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roosterforme · 10 months

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One Night in Vegas | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After you move in with Bradley, it doesn't take long for you to settle in to your life together. He makes dinner, you eat it. You make a mess, he cleans it up. He proposes in the most endearing way, you say yes. And then both of you spend one perfect night in Vegas.

Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! This was written for a request.

Check my profile for my masterlist

You were so close to your winter break, you could almost feel it. Your first semester teaching math at San Diego State University had been wild. At times, it was very rewarding, and you didn't want to be anywhere else. At other times, you were holed up in your office, working late into the night grading papers and planning out your lessons.

But the one constant thing had been Bradley.

"Hey, Sugar," he said, knocking softly on the open door of your home office. "Dinner." You stood and practically ran into his arms as you glanced at the office door on which you had written SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY.

"I don't want to grade any more exams," you whined loudly against his solid chest while he laughed.

"I told you not to wait until tonight to finish them."

You glared playfully up at him and tried to escape his arms, but he held you tight. "You're terrible," you informed him. "It's entirely your fault that I'm still working on them. You spent the whole weekend luring me back into our bedroom!"

He smirked at you and said, "It didn't take much convincing, Sugar."

You rolled your eyes and let him lead you out of your office and through the kitchen. "Oh, are we eating in the dining room? What's the special occasion?"

But you stopped in the doorway, heart pounding a million miles per hour as tears sprung to your eyes. "Bradley!" you gasped. There were five white doors lined up on the far wall, and each one had a single word scrawled across it in Bradley's big, tidy handwriting.

SUGAR

WILL

YOU

MARRY

ME?

When you spun to face him, you found him behind you, down on one knee. He looked blurry through your tears, but he was holding a ring between his thumb and index finger. You barely saw it though as you half sobbed and half shouted, "Yes!"

And then you were on top of him on the hardwood floor, straddling his waist and kissing his face while he smiled and held you tight to his chest. "I love you," he managed to say as you smashed your mouth against his. "Wait, wait," he whispered, reaching for your left hand. "Let me put this on you before it gets lost."

You let him slide the ring onto your finger as you said, "I love you so much, Beer Boy." And then he pulled you in for more kisses.

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

On New Year's Day, you and Bradley were curled up together on the couch, watching his vintage DVD of The Grateful Dead concert footage and nursing your hangovers.

"What are you going to do all week while I'm at work?" he muttered against your neck.

You shrugged in his arms. "Probably visit you and Nat on base one day and just mess up the house so you have something to complain about."

"Remind me again... why am I marrying you?"

"Because you can't live without me," you whispered as his nose skimmed the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled.

The five doors on which Bradley had written his proposal message to you were now a permanent feature in the dining room. And you took your dinner in there most nights to enjoy them while you ate, even if Bradley was on base late. Even the ring he got for you, which he was currently spinning around your finger, was perfect.

You didn't want to go back to work at the end of the month without having selected a wedding date. But every time you and Bradley talked about wedding plans, he told you the same thing: "Pick a date, Sugar. Vegas is available 365 days a year."

You wiggled yourself around on the couch until you were facing him, and he sang along softly to the DVD while you closed your eyes. When the song was done, you asked, "How serious are you about Las Vegas?"

He studied your face. "To get married?"

"Mmhmm."

"So serious," he replied, but he was looking at you a little skeptically.

But as a smile broke out on your face, he started kissing your cheeks. "Let's do it, Beer Boy," you told him with a laugh.

And soon he had you pinned underneath him on the couch while he sang Viva Las Vegas by Elvis and unhooked your bra.

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

When Bradley got home from work on Friday, the house was a damn mess, and you were looking at him with barely concealed excitement.

"What?" he asked cautiously. And then you started bouncing around. "What happened? Did you hire someone to clean up after you so I don't have to?"

"No!" you exclaimed, rolling your eyes. "I spent the entire day planning our wedding!"

Bradley's heart skipped a beat. "For real? When is it?"

"In two weeks."

He had your sweatpants off in an instant, and he bent you over the dining room table and fucked you while you told him the details.

"It'll be perfect," you moaned as he rocked your body with his thrusts. "Elvis and the Vegas strip and a heart shaped bathtub."

You were everything he had wanted for more than ten years, and the fact that you were letting him have this silly, no nonsense quickie wedding made him so happy. Neither of you had much family, and the only person he really cared to invite was Nat. But she'd give him a pass on missing his big day if she knew going to Las Vegas would make him happy.

"You're perfect, Sugar," he grunted, kissing your neck and eyeing the five doors lining the far wall. "I can't fucking wait, baby."

Bradley started packing that night, laying some of his favorite tropical print shirts on his open suitcase. But as the days wore on, you started to add some cold weather clothing into his bag for him.

"What's that for?" he asked you when he noticed you had folded up his heaviest coat and placed it on top of his short sleeved shirts.

"Our honeymoon."

He raised one eyebrow at you. "Are we not staying in Vegas for that?"

"Nope."

"Where are we going?"

"Not telling."

Bradley looked you up and down as you stood next to the bed in his favorite tie dyed tee shirt. "Do I need to fuck the information out of you?"

Your eyes went wide and your lips parted on a needy gasp. "I'd like to see you try."

After nearly an hour of giving you his hands, mouth and cock, you were a sweaty, gasping mess beneath him.

"Chicago," you managed to say as your eyes drifted closed. "Honeymoon in Chicago."

Bradley collected you in his arms and pulled you beneath the covers with him. You and he had made all those plans for Chicago together before you broke his heart more than ten years ago. And now you were really taking him there. The city where you lived when you were missing him. The city where you got your second tattoo. The city that haunted his dreams when he was twenty two years old and so lonely.

"I love you so much, Sugar," he whispered over and over until you fell asleep in his arms.

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

"Aren't we supposed to not see each other before the wedding?" Bradley asked you while you got dressed in the hotel bathroom. "Isn't that a thing?"

You rolled your eyes as you pulled on your white sundress. "I'm sure Elvis won't mind!" you called to him where he was getting ready in the bedroom.

"Speaking of Elvis, we need to be there soon, Sugar!"

Your flight from San Diego had been delayed, and now you were cutting it close for your appointment at the Chapel of Neverending Love next to Caesars Palace. "Grab the wedding bands!" you told him while you fixed your makeup. When you walked out of the bathroom a minute later, Bradley was standing there in a white linen shirt and pants with a huge smile on his face.

"You look beautiful."

Your dress was simple, and your engagement ring was your only accessory. But you did feel pretty, and you knew Bradley was eager to marry you today. "So do you, Beer Boy."

You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his mustache, and when you got to the chapel, Elvis was already waiting for you. The entire ceremony took fifteen minutes, and that included your wedding photos. And then they were ushering you out for the next couple to come in.

But the two of you were laughing and smiling nonstop as you looked at your rings and made out in front of the chapel.

"I'm ready to take my wife back to that heart shaped bathtub and have my filthy way with her."

But you looked up at his handsome face and shook your head as he held you close. "Not yet. It's time for your wedding gift."

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

Bradley thought he was going to faint from all the excitement. You and he were married. You and he were about to enjoy your wedding night. You and he were flying to Chicago tomorrow.

But then you told him the most magical words: Grateful Dead cover band.

"How the fuck does this day keep getting better?" he asked, kissing your neck and hugging you as you led him down the lit up sidewalk of the Vegas strip. Soon the two of you were surrounded by a bunch of hippies in tie dye. And Bradley knew all the words. And you held him tight the whole time.

"This is our wedding reception!" you told him over the loud music. And then the band started playing the song with the lyrics from your tattoo. The one you got because of Bradley.

You grinned at him as the singer said, "This song is for the newlyweds."

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and sang to you while you danced with him. "You don't know how easy it is to love you."

You were wound around him, singing the lyrics back to him as well. Perfect. You were perfect. And somehow, you were his.

When the song ended, he tipped his head back amidst all of the applause and cheers. "I fucking love my wife!" he shouted. "Seriously, Sugar! I love you so much!"

And he was still saying those words back at the hotel when you changed into your 'wedding night lingerie' which was just his old Grateful Dead tee shirt.

And he was whispering, "I love you," as he carried you to bed. When you pulled him closer and let him settle against your body between your spread legs, he paused with his lips just barely brushing yours.

"Sugar, I know we didn't have proper wedding vows, because Elvis only let us speak in his song lyrics, so I have a few things I want to tell you now."

You giggled, and said, "But I liked it when you called me your hunka hunka burnin' love."

He ran his hands all over your body and smiled. "Listen, you're definitely that, baby. But you're also the only woman I've ever loved. And I fell in love with you as soon as you spoke to me."

"Bradley," you whispered, running your fingertips along his scarred cheek and neck. Your pretty face was always so open and honest for him, and he loved you for that, especially right now.

"And I've been loving you for eleven years, nearly to the day," he told you, kissing the tip of your nose as your eyes filled with tears. "You changed my life. Twice. And getting a second chance with you is the most important thing that ever happened to me."

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm so happy I found you again, because I never stopped loving you either. How could I have?"

Bradley pulled your left hand to his lips and kissed your rings. "My vow is to keep loving you just like I did the night I met you in my disgusting fraternity house, and just like I did when we parted ways, and just like I did when you found my again, and just like I do right now. Because I'm better at loving you than I am at doing anything else."

"You are," you promised him as you sniffed. "You're so good at it."

And then Bradley spent the whole night loving you and your body and your voice. And it didn't matter if you and he slept at all, because you had the flight to Chicago for that.

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Thanks for sending in this request! I laughed and I cried. I just love Beer Boy so much! I love how happy they make each other. Thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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justabigassnerd · 7 months

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Bullying

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 2,081

Warnings - bullying, injuries, passing out, worried Jake & Bradley, angst, fluff, swearing

Summary - your bullies start to get physically aggressive with you, leading you to hide your injuries from your dads. but secrets never stay secret for too long...

A/N - hey y'all I be here with a new part of Hangman Junior for you all to enjoy! this was a request sent in by @honkyhonkyyessir and I just hope I did the idea justice! I won't ramble but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

You thought that after the events of fighting back against the people who insulted your dads, you’d be able to get through the rest of your school life unbothered.

How wrong you were.

Apparently, fighting back might as well have slapped a big target on your back with flashing lights, demanding to be aimed at. You couldn’t remember when the insults became acts of physical violence, but it soon became your new normal to hide injuries you sustained from your dad and Bradley.

One day, as soon as you finished your lunch in the large school dining hall, you ducked into the nearest bathroom to inspect the injuries you knew were forming under your shirt.

“Of fucking course.” You whisper through gritted teeth as you stand in front of a mirror, lifting the bottom of your shirt and seeing the beginning of a bruise forming on your side from where one jock decided it would be funny to launch his football at you as hard as possible while you made your way towards the school building.

You sigh as you inspect the bruise further, gingerly poking at it to explore the pain level and wincing at the tenderness. You knew you had every right to fight back. To show them that a Seresin couldn’t be pushed around that easily. But you couldn’t find it within yourself to risk getting into trouble at school. After the fight you had about people insulting your dads, Jake had made you promise not to get into any more fights. He and Bradley both understood where you were coming from, but they didn’t want you getting into trouble or getting hurt. So you respected their wishes and didn’t fight back, although you longed to. It got harder with each passing day as the guys got bolder in their bullying. You were grateful though, that you got home from school before your dad and Bradley which meant you had time to take some painkillers that would kick in by the time you had walked Moose and your dads had gotten home.

On this particular day though, the boys that picked on you were much more aggressive than usual. Tripping you in the hallway, bumping you into lockers, whatever they could get away with, they were doing. When the school day had ended you planned on slipping out as quickly and as quietly as possible but of course, things never went the way you wanted them to. You were spotted moments after exiting the building by the jocks who always mingled outside before their practice began.

“Hey Seresin!” You barely had the time to register the words that were yelled over to you before you felt something make harsh contact with the side of your head, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the ground, not having nearly enough time to break your fall meaning your head made strong contact with the concrete floor.

Dazed from the contact between your head and the concrete you remained on the floor for a moment, trying to pull yourself together enough to get up and make your way home so you can hide and lick your wounds over the weekend until it all starts up again on Monday. Just as you decided to move, one of the jocks crossed to you and landed a strong kick to your stomach, making you curl into yourself, a groan of pain escaping you as the group of boys jeer loudly. Through your blurry vision, you could make out students walking past, not even sparing you a glance as they rushed past, hoping your tormenters wouldn’t suddenly turn on them. Often, you wished people would just step in and help, or just make sure you were okay. But you knew they just wanted to protect themselves above everything. And all the teachers were still inside the building finishing up any work or prepping to leave themselves, so you had no hope of a teacher coming to your aid either.

Before anything else could be done, one of the boys noticed the time and they all rushed off to go to their football practice. A minute after they left you slowly sat up, coughing and wincing, desperately trying to blink the blurriness from your vision. You eased your bag back onto your back and bit back a wince as you forced yourself to your feet. Your vision was swimming, and your head was throbbing. You knew that once you got home you should take Moose out for a walk but with your head in so much pain you were sure he could forgive you if you just wanted to curl up on your bed with him and nap the headache off before your dad and Bradley got home.

You made your way home, head throbbing and convinced you probably looked drunk to anybody seeing you pass due to your inability to walk in a straight line. Thankfully, you made it home with little to no problems until you reached your front door, which due to the blurriness in your vision, took four attempts to get the key into the keyhole to unlock the door. When you enter the house, Moose is instantly by your side, tail wagging as he barks in greeting, making your head feel like it’s going to explode.

“Moose, buddy quiet down.” You plead the dog, grateful he listened to your request and sat himself down opposite you, panting happily as his tail swished side to side.

“Hey y/n/n!” You almost jumped when you heard your dad’s voice come from the living room. You were still hidden from his line of sight so you took the opportunity to lean against the wall, hoping your vision would focus.

“Hey dad, you’re home early.” You try to joke, glancing down when you feel Moose prodding at your upper thigh with his nose. If your vision wasn’t blurry, you would’ve seen the worried look in your pet’s eyes as he continued to poke at you, trying to communicate his wishes.

“We both finished up our paperwork early so we got out of there before Cyclone could give us anything else.” You hear Bradley chuckle as you squeeze your eyes shut, silently begging your head to fix itself before you get found out. You heard the sounds of footsteps approaching the hallway and you opened your eyes to see your dad and Bradley poking their heads around the corner, faces falling when they notice how positively miserable you look.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jake asks, eyebrow raised as you nod.

“Yeah, just got a little headache.” You lie, your vision growing darker from the nodding motion and before anyone else could say anything. Your legs stopped supporting your weight as you gave in to the inviting darkness.

Jake was quick to catch you before you hit the floor, looking up at Bradley desperately as both men panicked.

“y/n, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Jake says, turning his attention back to you, watching carefully for any response and feeling his heartbeat grow louder in his ears when you don’t respond.

“Let’s get her up to her room. We can monitor her here and when she wakes up, we can figure out whether to take her to hospital or not.” Bradley says, ever the level-headed one, as Jake nods, carefully getting to his feet as he keeps you securely in his arms, taking you up to your room and laying you on your bed. Moose jumped up on the bed just as Jake took a step back, having snuck in unnoticed.

“Moose, you should get down.” Bradley starts, stopping himself from saying anything else when Moose eases himself down alongside you, resting his head on your lap and whining softly, clearly worried about you as his eyes dart from Jake to you in the hopes Jake can fix what’s wrong with you.

“She’ll wake up soon, bud. She’ll be okay.” Jake promises the dog as he eases himself down on the desk chair to wait for you to wake up. Bradley crosses to Jake, takes Jake’s hand in his and squeezes softly, both men hoping it won’t be too long before you wake up.

You woke up just under five minutes later, eyes blinking open and being silently relieved that your vision was no longer blurry or swimming.

“y/n? Are you okay?” You glance over to see your dad leaping up from the chair, crossing to your bedside as Moose perks up at your side, lifting his head as his tail begins to thump against the duvet.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry if I scared you.” You mutter, glancing at both Jake and Bradley before trying to sit up, being stopped by a gentle hand on your shoulder from Bradley who shakes his head softly, encouraging you to stay put as Moose stretches up the bed, resting his head right where the bruise on your side was and neither Jake nor Bradley missed the slight wince you gave from the contact.

