#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine

[make-me-imagine]

About Damn Time

Plot: Rooster is head over heels for Y/n, Y/n has feelings for Rooster, but is oblivious to his, and Phoenix is tired of it.

Prompt: "Did you just tell the person I was gonna go out with that we're dating?" Requested By: @witchygagirl

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x GN!Reader *Readers call sign is Shade

Warnings: Mild cursing. Mentions of "drinks" but it's never specifically stated as alcohol.

Words: 2.5k

-

Phoenix was barely listening to what was being said as she looked over your shoulder towards the pool table. As you laughed at something Penny said when she dropped off your drinks, she saw Roosters eyes shoot over, landing on you. His lips quirked up as he watched you for a minute, before slowly taring his eyes away.

Phoenix rolled her eyes softly as she looked back at you. "Hey, Rooster's been giving you eyes for the whole night, why don't you go talk to him."

You looked over at Rooster before smiling softly and shaking your head with a soft scoff "Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious Shade, I've never seen someone stare so much. And I know you like him, what's the harm?"

"The harm? What if you misinterpreted it, and he doesn't like me and I humiliate myself? You know Rooster, he is not shy, he is forward, if he had a thing for me he would have told me by now."

She let out a sigh as she watched you play with your straw as you glanced over at Rooster.

'Come on Rooster, look over here.' Phoenix thought desperately. If you two caught eyes in this moment maybe something would click.

When you looked back to your drink, and Rooster didn't look back, Phoenix lowered her head in disappointment. You had every right to be cautious, but damn was she getting tired of you two not sharing how you felt, when you clearly felt the same way about each other.

Looking around the bar, Phoenix's eyes caught on another man, someone she didn't not recognize, who's eyes seemed to be locked on you. Phoenix glanced back over at Rooster as an idea formed in her head. Maybe it's time someone push the pieces around a bit.

"Well, if you are so convinced Rooster isn't interested, then why aren't you in a relationship?"

You eyed her "You know it's not that easy Phoenix."

"Well, maybe if you looked around a bit more, you'd see that tall drink of water undressing you with his eyes."

She almost laughed when she saw your whole body seize up, you side-eyed her "Oh God, where?"

Nudging her head towards the guy, you nonchalantly looked over your shoulder to see a man watching you from the bar. You turned back around and shrugged a little "He's pretty handsome."

"Yeah, and clearly interested, so why don't you go say hello."

You met her gaze and she smiled bigger. You let out a soft laugh "You are such an instigator!"

"No, I'm a damn good wing woman."

"Well you clearly overestimate my confidence in going up to strangers."

Phoenix looked down at her drink before finishing it off "Uh-oh, looks like I could use another drink." She looked over at the bar with clear exaggeration "Damn, looks like Penny's busy, maybe someone should go get me another drink."

You shook your head softly with a smile "But I'm not done with mine yet."

Grabbing your drink, she poured the rest into her own glass "You are now."

You stared at her with an agape stare as you let out an incredulous laugh "You are ridiculous."

She grinned, and you looked over at the bar, seeing that Penny was too busy to see the two of you. You let out a sigh "Fine, but if this goes wrong, it's your fault."

As you began to slowly weave your way through the crowd and toward the bar, Phoenix slid from her seat and made her way toward the pool tables.

As Phoenix leaned against the table beside Rooster, he glanced over at her before looking past her, clearly for you. "Where'd Y/n get off too?"

She repressed a smile "Oh, just getting some more drinks. But-" she looked over towards the bar "They might get delayed."

Rooster frowned a bit as he followed Phoenix's line of sight. As soon as his eyes fell to you, and the guy sitting beside you, Rooster felt his chest clench. You were smiling, clearly enjoying the mans company as he talked to you. When you chuckled at something he said Rooster felt a surge of jealousy.

"Wow. If looks could kill." Phoenix muttered.

Rooster looked down at her and then back towards the pool tables "What does that mean?"

"It means you're jealous. What's the point in denying it to me Rooster? I see the way you look at Shade."

"Yeah? How do I look at 'em?"

"Like they're a rainbow in a cloudy sky."

Rooster almost laughed "I never knew you to be so poetic."

She smiled and shook her head "Just admit it Rooster, you are head over heels for them, but you are too afraid to do anything about it."

"I'm not afraid."

Then why haven't you done anything yet?"

Rooster looked back towards you and let out a sigh "Because why would they have me when they could have him?"

Phoenix rolled her eyes "Because Shade doesn't want him, they want you. They have for a long time, but both of you are too blind to see each others obvious feelings."

Rooster seemed to think over what she said before he spoke uncertainly "Y/n likes me?"

Phoenix nodded her head in an exaggerated way "Yes, a lot. And it's now or never, because if you don't do anything, you might lose the chance forever."

--- ---

As Penny set down your drinks in front of you, you glanced over at the man you had been talking too. He was clearly interested in you, and was not afraid to show it.

You kept the conversation casual, but he flirted nonstop, and you had to admit, it was a bit much. He was laying in on a bit thick, and you weren't sure you wanted this conversation to go any further.

"So, what do you say we get out of here and go somewhere more private?"

You felt your heart jump a bit. "More private like what?" You challenged, and could tell he spotted you retreating.

"Maybe go get a nice dinner, get out of this place, it's too loud, too crowded."

'Nice save' you thought as you smiled. "I'll tell you what, let me go take these drinks back over to my friend and I'll think it over."

He nodded with a grin, clearly expecting you to come back. You grabbed Phoenix's drink and made your way back to your table.

As you approached, you saw Phoenix grinning at you expectantly. "So, how'd it go? I saw a lot of smiles."

You shrugged a bit "He's a bit intense. And, he just asked me if I wanted to get out of here." You saw mild shock cross her face "To a nice restaurant to be more alone." You added on, but it was clear in your tone, you did not believe that was his intention.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Honestly, probably say no, he's not my type, not really."

Phoenix hummed "Could be a nice way to make Rooster jealous." Her eyes passed over your shoulder again as she saw Rooster sit beside the buy, appearing to order a drink, but she knew better.

You rolled our eyes softly "Yeah right, I'm sure he cares."

"Well he seemed pretty jealous when he saw you getting chatted up."

You looked over at her with clear interest "He did?"

She smiled a bit and nodded her head towards the bar again "Clearly."

You looked back over towards the bar and felt your heart jump as you saw Rooster talking to the guy, a forced smile on his face you recognized as him hiding clear annoyance. What was he doing?

---

As Rooster came and sat next to the man, he spared no time as he looked over at him and nodded his head in greeting "Hey man."

The man nodded his head in return, clearly uninterested in talking.

"I don't mean to impose, or assume, but I saw you talking to my partner, and just wanted to warn you off. Before things got out of hand."

The man stared at him for a moment "Your partner?"

Rooster nodded once and the man smiled "Didn't seem like they were taken, in fact I thought they were about to come say yes to going out to dinner with me."

Rooster looked around with mild exaggeration "Where are they then?"

The man frowned a bit and Rooster smiled "No hard feelings man, but they're a bit shy in these kinds of situations, probably just wanted to avoid an awkward conversation. I don't think they'll be coming back, and I don't think you should either."

The man was about to retaliate before he thought better of it. Tapping the bar top with his card to close out his tab, he looked back over at Rooster "You might want to tighten their leash if you're worried about someone like me."

Roosters face dropped as he stared hard at the man "Careful how you talk about them."

The man clearly regretted his comment before he quickly took his card back from Penny and began to leave. As he waded through a group of people, you almost collided with him.

He looked down at you and gave you a smile, close to a sneer "At least your boyfriend didn't leave me waiting around for you to come back."

You watched him in confusion as he brushed past you and left the bar. Looking back towards the bar, you saw Rooster quickly look away, as if attempting to act normal.

Your heart was pounding, and your face was hot as you made your way towards the bar. Sitting in the seat beside Rooster, you cleared your throat.

