#let's all pour one out for phoenix!

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

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

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

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

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Endings and Beginnings - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Second Person POV ("You"), No Physical Description about Reader

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

Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

A.N. Rooster is retired in this story and it's set a few years after TGM.

Edit: Part 2 is now out!

Master List

Maverick was officially retiring from the Navy. Or finally, depending on who you asked. The Hard Deck had been cleared out for the party and several generations of naval aviators, active and retired, and their families were spread out around the space. Drinks were poured continuously, there was pizza and snacks and even a cake with a Tomcat on it for later.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to be here?” Rooster asked you softly, grabbing your hand.

“I’m fine,” you assured your husband. “Just pregnant.”

“Very pregnant,” Hangman added, causing Rooster to glare over at him. Phoenix whacked Hangman on the arm your behalf, causing the blond to huff and complain. “What? It’s true!”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, squeezing Rooster’s hand. “I’ll sit down if I need to and there’s plenty of water and snacks that I can eat.” You released his hand and nudged him in the direction of Maverick, who was chatting with a few pilots his own age. “Go, mingle. Shoo. It’s a party. Party.”

“Only if you promise to let me know if you need to go home or to the hospital or—”

“—Rooster, I’m fine. The baby isn’t coming for another two weeks. Now, go. I think Mav’s been trying to subtly introduce you for an hour now.”

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Rooster told the others before heading over to Maverick.

The newly retired pilot was all smiles as he chatted with his old friends. But as soon as Maverick spotted Rooster walking over, he quickly moved to pull him over to the older crowd of pilots.

“She finally kicked you over here?” Maverick asked, referring to you.

“Apparently, I’m hovering too much,” Rooster joked with Mav.

“Well, it’s a perfect time to reintroduce yourself to everyone.”

Maverick gestured around the half-circle of former naval aviators. Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, Sundown, Merlin, and Viper all nodded to Rooster and Rooster shook their corresponding hands. It had been a long time since he saw any of them, what with the whole paper incident, but Slider still dragged him in for a noogie like he was eight-years-old.

“So, you were Maverick’s RIO in that whole business?” Merlin asked, referring to the mission.

Even though the mission was still highly classified three years later, the fact that Maverick and Rooster had barely made it out alive wasn’t. Well, that and word got around when an old smashed up Tomcat was unloaded off of a carrier.

“How was that?” Merlin continued.

“Most terrifying experience of my life,” Rooster responded, half-joking, half-serious.

“I understand completely,” Merlin mused, causing Maverick to smile and shake his head.

“That’s not why you turned in your wings, is it though?” Viper asked with a knowing expression.

“No, no,” Rooster replied immediately. “When I got married and my wife and I started to plan for having our family, I decided that I wanted to be there for every step. And I didn’t want her to worry about me coming home at the end of the day. So, I finished up my service requirements and retired.”

And, well, for a kid who lost his father to the Navy, Rooster’s reasoning didn’t raise a single eyebrow. Every naval aviator knew the risks involved in their line of work and while technological advancements helped decrease training accidents and fatalities, they were still always a possibility.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his child learn about him from pictures, like he had to with his own father.

“And Maverick says that you’re switching to commercial?” Wolfman spoke up.

“Yeah, I have one more test to take and then I’m ready to fly, but I probably won’t start until we’re settled with our baby,” Rooster explained, nodding along.

“Your first one?” Viper guessed with an all-knowing smile.

“How could you tell?” Rooster inquired, earning a chuckle from the other fathers in the group.

 “You got that look in your eye.”

“Not too different from the rookies at flight school,” Hollywood added with an amused smile.

“It’ll pass eventually, but the first one always gets you jittery,”  

“Being a father is like learning how to fly—utterly terrifying at first, and there’s definitely a learning curve to it, but once you’re up there and you’ve leveled out, you won’t even remember what it was like before you learned in the first place.”

“I keep telling him to relax. He’ll be a natural,” Maverick spoke up, squeezing Rooster’s shoulder.

Rooster glanced through the crowd to check on you and found you sitting at one of the tables with your feet propped up on the opposite chair. You looked calm, but uncomfortable—though you’d told him that ‘nearly nine months pregnant’ and ‘comfortable’ did not go together no matter the situation.

“But speaking of, I should probably go check on my wife,” Rooster replied, his nerves and ‘Mother Hen’ tendencies, as Hangman called them, shining through.

“Of course.”

“Don’t let us keep you.”

“It was an honor to meet all of you again,” Rooster offered in goodbye, before checking on you.

The retired naval aviators watched him go and then turned to Maverick.

“God, he looks just like Goose,” Slider replied quietly.

“And with the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt too,” Wolfman agreed, sharing looks with the other retired naval aviators.

“Yeah, he does,” Maverick stated softly, watching Rooster weave through the party. “Just wait until you see him at a piano.”

Rooster slid through the crowd over to the back tables. You were still sitting with your feet propped up, a full glass of water in front of you, and your usual easygoing smile on your lips. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman were keeping you company and spread out around you.

“You alright?” Rooster asked, walking to your side.

“I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down for a little bit. Baby Bradshaw seems a little excited about the party,” you stated, your hands resting over the swell of your bump. Rooster placed a hand under yours, where Baby Bradshaw tended to kick for the last few days. “How’s Mav doing?”

“I think he’s enjoying himself a lot. He hasn’t seen his old TOP GUN buddies in a while, so it’s nice for them to all come out to see him.”

“Well, Penny can be very convincing when she wants to be,” you mused with a smile.

Wordlessly you moved Rooster’s hand to the side, where the baby was pressing on you. Though you were growing tired of being pregnant, you didn’t think that you’d ever get tired of the way that Rooster just flipped a happy switch whenever he felt your baby.

“What are you all doing over here?” Rooster asked, turning back to the others.

“Actually, we’ve got a poll going about the baby,” Bob explained to Rooster.

“What are the votes?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix declared confidently.

“Which means that it’s a boy,” Hangman stated, just as confident.

“You only said that after you found out that Rooster and I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix retorted, causing Hangman to shrug his shoulders.

"So what?”

“I think that it’s a boy too,” you offered up. “The way that I’m carrying says that it’s a boy.”

“It’s not an exact science,” Rooster pointed out.

“No but call it mother’s intuition.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“God, you’re so whipped,” Hangman grunted, earning an elbow to the side from Phoenix.

Rooster and you ended up leaving the party among the first wave of people—mostly elderly and people with small children. But not before you received a whole bunch of random baby gifts from all of the people who missed your shower a month earlier.

“Do you want a hot bath when we get home?” Rooster offered, glancing over at you as he drove home.

“Maybe,” you sighed, shifting in your seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just uncomfortable. Nothing either of us can do for that.”

“You want more of that tea that Penny got you then?”

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat. Your hands rubbed up and down your bump, trying to soothe yourself. “I think that Baby Bradshaw just got a little overexcited about meeting everyone all at once. But maybe some tea and a bath will help.”

“Coming right up,” Rooster assured you.

You pulled into the driveway and Rooster walked around to help you out. Usually, yo would just push his hand away and insist that you were more than capable of getting yourself out of the car, but this time you happily accepted his help.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Rooster asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, pecking his cheek. “Just slow.”

Rooster walked with you to the front door, keeping a protective arm around your waist. You walked into the kitchen and Rooster instantly moved to heat up some hot water for your tea. You leaned on the countertop, just looking completely uncomfortable with your existence.

“I’ll grab the bags out of the car and then I’ll start your bath,” Rooster promised, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you.”

Rooster jogged down to the car and gathered whatever bags were sitting in the trunk. He left the go bag in the car, just in case, before heading back into the house. He wasn’t even completely through the door when he spotted you waddling towards the stairs.

“I’ll run your bath, babe, just sit and relax.”

“I’m not going to take a bath,” you called back, moving up the stairs slowly.

“You need help?”

“No, I just need to change.”

“Oh, okay,” Rooster replied, setting down the bags.

“Also, don’t walk through the kitchen yet,” you warned him, grunting a bit as you walked.

“Why?” Rooster asked, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s amniotic fluid all over the floor and I haven’t gotten a chance to clean it up yet.”

“Amniotic . . .” Rooster trailed off before the realization hit him like 10 G’s all at once. “Babe!?”

Part 2

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

[deconstructthesoup]

Personal Ranking of the Fantasy High Moms, From Worst to Best:

Arianwen Abernant: -19999/10. She's not as bad as Angwyn, since she's convinced herself she's a good mother, but her "I just want the best for you" shtick isn't any better, and the fact that she's ignorant about how horrible she is doesn't make up for years of neglect. And she also attempted to rope her daughters into raising a being of pure nightmares because she lost her status, so.

Donna Applebees: 0/10. Conservative, racist, judgmental, only loves her kids conditionally... you get the gist. Also, she's absolutely a Karen.

Hallariel Seacaster: 3/10. Yes, I know, she's a MILF, she's got such an iconic vibe, she's a badass with a sword, but none of that excuses years of being emotionally absent from your son's life. She's not a bad person, but she unfortunately doesn't know how to be a mom. Sorry, Hallariel. I wish I could rank you higher.

The Last Phoenix: 5/10. Bird. She's a bird. We don't know enough about her except for the fact that she is the last phoenix, she started out as a "haha Arthur Aguefort is a crazy motherfucker" gag, and she gave us the incredible gift that is Ayda. I cannot rank her fairly, but given that she is Ayda's mom, she goes on the list.

Roz Last-Name-Unknown: 6/10. Same deal with Gorbag---we don't know enough about her for me to properly rank her, but we do know that she was a teen mom, and she's made the choice to reconnect with her son and be in his life. Props for that.

Sandralynn Faeth: 7.5/10. I am ranking her realistically, but let it be known that I love her so much. She is such a beautiful example of a flawed person who consistently tries to be better, and even though she does relapse into old behaviors, she's still growing---and outside of the serial cheating (that is a response to trauma, by the way) and occasional lapses in social skills, she's a pretty damn good mom, all things considered.

Cathilda Ceili: 8/10. She's the parent that Fabian needed, even if he didn't always realize it. She's sweet, she's caring, and if anybody hurts her boy, she will fucking rock your shit. (Also, the reveal of Cathilda being an incredibly fearsome and ruthless pirate outside of Solace was one of my favorites.)

Wilma Thistlespring: 9/10. She's a caring and supportive mom who writes songs, is sex-positive, and loves her son! Again, she does need to recognize when she's embarrassing Gorgug, and she needs to recognize that he's gotta learn how to be angry, but still! We all love her!

Lydia Barkrock: 9.6/10. While she doesn't quite get the full score due to the fact that her son was briefly an ass, it clearly was not her fault, and from what we've seen of her, she is a fantastic mom. She's a badass disabled powerhouse who cooks incredible spreads and cares about her son and his friends a lot. I love her a lot. She's amazing.

Sklonda Gukgak: 10/10. She took that spot in her very first scene, where she poured water in her cereal so Riz could have milk in his, and she's been holding it up ever since. Despite the fact that she's constantly swamped with work, Sklonda is literally one of the best moms you could ever ask for. She deserves the world and it's a constant injustice that she's not getting it.

Bonus: Garthy O'Brien, while having transcended gender and therefore not being able to fit into either of the "mom/dad" rankings, is an 11/10 parent---not just to Ayda, but to everyone younger than them who they've essentially adopted. Words cannot express my adoration for this person.

#honestly if all of the bad kids had siblings i'd do a sibling ranking #i mean i guess fabian technically has a gazillion siblings out there but they're all dead or something #ah well #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high: junior year #arianwen abernant #donna applebees #hallariel seacaster #sandra lynn faeth #cathilda ceili #wilma thistlespring #lydia barkrock #sklonda gukgak #garthy obrien

[crimsonbubble]

Thigh riding and dirty talk with the val guys 🙏

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, thigh riding, praise, degradation, overstimulation, marking, poorly translated languages *not proofread, just pure brainrot

[breach isn't here bc I just didn't want to write for him :// this is so rushed and half assed im sorry 😭😭]

MINORS DNI!!

brimstone (daddy issues popped out with this one yikes)

a sweetheart

literally so attentive

does the work for you

holds you against him as he rocks your hips against his thigh

"atta boy/girl, doing so good baby."

chamber

cocky mf

he either sits back and watches you do all the work

or literally can't sit still and guides your hips over his thigh

loves watching you melt into him when he guides your hips to ride out your orgasm

likes when your nails dig into his shoulders when he keeps your hips moving after your first orgasm

"you can give me one more, right mon ange (my angle)?" "be good for me and give me one more, pour que je puisse m'occuper de toi. (so I can take care of you)."

cypher

good mix of degradation and praise

loves to see you get all flustered when you rub against him

lives for the way you get flustered and hide your face behind your hand

"oh come on, is that the best you can do?"

harbor

his focus is on you

forget about him

let him take care of you

holds you so carefully

rubs your back as his hands follow the movements of your hips

"don't worry about me, let's focus on you, yea?"

kay/o

he's a robot therefore he vibrates

I feel like you'd have to like show him porn or smth to get him to understand the concept of dirty talk

but I feel like he'd be a little stiff with it, not really sure what to do

but give him time to research and study a bit and he'll get the hang of it

"take it easy, just like that."

omen

so touchy

literally wants you to cling to him

like just bury yourself into his arms as you pleasure yourself on him

lets out soft grumbles that can only be considered as some form of purring

"my sweetling, so good to me."

phoenix

literally does not know when to shut up

will run his mouth about how good you look and how well you're doing

easiest way to shut him up is to kiss him

the easiest way to keep him quiet is to make out with him

not just a few short kisses

I mean full sloppy kisses, desperate grabbing at each other and feeling all over one another

"c'mon baby, do it for me." "fuck, you're so good to me."

sova

an absolute sweetheart like brim

he'll keep his hands on your thighs as you rut against him

he'll take over when you start whining and slowing down

praise praise praise

sova loves seeing how your cheeks grow warmer and how you hide your face when he tells you how pretty you look

"such a good boy/girl for me, дорогой (sweetheart)." "its okay, I've got you, keep going for me, малыш (baby)

yoru

mixes praise and degradation like he's a fckn chef or smth

gets off on you rutting against his thigh as much as you're getting off to you rutting on his thigh

hickeys upon hickeys

love bites upon love bites

he can't keep his mouth off you

"look at the mess you made on me, you little whore." "fuck you look so pretty like this, fuckin use me, c'mon."

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #valorant chamber smut #valorant x reader smut #valorant x reader #valorant smut #valorant brimstone smut #valorant yoru x reader #valorant phoenix x reader #valorant chamber x reader #valorant kay/o x reader #valorant cypher x reader #valorant omen x reader #valorant harbor x reader #valorant sova x reader #sova smut #harbor smut #omen smut #cypher smut #kay/o smut #chamber smut #phoenix smut #yoru smut #brimstone smut #yoru x reader #chamber x reader #kay/o x reader #omen x reader #sova x reader

[bradleyfuckingbradshaw]

All too well

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Summary: You're at dinner with your boyfriend and some of his colleagues at a restaurant he chose when you look over the menu and realize there's no vegetarian option, but he's too busy with his friends to realize that. Bradley isn't.

A/N Ignore the text on the gif. It was just perfect for this fic

"Babe, did you say this was formal or more casual?" you yell from the bedroom. Clothes are currently covering the bed as you attempt to find the perfect outfit for tonight. It's the first time he's ever brought you to an event with his colleagues from the Navy, and you want to make sure you look like someone who belongs next to him.

"I sort of like you like this," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You chuckle as you peel off his hands from your exposed stomach.

"You're saying I can go in my underwear?" He seems to consider it for just a moment before he picks up a black turtleneck.

"It's more casual than formal. Wear this. You always look amazing in it." He places a kiss on your cheek before leaving you to get ready. Carefully, you paint your lips red as the final touch before grabbing your bag.

"So, who exactly are we meeting?" You gently scratch his neck with your nails as he drives.

"Just a few of my colleagues from Top Gun. For the first time in a few years, we're all stationed in the same area. I'll introduce you when we get there," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. The rain is pouring down heavy outside, and you find yourself thanking the universe for the inkling you'd had when you left home to bring an umbrella.

"Damn, looks like we're the last to arrive," he mumbles, parking as close to the restaurant as possible. He grabs the umbrella and gets out. You wait for exactly thirty seconds before you realize that he's not coming to open your door. He actually just left you without an umbrella in the pouring rain. You roll down the window slightly to yell after him at the same time as he turns around.

"Could you grab the keys? I think I dropped them on the floor." Rightly so, the keys are on the floor of the car. But you're still without an umbrella, and he hasn't even noticed that you haven't gotten out of the car yet. As they start moving inside, one of them breaks apart from the group and rushes over to the car. Even though you're pissed, you put on a smile as he opens the door.

"Figured you might prefer to stay dry," the stranger laughs except he's not a stranger at all. No, you know that voice very well. Your smile tightens when you look into Bradley Bradshaw's taupe eyes. His jaw drops when he notices who you are.

"Shit," he breathes, but you're not about to let this ruin the night.

"Tonight is a big night for him." He nods - just once. And then he walks you to the door, making sure to cover you with his umbrella. Thankfully, there's an empty seat right next to him, and you hurry over to occupy it. Introductions are made, and you should get an Oscar for how well you pretend to have never ever heard the name Bradley Bradshaw before.

"So, Y/N, what do you pass the time with while this knucklehead is away?" the girl, Phoenix, asks with a kind smile. You're about to answer when he cuts in.

"Knucklehead? Who are you calling a knucklehead, Slippery Joe?" Then he embarks on the story of how Phoenix came to be known as Slippery Joe for dropping several valuable engine pieces and breaking every single one of them. You try to smile as they all joke around because you know how happy he is about tonight. So, you look over the menu and to your horror, you notice there's not a single vegetarian meal on this.

"Babe," you say quietly to get his attention, but he's too busy talking to one of the guys you can't remember the name of. That's when you notice Bradley staring directly at you with a menu in hand. You give him a pointed look.

Keep your mouth shut.

Only if you say something yourself.

Once again, you attempt to discretely get the attention of your boyfriend. You try to intertwine your fingers with his, but he moves his hand and inadvertently claps your hand before dropping it. With burning cheeks, you excuse yourself and head up to the bar.

"Is there any chance you can prepare a vegetarian dish?" you ask one of the waiters who passes by. She gives you a funny look, and you're well aware of the irony of asking that question at a steak house.

"The best we can offer is the salad bar," she apologizes before rushing off to another table. When you turn around, Bradley is standing right there.

"He picked the restaurant, you know." Clenching your jaw to keep from outright crying, you walk past him without even acknowledging him.

"He dropped your hand. What sort of dick does that?" Of course he noticed. Spinning around, you point to his chest.

"Not another word, okay? We happened years ago. You don't get to pretend like you know me or my relationship now," you say in a hushed voice to keep the rest of the table from hearing it. With a heavy heart, you return to your seat where your boyfriend continues to completely ignore your existence.

When the waiter comes over, you keep quiet while everyone else orders. When it finally becomes your turn, you smile and say: "I'm not that hungry, so can I just have the salad bar as my meal?" All the guys start howling and crying about how you can't turn down the meat in this place. You insist that you're not really that hungry even as Bradley looks like he's about to explode.

"If you're worried about the bill, I can cover it," your boyfriend whispers, and you can't believe that he thinks this is about money.

"I can't eat a single thing here. I don't eat meat." You try to keep your tone neutral, but you can't help sounding a little disappointed in him.

"Really, you want to pick a fight right now?" Before you even have a chance to respond, he turns back to his friends and throws himself into the conversation. Dumbstruck by his audacity, you keep quiet as the night goes on. Every time someone tries to bring you in to the conversation, he finds a way to make it all about him. And you really try to tell yourself that these people are his friends and he hasn't seen them in forever, but you can't help the nagging feeling that he'd prefer it if you weren't here. Too engrossed in the role of entertainer, he doesn't even notice when Bradley slides a plate of fries across the table to you.

'Clean' he mouths and then rejoins the conversation. With a grumbling stomach, you pull the fries over and notices that he's used his bread plate to make sure they haven't been touched by the meat juice. Despite your best intentions, you can't help but smile as you dig in. But the joy is short-lasting when your boyfriend finally notices.

"You could've just told me if you wanted fries," he says, giving Bradley a side eye that he politely ignores. But you see the smirk he's trying to hide.

"I think I need some air before dessert," you excuse yourself and walk outside. The rain has finally stopped so you take a deep breath and revel in the smell of wet earth.

"Petrichor."

"What?"

"Petrichor. It's what the smell after rain is called." You don't have to be a mind reader to know he too is remembering mornings spent on the balcony right after heavy rain.

"Right." Wrapping your arms around yourself, you take several deep breaths. Suddenly, a coat is draped across your shoulders.

"I know you get cold," he mumbles looking just about every direction except for yours. For once, you accept his kindness. Together, you enjoy the quietness of the evening as the party continues on inside.

"I know this isn't my place to ask but what the hell are you doing with that guy?" You don't immediately shut him down even though you should. This is dangerous territory.

"He's not normally like this," is your only response. And it's true. He's not normally this bad, but he doesn't always treat you like you deserve. You know. You've had many conversations with him about it.

"So, the Navy, huh? I didn't think you wanted that." You'd known Bradley when you were both young, and he'd sworn he wouldn't follow in his dad's footsteps if only to keep his mother from worrying.

"I didn't know what else to do when you left for college. I needed some sort of structure. The Navy offered me that and then I realized just how badly I wanted to be there." He takes a step towards you, and you're stupid enough to stay put. You and Bradley didn't break up because you stopped loving each other.