“y/n, sweetheart. I’d like the truth, please. What’s going on?” Jake asks softly, perching on the edge of your bed and looking at you, his worry evident all over his face. You reached out to stroke Moose, fingers tangling in his fur as Moose tentatively licks your arm. Comforted by your dog curled up next to you and the gentle expressions of both Jake and Bradley, you opened up. You told them about the bullying, about how the boys on the football team found enjoyment in treating you like shit. By the end of the explanation, both Jake and Bradley were furious, unable to believe that they were getting away with this.

“Those little shits better hope I never see them because I hate to think of what I’d do to them if I did.” Jake seethes, teeth gritted as he fights the urge not to run out of the house in search of them right now.

“Jake, the sentiment is appreciated but let’s not picture assaulting minors, as tempting as it is, it’s not the solution.” Bradley says, a hand braced on Jake’s shoulder just in case he tries to leap up and leave the house.

“We have to do something, Bradley. They’re hurting her.” Jake says, looking up at his husband who lets out a soft sigh, understanding why Jake wanted to fix this.

“And we’ll figure out a solution over the next couple of days. For now let’s let y/n rest, give her some painkillers, and let her relax. She’s okay.” Bradley says softly, watching as Jake lets out a soft exhale, feeling Jake’s body relax with the exhale and lifting his hand from his shoulder. Bradley excuses himself to grab some painkillers, leaving you and Jake alone in the room.

“I’m sorry for hiding it from you.” You mumble, briefly glancing over at your dad before looking back at your lap, ashamed of yourself for hiding this from him.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me about stuff like this. I can do my best to help you no matter the problem. That’s my job.” Jake says, his voice never straying from that soft tone you had grown so accustomed to growing up.

“I know. I just don’t want to worry you.” You admit, glancing at Moose who is watching you quietly.

“I always worry about you, sweetheart. That’s also part of my job as your father.” Jake says with a gentle chuckle, bringing a smile to your face as well.

“If you’re ever out and you need help. Call me or Bradley and we’ll get to you as quick as we can, okay?” Jake then says, looking at you as you nod lightly.

“Okay.” You confirm just as Bradley enters the room, painkillers, and a glass of water in hand. He hands you the items and you take the painkillers with a swig of water and relax back against your pillow after placing the glass on your bedside table. The two men then left you alone to rest, leaving you in the dutiful care of Moose who was more than happy to curl further into you and watch over you. As you set your laptop alongside you, opening a movie to watch you thought back on the threat that your dad had made towards the jocks that bullied you and laughed lightly.

You knew that if he ever did see those boys Bradley would have to hold him back.

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jupitercomet · 1 year

Text

The Trial Run: Chapter Three

summary - Bradley Bradshaw has one goal as he finishes his junior year of college - get Makayla Cunningham to be his girlfriend. Because Makayla Cunningham is exactly the kind of girl a guy like Bradley Bradshaw deserves. There's just one problem, Makayla is adamant that Bradley is a bad boyfriend. If he wants to win her over, Bradley has to prove he can keep a girlfriend of Makayla's choosing for the entire summer. It's just his luck that girl is his little sister's best friend

warnings - college au, frat boy Bradley, language, mentions of underage drinking, attempted peer pressure (?), Bradley is 22 and reader is 19, no use of y/n, Bradley is 6'6" because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 6.8k

the trial run masterlist

You wake up with a pounding headache, pulling your pillow over your head with a muffled groan. Your brain feels like it’s being stampeded by elephants as dull throbs of pain take over your entire skull. You scrunch your eyes as if that will somehow push the pain out of you—it doesn’t of course, but you still had to try. Your mouth tastes disgusting and your tongue feels grainy on the roof of your mouth. You need water.

Another groan is pulled from your lips when Natasha opens the blinds. “Rise and shine,” she sings and you flip her off with a grumble, sucking in a breath before you begin the arduous task of sitting up.

“This is why I don’t drink.” Again, your eyes scrunch as your body protests the movement by sending another wave of pain through your head. You open and close your mouth a few times, the aftertaste of a night of alcohol only tastes worse now that you’re more coherent.

Natasha laughs sympathetically, continuing to move around your dorm room as she gets ready. “Yeah, you were somethin’, all right. Do you remember any of last night?”

You sniff. Biting your lip, you run through all the blurry bits of the kickback you can remember easily, piecing them together like some college party shaped puzzle. You freeze suddenly, slapping your hands over your face. “Oh my god,” you squeak, and not even the intensity of your hangover can cut through the utter mortification that has dumped over your head like ice water. “I made Bradley Bradshaw carry me home.”

Natasha snorts.

“It’s not funny!” You whine. “I—” Your voice dies in your throat as more of your antics over the night come back to you. Somehow, it keeps getting worse - making Bradley take off your makeup, crying to him about how much of a loser you are, cuddling him while you did so. You have to stop yourself from screaming into your pillow. You asked him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

“You what?” Natasha prompts you, though somewhat offhandedly as she stuffs her laptop into her bag.

You swallow. There’s no way you can tell Natasha what happened—not unless you also want to tell her that you were feeling so insecure about your place in your friend group that you downed an entire cup of mixed, unidentifiable, alcoholic beverages. No, that’s just a secret for you. And now Bradley apparently.

“I… I’m never gonna be able to face him again,” you say instead. Which is also an entirely true statement. For the rest of your life, you have to avoid Bradley Bradshaw now. Giselle would understand that your only logical next step is to move into a cabin in the woods and go completely off the grid and never interact with another human being again. “I fell asleep on him!”

Natasha scoffs, “You’re so dramatic. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s Bradley. I mean, you should have seen how quickly he agreed to leave his own party to take you home.” She pauses when she opens the door of your dorm, freezing just before the threshold. With a sigh, she steps aside, a hand sweeping out as if to present the hall to you. “I rest my case.”

You scramble out of bed to see what she’s talking about, curiosity overpowering your hangover for the time being. On the carpeted floor of your hallway, right outside your door, is a 20 ounce bottle of water and a single daffodil. Picking up both objects, you read the sticky note stuck to the front of the bottle.

I was going to get you a Red Bull, but I figured this would be better for your head. — Bradley

Partly to quench your intense thirst and partly to avoid Natasha’s teasing look, you screw off the cap of the water and take several large gulps. Some of the water spills from the corners of your lips and you wipe it with the back of your hand. It’s then that you’re reminded of the daffodil stem between your fingers.

“Yeah, I’m gonna say that Bradley’s not too upset about last night,” Natasha snorts.

You take another gulp of water, staring down at the daffodil. “Do you think that if I emailed my professors and told them I can never leave this dorm ever again, they’d let me do everything online?”

Natasha laughs again, throwing the other strap of her bag over her shoulder and pulling her keys from her pocket now that you’d cleared the items that were blocking her path in the first place. She, Mickey, Giselle, and Reuben were all planning on visiting a new cafe that had opened up near campus. They’d invited you too, but Bob wasn’t able to make it and you know a double date when you see one, so you declined. Given everything that happened last night, it stings a little more than it did when they first brought it up, but you try to push the feelings away. Maybe you’d stop by the campus cafe or something.

Your head throbs at just the thought.

“Well, you let me know if we’re becoming mole women, okay?” Natasha jokes, stepping out into the hallway with a smile. She looks back at you for a second, a smirk soon replacing the smile on her lips as she glances at the eye-catching, orange sticky note on your water bottle. “But, for now, enjoy your water.”

The door closes as she laughs at her own sing-song words and you groan at her teasing. Taking another gulp of water, you placed the daffodil on an empty corner of your desk. For a moment all you can do is stare at it, its bright yellow petals not quite mocking you but certainly confusing you. You flop face first onto your bed with a groan.

And then instantly regret it.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You hiss, eyes squinting shut as your hangover over takes you again. It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for you to be able to uncurl yourself from the fetal position, but finally, once it no longer feels like your cranium is currently losing a fight to Conor McGregor, you’re able to peel yourself from your bed for the second time this morning.

The water Bradley got for you is already half finished and you take another grateful gulp. It does enough to dull the pain of your head and you wet your lips with your tongue as you screw the cap back on, glancing again at the daffodil on your desk.

Bradley.

If your 10 year old self could see you now, she’d probably hit you. Why are you blowing this?! She’d scream as she threw a shoe at you—and then another shoe, and then probably a very large book—and you’d have to gently explain to her that guys like Bradley Bradshaw don’t usually go for girls like you. And then she’d probably point accusingly at the daffodil on your desk—with a resolute stomp of her foot, knowing her—because guys like Bradley Bradshaw don’t really get girls flowers either, so clearly you don’t know guys like Bradley Bradshaw as well as you thought.

With nothing better to do, you decide you need to get out of your dorm—combat your hangover with some fresh air as you try to figure out what all of Bradley’s sudden new behaviors mean. You were positive he’d lose interest in you after last night, you can’t imagine dealing with you at your drunkest made you more attractive to him. And yet, not even a full 12 hours later, he’s thinking of you and leaving gifts to help you feel better because he seemingly noticed last night that the current Brita filter you have in your dorm is ass.

You throw one of Giselle’s old shirts over your head. Where does someone even get a daffodil anyway? Not on campus that’s for sure. Did that mean that Bradley had driven off campus to get you a flower? You have to shake off the thought before you end up squealing into your pillow like a middle schooler. Your head has learned its lesson that that’s not a fun time with a hangover.

Grabbing your phone and keys—and the bottle of water Bradley had gotten for you—you make your way out of your dorm and down the stairs. You don’t know why you’re even surprised to see Bradley outside your building. Only this time, he seems genuinely surprised to see you too.

For a moment, you feel like that one Spider-Man meme where they’re just pointing at each other. Except your Spider-Man is a scared, little, coward baby who’s five seconds from bolting back into her dorm building and Bradley’s Spider-Man has already recovered from the surprise of seeing you and is making his way over to where you’re standing.

Bradley looks pretty relaxed for a Sunday, dressed in a fairly light looking, green hoodie. From the depths of your memory, you can almost place it as the hoodie he wore last night. It looks soft, like it’s been through the wash a fair few times, and you can remember Bradley’s hoodie being soft against your cheek.

The hem of his chino pants stops a few inches above his white converse and you’re reminded again just how tall Bradley is. And big. Bradley is very big. Your eyes catch sight of the silver fraternity ring on his finger and you can almost feel the ghost of it against the back of your thigh from when he had carried you with one hand.

“Hey,” Bradley pulls you from your thoughts—which mainly consist of you screaming like a feral cat because you probably drooled on this man. Bradley laughs. “You didn’t drool on me, sunshine.”

You made jokes about moving away and changing your name, but now you mean it. You mean it more than you’ve meant anything in your life. You cannot believe you’re legally considered an adult—you can’t believe people trust you with the responsibility of voting! Because you just accidentally told Bradley Bradshaw—to his face—that you probably drooled on him.

Maybe it’s the hangover, but you can feel your 10 year old self throwing a dictionary at you.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you blurt finally, keeping your eyes trained on Bradley’s fraternity ring so as to not have to look him in the eye. “But, um, thank you for the water. And flower. And getting me home last night.”

Bradley shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “Figured you probably didn’t wanna go skinny dipping in front of a bunch of strangers.” You must look absolutely horrified because Bradley laughs again. “I’m kidding… sort of.” He grins cheekily and you decide that you don’t even want to know.

Besides, something far more pressing comes up in your mind and you finally look up at Bradley hesitantly. “You didn’t— You didn’t tell Giselle about… about what I told you, did you?”

Part of you assumes that Bradley didn’t, he and Giselle aren’t exactly the closest siblings. But he also isn’t that close with you and here he is asking you on dates and bringing you flowers, so your current perception of what’s true in the world of Bradley Bradshaw is a little up in the air.

“You might not remember, but you made me pinky promise,” Bradley teases, before he catches sight of how anxious you are. “I didn’t tell her.”

His words fill you with relief.

Giselle’s your best friend and you love her beyond belief, so you know that if she catches even a hint of hesitance from you, she’ll burn the whole world down to make you feel comfortable again. Which is the last thing you want. You don’t want Giselle to ever feel like she has to choose between you and Reuben—because she doesn’t. You like Reuben, and Mickey and Bob too. You just sometimes can’t help but feel like no one seems to like you.

But that’s not Giselle’s fault and you think you’d hate yourself if you ever made Giselle feel bad for being happy.

“Thanks,” you tell Bradley, and you mean it.

Bradley only nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. At this point the two of you have started walking—where, you’re not sure as you hadn’t even realized you left your dorm building. It’s quiet as you both enjoy the nice, late spring weather. The air smells like flowers and you like watching the birds swoop down to the green patches around campus.

“You don’t gotta worry about me telling my sister, sunshine, but you have to promise me something,” Bradley speaks up suddenly, stopping on the sidewalk to look at you. “Don’t do that shit again.”

You turn to him questioningly.

Bradley sighs. “I mean, don’t go around drinking random drinks, okay? It’s not safe. And Giselle told me that’s the most she’s seen you drink too. You didn’t know your tolerance and you didn’t know what you were even drinking— I don’t need to tell you why that’s fucking stupid.”

You look down like a scolded child. Because Bradley is right, it was stupid and, had you thought about it for a second longer, you probably wouldn’t have done it at all. But you felt so boring and you thought maybe you should loosen up like everyone secretly wishes you would. So you drank Reuben’s cup and you worried your friends because of it.

“You wanna try drinking something, you ask me,” Bradley continues, his index finger coming under your chin to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “And I’ll take care of it. But I don’t want you taking drinks from anybody else, okay?”

You swallow thickly, nodding against the pad of Bradley’s finger. “Okay.”

Bradley’s eyes dart between your own for a moment before he nods again, dropping his finger from your chin. There’s something unreadable in his expression, and it’s not scary but it is difficult to understand—like this is a side of Bradley you’ve never seen before. But that doesn’t make any sense because, these last few days, he’s been nothing but nice to you.

Whatever the look was washes off Bradley’s features quickly and he’s back to his usual soft smirk as he runs a hand through his hair. “So, where am I taking you, sunshine?”

You blink, looking around unsurely because you didn’t really have a plan of where you were going when you left your dorm. All you knew was that you needed to get some fresh air and get your mind off all things Bradley… Only one of those things is currently happening.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Giselle and Nat are at some cafe, so…” You trail off. You’re sure Bradley’s probably mildly aware that you don’t have many friends, but you don’t really feel like telling him that you can pretty much count them on one hand.

Instead of saying anything about it, Bradley just grins. “All I’m hearin’ is that means you’re mine for the day.”

Mine.

There’s an eruption of butterflies in your stomach at the word that you discreetly try to trample. Now is not the time to do something stupid—you’re still recovering from the last stupid thing you did. You chew on the inside of your lip to stop the heat rising to your cheeks, but it hardly helps.

“Is… Is that what it means?” All you can manage to do is echo Bradley dumbly.

“I’m telling you, sunshine, I’m a seasoned pro when it comes to mornings after,” Bradley smirks proudly and the two of you start walking again. “I’m about to make your hangover my bitch.”

You can’t stop the surprised giggle that spills from your lips. “What?”

When it’s been a moment and Bradley still has yet to respond, you turn to look at him. Weirdly, he’s already looking at you—that unreadable expression back on his face. You scrunch your nose a bit, brows furrowing.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nods finally, wetting his lips. “Yeah. I’m good.”

You nod, not wanting to push the topic when it’s clearly not a big deal. Besides, you don’t want to tell Bradley that you’ve been inadvertently studying his facial expressions for the last decade. That’s a level of embarrassing you’ve not reached yet. Instead, you let Bradley continue leading you wherever you guys are going—looking around, you realize that he’s taking you to your campus’s main hall.

“What have you eaten today, sunshine?” Bradley questions, holding the door open for you as you enter the ground floor of the large building.

You look up at him sheepishly, biting your lip. “Um… Water?”

Bradley gives you a look—and finally it’s one you can read - he looks entirely unimpressed with you and your lackluster self care habits. Between two of his large calloused fingers, he gives a strand of your hair a gentle tug.

“You wanna try that again? Water’s not on the food pyramid.”

“Yes it is,” you argue, snatching your hair from Bradley’s fingers and he gives you another look. “Yes it is! It’s off to the side. Like, there’s the plate and then a cup of water.”

As you’re saying all this, Bradley is ushering you up the stairs, looking at you in amusement as you try to defend yourself. “Oh, so it’s next to the food pyramid. As in, not on the food pyramid?”