He looked down at you and feigned surprise as he grinned "Y/n, how are you?"

You rose one brow as you stared at him "Oh I'm just dandy. Hey, quick question, did you just tell the person I was gonna go out with that we're dating?"

Rooster rose his brow as if in confusion, you mocked the look, and he failed to hold back a grin. "I thought I was doing you a favor."

"Oh yeah, what favor was that?"

"Getting you out of a date with that douche bag."

"You know him?"

"Well, no, but he seemed like a asshole."

"I think that's up to me to decide, don't you? Beside's since when do you care who I date?"

Rooster looked down at his hands and then over at you, his gaze more serious now "I care since it's not me you're dating."

You felt your ears begin to burn as your stomach filled with butterflies. "What does that mean?" You asked, your voice softer.

A faint smile crossed his face for a moment "I guess Phoenix was right huh? You never noticed how I felt?" He let out a soft scoff "Jesus Y/n I'm crazy about you."

You were afraid your surprise and sudden flustered emotions were obvious as you stared at him for a moment. Looking down at your hands you cleared your throat a bit before you looked back up at him.

He smiled softly as he watched you, you had clearly gotten flustered and overwhelmed over his sudden admission. He thought it was adorable.

"I thought if you actually felt something for me you'd tell me earlier." You admitted.

His smile faded a bit "Yeah, I guess I'm usually pretty forward huh?"

You nodded softly, and he turned a bit more toward you, he moved his hand across the bar, so it was pressed against yours. You watched as he gently brushed his fingers over yours.

You met his eyes and he smiled softly "I was afraid I might scare you off if I was too forward." He leaned in a little closer, and spoke softly, so only you could hear him "But I always wanted to be around you, I even seek you out sometimes. I didn't lose my sunglasses in the hangar the other day, I just wanted to come see you 'cause I knew you were in there. We didn't get paired together for the exercises by chance, I requested we get partnered." He could see realization coming over you as your smile slowly grew. "I adore you Y/n."

Looking down as your feet out of sudden shyness, you shook your head "I should have paid more attention, but I was always trying to act normal around you." You looked up and met his eyes "I always felt nervous around you because of how I felt."

His smile grew as he squeezed your hand lightly "Are you nervous now?"

You shook your head as you let out a soft giggle "That's not the right word for what I'm feeling, no."

"What would be a better word?"

You met his eye as you thought for a moment. You shrugged a little "Happy? Surprised? Excited?" You chucked.

His grin grew "Then we're on the same page, finally."

"Finally." You repeated "I guess I should apologize to Phoenix for never believing her either. I always thought she was just trying to play match maker because she was tired of seeing me ogle over you."

He let out a laugh "You ogled over me?"

"Her words not mine." You defended with a laugh.

"That's okay, I don't mind being ogled at. I know I ogled over you my fair share."

"Okay, that might be too forward." You joked.

"Sorry, sorry."

Noticing that his hand was now fully wrapped in yours, you felt more butterflies. Meeting his eyes again, you now finally saw the look that Phoenix always said he had when he looked at you. You felt stupid for never paying more attention, for never believing her, but at least now you knew, at least now you could cherish being seen the same way you see him.

Rooster cleared his throat a little "So, you weren't, really, going to go out with that guy were you?"

You let out a soft chuckle as you shook your head "No, I wasn't."

He nodded and let out a breath "Good, good. Because he was definitely an asshole."

You lowered your head in defeat as you laughed, shaking your head. You let out a sigh "Yeah, he probably was."

Rooster grinned at you "I could show you a better time than he could anyways."

You rose one brow "Yeah? Prove it."

His grin widened as he suddenly stood, letting go of your hand, but reaching out for you to take it again "Challenge accepted."

Placing your hand in his again, he began to lead you out of the bar. You felt excitement course through you as you wondered what you just got yourself into. Rooster's idea of a date could be anything from mini-golf to sky diving. But you didn't really care, because it was him, finally.

Phoenix grinned to herself as she watched you and Rooster leave hand in hand, grins on your faces.

"Its about damn time."

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal

#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster #three brain cells and they all belong to Phoenix #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun: maverick #tg:m #rooster/reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw/reader #top gun x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x y/n #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x gn!reader #fluff #oblivious love #idiots to lovers #top gun imagine #rooster imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #top gun fic #rooster fic #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw fic #oneshot #one shot #top gun maverick imagine

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

Never There (REUPLOADED)

Author’s note: it’s... been a while since I’ve written anything, I wrote a lot of hockey imagines back in the day and haven’t posted anything in a handful of years, but I recently watched Top Gun Maverick for the first time and this came to me as I was falling asleep one night and I just needed to get out. 

Prompt: “you were never there for me when I wanted you to be there, they were.”

Pairing: Bradley x f!Reader, slight Bob x f!Reader if you squint; no use of Y/N, only body description is curvy

warning: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of lingerie

not dialogue heavy

REUPLOADED

Words: 2.5k

-----------

You and Bradley grew up together. Your mom’s were best friends, you two had been born only months apart from each other, and when Bradley’s dad passed away, it was a no-brainer that your mom would take Carole and Bradley in. 

Growing up your mom’s always had the idea that you and Bradley would end up together, so when you two started dating they were over the moon. You two were already inseparable, add romance to the mix and you two became unbearable to all of your friends, he was your first everything; first love, first kiss, first time, and later on, first heartbreak.

When Carole passed away it was hard for Bradley. To be so young and to have already lost both your parents before becoming an adult yourself is no easy feat. Unfortunately, your mom followed soon after Carole. Your dad was no longer in the picture, so leaving the only place you had ever called home was easy to do. 

You followed Bradley to University of Virginia after you graduated high school, he studied political science and you took undergrad courses that would later allow you to get into veterinary medicine, something that you had felt called to do your whole life, just like he felt a call to the Navy. 

You’ll never forget when he came home, seething angry about how his godfather pulled his papers into the naval academy. You were there for him while he cried in frustration and cursed Pete “Maverick” Mitchell’s name. 

You were there for his college graduation, proudly cheering for him from the audience as he got his political science degree. He had a massive smile on his face as he realized he was finally able to focus on getting into the Navy. Which he did, later that summer after he graduated. 

When it came time for you to graduate with a general science degree, he was nowhere to be seen. The seat that he should have been sitting in was empty and cold, and you returned home to a dark apartment later that evening. It was after midnight when he finally made his appearance, stumbling into the unit you two shared after a night out with a few guys he had met at the naval academy who happened to be in town. You just smiled and told him it was okay before tucking him into bed. 

When he graduated from the naval academy, you were there for his tapping out ceremony. He reminded you everyday in the week leading up to it so you wouldn’t forget, not like it mattered though because you couldn’t wait to see him doing what he wanted to do. 

You put your career on hold while he was away at Top Gun, you would bartend while he would sit at the bar so you could spend time together, that was before he met a solid group of fellow aviators who became his friends, and in turn yours. 

You applied to University of California, Davis for their veterinary program and ended up being accepted into the program on your first application. You were over the moon, but when you called him he left you with a “that’s great baby, but I’m out with the guys right now. Love you” before hanging up and you sighed, knowing he was stressed and this was an easy way for him to blow off some steam. 

You met the special detachment a few weeks before your white coat ceremony at UC Davis, connecting instantly with all of them and they were all excited for you to attend the veterinary program. There were promises of them attending the white coat ceremony so you got tickets for the six of them, plus Bradley. 

You texted all of them in a group chat about what time the ceremony started and they all assured you that they would be there, but when your name got called, only Bob was seated in the middle of six empty chairs. Your heart sank but you kept your smile as you got your white coat.

“Well, look at you.” Bob says in his Montanan accent and you smile as he wraps his arms around you. “You look great, future dog-ter.” 

You laugh and choke back the tears, “Thanks Bobby, it means a lot.” you give him a small smile and he rubs your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” he says and you shrug, not worth dwelling on the rest of the team not being there.