"What are you doing with him?" he asks again. This time quietly and... hurt? And you truly don't have an answer for Bradley because in this moment in time, you have no idea.

"Why do you care?" you counter.

"Because I love you. Always have, always will," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You take several steps back to create some space between you.

"You can't just say stuff like that!" you exclaim.

"Why not? I've flown with him, I've seen him with other women. He is a prick and one of the worst ones." You push past him and lets his coat drop to the floor before entering the restaurant again.

"Hey, I'm not feeling too good. I'll grab a cab home," you whisper and he doesn't even bother to offer to drive you home. He just smiles at you briefly before returning to the conversation. Making a beeline for the parking lot, you try to ignore Bradley. Even as he comes over to stand next to you. And especially as you start shivering from the cold. He doesn't dare offer you his coat this time.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

"No, you shouldn't have." A silence much different from before settles on you as you wait for the cab. You rub your arms to try to stay warm but it's impossible. God, why didn't you just bring a coat?

"I can drive you home. It's no problem." You wait at least five more minutes before you begrudgingly walk over to his car. He tries and fails to hide the smirk on his face when he doesn't even have to point it out to you.

"I remember stuff too," you say under your breath as you get in. This has always been his dream car. Even at the age of 16 with absolutely no money or prospects to ever earn enough money to pay for this. The drive back is quiet but you're so acutely aware of how close he is to you, you feel like you're going insane. He looks good. Even you can't deny that. And his cologne... God, his cologne is going to be the reason you lose your last shred of dignity.

"Thanks for the ride," you say once he pulls over outside your apartment.

"No problem." Get out of the car. You tell yourself over and over to get out of the car, but your body seems to have grown roots. Finally, you look over at Bradley only to find that he's already watching you.

"I won't invite you in." Because I might do something I'll regret.

"Okay." Just get out of the damn car... He's too close, and you can't think straight.

"For what it's worth I'd never treat you like that." For just a brief second, you try to convince yourself that you heard wrong, but you know he really just said that.

"I know." He inhales sharply but keeps quiet otherwise - letting you decide how to end the night. Seeing him, hearing his voice, it's all bringing back feelings you've kept buried for so long. You never imagined that you'd see him again but now he's sitting right next to you, and you can't ignore that feeling in your chest. Your heart used to beat for Bradley Bradshaw... it still does. Painfully slow, you reach out to grab his hand. He clutches it tightly in his.

"I've missed you," he whispers, baring his heart to you. Nothing happens that night. You need to end things with your boyfriend, be a decent person. But a week later, Bradley knocks on your door and when you open it, he kisses you instantly. Your hands are in his hair and his... they roam every curve of your body. He groans as you kiss his neck and let your tongue lick that sensitive spot right below his ear.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

"Take me to the bedroom, Lieutenant."

#rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun fic #top gun blurb #top gun fanfiction #top gun spoilers #top gun maverick #top gun movie

[ohgodnotagainn]

girl in a coffee shop

summary → 4 times bob recommended a drink + 1 time he recommended something else.

warnings → swearing, allusions to sex, probably some typos in there, coffee shop au, everyone is like 28ish in this

length → 5.1K

pairing → robert "bob" floyd x fem reader

a/n → this is SO self indulgent, but it's turned into my favorite fic i've written thus far. i hope you all love it as much as i do. i love, adore, and appreciate feedback, but as always, be nice or be gone. if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist let me know.

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

“You’d be the pretty girl in a coffee shop, sweet as candy lemon drops, with your favorite pair of Birkenstocks - that’d be you.”

You found Top Brews completely by accident - your apartment was proving to be too distracting to finish editing your last shoot and so, in a fit of frustration, you googled the closest cafe with free internet. Five minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot with your laptop and a dream. 

The shop was rather quaint - local artwork lined the walls and a variety of couches, armchairs, and tables littered the dark wooden floors. The place was alive with people slaving away on laptops, first dates, and old friends catching up over steaming lattes. You could tell these four walls harbored a community, and you wondered how you had missed it all this time. 

Walking up to the bar you realized that the eclectic vibes weren’t what made this little shop special, it was the staff. A stunning brunette greeted you with a warm smile, and behind her you could see a blonde and a mustached man arguing over the ‘right’ way to do the dishes. 

“Hey there! I haven’t seen you around here before - my name is Nat but you can call me Phoenix. I know the menu is a bit overwhelming, so if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask!” 

You weren’t sure how she could tell that you were overwhelmed, but you could guess it wasn’t uncommon for how extensive the chalkboard menu was. There were so many drink options you weren’t entirely sure where to start and you hadn’t thought much about what you would want in the short time it took you to slip on a pair of Birkenstocks and make the trek here. 

“This is my first time in, do you have any recommendations?”

The smile on her face grew wider as she smacked the shoulder of a slender man with glasses hidden behind the espresso machine.

“Ahh, if you want recommendations then Bob here is your man. He’s yet to steer someone wrong and makes the best concoctions you’ll ever taste.”

Bob, as Phoenix called him, seemed startled when he looked up from the pitcher he was steaming. Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his gentle ones, and you were intrigued by his calm demeanor despite all the hustle and bustle around him. 

“Well then, Bob was it? I guess I’ll trust your reputation - surprise me, I’m not picky.”

You were finishing up paying when you heard Bob curse loudly, “Shit!” You glanced over just in time to see hot milk pouring over the edges of the metal pitcher onto his hands as he frantically turned off the steam wand. His neck and cheeks were painted red, no doubt embarrassed by what happened. 

Words tumbled out of his mouth while he made quick work of wiping down the bar with a wet rag. “I - uh - I promise I know how to do my job, I just get so in the zone sometimes and I got distracted and Rooster is back there squawking so loud I can’t hear myself think and -”

His words and motions came to a halt as he heard you giggling, and though it may have been at his expense, he would do anything to hear it every day. 

You tried to keep a straight face, but you were still in a fit of giggles as you said, “You guys keep a Rooster back there? I’m not sure the health department would appreciate that very much.” 

At your words, the mustached man from the great dish debate whipped around with a hand to his chest and pretend indignation written on his face. “Excuse you! I’ll have you know that inspector Sharon loves me and my keen sense for knowing what needs to be clean and what needs to be dirty.” 

Everyone behind the bar groaned in annoyance as Phoenix pushed him back towards the sink, “You’ve lost your privilege of talking you absolute buffoon, go back to the dishpit and reflect on your life choices,” she looked at the clock, then turned back to you and whispered, “Believe it or not, that’s the longest he’s made it without losing his talking privileges all week.”

“But it’s only 9:30?” you questioned.

A cup of mystery appeared in front of you as Bob cut in with a playful grin, “Yeah, he’s making some big strides. Yesterday he only got to 7:05. We open at 7:00.”

You met his eyes and shook your head laughing. “Sounds like you may have been better off with an actual rooster.” You lifted the cup, eyes widening as soon as the hot beverage hit your tongue. “Holy shit, Bob.”

His eyes widened to match yours as he started to reach for the cup, “Fuck do you not like it? I’m so sorry, I can make you something else -”

“Oh, no!” You were vehemently shaking your head, “I didn’t mean it like that,” You pulled the cup out of his reach, “This is just the best coffee I’ve ever had - where have you been all my life? You have to clue me in to what you made so I can order if you aren’t here.”

His heart was fluttering at your kind remarks and the idea of you coming in here more, but he tamped down the feeling. “It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk.” With rosey cheeks he looked down at the rag in his hands and continued, “It’s actually my personal favorite.”

“Well, Bob, it might just be my new personal favorite too.” You slipped a $5 bill out of your laptop case and into the tip jar. You looked back at him and raised your cup with a wink, “Thanks again!” 

Bob was stunned into silence and couldn’t help but watch you as you made yourself at home in a big armchair by the fireplace. Where had you been all of his life?

Phoenix once again startled him when she cleared her throat - he was so wrapped up in thoughts of you he forgot she was there. “Dude, what was that? I can’t even remember the last time you burned a pitcher of milk.”

Hangman joined in from the sinks, “Yeah, man, I didn’t think you were even capable of messing up - you must be down bad.”

He groaned at their prodding, “Fuck off, Jake, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did know what Jake was talking about, but he wouldn’t admit that to the blonde - if his ego got any bigger they’d have to expand into the space next door to fit it all.

Instead, he let your words play on a loop in his head and snuck peaks at you cuddled in that armchair every chance he could. 

He hoped and prayed to every God he could think of.

Please make her a regular.

“I wonder what it’s like to be in love by you, I wondered if I’d ever be in love for you. All these doubts in my head keep me from finding you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to go back to there. You told yourself it was because the coffee had ruined other places for you, but you knew it was Bob. You had stayed in the shop for hours, somehow managing to get a substantial amount of work done between sneaking glances over your screen at the man who rocked glasses better than anyone you’d ever met. Would going back the very next day be weird? Maybe it was, but you didn’t care as you packed up your laptop and laced up your shoes. 

The short journey felt like ages as your heart sped up with your wandering mind. Bob ran rampant through your brain and you found yourself unwilling to even try to stop - stuck on thoughts of him in your kitchen, crafting drinks on your Breville in the morning after a long night together. 

You shouldn’t be thinking of someone you met once in this way. You didn’t even know if he had a partner already! You groaned and let your head hit the wheel - you had to get over it.

If you embarrassed yourself there was no way you could find another comparable shop - the coffee was simply too good and the internet too fast. Why go through all that when you were almost certain he wasn’t interested in you anyways?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you gathered every ounce of courage in your body and went inside. You could do this. 

Bob had spent his morning in a similar fashion, plagued by thoughts of you. He woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual, allowing himself extra time to get ready just in case you happened to come back.

Each time the little bell above the door rang he couldn’t help but check to see if it was you - and his heart sank a little deeper each time it wasn’t. What if you hated the coffee he made you yesterday and that’s why you didn’t come back? What would he say if you did come in the door? Would you give it to him if he asked for your number? 

Who was he kidding? Even if you were single, he didn’t stand a chance when Rooster, Coyote, Hangman, and Phoenix were there.

Ding, ding.

He didn’t bother looking up this time. 

“Bob! Hi!”

He had to be hearing things, had he officially gone crazy?

But sure enough, when he looked up he was met with your smiling face. Oh no. He had been thinking about you coming in all morning, but he wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen.. 

Say something, say something, say something..

“Oh, uh, hey!” Smooth, Bob. He hoped you didn’t see him cringe as soon as the words left his mouth. “Back again already?” Your smile faltered a bit at his words, and he caught his mistake immediately. “Not that I don’t want to see you again, because I do! I was hoping you’d come back, actually. I mean, not in a creepy way, of course.” He could feel himself rambling again, he had to bring this back before he really scared you off. “I’m sorry, let me try that again. Were you wanting the same coffee or do you want to try something new today?”

Now you were smiling wider than before - his rambling was endearing and your heart was nearly bursting at the fact that he was hoping you’d come in again. 

“Well, I was going to get the same thing, but now that you mention it - I think I want to try something new. Got another ace up your sleeve?”

He couldn’t believe you were trusting him blind again. 

A smile now graced his face too, “I think I’ve got one or two left.”

With an iced raspberry white mocha in hand and butterflies loose in your stomach, you set up camp in the same chair you had the day before. 

Back up at the counter, Jake saddled up next to Bob. 

“Two words - Down. Bad.”

“The glasses that you hardly wear .. and makeup, no you don’t really care"

Top Brews had all but become your office - now a permanent part of your daily routine. It had been two weeks since you first found the place but you couldn’t imagine life without it - the drinks were always stellar, you were friends with everyone on staff, and you were getting through work more efficiently than you ever had. 

You really only had one problem with it - Bob. You suspected that if he was available and interested he would’ve made a move by now, but you couldn’t stop your growing feelings for the quiet barista and the little hearts he always poured on the tops of your lattes. 

He made your mornings a little sweeter - often chatting with you over the red espresso machine while he whipped up your drink of the day. You rarely saw him do this with anybody else, usually too in the zone to make small talk, and you couldn’t help but feel special. He was never in too much of a rush to talk to you, and nobody else had ever made you feel so important before.

Through your chats you learned that he owned the place with Natasha, and overtime they somehow roped all of their friends from college into working there with them. Coyote overheard this and appeared out of thin air to inform you that it took major begging to get him to quit his office job and join the staff.

Bob informed you that it really only took a six pack of Dos Equis and the promise of priority aux privileges. (Coyote took a lot of pride in this, spending hours on Spotify crafting playlists for every occasion).

You also learned that, no, their parents don’t hate them, they just liked having their nicknames adorning their tags. They wanted those who came to know they were part of the squad, that they considered every single person who came through those doors a friend - regardless if they came in once or every day. 

You looked forward to these chats more than you’d like to admit.

This particular morning you were not doing well. You had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, things going awry left and right. Your phone hadn’t been fully plugged in and you woke up late. You got a scathing email from an unhappy client, who demanded they get their non-refundable deposit back from the shoot they didn’t show up to. Another client didn’t make any indication whether they liked their gallery or not, leaving you even more insecure. You ripped your last pair of contacts and had to opt for glasses - that were four years old and out of prescription - instead. To top it off, you were missing one of your most important SD cards. 

If you weren’t so superstitious, you would say that things couldn’t get any worse.

For once you were hoping to not see Bob. You didn’t feel like yourself and you were feeling rather self conscious about your appearance. 

Like everything else that morning, you weren’t so lucky. You saw him the second you entered the building and scurried to your armchair instead of the counter to order like normal. You would have to set up camp first and get your coffee once he went to the bathroom or went on break.

Twenty minutes into working and you were left more frustrated than before. Lightroom was crashing on you every five photos, you were developing a migraine from the lack of caffeine, and Bob still had not moved from his place behind the bar. You could feel his eyes on you every so often and you knew he was probably figuring out how to nicely kick you out.

You were loitering after all. 

Suddenly you felt a presence in front of you and you looked up to see Phoenix smiling down at you. 

Here it comes. 

Without a word, she produced a glass from behind her back and placed it on the little table next to you.

“You must have the wrong person, this can’t be for me - I haven’t ordered yet.” You told her, sheepishly pushing the glass away. 

“No, I’m certain this is for you,” she nodded her head in Bob’s direction, who was currently looking anywhere but at you, “Something about how he could tell you’re having a bad day and could use a pick me up. He’s insisting it be on the house and instructed all of us to refuse letting you pay, so, don’t even try. Also, you cannot tell him I told you this, but he won’t shut up about how much he likes your glasses. I think you could get away with never paying here again if you wore those everyday.”

You were shocked, your mouth agape and unable to form words. 

“Oh! I was also sent on operation pick-me-up to give you this,” she fished your SD card out of her apron pocket and handed it to you, “We found it sweeping yesterday and couldn’t tell if it was yours or not. Bob kept it in his wallet for safe keeping until we saw you today, just in case.”

You flipped the little disc around in your fingers - completely shellshocked now.

“I uh, I don’t even know what to say other than thank you, seriously. Are you sure I can’t pay? I feel bad and it’s really no trouble at all,” you said as you fished around in your laptop case for some cash. 

Shaking her head, she started to walk away from you, yelling over her shoulder, “Don’t even try!”

You could feel your migraine dissipating as you sipped on the lavender cold brew topped with a sweet cold foam. 

Bob had saved your entire day. 

You slipped a $20 bill in the tip jar when no one was looking. 

“Oh, I, could only hope that you would feel it too - if we locked eyes right here in this crowded room for just one second it’d just be us two”

A month had passed since your first visit and the tattered blue armchair by the fireplace was now your spot. Sure, it wasn’t written anywhere, but you were there for hours everyday like clockwork. It was common knowledge and the other regulars respected it as your territory, sometimes even going as far as leaving a jacket in place to make sure it was vacant upon your arrival.

You always sat there because it was the comfiest chair, you liked the warmth that came from the fireplace, and the internet connection in that specific part of the cafe was the strongest. You definitely didn’t always sit there because you had a stellar - and discreet - view of the bar.

Okay, maybe you did. 

But if you couldn’t actually be with Bob, there was no harm in looking, right? How could you resist a few peaks here and there when his hands looked that good moving expertly around the bar?

Yeah, that was going with you to the grave. 

It had been a busy morning and there was not an empty chair or table in sight. The crowd was overtaking your space and you could tell, even through your headphones, how loud it was getting. Even the internet was struggling to keep up with the traffic. 

The most recent batch of photos was in the process of exporting and with how slow it was moving, you knew it was going to be a while.

You didn’t mind much. You could allow yourself generous looks at Bob without worrying so much about being caught - everyone behind the bar too preoccupied with the rush at hand to notice - and there was no guilt around being distracted from your own workload.

Without warning, Bob’s eyes snapped up and met your gaze.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. 

You had been caught red-handed, but your eyes stayed locked on his and you nodded at the freshy vacated chair next to yours in a silent invitation. The only way out of the embarrassment now was through, you had to pretend this was the plan all along.

Bob wanted nothing more than to join you in your corner, but there was a hoard of tickets still waiting to be made and Jake was scheduled to take his break first. With an exaggerated look of  disappointment on his face he held up a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other, shrugging his shoulders as a way to politely decline your invitation. 

You nodded in understanding, but he didn’t miss the dejected look in your eyes as they dropped back to the laptop screen. 

God damnit. He was grateful that his business was flourishing, but he finally had a chance and he was barred from taking it. 

Unbeknownst to him, Rooster had seen the entire exchange. 

“Hey man, I got bar so you can take your break,” he stated, leaving little room for argument.

“Oh, uh, I actually think Hangman is supposed to break first today,” Bob responded, eyes downcast and sadness laced in his tone.

Jake was quick to interject, “Yeah! I’m starving and I opened so if anyone is going on break its -” 

He was cut off by Bradley’s elbow making sharp contact with his gut.

“Nope! It’s Bob. Here’s a slice of banana bread big enough for two, do with it what you will.” Bradley winked, shoving a plate in Bob’s hands and shooing him away from the counter

Hangman grumbled, still doubled over and cradling his stomach, “We really need an HR department.”

Bob ignored him as he untied his apron and grabbed two forks, making his way over to the fireplace before he could talk himself out of it. 

You thought nothing of it when you felt a presence in the chair beside you - it had been occupied for almost the entire morning - but you were confused when a plastic fork suddenly appeared in front of your eyes.

“Not sure if I can finish this piece of banana bread on my own, interested in sharing?” Bob asked you with a blush on his cheeks. 

You grabbed the fork out his hand and clinked it against his, “I would love nothing more.” You took a big bite and your eyes got large, “I need this recipe, I need it more than I’ve needed anything else in the history of needing things.”

Bob let out a chuckle, “I wish I could give it to you, but unfortunately Rooster has it under lock and key. Believe me when I say we’ve tried to get it from him since freshman year, but It’s his mom’s old recipe that they used to make together before she died.”

You were silent for a moment.

“That’s actually really sweet. Does he do a lot in the kitchen then?” you asked softly.

Laughing, Bob answered, “Oh absolutely not, he’s a master baker but I wouldn’t trust him to make a box of mac n’ cheese. A truly horrid cook.” You laughed this time, and he continued, “He was actually the first one to join the team here, his only request was that he wanted to bake. He says it’s to keep the memory of his parents alive, but truthfully I think it’s when he feels closest to them.”

You hummed in understanding and took another bite, “Well, here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw then.”

Bob took another bite before raising his fork, “Here, here!”

The conversation stood still for a moment before you turned to Bob with a serious look on your face, “Rooster, Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, Hangman, Coyote - everyone else has silly nicknames. How come you don’t have one?”

“Bob actually is a nickname, even though it’s a derivative of my real name. I used to go by Robby, but when I was sharing a dorm with Hangman our freshman year he would always use Bob’s Burgers to fall asleep.” 

“That’s absurd! Everyone knows that American Dad is the superior adult cartoon for sleeping purposes!” you quipped.

“That’s what I always said!” Bob agreed before continuing, “Anyways, the opening jingle started to really drive me crazy but I never said anything about it until one fated day when he put it on while we were all hanging out. I heard one note and went ballistic - we got in the biggest fight we’ve ever had and it ended with him saying that I was ‘jealous that I was the inferior Bob.’ The name just stuck after that,” He ended with a shrug. 

You had a hand over your mouth, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You started laughing, and before he knew what was happening, Bob was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and his stomach was burning.

Wiping away stray tears, he looked down at his watch and a deep frown overtook his features.

“Are you okay?” You asked, suddenly worried that you had offended him by laughing so hard.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. I’m just bummed that my break is almost over, none of those fools,” he pointed to the bar, “keep as good of company as you do.” 

You watched as Rooster and Hangman thumb wrestled, Fanboy and Payback standing to the side, acting as referees, “I don’t know, that looks like a pretty intense match.” Bob just laughed again and shook his head. 

“I enjoyed this too, you know. You should join me on your breaks more often, Robby.” 

“I look forward to it,” he said earnestly, leaving you to enjoy your iced strawberry matcha with a new stampede of elephants taking residence in your stomach. 

“I’m just another boy in a coffee shop, dreaming of a love that’s not .. I’m just dreaming of a girl in a coffee shop”

Another month had come and gone, and Bob didn’t let a day go by without sitting with you on his break. If he sometimes took 25 minutes instead of 15, well, nobody said anything about it. Everyone loved you, and everyone loved how happy you seemed to make Bob. 

Everyone was, however, frustrated beyond belief that neither of you had made a move yet. 

Phoenix was the first to crack, and it was under her supervision that operation intervention staff meeting (everyone thought the name Rooster pitched was stupid, but nobody could come up with something better) was born. 