Your mouth snaps shut, your defiance now dwindling, and you look down. “No,” you mutter.

“Right,” Bradley grins as you both take the last step to the second floor. The cafe is just to your left and, without having to speak about it, you and Bradley both stand next to each other in line. “Well, no caffeine for you, but I’ll get you a banana.” He looks down to the almost empty bottle of water in your hand as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket. “And another water.”

You don’t even bother hiding the fuzzy feeling that bubbles up in your stomach. And maybe you should have higher standards, you know what he’s doing isn’t exactly news worthy. Breaking News: Local White Man Makes Sure Girl Eats and Drinks. But you never in your wildest dreams thought that Bradley Bradshaw would care about your potassium intake. So you decide that it’s okay to be just a little excited.

You don’t say anything until Bradley is leading you out of Main Hall, your bottle of water and banana in hand as he finds an umbrella-ed table for you both to sit at. He’s gotten himself a blue raspberry Body Armor and all three of the items he bought are completely dwarfed in his left hand.

You swallow. “You didn’t have to pay for all that… Thank you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sunshine,” Bradley winks, opening your banana for you before handing it to you.

You take a bite from the yellow fruit, chewing slowly as Bradley sits down across from you, drinking his Body Armor. Unable to pull your eyes away from his bobbing Adam’s apple, you take another bite.

“How’s your hangover?” Bradley asks suddenly.

“Okay,” you admit once you’ve swallowed your bite of banana. “The water helped.”

Bradley nods and opens his mouth to say more when your phone ringer cuts him off. Looking down, you see Giselle’s contact photo. It’s a picture from your sophomore year of high school. Giselle was trying to recreate the Mamma Mia beach scene and got entirely wiped out by a wave. You managed to snap a somewhat unflattering photo of her drenched in water and pulling a face as she was trying to dry off.

You’re pretty sure that she should still be with Natasha, Mickey, and Reuben, and you can’t help but think the worst when you see that she’s calling. You look up at Bradley guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip. “I should probably take this.”

It only takes one look between you and your ringing phone for Bradley to nod. He gets up, securing the cap onto his drink and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Yeah, I should probably go anyway.” You know it’s ridiculous, but you can’t help but worry that it’s your awkward inability to communicate that’s making Bradley want to leave. Before you can process the thought more, Bradley’s looking at you sternly. “But you better finish that banana, sunshine.”

You give him a hasty nod and, before you can stop yourself, you’re holding your pinky out. Bradley wraps his around yours before you can pull it back. “Thank you— Thank you for lunch.”

You give Bradley another wave, watching him walk away as you finally answer your phone.

“Bitch! Reuben asked me to be his girlfriend!”

“Oh my god! Really?”

You feel awful about yourself for thinking it, but you can’t help but wish you ignored your phone and stayed with Bradley instead.

With finals wrapping up, Bradley’s getting antsy. It’s been a few days since his impromptu hangout with you. Honestly he had no ill intentions when he ran into you—he wasn’t even meaning to—but he had nothing better to do and Bradley knows an opportunity when he sees one. He didn’t entirely expect to like talking to you as much as he did, but he reasons that he’s excited because it means you’re getting closer to him. And the closer you get to him the more you’ll want to date him.

But he hasn’t seen you since and, if he can’t even get you to agree to be his girlfriend before the school year’s over, it's hardly a good sign for the length of your relationship. Logically, Bradley thinks this shouldn’t be this hard. It’s your first year of college. You’re still trying to chase that freshman cliche of “the college experience” that hasn’t lost its allure yet. And you don’t exactly have many friends, you should be jumping all over the chance to get with Bradley Bradshaw. And yet here he is buying you flowers, and taking you home, and getting excited about spending a single day with you. Bradley could almost applaud Makayla’s ability to fuck with him, but he knows that it was probably on accident.

Bradley’s already in a sour mood when students start filtering into Sigma Chi and they all already know to give him a wide berth. Jake laughs it off somewhat awkwardly and then everyone is distracted by him, rolling their eyes at his over-fascination in the stock market. Bradley just gets up with a huff, making his way into an emptier room of the house.

He doesn’t even feel in the mood to drink, nor look for Makayla—for the first time in almost three years, he’s not even sure she’s here. Instead, Bradley’s grumbling because he can see the backyard through the window and catches sight of you throwing your head back with laughter by the fire pit. Bradley’s never made you laugh at that, even when he has made you laugh it’s a giggle at most, and he knows for a fact that Bob Floyd can’t be that funny. He just doesn't get it.

“Can I talk to you?”

Bradley turns around to see his sister looking at him curiously, a red solo cup in her hand as she stands in the threshold of the room. He suppresses an eye roll, reminding himself that he needs to stay on his sister’s good side if he wants any of this to work. Instead he nods silently, prompting her to continue.

Giselle takes in a breath. “I’m stepping aside.”

Bradley’s brows furrow as he racks his brain for what his sister is talking about. Giselle looks slightly pained as she stands in front of him, the grimace on her face clearly evident even though she’s trying to hide it. Bradley squints his eyes slightly.

“What?”

“I’m—” Giselle lets out a huff at the fact she has to elaborate. “If you really want to, I am giving you permission to go out with my best friend.”

Bradley blinks.

“I mean, I thought for sure you’d fuck up, but— You haven’t even tried anything with another girl for the past two and a half weeks. Really, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.” Giselle runs a hand of disbelief through her hair.

Bradley can’t believe this either. It’s like everything in the universe is somehow perfectly aligning in order to make sure he dates Makayla. While he first saw it as a negative, you being Giselle’s best friend means that he’s guaranteed to have you with him for the whole summer. It’s a lot easier to keep a girlfriend when she’s two doors over. And while he thought Giselle herself would be an obstacle, somehow he’s gained her approval without even trying.

Her words hit him for a second time and Bradley pauses. Had he really not talked to any other girls since pursuing you? Even with Makayla, Bradley had no issue playing the field—it’s the main reason he’s doing this in the first place—he hardly went a single party before flirting with someone else. Bradley reasons that he’s been so focused on planning his “perfect boyfriend” routine that he hasn’t even had time to think of other girls. And the impromptu celibacy ended up working in his favor in the end, with Giselle finally giving her blessing because of it.

With his confidence renewed, Bradley readies himself with another interaction with you. He had to do something sweet first. A “be a boyfriend before he is a boyfriend” kind of thing. Something that makes you think he’s thoughtful. Girls like that.

Bradley turns back to look at you and sees you get up from where you’re chatting with Bob at the fire pit. This is his chance. Something halts his feet though as he catches sight of his sister again and he hesitates before asking, “When did you know?”

“What?” Giselle doesn’t seem to follow.

“You said I have this look. When I like a girl,” Bradley explains. For some reason he needs to know the answer to this. “When did I do it?”

Giselle looks up at him for a moment, before turning around with a teasing smile. “Bye, Bradley.”

“The drinks are in the kitchen.”

You look up from where you’re fishing through the ice cooler to see Landon Jahney staring down at you, a beer bottle in his hand that he’s guzzling lazily as he looks at you. You smile somewhat nervously.

“I know, I was just looking for a Sprite,” you clear your throat so your voice comes out stronger.

It’s not often that you’re made to feel bad about the fact that you don’t really drink. Most of the time, people just shrug it off and move on with their lives, not all that invested in how much alcohol you consume. You’re grateful for that too. You know your friends like drinking—Mickey and Reuben especially—but they’ve never made you feel bad for the fact that you prefer a carbonated soda over a Whiteclaw.

Assuming Landon will be the same, you turn back to the cooler. You’d have to let someone in Sigma Chi know that their Sprite supply is severely lacking. As you continue pushing through the melting ice, you realize that Landon has yet to leave.

He holds his beer out. “You can have some of mine.”

“Oh, no thank you, I don’t drink—”

“You don’t drink?” Landon almost scoffs in disbelief. “You’re friends with Mickey Garica and you don’t drink?”

You try not to flinch at his accusing tone, eyes flitting around to find any one of your friends. Landon’s certainly not drunk, but he is a bit buzzed, and maybe that’s why he’s failing to read the clear signals you’re giving off. Because you don’t want to drink a beer, especially not his, you want to drink a Sprite. And you promised Bradley you wouldn’t do something stupid like that again—which is a promise you intend to keep. The remembrance of Bradley helps you calm down a bit. Regardless of how inebriated Landon is, you’re positive he would back off at the threat of angering Sigma Chi president Bradley Bradshaw.

Landon holds his beer out again and some of it sloshes onto the skirt of your dress. “Just have a sip—”

You let out a startled yelp when an arm wraps around your middle and lifts you from where you're squatting in front of the cooler. Your back presses into a tautened chest and you look up to see the underside of Bradley’s clenched jaw. He’s glaring at Landon with a hardly subdued fury, holding you firmly to him as a wordless warning.

Without looking away from Landon, Bradley puts a can of Sprite in your hand. “There a problem?”

“Nah, man,” Landon pulls his beer back and you watch as his throat bobs nervously. “I was just trying to help her find something to drink, that’s all.”

Bradley nods stiffly and Landon looks like he’s trying to figure out the fastest way out of the Sigma Chi backyard—and perhaps your college campus all together. Your eyes feel like ping pong balls darting between the two.

Bradley nods his head to the Sprite in your hand. “I got it covered.” There’s a finality in his words that has Landon nodding hastily, relieved that the conversation is ending without Bradley’s fist against his face.

“No, yeah, I— Totally,” Landon fumbles over his words as he agrees with the older boy.

It’s quiet for just a second longer, before Landon makes his smartest decision of the night and decides to walk away. His feet pivot in the grass in attempts to slow himself down so he doesn’t just entirely tuck tail and run. He only makes it a few steps before Bradley calls out to him again.

“Hey, Jahney?” It isn’t until Landon faces him completely that Bradley continues, his grip around your middle tightening. “You offer my girl alcohol again, we’re gonna have some problems, got it?”

You think Landon’s head might fall off with how fast he’s nodding. “G-got it.”

It isn’t until Landon’s out of sight that Bradley’s grip on you relaxes and you glance up at him hesitantly. His eyes are still hard, trained on the back of Landon’s head and you’ve never really understood the saying “if looks could kill” until now. You look down at the cold can of Sprite in your hand.

“Thank you.”

Bradley nods wordlessly, gently ushering you to a more private part of the backyard. You don’t know why, but, even though Bradley was the person to tell you not to drink, you feel the need to defend yourself. You’re not an idiot, while you’ve personally never really seen Bradley drunk before, it’d be stupid to assume that he didn’t drink at all. Clearly he does and, given the circles he runs in, so do most of the girls he likes too.

“It’s— It’s not— I can drink, I just don’t really like it,” you try to explain as he leads you to the porch swing in a quiet corner of the backyard. “Also I’m 19. Like, I’m not even supposed to drink, if you think about it— Not that I think I’m better than anyone! I don’t think that I’m better than anybody for not drinking, I promise. I mean, you know what happens when I get drunk. I just—”

The large, calloused hand that cups your cheek causes the words to die in your throat and you finally look up to see Bradley watching you bemusedly. “Sunshine.” You can hear the smile he’s biting back. “I don’t care.”

You deflate a little, embarrassment heating your cheeks. “Right.”

“No—fuck—I mean—” Bradley drops his hand from your cheek with a wince. “Why should I care if you drink or not? It doesn’t matter. Like, it doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah ‘oh’. Now drink your Sprite,” Bradley juts his chin at the can in your hand.

You open the tab with a satisfying click, taking a small sip of your favorite lemon lime soda. Both you and Bradley are standing in front of the porch swing, out of sight from most of the party guests but still able to get a pretty good view of them. You notice that Landon seems to have moved inside.

Another sip of Sprite slides down your throat and you shoot a glance back at Bradley. He’s fiddling with the backwards hat on his head, arms stretched so his shirt rides up enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. You have to force yourself to take another sip of your soda to pull your eyes away.

“How’s—” You clear your throat. “How’s football?”

Bradley looks mildly amused. “You really wanna know?”

Truthfully, you don’t. You barely know anything about the sport, so you’re sure you wouldn't even understand what he’s saying. But it was the first thing you could think of and it’s not like standing in silence would have been any better.

“Well, I just… I know you started playing quarterback this year. And that’s a big deal, right?”

What ever teasing Bradley had in store for you seems to die on his tongue and he almost looks surprised. He cocks his head slightly, looking at you almost intensely, before shaking it.

“I guess, yeah,” Bradley says finally.

It falls to silence again—the very thing you were hoping to avoid. You nod awkwardly. “Well, congratulations.

“The season’s almost over, sunshine.” That finally gets Bradley to laugh. And maybe you’ve made a fool of yourself, once again, but at least you aren’t being suffocated by awkward tension anymore. “But thank you… I appreciate it.”

That lopsided smile you’ve only seen a couple times makes an appearance on Bradley’s face. Of all his expressions, you think that smile is your favorite. It’s not quite as sharp or charming as his smirks—like he’s trying to convince you that he’s those things. But his smile is softer and unintentional. Bradley’s smile doesn’t try to convince you of anything, it just is.

“Are you excited for the end of the year?” Bradley’s question pulls you from your thoughts and you hope you haven’t been staring at his mouth this entire time.

You take another sip of your soda. “I am. I think Giselle’s got the whole summer planned.”

“Damn.” Bradley lets out a light whistle as he sags overdramatically. “How am I supposed to take you on dates and life changing romantic experiences if my sister is hogging you the whole summer?”

You hide your laughter with your hand. “Was that what you were planning on doing this summer? Not, like, golf with Jake and Javy?”

Bradley wrinkles his nose as an answer and you can’t help but giggle again.

“Alright, maybe when Giselle’s busy getting lost in Reuben’s eyes, I’ll sneak off and find you,” you joke, eyes darting over to your best friend to confirm that she’s doing just that. When you turn back, Bradley’s just looking at you, and it hits you suddenly that he’s been staying here with you and your Sprite for a fair amount of time by this point.

“You can— You can go back to the party if you want,” you offer. You doubt Bradley planned on babysitting you—again—and you don’t want him to think that he has to. You didn’t even know there was a porch swing at the Sigma Chi house, so, really, you’re set.

Bradley glances at you. “I’m right where I wanna be, sunshine.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips slowly, averting your eyes to scan the various college students littering the backyard. Giselle and Reuben are curled up on a lawn sofa, all too lost in each other, and for once, there isn’t that slight, underlying sting you usually feel when you smile at the sight. Mickey and Natasha are laughing at each other while they play cornhole. Bob is chatting with some girl you vaguely recognize from one of your classes, a genuine smile on his face. And you’re standing next to Bradley Bradshaw, drinking a Sprite that he got for you unprompted. “I think… I think I am too.”

You can’t look at Bradley when you say it, so you’re unsure what his reaction is, but suddenly his arm is brushing against yours as he leans on the patio railing next to you. You turn to watch his profile as he wets his lips slowly. “You know, I promised you something else that night.”

The night in question—the night Bradley took you back to your dorm—comes to the forefront of your mind and you furrow your brows. He promised you something else? For the life of you, you can’t figure out what. You remember him promising not to tell Giselle about your confession. You can remember him trying to comfort you—

It hits you suddenly and you know Bradley can tell because, when you whip your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. There’s something almost restrained in his features, his pupils dilated as he stares down at you, his swallows practically audible.

Slowly, one of his hands comes up to your cheek, his head dropping as his other hand finds purchase on your hip. You’ve only been kissed by two boys in your life—and both had been mediocre experiences. Your first kiss was just embarrassing, you didn’t know what to do and you’d just met the boy at your first high school party. At the time, you just wanted to get it over with. You didn’t want to be the only freshman that hadn’t kissed anyone yet.

And it certainly didn’t help that Bradley had just gotten his driver’s license and suddenly more girls wanted to kiss him than ever before. So you kissed your dreams of Bradley Bradshaw being your first kiss goodbye—quite literally—and settled for Michael Prescot instead. It had been wet, and weird, and embarrassing, and you never saw Michael again.

Your second kiss was somehow worse. You kissed Elliot Carver in his car after a date because you didn’t know what else to do and then he tried to pull you over the center console and onto his lap because apparently that’s what happens after kissing. When you stopped him from doing so, he made up some flimsy excuse that he had to leave and you were stuck waiting in a parking lot listening to Taylor Swift until Giselle picked you up.