He takes you out to dinner and despite only knowing each other for a few weeks, it felt easy talking to him. You opened up to him about your dad never being there, your mom raising you alongside Bradley with Carole. You tell him about your childhood dog Harley and how your grandparents had a couple of horses in the mountains that you used to ride. He told you about his sisters, what life was like in rural Montana, and how he couldn’t wait to go back and see his family even if it meant doing some chores around the farm. When he smiled at you over a shared piece of tiramisu, you knew you were done for.

You kept your secret for the next four years, every important event in your life, you counted on Bradley not to show up, but Bob was always there to take you out for dinner afterwards, an unspoken tradition. 

You had many fights with Bradley during those four years, each fight led you to spend the night at Bob’s and overtime he fell for you too. Slowly, then all at once when you ended up on his doorstep crying for the third time this month already.

“Sweetheart..” he breathes out as you barely into his chest and sob. He pulls you inside and shuts and locks his door before walking over to the couch, “do you want to talk about it?” he asks and you just shake your head no.

“Brad and I broke up.” you sob out and he holds you a little tighter.

Two days ago, you graduated with your PhD in veterinary medicine. You had done it, you officially became a doctor. You had invited everyone to the ceremony, Bradley, Bob, Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, even Maverick and Penny were invited to the graduation ceremony. You told all of them and circled the time that you were graduating since there were two times listed for the building your ceremony was held. You were in the 1-4pm time slot and you even texted everyone the day of the ceremony that you would see time in a few hours at 1pm before you had to line up. When Bob is the only one standing there you’re a little discouraged but he told you not to worry, and that the rest of the gang would be there soon, he was just early. You smiled and talked with him for a bit before being called to line up. He gives you a hug and a kiss on the head, making you both blush before he goes and finds his seat. 

After the ceremony, however, your heart sank deep into the depths of your stomach and he shakes his head, “I am so sorry, sweetheart..” and you just shake your head.

“Don’t. I don’t want to cry right now.” you say and he smiles before taking your phone from you and holding it out so he can take some pictures of you two. A friend of yours from the program offers to ‘take a few pictures of you and your boyfriend’ and before you can correct her, Bob passes your phone with a smile and wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him and kisses your temple. The gesture takes you by surprise and your friend captures your genuine reaction to it with a smile before handing your phone back to you before walking away.

“Ready to go get dinner?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No, can we go to the Hard Deck?” you ask, knowing that that’s where you’ll find everyone else. He just nods and takes your hand, butterflies appear where there was previously a hot coal of disappointment. Bob drove back to the airport where a charter flight was waiting to take you back to San Diego. On the flight back, you look through your photo album, realizing way too quickly that you had more photos of you and Bob over the years than you ever did you and Bradley. 

You drafted up an instagram post, waiting to publish it after you landed. You selected the picture that your friend took as well as a selfie that Bob took. Finally a dog-ter, thanks bobby for being the best of the best you caption the post and tag Bob in the post. 

You hit post when the plane touches down, it was a short flight thank god, and before you know it you're busting through the doors of the Hard Deck. 

“Bradley Bradshaw.” you spit when you see him standing a little too close to Phoenix.

“Wha-” he starts when he sees you walking up to him and you slap him across the face. “What the fuck is your problem?” he nearly yells, grabbing the whole attention of the bar. 

“You are.” you spit out before looking at the rest of the group. “You know, the one time I care about you all showing up for me, and being there for me, was today. I never asked for anything and I forgave all of you every other time that y’all bailed on plans. My white coat ceremony? That’s fine, it wasn’t too big of a deal.” You turn and look at Bradley, “my graduation from UVA? You weren’t there. You weren’t at my high school graduation, you didn’t come back for my senior prom either. You come home late most nights and are gone before I wake up.. It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore Brad..” you say before turning to leave. “And, you two? You’re adults who have been like my parents for the last five years, and not even you could show up for my doctorate graduation?” you just shake your head and leave everyone staring at each other, the bar quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop in the kitchen. You walk out to Bob’s car and lean against it and let out a sob, jumping when you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s just me.. Do you want to come back to mine?” Bob asks and you shake your head no.

“Can you take me back to mine? I think I’m gonna pack some stuff up… I can’t do this anymore Bob.. I want to go back home.” you choke out and he nods his head, opening the passenger door up for you and you waste no time sitting down in the seat. He shuts the door behind you and walks to the driver’s side. Once inside he looks at you and places a gentle hand on your leg that doesn’t move until you get out of his car in your driveway. 

“Thank you.” you say and he looks over at you with a small smile.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, darlin’.” He says and before you can change your mind, you lean across the center console of his FJ and kiss him softly. 

“I do, though.” you say before getting out of the car and into the apartment that you share with Brad. When you hear Bob pull away you look around the living room, seeing more of Brad’s achievements around the area than any of yours. 

Packing is easy, you already had a few things squared away and in the back of your jeep, knowing that Bradley would never care enough to check your car for anything. You were in the process of finishing on clearing out your closet when you found a lingerie set that isn’t yours. The biggest giveaways are that it’s too slim for your curvy figure, it’s lace, and it’s a deep shade of pink. You only wore red or black when the mood struck and never any lace. The fact that your boyfriend was sleeping with someone else, in your own bed, just made you sick. You continued packing, quicker now that you found the lingerie. 

You were coming back in from taking the last suitcase out to your car when Bradley pulled into the driveway. "What are you doing?" he asks and you look over at him.

"What do you mean 'what are you doing?' Bradley? I'm fucking done." you say as you walk into the bedroom to grab the lace one piece. 

"You're leaving?" he asks, voice booming in the unit. 

"Yeah! I'm fucking leaving, Bradley! I'm tired of not being important enough for you anymore!" your voice echoes in the hall as you stomp back to here he his, shoving the garment at his chest, "we're fucking done." 

He pales when he looks at what you slapped against him "Baby I-"

"Don't. Don't you fucking 'baby' me, Bradley. You were never there for me and now I understand why. How long have you been fucking her?"

"I'm not fucking Phoenix. How long have you been fucking Bob?" he spits, throwing the lace on the floor.

"I never said a name." you say, eyes full of unshed tears and he pales when he realizes his mistake. "I understand that I went to school eight hours away, you don't think that wasn't hard for me? Obviously it was easy for you when you had your fucking wingman in our bed! Is that why there's no trace of me, of us, anywhere in this apartment? There's no more pictures of us on the wall, just your stuff in the bathroom.. I'm tired of living like a stranger in my own fucking home!"

He tries to take a step closer but you take two steps back. "How long?" you ask, refusing to look at him.

"How long what?"

"How long since you stopped loving me?" you say, voice above a whisper. 

In his silence, you find your answer. You nod softly with a self depreciating laugh. "When you weren't there for me, Bob was. I was there for you, for everything. Since we were babies and I couldn't even get you to show up for me, one time. All the military ceremonies and the navy balls and the graduations, and seeing you off before deployments and being there when you got back but you couldn't once be there for me?" you say, finally looking over at him as the tears fall. "I never cheated on you with Bob. I've never had sex with him, Roos.." you bite back a sob and he hangs his head. "But somewhere along the way I fell in love with him, and i can only hope that one day you will actually love someone how I loved you." you say, slipping the apartment key off your keys and you place it gently on the coffee table before walking out the door on the man you thought that you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and into the arms of the man who was always there for you.

#lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman top gun #lewis pullman x reader #robert floyd #robert 'bob' floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd x reader #miles teller imagine #miles teller top gun #miles teller x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #robert floyd imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader

[theundercoversquid]

Marriage

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Rooster wants to marry you

Warnings: None!

Masterlist

The day Rooster met you he briefly wondered what it would be like to marry. To watch you come down the aisle and to tell you his vows. He then realised that it was a strange and creepy thought to be having and pushed it away.

