#bradley bradshaw angst

[bloatedandalone04]

If It Makes You Happy - Part 1

➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy

Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”

His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.

Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck. 

“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

“Yes,”

One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?” 

“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”

Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”

If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is. 

He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.

So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.” 

After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief. 

Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier. 

The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.” 

As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure. 

You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.

He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours. 

You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.

“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.  

“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder. 

“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”

That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?” 

Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”

He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?” 

You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”

-

You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.

After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.

“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious. 

“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long. 

Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months. 

And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him. 

It was simple, easy, casual. 

You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.

Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him. 

“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink. 

“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,” 

That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops. 

You were beautiful, to put it simply. 

He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark. 

It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you. 

The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things. 

Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well. 

As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits. 

He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.

He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights. 

All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it. 

There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you. 

You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be. 

He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house. 

And you had started to, kind of. 

Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.

There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?

Right?

As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”

You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar. 

“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”

“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”

Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek. 

“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.” 

Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake. 

“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”

You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”

Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”

At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.” 

His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer. 

“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”

That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”

He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace. 

Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”

It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation. 

-

The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,” 

You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone. 

As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him. 

The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.  

“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”

This was it.

Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”

He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,” 

Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”

From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,” 

There it was.

You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”

You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.” 

His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”

You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?” 

Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”

It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world. 

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs. 

“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”

You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you. 

“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw. 

You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried. 

He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half. 

Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart. 

As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact. 

He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.

It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock. 

“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”

“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”

“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”

“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-” 

Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”

And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days. 

-

A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you. 

His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home. 

His.

Bradley had to laugh. 

You weren’t his.

He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.

God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now. 

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.

Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock. 

Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?

A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer. 

He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.

If you listened to it at all.

“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”

He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to. 

“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side. 

-

It went on like that for weeks. 

Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you. 

He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier. 

He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his. 

Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you. 

You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot. 

He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend. 

Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago. 

While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.

He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up. 

Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more. 

When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck. 

Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead. 

He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now. 

Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.

Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.

You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.

Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too. 

He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you. 

After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.

He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.

You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.

He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want. 

To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck. 

Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradsaw x reader #top gun rooster #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #miles teller #top gun au #top gun maverick #bradly rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 The rest of the tags are in the comments!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

#top gun #rooster #bradley bradshaw #rooster fluff #miles teller #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #tgm #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster angst #bradley bradshaw angst

[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

#fic: accident #oneshot #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick smut #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #miles teller smut #miles teller fanfic #miles teller oneshot #miles teller #rooster x reader #rooster smut #rooster x you #promising young lady : enid writes📝 #my writing lowkey shit sorry

[katsu28]

for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today. 

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks. 

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. 

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you. 

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like. 

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose. 

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later. 

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him. 

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten. 

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought. 

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—” 

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.” 

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!” 

“Is it okay if we talk first?” 

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words. 

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.” 

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—” 

“I think we should break up.” He blurted. 

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?” 

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you. 

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside. 

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features. 

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.” 

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?” 

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me. 

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months. 

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.” 

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say. 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

“Y/N, I—” 

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face. 

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be. 

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth. 

All because of him. 

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one. 

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him. 

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him. 

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better. 

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here. 

“I promised you I would.” 

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship. 

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise. 

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.” 

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.” 

“Humor me, Bradshaw.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.” 

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever. 

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it. 

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.” 

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Who usually taps you out?” 

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today. 

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.” 

“I wanna do it.”

“What?” 

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.” 

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.” 

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.” 

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him. 

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did. 

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home. 

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.” 

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—” 

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.” 

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.” 

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.” 

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.” 

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.” 

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.” 

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady. 

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.” 

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”  

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.” 

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.” 

“From now on? Does that mean…?” 

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it. 

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time. 

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.” 

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back. 

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” 

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—” 

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—” 

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake. 

“Hangman. Shut. Up.” 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!” 

“You’re the only one talking!” 

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.” 

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years. 

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again. 

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot. 

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of. 

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car. 

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?” 

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.” 

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.” 

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?” 

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm. 

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So you do?” 

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.” 

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #first fic in forever WHO CHEERED #it's me i cheered #when i tell you it was a relief to know i can still write things #ok shut up kait #ENJOY <3

[ohtobeleah]

An Angel’s Discretion //

Summary: When Bradley gets a call to say you’ve been involved in a major car accident, his whole world is turned upside down.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x wifeF!reader. Car Accident. Pregnancy, Bradley in a state of existential crisis. Pre-mature birth. Hurt/comfort. Goose cameo.

Word Count: 3.5k

It felt like time stood still yet had sped up all at the same time. Your entire world had been flipped on its head in the blink of an eye—you felt like your entire life was flashing before your eyes. A Rolodex of memories played out before you as you spun out and rolled down into the embankment. You didn’t know exactly how it happened or why it happened - but regardless of that, it still very much happened and you were still very much in trouble. 

It had been god awful weather recently, so much so the Dagger’s had been grounded for the better half of a week. Bradley had been home for a change, pottering around the house baby proofing sharp edges and making sure the crib was set up just like the instruction book had said. 

It seemed that people truly believed that the car you were trapped in for nearly half an hour had flipped and rolled hours ago. An empty mangled car on the side of the road—nobody stopped to see if there were any occupants. Nobody stopped to snoop. Nobody heard your cries— the cries of a woman in unimaginable pain. Hoping, praying, as you remained helplessly tangled in your seat belt. You had blood gushing from wounds you didn’t know what exactly had been caused by and had bones that shattered from impact. 

You stayed there, trapped in a mess of broken glass and twisted aluminum, whimpering as you rubbed your swollen belly. Seven months. Seven beautiful months carrying your child. Bradley’s daughter. You’d spent seven months promising to keep her safe - keep her sound. You didn’t know the gender but the feeling was there and it was strong, you were having a little baby girl. 

Bradley wanted to keep the gender a surprise, but you knew deep down with every fibre of your being that you were having a girl, that he’d be a girl dad till his dying day. But as you slowly brought your hand up to cup over your bellybutton? You knew something was utterly wrong.

“We’re okay, aren’t we spud.” You mumbled as your vision blurred and your head became far too heavy for you to keep it lifted. “Mama’s gonna take ca-care of you.” You struggled out before succumbing to the feeling of emptiness as you drifted into unconsciousness—the sound of your shattered phone playing your doting husband's ringtone. Replay by iyaz. One final smile appeared on your bloodied broken face as you heard the all too familiar sound. 

Before.....nothing. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Baby seats shouldn’t be this complicated to fit!” Bradley groaned as he tried to figure out how to secure the baby seat into the backseat of the Bronco. Jake was too busy trying to reread the instructions. “Nope, I can’t do this right now I need a break.” The pair of naval aviators had been off work for the better half of the week and while you were out grocery shopping, Jake had come over to lend a helping hand at putting together some flat pack furniture. “Good thing this baby isn’t coming for another few months.” 

“Ah, you’ve jinxed it now!” Jake teased, clicking his fingers at Bradley to grab his attention. “Also, apparently it’s meant to face the other way round.” Jake grinned ear to ear as Bradley deadpanned him. Giving up in entirety before he turned back to the house with a huff. “Oh come on! Where are you going, Rooster! we almost had it!” Jake laughed, jogging after his wingman up to the house. 

“I need a beer!” It had been a long afternoon for the two men who had done nothing but unpack and organise the nursery. Bradley was in his own nesting phase. He’d read in a bunch of parents books that nesting was something you’d go through in preparation for the little spud on the way. He was now finding that he was doing it too. 

“Oh I’ll take one too.” Jake trailed behind Rooster into the kitchen. “Job well done deserves a bevy.” Just as Bradley opened the fridge and passed Jake the Budweiser, his phone began to ring out on the kitchen counter. “Oh—unknown number man.” Jake announced. 

“It’s probably Y/n.” Bradley twirled his wedding band as he stood to answer his phone that was sitting on the kitchen bench, not recognising the number lighting up his screen. For a moment he wasn’t going to answer because why would you be calling from an unknown number. But he just had a gut feeling. He’d called you a few times before hand but you never answered, maybe this was you calling him back? 

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw?” A woman who sounded more panicked than calm spoke—needing a confirmation before continuing with her call. 

“This is he?” Bradley responded, turning back to Jake with a confused look on his face, eyes glancing up at the time. Five thirty in the afternoon. You should have been home an hour ago. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, we’ve just had a one Y/n Bradshaw admitted.” The woman on the other end of the phone call Bradley almost didn’t answer, explained. “Your wife, she’s unfortunately been involved in a severe accident and—“ Bradley didn’t hear the rest of what the nurse had to say as he dropped his phone, it clunked and clambered from the kitchen bench to the tiled floor below. “Hello? Mr Bradshaw?” Unable to process the news he’d just been told Bradley began to panic as his vision tunnel and his mind went numb. 

“Jake—“ Was it Bradley’s fault? Was he a terrible husband for not noticing how long you’d been gone? Was there something wrong with your car? You’d mentioned a time or two that the air conditioning had been making a funny noise. “Jake I can’t breathe—“ Bradley clutched at his chest as he groaned, it felt like his entire world was collapsing around him. “I can’t fucking breathe.” 

“Oh-okay, yeah we’re leaving right now.” Jake confirmed as he spoke to the lady on the phone. Hangman had picked up the phone Rooster had dropped, he listened to what the woman on the other end of the line had to say as Bradley started to sob, losing his grip on reality. 

Jake reached out to touch Bradley’s shoulder in an attempt to confront the aviator who’s world had just shattered into a million pieces, the moment he did though Jake Seresin witnessed his best friend collapse down to his knees in unimaginable pain at the thought of losing you. His girl. His wife. His best friend. The love of his life. The mother of...oh god the mother of his child. 

“Rooster we gotta g—“

“I can’t lose her!!” Bradley screamed as warm tears drenching his flushed face. “Can’t—won't lose her. I can’t!” Jake knew Bradley was hyperventilating, he’d seen a panic attack a time or two before when Bob had stayed in his spare room while his house was being painted. Jake also knew a panic attack when he saw one because he got them too. But this? This was a panic attack shrouded in heartache, one Jake would never understand. 

“Hey, hey Rooster.” Jake crouched down before his wingman— knowing he needed all the strength he could get. On the inside Jake was a mess. If Bradley lost you that meant Jake lost you too. Holding the back of Bradley’s head as he leaned in. “Listen man, this is so fucked up but she needs you, Y/n needs you to be there for her because she can’t do this alone? Alright? We gotta go— you’re her husband Rooster.” Jake reminded him. “Y/n needs her husband to be there for her okay? In sickness and in health you promised her.” 

Bradkey sobbed uncontrollably—but he got up. Knowing Hangman was right. You needed him, and like fuck was he gonna let you slip through his fingers. 

“Okay, okay let’s go.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

It’s needless to say Bradley Bradshaw was a mess—a sobbing, shaking, totally exhausted figment of his former stoic self in the private waiting room nurses had told him to wait in. Jake contacted your mum and dad, he called Mav and Penny too who were already on their way over to the Miramar Base Hospital because hell was Mav somewhat sob going to go through this alone. 

“We don’t know what’s going on.” Bradley could just faintly hear Jake on the phone with Phoenix as he sat and twisted his wedding band around his ring finger. It kept him grounded but the tangible reminder of your love did nothing to stop Rooster's mind from thinking of the very worst. 

“We haven’t been told a single thing—“ Jake sighed as he ran his hand through his sun kissed hair locks. “No, no he’s not in a good way.” 

Bradley could hear only Jake's voice and only his answers. But he knew Phoenix would be going stir crazy not know what had happened or what was going on, they all would be. Every single member of Bradley’s naval squadron had become like family to you both. Extensions on the small albeit perfect family you were just starting. 

Bradley thought he knew heartbreak, thought he’d been through pain. He’d lost his dad when he was just shy of three years old and his mother just after his seventh birthday. But nothing—nothing, compared to the heartache of not knowing what was happening to you. If you were alive, if your baby was okay? If Rooster had just lost his young family before it had a chance to grow old. 

“Lieutenant Bradshaw?” An older looking woman in scrubs asked as she knocked. Both Bradley and Jake looked up—both just as desperate for answers. “Hi” She cooed. “My names Jannette, I’ve been with your wife since she came in—“

“H-how is she?” Bradley could barely speak at this point, he was too afraid to know but needed answers. Although he’d stood from the chair he’d been perched in he still twirled his wedding band around his finger. He still needed that tangible reminder. You loved him, no matter what the outcome was you would always love him. To the moon and back and twice over you’d say before he left for deployments. 

In all Bradley’s years he always thought he’d be the one leaving you behind—he never once thought his wife that cut and arranged flowers for a living would leave him, the naval aviator who flew super hornets for a living. But here he stood in some twisted parallel universe that felt like a plot ripped straight from an episode of the twilight zone. 

“She’s critical, my colleagues are still working on her as we speak.” The room went silent as Bradley forgot how to breathe. Jake was by his side in seconds. “It's touch and go.” 

“My baby? How’s my baby?” If anything mattered to you, it was your unborn child. Bradley knew if anything happened to them that you'd never forgive yourself. You’d rather die than live a life without your baby. You’d done everything in your power to make sure they had the best chance of being strong and healthy and safe. You’d been the perfect mother. 