But neither Michael nor Elliot cupped your face as gently as Bradley is, only the weight of his hand feels familiar on your hip. Your head tilts up as Bradley gets closer, eyes fluttering closed, and then his lips are on yours. And part of you freaks out—because you really aren’t a great kisser—but Bradley almost seems to swallow the hesitation, moving his lips slowly against yours as he coaxes you out of your nerves.

You hardly even register your Sprite can dropping to the wooden porch and rolling onto the grass, the clear liquid spilling out onto the green blades, as your hands wrap tentatively around Bradley’s neck. Your nose nudges against his cheek, breathing in the sandalwood scent of his cologne, as your fingers find the base of his hairline under his ball cap. A sudden hunger takes over Bradley at the action and he pulls you closer to him by your hip, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth further when you gasp in surprise.

Michael and Elliot had always made you feel like you were a bad kisser. You hardly moved at either time and, during the time you were kissing them, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be done soon. But in kissing Bradley, you realize that it’s not that you’re a bad kisser, you just didn’t like Michael or Elliot. Kissing them was awkward and uncomfortable because being with them was awkward and uncomfortable. But you like Bradley. You like kissing Bradley.

Which is why you can’t help but chase his lips slightly when he pulls away, lifting onto your tiptoes though that hardly helps you reach him. Bradley chuckles quietly, wiping some of his saliva from your bottom lip and your eyes flutter open.

“You still gonna make me ask, baby?” His voice comes out raspy and you have to suppress the shivers it elicits from you.

You give Bradley a small nod, unable to do anything but look up at him through your lashes.

He grins, his thumb still tracing your lip as his own lip rolls through his teeth slowly.

“Will you be my girlfriend, sunshine?”

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lcahwriter · 2 years

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Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Reader (non- descriptive, no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: mentions of death, sex (not smut, but still some sex) , 18+ please!

Summary:

You have to tell Bradley to stop during sex - because your mind is plagued with images of him not coming home.

Comfort ensues.

Authors Note: Short angst/ comfort that I couldn’t get out of my head🥺 Hope you enjoy💗 As always comments are appreciated 💗

Sex with Bradley was always full of desire and undeniable warmth.

When the sex was soft and slow it was full of lingering touches on naked skin, and shivers of unadulterated pleasure.

When the sex was rough and fast it was enveloped with tantalizing kisses and desperate touches.

When you made love, nothing else mattered. His touch was enough to distract you from reality- enough to ease your pain on your worst days.

But tonight, nothing was enough to distract you from the anxiety and deep dread you felt.

You thought sex would help your aching heart - it had always mended it before.

But Bradley was on top of you now, kissing your neck sweetly- and your mind was somewhere else.

Your brain was betraying you with horrific images.

Bradley’s lifeless body floating somewhere in the ocean completely alone- never to be recovered.

You crying over an empty coffin, realizing that your love is gone and that you’re completely alone.

You couldn’t save him - you had no control.

“Love you so much.” Bradley murmured in your ear softly, continuing his kissing on your chest and jaw.

His voice brought you back to reality.

Shivers of pleasure rippled up your spine as his arm slipped under your back, pulling your breasts flesh against his naked chest.

You looked into his deep honey eyes, cherishing them - alive, full of desire - love.

You hastily attacked his lips with yours, pulling yourself even closer to his body. Your arms were wrapped around his back, gripping onto him tightly, like if you let go you’d lose him forever.

Your bodies rocked against each others, kissing with undeniable passion - both knowing Bradley wouldn’t be here in a weeks time.

His large hand slowly lifted your thigh to the side. His warm dick nudged your entrance , causing pleasure to roll through you.

You wanted him - you needed to feel the love he had to give. You craved the feeling of him inside you.

The feeling of him being completely yours , and you being completely his.

His head fell into your shoulder as he thrusted into you slowly, but deeply. Your toes tingled with pleasure, and you relaxed at the familiar fullness you felt.

You wanted to be like this forever with him- never thinking of death or pain. In complete bliss.

Without warning, images of Bradley’s lifeless body filled your brain.

And they wouldn’t cease.

Your heart thudded with anxiety, rather than pleasure. And your throat grew a heavy lump, and you felt sobs threatening to rise.

Dead. He would die on this mission.

And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Lifeless eyes.

No more of his smiles, singing or laughing.

Just death - all for nothing.

Bradley’s pace picked up, but pleasure was no longer building in you.

You were too far removed from reality - in the worst way.

“Baby.” You croaked out. Your hands were still gripping Bradley’s naked back, and your cheek was pressed into his chest.

“Yeah?” His voice panted out softly, his thrusts slowing down slightly.

Your body betrayed you, and you started to tremble. Everything was too much - the anxiety - the sadness - even Bradley’s touch.

“Stop please.” You whispered, as a cry came crawling up your throat.

It was the first time you’d ever asked him to stop - and you felt shame mixed with fear bubble in you. But you were too overwhelmed to care.

He pulled out of you instantly, his body off of you as soon as he processed your words.

You let go of him and let yourself fall back onto the pillows. Your vision was blurry and your chest was heaving with emotion.

“Fuck - baby - baby what’s wrong?” Bradley’s voice was panicked. His body was leaning over yours, his arms on either side of your body.

His dick was still hard with arousal, but the only thing he was focused on was you , and the fact that your breaths were getting shorter and shorter.

“Did I - did I hurt you?” He asked, and you watched as his eyes roamed your body in worry.

You shook your head at him and reached for his touch.

He quickly moved to lay next to you, longing to hold you close to him and to make whatever was hurting you, go away.

You instantly crawled on-top of his bare chest and wrapped your arms around him. His large hands rubbed your back softly as you cried.

“I’m sorry.” You croaked out inbetween sickening cries.

You shut your eyes harshly and gritted your teeth, willing yourself to calm down, to stop being so emotional. But everything was still too much.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.” Bradley reassured softly in your ear. His deep voice rumbled his chest, brining you some comfort.

“I’m sorry - I - I wanted to finish , I just got overwhelmed.” You tried to calm your cries, but it only half worked. Because your voice was still raw and tears were still pooling on Bradley’s chest.

“Shh , it’s alright. You can always ask me to stop baby.” His voice brought a steadiness to you - and just as a pleasant feeling appeared- anxiety washed over you again.

You could lose him. This could be the last time.

You gulped and clenched your jaw shut, pushing down the large sobs beneath.

“I kept thinking of you dead.” You choked on a sob. His body stiffened beneath you, and you felt his arms still on your back.

“Your jet kept getting shot down - and they could never find your body. But I could see it - I could see it in my head Bradley.”

The same fear and heartbreak you’d been feeling tore through you again. You winced as the same image of his lifeless body flashed in your head.

You squeaked in surprise as Bradley rolled you off of him. He laid on his side and tucked you deep into his chest, hugging you close. His legs were tangled between yours carefully.

“I’m right here.” His lips brushed against your ear. You felt the weight his chin rest on-top of your head.

“I know it’s scary. I’m scared too.” You felt the shaky breath he let out against your hair.

“But I promise I’ll do everything I can to come home to you.” He kissed your soft hair and you clenched your eyes shut.

He couldn’t promise you he would come home, he could only promise he would try his best to make it back.

And that tore you up inside - no, it did more than that. The fear of losing him ripped you open and spun you around until it made you vomit.

“Please come home.” You knew your voice sounded completely raw - and fucking terrified.

You wished you could be stronger, wished you could hold it together until he left your doorstep.

But it was all too much.

“I’ll come home to you.” His voice was determined and rough. His arms gripped around you and you nuzzled into him.

You nodded, trying to pretend that his answer meant he really would come home.

You both laid there in silence, holding each other , taking comfort from one another.

You exchanged soft kisses, unsure of whether they were out of lust or sadness.

You thought of earlier - when he was deep inside you. And you had been in another world.

Guilt gripped you, overpowering the sadness you’d been feeling.

You slowly pulled from Bradley, looking up into his soft eyes.

“I’m sorry for earlier - I - I was enjoying it I just- I was somewhere else.” You gnawed at your bottom lip with anxiety.

Bradley was shaking his head at you before you could continue.

“I always want you stop me if you aren’t fully with me, okay?” His eyes yes searched yours as he brushed his thumb against your cheek.

You nodded and raised your eyes to him.

He was the sweetest man you’d ever known. And that’s why you didn’t want to lose him - why you couldn’t lose him.

“I love you.” It came out as a whisper, but it might as well have been a declaration. Because you had never loved something as much as you loved him.

“I love you.” He echoed back to you softly.

You thought you saw tears in his eyes, but he pulled you into his chest before you could watch them fall.

You both fell asleep to the steady breathing of each other, dreaming of a day where fear wouldn’t fill either of your dreams.

#bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley bradshaw angst #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #Bradley rooster bradshaw angst #Bradley bradshaw comfort

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Text

The Night Moves | Part Five

The Night Moves Masterlist

Alternate Universe

Vampire Hunterl!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussion of Violence, Blood, Discussion of Serious Reader Injury, Hospitals, Psychiatrists, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [fingering, hand job, oral sex, protected sex] - 18+ Only

Author's Note: Late update is VERY LATE. I am extremely sorry, but here is the final chapter! Thank you very much for your patience!

Word Count: 4671

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-Saturday-

The faint murmur of activity – a medley of rustling paper, footsteps, low voices, and a distantly ringing phone – greeted your return to consciousness. Blinking reluctant and blurry eyes open to the sight of a private room in some emergency department, you swallowed dryly as your eyes took in the sterile surroundings. The crimson blood flowing from the bag marked ‘O–’ through clear tubing into the I.V. buried in the back of your hand, the worn hospital gown that had replaced your borrowed dress, the flannel hospital blanket draped over your lower body, the scratch of the nasal cannula as it delivered extra oxygen, the claustrophobic feeling of the pulse oximeter on your index finger.

The large man perched on the chair beside your hospital bed flipping through your notebook.

You still felt weak, improved since the last time you had been awake, but by no means yourself just yet. However, it seemed that Bradley Bradshaw had delivered you into the hands of medical professionals in time to save you from your bad decisions. Your gaze remained snagged on his hands as they cradled the pages of your frantic scribblings and you stared silently. You were aware that you really ought to speak, to confirm your return to the land of the living, but you were truly uncertain where to begin. An apology? An explanation? An expression of gratitude? An inquiry about how he had found you?

He saved you the trouble of making that decision by speaking first.

“The man in this story died the night they changed him.” He murmured without raising his head, making you jump and look to your own hands quickly.

“How…how did you find me…” You croaked out, summoning your language skills at last.

“When you didn’t come out of that party, the one you maybe forgot to tell me about, with your coworker, I got worried. Unfortunately, I had to resort to more mundane methods such as showing your picture around and bribing the front desk clerk. It took a lot of time. A story about my cousin entangled in some sordid situation proved quite effective once I found the right hotel.” Bradley explained without looking up before lifting his phone to snap a photo of the last page in your notebook.

You crinkled your brows in confusion just as a burning itch erupted from the flesh of your inner thigh and your hand shot reflexively beneath the blanket only to find a bandage covering your target. “Fuck why are they so damn itchy.” You hissed and screwed your eyes shut, shifting back to grip the rails of the bed in an attempt to distract yourself.

“There was effectively a man-sized mosquito between your thighs; it’s the enzymes from his saliva.” He replied, snapping your notebook shut firmly.

The sharpness of his words, punctuated by the sound of the pages colliding together firmly, flooded your eyes with tears. “Bradley I…I’m so sorry.” Your voice wobbled treacherously as the tears gathered at your lash line before spilling down your cheeks.

You watched, features painted with the guilt that wracked your body, as he rose to his feet with a sigh, grabbing your bag from a hook on the wall and sliding the book inside. He grabbed his jacket from the hook beside it and slung it onto his shoulders in a fluid, practiced movement.

“You were in his thrall.” He replied, at last, with a shake of his head, looking in your general direction but not at you. The statement was delivered flatly, almost clinical. “Glad you’re awake now, and safe.”

“Safe…” You exhaled, not really certain you believed it to be quite so simple. “But he…bit me I’m not…going to become a. A…” for some reason you were incapable of speaking the word. “…like him?”

His eyes narrowed, hands planting on his hips as he addressed your right shoulder. “Did he feed you his blood?”

“No. No he didn’t.” You replied quickly, shaking your head.

“Then it won’t happen.” He nodded, posture relaxing. “I told the staff it was a kink thing gone wrong. The police have Jacob’s description and his coat from your hotel room. Take care.”

You blinked, swallowing tightly. “You’re leaving.” Your voice felt strangled in your throat as you finally processed his actions.

“Job’s done.” He nodded, finally meeting your eyes with a breathtakingly fragile gaze for a fraction of a second before turning to stride out of the room.

A faint noise of protest fell from your lips, and you tried to extract yourself from the blanket, only to find yourself hopelessly tangled in tubes and wires. Your nurse Camille, who was already making her way to the room to check on you, hustled the last few steps to push you back into bed, gently chastising you for trying to get up. Effectively thwarting any attempt you might have made at stopping Bradley Bradshaw from walking out of your life.

You spent the rest of that night in the hospital, unable to stem the steady flow of tears from your eyes as, after being reunited with your phone, your calls and texts to what was once Bradley’s number went unanswered. You received two blood transfusions and a referral to a psychologist for all that you had gotten entangled with. From their perspective, the police believed you had been assaulted by a murder suspect carrying the coat of one of his many victims, before leaving you for dead in a hotel room. It was only thanks to the heroic efforts of your now-absent cousin that you had survived said encounter. Knowing it would come to nothing, you provided them with Jacob’s full name and description, fully aware that it would be impossible for them to locate a vampire who was now a pile of dust.

You felt utterly absurd when you were discharged the next morning, stepping out into the weak autumn sunshine in a floor-length gown and ruined make-up. Mercifully, the cab driver was more focused on arguing with the person on the other end of their phone call and only paid attention to your destination and the hefty fare you owed him. At least your hospital bill had been paid – yet another thing you owed the departed Bradley Bradshaw and his mysterious community of vampire hunters.

The rest of the day was miserable, spent in bed after a careful shower, eating packaged soup from your cupboard. The next day was slightly better. Each day that passed thereafter was somewhat less painful than the one before. You attended your weekly appointments with the psychologist begrudgingly at first but gradually found them a rather useful outlet to process all that you had endured. After nearly a month, you gathered the courage to open the notebook once more.

It was then that the topic of your doctoral thesis came to you, something you had been trying to determine for several months by that point. The proposal to study the ledger found with the still-missing missing remains of an ‘unknown continental soldier’ was very well received by both your faculty advisor and your supervisor at the Smithsonian. It provided a goal, a focus, a purpose that only added to your forward momentum. Eventually you stopped counting the days from when Bradley left, allowing time to simply pass according to the calendar on the wall as it always had.

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-Mid December-

The first snowfall of the year had begun the night before and you had opened the blinds to a world cloaked in white. It was hard to deny the festive feeling it awoke within you, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked out over the courtyard. Donning your winter coat, brand new scarf, and a pair of mittens, you headed across the main road. When picking up your groceries a few days ago, you had noticed the outdoor planters of spruce, cedar, birch branches, and pinecones they had for sale. And with the change in the weather, you could not help but think one would be the perfect seasonal addition to your balcony.

The selection was significantly reduced since the last time you had been at the store, but you were still able to purchase an attractive option. With your task accomplished, you made your way back towards the apartment complex, unable to stop your grin at the sound of the accumulated snow scrunching beneath your boots as fresh fluffy flakes had begun to swirl through the air once more. Hefting the planter higher against your body, you were grateful it was not much further to your building as your arms began to ache. But the sight of Bradley Bradshaw leaning against the back of his Bronco parked beside the door to your building had your grip on it faltering.

“Bradley?” You breathed in confusion, hugging the fragrant arrangement closer to your body as you walked closer to him slowly.

He straightened to his full height, tugging at his suede jacket as he murmured your name in greeting. The dusting of snow that had gathered on his shoulders scattered to the ground. “I… Uh just wanted to stop by and make sure you were doing ok.” He shuffled his feet slightly, the tips of his ears and nose nipped pink by the cold.

The rasp of his voice made you gulp as you had so diligently made your peace with the fact that you would never see him again and yet here he was, freezing his extremities off in your parking lot. “Come inside, I’ll make you a hot drink to warm up.” You swallowed – it was the least you could do after all that he had done for you.