The day Rooster realised he was in love with you he surreptitiously found out your ring size. Just out of interest he tried to convince himself. Failing dismally. But that didn't matter as he wrote it down on his phone.

The day that you told each other that you loved each other was the day Rooster started looking at rings. It was just casually, he lied to himself. Just looking at what was out there. Just out of interest. But when the thoughts got too loud he closed the computer.

The day after you introduced him to your family he bought the ring. And the whole time he knew he was moving too quickly. And he promised himself he would hide in until he knew that you were ready. Because he didn't want to scare off the best thing that had ever happened to him.

On your first anniversary Rooster contemplated proposing to you. Wondering if it was too soon he tentatively and surreptitiously brought the topic up to you. You waved him off telling him that it was too soon. And Rooster respected your comment as the ring was returned to where it had come from.

This carried on for three more years. Until in the lead up to your fourth anniversary you and Rooster seemed to both come to the same conclusion. You were both ready for the next big commitment in your relationship.

So when on your fourth anniversary Rooster got down on one knee you didn't even think before saying yes. You were both ready and wanted this. You knew that it was the right decision.

And here you were, finally making it down the aisle. And Rooster couldn't believe how beautiful you looked. You looked ethereal and he felt honoured that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him.

When you made it to the end and clasped his hands with yours. Rooster knew that he would spend the rest of his days worshipping the ground that you walked on and thanking you for agreeing to spend the rest of your life with him.

The rest of the ceremony seemed to go by in a blur for Rooster as he was too busy drowning in the depths of your eyes. And he was itching to kiss you. So when he was finally allowed to kiss you he didn't waste a moment. Pulling you into him as he dipped you down and placed a resounding kiss to your lips.

#Top Gun: Maverick #top gun: maverick imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw imagine #rooster Bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fanfic #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw imagine #bradly bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #x reader #Imagine

[onebigfangirlworld]

Complete

Summary: Everyone has a soulmate, or sometimes multiple. But you will never feel complete until you have met all of your soulmates. It can sometimes take years to meet them, especially if you have multiple soulmate.

Relationship: Bob x Rooster x Hangma x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 3075 

A/n: This is only my second attempt at writing top gun fanfic so please be nice. Again this is heavily inspired by @daughterofthereaper02 her  works are absolutely amazing and you should go check them out

Link to masterlist

You were lucky to grow up in a world with soulmates. Someone, or multiple someones, were destined to love you forever. A majority of people had only one, some had two but even rarer were the ones with three soulmates. You fell into the last category. When you were thirteen years old, three names appeared on your rib cage, one right after another. Jake Seresin. Bradley Bradshaw. Robert Floyd. The three people that were meant to love you unconditionally. Your mother and father commented on how lucky you are to have three soulmates. They also told you that now begins the hard part. The waiting. Waiting to meet each and every single one of them. Your parents told you that you would never feel complete until you had met all three. Even if you had met two of them, it would never feel right until all three of you were together. Your parents also reminded you that there was a chance for one or all of them to die before you even met. If that were the case, their names would burn off your body and all that would be left would be a scar to remind you of what could have been. While you didn’t want to think about worst case scenarios, that little tidbit of information was always there in the back of your mind.

While some people actively searched for their soulmates, you choose not to. It would happen when it was supposed to happen. You weren’t going to force it. 

You met Bradley Bradshaw first. You both met in college, in your shared Spanish 101 class. It was the first day of classes and you two had sat right next to each other. It was as cheesy and cliche as one could get. The professor had told everyone to turn to their table partners and introduce themselves to each other. 

“These are going to be your partners for every group project and lesson going forward. Better to introduce and get to know each other now, rather than later. And who knows some of you might be soulmates,” the professor had said. You gently smiled at the  last statement, deep down hoping that it would be true.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” the man sitting next to you said. Your eyes widened and you turned towards your table partner. He had brown eyes, dark curly hair, and the beginnings of a mustache growing on his upper lip.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” you asked.

“Uhm, Bradley Bradshaw? “ It came out more like a question. “It’s my name.”

You gave him a soft smile, and extended your hand out towards him. 

“Y/N Y/L/N”

He returned the smile. 

That was the start of everything. After that fateful class was over, the two of you spent the rest of the day getting to know each other. You learned that he wanted to be a naval aviator, like his father and that something had happened between Bradley and his uncle to cause him to not get into the Naval Academy. You told him that you were a history major and that you wanted to teach just like your mother had done. You shared likes and dislikes with him, hopes and dreams, and what you feared. You two told each other everything. The two of you even spent time speculating about the other two names, Jake Seresin and Robert Floyd, that were tattooed onto your skin.

The years went by and soon you both were graduating college. After college, he would be going off to flight school. Even with the setback from his uncle, Bradley had still made it into the Navy and was on his way to becoming a naval aviator just like his father. You would follow Bradley to Pensacola, Florida while he attended flight school and you had accepted a job as a teacher for the high school on base. The perks of being a soulmate to someone in the military, you could stay on base with them. Neither of you were expecting to meet your second soulmate while in Pensacola.

It happened while you were on your lunch break. The students were all at lunch and you had a free period. Sometimes students would wander in and ask questions about homework assignments or use your classroom as a quiet place to study but today it was just you, and you embraced the silence.

Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz

Your phone would not stop buzzing. The screen kept lighting up with notifications. All were texts from Bradley. 

Bradley: I’ve met him

Bradley: Jake Seresin

Bradley: He’s a cocky asshole. Thinks he's better than everyone. 

Bradley: But he is also very good looking

Bradley: He asked if I had met you or Robert yet. I told him that I met you but not robert. I also told him that you were here on base with me.

Bradley: He also hasn’t met Robert yet. He wants to meet you.

Bradley: I told him he can come over after training today.

You: Oh wow, sounds like you had an interesting day. I’ll make sure there's enough food for dinner tonight to feed all three of us. 

You: I’m nervous to meet Jake. What if he doesn’t like me?

Bradley: Darling he will love you. After all we are all soulmates

You were so nervous to meet your other soulmate, that you went back to yours and Bradleys shared house and cleaned as much as you could, while also preparing dinner. If Jake was anything like Bradley, he would eat enough food for two people. 

“Darling I’m home and I’ve brought Jake!” Bradley’s voice rang out into your house.

“Kitchen!” you called back. “Dinner’s ready. I think I made enough for everyone but who knows.” 

You dry your hands with a dish towel, and turn around, seeing Bradley walk into the kitchen with Jake following behind him. 

“Sorry we’re late. Had to fill out some paperwork for the Navy,” Bradley said, as he walked over to you. He pulled you in and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, which you returned. 

“I'm Jake. Call sign hangman.” He said with a soft smile. 

“I don’t care what your call sign is. We don’t use them in the house,” you told him. It was a rule that you had established with Bradley, after learning about callsigns. “It’s the one rule I have.”

“I can do that sugar,” he responded. 

 As all three of you got to know each other over dinner, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to your third soulmate, Robert Floyd. You knew he was alive, as his name hadn’t been burned off your skin yet. A part of you wondered what he was up to, if he ever thought about the three of you, what he looked like, would he be in the Navy like Jake and Bradley or if he had a civilian job like you did.

Years passed.  The three of you settled in Oceana together. You taught history at the high school on base. Both Jake and Bradley left on deployments. Sometimes at the same time, sometimes if you were lucky, you had one home while the other was on deployment. Along the way, you made friends with some of the other soulmates that lived on base and got to meet Natasha, Bradleys best friend and fellow aviator, and Javy, Jake’s best friend and fellow aviator. When Natasha and Javy were in town, you, Jake and Bradley would invite them over for food and drinks, just to catch up. While you were happy with having two of your soulmates with you, you couldn’t help but reflect on your parents' words from years ago. That you would never feel fully complete, until you met all of them. You didn’t understand their words then but now, it all makes sense to you. However, one piece of mail was about to change all that.