When Bob arrived at her house, ready to handle all the usual housekeeping, he was surprised to find that everyone was already there and sitting in a circle - he always the first to arrive.

“Bob, dear boy. Come in and sit with us.” Rooster said, trying to act normal yet failing miserably. 

The weird tension in the room was palpable, and Bob was unsure what to do other than oblige, “What’s going on?” he asked, before finding a place to sit between Fanboy and Phoenix.

“We’ve decided, dear boy, that you finally grow a spine and ask her out,” Rooster replied, crossing his arms.

“First of all, stop calling me ‘dear boy’ - it’s really weird. Second of all, ask who out? I don’t know what you guys are on about.” Bob coolly responded. 

Suddenly a hoard of pillows was thrown his way and everyone wore the same displeased look on their faces. They were obviously talking about you, and they knew that Bob knew they were talking about you.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I get it. I can’t ask her out though! I love talking to her everyday, she’s one of my best friends at this point. It would make things weird,” he continued.

Hangman groaned, responding before anyone else could, “You really think that would make it weird? Really? After two months of weird sexual tension that everyone but the two of you can see?”

Now he was on the receiving end of the swarm of throw pillows as a chorus of “not the time” “really Hangman?” and “you’re disgusting” rang out.

Payback, who had been quietly observing up until this point, decided it was time to step in. “Listen, man. If you really don’t want to ask her out, none of us are going to make you do it.” Phoenix looked like she was about to object but he shot her a look, “None of us are going to make you do it.” 

Bob looked relieved for a moment, but Payback wasn’t finished yet, “However, I think you’re doing yourself, and her, a huge injustice if you don’t. She looks at you like you hung the stars, and you look at her like she hung the moon. We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but don’t you want to find out how much sweeter life can be if you stopped selling yourself short?”

 “I don’t know how, and I’m scared.” Bob said quietly.

Everyone seemed to sober at his words, and Phoenix pulled him into a tight hug on the couch. She took hold of his hands and looked him in the eyes, “Then we’ll help you figure it out, and we’ll be there with you every step of the way. You deserve this, Bob, don’t let her pass you by only wondering what could’ve been.”

So, they all spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan - eventually falling asleep sprawled around Phoenix’s living room.

•••••

Everything seemed normal when you arrived at Top Brews, albeit there did seem to be a fair fewer cars in the parking lot. You didn’t think much of it, though, Tuesday’s were generally a pretty slow day at the shop. 

It wasn’t until you walked up to the door and noticed the sign that said your name and to not enter unless it was you that you realized this was not going to be an average Tuesday morning. 

Once inside, you followed a trail of meticulously placed coffee beans to your usual corner, where Bob sat nervously with a coffee mug in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other. You could barely hear Billy Joel over the blood rushing to your head, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves and anticipation crash into you.

You had a million questions, but settled on a familiar one instead, “What’s in the cup today, Robby?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk. I’m not sure if you remember this or not, but I made it for you the first time you came in,” he stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day. I’ve tested a thousand different recipes - not all winners, by the way - to make sure I can always make you something new. I used to hate taking breaks, but since I started sitting with you they are the highlight of my day. I never realized how much I missed being called Robby until you said it. I really don’t want to mess this up with you, you make my life sweeter in every way without even realizing it. If this is weird, and I’m misreading things, feel free to walk out that door and pretend this never happened but I am begging you, if that’s the case, please don’t stop coming -”

He was cut off by your lips making contact with his.

Pulling back, you allowed your eyes to meet his, “I remember every drink you’ve ever made me, I keep them saved to a list on my phone. I came back to this shop because of you. Watching you make drinks and sing whatever song is playing under your breath because you think nobody is looking has become my favorite pastime. I can’t even use my own Breville anymore because all I can think about is you using it instead. You’ve overtaken every inch of my brain and you’ve made the most bitter days sweet again. I could never stop coming through that door because I know you’re on the other side of it. This is by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, and I love it.”

You connected your lips to his again when a sudden roar of cheers and clapping filled the space. 

Bob pulled away this time - laughing softly at your startled expression whilst the others poured out of the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, I had a little help.”

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

taglist:

@fogle97 @wkndwlff @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @abaker74 @starlightstories @aviatorobsessed @accioprocrastination @shanimallina87 @roostette @cassiemitchellrecs @waklman @cherrycola27 @nuvoleincielo @roosterbruiser @mayhemmanaged @genius2050 @dempy @dakotakazansky

#robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #tgm #dagger squad #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch #Spotify

[vivalas-vega]

shot through the heart / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

i guess i only know how to write and post at 3 am lol -- I saw a few prompts on a post i reblogged a few days ago and got inspired to write this !!! i hope you all like it and as always let me know what you think !!! 

shot through the heart / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

add yourself to my taglist

prompts:  “looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” - “you’re pretty” “you’re drunk”

word count: 3.5k

warnings: drinking, language, a lil makeout sesh

The energy in the air was infectious, nothing but laughter and love filling the space while the alcohol flowed freely. Your feet ached beneath you as you danced and sang along to an early 2000’s classic, smirking as your teammates watched through impressed eyes as you seamlessly balanced on one foot to unfasten your heel before switching to the other without missing a word or a beat and tossing them nowhere in particular. You took Rooster’s outstretched hands and swayed your hips in rhythm with his, you weren’t even sure what you were all doing at this point could be considered singing, but you were doing it anyway, spurred by the open bar and overwhelming joy in the room.

“Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got, I’m still I’m still Jenny from the Block!” you sang around your laughter as Rooster passed you to Phoenix and from the corner of your eye you could see the man of the hour and his bride coming to join you. Mindful of her train you twirled her around in circles before she tried to drop it low the best she could in her form fitting gown. 

“Careful, Mrs. Machado, don’t tempt me,” you giggled as you passed her back to her now-husband, slipping away from the group and making your way to the bar where Penny was sitting alongside Maverick.

“Not tending bar and yet here I find you,” you teased as you ordered another paloma.

“You all wore me out, I don’t know how any of you are still dancing,” she laughed and Maverick nodded in agreement.

“Oh, can’t handle a little dancing, Mav? Thought you were better than that,” you shot back and he laughed.

“Just you wait,” he warned before you went back to the floor, standing on the fringe as you watched your friends… no, your family having the time of their lives with the biggest smile on your face. 

“Taking a breather?” A voice said suddenly beside you and you looked up to find Hangman, that megawatt smile never leaving his face once today. 

“Refueling, I made this playlist and there are some good ones coming up,” you said before taking a hearty sip of your drink. 

“Hey, you can only take half-credit,” he said, narrowing his eyes down at you and you just waved your hand in his direction.

“You contributed nothing but distractions,” you joked, recalling the night you two had set aside some time to tackle your task from the bride and groom. 

“That’s enough Taylor Swift,” Hangman groaned and you just shook your head.

“It’s a wedding, Hangman. There’s never too much Taylor. Besides, these are requests directly from the bride, I’m just fulfilling my duties.” The bride was your best friend Abby, your biggest cheerleader and confidant from elementary school days, no matter the station or deployment your friendship had never wavered and when you met Coyote upon your return to Top Gun you knew without question you needed to get the two of them together.

“Okay, well this has to be on the playlist…” he said, trailing off as You Give Love a Bad Name poured through your bluetooth speaker and you just shook your head as Hangman started bobbing his head along and singing with such conviction you were sure he thought he was Bon Jovi himself. You couldn’t stifle your laughter watching as he stood and walked around the coffee table, giving you a performance worthy of the biggest of stages. You tried to fight it, you really did, but you loved this song just a little bit more than you wanted to rain on Hangman’s parade. Soon you were dancing around your living room with him, shouting lyrics and laughing until your sides ached. 

It felt like fate… if you believed in that sort of thing, and you weren’t sure if you did but suddenly Bon Jovi was belting through the speakers and Hangman was giving you that same look he had that night, challenging you as he started to back up slowly with his hands up as if to say ‘you coming?’ Of course you were. You downed the rest of your drink, casting it aside on a nearby table and chasing after him. The two of you danced around each other, in your own little bubbles as you let loose and enjoyed the song yet somehow still completely in sync, turning to face each other at the exact same moment to shout ‘shot through the heart and you’re to blame, you give love a bad name’ before letting out loud laughs and continuing to move to the beat. 

The entire squad had their eyes on you, their movements slowing as they watched the two of you so wrapped up in your own world, not paying attention to anyone but the other and once they broke through the shock of seeing you this way they were grateful. You and Hangman never really got along, not necessarily adversaries but definitely not friends either. They’d all assumed you’d become attached at the hip with your mutual love for classic rock, borderline obsessional investment in professional sports and similar skill set at a pool table but you just weren’t. You never really clicked. In the air you were consistently in tandem, the only person on the team he actually worked well with but once you touched down on the tarmac it was awkward exchanges and minimal interaction at the Hard Deck. It wasn’t until that night in your living room after a few too many glasses of wine and an impromptu dance party that you finally connected.

“Oh god, I love this song,” you said breathlessly as it morphed into ‘Autumn Town Leaves’ by Iron & Wine, flowing through the space and he just grinned down at you.

“You did pick it,” he said and he held out his hand for you to take. “Dance with me?”

“What have we been doing all this time?” you asked with a playful smirk and he just rolled his eyes before taking your hand for himself and pulling you into him. Earlier in the day you didn’t feel quite so small beside him… not when he clinked his beer bottle against yours in a pre-ceremony toast, not when you walked down the aisle as maid of honor and best man, not when he stood to steady you after your heel almost slipped off the edge of the raised platform during your speech but standing here now, easily swaying to the beat with your hand firmly in his grasp and the other around your waist you felt so small, so vulnerable under his gaze.

“You look like you’ve been having a lot of fun tonight, I’m glad,” he observed, pulling his eyes from yours to look around the space for a moment. “You did all of this, it’s impressive. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull off her casual and intimate vibe in this setting.” You really did have your work cut out out for you, with the knowledge of a sudden deployment always looming you’d rushed to pull everything together when you knew everyone could be there, leaving you closely monitoring (harassing, as Hangman would call it) a few local venues before snagging a rather fancy ballroom in a beautiful beachfront hotel thanks to a last minute cancellation. With the majority of the lights turned off, a hell of a lot of string lights, and carefully curated décor you’d managed to pull it all together. “You did good, kid.” You flushed under his praise, not entirely sure how to handle it.

“I wanted them to have the wedding they deserve,” you said softly, peering around his shoulder to watch the couple wrapped up in complete bliss as they danced a few feet away.

“Well, the way I see it, this reception is for you. A celebration for all your hard work.”

“You didn’t do so bad yourself, best man. Thank you for helping when I needed it,” you replied and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, drawing your eyes down before you forced them upwards.

“Thanks for asking, thought I was going to have to force you to delegate,” he teased, twirling you out and away from him before pulling your chest into his back, arms wrapped around you as your hands flew up to brace yourself, gripping onto his forearm.

“I know how to delegate,” you protested and you felt him rumble with laughter behind you.

“No, sweetheart… you don’t,” he twirled you again, bringing you face-to-face again as the song ended and switched to something more upbeat but you felt trapped, not wanting to let go of his hand, not wanting him to remove his from your waist.

“I, uh,” you stumbled over your words as you realized your position under the weight of his gaze. “I have something I need to grab for Abby before they slip off for the night.” you said as you pulled away and made your way to where you’d been with Rooster and Phoenix earlier, looking for your shoes. 

“Everything okay?” Rooster asked, watching as you frantically searched under tables and cursing yourself for being so careless with where you’d put them.

“Yeah, uh… just need my shoes. Have a feeling a place like this would frown upon me stomping around the common areas barefoot,” you replied.

“You and Hangman are very chummy tonight,” he stated and you looked up briefly to glare at him.

“I don’t know what you’re- it’s wedding politics. The best man and maid of honor are like… I don’t know, a team for the whole wedding,” you shot back and he let out a loud laugh.

“Slow dancing and that little Bon Jovi moment, which by the way felt like some kind of inside joke and was very alienating and uncomfortable to be around, is not politics but, whatever you say,” he sighed, grabbing your shoes from under a nearby table and handing them to you and you took them before all but running out of the ballroom and into the brightly lit lobby of the hotel. All of your earlier coordination was lost as you struggled to balance while fastening your heels and waiting for the elevator to arrive, stumbling in when the doors opened, letting out a sigh of relief as you leaned against the back wall. 

“Oh, for the love of-” you muttered when a hand stuck through at the last moment, prompting the doors to reopen seconds before they’d shut as Hangman slid in and stood before you with a confused look on his face.

“You good?” he asked, looking you up and down and noting your slightly dejected posture in stark contradiction to how exuberant you’d been all night. 

“Yeah, just a last minute bridal present… don’t want to forget it,” you answered, wanting him to drop it and get off on the next floor. 

“You sure? You seem off,” he pressed and you looked up at him with annoyance.

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said just as the elevator shuddered beneath you and your hands flew out to grip the metal bar behind you as it sputtered to a halt. The harsh lighting cut out, leaving you in complete darkness for a few minutes before fluorescent emergency lights flickered on with a faint buzz. “No… no, no, no this is not happening.” you groaned, stepping forward to press the call button to the front desk, listening to it ring and ring before disconnecting. In your periphery you watched Hangman slide down the wall and stretch his legs out before him, patting the space beside him and you sank to the floor with a sigh.

“Looks like we’re trapped,” he stated and you turned to look at him with annoyance for the most obvious observation. 

“What gave you that impression?” you asked with an eye roll and he shrugged beside you.

“Someone will notice we’re gone soon, we’ll try the call button again in a few minutes… they probably just went to break,” he said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“No, they’ll probably think I went to pass out somewhere and you snuck off with one of the other bridesmaids that have been ogling you all evening.” you said with thinly veiled contempt for your fellow bridal party and he chuckled.

“Aren’t they supposed to be your high school friends too?” he asked and you just shook your head.

“I love Abby, I really do but… they’re her friends from the cheer team and I didn’t know why she was friends with them then and I don’t know why she’s friends with them now.” 

“Were you not a cheerleader?” he teased.

“Are you really asking me that?” you asked and he laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, definitely not the type.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You knew you had insinuated it first but you suddenly felt offended.

“You said it!” he defended, shooting his hands out in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to agree with me!”

“Do you want me to think of you as the cheerleading type?” he asked and this stumped you.

“Well, no, but-”

“Then why are we arguing?”

“I don’t know, I just… we’re in this fucking tiny metal death trap just waiting to plunge to our deaths so perhaps I’m a little on edge,” you sighed.

“We fly around in cramped cockpits and dodge literal missiles for a living and this is what has you rattled?” he asked as if it was the silliest thing in the world, and really it was.

“At least in my cramped cockpit I have the canopy, I can see all the open air around me and I’m in control. Here I am at the mercy of some bottle blonde at the front desk sticking around to do her job long enough to get us out of here.” 

“Have faith in the bottle blonde,” he chuckled and you leaned your head back against the wall. Silence settled over the two of you and you tried to ignore the way his eyes trailed over you… something they’d been doing a lot more recently. Until that night with the wedding playlist you weren’t even certain he noticed you… and frankly you didn’t really notice him either. Even over surface level conversations when you were left alone by the rest of your friends you often felt like he was looking right through you, but you never cared because your eyes were always darting around looking for somebody else but now you felt undeniably seen by him and you didn’t like the way it prickled your spine and sent a wave of warmth flooding through your chest and flushed your cheeks. You didn’t like the way his hand felt against your waist and you definitely didn’t like how weightless you felt when he twirled you around. You also didn’t like the fact that those were all lies. “You’re very deep in thought,” he said suddenly, pulling you from your daze. 

“I’m not,” you replied softly and he subtly nodded, eyes still trained on you and your heart beat out of rhythm for a moment when they locked with yours. He looked as if he was about to say something, like it was right there on the tip of his tongue with that mischievous glint in his eyes and you cocked your head slightly. “What?”

“You’re pretty,” he stated simply.

“Oh, you’re drunk,” you laughed, brushing him off entirely as your ears burned.

“Only a little, and you’re pretty,” he repeated and you furrowed your brows at him for a moment.

“Well, you’re pretty too.” you replied a little awkwardly and he chuckled. 

“I wanted you to know, just in case someone hasn’t told you today… which would be a damn shame if they haven’t, that you were the prettiest girl in that room tonight.” 

“Don’t tell Abby that,” you said softly, still trying to deflect as you looked down to your hands in your lap.

“I wouldn’t want to tell Abby that, I only want to tell you,” he hooked his finger under your chin and pulled your gaze up, “I don’t - uh… I’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time,” he confessed. “Since the first day I met you but good grief you know how to make a guy feel invisible,” he chuckled. “Which is okay, we’re just coworkers… you’re under no obligation to give me the time to tell you you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen but you are, and I just wanted you to know that.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he dropped his hand from your face, “we’re not just coworkers.”

“We are, and that’s okay.”

“I didn’t think you ever noticed me… not really, not unless we were in the air. I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible,” you said softly and he shook his head.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart. And for the record, I always notice you.” You smiled at this, cheeks warming as you looked up at him with bright eyes and it just reaffirmed what he already knew… the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“I wasn’t just returning the compliment out of obligation earlier, I really do think you’re pretty,” you said and he frowned.

“Just pretty? Not devastatingly handsome and the man of your dreams?”

“Well, that’s just a mouthful,” you giggled and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. You’d subconsciously drifted closer, allowing your thigh to press against his and you felt your heart hammering in your chest, almost drowning out his words entirely.

“But you didn’t deny it,” he smirked.

“I didn’t deny it,” you confirmed and you felt his breath fan over your lips as he inched closer, eyes searching yours for any hesitation, any indication that he was misreading this moment and trying to will it into something else. The air between you felt charged, igniting a buzz along your skin as your breathing grew ragged under the weight of the anticipation and you pushed yourself forward slightly, eyes fluttering closed and allowing your lips to brush against his slightly. His fingers trailed up your neck, gently grasping the junction of your throat and your jaw to pull you closer and envelop you in a kiss. You melted into him, your hand moving to rest atop his as your other cupped his cheek. It was slow, slower than you might have anticipated from him if you’d ever given yourself the chance to think of what this moment might be like. He was taking his time, savoring the moment and prolonging it as long as he could. When his other hand gripped at your waist you let out a soft moan, parting your lips and allowing him to explore you with his tongue and the taste of him made you dizzy… faint spearmint and scotch. It was more intoxicating than the tequila you’d been drinking like water all night and you felt drunk from his touch as his hands wandered down, sliding over your leg peeking out of the slit in your dress. Desire thrummed through your veins as you moved your hand to tangle your fingers in the hair at the base of his head, gently pulling him further into you as you lowered yourself to the floor completely and created space for him to slot himself between your legs. You were so lost in the moment, in the feeling of his weight on top of you and how intentionally he was kissing you that you didn’t even feel the elevator shake to life beneath you as you trailed the heel of your shoe along his leg. You didn’t hear the ding of the doors opening when you tangled your hands in his hair as he kissed down the expanse of your neck and you almost didn’t hear the shocked gasps of your friends as they witnessed your compromising position on the floor of the elevator but that… that you did hear. 

The two of you shot up, Jake all but lifting you to your feet as you smoothed your dress and tried to avoid the eye contact of every single one of your teammates, spare Coyote and Abby, standing before you. They all filed into the elevator silently, and Bob carefully handed you your clutch.

“Grabbed that for you,” he muttered and you nodded in thanks as your cheeks burned.

“Party was winding down, thought we’d head back to Rooster’s room for a little after party if you’d like to join,” Phoenix said, with a knowing smirk on her face as she watched the numbers tick by on the screen above the door. 

“Sounds fun,” you said, clearing your throat and out of the corner of your eye you saw Rooster fist bump Jake and you used your clutch to hit him in the chest as Fanboy succumbed to his laughter. One by one you all joined in, filling the small space with the sound and you carefully tangled your fingers with Jake’s, looking up at him with a soft smile. “To be continued?” you whispered, barely to be heard over everyone else and he nodded.

“To be continued.”

part two

#Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman fluff #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

[fandomxpreferences]

I Have a Girlfriend

“I’m Never Drinking Again” Part Two

Paring: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader

TW: swearing, alcohol and drunken shenanigans, I believe that's all

Summary: A night out with the dagger squad leads to quite an amusing Bradley Bradshaw.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: 1,000% this Is how I see rooster in this lmao. also I was going to queue this but I literally can't sit on a fic once its done so you guys are being spoiled with two in one night.

Rooster isn't usually much of a drinker. He nurses a couple of beers when you go out with the daggers, but he knows how to be the life of the party sober. He prefers to have fun while being completely in control and he hates the idea of you drinking without him watching over you. 

However, tonight is a different story. Jake and Phoenix are awful influences and between the two of them, they've managed to get Bradley sloppy drunk. You shake your head as you watch the pilots dancing to some 80s song on the jukebox. You and Maverick have assigned yourselves as the designated drivers, knowing damn well the rest of the group would end up passed out in random places if you didn't. 

Bradley is sporting a crooked smile and a light blush on his cheeks from the alcohol coursing through his blood. He's wearing his aviators inside and at some point managed to lose his tank top, now just wearing an open Hawaiian shirt. 

You've only seen Bradley drunk once and you don't remember much of it seeing as you were matching him shot for shot. You and Mav chat away, glancing at the group every few minutes. Jake has untucked his shirt and Phoenix is singing into a pool cue. 

