy eggshell-colored top, dark wash denim shorts, and knee high cowboy boots. Penny was amused as Rooster kissed her cheek in front of all his friends and held her hand.

She watched as this exuberant stranger light up the faces in front of her as they conversed. When Phoenix entered a few minutes later, she embraced this new girl so warmly, one would have thought they were friends for years. Penny slipped out her phone from her pocket and began texting her beau.

To: Pete ♥

Come down here, thereʼs something you might wanna see.

“So Lucy, what do you do?ˮ Javy ‘Coyoteʼ Machado asked her, learning on his billard pole. Bradley had gone to get their drinks from Penny, and Lucy was left in their company.

“Iʼm a marine biologist,ˮ she replied. “I work at Umi.ˮ

“That pretty building up the coast?ˮ Mickey ‘Fanboyʼ Garcia followed up, after a strike.

“The very one,ˮ Lucy smiled.

“Heard itʼs exclusive,ˮ Reuben ‘Paybackʼ Fitch remarked. “One of my friends applied there — real smart guy — he got denied though.ˮ

“It is competitive,ˮ Lucy hummed.

“Sheʼs being humble. Itʼs like the Top Gun of marine research centers,ˮ Nat chimed in, as she cupped Lucyʼs shoulder. “That makes Angel here one of us.ˮ

Lucy blushed.

“Thatʼs a pretty callsign,ˮ Javy smirked. “Did Rooster give you that?ˮ

“Rooster did what now?ˮ Jake had entered the conversation smoothly, meeting eyes with Lucy and throwing a wink in her direction.

“Itʼs you,ˮ Lucy narrowed her eyes.

“Well if it isnʼt my sendoff proxy,ˮ Jake smirked, popping a toothpick in his mouth. “Now what brings you here?ˮ

“You two know each other?ˮ Phoenix looked between them quizzically.

“Iʼd like to know that too actually,ˮ Bradley stepped in handing Lucy a beer and surrounding her shoulders with his arm.

“Hangman,ˮ he acknowledged. “You look... good.ˮ

“I am good Rooster, Iʼm very good, ˮ Jake chuckled, his gaze alternating between him and Lucy. “And it seems that so are you.ˮ

“Lucy here was kind enough to send me off the last time we met, Rooster thatʼs all…ˮ Jake chuckled. “Isnʼt that right darlinʼ?ˮ

“I take it you two know each other quite well?ˮ Lucy looked to Bradley.

“Hangman?ˮ Bradley took a swig of his beer. “He and I go way back.ˮ

“Lucy Mitchell, if youʼll allow me this one request, I am absolutely dying to know how you got into such good graces with his rascal that he lets you drive his Bronco,ˮ Jake drawled. “I swear, I have never seen a man so desperate for the end of a deployment like he was.ˮ

“Got lucky I guess,ˮ Lucy shrugged. “One day I was bumping into him by the docks, and here we are now.ˮ

“Such a sweet gal you have Bradshaw,ˮ Jake remarked. “Didnʼt think they were your type.ˮ

Phoenix suddenly looked alarmed, eyes darting quickly between Bradley and Jake as they stared each other down. To her surprise, Lucy was the one who spoke first.

“I like to think that Bradley doesnʼt have a ‘typeʼ per se, but with me? I think heʼs finally set some standards,ˮ Lucy said coolly. “Maybe you can use some so you wouldnʼt need a proxy sendoff next time?ˮ

Reuben spit out his beer in mid-chug, Javy guffawed, and Mickey was just rubbing it into Jake like salt into a wound. Nat was straight up laughing like a lunatic and Bradley was astounded — proud, but astounded.

“Best of luck to you Bradshaw,ˮ Jake sighed. “Sheʼs sweet and spicy.ˮ

“Have I ever told you, that youʼre amazing?ˮ Bradley whispered to the shell of her ear.

“Youʼve implied that several times, but Iʼd like to be rewarded.ˮ Lucy grinned cheekily.

“Whatever you want, baby.ˮ He replied to her quietly.

The night treaded on and Bradley and Nat eventually joined in the game of billiards. Bob, arriving a little later than expected, was later in deep conversation with Lucy about her the nature of her work and her research. Later, Jake challenged Lucy to a game of darts and he found that he had finally met his match — their competitive bout ending in a stalemate. Bradley watched Lucy among his friends as they laughed about something that Reuben had said. He smiled, just observing how well she adjusted into his kind of people. She looked right being with them. Being with her felt right.

“Your friends are really fun,ˮ she told him as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Thank you for bringing me here.ˮ

“Iʼm just glad you enjoyed yourself Angel,ˮ Bradley replied as he kissed her forehead sweetly. “Iʼm so happy you feel comfortable around my friends. Theyʼre good people...ˮ

“I mean… Jakeʼa kind of an asshole sometimes,ˮ he quickly added as Lucy giggled. “But youʼll get used to him.ˮ

“I donʼt know... I think heʼs just lonely,ˮ Lucy smiled. “I think he just needs someone, like I am to you.ˮ

“Only God can help him with that now,ˮ Bradley chuckled.

“Hey, do you want some water?ˮ She asked him. “Youʼre hitting it pretty hard... unless you want me to drive?ˮ

“Letʼs get one thing right Angel,ˮ Bradley grunted. “Youʼre my passenger princess as long as Iʼm here, okay?ˮ

“Okay,ˮ Lucy giggled.

“And yes,ˮ he said. “I would really like some water, thank you baby.ˮ

Lucy made a beeline for the bar and behind it, she asked the pretty woman with crow lines and a magnetic stare for Bradleyʼs glass of water and another bottle of beer for her. As the bartender set off to complete her request, Lucy felt someone occupy the empty seat she stood next to.