“Sugar, you home?” Jake called. It was a relatively calm day, near the middle of November. The students were getting antsy as the school semester was getting ready to end and you couldn’t blame them. You were also ready for it to be over with.

“Living room! I was just trying to figure out what to do for dinner,” you responded and watched him walk into the living room. He had a look on his face. “What's with that look? Don’t tell me Bradleys deployment has been extended, I don't think I could handle that news right now.”

“No. Uhm,” He ran his hand down his face and took a deep breath. Like he was trying to figure out what to say to you.

“Is someone dead? Hurt? Are you deploying? Is Bradley missing?” You started firing off rapid questions to him, trying to figure out what was going on. Trying to figure out why Jake was acting the way he was. The panic was rising in your chest.

“No, nothing like that,” Jake said, trying to calm you down. “Bradley and I are getting called back to Top Gun. For a special detachment. We don’t know how long it’s going to be and we don’t know what the mission is.”

You stared at him and took in the words that he was saying. 

“Okay.” you nodded your head in understanding. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”

“Sugar, what about your job? What about-”

“No, I am coming with you. It’s almost finals and that will be easy for someone to cover. Besides, I haven't seen Bradley in almost 10 months. I’m not going to miss that. Plus, I want to be there with the two of you. If this mission is as dangerous as they are making it sound like, then I want to spend as much time with the two of you as I can. Even if that means going to North Island with you.”

The first time Bradley and Jake had gone to Top Gun, you had stayed behind in Oceana. You couldn’t get the time off work. Now that there was this mission, you wanted to see the Island. Bradley had grown up there and he and Jake had both enjoyed their times at North Island. Even though they spent a lot of time while there competing with each other.

“Okay, I’ll let them know that you're coming with us then. You better start packing, sugar. We leave tonight,” you gave him a kiss on his cheek and jumped up from the couch. “Bradley also sent me a list of stuff that he wanted us to bring. Do you mind getting that all together while I call some people?” 

“Of course not. Write it down, and anything you might need.” He writes it down and you head straight to the bedroom, packing up the items Bradley, Jake and yourself would need. A few hours later you found yourself on a plane headed to North Island.

When you had awoken the next day, you were shocked to find Bradley in bed with you and Jake. You hadn’t known when he was coming in, and you were surprised to see him this early in the morning. As the day progressed, the three of you unpacked and reacquainted with one another. 

Later that day, Bradley was out grocery shopping, while you and Jake had stayed home. Jake was getting ready to head out with Javy , who had also been assigned to the special detachment, to go to The Hard Deck to have a ‘welcome back to Top Gun and let's see who was all recalled’ night. Bradley would meet him at The Hard Deck later and you had opted to stay home. Even though you had come to North Island with the two of them, you still had to finish up making study guides and then making the final tests for your students to take.

“You sure you're gonna be alright here by yourself tonight?” Jake asked you as he walked into the living room. You jumped a little out of your seat on the couch. You had been so distracted and lost in thought that you hadn’t heard Jake walk out of the bedroom. He was dressed in his khaki uniform, and you took him. He looked as handsome as ever, and only he could make that khaki uniform look so good.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. If i don’t do these now, they won’t ever get done. Enjoy your night out. Say hi to Javy for me,”  you said offhandedly before turning back to your computer but made no move to start doing your work. 

“Is everything okay, sugar?” 

“I-,” you started, “Do you ever think about him? Robert I mean.”

“Sometimes. Why?”

“I just- sometimes I don’t think he’s real. No, wait here me out. I know his name is tattooed on our skin, and that he is still alive but it’s been years since we’ve all met and I’m just slowly losing hope that we're ever going to meet him. I’m afraid that he’s only going to be a name tattoed on us. That we will never meet. That one or all of us could die before we all meet. Or what if he dies and we never meet. He’ll just be a ghost haunting us til we pass and he’ll be all alone,” you explain. During your rant, Jake had moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Oh sugar, why didn’t you tell any of this?” Jake asked.

“ I don’t know. It’s just you and Bradley never seemed worried about it. I just figured you two would think I was crazy or just brush it off and tell me that when it’s meant to happen it will happen.”

“No, sugar. Bradley and I just talk about it amongst ourselves so that way we don’t worry you. But listen to me. Robert is out there and we will find him, okay? Then we can be one big happy family together.” He grabbed your hands and held onto them. “He is real and he is out there. Who knows we might meet him thanks to this mission. And next time you wanna talk about this or anything else, come talk to Bradley and I. Don’t bottle it up. Okay?”

You nodded your head and smiled at him.

“There's that award winning smile I love. I’m gonna head out now. Let me or Bradley know if you need anything. Okay sugar?” 

“Yeah I will. Depending on how late you and Bradley will be out, I might be asleep when you get back. Take care of each other okay. Have fun with your back to top gun night and tell Javy I said hello. Love you!” You yelled after him as he start walking out the front door. 

“Jake wait!” you hollered. He turned around to face you, halfway out the front door. “Do you think we might meet Robert during this special mission?”

“I do,” He smiled and nodded. “I really do sugar. I love you and I’ll see you later tonight”

With that he walked out the door. You turned back around to your laptop and got started on the study guide.

“Darling, wake up.” You felt some gently shaking your shoulders. Your eyes slowly open, revealing Bradley’s eyes staring right back at you. “There's someone that would like to meet you.”

You groggily look around. Bradley was kneeling in front of the couch, next to you. You must have fallen asleep while working on the study guides for your classes’ finals. Jake was standing behind him, with the coffee table separating him from you and Bradley. But there was a third person standing behind Jake, keeping his distance from you. He was tall, wore glasses, had on a khaki uniform that matched the one Jake was wearing and that Bradley had hanging up in your shared closet. 

“Who’s he?” You asked quietly, nodding your head towards the third man standing in the room.

“That’s Robert. Robert Floyd. He’s Tasha’s WSO, yes she’s also here, for this mission. He’s stationed in Lemoore,” Bradley answered. You looked over to the third man then back to Bradley then to Jake. You raise your eyebrows and point towards Robert, still not believing that he was there and he was real. 

“He’s here sugar and he’s very real,” Jake says. 

You stood up from the couch and walked towards Robert. He had stood there, silently, watching Jake and Bradley talk about him. Hesitantly, you reached out and touched the nameplate on Robert’s chest. A blush rises up his cheeks.

“You’re real, right? This isn’t one of my dreams that feels real but actually isn’t,” you softly say.

“No. This is 100% real,” Robert answers. 

Finally, you let yourself believe that Robert is truly there, standing there in front of you. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a hug. You bury your face into his chest. You feel his arms slowly wrap around you and hold you tight to him.

“So I get a handshake when we first meet, and he gets a hug? Not fair,” Jake says. You let out a gentle laugh.

“Hush Jake. Stop being jealous,” you tell him. As much as it pains you, you let Robert go and turn towards the other two. “It’s late, you three have to be up early in the morning. We should get to bed.”

As Jake and Bradley head down to your shared room, Robert heads towards the door.

“Stay, please,” you beg him. “Jake and Brad should have something that will fit you. They can drop you off at your room tomorrow morning if they have too. But just stay please. We, I, have been waiting a long time to meet you.”

Robert looked nervous and almost shocked that you had asked him to stay.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Don’t make her ask twice, Bobby. she won’t like it!” Jake yelled from the bedroom.

“Besides, that’s breaking rule number two!” Bradley also yelled.

You looked at each other. You cocked your head towards the bedroom, silently asking him to come with you. He followed you down the hall. Bradley passed some clothes off to Robert. After all of you had changed, you all climbed into bed, working around each other to become comfortable. You drift off asleep, surround by the warmth of your three soulmates.

At last you finally felt complete. 

#top gun maverick #robert 'bob' floyd #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bob x rooster x hangman x reader #top gun maverick imagine #robert 'bob' floyd imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #jake 'hangman' seresin imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #robert floyd x reader #writings of one

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

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#bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster fic #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction

[topgun-imagines]

Say My Name

Requested: no

Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.