It makes your heart happy to see your friends letting loose. As much fun as he is sober, drunk Bradley is unmatched. His energy is magnetic and it seems everyone in the room is laughing and dancing with him at one point or another. You smile to yourself, proud that you get to call him yours. 

You're listening to Mav tell a story about Jake throwing up after having one too many fruity drinks he swears he doesn't like when you hear a loud chorus of cheers. You look over and almost spit your drink out.

Bradley is standing on the bar top waving his shirt around while people throw money at him. You notice his chest and abs glistening and try to recall when the hell he got wet. His hands reach for his belt buckle and you launch toward him, spilling your drink in the process. You fight your way over to the bar and jump up on a stool so you can reach him. 

You manage to stop him just before he catches a public indecency charge and all but drag him back down to solid ground. You're met with protests and boos but shoot the crowd a look and they shut up. Bradley stumbles behind you as you pull him over to a booth and motion for Mav to get him some water. 

Rooster practically falls into the seat giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips and an amused smirk. It takes him a second to notice your presence and when he does he looks up. His eyes are glassy and unfocused and he scowls at you. 

Maverick walks over with a pitcher of water and Bradley's shirt and you shoot him an appreciative smile. He stays with you to make sure that you don't need help. Bradley would never do anything out of line, but he's a big guy, and trying to support him on your own would be a near-impossible feat. 

You pour a cup of water and place it down in front of him. "Drink." You order while pointing at the glass. Rooster wrinkles his nose in disgust and scoots further away from you. Mav shoots you a look of confusion and you return it with a frown. 

You reach out to run your hand through Bradley's hair the way he loves and he recoils, letting out something akin to a squeal as he tries to avoid your touch. Now you're really confused. "What the hell are you doing?" Your voice is sassy but you have a light smile. 

"I don't want you." His words are so slurred you barely catch what he says, but when it registers hurt shoots through your chest. You take a step back and fold your arms, retreating into yourself. "Why not?"

He looks at you as if you've grown a third head and pulls his phone out. He holds it up to show you his lock screen, it's a picture of the two of you at the beach. Your eyebrows shoot up and you wait for him to explain. 

"I have a girlfriend." He says matter of factly while dramatically pointing at your face on his screen. You cover your mouth with your hand trying not to laugh at him. "I'm gonna call her, I miss her." He pouts and you watch as he fumbles through putting in his password and finding your contact. 

He presses call and flops back on the bench with his eyes closed. You feel your phone start vibrating and debate whether or not you should actually answer it. Bradley's face has a childlike excitement on it at the idea of talking to you and you decide to play along. 

You slide the button over and press the phone up to your ear as Maverick laughs next to you. "Hey, baby." You watch as a bright smile lights up Bradley's face when he hears your voice and your heart flutters. 

"Hiii sweet girl. Where'd you run off to? I miss you." He sulks and you almost choke on a laugh. 

"I'm still here pretty boy. I see you laying on a bench, I'll be right there." Rooster's eyes shoot open and your lips quirk up at the absurdity of the situation. He struggles to sit up for a second, grasping around to get his bearings before his eyes meet yours. 

He reaches out and makes grabby hands at you before pulling you down to sit in his lap. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder and inhales your scent. You reach back to run your hand through his hair and he lets out a content sigh. 

His eyebrows furrow when he sees the water sitting on the table and he turns haphazardly to look at you. "When did that get there?" He asks completely bewildered. You smile at him and run your fingers along his jawline. "I brought it for you. You need to drink some water or you're going to get sick." You explain gently. 

He nods his head and chugs the water without any more questions. "Slow down, baby. It's not going anywhere." You laugh and he smiles sheepishly at you. His eyes start to droop and you share a look with Mav silently agreeing it's time to get him home. 

You cup Bradley's cheek and bring his attention to you. "I'm going to get you home so you can sleep this off. Do you think you can stand so Mav can help me get you to the car?"

He nods his head lazily and you stand up off his lap. He clambers to his feet and stumbles, almost toppling over. Bradley has some height on the both of you but you manage to wrangle him out to the Bronco and get him buckled in. 

You turn to Mav before climbing in the driver's side. "Are you sure you're okay to get everyone home?" He waves his hand dismissively and laughs. "Trust me, I've dealt with worse. Go, get him home safe."

You nod and give him a hug before driving your hot mess of a boyfriend home. Once you're there, getting him inside is a whole new challenge. He fell asleep in the car and seems even drunker if that's possible. 

You manage to get him inside to your shared bedroom by the skin of your teeth and you plop him down on the bed. You sigh as you walk into the ensuite, stopping to drop your clothes in the hamper on the way. You brush your teeth and wash your face before facing the 6-foot pilot passed out in the other room. 

When you walk back in, you groan at the sight of him on the floor. His shirt is still off from the bar and his pants are halfway down his legs. It seems he tried to change himself before giving up halfway through and slumping over on the carpet with his mouth hanging open. 

You shake him awake and he swats at your hand mumbling for you to go away. "Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw. I've had about enough. Get your ass up in this bed so I can go to sleep." You scold and he drags himself up onto the bed. It's a messy tangle of flailing arms and legs and you can't help but laugh at the sight. 

Once he kicks off his jeans and is settled under the covers, you grab a trash can and Gatorade along with painkillers for the morning. You crawl under the covers and even in his drunken stupor, Bradley still reaches out to find you. 

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight, pretty boy. I love you." You're met with soft snores and you roll over and shut your eyes. It's going to be one hell of a morning.

#rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw topgun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun

[beyondthesefourwalls]

What Goes Around (Comes Around)

Summary: Bradley didn’t do relationships, and neither did you. The arrangement you had worked perfectly for ten years, getting together whenever your paths crossed. But after the two of you were stationed permanently on the same squad, suddenly what you have isn’t quite enough for him anymore. It’s not until a close call in the air that he finally gathers the courage to admit it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n, can be read as unnamed OC)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: friends with benefits relationship, smut (porn with feelings, basically), language, close calls in the air.

_______

His hands, normally steady while he was in the cockpit, were shaking. His knuckles strained from how hard he was gripping the throttle to make sure he kept control of his aircraft. He could hear you joking with Phoenix over the comms and the laughter that normally made him smile had the fear he was feeling just moments before transitioning into a white hot anger. 

“Maybe I should steal your callsign, Phoenix. I’m the one who is rising from the ashes now.” 

He couldn’t fucking believe you. 

“Karma,” he snapped, cutting off Phoenix’s response and yours and Bob’s laughter. “Get back to base.”

“What-” 

“Now,” he barked. It was quiet over the comms as the three others in the air with him processed his tone. “Karma.” 

“You got it, Lieutenant Bradshaw.” 

He clenched his jaw so tight that it started to ache. Your voice was tinted with sarcasm, but you followed his orders nonetheless.

“Lighten up, Rooster. We’re all fine.” 

He knew that Phoenix was right. The three pilots, himself included, and the one WSO in the air under his command as Team Leader were fine. But that almost wasn’t the case, and he seemed to be the only one taking it seriously. 

“Exercise is over. Let’s get back.” he said, unbuckling the mask on his helmet and letting it fall. He didn’t have anything left to say that would be appropriate with everyone listening. 

You were still standing near your plane when he descended from his, your arms crossed over your chest and a blank expression on your face. He had never known someone as capable of hiding every single one of their emotions until he met you. But it had been ten years, and he knew you intimately enough to catch your tells now. You were tapping your finger just the slightest bit against your opposite arm as you waited for him; you were nervous. 

Good. 

He kept his gaze straight ahead as he walked in your direction. He didn’t stop as he passed you, barely even slowed down, but he spoke lowly enough that only you would be able to hear his words.

“I’ll see you at my place tonight.” 

_______

You’re already there when he pulled the Bronco into his driveway.  He had stayed on base to shower and change, but by the looks of you still in your flight suit sitting on the steps leading up to his small porch, you had come straight here. You hadn’t let yourself in despite having a key. 

You raised your head in his direction when he slammed the driver’s side door closed. He thought the shower and drive home would calm some of his nerves, but seeing you just made the anger flood his veins all over again. He forced himself to take a deep breath before he moved toward the house. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

He walked up the stairs beside you and crossed the porch to unlock the front door without a word. He heard the sigh you let out and the shuffle when you stood to follow him inside. You closed the door behind you as he made his way into the kitchen. 

“What’s your problem?” 

He still didn’t respond to you, focusing instead on grabbing the bottle of cheap whiskey he kept in the cabinet and downing a heavy shot of it. When he went to pour himself a second, you scoffed. 

“Are you planning on giving me the silent treatment all night? Because if you are, I’ll just le-” 

He slammed the bottle down and grabbed you, hauling your body against his as he brought his lips down to yours roughly. You gasped at the suddenness of it and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He felt the moment you started to relax against him and just as quickly as he initiated it, he pulled away. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Your chest heaved and your eyes were wide, already slightly glassed over. “What are you talking about?” 

“I told you not to go above 7Gs. Not in that terrain.” 

It took a moment but he watched as your eyes cleared and what he was talking about clicked in your head. 

“This is about the training exercise?” 

“No, Karma. This is about you going into fucking g-loc because you disobeyed direct orders and climbed to over 9Gs after I explicitly told you not to.” 

You gave him an incredulous look and shook your head like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. It made the anger flash hotter. “Rooster, I - are you kidding me right now?” 

“Are you kidding me right now?” he snapped back, his voice raising. You seemed startled at his tone but you didn’t back down - you never did. 

“The point of the exercise was seeing what we would need to execute a mission in that environment. 7 wasn’t going to cut it.” 

“And instead of waiting for the go ahead, you force yourself into more, even as I’m telling you to stop.”

“Is that what this is? Your ego is bruised because I didn’t listen to you when you were team leader?” You laughed humorlessly like you had him all figured out when really, you didn’t have a clue.

“You went into g-loc!” he repeated loudly. 

“You got tone on me and snapped me out of it.” 

“But what if I wouldn’t have? Huh? I would have had to watch you crash into a goddamn mountain. And then you laugh with Phoenix after you level out like I almost didn’t just watch you burn in? I’m not watching you fucking die!” he yelled. 

You looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. Bradley felt like he was going to choke as all the emotions from earlier washed back over him. His voice was gentler this time when he spoke. “I can’t, baby. I can’t.”   

The sound of his heavy breathing was the only sound filling the space around you. After a long moment, you take in a shaky breath, releasing it slowly. You licked your lips as you no doubt contemplated your response to him. 

“Rooster…Bradley, I don’t understand,” you finally said. 

“What part of me not being able to lose you do you not understand?” he asked, taking a step closer to you. “You’re everything to me, Karma. You have to know that by now.” 

Your eyes widened even further, your lips parting in surprise. You stuttered over your words. “I..We..we aren’t even together, Bradley.”

And wasn’t that the unfortunate truth. 

You weren’t together.

Bradley had met you ten years ago when you were both stationed in Key West. The attraction was almost immediate and it only took a few months before you were sneaking into each other's base housing on a regular basis to work out all of your pent up energy and find comfort in another human body. Bradley didn’t do relationships and neither did you; it was a perfect arrangement. You could keep what happened within the four walls of your respective rooms on the ground and not have it go up in the air with you because there were no emotions that risked flying away. 

When you got called for a change of station a year and a half into it, it wasn’t a hard goodbye. Bradley could find another woman to warm his bed, even if she didn’t come with your wit and the natural ability you had to make him laugh.

A year later, you both were deployed on the same carrier. Neither of you slept alone the 12 weeks you were on board. Then came the 6 weeks a year after that, and then the two months  in Korea the year after that.

And then you were part of the same Top Gun class. Bradley thought that’s when things started to shift. He started thinking about you between your random run ins, wondering where you were or what you were doing. You started texting and keeping up with each other outside of when you fell into bed together, though that certainly never stopped when you found yourselves in the same vicinity. 

When the Uranium mission happened, Bradley wasn’t surprised to see you there. If he was considered the best of the best, there was no doubt in his mind that you were, too. You were the first person he sought out after he and Mav crash landed back onto the carrier. You slipped away from the crowds on deck to an abandoned, stuffy storage closet. You didn’t fuck, but you held onto one another tightly for several long moments. In some ways, it was the most intimate the two of you had ever been. 

It went unspoken that the arrangement you had would continue when the both of you got permanently stationed in Fightertown. But it was more than just a release of tension and a warm body in bed, now. It was bringing each other coffee in the morning and dinners and movie nights and spending time together with no intentions. Neither of you ever brought up exactly what that meant. 

When you pulled that stupid maneuver this afternoon and stopped responding to him over the comms at the same time your plane started dipping, his heart stopped. Every word he never said flashed in his mind in bright neon letters. 

He had thought you knew how he felt. But apparently, you hadn’t. 

That had to change. 

“You think there’s anyone else?” he asked. 

“What?”

He stepped closer, crowding you against the fridge. A paper he had stuck there with a magnet fluttered to the ground when your back hit against it. His arms caged you in. You tilted your head back when he got so close that it was the only way you’d be able to meet his eyes. 

“You think there’s anyone else I want to see at night, even after seeing them all day at work? Anyone else that I want to spend my weekends with, or who I can stay up talking to for hours without ever getting bored? Anyone else who makes me feel the way that you do, both in and out of my bed?” 

Your lips parted and you let out a small gasp. You brought your hands up to rest gently on his hips because he was standing so close to you that you wouldn’t be able to lay them on his chest without pushing him away. He leant down, placing a soft kiss that almost didn’t fit the moment on your cheek before he whispered in your ear. 

“You think there’s anyone else I want moaning my name while I touch them?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the motion brushing your chest against his. Bradley shuffled back half a step to allow just enough room for him to grab one of your hands, slowly bringing it down between your bodies and pressing it against where he’s hardening under the zipper of his jeans. 

“You think there’s anyone else that can do this to me, baby?” 

You let out a soft sound that had more blood rushing south and your eyes fluttered closed as you let your head fall forward and rest against his chest. You curl your fingers around him as much as you can through the thick denim, squeezing gently. He let out a grunt at the feeling, leaning further into you. 

“Do you?” 

“No,” you whispered into his black t-shirt. A thought hit him, then, that had his heart racing and his jaw clenching for an entirely different reason. You spent the majority of your free time together, but not every single moment. There was no one else for him - but that didn’t mean there was no one else for you. He gripped your jaw between his fingers and tilted your head back again so he could meet your eyes. They were dark and slightly glazed over in the same way they always got when you were turned on. 

“Is there anyone else for you?” he asked. Your eyebrows furrowed together like you couldn’t quite understand what he was asking. He pushed you harder into the fridge, slotting his thigh between your own. He knew if your flight suit wasn’t in the way, he’d find you wet. He wanted it to just be for him.

“Answer me,” he demanded. 

“No,” you finally whimpered, shaking your head as much as you could with his hold on your jaw. “There’s no one else.” 

You were both breathing heavily as you stared at one another, almost as if you were both weighing who would move first. Finally, when you flexed your fingers over where you were still cupping him, he growled and took a step back. He didn’t give you time to worry why he was pulling away.

“Take it off,” he commanded, nodding toward your flight suit. He yanked his shirt over his head and then worked at his belt as you fumbled with your uniform. You were still struggling with it when he kicked his pants and briefs off. He moved back to you to help, pulling the thick material down and off as you removed your shirt and sports bra. When you were completely naked in front of him, he couldn’t resist bringing his hand between your legs. You soaked his fingers as soon as he touched you. 

You choked out a moan as you grabbed onto his biceps. If he wasn’t so focused on completely possessing you, he would have smirked at the way your knees shook. 

“Who are you wet for right now, baby?” 

“You, Bradley. You.” 

He wrapped his free hand around the back of your neck, the other still sliding through your wetness, and pulled you into another rough kiss. You whimpered as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, dueling with his own. It was a messy exchange of spit and moans and he swore he could feel you getting even wetter. He flicked your clit with his finger before pulling his hand back, only to bring it forward with a quick, sharp smack to your pussy. 

This time, when your knees threatened to give out and your fingers pressed harder into his arms, he let himself smirk into your kiss. Your eyes were completely glazed over when he came up for air. He pulled you away from the fridge, twisting both of your bodies and walking you backwards a few steps to the other side of the small kitchen. He spun you around, pushing your front down with a hand on the center of your back. You hissed when your nipples brushed against the cool granite countertops beside the sink. 

“Here?” you asked, looking at him over your shoulder. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Right here.” 

He slid his cock along your pussy to slicken himself with your wetness before he lined himself up and pushed into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. Your loud, drawn out moan sounded like music to him. You were as tight and as warm as you always were and he never wanted to not feel this. The thought that he almost lost you today, that you were so careless with your own life, had that angry, possessive feeling taking over him again. He slid the hand that was holding your upper body down to thread itself into your hair, pulling at it until your back was flush against his chest.

“Tell me who’s making you feel this good,” he demanded, followed by another rough thrust of his hips. 

You moaned his name in response, the syllables coming out breathy and broken in the pleasure he was giving you. But it wasn’t enough. He pulled your hair back again, baring your throat. 

“Louder.” 

“You are!” you screamed, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you grasped at the counter top for purchase. “Oh god, Bradley. You are.” 

“That’s right, baby. I am. No one else.” 

He released your hair and grabbed onto your hips as he ground his against yours. He wanted to bury himself in you to the point where you’d never not feel him, if only that were possible. He wanted to leave as much of a mark on you as you have on him, and he knew at this point that you would let him. 

“You’re mine,” he rasped in your ear. Your pussy clenched tight around him at his words.

“Yours,” you gasped. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. 

You moaned, nodding frantically. You turned as much as you could to look at him and he met your lips in another sloppy kiss. He hissed when you nipped at his bottom lip.

Bradley could feel his orgasm building quickly, but he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. He pulled out of you with a grunt. Your body was pliant in his hands as he turned you to him. There was a dazed, fucked out look on your face. Glancing down, he could see your wetness glistening on your thighs. What a sight you made.

“Tell me what you want,” he said. 

“Wanna ride you,” you gasped out, reaching for him. “Please. Wanna see your face.”

With a muttered curse, he turned your bodies again, switching positions so that it was him against the counters. He slid to the floor without a word, tugging on your hips. You lowered yourself slowly, sinking back down on his cock with another drawn out moan, until you settled fully in his lap. He was even deeper from this angle. You wrapped yourself completely around him and he bent his knees slightly to keep you pressed to his body.

You brushed your nose against his, and your breath tickled his mustache. He helped raise you up and you moaned together when you dropped back down. 

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your lips. Your pussy spasmed around him and he could feel some of your wetness smearing against his lap. 

“You’re mine too,” you whimpered. He groaned at the words, thrusting up into you.

“Yes.”

You could do nothing but babble his name over and over again as you bounced on his cock, meeting each of his thrusts with a grind of your hips. You were one of the strongest women that he knew, better than everyone in a way few could be, so it made him dizzy, knowing that you got like this because of him. 

Bradley could feel you tightening around him, the lift of your hips growing shallower and less defined as you neared your peak. He kept a firm hold of your hips as his own thrusts up into you turned sloppy. He knew both of you were nearing that final edge and he was determined to get you there. 

“Come for me, baby,” he panted. You gasped when he touched that spot inside of you that always made you feel stars and he focused on hitting it with every movement.  “I want to feel you come for me, knowing that no man will ever make you feel like I can, and no woman can ever compare. Come for me.” 

He captured your lips with his at the same time you crashed over the edge. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice and it only took two more thrusts for him to follow right after you. 

Your body trembled with sensitivity and he could feel his cum pushing out of you, but he didn’t dare move from this spot on the floor. Your bodies were both damp with sweat but he couldn’t bring himself to care, wrapping his arms more securely around you. In the afterglow, you rested your forehead against his and scratched lightly at his skull with your short nails. You simply existed together for several long moments, but Bradley knew you wouldn’t stay quiet forever - it wasn’t in your nature. He couldn’t help the amused smile that pulled at his lips when you proved him right almost as soon as your breathing evened out. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” you asked quietly. 

He hummed softly in response, nudging your nose with his. “Do you want me to get you cleaned up first?” 

“Mmm, no,” you said, tightening your grip on him, too. His softened cock twitched inside of you. “Want to feel full for a little while more.” 

He let out a low groan. Minx. 

When he opened his eyes, you were smirking softly. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. He gave you a gentle kiss before letting out a deep sigh.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, Karma.” 

“I know,” you murmured, fingers still running through his hair. 

“I’ve learned how to deal with it but…you’re different. I can’t take it if it’s you. When you went into g-loc today…it felt like my world was ending.” 

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him. He could almost see the cogs turning in your head as you contemplated his words. 

“When did things change?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You suck in a small breath when he tells you the first time you were at Top Gun together. “That was years ago.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “You kind of snuck up on me, you know? And here I thought karma always hit you all at once.” 

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. His smile was touched with reverence as he drew shapes into your soft skin, waiting you out. 

“You’re my best friend, Bradley. You know that?” 

“I know,” he nodded. And he did know that. The friendship he had developed with you over the years, especially in the last few, meant more to him than any other he’s had. It was the foundation of these deep feelings he had for you. He valued you more than anyone. If relationships and feelings were hard for him, though, they were nearly impossible for you. He knew what it meant that you trusted him like you did and held him in such high regard. It wasn’t inconsequential by any means. 

“Hey,” he murmured, noticing how your eyes had strayed away from his. He wanted you to be looking at him when he said what was on the tip of his tongue, so he waited until you looked back up. That carefully blank look was on your face again, but your index finger tapped gently against his skull; you were nervous again, and he wasn’t surprised that you knew him well enough to perhaps guess what was coming. “I love you. You know that?” 