“She” The nurse smiled. “Is okay, we did however have to do an emergency c-section because your wife was unfortunately not able to carry her to full turn due to her uterus filling with blood.” It was a whirlwind of emotions. Bradley Bradshaw was suddenly a father, he had a baby girl. 

“Rooster, you have a little girl.” Jake helped Bradley take a few agonising steps as he took in the news. You’d given him a baby girl. A tiny little you. How could he ever thank you enough? How could he ever begin to repay that debt of gratitude, of love? 

“You can see her if you’d like? She’s in the NICU.” Jannette explained. “But you won’t be able to touch her without protection until she’s used to the new environment, premature babies can catch infections and colds despite our best efforts, so it’s best she says in the incubation chamber.”

“C’mon Bradshaw, let's go meet your little girl, yeah? You know Y/n wouldn’t want her left alone.” Jake was right. Bradley could hear everything going on around him but he couldn’t speak. He was still taking all this in. He was a dad, a girl dad. He was the father to your daughter and you weren’t here to see him start this new chapter. 

God it was bittersweet. 

“When will I know how my wife is?” Bradley asked as he followed the nurse he towered over—she had a little waddle that Jake couldn’t help but notice. 

“You’ll be the first to know her updated condition, Lieutenant, but from what I’ve seen so far your wife is one hell of a fighter, not a lot of people in her condition would’ve come out of that alive.”

Braduheld onto that tiny shred of hope, clung to it for dear life as he followed the nurse to meet his baby’s girl—way too early. How do you introduce yourself to a baby? Jake was right beside him. Do you think Jake Seresin would ever let his wingman walk alone through such a tragedy? 

Absolutely not. 

“Bradley, this is your daughter, obviously she doesn’t have a name so we called her Jane as protocol - short for Jane Doe.” The little girl was so incredibly tiny. She was dwarfed by wires and tubes connected all over her tiny body helping her little lungs breathe. Bradley couldn’t distinguish if she looked more like you or him. But fuck he wished she looked like you. He took a seat next to the incubator that held his bundle of joy. The joy he’d been blessed with by you. The joy and light of his world he’d helped create, a blend of you and him. 

“H-hey little one.” Rooster struggled to talk. “I’m your Dadda, your mums in a little bit of a situation right now but I’ve got you yeah?” Tears ran down Bradley’s face as he placed a fingertip against the glass. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, ever.” 

Rooster always said he’d never love anyone more than he’d love you—but this little girl? God she was already Bradley’s entire fucking world. For a single second he forgot you were in surgery. Watching as your daughter's tiny lips curled into a soft smile of a mere second. Bradley liked to think it was her acknowledging his presents. 

“Bradley?” Jannette interrupted, Bradley had forgotten all sense of time as he sat with his baby girl. “It’s your wife—she’s stable, sleeping but stable. She’s being moved to the ICU for around the clock observation.”

“When can I Uh, when can I see her?” Bradley let out a sob as he thanked the heavens above, his little family was okay—not great, not thriving with heath, but okay. Stable. Jake finally allowed himself to breathe for the first time all night. 

“We can go up there if you like?” Bradley nodded in response—looking over at Jake who already knew what his wingman was about to ask. 

“I’ll stay here, keep her company, go get your girl Rooster.” Jake hugged Bradley as tight as he ever had before. “You’re a dad man, congratulations.” Being the big brother Bradley needed but didn’t have. “I got you brother.”

Bradley didn’t know what to do when he first saw you—he stood at the doorway just staring at the women who had given him everything. So injured, so hurt. And he couldn’t do anything to help ease your pain. Even through all the injuries, tubs and wires, much like the little girl you gave precious life to, you still look beautiful. So gorgeous, so at peace. 

A soft “oh god” escaped Bradley’s mouth as he held back sobs walking towards you. Nurse Jannette giving him the space he so desperately needed with you. Bradley took in the sight before him. His beautiful wife, mother of his daughter, laying so lifeless in a hospital bed. He wished so bad you could be at home with him right now, tangled in the warm sheets, smiling and being your “happy go lucky” self instead of here. He wished so badly he could take you anywhere else in the world. 

Anywhere but here—like this. 

“Hey beautiful.” Bradley whispered. Biting his bottom lip to stop himself from breaking down for what felt like the one hundredth time tonight. “You don’t know it yet but you’re a mama, and dammit baby you’ll be the best fucking mum on earth.” Bradley grabbed the nearby seat and pulled it close. Once his hand was in yours there was no place else Rooster wanted to be then right by your side. Although he wished the two of you could be anywhere else together. 

“You’re gonna be okay baby, maybe not today or next week? But you’ll be okay. I won’t let you be anything but okay.” Bradley mumbled through soft sobs as he took notice of every injury that plagued your body. Every cut, stitch, wrap and blood stained patch that littered the soft and supple skin he loved so much. Bradley especially noticed the gash on your cheek—stitched. 

As Rooster sat with you, he could see your eyelids moving. He knew you were conscious, just sleeping. Heavily medicated, he knew you could hear every word he spoke. But soon Bradley Bradshaw watched in awe as you placed your hand over your stomach. Checking to see if your little spud was alright. When you noticed how small your stomach felt you moaned. 

“My—my baby?” Your eyes weren’t even open yet and you already knew something was terribly wrong. Even if your entire body was in agonising pain you needed to make sure your baby was alright. 

“Hey shh, shh, shh, I got you.” Bradley cooed, his hand gently reaching out to cup your cheek—the side without any noticeable injuries that would bring you discomfort. “She’s alright mama, she’s here a little early but she’s okay—j-just like you yeah.” 

“She?” Your eyes opened slowly at the sound of your husband’s voice—your neck killed as you turned to face him. Giving up quickly. Bradley was quick to notice the wince you let out. 

“She mama, our little girl. Both my girls gave me a pretty big heart attack this afternoon huh? Are you trying to kill me honey?” Bradley smiled. Noticing how you smiled back for a brief moment before the muscles in your cheeks gave up. 

“I’m so sorry” You whispered—eyes closed again as you couldn’t stand the light of the room. “I don’t know what happened— no one came though.” You started to cry. “No one came when I called for help for so long.” Bradley leaning in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m here, I came, I’m not going anywhere my love.” Rooster sobbed back, sometimes being strong meant crying along with the ones you love. “God I thought I lost you.” 

“He said it wasn’t my time to go.” You sighed, clearly fighting off the urge to fall asleep. So groggy from the medicine that even the thought of being a mother hadn’t truly set in yet—all you cared about was that your baby was safe. She was alive. 

“Who did bub? One of the paramedics?” Bradley asked, a little confused as he pushed hair away from your face and made sure the oxygen tube was sitting just right. 

“He was in the car, said I couldn’t leave you yet, that you’d be lost without me.” You softly grinned while your eyes rested. “Had a moustache just like yours.” 

Bradley sat back in shock as he watched you drift back to sleep. Holding your hand thinking how the universe worked in mysterious ways. Bradley had promised to love you in good times and in bad - through sickness and in health. He’d live in the damn hospital if he had to—anything to be by your side. 

“God I hate it when he does this.” Goose groaned as he watched his son’s name appear on the shattered phone on the floor of your busted up car. “You’re not ready, it’s not your time so why bother even putting your through this crap.” The man spoke as you fell unconscious. “It’s not your time my dear and my son certainly needs you by his side or he’ll go crazy.” You listened, tried to nod, smile, anything to let him know you heard him. “You’ll be alright kid.”

Bradley Bradshaw had his family. He had his daughter, he had you. Going back and forth with Jake from room to room watching as both his girls slept. Both of you were still so unaware of the turmoil Bradley had been through. He nearly lost you. Without you? Bradley would’ve been helpless. 

But someone watching over him knew that as well as he did. A guardian angel not only watched over him....

But over his girls too.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

#bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradleybradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst

[thewulf]

My Treasure || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - I need a Bradley x reader or Jake x reader based on the quote, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first.” Some angst to fluff goodness maybe

A/N: Ahh thank you for the request! You guys always have the best. Hope you enjoy some good old angst/fluff! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 1.7k +

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you watched the small tea candle burn out without a trace of Bradley. It was the sixth time in as many nights that he had let you down. He’d promised you he would be home tonight in time for dinner. You’d gotten ready, decided to look cute for him and cooked his favorite meal. You were excited at the thought of reconnecting with your long-time boyfriend. It had gotten hard before, sure, but this distance was like nothing you’d felt before in the years you had been together. It felt like your worst fears were coming true, he was pulling away from you. Planning to leave you.

With a huff you left the uneaten food on the table for him to see when he got home. You weren’t planning to be there. You called your mom with tears flowing letting her know you were planning to stay with her for the next few nights. She didn’t question a thing and told you your room would be ready. She’d have time to pester later, you needed her not to right now.

In a rush you through your clothes haphazardly into an overnight bag. You’d have to figure out your living situation later. In your haste you hadn’t heard the front door open and close. Or his curse downstairs. Nor his heavy footsteps on the stairs as he walked up to your shared bedroom. You’d only noticed him when he placed a hand on your shoulder sending you into a slight panic as he startled you.

His head cocked to the side in confusion seeing you bag, “Hon, what’re you doing?” He squatted so he was eye level with you.

“To my mom’s.” You turned back to your packing doing your best to ignore the confused man who really shouldn’t be giving you the look he was, or you were going to snap. How could he not have a clue?

He knew he had messed up when you shrugged off his touch, “Why would you do that? We have to eat the dinner you made.”

You shook your head, “It’s cold Bradley.”

He scrunched his nose looking over at you, “I can warm it up hon.” He tried to offer a simple solution to the scowl you were giving off to him.

“That’s not the point.” You were biting your tongue and even he knew that. He wasn’t that clueless, and you knew that.

“I’m sorry I was late… time just got away from us…” He paused seeing you weren’t listening to him. You were going to snap, and you knew it. Why was he out if he knew he was supposed to be home tonight? Why didn’t he seem to care about you?

You looked at him with a sadness he had missed so many times before, “I asked you for one thing Bradley. I’ve asked you for one thing for weeks. I just wanted a night with you.”

He frowned immediately, “I’m so sorry honey. This mission has just been hell. I didn’t want to take it out on you…”

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” You turned to him, standing now. You were irritated. Tired of second guessing yourself, “I’ve been seemingly by myself for the last four weeks Bradley! Do you know how fucking lonely that is? Do you know how I’ve been rattling my damn brain to try and figure out what the hell was going on with you? Did I do something? I’m tired. I’m going to my mom’s. Now move.” He had stood as you ranted at his inaction. He’d never seen you so agitated and heated. You were his calm and collected girl. He really must’ve done a number on you without even realizing it.

“Baby I’m…” You were in no state to hear him out. You’d made up your mind and that was that.

“I followed you across the country.” You let a tear roll down your cheek, “I thought we’d be happy here. My mom lives here. It’s been nothing short of miserable.” You tried moving around him, but he kept stepping in front of you.

“Move Bradley.” You felt that similar irritation bubble up once more.

He shook his head, “Afraid I can’t honey.”

Letting out a breath of frustration you felt the tears welling up once more, “Move!” You yelled at him when he blocked you once more.

“I’m not letting you drive like this Y/N.” He spoke calm and steady now trying his best to reach you in your distressed state.

“Then leave me alone.” You huffed pushing on his chest trying your best to push him out of the room.

“No, let’s talk about this.”

You let out the sob you’d been holding back before exploding on him. You’d really tried your hardest, but you were tired, and it was hurting you to look at him, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first!” You knew it’d hurt him and that’s exactly what you were aiming for, as much pain as you could inflict. Sure, it was childish. But you finally got your point across.

“Baby no.” He shook his head, “That’s not true. Please don’t say that. Please.” He took a step towards you. But you took a step back. He got the hint and let you be.

“You keep saying things but it’s like you can’t stand me anymore Bradley! I don’t know what I’ve done.” You backed up and sat down on your shared mattress. Leaning down you let your head fall into your hands as you finally let yourself cry it out. You finally let all the emotions you’d been holding back come out fully. You’d been making yourself feel crazy and he hadn’t even had a clue anything was wrong.

You felt his hand on your back as he sat down next to you. The felt the dip of the mattress as he did so. This time you didn’t shrug him off or run away. He wasn’t going to let you. He knew your automatic reaction was to run and hide and deal with it on your own. He promised you he wouldn’t let that happen anymore. He was going to be there for you. In whatever capacity you needed. And now you needed to talk for you’d been keeping it in. Bradley wasn’t clueless but he also wasn’t a mind reader. He never ever dreamed of hurting you. His favorite girl. His favorite human. His very best friend. His heart ached as your body wracked and sobbed. He never wanted to see you cry let alone be the reason for the salty tears.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around to even notice this. Work has been… tough. I’m not supposed to tell you this but we’re being tasked with a pretty dangerous mission. One that somebody may not come back from. I don’t want to tell you this to freak you out but I’ve been worried. I have to come home to you. I am making sure of that. And I’ve done that by neglecting you. Please, you have to believe me. We’re not out drinking. We’re prepping, strategizing. Trying to figure how in the hell we’re all coming home.” His voice trailed off as your red eyes and cheeks turned up to him in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Your voice was horse from the crying you’d allowed of yourself.