He looked you over a moment, considering, until you shifted the heavy planter in your grip once more. He stepped forward and took it from you carefully, nodding. “Ok…yeah.”

Relinquishing your burden gratefully, you smiled a little at his acceptance before leading him inside, brushing the snow from your hair and jacket before stepping into your apartment. Kicking off your boots, you guided him over the sliding doors, reaching to take the planter from his hands to set out on the balcony. The scent of sandalwood still clung to him, as it had the first night you had quite literally run into him, and it frankly made your mouth water. You tugged the arrangement from his hands and dashed out onto the cold concrete in your sock- feet to set it down, desperate to regain control of your senses.

Hurrying back inside, you brushed past him on your way to the kitchen to fill your electric kettle with water from the tap, flicking the switch to set it to boil. You could feel him standing behind you, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of a dining chair. Your mind was groping wildly for something, anything to say, taking you right back to that Saturday morning when you awoken in a hospital bed. But no words seemed to sufficiently encapsulate everything you were feeling in that moment. The gratitude for all that he had done to protect you, to keep you alive. The regret for your actions when under Jacob’s thrall. But most importantly, everything that you felt for Bradley himself.

Inhaling sharply through your nose you turned towards him, swallowing thickly as he was a lot closer than you had assumed. Steeling your nerve, you stepped forward and grasped his face in both hands, pressing your lips to his firmly, finding it easier to express things this way rather than with unreliable words. For a few heart-stopping seconds there was no response. Bradley simply stood there, still as a statue. You were about to draw back, concerned you had made a horrible mistake, when his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Delight and warmth flooded through you, making you gasp softly.

Taking advantage of your parted lips, his tongue licked into your mouth teasingly. Pressing closer, you slid your arms around his neck, delving your fingers into his hair. He backed you up against the counter, a rumble of pleasure erupting from his throat as his grip tightened around you, his kiss turning fierce. Emboldened, you tugged at his curls, earning a growl as he dug his fingers into your hips and hoisted you against his body, wrapping your legs around his hips before blindly shuffling his away out of the kitchen and down the hall towards your bedroom.

Shifting your lips to trail down along the scars on his cheek to his jaw, you allowed him the use of his eyes in the hopes of preventing bruises on either of your bodies. Setting you on the duvet, he smoothed your hair from your face tenderly before reaching for the hem of your shirt, tilting his head in silent question. You nodded and raised your arms, allowing him to peel the garment from your body before he tossed it in the general direction of the bench at the end of your bed.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart…” He rasped and surged forward to seize your lips in a heated kiss once more, pressing you back into the bed beneath him.

Your hands fisted in the front of his plaid shirt, heart fairly exploding beneath your ribcage as that nickname reached your ears. Frantically, your fingers your fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to run your hands along the warmth of his skin. Under the onslaught of his mouth against yours, however, your progress proved painfully slow, and after only a few buttons were undone he grew impatient, sitting back on his heels to remove the offending fabric before immediately latching his lips to your neck.

Arching your back to eagerly bare more of your flesh to him, you moaned softly as your hands glided along his skin, happily claiming your prize. He sighed warmly as he settled between your thighs, and you gripped his hips tightly with your legs, pulling him closer. His hips instinctively rocked into yours, your fingers curling into his muscled shoulders as you mewled in response. Mouth covering yours once more, Bradley kissed you hungrily as he rutted his hardening length against the seam of your pants. It was a mixture of bliss and pure torture that had you writhing beneath him, desperate to be rid of the barriers between you.

He eased your torment as his right hand slid over the cup of your bra, the heat of his palm seeping through the fabric as he manipulated your tender flesh, making you press into his touch greedily. Sitting back on his heels once more, you whimpered in protest at the rush of cold air that replaced his body heat. He merely smirked in response, hands slipping beneath your back to unfasten your bra before stripping it from your body as well. His warm, wet mouth quickly covered one nipple while his palm tended to the other, goose bumps rippling across your skin as your hands tugged at his curls with another eager groan.

Insistently, you rocked your hips up against his, shuddering as his answering groan echoed through your chest. His hand moved to work at the fastening of your pants before they were tugged off your body to join the growing pile of clothes.

You worried your lower lip between your teeth, engaged in your own struggle with the fly of his jeans.

He tsked his tongue against his teeth before running it along his bottom lip as he watched you before his eyes honed in on the last article of clothing hiding you from his sight. “Don’t hurt yourself…” He rumbled, one hand planting beside your head to lean in and pull your lower lip between his lips to soothe it as he cupped you over your panties.

Bucking your hips needily, you yanked on his zipper before your hand dove past the waistband to press against his erection through the thin barrier of his boxers.

“Fuck.” He grunted against your lips, fingertips pressing the fabric of your underwear against your clit, dragging it across the sensitive bundle of nerves as he moved his digits in a circular motion that made it very difficult to keep your eyes open.

“Bradley…” You panted, doing your best to match his pace with your own hand, to respond to every bit of pleasure in kind.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He grinned, the moustache adorning his upper lip only amplifying the confident slant of his mouth.

“Mm! More.” You insisted, arching as he alternated the pressure against your clit.

A quick, firm kiss was his response before he pulled back to remove the last few items of clothing from your bodies. You smiled warmly before wrapping your fingers around his cock in gratitude. You swallowed thickly at the way his breath picked up, and the muscles of his abdomen fluttered in response. Frustratingly, he began to slide back off the side of the bed, out of your reach as he tugged you closer to drape your legs over his shoulders.

Pressing alternating kisses to the inside of your legs, he began to ascend higher up your calves to your thighs before he paused at the two raised marks left from your final encounter with Jacob. You tensed, afraid to exhale, afraid of what he was thinking as he was confronted with a physical reminder of all that had transpired. The feel of his soft lips pressing against your scars, contrasted by the bristling of his moustache against the skin above, had you exhaling slowly, eyelids sliding shut in relief as a few tears seeped from the corners of your eyes and down along your temples.

Forgiveness.

Following the movement quickly with the heat of his tongue stroking against that same patch of flesh, Bradley had your hips levitating with not-so-subtle guidance towards where you were aching for his attention. He hummed in sympathy, settling between your thighs properly as he draped his forearm across your pelvis to still your squirming body before his tongue delved between your folds.

“Fuck…” It was your turn to curse as the breath shuddered from your lungs.

Knees hooked over his shoulders, you pressed your heels into his back, greedily pressing him closer as he used his lips and tongue with purpose. Latching onto your clit with gentle sucking pressure, Bradley eased his index finger into your slick warmth.

“Ahn!” You cried out, bucking against his hold as you fisted the duvet viciously.

Forcing your heavy eyelids open, you licked your lips at the sight of his dark eyes watching you hungrily, your legs framing his face. He grinned against you, eyes crinkling at the corners, and paused a moment to pull one of your hands from the duvet to plant your grasping fingers on his head. Threading your fingers into the chestnut strands, you shuddered as he slid a second finger in to join the first, tightening your grip on him. He groaned against you, the sound reverberating through your body and making you clench around his digits.

“Bradley!” You whimpered and undulated your hips against his face, eliciting another growl from the man.

The cycle was endless, the reactions you each pulled from one another increasing in intensity until you were quivering on the precipice of climax. The stretch of the addition of his third finger was all it took to send you soaring over the edge, thighs clutching the sides of his face as you wailed in pleasure. He pulled back from your clit to avoid overstimulation, focusing on working his fingers inside you and devouring your release hungrily, surfacing only once your heaving breaths began to even out.

You looked to him with glassy eyes, swallowing tightly at the flush of his cheeks, the remainder of your slick on his mustache. Using the hand still firmly burrowed in his hair, you tugged him closer to kiss him deeply, shivering at the taste of yourself on his tongue. The press of his length, thick and heavy against your thigh brought with it renewed clarity.

Shifting to press your skin against his eager flesh teasingly, he shuddered hungrily, pulling back to murmur against your lips, “just a sec…” before sliding from the bed to rummage through his discarded jeans. Returning quickly, your nipples pebbled in the cool air left in absence, your eyes flickered to the reflective foil square in his hand.

Grinning fondly, you pushed yourself up to sitting, snatching it from his fingers and carefully tearing it open. Taking the opportunity to wrap your fingers around his cock, you stroked along him teasingly, reveling in the way he pressed his mouth against your temple, hot breaths fanning across your face as his fingers gripped your shoulders tightly. Growing desperate to feel him inside you, you methodically rolled the latex down his length before gasping as he dropped one hand to grasp your hip and bodily move you to lay against the pillows. You may never become accustomed to his supernatural strength, but you certainly wouldn’t mind trying.

As soon as Bradley was within reach once more, your arms snaked around his neck, pulling his lips to yours hungrily as you spread your legs welcoming. The feel of the head of his cock sliding through your folds, gathering the residual slick from your orgasm, teasing your engorged clit, had you whimpering into his mouth and pressing closer, insistently. With a breathy laugh and roll of his hips at last he began to sink into you, making your eyes roll back into your head at the delicious stretch of him.

His head nestled snuggly against your neck once he was seated fully inside you, pelvis flush against yours. “Fuck, sweetheart…” He rasped, voice roughened further than usual by pleasure.

“Yes…” You exhaled. “please…”

Nipping at the crook of your shoulder in response, he rolled his hips forward, pulling a groan from deep within you. Lifting his head, eyes drinking in your reaction, he repeated the action before surging forward to swallow your noise of pleasure, hips pulling back only to snap forward and sink back into your welcoming warmth once more. Your fingers gripped the nape of his neck, your other hand once more working its way into his hair as he truly seemed to enjoy having it there as your hips bucked to meet each of his thrusts. Shifting his weight onto his left forearm, you tugged your lips back from his with a cry as the fingers of his right hand slid between your bodies to circle your clit teasingly.

“Feel so good, sweetheart.” He panted against your cheekbone.

All you could manage was a moan in reply, wrapping your legs around his hips to draw him closer, deeper. He grunted roughly at the change in angle, sliding his teeth along your earlobe as the whiskers on his upper lip teased your skin simultaneously. Your nails dug into his skin carelessly as you began to flutter around his cock.

“Go on sweetheart, cum for me.” He groaned and you whimpered, arching tighter to him as your climax was almost there, within reach.

“B..brad..” you began to stutter before his hips collided with yours, rocking forward tightly and shattering the last barrier, hurtling you into orgasm with a wail of the last syllable of his name. “…leeeey!”

You were vaguely aware of the string of curses he growled into your ear as his hips fought to maintain their rhythm, thrusting through the spasms of your body as he chased his own release before his face was pressed against your collarbone to muffle a choked off cry. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he filled its protective sheath, a sheen of sweat covering his body as his chest heaved against yours. Easing your tense grip on him, you caressed his shoulders warmly as he slowly regained control of his breathing before lifting his head to meet your eyes warmly.

Pressing your lips to his warmly, you couldn’t help the airy laughter that tumbled from your lips as his mouth pressed gentle kisses across your cheeks and brow, tickling you with his moustache in the process. Pulling back reluctantly, he slid to his feet, ambling his way to the washroom before returning with a warm washcloth, condom disposed of. Once you were properly taken care of, he manoeuvred the pair of you beneath the of the duvet, pulling you close into his arms.

“I’m plenty warm now, thank you.” He grinned against your cheek, and you could not help the bark of laughter in response.

“Guess I never did make you that drink, did I?” You sighed sheepishly.

“While we’re on the subject of things we were supposed to do…” He shifted back to meet your eyes with a more serious gaze, making you swallow reflexively. “I never once saw you as just an assignment – no matter how damn hard I tried. I meant it when I said you ‘distracted’ me…more like you took over my whole brain.” You found yourself holding your breath as he spoke, so entirely focused on every word, every micro-expression that flitted across his features as he spoke. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you plowed into me.”

Your lips twitched fondly in memory as your hand slid to cup the side of his head, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. “I was too blinded by everything happening, but after you left that hospital room, I realised how badly I had fucked it all up and I…” You spoke until the last bit of air in your lungs ran out and took a deep breath as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “…thank you for coming back.” You swallowed. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

His fingers gently pressed into the nape of your neck, tugging you closer to kiss you firmly. “Not getting rid of me now.” He mumbled against your lips prompting you to slide your arms around him tightly and kiss him deeply until you were forced to part from his lips to catch your breath again. He shifted onto his back, guiding you gently to lay across his chest as his fingers stroked against the skin of your shoulder. “‘sides I also came with a proposition…”

“Well, if it was to get me into bed…” You grinned, listening the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

He replied with a raspy chuckle. “No sweetheart I…well leadership was thoroughly impressed with your notes from your…interview. And seeing as we’ve been down a historian since the fire in Virginia, they wanted me to test your openness to recruitment.”

Your eyes widened as you lifted your headed to face him. “Recruit me. But I did a terrible job of being around a vampire…I’m only alive because of you.”

“Your instincts are good, you just need more training. Think about it.” He replied as his fingertips trailed along your jaw.

Eyeing him thoughtfully, you nodded as your mind began to consider the offer almost immediately. “I will, Bradley. I honestly will. I would have to finish my thesis, but after that I will be looking for employment.”

He grinned broadly. “Would the fact that we would get to work together often assist you with your decision making? We lost a lot of records that night and once you’re trained, you’ll need someone to go on fact finding missions with you.”

You bit your lip as the whole idea was becoming more and more attractive. “Seriously considering it, Bradley.” You tapped his nose, mouth falling open with a squeak as his teeth surged up to capture your fingertip gently.

Effortlessly, he flipped and pinned you beneath him before slinking back beneath the duvet to seal his mouth over your core. You truly never would grow accustomed to the supernatural strength and stamina he had been born with as a vampire hunter, but it certainly did not stop you from trying as often as possible.

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

The Night Moves Masterlist

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

#top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #top gun smut #vampire au #vampire hunter au

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roosterscockpit · 2 years

Text

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw x reader P. 14

click here for the master list

Hi my babes 🥹 I am so happy you all enjoyed the last part. It really warms my heart that you all fell in love with daddy Brad 🥺❤️ There will be a lot more lovey Bradley as time progresses. Thank you all again for being here with me. I love you all 💕 Happy reading and enjoy!

A/n: You just experienced Bradley's first real encounter with his little girl. How will your last night with Bradley go? Will the love continue into the night, or will the nerves wash over? Also, feel free to listen to the songs throughout the story that are listed to get the full experience 🫶🏼

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, mentions death, mentions masturbation, sadness, but also so much love it hurts ❤️ (please let me know if I missed anything)

Please don't take my work, I will find you.

Ps. Three parts in a row... I need to catch up with my writing before I fall behind 😂

Pss. I couldn't find a gif from Top Gun that suited this part of the story lolol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to rustling. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Everything was still blurry but you could see Bradley sitting at the edge of the bed. You looked at the clock and it read 4 AM. You crawled toward him and rubbed his back.

“Hey.” You kissed his cheek. “You okay?” You rested your chin on his shoulder.

He had his hands together and pushed them against his lips. “I just can’t sleep, sweetheart.”

You got goosebumps when he called you that. “What can I do to help?” You started to lightly scratch the back of his head while you placed a soft kiss on the back of his shoulder.

He turned his head slightly so he could see you slightly in his peripheral vision. He pushed his lips together. “Just be here with me, please.” He put his hand up to your cheek and closed his eyes. He leaned his head to yours and just sat there with you in silence. He was under so much pressure and you knew it. He was always one to get really quiet and enjoy the silence when he was stressed out and overwhelmed.

The two of you just sitting there in silence, you could hear his heart pounding. You hurt for him, you knew he was scared. In a couple of hours, he would possibly be in a situation where it was life or death. You shed a tear, you didn’t want to lose him again. You couldn't lose him. He needed to be in your life. He needed to meet Leia. You took your head off of his shoulder and looked at him. He turned his head fully to look at you. He looked at you with concern. He had no reason to look at you that way. He was the one you should be looking at nervously, but there he was… the Bradley that you knew. The Bradley that always made sure you were okay even if he wasn’t.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His puppy dog eyes looking at you in the moonlight. “What’s on your mind?” He now turned his upper body to caress your cheek and wipe your tear away.

You couldn’t speak, but surely you had to say something…anything. You opened your mouth to say something, but instead, nothing came out. Only a little croak from your throat was able to escape. Your body broke down. You put your head down and began to cry. You were so upset with yourself. You should have been comforting him, not the other way around. All he wanted was for you to live in the moment with him. He pulled you into him, patting your hair and rocking you.