“Never seen you around here before,ˮ the stranger uttered, taking a sip from her glass. “Got a name?ˮ

As Lucy turned to reply, she beheld this beautiful woman with long jet-black hair curled like a princess with strikingly green eyes. Her makeup was flawless, her perfume confidently exuding, and her nails well-maintained. Even in khakis, one could guess that she must have a perfect body — one that even models envy.

“Lucy,ˮ she told her, still gaping at her ethereal appearance.

“Aisling Akerman,ˮ the woman nodded, eyes grazing Lucy from head-to-toe. “But my callsignʼs Nova.ˮ

“Itʼs nice to meet you Nova,ˮ Lucy smiled and thanked the bartender wordlessly as she set down her beer and water. Aisling eyed them before her gaze settled on Lucy.

“You came here with a boyfriend, Lucy?ˮ Aisling asked her.

“Yes,ˮ she replied. “Heʼs a pilot too. Uh... callsign... Rooster?ˮ

“Good olʼ Rooster,ˮ Aisling chuckled as she swirled the contents her glass around. “You know, if you hadnʼt mentioned him by name, I would have never known...ˮ

Lucy looked at her perplexedly. It didnʼt take too long until the gears clicked and a light bulb took its shine. From afar, Nat nudged Bradley as he was about to take his turn, forcing him to avert towards the direction Nat had pointed to him. Jake followed suit, and his eyes widened slightly. Bradley was just about to approach the bar counter until Jake stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“What the hell, Hangman?ˮ Bradley hissed.

“Thatʼs Nova, ainʼt it?ˮ Jake clarified. “Give them a minute... I have a really good feeling about this.ˮ

“Hangman,ˮ Bradley enunciated as patiently as he could. “I am not putting Lucy in harmʼs way for your entertainment. If you donʼt step aside right now I will not hesitate to beat the living shi—“

“Oh would you just calm down?!ˮ Jake hissed back. “Have some faith in your girl, Rooster. Sheʼs got some fight in her... I can tell...ˮ

“Girl to girl Lucy, youʼre not exactly Bradleyʼs type,ˮ Aisling drank again. “Take it from me, heʼll just fuck around with you for a while until he dumps you for the next hot piece of ass. Itʼll be good for a while — I mean they call him Rooster for a reason, if you catch my drift? But youʼre a nice little girl, youʼre cute, and Iʼm sure youʼd make a nice little wife someday. But not with this one babe — this oneʼs for the bad girls... besides donʼt you think heʼs a little out of your league?ˮ

“Nova, is it?ˮ Lucy chuckled, staring out into the crowd with a smile. “You know I find it quite ingenious that aviatorsʼ callsigns are a subtle reference to their own temperaments. So I can only wonder to what yours alludes to — is it the unprecedented brightness of a newborn star or its inevitable death into the dark abscesses of cold space?ˮ

Lucy looked straight into her eyes.

“I know women like you,ˮ Lucy told her softly. “You draw men in and lavish in their attention. But when it becomes too much, you cast them out and disappear — and when you decide that you need them you simply do it all over again just because you can. So donʼt be mistaken Nova, I donʼt fear women like you, I pity you — because behind that bold red lip, that smoky eye, and all your extensions is a little girl whoʼs too afraid to know what real love could look like for herself. And between you and me, I donʼt think Iʼm that little girl.ˮ

Aisling stared right back at her, dumbstruck. She blinked her eyes rapidly and swallowed deeply before setting her drink down slowly. Their eyes met briefly before Aisling casted her gaze down in defeat and sliding off her seat and heading towards the exit.

“No fucking way...ˮ Mickey gaped at the slumped shell of Aisling ‘Novaʼ Akerman leaving the Hard deck.

“For the first time in history ladies and gentlemen,ˮ Javy announced comically. “The Nova has been contained.ˮ

“Would you look at that,ˮ Nat sighed with crossed arms. “Roosterʼs scot-free.ˮ

“The lucky son-of-a-bitch,ˮ Jake laughed.

Bradley was simply without words as he watched Penny come up to Lucy from behind the bar.

“That,ˮ Penny chuckled. “Is the most well-articulated comeback I have ever heard in this vicinity. Whatʼs your name, kid?ˮ

“Lucy,ˮ she told the bartender.

“Iʼm Penny,ˮ she replied. Just then, Lucy got a glance of the sign that hung over the bar that had said: ‘Disrespect a lady, the navy, or put your cellphone on my bar you buy a round.ʼ

“Looks like a roundʼs on me, huh?ˮ Lucy said to her. “I seem to have violated two out of three of your terms.ˮ

“Donʼt worry about it,ˮ Penny dismissed. “That one had a long time coming, trust me. And donʼt you dare start feeling bad about it now...ˮ

“Itʼs the default setting I guess,ˮ she shrugged.

“Well un-default it,ˮ Penny said to her. “You can be nice and a badass at the same time. Just own it.ˮ

Lucy smiled.

“And about the things she said back there,ˮ Penny began to say. “Roosterʼs a good guy, and believe it or not... Iʼve never seen him introduce a girl to his friends.ˮ

“I know,ˮ she nodded. “Thank you. I just... I harbor a very... intense disdain towards people who use other people for their own gain, you know?ˮ

“You have just done me the biggest favor,ˮ Penny shook her head, chuckling.

“Whatʼs that? Surely there are worser guests than Nova?ˮ

“No,ˮ Penny sighed. “But as his godmother of sorts youʼve put my mind at ease.ˮ

Lucy looked to Bradley from across the bar and he smiled upon meeting her gaze.

“Go to him,ˮ she gestured with her chin. “Your tabʼs on me tonight, Lucy. Welcome to the Hard Deck.ˮ

Lucy thanked Penny before heading over towards Bradley and the others with his water and her bottle of beer. Bradley secured an arm around her once more, kissing the top of her head.

“Hey Lucy,ˮ Mickey called out. “My ex Aubrey lives just a couple of blocks down the street. You mind talking to her for me?ˮ

A round of laughs resounded.