“It’s classified.” He answered quickly, “I can’t risk getting you in trouble honey. But I should’ve warned you. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded contemplating his words. You knew he was being nothing but sincere and it was you who was overreacting. A flush of embarrassment rose from your chest as you realized it was a big miscommunication between the two of you. It was odd because you were usually so in sync, but you brushed it off.

“I am too. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

He took your chin in his hands, “You didn’t. You’re just reacting because you care. I’m sorry I pushed you away. You have to know you’re never my second choice. Everything I do is for you. Sometimes I lose sight of it thought.” He smiled sheepishly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. You shuddered over his gentle touch.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled letting your eyes close under his gentle gaze.

He hummed brushing his hands along your lips, “I disagree.”

Your eyes opened to look right into his once more. Even after all this time your heart still hammered in your chest when he looked at you like that, “I love you.”

That smile was one you always adored seeing on him, “And I love you my favorite girl.” He kissed your other cheek this time, “I’m sorry I ignored your asks. It won’t happen again.” He smirked right on over at you. Gosh, he really couldn’t believe he was about to let you slip away without even realizing it. He really needed to pull back at work every now and then. He should’ve known you were too kind to complain about him always being gone. He’d ignored your requests for time alone taking you for granted. You’d used your words like he’d asked, and he still managed to mess it up.

“It’s okay.” You nuzzled your head into his hand enjoying his comfort after being apart for so long. Sure he had been here, but he wasn’t really present.

He shook his head, “It’s really not. I’m lucky to have you honey.” He kissed your forehead slowly. Letting his lips linger as he pulled you into his lap, “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let your hands trace along his face smiling brightly as he looked down at you.

He let out a long sigh letting himself just hold you in his arms, “My treasure.” He whispered before finally meeting

You giggled more to yourself when your lips parted, “You’re so cheesy Bradley Bradshaw.”

He nodded giving your side a squeeze, “And you love it.”

You let yourself melt into him feeling all the tension release from your body, “That I do.”

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem

#bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw #rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x oc #rooster fanfic #rooster teeth #top gun fandom #rooster #rooster fighter #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster blurb

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Mamma Mia | Masterlist

summary: Going back to your hometown for a summer sounded like a good plan before you started your graduate program, what you didn’t count on was having three whirlwind romances with Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, and Bradley ‘Rooster’Bradshaw. And much less, that you would end up pregnant by the end of the summer after they all graduated Top Gun and left. Six years later, Rooster, Hangman, and Bob are called back for a mission and they see you again. Now, with a six-year-old daughter that somehow they think looks exactly like them.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, smut 18+, raising a child alone. warnings will be added as the story progresses.

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw masterlist

jake 'hangman' seresin masterlist

playlist

prologue | chapter one | chapter two| chapter three | chapter four* | chapter five | chapter six (scheduled a week from now- read early on my KO-FII!!!)

updates on monday, wednesday, friday

also, smut:*

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw headcanon #rooster x you #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #rooster x y/n #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #hangman angst #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #glen powell #miles teller #miles teller smut #top gun spoilers #top gun pilots #top gun smut #bob floyd

[roosterbruiser]

would you perhaps be able to do “please talk to me” from the angst list with bradley?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

when Rooster wakes up, he doesn't get even one moment of normalcy. usually when he wakes up beside your sprawled figure, he peppers your shoulders with lazy kisses. then slink out of bed, brushes his teeth, slips into his tennis shoes, and goes for a run down the shoreline. sometimes he even watches the sunrise there, panting, taking an earbud out to hear the gulls caw. sometimes he'll even grab smoothies for the both of you on his way home, and hop in the shower as you finally woke up, lips wrapped half-heartedly around a neon straw.

but you're not in bed when his eyes flicker open for the first time today. your side of the bed is crumpled, cold. you've been out of bed for a while.

the morning light is gray--not an early morning gray, but an endless slate. one that means rain, probably.

he glances at the clock, head muddled from his deep sleep, and sees that it's almost 11am. he sits up, brows furrowed, and feels that hollowness grow inside of him immediately. it's like a jolt--something that infects wholly and completely immediately.

oh. his body is reminding him.

today is November 7th.

how could he forget?

instead of jumping out of bed like he usually does, which is a habit he vaguely remembers his father having, he allows his shoulders to slump and his chest deflate. he sinks back into the covers, feels his eyes grow heavy, and pulls the blankets up beneath his chin.

there are two days of the year that Bradley lets himself stay in bed all day: July 29th and today. the anniversary of both of his parents deaths.

you're trying to balance this goddamn tray of food as you walk up the stairs in your monkey slippers, cursing yourself for settling so many beverages on here. does Bradley really need three choices?

whatever, you think. he'll have his pick of the litter at least.

the bedroom door is cracked just enough for you to carefully back your elbow into--just enough for you to step into the room in near-silence except for the shivering glass on the metal tray in your hands.

honestly, you're expecting Bradley to be asleep still. he slept in on that hot day in July, didn't say much at all, just pressed his face against your belly and let M*A*S*H reruns play all day. after, you'd felt guilty; you hadn't done much to make him feel better, stupefied from being this close to such palpable grief. your only prerogative was being there for him, which is how you ended up staying beneath the sheets despite the heat.

but you find Rooster's knit brows and glossy eyes immediately. in your spot in the doorway, you freeze, then grin.

"well, good morning, merry sunshine!" you say softly. "how'd you sleep?"

Bradley's just staring at you, eyes moving from the tray and back up to your wanton gaze as he slowly begins to sit up against the headboard.

"fine," he tells you.

"thought you'd still be asleep," you tell him, shuffling to the bedside carefully. "hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! and I hope you're hungry, 'cause I made a little bit of everything."

Rooster, stunned, just watches you with his hands in his lap. you're wearing his class t-shirt from high school and an old pair of cotton underwear, your eyes bleary and your hair untouched. but all the same, you're grinning at him, nodding for him to move his hands from his lap.

"for your drink selection, we've got coffee, orange juice, and a strawnana smoothie--if you're feeling frisky. for our meats we've got turkey bacon, Impossible Sausage, regular bacon, and--well, are eggs meat? no, right? okay, moving on," you say, shrugging as you point to all the foods as you list. "then we've got scrambled eggs--lots of cheddar cheese and no sage this time, okay? I won't do that ever again, baby, I promise!" you press a lewd and sweet kiss to his forehead before continuing. "and then we've got two pieces of French toast with maple syrup--like that healthy kind you like, the one that gets, like, milked from the trees or whatever. we've also got a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with the sprinkles I know you like but you won't admit it, so we'll say that I like sprinkles in my pancakes! and then the usual suspects--grapefruit, cinnamon oatmeal, sliced apples, grits. pick your poison!"

and that is when Bradley suddenly lets his head tip forward, tears spurring from his eyes suddenly as if a spice had been broken.

oh fuck. this isn't what you meant to happen.

"baby?" you ask tentatively, holding the back of his head with a frown planted on your lips. "I was just kidding about the sprinkles."

with his face angled down, he can see those stupid monkey slippers on your feet. he can see the eggs you made just right, leaving out the sage you sometimes like to sneak in. he can see the different beverages and the rainbow sprinkles. he can even see the sly nibble you took out of his French toast.

he is totally and completely overwhelmed--but it isn't by grief right now. it's love. love and affection and honey and everything else in the world that is sweet and perfect.

"talk to me, baby," you whisper, shuffling to move the tray from his lap and sitting on the bed. he immediately lets his face fall on your shoulder, choking on his sobs. "please."

November 7th was the worst day of his life--one of them, at least. it was when his mother let go, moved on, left him behind. he remembers how peaceful it was when she was gone: all the monitors turned off, the IV drips empty, her face slacked and serene. and he remembers being so angry about it all--why did she have to go to be okay again?

but now it's November 7th and he's eating breakfast in bed and you're in your monkey slippers and those old panties and stroking his hair. he feels entirely swollen with it--love.

"I love you so much," he tells you, unable to put it any differently. "and I really do like sprinkles in my pancakes."

the knot in your throat dissipates at his words. you never push him to talk about his grief--only nurture it when he trusts you enough to speak on it.

so, you kiss his head a few times, hold him against you.

"that was really brave of you to admit," you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs through his tears, sniffling, tracing your spine with his fingers delicately.

"I know," he sniffles. not so subtly, he wipes his nose on your tee. you don't mind it one bit. "you're my best friend."

"me?" you whisper, voice thin with emotion. but you know that you can't start crying, too. so, you clear your throat. "you must be a real loser then."

he laughs weakly, inhaling all that sleep on your skin.

"yeah," he agrees. "I must."

#rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw series #bradley bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw blurb #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw one shot #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fanfiction #m answers #drabbles

[jupitercomet]

The Starry Night

summary - You’re not enough for him because of something you can’t even control. And if he truly felt that way, you wish he would have never started anything with you in the first place.

“Fuck you, Bradley.” You seethe, turning to the bedroom with a finality. Your hand wraps around the door knob before you stop yourself. “You know, for a guy who hates making mistakes he has to apologize for, you’re really fucking good at it.”

or

Bradley’s always been good at saying things he doesn’t mean, and maybe this one he can’t take back.

warnings - age gap relationship (Bradley is 38, reader is 25), language, angst, references to mental illness, listen the lock thing is a bit of a stretch but plot > realism

word count - 3.5k

part two   i ain’t worried ‘bout it masterlist

“Would you stop?” Bradley follows you out of the Bronco as you slam the passenger door “You’re being—” He cuts himself off and you whirl around.

“What? I’m being what, Bradley?” You spit the words out like venom. “Please, enlighten me.”

Bradley kisses his teeth with his tongue. “You’re being childish.”

Even though you knew the words were coming, it takes a second for them to hit and you laugh hollowly. “Right.” Tears prick at your waterline. “I’m being childish because I’m upset my boyfriend ignored me the entire night.”

“Oh, is that what you call slamming car doors and throwing a tantrum? Being ‘upset’?”

You purse your lips trying to hold back the angry tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks as you open the front door. You don’t really want to hash all of this out in front of Bradley’s neighbors—the last thing you need is to make tonight more embarrassing.

Bradley scoffs. “What? Are you ignoring me now?” He follows you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him as you rip your sandals off.

Whipping around again, you fully intend to bite his head off, but you stop yourself, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think I can be around you right now. Because I know I’m going to say something I don’t mean and I don’t want to do that. We should talk about this when we’ve both calmed down.”

With that, you walk out of the foyer and turn with every intention of get out of your sundress and take a long, destressing shower—

“That’s fucking bullshit.” Bradley’s words have you freezing in the hallway. “I’m so sick of you doing this whole thing where you act like you’re better than me.”

You look at him incredulously. “How am I acting like I’m better than you?”

“Because you’re so smart and you never get mad, right? You’re too good to fight with me, and I’m always the one who makes mistakes and gets angry and has to apologize!”

“Are you seriously mad at me for being a healthy communicator?” Your eyebrows jump in disbelief.

“You’re not!” Bradley’s voice has finally risen to a shout. “You’re not a healthy communicator, you run away from confrontation. Deciding that we’ll just never fight isn’t being a healthy communicator.”

You don’t understand how Bradley can misconstrued your intentions so much, but the heat of the setting San Diego sun and the embarrassment and hurt radiating off of you makes you more desperate than proactive. “I am not running away! I just know that we’re both angry right now and that isn’t going to solve anything. I don’t want one of us to say something we can’t take back.”

“You’re the one who started this in the first place! You can’t just accuse me of shit and then leave.”

“You know what? Fine. If you wanna fight, we can fight. You ignored me the entire night, Bradley! To talk to your ex-girlfriend. In what capacity do you think that’s appropriate?” You take a step towards him, your bare feet planting on the hardwood. 

Bradley scoffs. “I did not ignore you. And last time I checked, you can’t dictate who I talk to. She came up to me and said hi, do you really expect me to just pretend she isn’t there?”

“No, but I expect you to try and bring me into the conversation, or notice when I leave, or not let her be all over you,” you list on your fingers accusingly. “You didn’t even fucking introduce me as your girlfriend! And I just had to sit there the whole time feeling like you were ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Oh, come on—”

You narrow your eyes. “I wasn’t finished, Bradley. You made me feel like you didn’t want your ex-girlfriend to know that you’re now with a woman a decade younger than you! That it’s embarrassing to move on from someone like her to someone like me—”

“Well, when you act like this, it is!” Bradley’s mouth closes as soon as he tastes the words on his tongue but it’s too late, they’ve already been said.

They hang in the air and you honestly don’t think Bradley could have said something more hurtful to you if he tried. You feel pathetic in the salmon colored sundress you’d been so excited to wear to Bradley’s high school reunion—the dress he’d been so excited to see you in just a handful of hours prior—like a little girl playing dress up. 

Bradley’s embarrassed of you. Enough so that he let you stand there, all by yourself, as fellow members of his graduating class made disgusting jokes about how “you must be lost, sweetheart, the school’s closed for current students” that you had to laugh along at uncomfortably, while he let some woman hang off his arm because she looks better there than you do. You’re not enough for him because of something you can’t even control. And if he truly felt that way, you wish he would have never started anything with you in the first place.