“Shhhhh, sweetheart. I’m here. I will always be with you, no matter how far. No matter what. I’m here, y/n.” He kissed the top of your head.

You sat there slumped over in his arms. You felt so weak, but he supported your weight against him. Your head against his bare warm chest, his strong arms wrapped around you gently, his lips resting against your hair. You could feel him breathing against you. His breath was slow and steady. He brought his hand to your hair and stroked it gently, “I’m still here, baby.” He continued to rock you gently and you slowly brought your face to his.

“Bradley, I’m so scared.” You sniffled.

He leaned back a little bit so he could look at your face. He wiped the tears from your eyes and let out a deep breath. He pushed your hair from your face as he looked at you with sad eyes. He started to chew on his lips. He continued to play with your hair. He was silent. You could see in his eyes he was terrified too. You put your hand to his face, you were shaking. He gulped, “I am too, sweetheart. But I am going to do my absolute best. I promise I will come home to you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Your lip was quivering, “Do you promise? You’ll come back to me?”

He saw the hurt in your swollen red eyes. He nodded slowly, “I promise. I will be back before you know it.” He was trying to stay positive and strong for you. He didn’t want you to worry and fall into the same state you were in when he was deployed. “While I am gone, remember I am always with you. Every time you look into our baby girl’s eyes… I am there with you.”

Your breath was sharp, “Please come home to me, Bradley. I can’t be without you. I’ve already done that long enough. I don’t want to do it again.”

He pulled you in and kissed you slowly, it was deep and passionate. He dug his hands into your back and hair. He didn’t want to let go. This was his way of promising you he was going to come back. You both slowly pulled apart and pecked your lips one more time.

You wish you could have said something more, but you felt like you were being choked. You started to shake. He brought you back to him and held onto you tighter while he laid his head on top of yours. You raised your head and took that moment in. You were staring into his eyes, the same eyes your daughter shared, you took in every feature of his face, and you took everything in. You put your hands on his cheeks, gently and lightly running your fingers over every feature, every scar, the slight bump he got on the left side of his nose from one of those crazy nights in college, the way his hair fell perfectly, his long eyelashes, his heavy hooded eyelids. You took him all in, what if this was your last? You wanted to remember how perfect he looked, even while being under mass amounts of pressure. He always held himself so well, it was one thing you admired the most.

You already missed him so much and he was still here, sitting in front of you. He stood up and went to grab his phone from your dresser. He smiled as he pushed play on the playlist he had in his phone named “y/n <3.” His phone started to play the slowed version of, Turning Page by Sleep at Last. You let out a sigh of relief and let out a small chuckle while dropping your head into your hands. He walked over to you with a smirk on his face. He wanted you to feel better and knew exactly what to do.

He put his hand out to you, “May I have this dance, beautiful?” He let out a little chuckle.

You grabbed his hand and slowly got off the bed. He smoothly maneuvered your hand to put on his shoulder and your other hand to his other shoulder. He slowly slid his hands down to your waist and pulled you closer.

“We don’t need to leave any room for Jesus now, y/n. This isn’t grade school. Come here, sweetheart.” He pulled you close to him and ducked his head down to rest his forehead on yours.

“You’re so dumb, Bradshaw.” You smiled and closed your eyes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and interlocked your fingers together. He slowly ran his hands from your hips to the small of your back. You lightly and gently scratched at the back of his neck, slowly swaying with him as the song played in the background.

"Nothing prepared me for, What the privilege of being yours would do..."

He slowly ran his hands up and down your back. He pulled you in closer and you were now laying on his chest while he rested his head on top of yours. You took in every second. You wanted to burn it into your memories.

"Every kiss is a cursive line, Every touch is a redefining phrase..."

The way you two were dancing slowly in the dark with the moonlight coming into lowly illuminated the room. The way you two were slow dancing in just underwear, how the warmth between you felt so calming, how your hearts were beating at the same rhythm, the way every slight touch felt so intense, the way he held you close and you literally became one, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he was breathing, the warmth of his breath on your hair, the smell of his cologne, the small creaking of the floor where you two stood. You felt so loved, so relaxed. You never wanted this moment to end, you wanted to live in it forever…. With him.

“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell, When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well…”

The two of you danced gracefully with one another. Your bodies just fit together so well. He took this moment to make it known that you were loved by him. The way he rubbed his callused hands up and down your back, how he held you so close to him, how you were being cradled in his arms. He never wanted to let you go, he never wanted to have to leave again. He wanted to stay here with you day in and day out. You had his whole heart, you always did.

“I never want this to end, Bradley.” You whispered against his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, “It won’t, baby girl.”

Luckily for you, another song played. Another slowed version of, Every Time I Close My Eyes by Babyface. This song brought you back to college. You held Bradley closer and he started to rub your back knowing what this song meant to you.

“Girl, it's been a long, long time comin' yes it has…But I, I know that it's been worth the wait…”

*Flashback*

You were sitting in your first engineering class in college. You were so nervous, you didn’t know anyone. You were from Florida and moved to Virginia for school. You were sitting alone listening to your parent’s wedding song, Every Time I Close My Eyes by Babyface and Kenny G, It was a comforting song. It reminded you of your parents. Anytime you were very anxious you would just listen to it and it felt like they were there with you. You started to flip through the textbook for the class and a boy sat next to you. He tapped your shoulder and you looked up. He had a cute mullet, a slight mustache growing in, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He was smiling at you and said something, but you couldn’t hear him because you had your earbuds in. You took one of the buds out.

Y/n: “I'm sorry what did you say?” You smiled back at him.

Bradley: “I asked what you were listening to?” He was smiling so big.

Y/n: “Oh, it's called Every Time I Close My Eyes. It's by Babyface.”

Bradley: “Oh I’ve never heard of that song. Is it any good?” He raised an eyebrow and pushed his lips together.

Y/n: “Yea it's a really good song, it was actually my mom and dad’s wedding song.” You looked away and smiled.

Bradley: “Hmmm. May I?” He pointed at your hanging earbud and sat next to you.

You let out a small laugh, “Be my guest.” You handed him your free earbud.

He scooted closer to you and put the earbud in. You pulled out your iPod and replayed the song from the beginning. He sat there with you listening to music during the whole 2-hour lecture. He would look over at you and nod when he would hear a song he liked. The two of you were taking notes and he nudged you. You looked at him.

Bradley: “I love this song.” He whispered to you. He started to mouth the words of the song.

The song, Oh Honey by Delegation, was playing. You smiled as he bobbed his head to the beat of the song and continued to mouth the words. You started to lightly bob your head to the beat too. He looked over at you and smiled and you two bobbed your heads together.

He put his pen to his mouth as if it were a microphone and sang to you softly, “When my poor heart, is breaking apart, she’ll put it back together.”

You giggled and continued to take notes. You would look over at him occasionally and he would really be getting into the song.

He tapped you again one more time before the song ended. He was dancing in his chair to the beat of the song and serenaded you softly again, “Now I just wanna thank you, baby, for giving me a brand new start…I was going down you save me…When you let me in your loving heart.”

You laughed quietly and bit your lip. You already liked him. He seemed like he could be a good time.

After the lecture was done Bradley gave you your ear bud back. You took it in your hand, “Thank you…”

“Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw.” He stuck out his hand.

You took his hand, “y/f/n y/l/n. But everyone calls me y/n/n.” You smiled.

The both of you started to put your books away into your backpacks. You stood up and pushed your chair in.

Bradley: “So, same time tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

You smiled and bit your bottom lip. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

Bradley: “Good.” He looked at you with some really cute puppy eyes and smirked.

You shook your head and walked out of the class. You didn’t even get 10 steps away from the classroom and you heard someone run up next to you.

“Hey wait!” He stood in front of you stopping you. You stopped abruptly and were shocked. You looked at him and smiled weakly.

“Do you want to grab lunch? I have an hour's break before my next class… Y’know, if you’re free?” He put his hands up and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll pay.” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.

You nodded your head and took a while to answer. “You know what BRADley BRADshaw, I would love that.” Your emphasis on his very entertaining name.

He laughed, “I have a sweet name, I know. You're just jealous.” He winked at you.

He stuck his arm out for you to hold, “Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes and looped your arm with his. You were never one to be outgoing and spontaneous, but Bradley made you feel different. He gave you a lot of confidence and you trusted him right away. He gave you a good vibe and it was definitely something you needed right now.

The two of you went to go get some pizza at a pizzeria that was down the street from the campus.

Y/n: “How’d you know about this place?” You took a bite of your pizza. It was so good.

Bradley: “I come here all the time.” He was nodding his head.

Y/n: “Oh you’re from here?”

Bradley: “No. No, I’m not. This is my second year at the University of Virginia.” He took a bite of his pizza.“What about you? You from here?”

Y/n: “No, I'm from Florida.” You pressed your lips together.

Bradley: “So, you like oranges then?” He raised his eyebrows at you.

You laughed, “What?” You furrow your eyebrows.

Bradley: “You know, they grow a lot of oranges over there?” He shrugged and took another bite of his pizza.

You narrowed your eyes and laughed. “I like you, Bradshaw. You amuse me.” You shook your head with your mouth slightly opened and your tongue pushed against your cheek. “And your choice of lunch is beyond perfect.”

He raised his pizza to you and smiled. “And I like your choice of music. It’s… captivating…” He studied you for a second as you took a bite of your pizza and looked at him, “Like you munching on that pizza.”

You laughed and he smirked at you.

The months went on and you and Bradley were inseparable. You two always met up after classes and hung out when you would study. You two were just always together.

“Hey so y/n/n. I thought I could drop by your dorm with some pizza later and we could study for our first exam.” He was walking you to your next class.

Y/n: “oh um, I won’t be able to tonight.” You started to walk faster to your class.

He stopped for a minute and tilted his head in confusion. It wasn’t like you to turn down a hangout with pizza. You got further ahead and he ran to catch up with you. He got in front of you and put his hand out. You halted to his hand on your stomach.

He looked at you sadly, “But we always hang out after classes are done.”

“I’m sorry Brad, I won’t be able to today.” You pushed him aside and kept walking to your class.

He sensed something off with you. He walked past you and stopped in front of you again, “Oh okay, well maybe tomorrow?”

“Yea tomorrow is fine.” You were about to walk passed him to go into your class.

He grabbed your arm before you could, “Hold on.” He pulled you in for a hug. “Have a good day at school, sweetheart.” He squeezed you super tight and acted like he was crying.

You started to laugh. “Yes, mom.” You rolled your eyes.

“I love you.” He started to wipe his fake tears and clenched his heart.

“Love you too.” You shook your head and walked into class.

He knew there was something wrong, but he didn’t want to push you. He knew you would tell him when you were ready. You told each other everything.

Later on, you were in your dorm room crying and clinging to a picture of your parents. You held the picture in your hands and shook. It was your parent’s death anniversary. You wanted to be alone, it had been the first year without them. The truth was you wanted to come to Virginia University because it's where your parents met. It made you feel closer to them and you knew they were there with you every step of the way. You cried and then you heard a knock at your door. You wiped your tears and put your parent's picture down. You went to the door and looked through the peephole.

“Shit.” It was Bradley.

He knocked again, “Hey y/n/n, I know you said you couldn’t today but I just really missed you. I brought some ice cream. Pleeeeeeeaaasssseeeeeeee.” Silence. “If you wanted alone time to masturbate we could have totally done that together y/n.”

You opened the door. He was smiling holding up the ice cream and then he looked down at you.

Bradley: “Holy shit, y/n. What happened?”

He put the ice cream down on your desk and held you. You started to cry more.

He pushed the hair from your face and wiped your runny nose. “Hey, tell me what’s going on?”

You sat with him on the floor. “My parents.”

Bradley: “Are they okay? What happened?”

Y/n: “It's their first death anniversary.” You wiped your eyes.

Bradley put his hand on your knee, “Hey.” He gave it a squeeze. “It's going to be okay. I know the first one is always hard. I promise it gets a little easier, but I’m here if you need me. I’ll always be here.”

You looked up at him, “How would you know, Brad?” Your shoulders dropped.

He sucked his lips in and bit them and looked down. “I lost my parents too, y/n.” He looked at you and cupped your cheek. “I know how you’re feeling.”

You took a deep breath, “I'm so sorry.”

He scooted closer. “Thank you but don’t be.” He picked up your chin. “Let me help you heal, y/n.”

He stood up and grabbed your iPod from your backpack. He plugged it into your iHome and turned on your mom and dad’s wedding song. He reached his hand out to you. “May I have this dance, beautiful?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A new memory has been unlocked 😫 Yes I cried... It was so sweet that Bradley remembered how to make you feel better 🥹 He is winning my heart more and more as the story goes on 😭 It's only going to get better as your guys' last night together before the mission continues. I'll see you in the next part babes 💕

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years

Text

all of my past, i tried to erase it (lt. jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: this has, by far, been one of the hardest things i’ve ever written. it’s also been one of the most rewarding. cheers.

summary: The edges of his past are more than a little frayed.

title comes from conan gray’s “family line”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: a character study, childhood abuse, brief discussion of physical childhood abuse, suicide of a sibling, trauma, angst, hurt/no comfort, panic attacks, Hangster if you squint, a few run-on sentences i couldn’t bear to part with

word count: 893

The crisp breeze of fall rippled through him and Jake willed himself not to shudder.

He swallowed, eyes following yet another leaf as it falls down, making a home in front of the grave.

Another year gone.

It still felt like yesterday.

Still felt like yesterday, hearing her voice one last time.

Hearing her voice for the last time, when he didn’t think there ever would be.

His jaw clenched as he rubbed his hands together, the familiar feeling of teeth on teeth bringing him back to the present.

He would not cry.

The room was buzzing, alive with noise. His skin was buzzing, too tight on his body. His trademark smirk was on his face, but it was too sharp, too mean.

Javy’s eyes were watching him ever so carefully, waiting for the too tight rubber band to snap.

He couldn’t do this.

The sound of pool balls clacking against each other echoed in his brain as his bottom lip became chewed raw.

Everything was too sharp, too blurry, too loud.

Had been since the day she died.

“You with us Hangman?”

His eyes snapped up to meet those of Bradley Bradshaw’s. The hazel orbs held nothing but concern, but Jake feared it wasn’t real.

Feared the love and care and friendship they had shown Jake since the return from the suicide mission was fake.

Feared that he wasn’t good enough, had never been enough.

But he’d known that all along hadn’t he?

Normally, he’d call his sister but-

He couldn’t do that anymore. Hadn’t been able to do that for a long time now.

He chose to swallow the anxiety that makes him want to run, the fear that’s making him cold, and instead tighten his grip on his pool cue. “I’m good Rooster.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, ever a lie. “I’m very good. Too good to be true.”

Rooster raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t quite believe him. Hangman purses his lips, not wanting to let the words spill over. Javy’s right there, waiting to catch him if they do spill, if he falls. He wishes he wouldn’t.

He doesn’t deserve it.

They’re all watching him and Jake feels the burning beneath his skin. He needs to get out, get away, from their looks, their concern.

What is he supposed to tell these people? That today is single-handedly the worst day of his entire life? That this day each year marks more time passed without his little sister, his best friend, the only person who understood him, saw him for more than his cocky smirk and arrogant attitude? Reminds him of all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father, that only one of them successfully got out? That he failed in his promise to protect her by failing to protect her from her own mind?

The words scorched his insides, his brain, his memories, and he couldn’t let him scorch his lips, scorch the beginnings of bridges between him and these people. Between him and Bradshaw.

But it’s already too late, long suppressed memories forcing their way to the forefront, demanding to be seen.

The snap of a belt.

Purple, green, yellow littering his skin. Littering hers.

We are not the same.

The sound of doors slamming shut.

Disappointment.

Tires squealing on the gravel driveway.

Hushed whispers, promises that would only ever be broken being made in the dead of the night.

We’ll get out of here.

I’ll protect you.

The sound of his mother’s cries echoing through the house.

Someone who loves you wouldn’t do this.

His sister’s body, lying there motionless, cold to the touch.

A scream ripping from someone’s throat, because it can’t be his own-

He can’t breathe.

He needs to get out, get away, run from these memories, pieces of his past he’s tried so hard to leave behind. Javy’s clasping him on the shoulder, eyes full of worry. He shakes him off, turning as the group protests, watching him leave. He squeezes past the people in the bar. Everything feels too tight against him, the walls closing in.