You breathed in deeply and he did his best not to hold his. Slowly, the mask you had on your face slipped. You leaned forward, breathing him in, before placing your lips on his. It was the first kiss you had initiated the whole night and he returned it eagerly. When you pulled away, you let a smile climb on your lips and your eyes twinkled. His rapidly pounding heart slowed just the smallest amount. 

“I know,” you said. 

He supposed that, for now, that would be enough. 

--------

Masterlist

Notes: This one was fun! Big thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for their help, as per usual.

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[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟖.𝟓𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“Whose is it, birdie?” Bradley asks, eyes wide. "It's all over--whose blood is that?"

He hasn’t moved his hands from your warm and sticky face--he’s still cupping your cheeks, face contorted in anguish as his eyes pour into yours. 

You drop the ax and the shotgun on the ground--they make a dull thump, one you can feel in the soles of your feet and in your pulsing head. There’s a lump in your throat so obstructive, so thick and overwhelming, that you can’t speak. 

All you can do, as Rooster looks down at you while the swallows begin to swoop from roof to roof and the irises emit their sweet scent, is cry.

How can you explain to Rooster, who’s held it together this entire time, that you can’t hold it together right now because of what you just witnessed? How are you going to explain to him that you had the person cornered--that you could’ve shot him--and you didn’t because Paul needed help? And even then, even when you abandoned your firing position to help Paul, it was all fruitless because Paul is dead and his body is in the woods all on its lonesome. 

“Birdie,” Rooster mutters. He smooths a hand through your hair, dirty with lake water and leaves and blood, and shakes his head softly. “Who’s bleeding?” 

“Paul,” you finally choke, shaking your head. He thumbs your tears, but it’s for naught. “It--it was Paul’s.” 

It was Paul’s. 

Rooster looks you up and down--the blood is all over you. Up to your ankles and covering your shoes, all over your shins, dried up your legs, staining your poor dungarees again. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispers to you. His bottom lip trembles. “Is he…?” 

You nod--just barely. 

Rooster doesn’t ask any more questions. 

You think, suddenly and very clearly, that you’re not sure how much fight you have left in you. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this. 

Mable was right. There is no way out. You will bathe in your own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for you. There is no way out. 

If you let go, if you give in, if you wait to die--then what will happen? Everyone else will die. No one else is as good a shot as you. No one else is willing to trek through the woods. No one else can suture a gash or staunch a wound or cauterize a limb.

So, you have to push forward. It’s a decision that is made with haste.Very swiftly, you realize you’re not going to lose your head now. You’re not going to break down again. You’re gonna keep going--you have to keep going. 

“He…he said he’s back,” you whisper to Rooster, wiping your own cheeks now. “He said…he told me to--to run away. I didn’t think he was--I didn’t listen to him. He said that he’s back--he’s back, he’s back. I don’t know what he…”

You don’t rest your head on Rooster’s chest and you don’t lessen the burden of that lump in your throat. You’re in shock, you know--which is why the tears running down your face are involuntary.

“Who?” Rooster presses, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Your head is spinning. “I don’t know.” 

Only a moment before Rooster is going to pull you to him, only a moment before you’re going to ask him if he found anything in the woods, the walkie deep in your pocket comes to life. 

“Gale!” Phoenix sobs through it. “Gale! Are you there? Oh, God--Gale, please!” 

Scrambling to grab the walkie, Rooster leans down and takes the ax in his hands. It’s with his heart in a cold, cold puddle that he sees that it’s the ax from the mess hall. D.G. He says nothing to you, just holds onto the handle tight. 

“I’m--I’m here,” you answer Phoenix, shuffling to grab the shotgun. You start for the bus barn, wiping your face clean of tears. 

“It--it’s Bob,” Phoenix sobs. “I think he’s--I think he’s--!” 

“I’m coming,” you tell her. “I’m coming.” 

Phoenix, who’s trying desperately to blot the cold sweat from Bob’s face as Coyote sends all the children to the back of the bus, doesn’t feel relieved by your answer. She thought she would--if not to just know that you’re alive then simply because she won’t have to be alone with Bob anymore. Help will be on the way. Bob will be okay. 

“I’m so--fuck, I’m so cold,” Bob whispers to her, lips quivering. “Can you start the fire?”

Phoenix’s tongue is dry. 

“Bob, we’re on the bus,” she says, voice thin and flat. “There’s no fireplace.”

He’s confused. He’s been confused for a few hours now. Phoenix knows this is the infection--that it must be spreading. But still, she desperately runs her palms up and down his arms to try and get some friction. This cold that Bob feels, though--it’s not one she can fix. It’s not even one a fire could fix. 

She pulls the walkie to her mouth again, breathing heavily. 

“Gale, quick! Please!” 

“I’m on my way,” you say back. 

You don’t say I’m going as fast as I can, but I’m so tired. I’m so scared. I want to give up. I’m only coming because it’s you and it’s Bob and it’s Coyote and the campers. But that’s it, that’s all. I want to lie down. But it’s what you’re thinking. 

And you’re by yourself suddenly as Rooster falls behind you, taking a glance at the perimeter of camp just in case Jake shows his face. He doesn’t fall in step with you again--he’s going to stay out here and guard. You think maybe it’s because Bradley isn’t brave enough to see it up close--Bob hurt, infected, writhing. 

And, really, you don’t blame him. 

You’d rather be anywhere else. 

The sun is warm on your back. The blood is itchy on your skin. You’re running as fast you can, limping with tired, your temples throbbing. Your heart thumps in your ears.

At any moment, an ax could come whizzing out from the woods. There could be a hiding place just yonder, far enough away that you never see it coming. You could hear its noise, fast and sharp like a whip, and then that could be the end. An ax to the head, to the back, to the legs, and you’re down. A peculiar sensation prickles your spine, torments the swollen muscles in your legs and arms: you could die at any moment. Right here, at Camp Arcadia, on the gravel just outside the bus barn. No one could do a thing about it either. 

Oh, God, you think. Where are you?

When you step onto the bus, you know. 

It is quiet--so very quiet. No one knows what to say to a dying man and that is what Bob is. None of the campers are whispering and none of the counselors are rustling. Phoenix is sitting in the front seat with Bob over her lap, sobbing as Bob blinks up at her, only barely conscious. Coyote is kneeled beside them, his lip being sawed in half by his own teeth as he tries to keep from crying. 

The smell comes first--that distinct perfume, so familiar and pungent with musk. It’s the rot, you know. It’s the body shutting down, the organs giving in, the skin infected. But to you, it just smells like death. The two of you are thick as thieves. 

And then, when you look at Bob and everyone else looks at you to save the day, saliva gathers underneath your tongue and your lashes begin to quiver. Pennies settle beneath your tongue. 

“I’m here,” you whisper, your throat burning. “I’m here now.” 

Phoenix doesn’t understand why you’re not rushing to Bob’s aid. She doesn’t understand why you’re not suturing or cleaning or wrapping or whatever else the fuck you’re suppoosed to do to save him. You should be ordering everyone around, saving Bob. You should be stony right now--but your face is soft and wet.

“Help him,” she cries. “Get over here--help him! Help him, he’s dying!”

Coyote knows when he looks at you. The sun is just barely puncturing the bus barn, just barely lighting the side of your face. You’re covered in blood, limply holding the shotgun, looking down at Bob with an agonized sense of forbearance. You cannot save him. Nobody can--he is too far gone. Coyote bows his head and that is when the tears come.

“Phe,” Coyote whispers. He sets a hand on her elbow. She jerks away from him, looking at him as if he’s just burned her. Her eyes are wild with grief. “Phe, there’s nothing--!” 

“--Fuck you,” Phoenix spits at Coyote, her face split in half by anguish. She’s never felt this way before--she’s never felt this mind-splitting, chest-numbing pain. But it’s suddenly drowning her and she feels that no one is throwing her a life preserver. You’re all watching her flounder. “Please…please…” 

Slowly, you kneel beside Coyote. Everything smells like sweat and dust, but this close to Bob, you are practically rubbing noses with death. You can see the freckles on its cheeks. 

You carefully place your hand on Bob’s leg. He looks down at you, pale as white-sand and shaking. Cold sweat covers his face, stains his shirt. His eyes are focused, but untrained. 

“Bob,” you whisper. “We’re here.”

That’s about all you can say to him. Not just hold on, we’ll fix you up. Not only another minute, it’s okay, it’s alright. Not help is on the way. You’re going to make it.

He’s so cold--so, so cold. And he’s been cold since he went out into the night, since he was struck. He’s known, from the very beginning, that he’s dying. He just didn’t know how to tell anyone else. And he knew everyone else was too afraid to tell him. 

 But when you say that--we’re here--something grows warm in Bob. He’s been in and out of fitful dreams, sometimes dreaming about his father’s fingers on the strings of a guitar and sometimes dreaming about his less than stellar date with Michelle Johnson. It’s peculiar--he never thought dying would be so slow, so tedious. 

“Payback and Fanboy haven’t walkied,” Coyote whispers to you. The only recognition you show is a slow blink. “Maybe they’re close.” 

“Maybe,” you whisper back.

The both of you know that it wouldn’t matter, anyhow. By the time the tree is moved, by the time the brigade is here if they’re coming, Bob will be gone.  

Reaching up, you take Phoenix’s hand. She looks at you, brown eyes wide with horror, and almost pulls away. But then Bob, with the last bit of his strength, puts his hand over hers, too. 

“Thank you,” he tells Phoenix. She looks down at him, shaking her head with her eyes wide. He doesn’t break their gaze, lips trembling. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Stop that,” Phoenix demands softly. “Cut it out, Bob! You’re fine!” 

“I’m dying,” he whispers. He swallows hard. His throat is so very dry. “I didn’t know how to…how to tell you.” 

Phoenix sobs. 

“No,” she whispers. She blinks hard, shaking her head. “Bob, I can’t--please, please, please…” 

Leaning down, she holds Bob’s body against hers. He blinks a few times, the sunlight coming over his face just barely. It’s good to feel warm, he thinks. 

“I know…I know you hate Cutting Crew,” Bob starts. With the last bit of his strength, he smiles. It’s a barely-there, strained thing. But it’s there. “But they wrote our song, huh?” 

It takes a moment for everyone to register what Bob’s saying. For a second, you think he’s delirious. But then Coyote chokes out a loud laugh, a few stray tears running down his face. 

Phoenix looks up, puzzled, and then it dawns on her. 

(I Just) Died In Your Arms. Cutting Crew. She groans every time it comes on the radio just before tuning to another station. She’s literally left coffee shops over the song. Bob knows this. But now it’s the song that will make her think of Bob because he’s willed it so. It’s the song that will remind her of this exact instance--sitting on the bus, terrified, dirty, holding her best friend as he dies. 

“Bob,” Coyote laughs. He’s about to say that he’s a sly, sly dog. That he’s got the jokes. But just the sound of his name falling off his lips is enough to halt Coyote. That is the last time he will ever call Bob’s name and have Bob answer to it. “I…I love you, man.” 

Bob smiles. 

“I love you, too, man,” Bob whispers. “Don’t tell Phoenix.” 

And then Bob is looking at you. You with your eyes heavy with tears and your face a calm and placid sea. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it--he doesn’t know how you haven’t given up yet. But he knows that he loves you for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to Bob, tears pouring down your face. You sniffle and sigh. “I’m really, really sorry Bob. More sorry than I’ve ever been.”

He knows what you’re apologizing for: not saving him. 

“No hard feelings,” he whispers to you. Another meek smile tugs on his lips. “You did good.”

You did good. 

Choking on your grief, you can hardly stand to look at him anymore. You can hardly stand kneeling here, breathing in all this death. But you know this is where you’re supposed to be. 

Just as Phoenix is about to sob again, a meager voice finds place in the stale air around everyone. 

“Can I pray for you, Mister Bob?” Mable asks softly. There are tears in her eyes as she blinks at everyone. “If that’s okay…”

You glance at Phoenix, who looks like she never wants to see Mable Brandt’s face ever again in her long, long life without Bob. Bob was born Godless and will die Godless. But then Bob is nodding. 

“That’d be swell, kid,” he whispers. A shuddering breath falls from his lips. “Make it out to Bob Dylan, would ya?” 

Mable sniffles. She rests her hands on your shoulders because you, out of everyone here, are the only one that can hold her up. And you let her hold you--even close your eyes and feel the heat of her body against you and fall into a dreamless, sleepless state. 

“Dear Heavenly Dylan,” Mable starts. Bob lets out a quiet laugh--a weezy, tired thing. It is the last time he will ever laugh. “Please take Mister Bob’s pain away--he’s been in an awful lot of it since the attack and I think he’s tired now. He’s a real nice guy--he never yelled at me or anyone else. I don’t think it’s very fair that he’s got so many boo-boo’s.”

No one speaks as Mable continues praying, everyone’s head slightly bowed and eyes drifted shut. Everyone’s face is wet with tears that are shining in the yellow light. 

“And we know that you’ll have a place for him when he gets to where he’s going, alright? So, make sure it’s nice and clean. And make sure there’s aspirin there because Mister Bob doesn’t feel so hot right now. But most of all--keep him safe on his way. Miss Nightingale and Miss Phoenix did the best they could. It’s your turn now.” 

An overwhelming sense of peace finds Bob. His fingers are numb--he wonders, strangely, if they’re already dead. Maybe when you die, it’s piece by piece, a little at a time. And maybe his fingers went first.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix whispers to Bob, looking down at his pale cheeks. “I can’t…I can’t never see you again.”  

He takes a deep breath. His lungs are warm, very warm. 

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he whispers to her. “You’ll manage.”

He’s accepted this. This is okay. He is looking up at his best friend in the world and it is the last thing his eyes will ever see. And he thinks, with a sudden swell of pride, that he did good. She’s really the cream of the crop--the best friend he could have asked for.

Something flickers behind his eyes, bright yellow and aquamarine and jet black--memories. They flutter past his vision, clear and crisp, like he’s pulling the little plastic lever on a viewfinder of his own life. 

The smell of his mama’s hotcakes on late Sunday mornings, Bob sleepy and syrupy and reaching for more butter despite his mother’s tutting. Lazing around the pool with his kid brother, Neil Young humming on the radio as his daddy grills. Sitting in the movie theater during Star Wars, too engrossed in the movie to realize that Lisa Patterson is making googly eyes at him. Finally kissing Michelle Johnson at the roller rink, her tight curls gleaming beneath the disco ball, her skin shining blue and pink. Reading Kurt Vonnegut in his car before class, holding in tears when the profoundness struck him over the head like a brick. Holding hands with Phoenix during games of Red Rover, their mouths wide open, their hairlines dotted with sweat. Swimming in the lake after tipsy bonfires, bobbing his head beneath the water, listening to the muted sound of you squealing when Jake pulls you up on his shoulders. His toes in cold, cold mud. His face against the warm, warm sun. The first snow of the year blanketing the front lawn. His dorm room, which always smells like crayons for some reason. His best friends pedaling down the street, swerving at cars and whooping and hollering, switching gears up the big hill on Freemont. His daddy taking his mama’s hands and dancing her around the wrapping-paper covered living room, her new necklace gleaming on her throat like a personal star on a silver chain. Holding his baby cousin for the first time, breath caught in his throat and arms stiff because he’s never held anything so tiny. Cutting his knees on concrete. Hitting his head on that shelf in the living room. Learning how to change a tire. Driving down his street for the first time. Playing his guitar in his room, shutting his eyes, and quietly whispering Bob Dylan songs.

He can hear it now--Bob Dylan is playing. And it isn’t him singing and it isn’t him playing the guitar. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from or why it’s so loud, so clear, so sudden. But there it is--clear as the day is blue. It’s like there’s a private concert just for Bob and he’s in the front row, the sun warm on his face and shoulders, his arms raised in ecstasy. 

That long black cloud is comin' down

I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

He always wanted to be front row at a Bob Dylan concert. He was saving up to take him and Phoenix. 

Funny how life works that way, he thinks. 

Oh, well. So it goes.

“Please, if you could make it easy, we would all really appreciate it. And in Bob Dylan’s name we pray…amen.”  

And then, with a final shuddering breath, Bob Floyd dies in his best friend’s arms on a disjunct bus on the worst Thursday of anyone’s life. He was the newest counselor at Camp Arcadia. This was only his second summer. 

“Bob?” Phoenix asks. Panic shoots up and grabs onto her ears, tugging hard. His lips are parted, his eyes are open. He is not moving. “Bob! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” 

Mable leans down to your ear. You’re so thoroughly covered in blood that you look like something that crawled out of a horror film--she can make out the tracks of your tears as the salt cuts through the gore on your cheeks. It’s an image that will stay with her for the rest of her life, one she’ll doodle inside book covers and on the backs of restaurant napkins. She’s so young now that when she’s older, she’ll wonder if her juvenile mind was exaggerating just how gory you look. But it is not an exaggeration at all. 

“You have to fight it,” she whispers in your ear. Her cut begins to bleed. “It’s here.”

When you look up, your eyes fluttering open again after seemingly being pasted shut, you see another dead body. Your second this morning. There is less blood and more sunlight, but it is still there right before you. 

As if a mortar has suddenly gone off beside your cheek, your ears are hollowed out and ringing. You can see Phoenix screaming, can see her patting Bob’s cheeks, but you can’t hear her shrill tone or the lifeless thumps on his skin. Coyote touches your shoulder and you think maybe he’s saying something to you, but you don’t look at him. 

Vision beginning to vignette, you stand slowly. And then you turn and walk all the way off the bus, the blood on your shoes matted with dirt and grime. You take a few stumbling steps, the gun clenched tightly in your hands. Then you open the doors, let the sunlight in. If someone was running full-speed at you, intent on cutting you down, you wouldn’t hear it. And you think you wouldn’t fight it either. 

The only way you know you’re on the ground is when the gravel slices your knees open. It is not from brute strength that you have fallen--no one has hit you. It is because you are drained. Entirely, completely, wholly drained. 

Bradley finds you only a few moments later. 

You’re on your hands and knees just outside the bus barn, clutching the gravel with the gun laid out just beside you. Your back bows, curved like the neck of a preening swan, and you suddenly heave. Vomit spews across the rocks--all stomach acid. 

Oh, he realizes. Bob’s dead. 

He stops where he is, only a few paces from you, and watches all of your humanness from afar. Surely you’ve seen dead bodies before in your line of work--in fact, he knows you have--but maybe you’ve never seen it this close. And it has never, ever been a friend. That must be what’s different about this one, he thinks. That’s it. That must be it. 

And then he watches you stop. You suddenly swallow hard and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, eyebrows furrowed and lips trembling. Then you fight to your feet, wobbling and quivering, leaning over once more to grab the gun and hold it to your body. 

As if you knew he was there the entire time, you look at Bradley. He can see it from where he is, dazed and heartbroken and lovesick: there is fight in your eyes. It is dim, it is full, it is small, it is hazy--but it’s there, gleaming in the early morning light.

You have to fight it. It’s here. 

“We have to find him,” you tell Bradley. Your voice is ragged and thin. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No one else is dying today, alright?” 

Bradley nods at you, dumbfounded and grief-stricken. His throat is tight. 

“Alright,” he answers. He takes a deep breath, fills his lungs.“Birdie, I…I think I might have an idea.” 

♀

“What do you mean?” Coyote asks. “You two are gonna just…play music? And get him to come? Like…a dog or something?” 

“So he knows where we are,” Bradley defends, his voice hard and serious. “We’re not, like, whistling for him.” 

“And you think that’ll make him come?” Coyote asks, brow perched. 

He glances at you. You’re not looking at him. 

“He’ll come. He’ll come if he knows Gale’s there.” 

Coyote opens his mouth to argue, but then you quietly add, “What other option do we have? I can’t…I’m not strong enough to go back out in the woods.”

“I could go,” Coyote offers. 

You shake your head.

“I’m the good shot,” you whisper. And all that responsibility weighs down on you again. “It would have to be me. And you’re hurt.”

Coyote knows you’re right. He carefully touches the back of his head, wincing when the gash stings beneath his fingers.

Phoenix’s eyes are on the floor. Her throat hurts too bad to say anything. She won’t look up at you and Bradley as you stand outside the bus with Coyote, relaying the plan. 

“And when he--if he comes, then what?” Coyote asks. He swallows hard, his head pulsing. “You’re gonna…?” 

“Wait. For help,” you whisper. 

Coyote looks at your face--still covered in blood, but stained with a detached sort of anger. You’re resolute and morose all wrapped up in bloody dungarees. 

“Back to square one, then, huh?” He asks softly. 

“What’s the alternative?” Bradley counters. “Killing him?” 

“No one else is dying today,” you say matter-of-factly. You look at the two men, who are looking at you already with their mouths flat and their chests heaving. “I mean it, alright? No one else.” 

“Alright,” Coyote answers. “So, Phoenix and I should just hang around? Wait?” 

You nod. Coyote shudders at the thought of just waiting. 

“We’ll come get you when it’s…” you start, trailing off with your brows furrowed. 

“Over. We’ll come get you when it’s over,” Bradley answers. “Don’t open the doors for anyone but us, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Coyote answers. He takes a long, deep breath. His head hurts. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to help? Strength in numbers, right?” 

You glance at Phoenix. She’s still holding Bob. Though now that the tears have stopped, she’s completely quiet. You fear, suddenly and completely, that she’ll never speak again. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Stay here with her.” 

Glancing up at the bus, you see all the campers already looking at you. Knives in their little hands, fear in their little teary eyes. Their faces are almost begging, you think. 