“Jesus Luce,ˮ Nat remarked. “What the hell did you say to her? Iʼve never seen that girl walking the walk of shame, much less runninʼ out of here with her tail between her legs!ˮ

“I told you Rooster,ˮ Jake mused. “You could learn a thing or two from your girl.ˮ

“Youʼre just full of surprises tonight, arenʼt you.ˮ Bradley teased her.

“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandusˮ Lucy whispered.

“What does that mean?” He asked her.

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” she giggled.

Bradley chuckled, marveling at this new side of his girlfriend— the smart-mouthed, impulsive, and fiery persona veiled beneath her angelic appearances.

“Yeah?ˮ He replied. “Well right now Iʼve got an itching to do something Iʼve been thinking of for a long time...ˮ

“So do it, Rooster.ˮ Lucy whispered impishly. Striking a chord with her seductively irresistible gaze and the mention of his callsign, Bradley led Lucy towards the piano on the other side of the Hard Deck, pulling the plug on the jukebox secretly along the way. He sat down, fiddling with the piano keys before pulling her towards a seat on his lap. Nat, Javy, Reuben, Mickey, Bob, and even Jake followed a few moments later as a crowd began to gather around them— knowing exactly what was about to go down.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain Too much love drives a man insane

You broke my will

But what a thrill

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!“

“I laughed at love 'coz I thought it was funny

You came along and you moved me, honey I've changed my mind

This love is fine

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!ˮ

“Kiss me, babbbyy!ˮ

Lucy placed a quick kiss on Bradleyʼs cheek and he shivered animatedly as she half-laughed and half-sang along.

“Mmmmh, it feels good!

Hold me, baby —

Well, I'm off to love you like a lover should.ˮ

Bradley, not missing a beat nor key, met his loverʼs eyes as they passionately sung together, with their heads banging and their eyes smiling to the heavens.

“Oh! You're fine, so kind

Got to tell this world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!

I chew my nails and then I twiddle my thumbs

I'm real nervous, but it sure is fun

Come on, baby

You drive me crazy

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!ˮ

As Bradley played the solo with practiced perfection and with Lucy as his muse, a new straggler stumbled into the bar still donned in his flight suit with unruly hair and basked in sweat. Even so, Penny had come right around the bar and gave him a kiss on the cheek and treaded her fingers through his locks.

“Hey lover,ˮ he smiled at her.

“Mav,ˮ Penny sighed. “You operate what is arguably the fastest thing on the planet, when do you think youʼll ever be on time?ˮ

“But weʼve got all this time babe,ˮ Pete grinned boyishly, setting his hands on her waist. “Whatʼs a few minutes here on the ground?ˮ

“Alright, alright.ˮ Penny conceded as they walked behind the counter and offered him a bottle after unsealing the cap.

“If my memory serves me right, there was something you wanted to show me?ˮ Pete whispered. Penny gestured towards Bradley and the roaring crowd. It took a while, but what Pete eventually saw made his eyes widen slightly and a smile tighten his lips.

“Is that... a girl on Roosterʼs lap?ˮ

Penny nodded enthusiastically.

“Has he... ever done that before?ˮ Pete asked her once more.

“No,ˮ Penny shook her head. “I think heʼs quite serious about this one. Sheʼs a nice kid. And oh! You know Nova, right?ˮ

“Come on babe,ˮ Pete looked at her. “I donʼt forget everything...ˮ

“I literally found your toothbrush in your coffee mug this morning, but thatʼs besides the point,ˮ Penny wrinkled her nose. “Lucy here sent her out the door crying. Crying, babe.ˮ

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?ˮ

“Iʼm telling you Pete, this girl — sheʼs a keeper...ˮ

Pete and Penny watched as Bradley concluded ‘Great Balls of Fireʼ with an astounding round of applause and hearty cheers just like he did every time. Except at the end of, he had a girl on his lap to kiss. As the crowd dissipated from its high and returned to its simmering presence, Pete and Penny surged forward towards the couple and met them by the piano bench. Lucy was still snug on Bradleyʼs thigh when he looked over his shoulder to meet someone.

“Hey, Mav!ˮ She heard Bradley say.

“Rooster!ˮ A man had replied. Bradley led Lucy unto her feet as they stood to face another stranger of the night. Lucy straightened her blouse and when she had finally turned to introduce herself... she stopped— a blank expression eclipsing her visage.

His hazel eyes.

The shape of his smile.

The broadness of his shoulders. Even the way he stood.

It can’t be… Ford?

On the other side of the conversation, Penny was dumbfounded as she tugged at Peteʼs flight suit — shaking him awake from some sort of temporary possession. In Pete Mitchellʼs eyes there was something so utterly fond and familiar about the girl in front of him. He suddenly felt the humidity on his back, whiffed a sea breeze, and heard the vocalizations of a song far into his memory. It had been a long time since he had uttered that name, and still, it came naturally from his tongue as it did all those years ago...

“Tala?ˮ He croaked, staring at Lucy.

Bradley and Penny were visibly confused by their wordless interaction, eyes darting between Pete and Lucy as they seemed to exchange an odd conversation of sorts.

“N-No,ˮ Lucy finally replied after feeling as if she was just hit by a train. “Iʼm Lucy —“

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ Pete sighed. “You just really looked like someone I used to kn—“

“Tala? Tala Adlawan?ˮ

Pete stopped and slowly nodded at her words. Lucy paused staring at him in disbelief.

“Thatʼs my mom,ˮ she said quietly. “Do you know... her?ˮ

“From a really long time ago,ˮ Pete breathed out.

“Angel,ˮ Bradley said to her. “This is Maverick — my godfather. He was my dadʼs best friend. Mav, this is Lucy, my girlfriend — but it seems that youʼre already.... acquainted?ˮ

“Pete youʼre staring,ˮ Penny chuckled.