Word count: 3.4k

Note: banner by @lewmagoo

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.

His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.

The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.

“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.

Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.

Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.

Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.

Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.

Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.

The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious

Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.

The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.

You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.

“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.

You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.

Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.

Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.

As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.

The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.

Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.

Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.

“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.

The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”

The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.

After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.

You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.

His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.

For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.

The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.

With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.

For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.

Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.

Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.

“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.

One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.

Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.

“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.

You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.

“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.

Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.

Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.

This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.

Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.

Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.

In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N

Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.

Master List

Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.

There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.

And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.

Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.

And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.

But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.

“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.

“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”

“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.

“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.

There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.

“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.

You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.

“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”

Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.

“I could get used to this.”

“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.

“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”

“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.

“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.

“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.

You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.

“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.

“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm fanfiction #tgm #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #top gun rooster #rooster x you #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #rooster fluff #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader

[topguncortez]

"honey, I'm home" SCREAMS Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw can not enter a room without letting everyone know he’s there. it’s probably something he inherited from his father, but he is one person who knows how to make an entrance.

The first time he had ever called out that ridiculous yet iconic line, was right after you moved in together. It had caught you off guard, making you round the corner with a questionable look on your face making sure you did in fact here him yell:

“honey, i’m home!” Bradley said again as you stood in the doorway.

“i see that,” You said, shaking your head at him, “And what is this announcement for?”

“Well,” He set down his duffle bag, “I thought I should tell you I was home,” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal, “So you didn’t think i was an intruder. We’ve only been living together…” Bradley checks his watch, “43 hours and 25 minutes.”

You smile at the mustached man in front of you, “Well thank you for announcing your presence and scaring any potential burglars away.”

“All a part of the ‘living with Bradley Bradshaw’ package you purchased.”

“Yeah?” You bit your lip, your eyes raking over the bit of chest hair that was poking out of the top of his black t-shirt, “What else is included in the package?”

“This,” Bradley quickly hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your new shared bedroom.

#g mail #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw blurb #rooster blurb #top gun blurb #top gun maverick blurb #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

[kyber-crystal]

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated. 

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait. 

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out. 

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.” 

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you. 

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas. 

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair.  Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch. 

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…” 

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat. 

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality. 

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough. 

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours. 

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight. 

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light. 

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before. 

Everything seems to fall into place. 

IV. for you, i’d cross the line 

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance. 

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing. 

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness. 

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours. 

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you. 

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.” 

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together. 

You’re never letting go, and neither is he. 

epilogue—soul ties 

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear. 

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady. 

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else. 

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness. 

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you. 

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered. 

You shake your head. 

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly. 

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.” 

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.” 

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall. 

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips. 

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest. 

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done. 

And you were most certainly right about that now. 

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other. 

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again. 

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself. 

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate. 

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

#top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun maverick fic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you

[make-me-imagine]

Love is Stored in Post-It Notes

Prompt: Surprise reunion on Valentine’s Day

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @paigewinchester67; you requested smut but I don't write that, so you got fluff instead lol, I hope you like it anyways.

Warnings: Nothing~

Words: 1k

-

Carrying a damp rag in your hand as you slowly made your way through the house, cleaning as you went, you began opening drawers and sorting them out.

Opening another drawer, you moved a piece of paper, revealing an old cigar box. You smiled the second you saw it, taking it out as fond memories washed over you.

Sliding open the lid, you revealed a pile of post-it notes in various colors covered in your's and Bradley's handwriting.

Picking a few up, you read through the notes, some with obvious memories attached, and some you couldn't quite remember.

'I love you!'

'I'll meet you at the spot at 7!'

'Don't forget the chargers this time'

'Dinner is at 6'

'I didn't want to wake you. I will see you later, I love you.'

You don't know why you kept most of them, but every time you found one from Bradley, it felt like he left a little piece of him behind, just for you.

Grabbing another one, you smiled, though it held an air of melancholy with it.

'Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ No'

The memory ran through your head. You and Bradley had been dating for a few months. It was the first Valentines Day you would be spending as a couple. He had stuck it on your phone when you weren't looking.

When you noticed it, you met his eyes from across the room and he winked, before grinning at you and motioning for you to check a box.

You had acted as though it was a tough decision, tapping the pen against your chin as you decided what to check. He frowned playfully as he clasped his hands together, as if begging you to say yes. After another moment, you had checked yes, of course.

Every year since then, he had asked you in the same way, always leaving the note for you to randomly find. On your pillow to find when you woke up, on your car steering wheel when you headed to town, on the bathroom mirror when you went to take a shower.

Each years note was stacked behind the last. All with the same question and always with the same response.

Looking up at the calendar, you noted that Valentines Day was only a few days away. And for the first time, Bradley wasn't here.

Valentines Day was not the most celebrated holiday, nor was it all that important in reality. But it would be the first time you weren't together for it.

It would be the first time you didn't dress up a little more than any other date night. The first time you wouldn't buy each other flowers, or cheesy cards. The first time you wouldn't make a themed breakfast for the two of you.

You both always made it so fun, you loved your cheesy holiday together. But even if you couldn't do it this year, you would live, as long as he came back at some point. That was all you could really ask for.

Putting the post-it notes back in the box and placing it gently in the drawer, you continued with your cleaning, trying to busy yourself.

As you made your way towards the bedroom, you stopped as you heard a knock at the door. Heading back towards the door, your immediate thought was that it was a delivery.

Peaking out the window, you saw no one. Opening the door, you immedietely looking down, expecting a box or envelope. But seeing nothing, you furrowed your brow and looked around, confused.

Shaking your head slightly, you figured maybe it was someone who had the wrong house, or maybe just a bored kid. As you turned to head back in, your eyes caught on something pink on the door, as you did a sharp double take.

On the door, just under the peep-hole, there was a pink post-it note. Your breath hitched in your throat as you grabbed the note, reading the message, written in familiar handwriting.

'Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ No'

Spinning around, your eyes darted around before locking on Bradley just as he stepped out from behind the car, a grin on his face as he removed his sunglasses.

"Bradley!" You laughed out as you rushed to each other, quickly embracing each other.

He laughed as he hugged you, picking you up off the ground as he spun around. "Miss me?"

"Always." You replied with a bright grin on your face as you pulled away. You placed your hands on either side of his face, making sure you weren't dreaming. You pulled his head down and pressed your forehead against his as you spoke "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well then I couldn't surprise you could I?"

Reaching towards his pocket, you watched as he pulled out a pen and smiled. "So?"

You repressed a laugh as you took the pen, before placing the post-it on the wall and checking the yes box. Turning back to him you stuck it on his chest before patting it two times, unable to remove the grin from your face.

Placing his hand over the post-it he smiled widely as he reached out, pulling you to him again before he brought his face close to yours.

He stared into your eyes for a moment before he spoke softly "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." You replied.

"And I love you so much."

You giggled softly "And I love you so much too."

Leaning in, your lips met as you wrapped your arms around him. It looks like you'll get your cheesy holiday together after all.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun/Rooster Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389, @writerfulltime, @readingwithatorch

#Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw/reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x you #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x gn!reader #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun: maverick fic #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw oneshot #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw one shot #top gun oneshot #top gun: maverick one shot

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

Never There part 2

happy easter if you celebrate!

i rewrote this three times before finally word vomitting this piece out. thinking one more part for this one and then it'll be wrapped up

warnings: 18+, swearing, reader throws a punch, some talk of blood, no smut but allusions to "bob fucks" mentality, some arguing

word count: 2k

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

It’s been a month since you left Bradley, at least the apartment that you shared once upon a time. You still worked at the Hard Deck while you were waiting for your state veterinary license to come in so you can start to try and find a clinic to work in. 