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. 

Toes numb with panic, you look back at Coyote. He’s already looking at you. 

“Don’t let anyone in,” you say again. You think of last night when something tried to get into the mess hall--just how close they came. “And if they do get in…corner them. Get them.”

Coyote nods firmly. You can count on him. He can count on you. The two of you have never bullshitted each other before. 

“I will,” he says. “I’ll die fighting if I have to. No one’s touching those kids.” 

Die fighting. How silly that phrase seemed before, when you’d throw it around at random. And now there’s two dead bodies and three missing counselors at Camp Arcadia. You hope you don’t die fighting like Paul, like Bob. But it would be a valiant way to go. 

“Let’s go,” Bradley says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You’re rigid underneath his hands--it stains him, wounds him. But he doesn’t punish you for it. How could he? “We’ll be right back.” 

Coyote swallows hard. His heart is pounding. 

“Don’t say that,” Coyote pleads. “Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? Ever?” 

“This is real life,” Bradley argues. “Not some story.” 

But it was a story--before, at the bonfire. 

Damien and the Devil. Six counselors, one nurse. Slashed. Dead, gone, buried, away. 

Saying nothing more, you turn on your heel. 

It’s time to end this.

The walk back to the mess hall is very quiet. Underneath the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky, you and Bradley say almost nothing to each other. You’re holding the gun, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. He’s holding the ax, the one that killed Paul, and the other one he took into the woods with him. He’s glancing around the perimeter to make sure nothing’s sneaking up on the two of you. 

You’re stumbling slightly when you step--Bradley isn’t sure if it’s because you’re tired or if it’s because of the gashes on your knees or if it’s because of your shock. He does know you’re in shock--that you’ve been in shock since you tumbled out of the woods covered in Paul’s blood. You look shell-shocked, but brave. Like you know the bomb is about to drop, but you’re ready to arm yourself against whatever’s coming even if it’s for naught. Do svidaniya.

Ears still ringing, stomach still churning, you feel like the walk is too quick. Suddenly you aren't outside anymore--you’re in the mess hall in all its disarray, walking towards the kitchen with the intent of grabbing more ammunition. 

Bradley’s closing the buckshot-broken doors, brows furrowed as he examines the shots. Shit. You really did it. Something in his belly feels better knowing that you’ll shoot. You’ll pull the trigger. 

As soon as you’re through the kitchen doors, your heart stops. There on the dingy tiles is what remains of Bob’s blood--it’s smeared, dried, browned. But you can still see where he laid. And just beside the bucket, which is still full of bloody water, are Bob’s broken glasses. 

Leaning down, legs shaking, you pick the glasses up and hold them up to your face. They’re broken--the glass is cracked and the frames are bent. 

But it’s okay. He doesn’t need them anymore. 

“Oh, Bob,” you whisper. You grip the glasses hard. Tipping your head forward, you let the metal fall against your closed mouth. A sob ripples through you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gale?” Rooster calls. He turns--sees your form frozen in the doorway, kneeling with your head bent. Starting for you, he swallows hard. “Birdie?” 

His presence behind you is warm and solid, like standing against a water heater. His chest just barely grazes your back. It brings you back a little bit--his steady and even breaths. You can count them--you can count on them. They’re there, steady, as you look down at Bob’s glasses. 

Rooster, his jaw squared, sighs gently. 

He tugs under your armpits until you’re standing on your feet again.

“Are you…are you, like, alright?” 

Dumb question, he thinks. Jesus. Dumb, dumb question.

Shaking your head, you let your eyes fall shut. 

“I’m numb,” you whisper. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…I can’t feel anything at all.”

A pang of pain radiates in Rooster’s chest. You’re so quiet, so drawn into yourself. Maybe this is your surrender. Maybe this is when you give up. Maybe this is when you call it a day and lay down and just wait for the end to come. Rooster can’t have that.

“Can you feel this?” Rooster asks. 

And you’re about to crane your neck to look at him, about to ask him what he’s doing, when the very softest of kisses lands just below your left ear. 

Oh. You can feel that. His warm lips, full of blood and live cells and made up of skin, send a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes,” you mutter. “I can.” 

Another kiss--this time in the middle of your neck. Rooster can still faintly smell jasmine on your skin. It makes him ache all over. 

“That?” He whispers. 

You nod, choked up. 

And then he’s very carefully brushing your hair off your shoulders, pushing it aside so he can see your throat and the curve of your jaw. It’s covered in blood, flaking off whenever it’s disturbed. He doesn’t care.

He kisses a trail down the back of your neck, his own eyes fluttered shut in just a moment of peace. And your body is growing softer beneath him--so soft that when he reaches around and pulls the gun from your hands, you don’t fight it. You just let your head fall to the side, eyes flickering shut. 

His palms splay on your hips. He holds you tight, pulls you until your back is flush against his chest. And your mind is buzzing and your body is growing warmer and warmer, but you cannot deny the pleasure of this encounter. This is the most human you’ve felt since all of this began, since you jumped out of bed naked when Phoenix came into your cabin. 

And even though you’re suddenly crying, even though you’re gripping his hands, you know that you need this to keep moving forward. You cannot fight if you feel like there’s nothing left to fight for--maybe the faces of the campers, stained with fear, aren’t enough for you. Maybe seeing Phoenix holding Bob still isn’t enough for you. Maybe you need this--to be touched and held. To be reminded that you can feel still. To be reminded that when this is over, there will be life to live and sex to have and jobs to hate and cars to drive and stars to gaze upon. 

This, right here, is proof of that. 

“Hold me,” you whisper, suddenly desperate. “Hold me, please.” 

You cannot remember the last time you asked someone to hold you. Rigidity sometimes feels like your natural state. Steeling yourself against death, against blood and hurt and pain. And now you’re so soft as Rooster wraps his arms around you. 

He holds you so tight that all the air leaves your lungs. 

You’re stuck still, breath stilted, lungs empty. 

Yes, you think. This is how tightly I need to be held. 

Rooster buries his nose in your neck. He can feel the tears dripping down your cheeks as they land in his hair and he only holds you tighter. He can feel that he’s squeezing the life out of you, but for some reason, he knows you want it like that. 

“I’ve got you,” he mutters to you. “I won’t let you go.”

But just as quickly as you found comfort in his arms, in his heat, against his pumping heart and hot skin, you become uneasy. It’s the thought of seeing his dead body, it’s him calling you hysterical, it’s the spit flinging out of his mouth as he called Jake the killer, it’s his naked body you left behind to find Bob. 

All of it comes at once, slaps your face until your cheeks are raw.

Wriggling your way out of his grip, you take a half-step away from him and grab the shotgun again. Rooster, slightly stunned, watches you with his mouth ajar. 

“Set the music up,” you whisper. You sniffle. “I’m gonna reload and…and get in position.” 

Jake’s trudging back towards camp, openly weeping. He hasn’t openly wept since his toddlerhood, he thinks. But he is right now: shoulders shaking, spine curving, snot dripping, tears pouring open-mouthed weeping. There’s bile covering the front of his shirt and blood on his hands, which is why he won’t look down, which is why he’s stumbling.

He’s been walking all night long--ducking behind trees, stumbling over jagged roots. He’s so tired that his bones feel brittle. He’s so thoroughly exhausted that he’s stumbling towards the mess hall now, even though he knows it’s a trap, even though he knows this might be his final location. 

Kate Bush is playing over the loudspeaker--it was loud enough for him to hear where he was just before in a puddle of blood, vomiting and swatting away swarming flies. Through his heaving, through his tears, he knew immediately that he had to go to where you were calling him from.  

Do you wanna feel how it feels? 

You must be there. You must be the one calling out to him. He wonders if maybe it’s a call for help. But no--it must be a trap. Maybe Bradley swayed you. Maybe everyone swayed you. Maybe you want him dead. Maybe, as soon as his feet cross the threshold, you’re going to shoot him in the chest. He wouldn’t be angry with you. But, boy--would he miss you if he died. 

But all he wants, as his stuttering footsteps grow nearer and nearer to the mess hall, is to keep you safe. And if you’re with him--if you’re even near him--you aren’t safe. 

Limping, he approaches the doors to the mess hall. They’re closed, but damaged. You already shot through them, Jake sees. And there’s blood dotting the doors--so much of it that he knows you must’ve really got ‘em. 

Atta girl, he thinks. 

“Jake?” Your voice comes from inside, echoing in the empty mess hall. “Is that…is that you?” 

Instead of answering, he opens the door. 

You

It's you and me

And there you are. Standing a few paces ahead of him, holding the shotgun like you’ve held it a million times before, eyes narrowed and focused on him. You’re covered in blood, even your heavy eyelids, and sniffling as you cry quietly. But even through your tears, you’re strong. He can see the fight still tugging on the ends of your hair and straining in your wobbling thighs. 

Bradley is just behind you, armed with an ax, sneering at Jake. 

“Don’t you come any closer,” Bradley demands. He rears back so the ax is in position to swing down at any given moment. “I mean it, you fuck!” 

Jake stumbles slightly as he steps into the mess hall. 

“Jake,” you whisper, shaking your head. Your throat aches with grief. “Where have you been?” 

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

It all comes rushing back to him, a wave of grief and exhaustion and derangement. Taking a shuddering breath, he tries to communicate with you, his words coming out like a fluttering and distant bird that flies right over your head.

“Get away from him,” he whispers. 

You furrow your brows, straining to hear him over Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God).

“He’s got a weapon,” Bradley whispers to you. His heart is pounding. “Gale, he’s got an ax.” 

Fingers numb with panic, with pain, you shake your head at Jake.

You don't wanna hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo)

“Where did you get that?” You demand quietly, nodding to the ax in Jake’s hand. 

Jake glances down at the ax. He got this just a few miles outside of camp. He pried it out of Fanboy’s hands--his cold, dead hands. And then he promptly spewed vomit onto the rocks just beside his body and Payback’s. He found them, their bodies hacked, lying together. They never left each other’s sides. Not for one moment. 

“I…” Jake whispers. He swallows, head pounding. “Get away from Bradley. Please, baby, please get away from him.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle your skin as they raise. 

“Can it,” Bradley spits. You don’t have to see him to know how angry Bradley is right now, sneering and snarling at Jake. “You--you fucking son of a bitch! Bob is dead! You fucking killed Bob!” 

“Stop,” you beg softly, the gun shaking in your unsteady grasp. “Jake, just…just put the ax down, alright? And then we can talk.” 

“Talk? Fuck that,” Bradley yells. “He killed Bob!” 

“You did,” Jake utters. “You killed him, Rooster.” 

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

You hear him loud and clear as if he’s just whispered in your ear. Heart pounding, you shake your head. Fuck. Fuck.  

“He’s lying,” Bradley laughs bitterly. “You fuck--you stupid fuck! You really think she’s gonna fall for that? You think she’s gonna believe you? You destroyed the fucking cabin and went AWOL and then people started dying!” 

But Jake isn’t responding to Bradley. He’s just staring at you, cowering where he stands, defeated and terrified. His shirt is ripped and his hair is messy and there’s blood underneath his fingernails. 

“Just drop the ax,” you tell him. “I don’t want to--I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re not going to hurt each other, right? Just drop it.” 

It's you and me

Jake drops it--it clatters onto the floor unceremoniously. Your lungs deflate. 

“Nightingale,” Jake whispers. His eyes are pouring into yours, red-rimmed and wide. “You have to get away from him, baby. He’s gonna hurt you.” 

Panic is pulsing in your chest now. You’re desperately clinging to reality right now--even though you’re not sure what that is. 

“He’s trying to confuse you,” Bradley whispers. “Don’t let him.”

“Gale,” Jake begs, sobbing. He steps closer to you. You reposition your fingers so they’re not sitting on the trigger anymore. “Please…please…just get away from him! Please!” 

Eyes wide, you watch as he stumbles closer. Bradley is grunting behind you, rearing the ax up further and further. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Bradley sneers. “I mean it, man! Stay the fuck away!” 

“Jake,” you whisper. “Please. Please just stay where you are.” 

“Where’d you even get the ax?” Bradley asks. His voice echoes. 

Jake is still looking into your eyes, openly weeping. Bile dribbles down his chin. 

“They’re dead,” he whispers. “I--oh, God, they’re dead. I found ‘em. I found them together.” 

Be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

You immediately know that he means Fanboy and Payback. They’re dead. They’re gone. They haven’t been answering the walkie calls. They’re not close to town at all--they’re just dead. 

A sharp and punctuated sob ripples through your entire body. Goddammit.

“Who?” Bradley demands. “Who the fuck are you--?” 

“--You know what you did,” Jake whispers to Bradley. Suddenly, Jake isn’t deflated. He’s almost close enough to reach out and touch you. Your finger isn’t on the trigger. His chest puffs up and his shoulders roll back. He can protect you. He can do that. “Don’t you fucking touch her, man. Don’t you fucking ax her like you axed them! You--you fucking got ‘em when they were sleeping, didn’t you? You’re a fucking coward.” 

Eyes wide, you begin to beg Jake to move back. 

“It’s you,” Bradley spits. “You’re the fucking killer! 

Oh, come on, baby (yeah)

Oh, come on, darlin' (yo)

“Enough,” you try desperately. “We’re gonna sit here and-and wait for Mav and Penny to come get us, alright? All of us!” But they’re not listening to you. Jake is staring at Bradley and Bradley is staring at Jake. “No one else is dying, okay?” 

“Who else is dead?” Jake asks. “Who else did he kill?” 

Your mind is racing. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know who’s telling the truth. All you know right now is that Jake seems earnest and Bradley seems angry and the truth is lying somewhere between them in no-man’s-land. 

“You know damn well Paul is dead,” Bradley sneers. You see it--Jake’s shock. Thoroughly, in your bones, you can tell that no, Jake did not know that. Your spine tingles. “You fucking killed him! And you cut Mable, didn’t you? Snuck out while Gale was sleeping, right? You coward.” 

Swallowing hard, Jake looks at you. His face is very serious, very anguished. 

Oh, come on, angel

Come on, come on, darlin'

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Jake begs. He’s desperate, shaking his head at you. “I’m still me. I’d never--you know that I’d never--!” 

“--You’re sick,” Bradley screams. His voice booms, drowns out the music. “You’re worshiping the same twisted demon Gwyar did, aren’t you? Or is it that--that you’re worshiping Gwyar? Him and his fucking ax and his sick fucking game! Feeding on everyone’s fear, scaring the tar out of everyone! Or is it that you’re cutting down anyone that gets too close to Gale? Huh? Is that it? You sick fuck!” 

Furrowing his brows, Jake looks at you. And you know that he doesn’t know what Bradley is talking about at all. 

You’re getting lightheaded. 

“Gale,” Jake whispers. It’s a desperate, desperate plea. “Get away from him, baby. Please, please, please. I won’t even--I won’t even touch you. Just get away from him. Point the gun at him.”

And here it is: you’re getting ripped apart. You didn’t even make it to the end of summer. 

But then Jake is falling to his knees, sobs tearing him to bits, looking up at you like a depraved and despaired. It’s horrific--having Jake there before you.  

“If you’ve ever done anything in your life, listen to me right now,” Jake sobs. “Please, Gale--get the fuck away from him. I’m not the killer, baby--Bradley is. You’re not safe!”

Your fingers are shaking. 

And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

“Enough,” you try. “Please, Jake--Bradley! Just stop!” 

Head swarmed, you look at Jake with wide eyes. 

“Maybe you’re possessed,” Bradley says, laughing humorlessly. “Maybe you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to it…you found the ax ‘cause it called for you, didn’t it?” 

Bradley’s chest is hot with rage. He wants to get Jake away from you--now.

And then Jake isn’t just on his knees before you, he’s throwing himself forward and against your legs. But your feet are planted so firmly that you don’t shake, you don’t fall. He isn’t trying to knock you over--he’s just hugging himself against your thighs, burying his face in the bottom of your belly and looking up at you. 

“I’d never hurt anyone,” Jake pleads with you. “You know that…baby, you know that. I don’t even know what he’s talking about! I don’t know who Gwyar is! I’m so confused…Gale, please…we have to get away from him!” 

“Get the fuck away from--!” 

“Stop!” You cry desperately. Jake is holding you so tight that you can’t breathe. “Stop it!” 

But they’re not listening to you. 

I'd be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

“It isn’t me!” Jake sobs. “We have to get away from here!” 

“You fuck,” Bradley continues. “It took your blood! It wanted you! Sliced your hand when you were chopping that tree down!” 

The song ends. 

Your hearing goes out--fuzzy and fading. Every muscle beneath your sizzling skin is locked in place. A noose of fear wraps itself around your neck and tightens, tightens until you cannot breathe at all. Your lungs are stunted at a deep exhale. And you can’t close your eyes for even a millisecond to blink. Sulfur floods your nostrils--abundantly clear and thick in the air.

Jake stares up at you, horrified. He watches, in real time, as the realization dawns on you.

He was telling the truth. Bradley is the killer. 

“Bradley…” you whisper, voice quivering. Just barely, you turn your head. And Bradley is behind you, still looking like himself but ugly with rage and red with anger. “You cut your hand on the ax.” 

At first, his face contorts in confusion. He stutters, mouth parted. Brows furrowed, he attempts to say something. But his tongue is dry. But when he sees the fear in your eyes and hears Jake’s sobs, he knows the jig is up. He just gave himself away. 

You watch, in utter terror, as his face drops completely. And for the first time, as you stare at him, you see it: the pure, unadulterated evil. It’s there in the black in his pupils. The flecks of gold in his amber eyes are faded, gone. His smile is wide and broad, but it isn’t the smile you saw at the beginning of the summer. It is wicked--dry and nefarious. 

“Damn,” he says, sighing. He beams at you wickedly. So wicked that your arms go limp, the gun falling onto the floor. Good. He’s got you where he wants you. “I was doing so well, too.”

Lips open wide in shock, two stray tears fall down your face. 

And it is not a moment later that he brings the ax down.

Jake, with all the gall and gumption of the soldier his father wanted him to be, acts fast. So fast that he doesn’t even think--he just does.

“Gale!”

Closing your eyes, you accept it at once. You will die at the hand of Bradley--he’s killing you and you don’t know why other than he’s sick. And you’re already covered in blood, you already saw two dead bodies today. People are dying. You’re going to be another one to add to the pile. Your body will be covered with a sheet and your father will identify you with tears in his eyes and he will wonder why and you will die not knowing why. 

When you hit the ground, head slamming against the hardwood floors and neck cracking, you’re waiting for the pain to come. The first hit, the first hack. You’re waiting for release. 

But instead, you just feel heavy--something is brushing your nose because it is so close to you. And when you open your eyes, you’re staring into Jake’s. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth, too. 

For a moment, you’re not sure what’s happened. Then you hear the strangled moan he releases, the barely-there and quiet thing. A steady stream of blood floods out from his parted lips and into your mouth. 

“Jake?” You whimper, terror flooding your body until you’re cold with it. 

And he’s so heavy on top of you and so warm--deadweight. And the warmth, it isn’t just his body heat. No, no…it is a wet and slick warmth. It is his blood that is leaking from his body and onto yours. 

Choking out a sob, your spit red with his blood spewing onto his face, you try desperately to move your arms. He has you pinned--and he’s so heavy that you can’t move. 

“My, my, my…” Bradley laughs. He leans down, wraps his hands around the handle of the ax and steadies himself by pressing his foot on Jake’s back, and rips the ax from his back. Jake coughs--blood spews across your face and you whimper aloud, stunned. Bradley totes the ax over his shoulder like it is as friendly and unassuming as his guitar. “Sacrificing his life. Now, that’s love, huh?” 

Jake can’t feel anything. Not the gash on his back or the blood he’s losing. He can’t feel your body beneath him or the sobs ripping through your shocked form. He can’t feel any of it. He’s just looking at your face, his mouth wide open and gaping, and praying that Bradley will go. 

“Jake,” you sob again. You can’t breathe. You can’t move. “Jake! Jake!” 

If Jake could speak, he’d tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry he can’t do more. But he can’t, so he just slowly lowers his head until it falls into your neck. He stops moving.

Bradley watches from above you. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, sighs deeply. It feels good to be out in the open like this--no more lying, no more sneaking around. Just him, just you, just Jake. And he’s about to finish off the two of you and head to the bus barn. He’ll finish what was started thirty years ago--almost to the date, that sly dog. 

“Jake,” you keep whispering, shocked, stunned, horrified. Your body vibrates with panic. You don’t care about Bradley hovering over you. You care about Jake and the way his green eyes are losing the color, the way his cheeks are becoming pale. He can do nothing but stare at you, his vision beginning to blacken around the edges. “Jake, I…” 

And then Bradley kicks the shotgun--it slides across the floor and clatters against the wall. As if you weren’t already defenseless. You look up, quivering, and Bradley grins down at you. 

“I’m more of an ax guy myself,” he says, smiling. He leans down, settling the ax beside him. And then he strokes your hair back from your face, relishing in the horror that crosses your features. “Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

BOB BE LIKE:

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗��� 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

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#cruel summer #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #jake seresin x you #Bradley Bradshaw x you #horror au #80s slasher au #nightingale #summer camp au #dagger squad #tgm #tgm au #tgm fanfiction #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #robert bob floyd #reuben payback fitch #Jake Seresin x you x Bradley Bradshaw #hangster love triangle #female reader #cruel summer spoiler alert

[makethatelevenrings]

Hi can I request it hurts with Rooster? Thanks

TW: f!reader, pregnancy, labor

Your hand curled tightly around Bradley’s as another agonized scream poured from your lungs. The nurses were doing an incredible job and your doctor was coaching you through contractions, but nothing could stop the pure agonizing pain that labor wreaked on your body. With a heaving sob, you laid your head back and met your husband’s gaze. You saw him shift from your golden retriever Bradley into the calm, cool, and collected Lieutenant Bradshaw right before your eyes and your relief was immeasurable.