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ Pete laughed lightly, looking back at Lucy. “Itʼs just so uncanny. You look exactly like her...ˮ

“Who is Tala, babe?ˮ Penny asked him.

“An...old friend,ˮ Pete said. “I met her back at Atsugi back in ‘96.ˮ

Lucyʼs eyes widened slightly, a sudden itch occupying her hands.

“Well you guys should come over for dinner!ˮ Penny suggested. “Weʼd love to get to know you a little more, Lucy. Bradleyʼs never officially introduced a girl to us, you just have to come!ˮ

“I would love to,ˮ Lucy smiled. The night at the Hard Deck concluded on that note as Lucy and Penny exchanged numbers and Rooster bid farewell to a still awestruck Maverick.

Just as Lucy was headed towards the parking lot, Bradley pulled her with him to the beach. They left footprints on the sand as they walked beneath the light of the moon and the distant outdoor lamps of the Hard Deck. They settled in a peaceful spot on the sand, not too near or far from the water and overlooking the horizon. Lucy was caged between his thighs and embraced in his arms. He kissed her cheek.

“Youʼre a little quiet,ˮ Bradley remarked. “Are you okay?ˮ

“Y-Yeah,ˮ Lucy smiled at him reassuringly as she grazed his cheek. “Iʼm more than okay Bradley, thank you.ˮ

“Mav seemed to have caught you by surprise back there,ˮ Bradley chuckled.

“You have no idea,ˮ Lucy sighed.

It was all too uncanny.

Could it really just be a coincidence?

A beat.

“Tala,ˮ Bradley repeated. “Your mom has a pretty name. Does it mean something?ˮ

“Tala is the name of a goddess in Filipino mythology,ˮ Lucy recalled. “She governs the stars.ˮ

“Huh,ˮ he mused. “Your mom is named after a star goddess and yours happens to mean ‘light.ʼ So, the star goddess and her light. One canʼt exist without the other — very poetic.ˮ

“Iʼve never seen it that way,ˮ she replied. “Iʼve always seen it from a perspective that... I can never... possibly measure up to a goddess — the one who creates the light.ˮ

“Hey, look at me.ˮ She met his kind, honeyed eyes and beheld his seriously handsome face with soft curls.

“On our first date, you told me that you were a poet,ˮ Bradley said. “But Angel, you have no idea how much of a star you are.ˮ

Lucy swallowed, tears beginning to balance on the line of her eyes.

“Donʼt you see how much gravity over people you have? How bright and beautiful you are? Iʼm the poet now Angel, and you are the sun.ˮ

“Bradley,ˮ Lucy whispered as he pressed his lips against hers. She loved how solid he was beneath her fingers — she could feel the strength reserved in his muscles and the warmth beneath his skin. She loved his coarse locks, the indents of his scars, and even the smell of his sweat. If she could be physically absorbed into this man, she would. They broke apart for air, lips numb and eyes glistening.

“This whole night...ˮ Lucy laughed. “Is just so... crazy...ˮ

“Crazy good?ˮ Bradley chuckled as he held her face in his big hands.

“Crazy good,ˮ she repeated.

“Itʼs a bit crazy too you know,ˮ he says. “That Mav happens to know your mom.ˮ

“Maverick is his call sign, right? Whatʼs his real name?ˮ

“Pete Mitchell.ˮ

Lucy was in her pajamas and her hair was wrapped in a towel as she dug a weathered, old box from her closet and set it by the floor of her bed. She swept the dust on the lid with a damp towel and opened the container. From it, she retrieved an old leather jacket, a couple of band shirts, some polaroids, a walkman, and some keys. Lucy jingled them fondly, before tucking it away expertly in her palm. She also fished some old journals and a bunch of old music compositions. At the very bottom of the box she, found a red biscuit tin with Chinese labeling. After popping it open with a bread knife because of all the rust that had accumulated in its rim, Lucy flipped through some old letters that she had read some years ago and finally saw what she had been looking for. It was a pair of aviators and on its side, a subtle inscription of the initials P.M.

She skimmed through the letters once more.

Dear Danger,

Love, Star

I miss you.

I love you.

Iʼm pregnant.

RETURN SENDER

Dear Star,

Love, Danger

...meet again.

new mission...

In love with you.

Miss you like crazy.

And just when Lucyʼs head was spinning from all these revelations, a patch fell on her lap — slipping after she had untucked a fold from another old letter. She had not seen it the last time she opened the tin box. It was as if it chose to reveal itself only in this moment. It was navy blue-colored rectangle, embroidered with bright red thread. It depicted wings with an anchor, and beneath it, something had been inscribed:

PETE MITCHELL

“MAVERICKˮ

Well— cat’s out of the bag 👀 Looks like we have a series of interesting events ahead of us, dear readers. The story is just beginning! See you at 11 | Dinner at Penny’s!

#rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun fic #top gun movie #bradley bradshaw imagine

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tangerinenotions95 · 1 year

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Always Been You - Chapter 2

Bradley is at a loss for words as he stares at her. He's always wondered about seeing you again, if you would even look at him. He sighed looking back towards the beer sitting in front of him. "I'm surprised you're even giving me the time of day" he said honestly.

It was quiet for a moment while you contemplated your reply. You nudged your elbow against his making him turn slightly to look at you, "I forgave you a long time ago Bradshaw" you winked a him, a genuine smile donning your face before you swiped the his bottle of beer and strolled away from him, back to the group fo friends you had came to the bar with.

Bradley watched you walk the whole way back to your table before shaking his head in amusement, comforted that you hadn't changed, not really. He pushed himself up off the bar and headed back to where the dagger squad were surrounding the pool table, pretending as if they hadn't watched the whole encounter.

"Rejected again Chicken?" Jake piped up as he lined up his next shot. Bradley just rolled his eyes, grabbed his keys off the table and headed to the door, meeting your eyes for just a second, before walking outside to his Bronco.