To make matters worse, nearly every single night the Dagger squad took up residence at the pool tables after they were dismissed for the day from Top Gun. Meaning nearly every single night, you were stuck serving Bradley and his friends, even Bob. Bradley did his best to try and get you back, he would try to make small talk whenever he could between down time but you always did your best to ignore him. The rest of the team would look over at you, almost like they pitied you. 

Bob was the only one who looked at you like you were a real person. He would stay until after close when you worked late, would usually be leaving with you when you had a shift where you were out before midnight. 

You had caught yourself a couple of times, just after the break up. You nearly walked over a few times after your shift but after what had happened, you doubt any of them actually wanted your company. 

It was a rare shift where you were working and Bob wasn’t at the bar, so when you walked out at 2:45 in the morning and a hand wrapped around your bicep you didn’t hesitate to whip around and punch the person who grabbed you. 

“Ouch what the fuck was that for?” a light voice yells at you and you take a better look at them.

“Natasha? Oh my god, why the fuck would you grab me like that?” you shoot back and set your bag down before taking her face in your hands so you can look at her nose. “Well, it isn’t broken, just bleeding, you’ll probably have a bruise in the morning.” you tell her before grabbing your first aid kit from your bag you always carried around and you hand her some tissues to hold against her face.

“Why are you here, Nat?” 

“To talk to you, you’ve been avoiding all of us like the plague aside from Bob.” she says, spitting some of the blood into the plants off to the side.

“You couldn’t have texted me that you needed to talk?” you ask, picking up your stuff and walking back towards your 4Runner and she follows you.

“No, this couldn’t have been a text because I know that you would have ignored it.” she pulled the tissue away and checks to see if the bleeding stopped with a different one you handed to her. You nod, knowing she wasn’t wrong and you open your door and toss your bag in and she slams it shut, making sure not to hit you. 

“Nat!”

“I need you to know I never had sex with Bradley,” you roll your eyes and she pushes you against your car. “I didn’t sleep with him. No one from the squad even knew he was seeing someone else. We’re sorry that we didn’t go to your graduation, it was our fault and we had the weekends mixed up.”

“Bullshit. I texted all of you in a group and individually when it was, Natasha.” you glare at her and she straightens up, like she’s sizing you up even though you have a few inches and pounds on her.

“We fucked up, but don’t ice us out like this.” 

“I’m icing Bradley out, and you all hang off his every word most of the time, so forgive me for not wanting to keep the company my ex boyfriend keeps, Trace. Now back off so I can go home and go to bed. It’s been a long day and unlike you, I actually had a job to do.” you knew it was a low blow but it got her to back off and you got in your car, not looking back once as you pulled out of the parking lot; she watched you drive off with tears in her eyes. You were one of her best friends and one of the only other girls she actually tolerated that hung around the Hard Deck. She was quick to wipe her eyes before climbing in her own car and driving to her off base housing.

You walked into Bob’s house, not wanting to be alone and he’s already fast asleep. You strip quickly, slipping into one of his discarded shirts before climbing into bed with him. He lets out a small hum before shifting and wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“How was work?” he mumbles before kissing your shoulder.

“Punched Natasha in the face on accident.” you respond and settle more against him.

“What?” he asks, a little more coherently.

“I’ll tell you in the morning.” you say and he just wraps his arm tighter around you.

You wake up alone, which isn’t unusual since you got home late most nights and he was awake early every morning. The smell of coffee and bacon summons you to the kitchen and he smiles at you when you walk in. 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, setting a cup in front of you and you can smell your favorite irish creme coffee creamer and you smile before taking a sip and letting out a gentle moan.

“It was better when I finally got home.”

“What happened with you and Nat?” 

“She grabbed my arm as I was leaving the bar and I just… decked her. Right in the nose too so don’t be surprised if she’s sporting some bruising next time you see her.”

“What did she want?�� 

“Said she wanted to talk? Something about how everyone from the squad misses me and that she didn’t sleep with Bradley and that none of you guys even knew he was cheating on me.” you look up at him and he’s already looking over at you. He gives you a small smile before turning the bacon.

“The team does miss you. And they do feel bad for not being there, there’s no excuse for why they weren’t but at least give them another chance?”

“They’re Brad’s friends-”

“So am I. Do you know how hard it is being his friend and living with you?” he asks, not meaning any malice but you still feel a sting.

“Well then I’ll leave, I’ll start looking for apartments tomorrow-”

“That’s not what ’m sayin’.” he says, his drawl coming out a little more since he’s getting frustrated. “All ‘m sayin’ is that you and him were a package deal for so long and now you’re not, but we got used to havin’ you ‘round and now you’re not there anymore. They miss you.” he plates the food up and sets a plate in front of you. “And yeah, livin’ with you and lovin’ you is hard, especially when not even a month ago you were still with Brad.” 

“You love me?” you ask looking up at him and he gives you a pointed look.

“That’s all you got from that?” 

“No but-”

“No but’s. Brad and you need to talk things out ‘fore things get more serious between you and I.” 

“We have nothing to talk about. You and I have basically been together for months, the only difference is I was still sleeping with him.” you mumble into your eggs and he rolls his eyes.

“Talk to Bradley. Talk to Natasha. Talk to the rest of the Dagger’s for god’s sake.” 

“Why are you mad at me?” you ask, your voice small and he sighs.

“I’m not mad at you, darlin’. I’m mad at the situation. You deserved so much better than anythin’ that Bradley gave you, and I want nothin’ more than to love you in public and not have to worry about him ripping my arms off every time that I touch you.” He places his hand on your thigh and gives you a gentle squeeze, “sure our relationship start wasn’t conventional by any means, but I know that I want you, but I also want Bradley to be okay with it, he and I are on the same team and I don’t want the dynamic getting ruined.” 

“So you wouldn’t be selfish, and just be with me despite what he says? You’d wait for Bradley’s permission to date me?” 

He sighs, knowing no matter how this ends he’s going to be sleeping on the couch so he just agrees with you. “Yes, darlin’. I would wait because the last thing that anyone needs is two people in goddamn f-18’s to be fighting with each other when we’re supposed to be on the same side.” 

You’re silent the rest of the meal and he feels bad, knowing that you don’t like arguing, especially first thing in the morning so when you’re standing at the sink washing the dishes from breakfast he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and hooks his chin on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I do love you, and I want nothing more than to be selfish with you. But Brad was an important person in your life for a majority of your life. It’s important to me that he’s okay with us being together.” he whispers softly against your ear and you nod, “besides, it’s my bed you’re in now, not his.” you laugh and he presses kisses down your neck while his hands sneak their way under your shirt. You flinch at the coolness of his fingers and he drags you back to the bedroom by your hips and your laugh fills the apartment as you try to grab at the walls and door frames. 

“Robert!” you cry out and he tosses you on the bed before climbing on top of you. He has a leg pressed between your thighs and you wrap your arms around his neck as one of his hands rests on your thigh and the other holds your head as he leans down on his elbow to be closer to you.

“I love you, darlin’. More than anything, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much.” he says and your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips.

“What are you waiting for, Lieutenant?” you whisper and he gives you a gentle smirk.

“Your permission.” he says, accent thick and the gravel to his voice has you pulling him down in a bruising kiss.

The bedroom quickly fills with moans, groans, gasps, and wet noises as Bob takes you to heaven and back four separate times before he fills you, only to do it again in the shower while you two are trying to get ready to head to the Hard Deck where you have to help Penny with the book keeping and he’s meeting the rest of the team to play dogfight football. 

He helps you get ready since you’re unsteady on your legs and he laughs and presses a kiss to your wet neck, “gonna be leaking me out of you all day in front of all our friends and your boss.”

“Bob, if we want to leave, get away from me. And they’re your friends.”

“They’re our friends darlin’, you just lost your way a bit.” he tells you and you sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to Bradley today, see if I can pull him away from the game for a bit or something.” 

By the time you two finally arrive at the beach Penny already has the back deck supplied with beers and burgers for the team. Mav pulls you into a hug and you gladly return it.