“You’re doing so good, baby. You’re the strongest fucking woman I know,” he said softly. 

“It hurts,” you whispered and he glanced at you, his warm eyes softening. Your husband might be a big, scary naval aviator when he was in the field or facing down some drunken asshole at the Hard Deck who wouldn’t leave Penny or the other bartenders alone, but he was really just a big softie. Once, when you were sick and he thought that the medicine had finally allowed you to sleep, he murmured a confession that you kept close to your heart.

He hated seeing you in pain, especially when there was nothing he could do about it, because it was as if he were feeling the pain too.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You knew that telling him he shouldn’t apologize would get you nowhere. As excited he was about being a father, Bradley had fretted over the various pregnancy and parenting books he had amassed. The closer you got to going into labor, the more he tried to stay home and help you out with basic tasks. Bradley knew it would hurt. He knew you would be in indescribable pain and all he could do was hold your hand and whisper encouragement. It was breaking his heart to see the tears trail down your cheeks.

“I need just two more big pushes, Mrs. Bradshaw,” your doctor called. You glanced up at Bradley once more and he cupped your cheek, tilting your chin up and pressing his forehead against yours. Your fingers curled around his hand once more and he nodded.

“You’ve got this, baby. You are going to push this baby out and then I’m going to make Phoenix get you the biggest fucking burger you’ve ever seen in your life. You are the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I know you can do this. I know it hurts, but you’re going to fucking rock this.”

“If there isn’t bacon on that burger, I will personally castrate you.”

He grinned and kissed you sweetly just in time for the next contraction to hit. Your grip on his hand was as tight as a vice and he would let you break every bone in his body and kill his career as a pilot if it gave you the tiniest hint of relief.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Breathe, baby. Just one more push,” he coached.

You kept your eyes locked with him as you grit your teeth and bared down. Another yell ripped out of your throat, but it was eclipsed by a higher pitched cry. With a gasping sob, you let your head fall back onto the pillows and looked over at Bradley. His eyes were fixed firmly on the squalling baby in the doctor’s hands, tears building in his eyes as he took in the sight of his daughter.

“She’s so small,” you whispered as the nurse lowered your daughter onto your chest before covering her with a towel and wiping off the amniotic fluid. A tiny hand curled around your finger and you smiled, all the pain seemingly forgotten.

“Thank you,” Bradley said, his voice thick with tears.

“For what?” you laughed. He leaned over the bed, his head next to yours as you both took in the sight of the wailing infant.

“For giving me this opportunity.” He kissed your temple. “My brave girl.”

“I still want that burger.”

“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely, ma’am.”

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick imagine #honey's 3k celebration

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets roped into helping Bob coach tee ball, even though he knows nothing about kids. But he is immediately charmed by his team and one of the moms.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I could really use your help," Bob told Bradley over some drinks at the Hard Deck. "Jake wouldn't take it seriously enough, and Phoenix already volunteers at the animal shelter. Will you do it?"

Bradley tipped his pint glass against his lips and took a long drink. "Ten weeks is a long time," he told his friend. 

Bob drummed his fingers against the bartop. "I need a contingency plan in case I get deployed. That's the only way the league will let me coach a team."

Bradley leaned forward on his elbow. "Bob, I don't really even know anything about tee ball. Or kids for that matter."

"You played baseball in college!" Bob reminded him with a hopeful smile. "And you were really good, right? Starting shortstop all four years?"

"You're just trying to use that against me, aren't you?" Bradley asked with a chuckle. 

"Of course I am! My sister is begging me to do this, and I want to! My niece is struggling in school, but she loves sports. I think she would do better with a coach she's familiar with," Bob gushed. "Come on."

But he was still shaking his head. "It's not that I don't want to, Bob. It's just that, I don't know anything about kids!"

"Kids are simple. You treat them like their opinions matter, and they'll love you forever. At least that's how it works with Piper, my niece."

Bradley heaved a deep sigh. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. He was single, work ended at 4:30 when he wasn't deployed, and he really did love baseball. It might be fun to teach a bunch of kids how to play. Hell, what did he have to lose?

"Yeah, okay."

Bob's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "Really? You'll be the co-coach of the Tiny Eagles with me?"

With a shrug and a smile, Bradley nodded his head. "Yeah, Bob. I'll be your co-coach."

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

"What do you mean you're not allowed peanut butter in the lunchroom?" you asked your son as you were making his school lunch. "You took a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on Friday!"

"That was last week, mommy. The rules have changed, and it's important to be flexible."

You really despised it when your six year old used your own words against you.

"Everett, I don't have time for this. You'll need to buy lunch today, okay? Be flexible?" you said, glancing down at your half-dressed body. You needed to be on time for work today, therefore the elementary school cafeteria food would just have to do.

Everett scrunched up his nose but said, "Okay, mommy."

"Perfect," you said, shoving the jar of peanut butter to the side and pouring two bowls of cereal. "Eat your cheerios so I can get you to school."

You inhaled your own breakfast and then dashed back up to your room to finish getting ready. Your suit with the tight pants was the only one that was clean, so you squeezed yourself into them and found a clean bra. Frank would be in the office today, and you'd gotten used to him meeting up with you around lunchtime to make out a little bit, even though it was strictly against company policy. He'd like the tight pants, you supposed. 

Once you added some mascara and lip gloss to your face, you found your black heels and started back down the stairs. "Shit," you muttered, turning around again. Today was Everett's first day of tee ball practice, so you grabbed a pair of old sneakers to change into later. 

You felt like a scattered mess all the time, especially since Danny, your ex-husband was almost no help with Everett. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to punch the wall, so you took a calming breath and put a smile back on your face before you entered the kitchen. 

"Let's get going, sweetie. You've got tee ball after school today, so I'm packing some extra snacks."

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "I've been waiting all month for baseball to start!"

You smiled and ushered him out to your car. "Remember, it's not quite baseball, so don't get ahead of yourself, Ev. But tee ball is a good place to start."

"Yeah, I know. But it's still going to be fun."

Once you dropped him off at school, you raced to your office and tried to sneak to your desk without anyone bothering you. Thankfully you made it all the way there before Frank let himself in. 

Yeah, you and he were hooking up. Yeah, you had slept over his house last weekend while Everett was with your sister. But you still didn't want him to just waltz into your office whenever he felt like it.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, walking toward your desk. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Frank," you told him, trying to compile your spreadsheets while he kissed your cheek. "Just very busy. And Everett has practice this evening."

"When are you free to go out again?" he asked, stroking his fingers down your neck. God, it felt good to be touched like this, but Frank really wasn't your type, and he was mediocre at everything. He was mediocre at work, usually doing the bare minimum. He was a mediocre kisser. He had mediocre looks. He was probably below average in bed. 

But you were a single mom who barely had time to eat, only washed her hair three times a week, and usually fell asleep about thirty minutes after Everett did every night. 

"I'm not sure, Frank. I'll have to let you know." Bottom line, you'd probably schedule another date for next week when you'd be too horny again to mind that you weren't that into him. Not the best way to live your life, but what else were you supposed to do?

"You just call me, and I'll take you out anywhere you want."

What you wanted was to be able to introduce Everett to the guy you were spending time with, but Frank hated kids. 

"I'll let you know. I'm just busy at the moment, so..." You let your sentence hang until he nodded and took the hint. When your door closed behind him, you got back to work. Of course you were in the middle of a phone call and existing solely on caffeine when your alarm went off to let you know you needed to go pick Everett up.

"Sounds great. I'll talk to my clients and get back to you soon," you said, ending your work call and sweeping your work into your bag. 

"Shit." You'd accidentally skipped your lunch again. You ate your sandwich while you were in the car pickup line at Everett's school and then touched up your mascara and lip gloss. 

"Ready, sweetie? First day of practice!"

He climbed into the car and buckled himself into his seat. "Ready!"

You just smiled as he tugged his Phillies hat lower over his forehead. You'd been taking him to Padres games as often as you could, ever since he'd become obsessed with baseball. Each time the Padres played a new team, you let Everett pick out a shirt or hat to remember the game by. For some reason that Phillies cap was his favorite. 

"I hope my team colors are red and white, so they match my hat," he said, munching on a snack while you pulled into the ballpark lot. 

"That would be fun. Just remember, we don't complain about things like the color of your uniform," you mumbled, snagging an empty spot next to a vintage Ford Bronco. You gave it a quick once over before you got Everett and his equipment out of the car and started to head toward the field, changing your shoes as you went. 

"Are those my coaches?" Everett asked as you lugged his bat and carried your heels in one hand. "What were their names again?"

"Um, Coach Bob and Coach Bradley? I think? We'll find out in a minute," you said, but when you looked up, you saw two extremely handsome men walking toward you. They were wearing matching blue jerseys, caps and whistles, and your tummy dipped at the way the one with darker hair carried himself when he walked. He was almost strutting across the infield, and his baseball cap was on backwards. 

You bit back an embarrassing sound before it could escape you, and you had to force your mouth to shut.

"Come on, mommy!" 

Your attention snapped back to your son who was now headed for the bleachers. He was already changing into his cleats amongst all the other kids by the time you caught up to him. 

When you glanced up toward the coaches again, the one with the backward hat was already looking at you. His head was cocked a little to one side, and he had a cute, crooked smile playing at the corner of his mouth. And you immediately wanted to disappear. 

How embarrassing, being caught out like that. The blond coach with glasses blew his whistle, and the kids went into a frenzy. You quickly shoved Everett's sneakers into his bag and got your phone out. You took a seat near the other parents while Everett and the other kids all trotted out to the field.

But you could clearly hear the two women behind you whispering. "These coaches are eye candy, Tara! This season is going to be fantastic!" 

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

"Here's the full schedule. And you don't have to worry about the theme days, because I already took care of all of them," Bob said, clearly trying to sound reassuring as he handed Bradley packet after packet of paperwork.

"Theme days?" Bradley asked, skimming the calendar. 

"Yeah, like there's a day where the kids can wear costumes for practice. Another day where they can dress in their favorite sports shirt. A swim party. Fun stuff to keep them engaged. I already added them to the calendar," Bob said. Bradley just nodded as they made their way back across the field. 

But when he looked up toward the bleachers, his eyes caught on something so pretty, he couldn't look away. You were carrying some seriously tall high heels in one hand and a tee ball bat in the other as you made your way toward the huge group of kids. 

Bradley should be embarrassed. He really should. He had assured Nat that there was no way he was going to start jonesing for any of the moms. They weren't his type. He never sought them out, and he never ever dated them. 

But there was no denying that you were exactly the type of woman he'd try to chat up. You were pretty; god, you were gorgeous. Your suit pants were distractingly tight, and he thought your sneakers looked cute paired with them. He was grinning when you made eye contact with him, and his smile just grew. 

He watched you scramble and pull your phone out of your pocket just as Bob blew his whistle, calling the kids onto the field. 

"Welcome, Tiny Eagles! I'm Coach Bob, and this is Coach Bradley! Who's excited to be here for tee ball?"

Bradley couldn't help but smile as all of the kids jumped up and down and cheered. Lots of them had cute grins with missing teeth, and Bob's niece Piper was hugging Bob's leg. 

"When I point at you, tell us your name, okay?" Bob went through the group of twenty kids, and Bradley would be lucky to remember even three of their names after this first practice.

"Let's get started with some warm-ups!" Bob instructed. "Who knows how to do jumping jacks?"

All of the kids started jumping at the same time while Bradley and Bob tried to get them to count to ten. Their excitement had Bradley smiling and laughing, and at Bob's instruction, he led all the kids in a jog around the bases. When he rounded second base and then third, Bradley had the perfect view of you sitting at the bottom of the bleachers. 

You were tucking your hair behind your ear, and he met your eyes again. This time you smiled back before your eyes dipped to the turf in front of you. Then you glanced up again and waved your fingers to whichever kid was yours. Bradley could imagine you waving to him that way. He could imagine you doing a lot of things he might like. 

He sighed and joined Bob as he started to get the kids lined up for practice catching. Bradley adjusted gloves on a few kids' hands, and then he knelt down in front of an adorable little boy who had untied laces.

"Hey kiddo, what's your name again?"

"Everett!" 

"Right. Everett. Can I re-tie your laces for you? Make them nice and tight? Don't want any injuries so early in the season."

When the boy nodded, Bradley started to tie up the cleats for him.

"I like your Phillies cap. That's my favorite team," Bradley said with a smile.

He watched the kid's eyes grow wide. "Really? It's my favorite team, too! My mom took me to see them play the Padres last year, and they won!"

"Oh yeah? Your mom sounds cool."

He nodded vigorously. "My mom is so fun. She doesn't really know stuff about baseball, but she took me to a bunch of games to see different teams last summer."

Bradley was grinning as he was about to stand. "Which one's your mom?"

Everett turned to look over his shoulder, and Bradley followed his extended finger to where you were sitting. "Over there. In the suit."

Bradley watched you uncross and recross your legs and play with your hair before you glanced up from your phone and found him and Everett both looking at you. A hesitant smile found your lips and you waved again. This time Everett and Bradley both waved back. 

"Holy cow, kid. Your dad's lucky."

Everett just gave Bradley a confused look. "Oh, no. He's not fun like her. He doesn't take me anywhere."

"Ready?" Bob called to where Bradley and Everett were chatting. With one final look at you, Bradley stood and led Everett by the hand to where the kids were all lined up along the first base line. 

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

So that was Coach Bradley. You didn't seem capable of keeping your eyes off him. Your phone kept buzzing with work emails that you kept ignoring. Any time Everett wasn't engaged in the practice, your gaze drifted to Coach Bradley, his backward hat, and his snug shorts. 

The other moms and nannies were all abuzz over the cute coaches, and you were silently agreeing with everything they said.

"They both must be at least six foot two."

"I wonder if they are single. I don't see any rings. God, I hope they are single."

"I'd let Coach Bradley bring his whistle to bed."

When practice ended, you were flushed and warm as you started to gather up Everett's bag. He came running over to you with his arms outstretched for a hug. 

"Guess what! Coach Bradley likes the Phillies!"

You laughed as you caught him for a hug. "Does he really?" you asked, glancing to see that all of the moms had swarmed around both of the coaches. 

"Yeah! It's his favorite team!" 

"Did you have fun then? Tee ball is a success, and you want to come back on Thursday?"

"Yes!"

"Love to hear that. Let's get packed up and head home for dinner."

But Coach Bradley was looking at you again as you tossed Everett's mitt and cleats into his bag. And when you began to turn to head back to your car, he came jogging over to you.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "I didn't get to introduce myself before. I'm Bradley."

He held out his big hand to you, but you felt like you were moving in slow motion now. His voice was so deep and raspy, and his hand was big and calloused. He was so tall, standing right in front of you and smelling like sweat and spicy deodorant. And you didn't even want to get started on his brown eyes and his mustache. You were turned on enough that you feared you might squeak instead of actually speaking, but you did manage to open your mouth and tell him your name as you slipped your hand into his. 

"It's nice to meet you," he replied, and your tummy dipped again. "Everett told me you took him to see the Phillies play."

"I did. Last summer. He's baseball obsessed." You were still gently shaking his hand, but he wasn't letting go yet.

"He's a fun kid. Happy he's on my team."

"He likes you already," you said with a smile, and as your hand left his, you missed his warmth right away.

Suddenly Everett popped up next to you. "I'm hungry."

You kissed his forehead and said, "I have snacks for you in the car. And I'll make dinner as soon as we get home. Can you thank your coaches?"

Everett smiled and gave Bradley a high five when he held his hand up. "Thanks Coach Bradley," he said before running off toward Coach Bob. 

You went to grab the equipment bag off of the bench, but Bradley reached for it too. "If you're heading out, I could walk up with you." You nodded and let him take the bag as Everett ran back over. 

As you scooped up your heels and led the way to your car, you listened to your son ask his coach a string of questions.

"Are we going to do batting on Thursday? What if it rains? Do we get a rain delay? Have you ever won coach of the year? How long have you been a Phillies fan?"

You were just about to tell Everett to chill, but Bradley started to answer all of the questions in stride. 

"We are definitely going to have batting practice on Thursday. I'm pretty sure we will just cancel practice if it rains. You don't want your mom to have to sit on a bench in the rain while you have all the fun and get muddy, do you?"

Everett just laughed and shook his head. 

Bradley continued. "This is my first time coaching, so no awards yet. And I've been a Phillies fan since I was about your age." 

"How old are you now?" Everett asked.

"That's not nice to ask adults, Ev," you said, tossing Bradley an apologetic look.

"What? I just want to know if he's the same age as you," Everett replied. Then he turned to Bradley and said, "My mom is thirty three."

"Everett!"

But Bradley was just laughing. "How about a math problem. What's thirty three plus three?" he asked, but he was still smiling at you as he adjusted his baseball cap.

"Thirty six!" Everett said as you all reached your car.

"That's how old I am," Bradley informed him with a smirk. "And you're very good at math."

"Mom! He's your age!"

"That's enough, Ev," you said, ushering him into the back seat. You took the bag from Bradley and tossed in on the backseat as well.

You turned to Bradley and tucked your hair behind your ear. "Thanks for walking us up. And sorry about the interrogation."

"I don't mind," he said, leaning in closer to you so he could see Everett, and making your breath hitch in the process. "See you on Thursday, kiddo?" he asked Everett, and his neck was right next to your face. He smelled so good.

"See you on Thursday, Coach!"

Bradley opened the driver's door for you, and as you thanked him and slid past, you realized you were more attracted to him after less than an hour in his presence than you were to Frank. 

"See you on Thursday," he said before gently closing your door. 

As you backed out of your parking spot, you watched him toss some of his gear and his hat into the vintage Bronco. He ran his hand through his hair and waved to Everett who was waving out the window. 

"Coach Bradley is so cool."

"I'm glad you liked him," you replied, and you watched him in your side view mirror as he started unbuttoning his jersey. You swallowed hard. "I liked him, too." 

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

He's here! He's really here! And I am excited! I hope you liked this first part! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and thanks to@mak-32 for the gorgeous banner for this fic!

PART 2

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 4) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.5k

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

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: Jake tries to talk to you, if only your family would stop getting in the way.

Series Master List

Master List

One Hour Earlier

Jake closed the door to his truck and walked up to Coyote and Phoenix’s house. They bought it during the preparations for the wedding, which definitely added to their stress level at the time, but it was nice to come home to a house that was all theirs after their honeymoon. And now Jake was reporting for painting duty. He let himself in through the side door and spotted Javy in the kitchen, putting away some random things.

“Where’s Phoenix?” Jake asked, setting his keys and wallet on the countertop.

“She went to her parent’s house for the weekend to grab some stuff and help out a bit.”

“And you promised to get a whole bunch of shit done while she was gone?” Jake guessed, gesturing to the empty boxes and random tools and materials all over the place.

“And you’re going to help me with all of that shit,” Javy replied, patting Jake on the arm. “Come on, let’s start painting.”

They walked into the spare bedroom and started cleaning out all of the shit that was shoved in there. Setting up the sheets on the ground, Javy glanced over at where Jake was pouring the paint into the tray.

“So, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing much,” Jake replied, turning back to the wall. “Just the same old shit.”

Javy nodded and stood up, fixing Jake with a knowing gaze. Javy and Jake had been best friends since the Academy and Javy liked to think that he knew Jake more than well enough to know when something was up with him. Good or bad. And Javy was very much aware that Jake wasn’t himself.

“How’s everything going with your relationship?”

“It’s over,” Jake replied simply. “And it wasn’t even a relationship.”

“What happened?”

Jake shot Javy a look, but Javy shot him one right back. Jake could play the whole nonchalant bullshit with everyone else, but Javy would call him out on it when he felt it was needed. And after seeing the change in Jake’s demeanor after whatever he wanted to call your relationship ended, Javy knew that he needed to call him out.

Jake picked up a roller and started to paint the wall in straight, even lines. Javy did the same, though he was still feeling out Jake at that moment. He usually just had to give Jake a little bit of time to think over it on his own before following up.

“And you’re okay?”

“No, but nothing I can do about it now,” Jake replied, a bit tensely.

“Did she block you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jake mumbled, running the roller through the paint again. “She’s been reaching out to me, but I haven’t responded.”

“Because?” Javy stressed, earning a sigh from Jake in return.

“Because what’s the point? It was never going to go public. She’d never stand up to her family about it. And we just didn’t work anymore.”

“Didn’t work with what?”

“We weren’t on the same page.”

“About?”

“For fuck‘s sake, Javy.” Jake set down the paint roller and turned to Javy, who remained calm and eyed Jake with a knowing expression. “She was acting weird before the wedding and at the reception she just blew me off, so what was even the point of all of it? It was just a waste of time for both of us.”

“Or did she hurt your feelings and you wanted to push her away to protect yourself?” Javy asked, setting down his own paint roller.

“You’re not my therapist, Javy,” Jake muttered, looking away from his best friend.

“I know I’m not. But I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you made the right choice when you look as miserable as you do.” Jake sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, causing Javy to soften a bit. “Jake, you were really happy when you were with her. And maybe you two grew apart and maybe you want different things in life and maybe I should just mind my own business. But just talk to her. At least figure out why she was avoiding you in the first place.”