****

Y/N watched him leave, catching his eye just before he walked out the door. A part of her wanted to follow him, talk to him and get some answers at long last. The other, more sensible part of her, kept her seated at the table with her friends unsure whether it was the fear of getting close again or finally admitting that they weren't meant to be. So she stayed and sipped the beer she stole off of him, talking and laughing with the people around her who have been there for her these part couple of years.

About an hour later she finally stood gaining her friends attention, "I'm on the day shift tomorrow and need to get some sleep" she told them. "Do you want me to come?" Her room mate Nicole asked and Y/N shook her head with a smile, "Stay with Alisha and have fun, besides you are on the night shift this week". She walked away from the table send a smile and headed out into the cool San Diego night. Taking a deep breath you started to head for the towards the road and began walking home along the footpath.

The house she shared with Nicole was only about a 20 minute walk away, they had started out as residents at the hospital together, became friends and eventually moved in together. She was about five minutes into her walk when a horn sounded behind her. Turning around she saw a vehicle coming towards her and she couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face as she recognised it. The vehicle slowed down and came to a stop beside her as she crossed her arms over her chest in amusement.

"Need a ride?" Bradley asked after rolling down the window.

"Is this thing even road worthy? You've had it since you were sixteen?" She laughed in disbelief. "Hey, this 'thing' made sure you got to school every morning" He reminded her as they both laughed.

"I'm only a couple of minutes from the house"

He shrugged, "then it should take me no time at all to drive you". She studied his facing before finally giving in and reaching for the door handle. She grabbed the seatbelt from over her shoulder but it didn't budge.

"Ah shit sorry, it gets stuck, you have to"

"I got it" She told him pulling it the only way to make it work. She clicked it in, and turned to look at him, "I'm the one that broke it remember?" She reminded him and couldn't help notice the light blush that crossed his face as he remembered how it had happened causing her to giggle.

Bradley turned back to face the road, "Whoever thought car sex was romantic" he muttered as they began to head down the road and you couldn't help the loud laugh you let out at his comment, your laughing causing Bradley to do the same.

"God we really were idiots" you exclaimed, "That house there" you pointed to the small blue house on the corner of the street. Bradley slowed down, pulling up outside.

"Thanks" you said while unclicking the seatbelt, snorting as you did so. You opened the door and felt a hand on your arm before you had a chance to move. Turning around, you could see the guilt in his eyes as he tried to find the right words. Y/N could see the internal battle happening inside his head and placed a warm hand on top of his where he was hold her arm, "Do you want to come in and talk?"

"Please" he whispered sadly.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun rooster #top gun 2 #top gun maverick #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #maverick fanfic

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androphilestory · 4 months

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Under the vast Texan sky, where the horizon stretches endlessly, rodeo cowboy Jake McCord and state trooper Mike O'Riley forged an unbreakable bond. By day, they tirelessly patrolled the rugged borders of the Lone Star State, their dedication unwavering like the sun beating down on the vast plains. Jake, clad in dusty boots and a weathered hat, expertly tamed wild broncos in the rodeo arena, while Mike, donning the stern uniform of the law, ensured order prevailed along the vast highways.

Their evenings were a refuge at the Silver Spur Saloon, where laughter echoed against worn-out wooden walls. Beers clinked, and tales of daring exploits resonated in the dimly lit establishment. Jake, with a lasso at his side, spun yarns of his conquests in the rodeo ring, while Mike shared tales of chasing down outlaws and preserving the peace on the Texan frontier.

In the heart of the Lone Star State, their camaraderie blossomed, transcending the differences between the rodeo dust and the trooper's patrol car. The two friends, seemingly poles apart in their professions, found solace in the shared pursuit of justice and the unyielding spirit of Texas.

Their friendship, forged in the crucible of the Texan frontier, stood as a testament to the enduring spirit of the Lone Star State. In the dance of twilight, where the sky met the vastness of the land, Jake McCord and Mike O'Riley continued their journey, united by a friendship as unyielding as the Texas wind that swept across the plains.

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thekidsfromyestergay · 11 months

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Is Bert McCracken fucking the guy from don bronco

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mads-weasley · 2 years

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I posted 102 times in 2022

61 posts created (60%)

41 posts reblogged (40%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@softguarnere

@callsign-milano

@winchesterandpie

@sergeant-spoons

@agentjemmafitzsimmons

I tagged 50 of my posts in 2022

#mads' fandoms - 21 posts

#bradley bradshaw - 17 posts

#rooster bradshaw - 17 posts

#top gun maverick - 17 posts

#rooster x reader - 16 posts

#bradley bradshaw x you - 16 posts

#bradley bradshaw x reader - 16 posts

#bradley rooster bradshaw - 15 posts

#rooster top gun - 14 posts

#bradley bradshaw x y/n - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 80 characters

#yesterday i forgot the word 'lapse' and was literally writhing in agony about it

My Top Posts in 2022:

Without You

Steve Harrington x Reader

⚠️STRANGER THINGS SEASON 4: VOL 1 SPOILERS BELOW⚠️

Masterlist

A/N: I just finished the last season 4 episode that's been released and I'm obsessed! Can we just talk about how hot Steve looked this whole season? Especially him in the Upside Down with Eddie's cutoff jean jacket...thus why I chose this gif. I do not own any of these characters except (y/n)!

Summary: After Steve is dragged into the Upside-Down, his girlfriend doesn't hesitate diving in after him. She's willing to do whatever it takes to get him back home to safety, including hiding her own injuries from the group.

Warnings: mentions of blood, death, injuries, angst with fluff

(y/n) - your name

(y/l/n) - your last name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

"How long, Wheeler?"

"It's onl-" She started, but was interrupted by (y/n).

"Too long." The (y/h/c) stood up abruptly, taking off her socks and shoes while the others protested.