“Fuck you, Bradley.” You seethe, turning to the bedroom with a finality. Your hand wraps around the door knob before you stop yourself. “You know, for a guy who hates making mistakes he has to apologize for, you’re really fucking good at it.” For the second time that night, you slam the door closed behind you.

You cry for a good hour and a half, rolled over on Bradley’s side of the bed, his pillow held to your chest as you curl up on your side. The bedroom door is locked and Bradley has made no attempt to enter the room yet. Your salmon sundress is a puddle on the floor, you can’t be bothered to hang it up—you don’t know if you even want to wear it again.

By now, you’ve stopped crying, maybe you’ve simply run out of tears. You just hold Bradley’s pillow and stare at the wall blankly. Your head’s a tornado, ripping up every memory of you and Bradley and swirling them around in this unsure windstorm. It tears apart each one, looking at the mangled pieces for anything that could reaffirm what Bradley had so kindly let you know tonight. That he’s ashamed of you. That you embarrass him. That, to him, you’re just a kid.

“Honey?” Suddenly there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door and you tense. “Can… Can I come in?”

Bradley waits several minutes, but you don’t say anything—you don’t even move. You hear him let out a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry, I should have never— You were just trying to handle this maturely and you were right, I wasn’t ready to talk. I— I should have never said that to you and I swear I didn’t even mean it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

You want to hate him, in some twisted way it makes it all easier. Because you hate feeling like this—like there’s something you’re missing, like you’re the outsider to an inside joke you just can’t understand. And you didn’t used to feel this way, not before Bradley. You didn’t feel like you were running in a race where everyone else had a head start. A race you didn’t even ask to be in.

But you do it anyway because you love Bradley. You put up with people looking down on you like you’re some little girl who doesn’t know better, who couldn’t possibly have anything to offer Bradley intellectually and emotionally. You feel like you constantly have to prove to everyone that you’re worthy of being in a relationship with him. And maybe you aren’t. Because if he’s so quick to use your age against you whenever it’s convenient, then there’s nothing you could ever do that would be enough for him. You’re too young and you’re not enough for him.

You hear what sounds like Bradley sucking in a breath as he tries again. “You’re unique in all the world to me.”

And that’s what does it. Eight words, so quiet and hopeful, and your heart breaks in two. You burst into tears so suddenly it surprises even you as you bury your head into Bradley’s pillow. It’s the gross, intense kind of crying with hiccuped breath, and puffy cheeks, and a nose that won’t stop running as tears wet Bradley’s pillowcase.

“Honey? Shit—” The door knob jiggles as Bradley’s voice rises in panic. “Princess, I know you’re mad at me, but please let me in. I can’t—” 

Maybe you are childish and immature, just a kid throwing a tantrum all because someone wasn’t nice to her. Because you don’t want to open the door for Bradley, even though you know you should. You just want to cry and feel sorry for yourself until this feeling goes away. You just want Bradley hurt the same way he hurt you.

You hear the door knob jiggle again and, in the back of your head, you recall something about Bradley once learning how to pick locks—something about growing up with “Uncle Mav”. Bradley confirms it when the door clicks open suddenly and he rushes into the room, but you can’t even bring yourself to care anymore, unable to do anything but sob into his pillow.

“Oh, honey,” Bradley drops to his knees, gently coaxing his pillow from your grip so that he can pull you into his arms. He maneuvers you both so that he’s sitting on the bed, back resting against the headboard while you cry into his chest. “I’m so, so sorry, pretty girl.”

And you know that he is. From the second it left his lips, you knew he was sorry. But it doesn’t change the fact that he said it. That either, even just for a second, he meant it or he knew that it would hurt you and he wanted it to.

Something soft brushes your hand and you grab for it before you fully realize what it is. “You, um, you left him on the couch, I thought…” Bradley doesn’t finish his whispered thought, watching as you cry painfully into Pooh’s fur.

He doesn’t know what to do—and it frustrates Bradley to no end because he feels like he never does. But you’re letting him hold you and Bradley knows he has no right to ask for more, so that’s what he does. And his heart breaks with every strangled breath you let out, every tremor of your body as you unleash everything you’ve been feeling for the past 7 months. 

Bradley just keeps whispering how sorry he is. How he didn’t mean it—how he’d never mean it. He wants nothing more than to take it back. Because the more he sits with you, the more he starts to think that he might have just pushed you a step too far to pull you back from.

One thing that has always been like a breath of fresh air to Bradley is your emotional maturity. You’re healthy. Bradley’s always been a bit hotheaded, always saying things just to say them, only to hate himself after. But you’re clear, even when you’re angry. You treat Bradley with respect and you show him how to do that too. You communicate and you do your best to honestly understand where he’s coming from. And, if things ever do go too far, you still try to work through it because you love him more than you’re mad at him and he loves you more than he’s mad at you too.

But right now, no matter how much he tries, he can’t coax words out of you. Even after you stop crying, you stare at the wall wordlessly. Bradley’s not entirely sure you hear him, your entire body unresponsive. You’re letting him hold you, but maybe that’s just because there’s nothing left in you to fight him on that too.

“Honey?” Again, he calls out to you, because he’s so used to you letting him clean up his messes. He’s so used to feeling like you think he’s worth fixing things.

Because you’re so much better than Bradley in that way, you think about his feelings so effortlessly. And sometimes he resents that. That you love him so good, it sometimes makes him feel bad. Why is it so easy for you to love him the right way when he can go an entire night making you feel insufficient and not even realize it?

Sometimes Bradley feels like you’re too mature for him. Like you understand things that he doesn’t and you know things that he never learned—you are smarter than him. And sometimes Bradley’s pride can’t take it, because he wants to be that person. Who understands his emotions so easily and articulates them like he walked out of a self-help book. Instead, he’s the person who has to watch all his flaws and mistakes turn you into an empty, indifferent husk. He’s the person who says things and then has to listen to you cry.

“Please, princess, can you talk to me?” Bradley hates this. He hates knowing he hurt you, but not what’s going on in your head. He hates that he has no idea how to fix it. “You can yell at me. Call me an asshole. Just—” There’s a soft crack in his voice and his eyes water. “Talk to me please.”

He thinks that surely you’ll say something. He’s begging now, and you’ve both had time to think, and you never like leaving fights unresolved. But you say nothing, still staring numbly at his wall. Bradley feels his heart drop to his stomach.

He knows what he said was wrong and hurtful, he knows that. But this time, it almost feels different, like he’s fucked up in a way he hasn’t fully realized yet. Because you don’t do the silent treatment. You talk to Bradley or, if you feel like you can’t, you tell him as much. You’ve never ignored Bradley out of spite. So this can’t be spite—Bradley feels like it’s something worse.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to hate being in my 20s this much.” Your voice finally comes out, small and sniffly, a hollow sound as you continue staring at the wall.

Bradley swallows thickly. “What— What do you mean, honey?”

“I’m just really tired,” you continue and it’s like you don’t even hear him. “Of having to be perfect all the time so you’ll be proud of me.”

“Princess, I am proud—”

“I’m tired of having to impress your friends even though they act more immature than I do. And I go to all these stupid things with you, and I let them talk over me, and belittle me, and make me feel like a child… What did I do to deserve that?” Your voice wobbles, breaking at the end, and Bradley tightens his grip around you.

“Nothing. Honey, you didn’t do anything to deserve that,” Bradley assures you, his own voice wavering. “And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t realize that you were feeling this way—”

“You make me wish I were older. I think I’d be enough for you if I were older.”

Bradley feels sick, shaking his head vigorously as tears prick his waterline. “No. No, you’re enough for me now, honey. Don’t say that, please— How can I fix this? Just let me fix this.”

“I’m tired, Bradley. I want to go to bed,” you sigh.

“I don’t want you to go to bed feeling like this,” Bradley’s tentative with how he argues with you, but it’s almost scary to hear you sound so numb and exhausted, so indifferent to the idea of him, like maybe he isn’t worth all the trouble of loving. “Can… Can we talk some more? Or— Or I can talk and—”

“I just want to sleep.”

And after everything he’s put you through tonight, Bradley can’t ask you for more. So he relents, letting you roll off him and get settled in his side of the bed. Your back is facing him as Bradley wordlessly takes your side. He watches as your middle rises and falls, unable to take his eyes off you but too afraid to hold you like he wants to. 

Your breath evens out relatively quickly, Bradley’s watching you so intently he can pinpoint the exact moment you fall asleep. His mind is too restless to follow suit though, too focused on replaying every moment of the night. Why hadn’t he noticed how uncomfortable you were tonight? Why had he spent the whole night talking to Hannah without realizing he’d left you on your own? Why couldn’t he have just said he was sorry, instead of making everything worse?

Bradley gets up, careful to make sure he doesn’t disturb you. You cried a lot, he reasons, you’d probably want some water when you woke up. And Bradley’s too restless. He couldn’t risk waking you and having you decide that you don’t even want to stay at his house at all.

Now at the foot of his bed, Bradley looks at you again. You look so small under his blanket, your eyes and cheeks puffy and wet as they press against the damp fur of your favorite stuffed animal. You’re still beautiful of course, but a different kind of beautiful. A sad kind of beautiful—like The Starry Night, Bradley thinks. 

Bradley had never really been into art, and he’s sure no one expects him to be, but you love art. Once he had surprised you with tickets to a van Gogh exhibit at the San Diego Museum of Art and the way you lit up the entire room with your smile had Bradley deciding that he’d walk through every art museum on the planet with you just to see you smile like that again. And in going to this museum with you, Bradley learned that maybe he did like art after all—but only when he was with you. Because your love for art wasn’t pretentious. You didn’t force him to stare at one painting for half an hour as you contrived meaning from every brush stroke and color choice. You just liked to look at it.

But Bradley will never forget the moment the two of you stopped at one of the few paintings in the exhibit he’d actually seen before and you pursed your lips gently.

“I’ve always had mixed feelings about Starry Night.”

Bradley turns his head away from the painting to look at you. “In what way?”

“I don’t know. I guess, for me, it’s always represented how selfish we can be as people,” you shrug.

Bradley squints at the painting, tilting his head slightly as he tries to understand what you’re seeing in the brush strokes that he’s missing. What’s so selfish about a painting of the night sky?

“It’s pretty well known that van Gogh wasn’t… doing well when he painted Starry Night,” you gesture slightly to your ear. “And that, actually, painting might have been making it worse, with everything that’s in the paint and stuff. And that’s part of the reason why Vincent van Gogh went through a lot of pain and suffering over the course of his life. But, even knowing that, you know what we say? We say, ‘well, if he hadn’t, we never would have gotten The Starry Night’. As if this painting,” you stop to point at the canvas in front of you, “is somehow worth all that suffering just because we find it beautiful. I just feel that it’s an awful, awful thing to be grateful for someone else’s pain solely because it created something we think is beautiful.”

Bradley has long since stopped looking at the painting, watching your profile as your eyes rake over the colors and shapes thoughtfully. You fiddle with the strap of your purse.

“I don’t know— For all I know, van Gogh could disagree, but I think I’d rather be happy than beautiful.”

And that’s the kind of beautiful Bradley sees when he looks at you asleep in his bed. The kind of beautiful that hurts. The kind of beautiful that only ever shows itself because Bradley’s selfish. He’d rather have you, sad and beautiful, than not know of your beauty at all.

But Bradley wants to have you happy. He wants you to be the kind of happy that lights up rooms because he got you tickets to an art exhibit. The kind of happy that makes his heart skip a beat when you walk into the living room in your salmon colored sundress.

He hopes that, in the morning, you’ll wake up not as tired with him and he’ll be able to fix things. To make it up to you the way he should have when you first started acting different in the car. Bradley has always been so sure that the two of you could work through anything. That you love each other more than you’re mad at each other. That you want to fix things more than you want them to just stop.

Now, as he watches you like The Starry Night, Bradley hopes more than anything that that’s still true.

I don’t have a taglist but feel free to follow my library @jupitercometgold​​ if you want to be notified when I post

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster angst #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #i ain't worried 'bout it #buggy's got a pen

[ddejavvu]

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.” 

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone. 

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

--

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes. 

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears. 

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip. 

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped. 

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock. 

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence. 

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

--

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x reader fanfiction #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw drabble #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster smut #rooster fanfiction #rooster fluff #rooster angst #rooster x reader fanfiction #rooster oneshot #rooster blurb #rooster drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fanfiction #hangman smut #hangman fluff

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

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

[bloatedandalone04]

Sweet Like Cinnamon

➪the one where bradley goes down on you in public.

Warnings: established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, smut, public smut, fluff, bradley worshipping you the whole time, swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Your freshly painted red nails traced the top of the bar as you held eye contact with a smirking Penny. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the movement of her hand as she wiped away the remnants of spilled beer on the surface.

Watching as her eyes flickered behind you a few times, a glint of mischief in them as she seems to have a silent and wordless conversation with someone just across the bar, you know she wants you to cave in and turn around.

You knew who held contact with her when she wasn’t looking at you. It was the same person who was talking to her in the wordless conversation as his mouth opened to sing the lyrics of a song.

The same person who was burning a hole in your back from all his staring.

Still, you refused to meet the eyes of the unbelievably attractive man sitting at the piano. Refused to play into his games and his heated stare.