“It’s good to see you kid.” 

“It’s good to see you too.” you say before pulling away from the hug and walking up to Bradley, “can we talk?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” he says, standing up from where he was seated with Natasha and you give her a small smile.

He follows you into the bar and you two take a seat at a booth by the window, Bob shoots you a reassuring smile through the glass and you return it. “So, what did you want to talk about?” Bradley asks as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Us. Or well, what happened to us.”

#top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #lewis pullman imagine #robert floyd #robert 'bob' floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert 'bob' floyd imagine #robert 'bob' floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #natasha trace #natasha 'phoenix' trace

[theundercoversquid]

5 times Rooster came home

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: 5 of the most memorable times Bradley came home

Warnings: Fluff!

Masterlist

The first was when you had just started dating

It would take Bradley a while to admit this. But when he got back he was secretly preparing himself for you to not be there.

He was prepared for you to have released that you couldn't do this. You couldn’t date a serviceman. You couldn't date someone who left. You couldn't date someone who may never come back to you.

Rooster could remember the moment he spotted you there. Nervously stood amongst the other men and women waiting for their other halves to come home. You looked fidgety and nervous. As if you felt out of place. But the moment you spotted Rooster your eyes lit up. And as Rooster saw the love fill your eyes he knew two things. He wasn't going to lose you. And you weren't going to leave him.

Rooster watched as you took off at a sprint in his direction. Grinning like a Cheshire cat Rooster opened his arms for you and braced to catch you. You launched yourself at Rooster and wrapped yourself around him. Burying your head into the junction of his neck.

“I missed you.” You told Rooster. He only just understood you from where your face was hidden. But he didn't care. He could feel your warmth.

"I missed you too." Rooster murmured his head nuzzling into yours.

The second was after he had proposed

This time Rooster knew you would be there when he returned. The two of you had been dating for long enough. And you had said yes to marrying him. 

When he returned he could see you chatting to some of the other Navy spouses. The ring he had given you sparking on your finger. You didn't look like you felt out of place anymore.

But still. Even after how long you had been together. Your eyes still let up when you saw him. And you still launched yourself at him.

"I missed you." You murmured into the junction of his neck. 

"I missed you two." Rooster replied. His head resting on your head. 

The third was when you were just married

Rooster couldn't wait to get home. He had to leave not long after your honeymoon.

'No rest for the wicked.' You had teased him when he got called away. You had both wanted more time as newlyweds before he had to leave again. But this was the plight of being in the armed services.

When Rooster finally spotted you, you were already running towards him. Dropping his bags, Rooster opened his arms for you. 

You launched yourself at him. Your head coming to rest in the junction of his neck.

"I missed you." You murmured into his neck.

"I missed you too." Rooster whispered, dropping a kiss to your head.

The fourth was when you were pregnant with your first child

This time you did launch yourself at him. You didn't throw yourself into his arms. Something that Rooster understood completely given the fact that you were heavily pregnant and couldn't even walk properly. 

But, Rooster still pulled you in for a hug. Just a very gentle one cautious of your precious cargo. And you still buried your nose into the junction of his neck. Inhaling his scent.

"We missed you." You murmured into his neck.

"I missed you both too." Rooster murmured back. His free hand coming to rest on your swollen bump.

The fifth was when you weren’t waiting alone

This time Rooster knew you wouldn't be alone. 

When Rooster returned you had your son on your hip, and Maverick stood behind you.

Rooster watched as your eyes lit up at the sight of him. Only this time you didn't go running towards him. This time it was his son who ran and jumped into his arms. You appeared behind as you wrapped both your boys in a hug. As Roosters wrapped his free arm around you. The three of you happily wrapped up in your family bubble. You head nestles into the junction of Rooster's neck.

"We missed you." You murmured into his neck.

"I missed you both too." Rooster murmured back.

But this time you stopped away sooner than he wanted. Only for him to see Maverick stood behind you. Looking as nervous and as unsure as you had the first time you had waited for him.

Grinning Rooster had stepped forwards and used his free arm to engulf his uncle in a hug. Maverick had stiffened at the original contact before relaxing into Roosters hold. Your son babbling happily as ‘grandpa Mav’ joined in. Grinning at the men in your life they beckoned for you to join.

Caving in quickly and easily you walked up to them and wrapped your arms around them. And the four of you stayed like that happily. You were all exactly where you needed to be in that moment.

#top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw imagine #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fanfic #rooster bradshaw imagine #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #x reader #Imagine

[onebigfangirlworld]

Peace and Quiet

Summary: Your exhausted but you also want to spend some time with your boys

Relationship: Bob x Rooster x Hangman x gn!reader

Warnings: none, this is just a lot of fluff

Word Count: 598

A/N: I havent written a fic since like 2018/2019 so please be nice to me. This is heavily insired by @daughterofthereaper02 and her work. I don’t own these characters and please don’t steal my work

Link to masterlist

You didn’t know who or what to blame for your exhaustion. You could blame the full moon that was happening tonight. You could blame the fact that all the students in your classes today were rambunctious and couldn’t sit still. You could blame the fact that you were up late unpacking box after box, trying to get moved into your new home with your boyfriends. You tried to find a reason for your exhaustion but there were just too many to count. Even though you could feel the exhaustion sitting in your bones, you still joined your boyfriends out for a night at The Hard Deck. Having not seen them, in what felt like weeks due to busy schedules, you’d take any chance to see them.

“You doin’ alright, sugar?” Jake asked you. The two of you had been playing pool against each other but you were struggling. Jake had noticed pretty quickly. So had Bradley and so had Bob. The three of them always seemed to notice when something was wrong. 

“Yeah,” you give him a soft smile, “but I think I’m gonna get another drink. Can you step in for me Bradley, please?” 

“Of course, darling,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you passed the pool cue off to him. You stopped by Bob, sitting on a bar stool watching the pool table and having a conversation with Phoenix, and asked if he or Phoenix needed anything. You got their drink orders, and a refill of peanuts for Bob, before making your way over to the bar. 

Returning to the pool area you pass off the drinks to everyone, before slotting yourself between Bob’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist, as he continues his conversation with Phoenix. Your back presses against his chest, as you feel yourself relax into his embrace. 

“You alright there, sweetheart?” he mumbles quietly in your ear. 

“Yeah. Just tired that’s all,” you respond before stealing some peanuts out of the cup in front of you. He nods his head in response and gives you a quick kiss on the side of your head before returning to the conversation. You closed your eyes, laid your head back on his shoulder, let out a deep sigh and relaxed even more into Bob’s arms. 

Bradley nudged Jake’s ribs, stopping him from lining up the shot he was just about to take.

“What-” Jake started saying before Bradley cut him off and pointed towards Bob and you. Both you and Bob were enjoying the quietness of each other’s company. The two men smiled at the two of you fondly. They wished they could freeze the moment and stay there forever. It was as close to perfect as they could get right now.  

Bradley and Jake were finishing up round two of their pool game, when Bob got their attention. He jerked his head towards the door, a subtle hint, asking if they were ready to go. You were practically falling asleep in Bob’s arms and the boys all agreed it was time to go home. 

“You ready to go sweetheart?” Bob softly asked. You opened your eyes and saw your boys all staring at you. You nodded your head and moved out of Bob’s arms. Jake wrapped his arms around your shoulders and led you out the front door, with Bradley and Bob following behind you. As you walked to the car, you felt Jake give you a gentle kiss on your forehead. You gave him a soft smile. You were very happy and content and ready to go to bed.

#top gun maverick #robert 'bob' floyd #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bob x rooster x hangman x reader #top gun maverick imagine #robert 'bob' floyd imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #jake 'hangman' seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #robert floyd x reader #writings of one

[roosterforme]

Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

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

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

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

"I need to move."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My treat."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"M'kay." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

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

"I'll be there soon."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not those ones."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

"Why?" he demanded again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

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

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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