Robin shifted to keep the boat level. "Just give him a little bit longer! He's probably fine." She turned to Eddie. "He should be fine, right?"

"Well, realistically, he sh-"

"Eddie!" Nancy snapped, annoyed.

"I'm done waiting."

Just as (y/n) was about to jump in, Steve splashed up out of the water, scaring everyone in the boat.

"I found it." He announced, out of breath.

Nancy was the first to speak. "You found it?"

(Y/n) reached down, putting a hand on his that was clutching the boat. "Steve, are you okay?"

He simply smirked up at her. "Did I worry you, (y/l/n)?"

"Shut up. Are you okay? Really." She returned his smile.

"Yes, (y/n/n), I'm fine. It's pretty wild. It's more a snack-sized gate than a mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big."

Just as the words left his mouth, he was plunged underwater, knuckles white, barely hanging on to the boat. After a second, he came back up with a confused expression.

With worry etching her face, (y/n) reached for him again. "Steve? What was that?"

"I don-" he started but was pulled underwater again, and this time, he didn't come back up. Yelling instantly filled the boat and (y/n) wasted no time in jumping in after him.

"Steve!"

"(Y/n)! Wait!" Nancy tried, but it was too late. She was already swimming downward in the murky lake water. Her legs kicked as fast as they could as she tried not to think about the burning of her lungs and arms. The only thing she could think about was Steve. They had been through so much together and she was not about to lose him when they were so close to figuring everything out.

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1,458 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

Bradshaw Beach Days

Bradley Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is dedicated to my best friend, @savvysaucepacket! Thanks for always being my go-to about all my fanfiction ideas!!

Summary: On a day off, the Bradshaws spend a day at the beach, coming to a realization that will forever change their lives.

Warnings: shirtless bradley bradshaw, pure fluff, one suggestive line if you squint

(y/n) - your name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

mojo - your callsign

"Mojo, you ready?" Bradley called, packing their beach stuff into his Bronco.

Slipping her cover-up over her royal blue bikini, she grabbed a book and threw it in her beach bag, closing the door behind her. "Yes, sir."

The couple climbed in the car, blaring the Beach Boys with the windows down all the way to the beach. Bradley often found himself staring at his beautiful wife as she sang along to Kokomo, hair blowing wildly in the wind. It was rare for both of them to get a day off, so when it did happen, they would haul down to the beach and spend the whole day there, just soaking up the sun and each other's company.

Getting to the beach, (y/n) slipped off her cover-up and tied her hair into a messy bun. Bradley slid his aviators further down on his nose at the sight.

"You are looking mighty fine, Mrs. Bradshaw." he drawled, walking over and pecking her on the lips.

"Have you seen yourself? You," she looked him up and down, leaning closer to him, "look like the sexiest man alive."

He rolled his eyes, laughing. "That was so cheesy."

"I know." (Y/n) whispered, kissing him again.

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2,129 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Hold My Hand: Part One

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Pilot!Reader

Masterlist

| Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

A/N: I saw Top Gun: Maverick, and the only thing I can say is that my mind is completely blown. WOW. I don't know if I've seen a better movie, and that's saying something. Also, MILES TELLER WITH A MUSTACHE, WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT, AM I RIGHT? Anyways, this fic was born out of my instant obsession with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. I do not own any of these characters except (y/n). Enjoy!

Summary: (Y/n) and Bradley share their last night before the mission together...

Warnings: mentions of death, extreme sadness, slight fluff, idk?

(y/h/c) - your hair color

(y/e/c) - your eye color

italics - flashbacks

"hen" - your callsign

Tomorrow is the day. The day of the mission. The day they could lose everything. As (y/n) and Bradley walked out of the base to their car, silence filled the air. Normally, the couple would rarely shut up while around the other, but they knew the risks involved with the upcoming mission. The life they had built together was now in jeopardy.

Bradley gently intertwined his hand with (Y/n)'s over the middle console of his truck, knowing she needed something to pull her from her thoughts. After being married for two years, he knew how to get her out of her own head.

"Hey, babe, what do you want for dinner? You can choose and I won't even complain," he said with a smirk, turning to look at her briefly.

A small smile of her own painted her face, making his heart flutter. After all the years they'd spent together, she never failed to give him butterflies.

"No complaining?" she laughed, "I'll believe that when I see it, rooster."

His hand flew to his chest, feigning offense, "I promise you, Mrs. Bradshaw. On my pilot's honor."

"Sure, sure."

"What are we having, though? Cause I'm starving."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes as they pulled into their driveway. "You'll just have to wait and see."

With a small whine, he turned to see her getting out of the truck.

"(Y/n/n), come on. I'm serious."

"So am I," she whispered, leaning into the window before entering the house with a smile.

Watching her figure disappear into the house, he couldn't help but think back to the first time he saw her.

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2,214 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

Coming Home to You

Bradley Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Just a small Rooster blurb for ya! Sorry it's so short lol!

Summary: Bradley comes home from a long mission and runs straight into his wife's loving arms.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff

Stepping off the plane, Bradley breathed in the fresh Californian air, happy to finally be home. He had been called on an overseas mission that was supposed to last a week but turned into a month. Due to the top-secret nature of the mission, the aviators weren't allowed any contact with their loved ones. This rule is what always shredded the couple to pieces. They were together almost 24/7 and talked constantly, so cutting off all communication was very difficult for both of them.

It was hard for (y/n) to come home to an empty house after a long day at work. She'd grown so accustomed to Bradley getting there a few minutes after she did, and now, she would just stare at the door. having to remind herself that he wasn't going to walk through it. As a week stretched into a month, she grew more and more anxious about Bradley's safety. Of course, every time he went on a mission, she was sick to her stomach with worry, but she had learned that the longer the mission, the more dangerous the mission was.