The song wrapped up a few minutes later and you brought the glass of vodka-cranberry up to your lips, the sound of the large ring adoring your finger hitting the glass barely being heard throughout the Hard Deck. 

Penny watched something behind you, the movement of her eyes telling you that the hot performer was currently making his way towards the bar. 

You were proven right when you felt the heat of his body radiate onto yours as he leaned on the bar next to you. “Hey, pretty girl,”

From your spot on the stool, his height easily towered over you and intimidated you in the best way. “Hi,” came your short and sharp response.

Penny gave the two of you a knowing look and slid him a beer before moving to the other end of the bar. His hands wrapped around the cold glass as he brought it up to his lips for a quick sip, turning his body towards you after he set it back down. “I couldn’t help but notice that you never turned to look at me while I was playing. Not even once,” his deep voice accused in a teasing tone. “You missed quite the show.”

One corner of your lips turned upwards as you glanced over at him, keeping your hands wrapped around your drink. “Did I?” You ask, feigning innocence. When he nodded once and inched closer, you tilt your head as you apologize, “I am awfully sorry. I just didn’t want to distract you while you were showing off.”

He matches your smirk. “If that’s the case, you probably should have stayed home,” he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear. “‘Cause I had my eyes on you the whole time.”

You raise a brow when he pulls back and brings the beer to his lips once again, his tongue running over his mustache afterwards. Biting your tongue to stop the sound from leaving your mouth at the sight, you turn your body to face him fully. “Did you?” You ask and hear him hum in response, keeping his head forward as he runs his finger around the rim of the glass. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his hawaiian button up between your fingers and pull him towards you. His attention leaves his drink completely as you tug him forward and he turns his head just as you lean up and press your lips to his. 

Your ring-clad hand slides upwards and wraps around the back of his neck while both of his grip the sides of your face. He turns your body and presses your back against the side of the bar top with little effort, and his strength, mixed with the feeling of his lips, makes you feel dizzy. 

With his chest pressed to yours, and your back pressed to the bar, you had barely enough room to breathe as you pulled away from the kiss that was quickly becoming too heated to be acceptable in public. 

Keeping your hand on his neck, you allow your fingers to gently play with the strands of hair that littered the back of it as you gaze up at the prettiest pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. 

You weren’t surprised to find him already staring down at you. As you hold eye contact, a grin grows on his lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “Hi, pretty girl,”

“Hi, baby,” you murmur back, watching as his face flushes with a grin at the pet name.

“Not in public,” he mumbled, his fingers softly caressing your jaw. 

“Why not?” You purr, placing your other hand on his hip, squeezing just slightly as you continued, “Afraid your masculine image will be ruined if one of the guys hears me call you that?” 

He shakes his head, drawing you closer to him. “No,” he answers truthfully, his hands sliding down to gently press against the base of your throat. “You know what it does to me.”

You smirk at that and sway your head to the side to rid the fallen strands of hair from your face. “That I do,” you nod in agreement. “It’s why I say it.”

Bradley grunts quietly, placing his hands on the bar on either side of you. “You’re the worst,” 

“You love me anyway,” you give his hip another squeeze. 

“That I do,” he repeats your words before closing the distance once more and connects your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands settle on his chest while his grips your waist, his fingers bunching up your pretty white sundress. 

Tilting your head to the side, you allow his tongue to poke out and part your lips before meeting your own. The muscles slide against one another easily and skillfully, this clearly not being your first heated bar makeout. 

The kiss was becoming borderline inappropriate as he tugs you impossibly closer to him, his hands sliding up your back while yours grab onto his shoulders. 

Forgetting that you two were currently in a very public setting, you pull away with a blush when you hear Penny’s voice from behind you, “Alright, lovebirds, break it up before things turn a bit too R-rated for my patrons to handle,” she teases, tossing a cloth over her shoulder as she braces herself against the other side of the bar. “You and I both know your friends are children stuck in adult bodies, Rooster.” 

He laughs at that, pulling you close to him by caressing the back of your head. You snuggle into his side as he drapes his arm over your shoulder. “Can’t say you’re wrong there,” he agrees and laughs again when you lightly slap his chest before wrapping your arms around his middle. “Sorry, Penny, we’ll take it down a notch.”

Your smirk grows at that as you slip one of your hands in his back pocket, feeling the way he tensed up at the feeling of your wandering hands. “Our bad,” you say. “We just got caught up in the moment.”

Penny just shakes her head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, kids,” she waves you off with a wink. “You’re young and in love, enjoy it.”

And enjoy it you will.

After she walks away, Bradley turns back to you and immediately presses his lips to yours once again, Penny’s warnings seeming to have gone in one ear and out the other. 

You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his arms as they search for his. With your drinks long since forgotten, you kiss him one more time before pulling away, leaving his lips chasing after yours as you lead him across the bar. 

Bradley follows after you quickly, his hands moving to grip your hips when he nearly fell forward before he caught himself. You hold back a laugh at the way he almost tripped in an attempt to get you to move faster to your destination, a smug smirk staying on your lips afterwards. 

You turned to head towards the door, but stopped when you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against his chest. His mouth was next to your ear and you felt his heavy breaths against the skin of your shoulder as he mumbled, “Bathroom,” and you were about to question him when he continued, “I can’t drive like this.”

You knew what he was talking about, more like you could feel it poking against you as he shielded himself with your body. 

He was worked up, both from his performance and from the heated makeout he had just taken part in. His face was heated up and his eyes, though hidden behind his aviators, were blown wide with lust. 

It never did take much to get him going when it came down to you. He learned that pretty quickly back when he first met you nearly three years ago. The high he felt after getting up from his place behind the piano only increased when he returned to his rightful spot beside you. Once he was back in the aroma of that vanilla body spray you always wore, he was done for. 

“You could always let me drive, you know,” you trail off, knowing damn well he would never let you drive the Bronco. 

But, instead of immediately brushing that idea off, like you expected him to, he just shook his head and gently pushed you into the small bathroom. “Never going to happen,” he said, shutting and locking the door behind him before turning back to you. 

You, his sweet girl who looked so effortlessly pretty standing in the limited space of the bathroom, just waiting for him to make his next move. 

Bradley takes the glasses off and tosses them into the curve of the sink, the well-being of his aviators the furthest thing on his mind. 

His eyes linger on the fabric of your white dress, the flowy material making you look like something straight out of heaven. Your face was quickly heating up under his intense gaze, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

It wasn’t loud enough for you to miss the way he beckoned you over to him with a murmured, “Come here, pretty girl,”

You oblige without any hesitation, walking the two steps towards him and sighing against his mouth when he grabbed the back of your head with one hand and pressed his lips against yours. 

The kiss was rough and desperate and needy. Bradley wasn’t holding back now that he was away from the teasing eyes of Penny, and that was evident in the way he took full control over your mouth. His other hand came up to grip the side of your face and angle your head so he could have better access to your lips. 

His mouth completely covered yours as he turned you around and pressed you against the chipped door, his free hand coming up to lift the bottom of your dress slightly. “Bradley,” you murmured against his lips, feeling the tip of his tongue ease its way into your mouth. His hand tugged your dress up further until it was bunched around your waist, and you moaned against his mouth as you felt his fingers caress your clit through the black lace fabric that shielded your core from the chilled air. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he mumbled back, breaking the kiss to attach his lips to your neck. “You drive me crazy, too.”

“I need you,” you breathed out as his finger began rubbing circles against you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, please.”

Bradley loved it when you begged for him. It didn’t matter where you were, whether he was under you, on top of you, in you, he loved it when your voice became higher. He had an undeniable feeling of pride that took over him whenever you pleaded for him to fuck you, he had no choice but to give in to you every single time.  

His mustache tickled your skin as he trailed his kisses further and further down your body, his lips pausing above the black lace that hid your core from him. He lifted his head just slightly, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward and ran his tongue along your fabric covered slit. 

A moan of relief escapes your lips as you reach down to rest your hands on his shoulders. “God,” 

He grinned up at you and trailed his hands up the sides of your thighs. “Not quite,” his voice sounded raspy and it only made your skin burn hotter with need. “I prefer Bradley. Your Bradley.”

A possessive look formed in his eyes for a brief second before his lust for you overpowered it. 

It had you clenching around nothing as you whimpered. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out and watched as he pulled the fabric down your legs and guided it around your heels before stuffing it in his jean pocket. He sends you a cheeky look when he saw you raise a brow at that, before leaning back in and wrapping his lips around your clit. “Oh, my G-”

You cut yourself off when Bradley pulled away and looked up at you, mischief swimming in his brown eyes. 

“Bradley,” you corrected yourself and watched a smirk slowly form on his lips.

“Better,” he said before his tongue was poking out to lick a stripe up your slit. You moan and it quickly turns into a gasp as he grabs your right leg and lifts it up so you could rest your thigh on his shoulder. 

He had much better access to your heat like this, and the need to make you come all over his tongue was all he could feel as he began to work the muscle in and out of you. 

Bradley groaned loudly at the sweet taste that only belonged to you. He couldn’t bring himself to care if he was heard over the music that flooded from the jukebox, and he knew you wouldn’t care either. He couldn’t help but praise you every single time you gave him the opportunity to go down on you. You tasted so good, he just had to let you know, whether that be with words or sounds of pleasure on his end.

 His groan vibrated your soaking walls and you tip your head back against the door with a quiet thud. Your fingers tangle in his hair as your lips part slightly when he flattened his tongue and moved his head so it could drag back up your slit. He finished the single movement by sucking your clit into his mouth harshly, making your legs shake and tingle as you tried to hold yourself up.

With one of your hands buried in his hair, you use your free one to reach down and grip the frame of the door in hopes to regain some form of stability as his tongue darts back into your wetness. 

You stifle a moan by biting into your bottom lip and breaking eye contact, the sight of him on his knees for you being far too much for you to handle right now. You were worried someone would hear you if you were to continue to hold eye contact when he was looking at you like you were the single most important thing in his life. 

But Bradley has told you those exact words more than once now, and he really did not care if anyone heard just how good he was making you feel. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds you make only for me, baby,” he murmured against the skin of your inner thigh as he pressed a few kisses to it. His right hand trailed up your other leg and settled in between the two, his index and middle finger easily sliding inside your walls. 

You choke out a moan and spare a glance down at him, seeing him already looking up at you with glistening lips and his teeth on display in a grin. “Holy fuck,” you say breathlessly and tug on his hair a bit. “Bradley.”

“That’s right, baby,” he hummed in approval, nudging his nose against your clit. “Let them all hear who’s making you feel so good right now. The only one allowed to have you like this.”

That possessive look was back and it had you clenching around his fingers as he fucked them in and out of you. Bradley leans back in and sucks on your clit again while his fingers sped up their pace, the wet sound of them dragging against your walls and the whimpers leaving your mouth was all that could be heard in the small bathroom. 

“Fucking hell, Bradley,” you moaned and raked your hands through his hair again, feeling his grunt against your bundle of nerves. The contrast of your red nails, and the engagement ring on your finger, peeking through his dark strands was such a pretty sight and it only had you moaning a bit louder as he tugged you closer to him. His tongue was relentless against your clit as his fingers fucked into you quicker, and you had no choice but to close your eyes as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. “Oh, fuck.”

Bradley pulled away from your clit, his thumb moving to keep the pressure his tongue gave you, and leaned back so he could gaze up at you. “You’re close, hm, pretty girl?” He teased and turned his head to press a chaste kiss to the side of your knee before gently sucking on the skin. “Are you gonna come for me? Let me feel just how wet I can get you?” 

Your back arched off the door with a loud groan and you clench impossibly tighter around his fingers as his thumb continued to stimulate you to your limit. With a cry of his name, you came on his fingers and missed when his eyes flickered from your face to the way your release dripped down his fingers. 

He really wasn’t sure which sight was hotter, your face scrunched up in pleasure, or the wetness he felt coating his hand as you slumped back against the door. “Just like that, baby,” he praised as he slowed his fingers down to prolong your high. His thumb had stopped circling your clit as he knew you get sensitive pretty fast after you come, and he didn’t want to overstimulate you…just yet.

 Your legs felt weak as Bradley pulled his fingers out of you and held eye contact with you as he slowly slid them into his mouth. He licked them clean while you bit your lip again to control the pornographic sounds that threatened to slip from  your mouth. 

He let out a throaty groan as he withdrew the digits from his mouth. “Fuck,” he nearly whispered before moving forward and licking a flat stripe up your folds, collecting your warm release on his tongue before his hands reached up and tugged your dress back down so you were covered again. He grinned up at you when he felt you shudder against him as he guided your right leg off of his shoulder and stood up. 

You lean back against the door as he cages you in with his body and rests his forearm on the door above your head. “Do you feel better now?” You ask as you trail your hand down his chest, pausing just above the button of his jeans. “I can return the favor?” 

Bradley’s free hand caught your wrist before it could venture any further down and shook his head. “That was only a warm up,” he informed you. He was still painfully hard, even more than before, but he was feeling relieved enough to be able to drive the ten minutes it took to arrive home. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, smirking at the low whine that escaped your mouth when he pulled away. “Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun au #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Faking It | Part I

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: none that I can think of except that the reader's height is described as shorter than Rooster's.