The door is within his sight now. He can almost feel the fresh ocean breeze, the fresh air, knowing he’ll stumble out to his car, dry heave into the sand, and go home, only to lay wrapped tight in his comforter trying to keep out the ghosts of his past that haunt him day and night.

He doesn’t get that far.

Someone else is touching him, grabbing on to his shoulder, and panic rips through him at the movement. As his eyes come into focus, he distantly hears Maverick introducing him to another Captain and he has to keep his chest from heaving.

Keep up appearances, never let them see, never show your flaws, your faults, your weaknesses.

You’re weak.

The Captain reaches out a hand, a smile on his face. “Wouldn’t happen to be Robert Seresin’s kid?”

The words stutter up his throat, the memories of the cruel man who claimed to be his father worming back in. “That- that’d be the one.”

Maverick’s looking at him with the same concern at his wavering tone, at the fear wrapped around the words, the same concern his team mates had shown him, the confusion growing. It doesn’t matter though.

He can run but he can’t hide from his family line.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fics #jake hangman seresin imagines #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin fics #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fics

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endlesssummerexchange · 10 months

Text

i can hear it now like i heard it then (c'mon, i dare you)

By: thegeckbros | @katiesharms

For: perishablealex | @perishablealex

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Rating: M

Word count: 16,367

Summary: He and Jake have been many things to each other, from rivals to genuine enemies to tentative friends to lovers. But they’ve never once, in their entire acquaintance, been awkward with one another. Even in those early days of a relationship, when the boundaries between friendship and something more were soft and blurry, Bradley never felt at a loss for words. They fight and they fuck and they whisper embarrassingly soft things and they banter inconsequentially, but they’re never silent. But they’ve never been broken up before.

COLLECTION

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Hangman x Rooster #Bradley Bradshaw x Jake Seresin #Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun fic #TGESE23 #TGEndlessSummerExchange

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cherrycola27 · 2 years

Text

SIREN'S SONG

Chapter 12: Rocketman Pt. 2

Paring: Rooster x OC Captain Harper Ann "Siren" Mitchell-Bradshaw

A/N: This chapter was inspired by the Elton John Classic "Rocketman" also special shout out to @marvelsvalhalla for listening to my ideas and helping me come up with the chapter title. Also this is the final installment of Siren's Song!

Warnings: Mentions of Ejection, injuries, cursing, drinking, self esteem issues, body insecurities. Jake "Hangman" Seresin... yes Hangman gets his own warning. Allusions to smut. 18+ Minors DNI

"They are going to bring him home Harper" Penny says brushing her daughter's hair out of her face as she laid on her lap. "Hangman and your dad are leading the rescue team. They picked up his signal and are getting closer each minute to finding him" She assured her. "It's been five days since they got a signal Penny." Harper sniffed out. "What if they don't find him... or worse he's dead when they do find him? More tears came out as Harper clutched her stomach.

"What if my child never knows their father?" She whispered sitting up. "That baby is going to know their father no matter what. Because you, me, your father, and all of his or hers aunts and uncles are going to tell them about him everyday." Penny reassured Harper as she began to tear up herself.

Penny pulled Harper close as she watched the phone. She stared at it as if she could will it to ring with the news that Rooster was alive and on his way home. "I'm freezing mom... Im going to go upstairs and get a hoodie." Harper said escaping her mothers grasp.

Harper went upstairs and pulled one of Roosters warn Navy hoodies out of the closet. She inhaled his sent that lingered on it. She put it on then grabbed his ring on her dog tags.

"Please Goose.... please bring him back to me" She whispered in a silent prayer.

Bradley wasn't sure how much time had past from his crash until now. His emergency supply of food was gone and he had enough water for maybe a day. The world was blurry and he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. His head injury made it hard to think. They only thing that kept him going was the picture of Harper and the promise he made to come home to her. His body was so tired. He closed his eyes for a minute and drifted to sleep. It wasn't an easy restful sleep though.

"Son... you have to wake up" He heard Goose's voice say to him. "Bradley get up. She's waiting for you." He heard his mother say. "You asked me to talk to you, so I am Rooster. Get up. Mav is coming for you. He promised me." Goose's voice said again. Bradley shot straight up.

He knew his mind must have been playing tricks on him because he was sure he had seen an F-18 fly over and maybe a navy helicopter. And he knew for sure he must have been hallucinating because he swore he heard Maverick and Hangman's voice calling out to him. "Rooster!" The phantom voices yelled. As much as Bradley knew the voices weren't real he couldn't help but hear his parents in the back of his mind, so mustering all of the strength and energy he had left, Rooster called out to the voices and half stumbled half jogged towards them.

He was sure he was seeing things when he laid eyes on Maverick and Hangman. But when both men hugged him he gasped... "You're real Mav? You're really here. You came back and got me just like Dad said you would." Rooster cried before collapsing into the older man's arms.

Maverick cried knowing that he had found him. Jake helped him carry Rooster back through the forest to the waiting medical helicopter. The weight of the world had been lifted off Jake and Pete's shoulders knowing now that Rooster was alive.

Harper was still upstairs when she heard the phone ring. She waiting at the top of the landing holding her breath. She couldn't hear much because Penny was talking in a whisper. She heard her hang up the phone and ran down stairs.

"Was that dad?" She asked nervously. "Yes it was your father. He had news." Penny replied. Harper's breath caught in her throat. "Did they... is he... is he dead?" She choked out sobbing yet again. She had been crying so much the past few days she wasn't sure how she had any tears left.

"No baby. They found him... alive. He's alive. A little banged and bruised, dehydrated and a severe concussion... but alive" Penny relayed with tears in her eyes. "They will be home in an hour."

"He's alive" Harper whispered. "Did you hear that baby... daddy's alive and coming home." The flood gates opened as Harper hit her knees. Penny pulled her daughter to her chest.

"Thank you Goose." Harper cried.

An hour later both women and rest of the team were waiting for the naval helicopter to touch down. Harper held onto her mother and Phoenix when the red and white helicopter came into view. She waited with baited breath for it to land.

Out first came Jake and her Father both covered in sweat and dirt, but with smiles on their faces. Harper waited anxiously and then she saw him. He was on a stretcher with an oxygen mask and an IV. She couldn't wait another minute. Harper ran to her husband. When he saw her Rooster took off the oxygen mask and ripped the IV out of his arm. The aerial doctors insisted he sit back down and let them help him. But when Harper came to him he brushed them off stating "give me a minute to hold my girl." He staggered into her arms.

"You came back." Harper whispered kissing him passionately. " Told you I would. I promised and I never break a promise." Rooster slurred before he collapsed on the tarmac.

Harper held her husband to her chest as the medics loaded him up to take to the infirmary. Once he was settled in a room, Harper pulled up a chair and held his hand. She slipped his wedding band back on his finger and rubbed her thumb over it. Now that she wqs touching him... knew he was there... knew he was real and safe and alive... Harper allowed herself to close her eyes for the first time in almost a week and sleep.

Rooster slowly opened his eyes. The bright overhead light hurt at first. He was hyper aware of the beeping and buzzing of the hospital machines. He sat up slowly head throbbing. "Baby?" He called out hoarsly Harper had fallen asleep on his thigh. "Bradley! You're awake!" Harper sat up quickly "Oh my God you scared me so much." She said smacking his chest. "Oof" he replied mocking her.

"Oh I'm so glad you are okay!" She said kissing him." She grabbed his hand. "I thought I lost you. I thought we lost you." She said placing his hand on her stomach.

"We?" Rooster said looking between his hand and her face.

"We." She said again smiling

"Harper are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you... are you pregnant?" He asked with tears in his eyes.

"Yes!" She nodded quickly. "Almost 11 weeks. Here look!" Harper rummaged through her bag and pulled out the ultrasound pictures for Rooster to see. Overcome with emotion, both Bradshaws cried happy tears

...................................................................................................

3 years later

Harper Mitchell-Bradshaw brought the last of the dishes inside and loaded them in the dishwasher. She watched her husband and their son happily running around the backyard playing "airplanes." She smiled to herself when Bradley picked Nicholas or "Goose" as he had affectionately been nicknamed up and spun him around. The almost three year old laughed with glee.

Harper came outside and sat down in a patio chair. Rooster put his son down to let him play with their family dog Ranger. Bradley joined his wife and graciously accepted the beer she handed him while sipping lemonade.

"You're such a good daddy to him" Harper smiled grabbing her husband's hand. "You're and even better mommy to him" Rooster replied.

"I just can't wait to see how good you will be with the next one here in a few months." Harper said nonchalantly.

"Next one?" Rooster questioned making sure he heard his wife correctly. "Are you?" He began.

"Yup. Sixteen weeks. She will be here before we know it." Harper replied giggling.

"She?" Rooster smiled. "Yes she. I couldn't wait to find out this time!" Harper confessed.

That night at bedtime Goose found out he was going to be a big brother and he couldn't wait. He promised to be the best big brother ever and six months later when Caroline Penelope Bradshaw was born he was more excited than anyone.

To be so young he knew how important it was to be gentle with his new baby sister. The first time he held her he looked on her with wonder in his eyes. The first words he said to her were "Hi baby. I your big brudder Goose and I wuv you Carawine." Goose planted a big wet kiss to the top of his sister's head. He was in love with his little sister. When Grandpa Mav moved to pick up Caroline from the toddlers arms Goose politely, yet firmly said "No Granpa Mav you can't have her." as Goose pulled the baby closer to him. Maverick laughed and held his hands up in defeat. He knew better to argue with his grandson once his mind was made up. Even though he barely three years old Goose was just as stubborn and as strong willed as both of his parents. Penny never failed to remind him "Well what did you expect he is half Mitchell and half Bradshaw?!"

Bradley picked both of his children up and sat them in their mother's lap.

Harper's heart melted that instant. She loved the sight of her little family. The family didn't notice the picture Maverick took of all of them. But he would make a copy for them and one for his airplane hanger.

Once everyone had left, Goose had gone home with Grandpa Mav and Grammy P and Caroline was fast asleep in the hospital bassinet, Bradley grabbed his wife's hand and cupped her face.

"Thank you for this. For us. For our family. For loving me." He told her earnestly. "Harper you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am so glad I ran into you that day at the Hard Deck five years ago. You have made my life better by being in it. I am a better person because of you. I love you so much." Rooster whispered.

"I love you more." Harper told him pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you most"

The End

Yall I have absolutely adored writing this story. I hope everyone who has read it has enjoyed the ride. This has been such a joy for me. I promise this is not the last time you will see these characters! I love you all!

Tag List @marvelsvalhalla @shanimallina87 @tallrock35 @aless-megs

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thesithdiaries · 2 years

Text

No Fly Zone (Rooster magine)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!OC

Warnings: movie spoilers, cursings, full-on angst, injuries, mentions of cuts but it’s not for SH

A/N: the dialogue and terms are probably way off but thats to be expected cause im not military

Original female character is based on this

The mission is absolutely unachievable. The specifications are too over the top and unrealistic. How did Cyclone and Maverick expect this to get done?

“Come on, Fireball. You got it”, she heard Maverick say over the radio.

Her heart was beating quickly, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She could do this. She was the best of the best. There’s a reason why she was chosen for this mission.

Fireball’s mind went into autopilot. She could hear Phoenix, Bob and Maverick talking but she wasn’t paying attention to what they said. All she could focus on was that her laser finally worked and she dropped the missile.

“Bullseye!” Bob cheered. “That was amazing!”

“I love women”, Phoenix added, making Fireball laugh while she tried not to pass out during the climb.

“Nice job, kid. You definitely earned that piece of cake you were talking about earlier” Mav said.

Fireball was happy yet her opinion about it didn’t change. The mission was still unachievable. They practiced in an open field, with no missiles on top of them and no enemy planes sitting on a base close to the target. It was just dirt and sun for miles.

“Fuck! Look out!” Somebody screamed. Fireball gasped, finally paying attention to her surroundings.

It was a plane, coming directly at her.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, pulling the stick towards her body, making the F18 shoot up at an amazing but dangerous speed. “Holy shit!”

“Fireball, come back down! You’re going too high!” Maverick exclaimed, terrified. “The plane is gone.”

Fireball didn’t listen. She couldn’t listen. Her ears were ringing. Her adrenaline was long gone at this point, now her body was overwhelmed with fear. Suddenly, it all became too much. Fireball started nodding off, her eyes blurry, crossing and closing.

Her plane was now doing a nosedive towards the ground.

“Genevieve, wake up! Please wake up!” Maverick was screaming. He quickly moved to put a missile lock on her plane, in an attempt to make her regain consciousness with the noise. “Fireball, can you hear me? Wake up!” Phoenix and Bob were also screaming at the top of their lungs as they saw Fireball’s plane approaching the ground.

Meanwhile, back at base, the rest of the team was listening. Everyone was quiet, nobody dared to say a word. Rooster was gripping the seat with all his strength, knuckles turning white. He couldn’t lose her like that, there was no way.

Fireball slowly started opening her eyes. The noise was giving her a headache. “Pull up! Pull up!” The screams were too loud in her ears. Her realization felt like getting a bucket of cold water dumped on her head. She was about to crash. Without hesitation, she pulled the stick to try and get her plane leveled at a good altitude but it wasn’t working. Like clockwork, everything started beeping all at once.

Her cries echoed throughout the room. “It’s not working! Nothing’s working!” Rooster couldn’t breathe anymore, his heart felt like someone was squeezing it. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Genevieve, you have to eject right now. There’s no more time.”

“You’re going to crash! Eject now!”

“Holy shit! It’s on fire!”

“Fireball, eject! That’s an order.”

One hand was shakily holding the stick while the other was touching buttons, trying to find something that could work. Tears were streaming down her face, she couldn’t even see very well.

“Eject! Eject! Eject!”

Rooster bit back a cry when he heard a faint explosion in the distance. Fanboy squeezed his shoulder in support. The team didn't know what to do or what to say. The screaming over the radio didn’t tell them what caused this.

He possibly lost the woman he loved and he didn’t even say how he truly felt.

On the other side of the base, Cyclone was busy with a meeting that seemed to drag on. They were revising points that were made, adding more things. A sudden knock made everyone quiet down. A soldier opened the door and straightened up.

“Admiral Simpson?" Cyclone looked at him, he looked pale. “Sir, it’s your daughter. She’s being flown back on a medical helicopter.”

Without a second thought, Cyclone bolted out of that room. Sure, he would get reprimanded for this later but right now, his daughter was the only thing that mattered. He ran towards the medical center, it felt like hours went by while he was getting there.

Once there, he saw Rooster pacing back and forth in the hallway. He looked deranged. “Bradshaw.” His head shot up, stopping in his tracks. Shit. “What happened?”

“Sir, I-” Rooster cleared his throat. “Gen’s plane crashed… I don’t know why.”

“Is she in surgery? Has anybody said anything? Where’s Maverick?” The questions were jumbled together, he didn’t even understand himself. Rooster, on the other hand, felt like he was about to pass out.

He shook his head. “He’s over there.”

Cyclone turned around, his eyes scanning the waiting room, finally spotting Maverick on the farthest corner, sitting on the floor. The heavy footsteps broke the silence, making him look up. Cyclone looked like he wanted to break down crying but also hit him in the face. He took a deep breath before getting on his feet. “What happened out there?”

“A rogue plane came out of nowhere, coming straight towards hers.” Cyclone’s blood ran cold. Rogue? “Genevieve went up to avoid collision but she went into g-loc… We tried to wake her up but it took a while. It was too late, her plane was on fire by the end of it and she had to eject.” Cyclone was quiet. He didn’t know what to say. Maverick offered him a small smile and an arm squeeze, not really knowing how to comfort him either.

An hour later, the doctor said Genevieve was ready for visitors. Rooster wanted nothing more than to just run into the room to see her but he understood that her father needed to see her first.

Cyclone walked in slowly, almost stumbling when he saw his daughter. Her face and arms were full of small cuts and bruises. There was a stitched up gash on her cheekbone.

“Hi dad”, Genevieve whispered, reaching for him. Cyclone quickly walked towards his daughter, carefully sitting next to her on the bed. His hand softly caressed her face. “I’m okay.”

“When that soldier went to get me, I thought the worst…” he started but she interrupted him.

“It was a freak accident, I’m fine. No major injuries or anything” Genevieve reassured him.