When she got the call from the base, her eyes welled with tears, immediately fearing the worst, but she sighed in relief when they said he was finally coming home.

Quickly driving to the base, she hurried to the fence outside the airstrip where families were told to wait. She watched as pilots started coming out of the plane and down the steps toward their loved ones. The second she saw a familiar head of brown hair and mustache, a beaming smile grew on her face as they made eye contact. Even though he had his aviators on, she could tell he saw her by the way his demeanor changed. Quickly descending the steps, he ran, bag in hand, towards his (y/n), who jumped the fence, not caring about protocol. She threw her arms wide with a smile, running to meet him halfway.

Bradley dropped his bag before wrapping his arms around (y/n)'s waist, her arms slinging around his shoulders as their lips collided. Pulling back slightly, Bradley scanned her face with a smile, kissing her again. Out of breath, they leaned their heads together.

"I've missed you, Bradshaw," she whispered, leaning against his chest as she hugged him tightly.

He leaned down and kissed her temple, squeezing her tighter. "I've missed you too, Bradshaw."

As the two shared a moment, Mav looked on from afar, unable to break his stare. The couple reminded him so much of Goose and Carole that his heart ached just watching them. He was broken from his trance when he heard Penny calling for him. With a sigh and a teary smile, he looked back at the couple one last time before going over to her, whispering to himself.

"You'd be proud, Goose."

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2,260 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Little Hen

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

A/N: I'm obsessed...there's nothing left to say. I don't own any of these wonderful characters except (y/n). Enjoy!

Summary: Rooster takes his little hen to The Hard Deck to make memories like he did with his father

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like your teeth are gone...

(y/n) - your name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

(Y/n) sighed through the phone, stuck at work for another hour. "Bradley, are you sure it's a good idea to take her there? It is a bar after all."

"Yes, babe. Some of my favorite memories with my father were made at a bar."

She knew this meant a lot to him, especially how he lost his own father not long after those memories were made. He'd told her about his fear that he'd be killed before their daughter, Carole, even remembered him. She was now 4 and was just like he was as a kid.

She was adventurous, competitive, and most of all, a complete daddy's girl. The 4-year-old had Rooster Bradshaw wrapped around her tiny little finger. If she wanted a stuffed animal, he got it, and when she asked for a Hawaiian shirt to match him, (y/n) could've sworn she'd never seen him order something so fast.

Bradley had also formed the habit of calling Carole, "Little Hen" after her mom, whose callsign was Hen.

"Okay little hen," Rooster said getting her out of her car seat, "do you want to meet some of daddy's friends?"

She threw her little arms around his neck as he held her. "What about mommy? She's your friend."

He chuckled, swinging her around in a circle. "Mommy is my best friend, but I have other friends too."

"Whoa, Daddy. I'm dizzy." She announced, leaning far back away from him.

"Don't worry, hen, Daddy's got ya." With a content sigh and a bright smile, he kissed her cheek and opened the doors of The Hard Deck.

The room erupted into cheers when the pair walked in the doors. Jake, AKA Hangman, was the first to come over to the pair.

"Hangie!" She yelled, leaning towards him, her little arms extended.

Rooster handed her to Jake with a smile. "Hey, kid! Have you been listening to your mom and dad?"

She shook her head, glancing over at her dad, who was just watching the interaction. "Nope."

Jake burst into laughter, tickling her as she joined in with her own giggles. Rooster's heart was about to explode with love at the sight of his beautiful daughter. The only person missing from this moment was (y/n). She got caught up at work and couldn't join them for the movie night they had planned, so they decided to have a Rooster and Little hen night. He's brought out of his thoughts by Carole calling him.

"Daddy! Jake wants you to play!" she said, full of excitement.

With a sigh, he took off his aviators and gently placed them on her face as he walked towards the piano. The glasses were way too big on her, so they were slanted to one side, and they looked so cute. Bradley took her from Hangman and placed her on top of the piano. He stretched his hands slightly before playing.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain." he sang, looking goofily at Carole. "Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, oh what a thrill."

Carole somewhat knew this part, so she sang along with everyone else.

"Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!"

Her laughter echoed across the bar, lifting everyone's spirits even more than her dad's playing did.

"I laughed at love cause I thought it was funny, you came along and you moved me, honey. I changed my mind, looking fine."

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3,440 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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brookstonalmanac · 1 year

Text

Birthdays 4.13

Beer Birthdays

Joseph Bramah (1748)

Albert C. Houghton (1844)

George Gund II (1888)

Julie Bradford Johnson (1953)

Ray McCoy (1960)

Andreas Fält (1971)

Five Favorite Birthdays

Don Adams; actor (1923)

Peter Davison; actor, "Dr. Who" (1951)

James Ensor; Belgian artist (1860)

Al Green; R&B singer (1946)

Thomas Jefferson; 3rd U.S. President (1743)

Famous Birthdays

Lyle Alzado; Denver Broncos DE, actor (1949)

Samuel Beckett; Irish writer (1906)

Lou Bega; pop musician (1975)

Peabo Bryson; pop singer (1951)

Alfred Butts; Scrabble game creator (1899)

Jack Casady; rock bassist (1944)

Teddy Charles; jazz vibraphonist (1928)

Bill Conti; composer (1942)

Jana Cova; Czech porn actor, model (1980)

Erich von Daniken; writer (1935)

Stanley Donen; film director (1924)

Tony Dow; actor (1945)

William Henry Drummond; Canadian poet (1854)

Guy Fawkes; English conspirator (1570)

Edward Fox; actor (1937)

Bud Freeman; jazz saxophonist (1906)

Amy Goodman; journalist, writer (1957)

Dan Gurney; auto racer (1931)

Jeanne Guyon; French mystic, founder of Quietism (1648)

Seamus Heaney; poet (1939)

Garry Kasparov; chess player (1963)

Howard Keel; actor (1919)

Davis Love III; golfer (1964)

Ron Perlman; actor (1950)

Philippe de Rothschild; French winemaker (1902)

Rick Schroder; actor (1970)

Paul Sorvino; actor (1939)

Jon Stone; Sesame Street co-creator (1931)

Lyle Waggoner; actor (1935)

Max Weinberg; drummer (1951)

Eudora Welty; writer (1909)

F.W. Woolworth; merchant, 5&10 cent store creator (1852)

#Birthdays

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

love and loss

Note: Having just lost someone in my own family, I really wrote this as a self-indulgent and cathartic piece to unwind after the emotional toll of the past few days. But I hope that it can also be meaningful to those of you who have lost someone you love.