“It was probably something with her brother or Mav,” Jake huffed, picking his head up more. “Or, hey, maybe she found a new fuckbuddy.”

“You don’t know any of that. And she’s not the type to play shit like that and you know it, Jake.” Coyote paused for a moment before adding, “Hell, maybe it was something with work or she’s dealing with some other issue and she wanted to figure it out first before telling you about it.”

“I just don’t know what would cause such a sudden change in her. I mean one minute she was fine and the next she just shut down.”

“You know how you’re going to find out?”

“How?”

“Talk to her,” Javy emphasized.

“I liked you better before you got together with Phoenix,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re acting all wise now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javy muttered, waving Jake off. “Now, be an adult and go talk to her. And, hey, maybe in a year, I’ll be your best man at your wedding.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jake sighed, getting to his feet. “And I’m holding you to it, Javy. If it’s a shitshow, you told me to start shit.”

“Get out already.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Jake grabbed his keys and wallet and headed down to his truck. Sliding in, Jake thought about how to proceed before just deciding to drive over to your apartment. If the two of you were actually going to have the conversation, he wanted it to be in person. And well she was also a little worried he would lose his confidence if he gave it too long to linger.

Parking in the lot, Jake spotted your car and made his way up the stairs to your apartment. He, however, didn’t recognize Emma’s car parked in the lot too. Stopping in front of your door, Jake knocked lightly and took a step back. He knew that you had a viewport and could see that it was him. Whether or not you opened the door was your choice.

The door opened a few moments later and Jake was rather quietly surprised at how shocked you looked when you spotted him. Why hadn’t you looked through the viewport before answering the door like you always did?

“Jake,” you breathed out nervously.

“Hey,” he replied softly, unable to prevent himself from frowning a bit at your reaction.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk about . . . everything.” Jake paused, mulling over his words before asking, “Is this a bad time?”

“Um. . . yeah, kind of,” you responded, wincing. “My brother’s here. And Mav is on his way over here right now.”

Jake’s eyes widened a fraction but before the curse could slip from between his lips, Rooster walked around the corner.

“What’s taking so long, old—Hangman?” Bradley corrected himself, very openly frowning when he spotted his teammate in the hall. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, he’s just here to pick something up,” you lied, turning to face your brother.

“Pick up what?”

“Uh, his . . . sweatshirt,” you decided, gesturing for Jake to come inside. “He let me borrow it at the beach when Coyote and Phoenix had their thing and it got cold.”

“And he just dropped by?” Bradley asked, staring after you as you hurried to your bedroom to grab it before shooting Jake a look. “Without your permission?”

“I told him that I was going to be here,” you snapped back defensively. “It’ll be two seconds. Calm your tits.”

Hurrying into your room, you started to dig around your closet for Jake’s sweatshirt that he gave you several months ago right before he went on deployment. You wore it on multiple occasions and by now Jake’s scent had long ago disappeared from the fabric. Meanwhile, out in your living room, Jake and Bradley were in the middle of a staring contest.

“So, you were just in the neighborhood?” Rooster asked suspiciously.

“I do live in this town too, Rooster,” Jake reminded him, causing Rooster to narrow his eyes a bit.

“So,” Emma cut in, trying to control the tension, “how have you been, Hangman?”

“Peachy.”

“Here you go, Jake,” you called, hurrying over and shoving the sweatshirt into his hands before urging him towards the door. “Well, thanks for giving it to me. For that day.”

When you were only two steps away from the door, there was a sharp knock. Cursing under your breath, you glanced at Jake to see that he looked like he was readily planning to climb out the window, before turning to the door. Letting out a breath, you opened the door to reveal Maverick and Penny standing there.

“Hey, Mav, Penny,” you greeted them, trying to act normally.

“Hangman?” Maverick asked, confused.

“Maverick,” Jake returned, his face impassive though he was sweating nervously.

“He was just grabbing something,” you cut in, talking just a little too fast. Maverick looked over at you, raising his eyebrow just a bit. “And he’s leaving right now. So, uh, bye Hangman.”

“Yeah, uh, see you around.”

Jake moved past you and he was about to walk past Maverick when the older aviator stopped him from his escape.

“Where are you going, Hangman?”

“Just heading home, that’s all,” Jake stated, turning to Maverick. Scrunching up the sweatshirt you gave him, he held it up. “I’ve got some laundry to do.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” Maverick offered, causing you to shake your head slightly. “And cake too, if you want. You saved my life, so it’s the least I can offer you.”

“I think he said he already has plans, Mav,” you tried to butt in.

“I’m sure the laundry can wait,” Maverick insisted kindly, though with an edge of force.

Jake shot you a slightly nervous look, to which you tried to discreetly shake your head. Penny seemed to be eyeing the exchange curiously, though you knew she sensed Maverick’s tone. You sent Jake a look to get out while he could. But then bigmouth Bradley came around the corner and decided to butt in.

“Yeah, I’m sure we can find something to talk about,” Bradley stated, leaning on the wall with his arms folded in front of him.

And Jake, sensing his rapidly approaching defeat, started to surrender.

“I don’t want to intrude—”

“—You're not,” Maverick interjected before gesturing inside your apartment. “Come on, I’m sure the food’s getting cold.”

You stood stone faced by the door as Bradley, Maverick, and Penny walked further into your apartment. Sharing a defeated look with Jake, who pulled up the rear, you shut the door and tried to calm yourself down before you turned on your heel and headed towards the table.

You found yourself sitting with Maverick on your right at the head of the table, Jake to your left looking uncomfortable as hell, and Bradley across from you with a sharp glare directed at Jake. You shared a look with Emma, who returned an apologetic grimace. Staring at the glass of wine in front of you, you simply ducked your head and stared at your plate.

“So, what caused the sudden change in location?” Maverick asked curiously.

“There was a minor problem at your place,” you replied, staring down at your plate.

“We set the oven on fire,” Bradley filled in, causing you to kick him under the table. Bradley shot you a look before turning to Maverick. “And then she threw up again and we just decided to get out of there.”

Again?

Jake glanced over at you from the corner of his eye, concern clear in his gaze. You didn’t look severely ill. Maybe a bit flushed, but not ill. So what caused you to throw up so often? And how did you just seem to bounce back if you were so sick and throwing up?

“How did the fire happen?” Maverick asked calmly, used to the back and forth between you and Bradley.

“I accidentally set the timer for too long,” Emma cut in, trying to take some heat off of you. “I walked off and it boiled over and burned.”

“Not a problem. That oven was ancient anyways,” Maverick dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I barely used it as it was.”

The family conversation continued on with an occasional pointed comment directed at Jake from Bradley, but it wasn’t too much. You seemed to be well-versed in how to deflect your brother’s questions and comments. It almost made Jake wonder why you were so cautious about him being anywhere near Rooster or Maverick with him.

“Anyone want a refill?” Penny offered, getting up from her seat.

There were a few mumbles around the table, but when Jake glanced over at your wine glass, he was a bit more than just surprised that it looked like you hadn’t touched it. Not that you had to drink the wine. But why didn’t you?

“So, Hangman,” Rooster cut in, causing Jake to turn away from you, “did you spend a lot of time together? Planning Coyote and Phoenix’s wedding and all, I mean?”

“Yeah, so what?” you snapped in Jake’s defense. “I spent a lot of time with Emma’s brother for your wedding, Bradley.”

“It was just a question,” Bradley scoffed in return.

“This is a great meal, Emma,” Penny announced louder than she needed to speak. “What restaurant did you get it from?”

“Ferrucci's down the road from here,” Emma answered, talking loud as well. “It’s really good. We should go there more often.”

“How was the wedding in your end, Hangman?” Maverick continued, getting the conversation back on track despite Emma and Penny’s attempt. “I feel like you were quite busy.”

“Yeah, I was,” Jake replied honestly.

“We didn’t see you at the after party,” Bradley added, earning a nudge from his wife.

“I was feeling under the weather. Just tired from everything,” Jake stated, staring down Bradley, not at all afraid of him.

He was slightly terrified of Maverick. But Bradley? Not even a little bit.

“Funny. That’s exactly what someone else said that night,” Bradley replied, turning to look at you. To which, you narrowed your eyes and shot your brother a warning look back. “What a weird coincidence.”

“Bradley,” you hissed, placing your hands on the table, “if you want to ask a question, just ask it. Stop being weird about it.”

“Should we cut the cake?” Emma interjected, trying to prevent a fight.

“I think we should,” Penny agreed, getting up from her seat. She called your name, causing you to look away from Bradley. “You made the cake, so you get to set up the candles and everything. Come on.”

With one last look over at your brother, you got up from your seat and walked into the kitchen with Penny and Emma. And that left Jake at the mercy of both Bradley and Maverick. Once the three of you were out of earshot, Bradley turned to Jake with a dark look.

“Are you messing around with my sister, Bagman? Because I swear to—”

“—I’m not,” Jake muttered, glaring over at Rooster. Anymore, at least. “Is that good enough of an answer for you?”

Rooster glared right back at Jake, practically screaming that no, it wasn’t good enough for him. Even though they had come a long way since the mission, it was near impossible to just get rid of years of resentment and tension in a moment. And anyone who knew Rooster well enough knew that messing around with his little sister was a sure fire way to be at high risk for getting a fist to the face.

“Bradley,” Maverick cut in, causing Jake and Bradley to turn to him, “drop it. Your sister is old enough to take care of herself.”

Maverick and Bradley had their own staring contest for a moment until Jake excused himself from the table, needing to cool down for a second. Walking down the hall and into the bathroom, Jake shut the door and let out a breath. Running a hand down his face, he sat on the toilet cover and stared at his hands.

“What the fuck did you get yourself into, Jake?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re a real big fucking idiot, you know that?”

Sighing again, Jake got to his feet and turned to walk out of the bathroom when he accidentally kicked the small trash can over. Cursing under his breath, Jake kneeled down and hurried to clean up the mess. Picking up a plastic wrapper, Jake was about to toss it back into the trash when he caught some of the text on it. Frowning, Jake smoothed out the wrapper to read it.

And he nearly passed out when he read the plastic cover.

Prenatal Vitamins

Well, that sealed the deal. Especially when he thought about Rooster’s comment about how you were throwing up all the time lately. And then he remembered the full wine glass in front of you at dinner. And well, three coincidences didn’t seem that likely. And he couldn’t exactly say that the two of you were extremely careful every time with any sort of conviction.

Jake sat there and just stared at the plastic wrap, his whole world just exploding in front of him.

Meanwhile, out in the kitchen and slightly hidden behind a half wall, you were holding your hands to your face, trying to remain calm while Emma placed the candles on the cake and Penny gave you a supportive squeeze.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Penny whispered to you, urging Emma to hurry up with the candles. “We’re just going to eat cake and Jake will leave and it’ll all be fine.”

“Why the fuck is he here? Of all fucking days,” you cursed, letting out a breath. “And I’m going to fucking kill my brother if he keeps asking stupid questions.”

“Just hold onto those thoughts for now. Focus on getting through this dinner, okay?” Penny coached you, giving you another squeeze. “You’ll be fine. You will get through this. But it is a good reminder about some conversations that you need to have, okay?”

“I know, it’s just,” you sighed, feeling a wave of nausea hit you, “they’re all going to freak out. I know it.”

“You can’t control them. Only you. And you are holding way too much on your shoulders right now. You need to tell them. Or at least one of them,” Penny whispered, causing you to nod in return.

“I know. I’m already starting to show,” you mumbled, resting a hand on your abdomen. Letting out another breath, you turned back to Penny, “Let’s just get this party over with.”

You, Emma, and Penny walked out of the kitchen with the cake and candles all set up. Singing the birthday tune for Maverick, you sat back down in your seat. You were a bit surprised that Jake wasn’t there but he seemed to slowly make his way out of the bathroom and back to the table as the song wrapped up. You laughed and clapped with everyone else as Maverick blew out the candles, though you felt Jake’s gaze burn into your back.

“Thank you, thank you,” Maverick chuckled, waving the smoke away. “We’ll, what are we waiting for? Let’s eat cake.”

“I should go,” Jake suddenly spoke, causing everyone to turn to him. He seemed to stumble over his words for a moment before adding, “Coyote texted me. I guess there’s some problem at the house.”

“Well, we don’t want to keep you if you need to go,” Penny stated, knowing that it was best to reduce the tension in the air.

Jake bid his awkward goodbyes, almost acting like he was a puppet being controlled by some higher power before he left. He didn’t or couldn’t look you in the eye about it. Feeling a bit taken aback by his sudden change, you whipped around to shoot Bradley a death glare.

“What the hell did you say to him?” you demanded, causing Bradley to scoff.

“Nothing. Why do you even care anyways?”

“It’s my apartment. If you want to pick fights with people, do it at your place, not mine,” you deflected, causing Bradley to roll his eyes.

“Don’t mess around with him. I’m serious,” your brother warned you.

“And we’re cutting the cake!” Emma interjected, walking over with small plates.

The conversation was effectively over for now, but you still couldn’t help but let your mind wander. What the hell did Bradley say to Jake to freak him out like that?

Tags (PRETTY PLEASE have your AGE on your blog or message me about it to be tagged--thank you!):

[If I missed you, don’t feel bad about asking to be tagged again! But please make sure that your age is in your bio/comment/etc. Thanks!]

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#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #tgm #tgm fanfiction #top gun #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman series #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #the danger zone

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Here's a Loki request for you. This is from one of my fluffiest chapters of my old Loki series:

You and Loki have just had your first baby. You're resting one night, and you wake up and hear Loki's voice coming from the baby's room. When you sneak up to the open door, you overhear him pouring his heart out to your little one.

Sleepless night

PAIRING | Dad!Husband!Loki x Wife!Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | ~ 950 words

SUMMARY | You and Loki have just had your first baby. You're resting one night, and you wake up and hear Loki's voice coming from the baby's room. When you sneak up to the open door, you overhear him, pouring his heart out to your little one.

WARNING(S) | None.

A/N | Thank you so much for this request @avengersfantasies! I hope you will enjoy the route I took with this, I love all fluffy goodness with our favorite God of Mischief 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist

It's been a few days since you've given birth to your beautiful baby boy, Phoenix Lokison, and the two of you couldn't be any happier. It was a difficult delivery, but you would do it repeatedly if it means you can meet him again for the first time.

Because it has been such a difficult one, you had to stay in the hospital to ensure everything went okay. It's not every day someone gives birth to a half-god.

As soon as the two of you got the all-clear, all three of you went home, and you could finally enjoy life with your little angel. Or half-god.

Your arrival at the Avengers Compound went smoothly, mainly because the nursery was prepared before your little boy was born.

All of the Avengers helped set it up; some built the furniture in the room, Steve painted a gorgeous mural with a phoenix on the wall, and others made it feel cozier with plushies, books, and all those sorts of things.

And now that he is finally home, none of them could wait to meet your bundle of joy, but you were still exhausted, and Loki could tell without you needing to say a single word.

''Come on, Princess,'' Loki says as he guides you to your room in the Compound, hoping no one will interrupt you on your way to bed. Apparently, That luxury is unavailable today because you've barely gotten inside the door before Thor notices you three.

''Ah, there's the beautiful family!'' he thunders, and for a few long seconds, you're afraid he woke up Phoenix, but he stays very asleep in your arms.

''Thor, please. We will see you later, but right now I need to rest, and he just fell asleep, so we would like him to sleep a little longer,'' you tell him, and he walks away after apologizing profusely.

After that, there are no more incidents, and when you arrive in your bedroom, you sit down on the bed, letting Loki take Phoenix out of your arms and put him into his little crib.

''He looks perfect, and it's amazing how much he looks like you,'' Loki tells you, and you couldn't agree more. Though he has his dad's long hair, his face is almost a carbon copy of yours.

''He's the perfect mix of both of us,'' you whisper as you let Loki help you undress, ensuring you're still doing okay before putting on an oversized sleep shirt and crawling under the comforter.

''You're doing so well, Princess. Please, get some well-deserved rest while I clean up the apartment a bit,'' your husband tells you as he tucks some loose hairs behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss on your temple while you slowly drift off to sleep.

It doesn't take Loki too long before he finishes cleaning the entire apartment, and when he's done, he decides to sit in the nursery and enjoy watching his son.

Phoenix has woken up by now, so Loki picks him up and sits down in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth as the two of them enjoy each other's company.

Not long after, you wake up and hear sounds coming from the nursery, but after your initial alertness, you realize it's Loki who's talking, and you calm down immediately.

Honestly, I still find it hard to believe she agreed to marry me. But I thank her every single day for it. She has made my life a whole lot better, and I'm very thankful for her,'' you hear Loki tell your son.

You crawl out of bed and walk over to the nursery, but you stay around the corner to avoid interrupting his bonding time with his son.

''I remember our first meeting like it was yesterday. She was buying a book as a present, and I was looking for new books. When she accidentally bumped into me, she had the cutest expression on her face, and I never looked back since,'' he says, looking back fondly at the memory.

At this point, you had moved to stand in the doorway of the nursery, just enjoying the two of them in their perfect glory. This comes naturally to Loki as if he has done it countless times before.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest out of pure joy and love when he says the following words.

''Sometimes I'm still in awe of her, how perfect she is in everything she does. During missions, outside of them, when she carried and protected you all these months, it's like everything comes so natural to her, and I'm so in love with her, I can't even begin to explain it,'' Loki says, and Phoenix looks at him with intent in his eyes.

When he lets out a small yawn, you can't help but chuckle, which notifies Loki of your presence in the room.

''It appears your stories bore him to sleep; maybe you should tell him how much you love me more often,'' you joke as you walk into the room.

''I don't mind. He deserves to know how beautiful, amazing, thoughtful, loving, and sweet you are, Princess,'' Loki says before capturing your lips in the sweetest, softest kiss.

''I love you too, Bubs,'' you say before taking Phoenix from his arms.

''It's feeding time, and I feel like I'm about to burst, so I hope this little Munchkin has a lot of hunger,'' you say as you sit down in the rocking chair Loki just got out of.

''I love you, Princess. And thank you again for giving me the most precious little human I could have ever wished for. He is perfect,'' Loki says as Phoenix latches on and starts drinking immediately, indeed very hungry.

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki laufeyson request #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki #loki fanfiction #loki request #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson fluff #loki fluff

[thebirdandthebee]

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. “I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow.  He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?” 

#Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #Bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster #rooster smut #rooster fluff #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x ofc #smut head #rooster is a big simp

[mrs-snape5984]

„You look beautiful undone…and my heart's connected.“

„We learn the most when we least expect it. We learn the most when we break in two. (…) It's the cracks that let the light shine through…“ („Beautiful Undone” by Laura Doggett)

“Her hands were brushing a strand of his silky hair out of his face and in this exact moment, Julia’s whole existence got just one purpose: She would always protect this way too skinny, raven-haired boy with his adorably crooked nose and those beautiful - and yet so sad - obsidian eyes!”

This is a tiny snippet from one of my stories, which I’m only writing in order to cope with my own pain. I guess, I won’t ever be bold enough to share them publicly and my friend @vulnus-sanare has the duty to burn my laptop as soon as I’ll be gone one day (even though she threatened me to share my dirty work with the people in our beloved Snapedom).

But this little snippet fits perfectly with the amazing artwork, which my friend, the extremely gifted @snake-queen7 drew for me.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Severus in his younger years. All I’d wanted was to keep this boy safe from harm, making him feel loved and cared for…because this is exactly, what he deserved!

In my stories, Jules is Sevy’s friend, his lover, his protector, his guardian angel, his saviour, his powerful goddess of revenge. And to be honest, you don’t have to be a psychologist to understand, where this is coming from. Julia’s strength and her determination to make the world a better place for her beloved Severus are rooted in my own feelings of helplessness and despair.

My reality with ME/CFS couldn’t be more different from my stories. I feel trapped. Trapped in my own diseased and disabled body…trapped in my room….trapped in my darkness…trapped in a life, in which I don’t feel appreciated anymore.

I’m feeling more and more like a useless piece of furniture, which someone has hidden in a dark chamber. Still good enough to keep it, even though it’s not in plain sight…or at least not bad enough to waste it eventually.

Where’s my light? Where’s my saviour? Where’s my way out of this hell? I guess, it’s just like Severus has said: “Well, it may have escaped your notice,but life isn’t fair!” (“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”)

I’ve always loved Severus for his resilience, his stubborn determination and strength. Since 21 years, he’s not only my comfort character and the love of my life…he’s my role model, my inspiration to keep on going…to keep on living.

So, I’m clinging to him and to all the things, I’m using in order to cope with my misery: I’m a loving mother of three wonderful children. I have a handful amazing friends with a deep understanding of my grief and despair, but who also appreciate my dry humour and my sarcasm. I’m still capable of pouring out my feelings onto paper, creating something beautiful in my stories. And I’m full of gratitude for the artists of Snapedom, who are helping me to bring my creative ideas to life with their art.

And that’s exactly, what you have done for me with this delightful piece of art, @snake-queen7! Thank you for giving me some comfort and peace for my troubled heart and soul by drawing Sevy and Jules again. You are wonderful and I appreciate not only your outstanding art, but also your kindness and compassion. Thank you for everything! 🥹

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

#sevy x jules #severus x julia #Severus x oc #fuck me/cfs #i have a soft spot for young severus #commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism #this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom #i would protect him with my life #i would fight for him #i would kill for him #i would die for him #i will defend him with my life #mecfs #i love severus #severus snape #i love snape #young severus #severus fanart #severus snape fan art #snart #severus snape art #snape art