This idea has been plaguing me so I had to get it out haha Hope y'all enjoy!

Bradley watches you skeptically. You have yet to convince him that pretending to be your date for your sister’s wedding is an outstanding idea. Your mother has undoubtedly invited a whole slew of bachelors because she thinks you might need some help in the romance department. You decidedly do not. Despite the fact that you are struggling to even get a fake date.

You make a face at him. “I will owe you,” you say. “Anything you want.”

He shrugs. “I don’t want anything.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Bradshaw,” you plead. “I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

He purses his lips, not looking overly enticed.

“I’ll come over once a day and do all your dishes.”

“We’ve got Hangman for that.”

“Hangman does your dishes?” you ask incredulously, trying to picture Jake Seresin in an apron with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “He lost a bet last week.”

You let out a soft laugh, then get back to business. “I’ll clean your room,” you offer.

“I’ll have you know that my room is immaculate,” Bradley replies.

You scoff. “Then do this for me out of the goodness of your heart!”

Bradley chuckles slightly. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is a big ask.”

“Please, my mother is rounding up all the eligible males on the western seaboard as we speak.”

Bradley laughs. “What does your mother have against landlocked states?”

“I don’t know. Political ideology?”

Bradley snorts. “Have you asked Hangman?”

You groan. “Please don’t make me ask Hangman. He will never let me live this down.”

Bradley nods. “That is true.”

“It’s just a weekend. A few photos here and there. Some superficial chitchat with my grandparents about the importance of educational funding for our nation’s youth. My niece loves airplanes so you can tell her all about your latest mission” –

“My classified mission?”

“Well, leave out the classified parts,” you retort impatiently.

Bradley contemplates your proposal while your mind scrambles trying to determine something that might make it worth his while.

“Free drinks for a week,” you say, wiping the already dry bar to give your free hand something to do.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You can’t do that.”

You roll your eyes. Bradley Bradshaw will never go along with a scheme unless it is one hundred percent above board. “Meaning I will pay for them. I get a discount on the alcohol.”

Bradley gives you an amused look. “So, you wish to buy my services.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “I told you, I will do anything you want.”

“Well, I don’t want you paying my tab,” he replies casually.

You lean into the bar with a heavy sigh, bringing your face closer to his. “You are really grinding my gears, Bradshaw,” you say.

His eyes lift to your face as he lets out a wry chuckle.

“Do you really think a weekend with me will be so torturous?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his stool nonchalantly, but you wonder if he does it to expand the space between your faces. “I wasn't actually going to refuse. Just like to see you sweat.”

He chuckles, ducking as you go to smack him with the towel you just used to wipe the bar.

…

“Aunt Barb is a hard-ass,” you say in a low voice, turning your head toward Bradley as your aunt makes a beeline for you at the rehearsal dinner. You end up talking into Bradley’s shoulder because he’s so much taller than you and he instinctively lowers his head so he can hear you better.

“What’s that, shorty?” he mutters, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. But the next moment, you can feel his breath on your forehead and you gulp when his palm flattens against your back. You had been the one who'd asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you hadn’t actually considered what that might entail. Apparently, it entails Bradley Bradshaw’s hand on your lower back and a woozy sensation in your gut akin to a 200-foot roller coaster drop. You aren’t too fond of roller coasters.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet for a split second. Bradley promptly straightens his back. You let out an unsteady sigh and say, “Aunt Barb will be questioning you; be prepared. Have you read my notes?”

Bradley gives you a pointed look. “Of course, I read your notes.”

But as Aunt Barb approaches, you feel Bradley’s touch along your back waver until his hand finally drops at his side.

“Y/N!” your aunt exclaims, giving you a kiss on each cheek. She blinks up at Bradley expectantly.

“This is Bradley,” you say. “This is my aunt, Barb.”

Bradley holds out his hand. “It’s great to meet you,” he says.

Aunt Barb gives him a crafty smile. “Is this your boyfriend, Y/N?” she asks, but her question is directed more at Bradley than at you.

Bradley returns her smile. “That’s me,” he replies, giving you a quick glance.

“Oh, good,” your aunt says. “We were starting to get worried after that whole fiasco with Steven.”

You stare at her as Bradley turns to you. “Who’s Steven?” he asks.

Aunt Barb gives him a probing look. “You don’t know?”

Bradley eyes you inquisitively. “Should I?” he asks, still looking at you.

“Her ex, of course,” Barb continues. “He’s here, you know?”

You peel your gaze away from Bradley to look at your aunt. “What? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s friends with the groom, of course. Or have you forgotten?”

You grimace. You don’t remember Steven being exceedingly close with your sister’s fiancé, so the fact that he somehow weaseled his way into this function aggravates you greatly.

When your aunt walks away, Bradley turns to you with his eyebrows raised. “Steven wasn’t in your notes.”

You give him a sour look. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bradley shrugs. “Still think you should’ve mentioned him. Was it serious?”

“Nope,” you respond curtly, ready to put the topic to rest.

Bradley seems to sense your reluctance to engage in this particular conversation and drops the subject. “Shall we go grab some drinks?”

You’re about to respond when your mother appears before you and you nearly bump into her. “Mom!” you exclaim in surprise.

“Y/N, why are you so jumpy?” she asks.

You shoot a nervous glance in Bradley’s direction, but he appears unfazed. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head slightly.

Your mother looks over at Bradley with a judgemental air. “Are you the aviator?” she asks with a hint of distaste in her tone.

“Indeed,” Bradley responds, giving you a confident look before glancing back at your mother.

But your mother is no longer paying Bradley any attention. She turns back to you. “Steven is here,” she says.

You let out a sigh. “Yes, I know, mother.”

She gives you a knowing look before glancing back at Bradley. “We all thought they were going to get married,” she says with an artificial smile.

Bradley raises his eyebrows and nods his head slowly. “You must be disappointed,” he says.

Your mother seems pleased with his response and nods at Bradley vehemently. “They have a lot of history,” she says.

You close your eyes. “Mom, stop.”

“I’m just saying, he’s here,” your mom says. “Do with that what you will.”

You blink at her. “I will do nothing.”

Bradley watches you squirm sympathetically and, when you glance up at him defeatedly, he takes you by the hand. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure,” he says and starts to pull you away. “We just want to hit the bar before the first course.”

“Sure.” Your mom gives him a quick nod and throws a pointed look in your direction.

You cling to Bradley’s hand gratefully, even going as far as clutching at his arm with your other hand just to get away faster. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whimper.

He looks down at you, squeezing your hand. “It’s why I’m here, right?” he says.

“Right,” you agree, feeling his bicep flex under your fingers as his hand tightens around yours.

…

After dinner, you make your way through the crowd to the bathroom. The evening is nearly over and it seems that you and Bradley have put on a reasonably convincing charade. Bradley’s relaxed disposition has made the evening infinitely more enjoyable than you could have imagined and you find yourself feeling almost sorry that the night is coming to an end. Almost. Because, after all, you won’t be able to take a real breath of relief until you’re in the comfort of your room.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you walk back to your table and you completely miss the fact that your ex-boyfriend has spotted you and is heading your way.

“Y/N!” he exclaims as if he’s surprised to see you attending your own sister’s wedding rehearsal.

You blink at him in alarm. “Steven,” you say with a slight grimace, kicking yourself for not checking your surroundings before making your way across the open floor.

Your eyes scan the tables, desperately searching for Bradley. When you locate him, you can see that he’s already watching you.

Steven steps closer to you, holding out his hands. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, leaning in for a hug.

You recoil as he tries to put his arms around you. “Is it?” you ask, holding up your hand to keep him back. The last time you saw him, he was throwing every insult imaginable in your direction.

Over Steven’s shoulder, you can see Bradley getting out his seat and starting to make his way toward the two of you, a stony expression on his face.

“You look great,” Steven continues, finally lowering his arms.

“Uh, thanks,” you say uneasily just as Bradley steps around Steven to face him.

“Everything alright here?” Bradley asks, his eyes sliding between you and Steven.

“Mm-hm,” you say, instinctively shifting closer to Bradley as Steven continues to scrutinize your every move.

“I’m Bradley,” he introduces himself, confidently extending his hand to Steven.

“Steven.” Steven takes his hand tentatively and you can see the slight wince on his face as Bradley crushes his hand in a handshake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Steven,” Bradley says, and you look up at him sharply.

“Oh, really?” Steven lifts his eyebrows, giving you a smirk.

“No,” Bradley replies flatly.

Steven blinks at him in confusion, clearly taken aback.

Bradley slides his arm around your waist possessively and you lean into him slightly, relieved that he’s playing his part so perfectly.

Steven gives Bradley a hostile look which Bradley expertly returns. Then, he lowers his face, saying, “Drink?”

“Yes, please,” you say, letting out a sigh.

“You take care, Steven,” Bradley says, wheeling you around in the direction of the bar.

Part 2

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradhsaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #top gun rooster #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw drabble #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #rooster x y/n #top gun maverick #rooster x oc #rooster x f!reader #rooster x female reader #top gun #top gun fanfic

[ohtobeleah]

California Fornication //

Three — ‘Start Pretending’

Summary: Bob Floyd finds you and Hangman in a compromising position. There’s a lot more than meets the eye as to why Rooster chose his wife over you. He just hasn’t told you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst. Abusive of power in a relationship. Domestic abuse. SMUT!

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: First upload after my wedding. Had this idea swimming around in my brain all week.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Siren!” 

It was all too much for your brain to comprehend. The man you’d been dating, the man you had begun to see a future with, the man who made you forget about all the boys who came before, was married. Bradley Bradshaw was a married man. 

“Y/n—“ Bradley called after you as you made your way back to your car. Of all the days you could have parked closer, today was the day you decided to park all the way in the back row of the lot. “Would you just stop for five seconds so I can explain!” 

You couldn’t begin to explain the way you felt. Betrayed, heartbroken, angry, used. Nothing really did the trick when trying to find the right adjective that perfectly described the sick bottomless pit your stomach had become as you scurried back to your car with Rooster hot on your tail. “Y/n! Please just let me explain!” Bradley begged as he caught up to you. His boots were heavy on the ground as he gripped at your wrist—turning you back to face him as he pleaded with you. “Please, just listen.” 

“You know when would have been a perfect time to explain your situation, Rooster?” You hissed as you ripped your wrist from his grasp. “At the bar! The night we met!” It was damn near impossible to believe that the fact Bradley was married had never been discussed or even be divulged to you. By anyone. “Right now? I don’t wanna know, because I’m about three seconds away from getting in my car and running you down!” It’s the anger in your voice that frightens Rooster the most before he’s standing there, watching you walk away. 

“We’re getting a divorce!” He shouts after you, jogging to catch up to you as you keep putting one foot in front of the other. “I don’t know what she’s doing here baby, you have to believe me.” It sounds as sincere as he can make it sound. “I never wanted you to find out like this, please—“ You pause in your stride, trying your best to keep the tears that had formed in your lower lash line from streaming down your cheeks. It’s to no avail though—they fall freely before the man who’d stolen your heart. “I swear to you, she’s nothing to me anymore.” Bradley’s voice softens as he steps a little closer all the while you step back. Keeping your distance. “I was going to tell you about it all.” He admitted through tears of his own. “About her. But it still hurts to think about it and when I’m with you Siren?” Bradley paused to soak in the way your eyes mimicked his own heartbreak. “It doesn't hurt.” 

“I need to get home—“ You needed time to process the earth shattering news. “Please just let me go home, Rooster, before I have an aneurysm.” 

“It doesn't hurt when I’m with you!” Bradley needed you to hear him out, so he kept talking as you walked away. He watched you dump your duffel into the backseat of your car as he spoke. “I mean it Siren, I don’t love her, I’m with you now and if I’m being perfectly honest here I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Bradley blocked you from opening your driver's side door. He said not a single word as he pulled you into him for a desperate kiss. Full of passion and love. Your lips melted with his as you tried to will yourself to be strong. But the tears kept falling. 

“I need you to hear me out about this alright?” He whispered as he let your forehead rest against yours. “I promise I had every intention of telling you the truth. I told everyone not to so that I could tell you myself—I just didn’t know how and before I knew it we were official and the longer I waited the more scared I got about losing you.” 

“You really mean it when you say you were getting a divorce?” You asked through wet lashes. Not sure of what to believe. 

“I do.” Bradley confirmed before he was once again pulling you in for a kiss so passion filled it took the breath right out of your lungs. “I don’t settle for women who sleep with my best friend.” 

“She cheated on you?” Your heart broke for the man who was currently blocking your driver's door as his arms draped over your shoulders. 

“Walked in on them in the middle of it too.” You could see the memory playing out across Roosters eyes before he shook the memory from his mind. “I can’t go back to her, not when I’ve got you. So please, stay, hear me out Siren.” You let Bradley’s plea linger in the atmosphere around you before you reached up to kiss him once more for good measure. 

“If you really want me to listen and you really want to lay all this out on the table—I’ll be at the Hard Deck tonight for two for one night at seven o’clock .” You explained. “I’ll book a table on the dining side, and I’ll listen.” 