Warnings: Mentions of death, wakes, funerals, and grief.

The pain of loss was something that Bradley knew all too well. Grief had been following him around like an old friend for as long as he could remember, and as unwelcome as it may have been, he had learned to live with it. But he never wanted it to touch you. No, grief was one friend he had no desire to introduce you to.

So when you got off the phone with your mom one morning and came to him with tears streaming down your cheeks, and that look in your eyes that he’d seen reflected in his own gaze so many times throughout the years, he mourned the fact that for the first time since you’d come blazing into his life all those many months ago, grief had finally caught you in its snare.

He held you in his arms all that day and let you cry, swallowing back the platitudes that he knew offered no real comfort despite people’s best intentions. He’d heard them all, and he knew that ultimately they would do nothing to close the hole that had suddenly opened up inside your heart. So instead he encouraged you to let the tears flow until they could flow no more, to be sad when you felt sad and to be angry when you felt angry. He encouraged you to just be, knowing that grief, that tricky bastard, found so many ways to manifest itself.

And when the dust cleared and the arrangements were settled, he donned his best suit and stood by your side through every difficult minute.

Bradley hated wakes. He always had, ever since he was a boy. It probably had something to do with the memory of his father’s wake. His father—just twenty-four years old with so much life left to live—laid out in his dress whites while his mother wailed in agony beside the casket, her grief unable to be contained as Mav, Ice, Slider, and all his other uncles attempted to hold her up.

His mother’s wake wasn’t any better. At just seventeen years old, he stood beside her casket, dazed and confused as person after person came up to offer him their condolences and kind words about the beautiful Carole Bradshaw. But he couldn’t hear any of them past the buzzing in his ears, or the realization that his tie was crooked because his mom wasn’t there to straighten it for him anymore.

He hated wakes. They made his palms sweat, his heart race, his stomach flip. He’d rather fly the world’s most dangerous mission than have to attend one. But for you, he was there in a heartbeat. He picked you up in the Bronco and stayed by your side through that whole exhausting day, not wanting you to have to be alone for one moment.

“This is my boyfriend, Bradley,” you introduced him to the neighbors, friends, and distant family members in attendance, gazing up at him as he shook hands and smiled and exchanged pleasantries.

The look of pride on your face made any uncomfortable, awkward moments more than worth it.

His hand rested on your lower back all day, there as a sign of support when you needed it. He rubbed soothing circles on it when your words got choked off by tears or when you cried silently and struggled to compose yourself.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered softly in your ear, holding you close as he slipped more tissues into your hand.

When it all became too much, he walked you outside for some fresh air, and then slipped his hand comfortingly into yours when you told him you were ready to go back inside.

The day of the funeral, he stood like a pillar of strength beside you. He knew, probably better than most, how the finality of death could hit you like a ton of bricks as you laid the people you loved most to their place of rest, and he wanted you to know that he would always be there for you to lean on.

He watched you, his heart breaking as you slipped your dark sunglasses on and clutched a white rose in your hand under the warm spring sun, surrounded by the tombs of those who had gone before. He thought of his own parents’ grave back in Virginia as you squeezed his hand tightly and dropped your rose into the open earth below. He squeezed back, wanting to give you every last drop of strength that he possessed.

As you all climbed back into the limos—Bradley had sworn he could take the Bronco, not feeling like he deserved to ride in the limos with you and your family, but you had insisted—he held you close as you rested your head on his shoulder, gently running his hand up and down your leg in soothing strokes.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur—a luncheon where you and your family smiled through your tears and shared stories that made everyone laugh and remember the good times instead of the sad times. They made Bradley smile, too, as he recalled his own happy memories with his mother and father and everyone else he had loved and lost.

Grief wasn’t going to have the last word today.

When you and Bradley finally arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, he watched as you immediately slipped out of your black dress and changed into a tank top and a comfy pair of shorts, then slipped off his suit jacket and pressed a kiss to his lips, telling him to change as well. It was a good thing that he now had his own drawer at your place.

The two of you curled up together on the couch, much like you had that day when you’d first received the news from your mom, and held each other in comfortable silence, Bradley brushing his lips against the top of your head.

He had been foolish to think that grief would never touch you. It already had, countless times in the years before you’d met, and it would undoubtedly come back to pay you a visit again, much as Bradley wanted to protect you from it at all costs. But as hopeless as it was to think that the pain of loss would somehow evade you all the days of your life, he did have hope after seeing the grace and dignity with which you handled your grief. If anything, he was even more amazed by you, even more in love with you.

Grief was the unwelcome friend that came for everyone, but it didn’t have to have the final word. It didn’t have to win.

As if you could somehow read his thoughts, which he was half-convinced you could, you tilted your head back and looked up at him, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Thank you so much for everything these past few days, baby. I love you so much,” you murmured softly.

“I love you, too, honey,” Bradley told you, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m always going to be here for you. Always.”

Loss might be inevitable. Pain might be inevitable. Grief might be inevitable. But Bradley Bradshaw swore in that moment that he was never going to leave you to face any of them alone.

Because if he’d learned anything over the course of his own years of loss and pain and grief, it was that love was stronger than all of them.

#bradshaw drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #miles teller

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