“I’ll be there.” Bradley smiled against your neck as he drew you in for a hug. “I’ll tell Katie to leave, I’ll tell her it’s over, completely, and I’ll be there.” Bradley Bradshaw had said that his marriage was over with enough conviction in his voice that he actually had you believing it. But as it turned out? You ended up sitting alone in a booth at the Hard Deck for two hours. And when Bradley did eventually show? He came hand in hand with his wife. 

“She looks so heartbroken.” Phoenix whispered to Bob as they watched you stand from the now empty booth they’d seen you sitting alone at for the past two hours. They’d tried their best to sit with you, but you insisted you were fine. 

You’d seen Bradley walk in, and within a millisecond your heart shattered into a million pieces. It was all the explanation you needed, seeing Rooster with his wife. Things were over between you. He’d chosen her. Why? Why her? 

“We should—“

“We should really stay out of whatever mess this is Nix.” Bob sighed as he watched you push past the crowd and exit from the same door Rooster and his estranged wife had just come through. “Something tells me this is gonna get messy and I can’t afford to be picking and choosing sides when I entrust my life to you guys for work.” 

“He’s an idiot—“ Phoenix shook her head as she took a sip of her beer, eyeing off the woman who’d destroyed her own marriage and a friendship that she once thought was unbreakable. “For going back to her.” 

“Love makes you do crazy things—“ Bob replied as he caught Rooster looking around the Hard Deck while Katie spoke with Fanboy. He was looking for you. “Crazy, stupid things.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Oh my god—!” Jake Seresin couldn’t have been buried any deeper inside you if he tried. “Fucking hell you’re so tight.” He moaned into the juncture of your neck as he bucked his hips into you. The two of you had switched positions—you were now the one sitting on the bathroom countertop with your legs wrapped around Jake's waist. “Why’d Bradshaw let you go huh? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever been up in.” It felt so wrong but oh so right at the same time—like you were made for him and only him. 

“Did you say that to Rooster's wife too?” You teased as Jake sucked perfect pressure against your pulse point. The two of you could be compromised by anyone at any moment. The unisex bathroom the pair of you were in was one of two. 

“Oh you’ve got a mean streak don’t you?” Jake smirked as his hand moved from your hip to your throat. Applying a little pressure. “And no, his dirty little mistress is a better fuck.” It sent shivers down your exposed spine. “Wanna get outta here? Come back to mine?” 

“Not until you finish what you started here first.” You could feel it coming, swirling around your core, the build up of pressure so intense it was damn near electric. “I’m so close—“ 

“Oh don’t you worry a pretty little hair on that head of yours, Siren.” Jake snarled as he picked up and pace and pulled your hair back just enough to expose your neck for him to mark up. “I’m gonna get you exactly where you wanna go.” He was so cocky, so sure of himself it was almost infuriating. “Touch yourself for me.” But yet here you were, doing exactly as you were told as Jake fucked deep into you with everything he had. Throbbing inside your velvet walls. “That’s it Siren, look at you.” He teased as you moaned and whimpered for more. “Tell me what you want—“

“I wanna cum!” You cried as Jake chuckled with a devilish smirk that made your core ignite with lust and need. “Please—“ 

“I ain’t stopping you darlin.” Jake kissed your lips harshly to stop the drool that was nearly dripping out of you. “You wanna cum all over my dick then go ahead and do it, I’m sure Rooster won’t mind.” Oh but he would mind, that you both knew. Which is what made this all the more exhilarating. “Or maybe he’ll try to kill me.”

“Oh fuck!!” You were so close, your high was right there. “Jake! Fuck yes I’m gonna cum—“ He was right behind you, fucking into your until he was nearly seeing stars. “Don’t stop!” 

“Ohhh god I’m right with you—“ Through a mix of moans and grunts and a need to get each other off, neither you nor Jake heard the knob of the bathroom door creek open to reveal an unsuspecting Robert Floyd. He stood there dumbfounded and shocked to no end, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as it hit the mirror behind you. Your chest was perky and exposed. Jake's face was buried in your chest and he hooked his arms around the small of your waist and spilled his load inside you. Stilling with a grunt of pure ecstasy as he came with you. “Fuck.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Bob thought he was speechless, but as it turned out he had a thing or two to say. Jake turned his head in the direction of where Bob's voice had come from as he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind himself. “Are you certifiably insane!?” 

“What can I say Floyd.” Jake smirked as he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his jeans. You hopped down on the counter, leaking with Jake's load, searching for your clothes behind him. Completely mortified that Bob had seen you so exposed. “Bradshaw has an exquisite taste in women.”

“I really did feel bad for you, you know.” Bob did his best to ignore Jake's comment as he turned his attention to where you were getting dressed. “We all did, because we should have told you.” He tried to hold his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheeks. But it was coming out regardless. Bob needed to say it. “But you know what Jake did and yet here you are, so don’t come crawling to anybody for sympathy when Rooster finds out about this.” 

“Last time I checked Bob—“ Jake puffed his chest a little as he took a step closer to where Bob stood. “Roosters happily married, so Siren here is free to fuck whoever she damn pleases.” Jake reminded the usually meek WSO. “But if you wanna be the one to tell Bradley about this then by all means, have at it.” Jake paused as the two men came face to face, toe to toe. “But make sure you’re ready to duck the second you taddle, he puts his weight behind those punches, and I don’t think those weak ass glasses would withstand a shot like that.” 

“Jake—“ You broke the tension with a gentle hand to the small of Jake's waist. “Let’s just get out of here yeah?” You reminded him softly as Bob held his stare. Disappointed beyond belief that you would go anywhere near Jake Seresin. “Let’s just go.” 

“Don’t let Penny hear you disrespect a lady like that.” Jake smirked to himself as he fixed his shirt. “She might just make you pay for a round.” Jake reached for your hand as he opened the Bathroom door. “Good to see you again Bob.” It wasn’t long after Jake had the final word that he was pulling you out of the bathroom, past the rest of the Daggers who didn’t know what to think seeing the two of you rush out of the Hard Deck together and out into the carpark. 

“You didn’t have to stand up for me like that, you know.” You broke to silence as Jake opened up the passenger side door of his Ford F150, offering you a hand up that you so graciously accepted. “I can look after myself.” 

“It’s nothing—“ Jake insisted as he leaned in to kiss you, soaking up the fact all eyes were on the pair of you through the window. From Phoenix to Coyote who all knew this was going to end as badly as it did the last time. “Us dirty mistresses gotta stick together.” 

You hardly knew this man yet he was so endearing. The thought of getting to know Jake made you crave his attention all that much more. But you knew what this was—a fling, a rebound, a wrong turn if you will. Because Jake loved Katie and you were still pretty positive that you loved Bradley. 

“To the dirty mistress' clubhouse.” You smiled as Jake beamed at you. “Hope you have a nice bedroom.” 

 ***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“No no no no I don’t think you understand what I’m saying to you Kate.” Bradley hissed as he paced back and forth in his living room. His handles fell to his hips in frustration and he burnt track marks into his carpet. “It’s over, we’re done, I don’t love you enough to want to put the work in!” It was all falling on deaf ears, Bradley’s pleas, his feelings. “I can’t be with someone who broke my heart the way you did.” All Bradley had ever wanted was what his parents had. 

“You want to file for divorce Rooster, that’s fine.” Katie Beadshaw had another name before she met Rooster. Her maiden name was Katherine Ferguson. To those in uniform ‘Ferguson’ carried a title like no other and right now, it was Katie’s only okay to keep her husband in a marriage she ruined. “But just take a look at these first.” Katie pulled a handful of papers from her purse. They held a weight like no other. A power Bradley couldn’t fight. 

“What are these?” Rooster snatched the slightly crumpled papers from his wife’s hand. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw what they were. “You’re kidding right? You can’t be serious! This is insane!!” 

“Signed by daddy dearest himself.” Katie smirked as she stepped closer to Bradley, just so she could walk her fingers up his heaving chest. “I’m sure Siren would be thrilled to be presented with dishonorable discharge papers signed by the chief of Navy himself.” Bradley never thought the woman he married could be so cold, so cruel, so dangerous. “But hey, go ahead and divorce me, because I’d love to watch her world burn down to the ground and take you for every cent you’re worth.” Katie snickered all the while Bradley tore the papers up. “S’okay, they weren’t the real ones honey.” 

“You vicious little bitch.” Bradley spat as he stepped away and ran his hand frustratedly through his sandy locks. “What do you want from me! You slept with my best friend! You broke my fucking heart Kate and now you’re blackmailing the me!? Threatening the girl who actually gives enough of a shit about me? For what huh?” Rooster felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was meant ro be with you at the Hard Deck, explaining everything—how exactly was he supposed to explain this. 

“I want you back.” Katie cooed and all Bradley did was scoff. “You aren’t going to tell her about any of this either.” He followed through. “Because if you do I’ll make sure her career ends before she even knows what it’s like to be loved by you.” 

“I DON'T LOVE YOU!” Bradley shouted, he couldn’t have been more clear if he tried to be before Katie’s open palm made a stinging connection against his cheek. He stood there in shock, never once had Bradley ever hit a woman but fuck this would definitely be the closest he’d gotten. 

“Well you better start pretending!” Katie hissed. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” Within a second of her fit of rage and need for utter control, Katie was smiling, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the same cheek she’d just slapped. 

“Dinner at the Hard Deck baby, my treat.” Not sure what to do, Bradley nodded silently as he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. Realising that he’d just found himself in a webb his wife had spun to keep him, and realising soon after that he’d just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him. 

You. 

Because there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d ever forgive him, or believe him now. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

#california fornication #bradley bradshaw #Jake Seresin #maverick top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #Bradley bradshaw x f!reader #jake seresin smut #bradley bradshaw angst

[its-the-pilot]

Waves | Rooster x Reader

| Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

My first Top Gun fic, please be nice and enjoy!

Summary: Fourteen years after leaving without saying goodbye, Bradley Bradshaw comes back into your life. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 2k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Working on this as a series, let me know what you think and if you want to see more!

Message or comment to join the taglist!

Chapter One

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

Bradley immediately recognized the voice behind him without needing to turn around. He shook his head before downing the shot of bourbon in his hand and throwing his next dart, scoring 13. He’d never claimed to be good, but the unwelcome distraction didn’t help. “Hangman. You look… good,” he replied flatly, turning to face his fellow aviator.

Both men were wearing their service whites, customary for the mixer held for TOP GUN students the night before beginning training. “Well, I am good, Rooster. I'm very good. In fact, I am too good to be true,” Hangman gave his usual smirk as he picked up Rooster’s last dart from the table and threw it, hitting the bullseye without even looking. “Didn’t think they let old timers in.”

They had met a few years earlier in flight school, and they instantly had a rivalry of sorts. Bradley had been several years older than the rest of the pilots in the program, due to not being able to attend the Naval Academy like he wanted. It took him years longer than it should have to become an aviator, and there was a bit of a chip on his shoulder because of it. Hangman, cocksure as ever, had instantly picked up on that weakness and exploited it to the best of his ability, pointing it out every chance he got. Some things never changed.

“Didn’t think they let assholes in either, but here you are,” Rooster shot back, taking a long pull from the beer on the table beside him before moving to gather his darts off the board.

The younger man chuckled, the insult seeming to roll off him like water off a duck’s back. “C’mon now, Rooster, we’re old buddies! Some older than others,” He smirked, sneaking in another jab as he patted him on the back. “Don’t take it so personal.” Hangman did a quick once over of the bar, his grin still firmly affixed to his face as he noted the number of women in attendance for the evening. “Plenty of delectable dessert options tonight, why are you holed up over here all by your lonesome?”

“I’m here to fly, not fuck my way through Coronado.”

A boisterous laugh escaped the tall blonde’s mouth. “Someone doesn’t know how to take advantage of a situation when it presents itself. Your callsign really is fitting.” Straightening his uniform, Hangman’s eyes locked on to a pretty woman approaching the bar. “If you can’t get laid in Whites, you just don’t know what you’re doing. Watch and learn, Rooster.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and turned back to his dart game, draining his beer as Hangman walked away. As fun as it might be, he had no desire to watch him make a fool of himself in front of an entire bar with his cocky attitude.

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

You recited the drink order for your table a few times in your head as you walked up to the bar, raising your hand to get the bartender’s attention. Your coworkers Kendra and Hazel had wanted to come out tonight, knowing that the new crop of TOP GUN candidates would be here, dressed to the nines. You hadn’t been interested but they wore you down, telling you they would pay for your drinks if you just kept them company for a few hours. You secretly hoped it wouldn't take them long to find a couple guys to take home, so you could get on with your uneventful evening of laundry and prepping for work.

“3 beers, 3 vodka shots,” you ordered, passing a $5 tip across the bar. Sliding onto a barstool as you waited, you made a cursory glance around the bar and groaned to yourself, shaking your head. You couldn’t understand what the appeal was, most aviators had more balls than brains and were just looking for a quick lay.

It only took a minute of waiting for your drinks before you felt a warm, solid presence accompanied by a pair of hands resting on the bar top on either side of you, covered in white sleeves. “Not interested,” you said in a sing-songy voice, not even needing to look up to know it was a new TOP GUN aviator standing with his chest pressed gently against your back.

“Not even gonna give me a chance?” He asked, his southern drawl coming out as he leaned close to your ear.

You turned as much as you were able with his body so close and gave him a look, your eyebrow raised. He was handsome, tall and blonde, with striking green eyes, but his uniform was enough to turn you off. “Nope. I don’t date aviators.” Lord knew you had a lifetime’s worth of experience with them.

Your uncle Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had raised you from the time you were eight years old, after your parents died in a car accident. Growing up around Navy pilots gave you an aversion to them, and in your line of work, that was more helpful than you could imagine. You worked with aviators day in and day out in your job as an Aerospace Psychologist, and getting personally invested with the pilots would have consequences.

He chuckled, leaning back only slightly to allow your movement as his eyes traveled over your body. You wore a cabernet colored maxi dress with wedge sandals tied to your feet with white ribbons, like pointe shoes, and you had never felt more exposed than you did right then as he licked his lips, looking at you like prey. “You’re in the wrong place then, darlin’. We’re all aviators around here.”

“Well aware,” you sighed, turning back to the bar and waiting for your drinks. When the bartender approached and set your drinks down, you smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Penny.”

The older woman grinned back, always happy to see you. She’d known you most of your life, though she was in and out of it at the will of your uncle, a typical flyboy incapable of settling down. You would never understand why she kept coming back to him after he broke her heart so many times. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, looking him over briefly. Penny knew how you felt about Navy guys, but she enjoyed teasing you.

“Not my--”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin, ma’am. Callsign Hangman.” He offered his most charming smile as he cut you off and lifted his right hand from the bar to offer it to Penny.

You immediately took the opportunity to duck under his arm, grabbing the drinks on the bar in front of you. Penny laughed as Jake watched you slide away from him and head back to the table with your coworkers. “Better behave, she’s the owner,” you called back, your hands full of glasses.

“A pleasure, Lieutenant,” she took his hand and shook it before wiping down the bar where your drinks had just been. His eyes followed you across the bar, and she snapped the back of his hand with the towel. “You won’t wear her down. She’s got a million reasons not to go anywhere near Navy guys. There’s plenty of other fish in the sea.”

When you got back to your table, you snuck a glance back toward the bar, watching Penny give Jake what she was sure was a warning about you. He didn’t look phased though, and within minutes he had moved on to another girl a few seats away at the bar, repeating the same move he had done with you.

“Predictable,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as your coworkers chatted, rating the various aviators in the bar. You largely ignored them as you took a long drink from your beer, looking out the window at the sun setting over the ocean when you heard the tinkle of piano keys interrupting your thoughts. The old upright in the bar hadn’t been played in as long as you could remember, usually the only time you heard it at all was when someone got too drunk and fell into it.

From your seat you could only see the back of the man playing, but you could tell he was an aviator. Dressed in his service whites, his broad shoulders were pulled back with perfect posture as he tapped away at the keys, getting the feel for the instrument before he started playing an all too familiar song.

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

The sound of his voice made your stomach flip as if you were in a F/A-18. “No fucking way…” you breathed, not taking your eyes off of the back of the man’s head as he played.

“What?” Kendra asked, stopping her conversation with Hazel to turn in the direction of the piano player, then back to you, confused as to your reaction.

You didn’t answer as you stood, your steps cautious as you made your way across the bar in his direction. It couldn’t be. It had been nearly fifteen years since you last heard from him, the night he left for the last time.

Without saying goodbye.

“Jesus, Bradshaw! Not this song again! Is it the only one you know?” Hangman complained, not far from the piano and chatting up what was probably his fourth girl of the evening. Hearing his name was all the confirmation you needed.

Bradley wasn’t deterred by Hangman’s whining, instead he just continued singing, the bar joining in. He had always been good at being the center of attention when he wanted to be.

“You broke my will, but what a thrill, Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

Moving closer, you slipped into his line of sight without a word, a combination of emotions you didn’t understand bubbling up inside of you. He looked just like his father from the pictures you had seen, but at the same time he was still the teenager you had known so long ago.

“I laughed at love ‘cause I thought it was funny, You came along and…”

Looking up, his voice trailed off and his fingers faltered on the keys, making a sour note as he made eye contact with you. There was a long, awkward moment of silence as the entire bar watched on, curious as to what was happening.

He couldn't believe you were standing in front of him. The last place he had expected to find you was anywhere near anything having to do with the Navy, even if it was just a bar. And now here you were, staring at him as if you were seeing a ghost. Though he supposed he didn't look too much different. “You look good, Dimples.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the nickname, and before you knew what you were doing, your hand reached out and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. The same hand flew to cover your mouth as you gasped at the realization of what you did. He didn’t immediately turn his head back to face you, and it made you feel even more nauseous.

It was so quiet a pin could drop. Embarrassment flooded over you and your eyes moved around the bar frantically before landing back on Bradley. When you realized his eyes were still on you, a sob only muffled by your hand escaped before you turned and ran out the back doors to the beach, barely stopping to get your purse and tell your friends you were going home on your way out.

There was no way this wouldn't be the talk of North Island tomorrow.

It remained silent until the door to the deck slammed shut behind you, then people started whispering amongst themselves, stealing glances at Bradley. Hangman had a smug grin on his lips as he stepped up behind his fellow aviator, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he leaned down to speak quietly.

“Damn, Rooster. I thought I was the only one who could earn that level of ire from women. Kinda hot, right?”

He shoved Jake’s hand away and stood, grabbing his cover off the top of the piano before heading toward the door you had exited from. “Fuck off, Bagman,” he snapped, hoping you hadn’t gotten too far.

Chapter Two

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic

[fandomxpreferences]

You’re All I Care About

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader

Summary: Bradleys world is almost flipped upside down when he receives a terrifying call from you. (Based off this post) 

TW: car accident, angst, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m not really pleased with how this turned out but I also don't have the motivation to rewrite it so blah

You blink your eyes a few times trying to take in your surroundings. The first thing you register is the blaring horn and the smell of blood. You know that you've just been T-boned but you don't know how bad it is. The other car must have run because you're alone in the middle of the four-way stop. You're not on a popular road so there are no other cars around to help. 

The first thing you think to do is call Bradley. You know he'll get here faster than any first responders. Your heart drops when you realize that you're in his bronco. Your car was in the shop having some work done, so he had insisted you drive it. You don't stay stuck on the thought for long, digging for your phone.

The impact had spun the truck around and everything went flying. You spot your cell on the passenger side floorboard and reach to grab it. It takes you a minute to get your hands on it, having to be mindful of the shattered glass covering the car. Once it's in your hands, you press Bradley's contact and lean back with your eyes closed. 

Bradley's at your shared home laughing with Jake and Nat when his phone rings. He smiles when he sees your contact photo and answers, pressing the phone to his ear. His face drops when he hears a car horn blasting and you don't greet him. The two pilots notice his change in demeanor and sit up with concern written on their features. 

"Y/N?" He tries and his heart plummets when you don't respond. He tries again, this time louder and you finally answer. "Bradley," you breathe and he stands up when he hears the tears and panic in your voice. "I'm sorry about your Bronco."

His eyes widen when he realizes the horn is coming from his truck. "Baby where are you?" He's already grabbing Jake's keys and sprinting out the door. Jake and Nat are hot on his tail, not bothering to ask any questions. Bradley's reaction is all they need to know. You give him your location and he stays on the phone with you. 

"I'm only a couple minutes away, baby. Are you hurt?" His stomach twists in anticipation of your answer. Your head hurts but you're not in any severe pain. "I don't think so. My head hurts, but that's it." You tell him and he breathes a little easier. 

"Okay, honey. Are the paramedics there yet?" He doesn't hear any sirens and wonders how long ago this happened. He's going 80 in a 55 and it won't take him much longer to get to you. You chuckle to yourself as you answer. "No, you're the first person I called."

Bradley's eyebrows furrow and he turns to Jake. "Call an ambulance." His friend looks at him baffled for a second. "Now." His voice is more urgent this time and Jake pulls out his phone to call 911. 

The truck skids to a stop as they pull up to the accident. Phoenix gasps and covers her mouth and Jake is in complete disbelief. He's still on the phone with the operator and he tells them to hurry. Bradley feels like he's going to throw up as he bolts out of the truck, barely putting it in park. 

His bronco is completely crushed in on the driver's side and glass is littered across the road. All of the airbags are deployed and he falters when he sees blood. 

He hasn't even seen you yet, but if the condition of his truck is any indication, it isn't good. He makes it to you and he runs his hands through his hair in a panic, unsure of what to do. All of his military training has flown out the window. 

He’s brought back when he sees Jake try to wrench the door open. He helps him pull a couple of times but it's pinned shut. "Hey, flyboy." He hears your sweet voice and forces himself to look at you. 

He feels a lump form in his throat and he reaches toward your head. You have blood dripping down the side of your face, but other than that you don't look too beat up. 

There are definitely some cuts from the glass and probably bruises from the seatbelt locking up, but it could be worse. He knows your head is the most concerning injury. The way you're bleeding there's no way you didn't hit it, but you seem aware of your surroundings and have your usual teasing tone.

Bradley runs around to the passenger side and opens the door. He climbs in ignoring the shards digging into him and leans over to check your pulse. He can hear the sirens approaching and calms down just enough to talk. "Hey, baby. We're gonna get you out of here but I need you to try and keep your head still until they can check you out okay?" 

You hum in acknowledgment just as the ambulance and police cars arrive at the scene. Bradley is pulled back by Jake as the paramedics start asking questions and working on you. He pulls against the restraint and Nat finally gets out of the truck and rushes over. She stands in from of him and places a gentle hand on his arm. "Let them work, Bradley."

He stops fighting and deflates into the man behind him. He feels the adrenaline start to fade and hot tears prick at his eyes. He scrubs his hands over his face trying to compose himself as a paramedic walks up to him. 

"She's stable, but were transporting her to the hospital to check for head trauma and internal injuries. Do one of you want to ride in the back with her?" Bradley immediately steps forward and the paramedic nods, leading him to the ambulance. 

He climbs in and takes your hand. You look significantly better with a bandage on your head and a woman is working on disinfecting your cuts. You look over at him the best you can with the neck brace and within seconds tears are rolling off your face. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "It's okay, baby. You're okay."

You look up at him and his heart shatters at the fear in your eyes. "I'm so sorry about the bronco, Bradley. I promise I'll pay for whatever damage if it can even be fixed." He shakes his head in disbelief and grasps both of your hands In his. 

'Listen to me. I don't give two fucks about that right now. All I care about is you being okay. I'll deal with all that later." You blink and another tear cascades down your cheek. "But it means so much to you."

Bradley closes his eyes and a tear slips out. He leans down to rest his head on top of your interlocked hands and takes a shaky breath. "Nothing in this world means more to me than you. A car can be replaced, you can't. Sure I'm devastated, but not nearly as devastated as I would be if something had happened to you."

Truthfully Bradley doesn't know if he could ever get behind the wheel of his bronco again, even if it is salvageable. Anytime he goes to drive it, he'll only be able to picture you stuck behind the wheel covered in blood and glass. 

It's silent for a few minutes and before you know it, you're being admitted to the hospital. Jake and Nat arrive with the ambulance and join Bradley in the waiting room. The staff whisks you away immediately to do some scans and all they can do is wait. 

After what seemed like days but in reality, was only an hour and a half, a doctor comes out and calls your name. The three of them shoot up and race forward. "How is she?" The doctor glances at the chart to confirm and then looks back up at your boyfriend.

"She's just fine. She has a cut on her head that required a few stitches and some scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe. All of her scans came back clear. She does have a mild concussion, the nurse will explain how to proceed with that." 

Bradley feels a rush of relief followed by a sob clawing up his throat. He didn't realize just how terrified he was. He runs a hand down his face and nods. "Thank you. Can I see her?" The man nods and tells him a room number before walking away. 

Bradley all but sprints to your room and almost collapses when he can see that you're really okay with his own two eyes. You're sitting up on the side of the bed talking to a nurse when your eyes land on him. You give him a bright smile and he feels his heart flutter. Even in blood-stained clothes, you manage to steal his breath. 

He lurches forward and hugs you before pulling back and giving you a gentle yet desperate kiss. It's filled with all of the emotion he's been reeling in since you called him and you taste salty wetness. You pull back and reach up to wipe his tears before kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"Everything is okay. I'm okay. They're finishing up the paperwork and then you can take me home." Bradley doesn't say anything, he just nods in understanding. 

An hour later, you're in Jake's truck on the way home. Bradley sits in the backseat with you, absentmindedly rubbing circles on your inner thigh. Once you're home he helps you inside, and you both wave goodbye to Jake and Nat. 

You make your way over to the couch and plop down with a sigh. "Can we cuddle and watch movies?" You ask with a small pout and Bradley leans down to kiss your head. 

"Of course. Let me go pop some popcorn while you find something to put on." You nod and smile. "We both know we're watching Legally Blonde, babe." The pilot laughs and shakes his head, trying to pretend he doesn't love that movie as much as you do. "You and your chick flicks."

An hour later, you're curled up in his arms snoring softly. He looks down at you and takes in your features. He commits your face to memory, noting how peaceful you look. He doesn't bother disturbing you, instead laying his head back and closing his eyes as well. Today scared the shit out of him, but as long as you're here in his arms he knows you're safe and sound.

Taglist:

@drakelover78​

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw topgun #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster angst