“Are you sure? I can take you home if you want. I can take you off the mission if you don’t want to go back” Cyclone tried to get her to say yes but she shook her head and smiled.

“There's no way I'm going back home. I'm going to stay here until the mission is over, you know that. I know you didn't want me here but I love this and I won't just walk away.”

Cyclone let out a huff, there was no point in talking about it. Genevieve was a very hard nut to crack, especially when it came to the Navy and her duties. “Fine, I guess you can stay.” He gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “There’s someone outside that wants to see you, do I tell him to come in?”

Genevieve smiled. Rooster. “Yes, please.”

Cyclone walked outside, motioning Rooster to come talk to him. “You can go in.” Before he could even take a step, he spoke again. “Do you like my daughter?”

It’s now or never. “Yes, sir, I do.” Rooster felt that his voice was shaky but from Cyclone’s reaction, it looked like the complete opposite.

“If you ever hurt her, you’ll wish you never thought about joining the Navy” Cyclone said, putting his hands inside his pockets, as if that sentence was casual. “You’re a good kid, don’t let us down.”

Rooster smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, he went into Genevieve’s room, feeling a huge weight lifting off his shoulders when he saw her smiling at him.

She was okay.

Taglist:

@astraljedi ; @startterfly ; @mayafatimakhan ; @luckyladycreator2

#top gun oc #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster oc #rooster imagine #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine

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heygerald · 2 years

Text

HEART MECHANICS - PART 3/9

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x oc

Matty learns a thing or two about Maverick and his long-winding history with Rooster, and suddenly her rule to stay away from pilots doesn't seem so concrete. Maybe being nice to the new kid wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. Especially not when he offers to buy her a drink in exchange for her help.

Read it here: part 1 / part 2 / ... / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Matty was starting to see a pattern here; a pattern that she didn’t quite like to admit, but that the evidence was pretty fucking damning to prove because as she finally pulled into the hangar parking lot, she seemed to be one of the last people to show up.

Which meant that she was late.

Again.

And—god—did that really fucking annoy her.

Not just because it meant that she was always rushing from one place to the next, and not just because she was also the last person to leave at night meaning that she absolutely did put in her time, but because it meant that if she noticed it...

So did the others.

The others who were so goddamn annoying sometimes.

“Damn, Matty,” one of those others in question shouted across the parking lot. She peered through her windshield to find George grinning at her from the next row over. Even with his sands cupped around his mouth, she could still see the too-white glimmer of his teeth. “Late again?”

“By, like, five minutes.”

“I think this is officially a new record!”

“Shove it up your ass, George.”

He laughed.

Threw his head back and laughed, before striding across the parking lot with a whistle as he went. Some of the other Airmen though, the ones that didn’t have the privilege of working with her (because it was a goddamn privilege to work with Matty Neven) gaped as he strode past. Their beady little eyes swiveling on a nimble axis between George’s sunny demeanor and Matty’s decidedly less-so disposition; most likely trying to figure out how he could laugh at something when she seemed so utterly barbaric in response.

Ugh.

People needed to mind their business, she thought while climbing out of her jeep. And, actually, when a few Airmen from Bravo Company’s motor pool glanced between the pair curiously, she didn’t just think it.

“What?” she snapped. “Do I have something on my face or have you never seen a woman outside of a porno before?”

The taller one blanched. The shorter one shoved his friend on his shoulder before they were scurrying off, metaphorical tail between their legs.

Someone nearby barked out a laugh, and Matty turned to find a trio of pilots s at standing at back of her jeep. They were all sweating, red-faced, wearing the ugliest PT uniforms that she had ever seen which Top Gun was known for. Still, despite the early hour and their sore muscles, the group had varying looks of amusement spread between them.

“What?” she barked again. She never liked to be on the outside of a joke.

Somehow though, her reaction only further incited the group to laugh—giggle, really—and Matty was just about to tell them to eat shit when the woman managed to find her tongue. She was dark-haired and bright-eyed, and as she wiped some sweat off of her forehead, Matty realized she recognized her from The Hard Deck from their meeting several nights prior.

The liquor had made most of the memories from Eggy’s birthday party blurry, but those eyes and that smile were particularly difficult to forget.

“Just enjoying the conversation,” she said. Smiled. Wiggled her brows. “Tell me, did Bravo Company have it coming or...?”

Matty made a noise halfway between a grunt and a snort; not enough coffee in her system for conversation, she figured. “Something like that.”

“And the other guy?”

“Who?” she asked, scrunching together her eyebrows before she remembered her less-than-friendly interaction with George not even minutes earlier. “Oh, him? That’s George.”

“Enemies?”

She snorted again. This time, it actually sounded more like a noise a woman would make and less like mating pigs. “Only when he pisses me off. Other than that, he’s not so bad.”

The group glanced at each other before laughing once more. Matty minded, though not as much as the first time as her nerves seemed to settle down a little bit, and she tried to stretch some of the sleepiness from her shoulders as they chattered with one another.

It wasn’t until the woman spoke again that Matty even realized they were still there, staring at her, acting as if this was a real conversation and not just a passing exchange of words.

“You’re not much of a morning person, are you?” she asked.

The man beside her—Glasses, yup, she sorta remembered him too—winced a bit at the abrupt question, but he didn’t pipe up about it. She figured he was just too shy to say something.

Or maybe he just agreed with the woman’s observation.

“I like mornings just fine,” Matty deadpanned, only slightly self-conscious, though trying not to be as she grabbed her bag from the back seat. It was filled with nothing but some spare workout clothes and a pack of energy bars to replace the ones she had stolen from Nick last week, but it still felt unusually heavy on her tired shoulders. “Just not when I have to go into work surrounded by assholes.”

“I take it you’re including us in the proverbial asshole,” the woman snorted.

“Yes,” came her lightning quick response. Then, for some reason that Matty wouldn’t ever sit around considering, she hedged, “no... I don’t know? Ugh, whatever. It’s a little early for the philosophical questions, alright. Should I?”

“Should you what?”

“Consider you assholes?”

The woman’s mouth quirked up at the sides in amusement. Glasses laughed—or choked, she didn’t quite know—but covered the sound with a wince and a cough. The third, a dark-skinned man that she didn’t recognize, actually had the audacity to cross his arms over his chest with a sour look cast in her direction.

“Man, you really don’t like pilots, do you?”

“I—who told you that?” Matty asked. It was a fair question, fair assumption really, but... still. Hearing it put so bluntly made her feel kinda bad.

Not a whole lot bad, mind you, but a little.

“Rumors at the bar,” the woman replied easily. Then added, “but, the evidence isn’t so contrary. Heard that you told Rooster to fuck off last night.”

“Would you feel better if I also told you to fuck off?” Matty groused, locking her jeep, before slinging her keys into her pocket. Her thermos was already empty as she had chugged the entire cup of coffee on her drive in, and she stared at the dark bottom of the cup with something akin to depression weighing her shoulders down. “Because, you know, it’s still pretty fucking early and I haven’t hit my quota for the day so...”

Frank was probably right. She really should see someone about caffeine addiction. But, whatever, at least she wasn’t addicted to cocaine.

That was a hobby she couldn’t afford right now.

“Is there something that I’m missing here?” the dark skinned man asked. He glanced at everyone, but mostly Matty, before nudging the woman pilot in the ribs with his elbow. “Who is this? And, uh, why are we letting her call us assholes?”

“Okay, firstly,” Matty flung a finger up. It was still stained with grease and wrapped in tape from when Maverick had caused her to bang it up last week, but the digit did as told. “I’m Matty Neven, don’t forget it. And secondly, you’re not letting me do anything. I do what I want. Including call people assholes. It’s, like, my right as an American and all that shit.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Calling us assholes?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” she deadpanned. “Freedom of speech beneath the flag and all that. Isn’t that just the American dream?”

The woman pilot laughed once again, appearing to be delighted in the banter that Matty was providing them—not a reaction that she had expected. Pilots typically hated when she called them assholes.

Wait. Most people hated when she called them assholes.

Matty frowned.

Holy shit, maybe she was the asshole in these scenarios and—nope. That wasn’t something she was going to think about right now. Not only did she need coffee before drowning in her weekly existential crises, but she was also late for work, had a shit ton to do, and...

Well, you know, didn’t necessarily feel like becoming a better person before she hit her thirties. Seemed like too much effort too early in life.

“Whatever,” she waved a hand flippantly around in the air, trying to negate that line of thinking before the others could catch on. Still, they must have caught onto something because they were all fixing her with odd looks. So odd that Matty actually threw her hands up into the air with a scoff. “I don’t know! What do you want from me?”

“An apology would be nice,” the dark skinned pilot said.

Matty rolled her eyes and crossed one arm over the other. “Alright, let’s not get crazy with our wishes or anything.”

The woman threw her head back in laughter, nudging her friend in the ribs, before fixing Matty with, what she could only assume, was an appraising look. “You’re pretty funny, you know. For a mechanic. How come everyone on base told us to stay away from you?”

“You saw her drive here, right?” Glasses mumbled under his breath.

Matty heard it and shot him a dour look in response. After he gave her a sheepish smile in return, though, she did snag a glance at her parking job; winced, when she realized that she wasn’t even close to being inside the lines.

Rolling her eyes, she tried to get back on track.

Was there even a track to begin with?

“So, what, I’m not much of a morning person after all,” the hand went waving in the air once more, “yada, yada, yada. There’s just a bunch of rumors on base ever since I kneed Kenningson in the balls. Him and his little friends scattered after that.”

Glasses paled. “Uh... why?”

“Oh, relax,” she told him. “He deserved it. So long as you don’t play grab ass with me, you’ll be fine. But, yeah, everyone started to steer clear after that incident. Well, pilots, mostly. That’s a whole different issue.”

“Issue being...?” the woman inquired.

Matty waved her off. “It’s really too early for this and I’m really late to work. If I promise not to knee you in the balls, will you promise not to gang up on me in the parking lot tomorrow?”

“Scared?” the dark skinned man quipped.

“Of having another official reprimanding, sure,” Matty shot back. His eyebrows curled all the way to his hairline at that, and she smiled in response. The woman pilot just laughed once more though. Matty liked her. “Who are you guys, anyways? I already met the bird.”

“One bird, anyways,” she said. Then grinned. “I’m Phoenix. This is Bob, and this is Payback. We’re just here for the next two weeks.”

“So I’ve heard,” Matty sighed, before fixing Glasses—Bob—with a look. “You’re call sign is actually Bob? What’s that stand for? Bottom of the barrel?”

Payback snorted into his water bottle so hard he choked. Phoenix smacked him on the back while Bob went red to the tips of his ears.

Matty, confused, just glanced between the group. “What? What’d I say?”

“Nothing,” Payback shook his head, wiped some water off of his chin, and then asked her, “you don’t happen to spend time hanging around Hangman by any chance, do you?”

Matty made a face; not the good kind. “Who the fuck is that?”

Phoenix bit her lip while still patting Payback on the shoulder. When she finished, though, she seemed to be laughing at another inside joke that Matty wasn’t a part of. Not until she said, “he was the guy at the bar that you gave the finger to.”

Well... Ok. Not actually all that helpful.

Matty cocked a hip. “You’ll have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Wow,” Bob muttered, nudging his glasses a little higher up his face before saying, “are you sure you aren’t friends with Seresin? I think you two would get along great.”

“Drawing blanks here, guys.”

“The blonde,” Phoenix continued. Matty struggled to picture any faces at all—any faces that weren’t tan, cute, and oh-so-fuckable like... “Blue eyes. Winked at you from the bar next to Penny.”

So, not Rooster.

“Oh, him.”

“You give the finger to a lot of guys?” Phoenix asked, amusement piquing her voice over the sound of morning work starting. Down the tarmac, Matty could just make out the hangar opening up fully to let the morning air in, and beyond that she could make out the dark head of hair arriving on the back of a familiar motorcycle. “I suppose it is quicker than straight-up telling someone to fuck off.”

“The more I speak, the less liquor I swallow,” Matty shrugged. “So—Hangman. Did I hurt his feelings or something? Is that what this whole thing is about?”

“Or something,” Payback chirped. “He has a bit of a fragile ego.”

“That’s hardly my fault.”

“Nope, not your fault at all,” Phoenix smiled. Her gaze darted over towards the grassy field where the other half of their group must have just finished the morning workout, and when Matty followed her gaze, it was easy enough to pick out the gleaming head of gold amongst a sea of brown. “Actually, it kind of made my night. Not enough people can shut up Jake Seresin. So, no, that’s not at all what this is about. In fact, if you ever feel like putting him in his place again, you’d be doing us a favor.”

Matty harrumphed. “Send him my way, then. I’m more than happy to perform community service.”

Phoenix opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, someone was yelling at the trio from the grass.

“Are you guys coming? We’re gonna be late!”

Bob checked his watch, cursed, and then gave his friend the same look that George had given Matty. “We should go if we want to shower before lecture starts with Mav.”

Payback groaned. “Ugh. His lectures blow man, I just want to fly.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and everyone else,” Phoenix rolled her eyes. Matty’s gaze drifted curiously over to the larger group of pilots, though, and found it was just as easy to zero her sights in on Rooster as it had been for Hangman.

And—Christ. It really wasn’t fair how good he managed to look while sweaty.

“You give him the finger and I’m gonna have to fight you,” Phoenix interrupted her line of sinful thinking.

Matty turned to her, surprised. “You his lapdog or something?”

Unperturbed by the sudden attitude, the brunette just shrugged. Something twinkled in the back of her eyes, though, that Matty knew well enough; knew because it was the same look she got when someone messed with Frank, the same look he got when some sleazy guy hit on her. “Just friends.”

Odd how easy Matty understood that simple explanation.

“Sure,” she shrugged, snagging another glance at Rooster as he slung off his shirt to wipe his face. It was almost slow motion, and Matty had to physically pull her gaze off of him to return it to the others. “I get that.”

Bob and Payback nodded.

Phoenix, however, had a new look in her eyes as she gazed over Matty—head to toe, toe to head—and it made the mechanic nervous. Uncomfortable. As if she were being studied.

Frowning, Matty crossed one arm over the other. “Just tell your boys to stay out of my motor pool and we won’t have any problems, yeah?”

“Sure,” Phoenix echoed. “I get that.”

But as the three made her leave, as Rooster slung an arm over Phoenix’s shoulder and dragged her towards the barracks with a laugh and a curious glance in Matty’s direction, she had to wonder.

Wonder until the pair disappeared out of view, until her eyes burned from the sun, until—

“Are you having a fucking stroke out there, Matts, or did you finally just give up on life?”

Boomer.

She was going to fucking kill him one of these days. That much she didn’t have to wonder about; she just knew.

---

Matty liked a lot of things about being a soldier.

Mostly though, she liked the routine. Wake up, get dressed, go for a run, chug some coffee, eat some scrambled eggs with toast and a slice of turkey bacon, go to work, do the job, eat dinner, drink some beer, rinse, and repeat.

It was a nice concept: routine, routine, routine.

But, sometimes, routine was meant to be broken. Times where Matty had a lot going on or she was starting to fall into a rut or she just needed a moment of something different to really enjoy her life.

Different like having Maverick bust down her door at the crack of dawn just so he could drag her seventeen miles off base to a small, cozy diner that smelled like burnt coffee and sugar confections.

"You can stop glaring," he told her after the waitress had seated the pair in a plastic covered booth. They had a spot right next to the window, allowing a view of the shimmery shoreline, but most of the world was still asleep along with the waves, and there wasn't much to see other than the occasional seagull fighting over abandoned hotdog rolls. "You're gonna get your coffee. And I'm paying."

Matty didn't stop glaring. "It's six am."

"And?" Mav shrugged. She hadn't the slightest idea how he still managed to be chipper at a time like this. "You're a soldier, aren't you? I would have thought you would be used to this by now."

She grunted. Sorta. It kind of came out as a mewling moan that a dying cat might make, but it seemed to effectively get the point across.

He laughed with a shake of the head. "How aren't you a morning person by now? Rick was always the first up during school."

"Yeah, well, my dad and I obviously have different ideas about a fun morning," she grumbled.

However, when their waitress, a white-haired woman with a smile that didn't quite suit the time of morning, stopped by to fill her cup with black coffee, Matty started to feel a little bit less bitter when she got the first sip of her morning caffeine.

Mav quirked a brow at her. "Better?"

"Shut up," she told him, though, it was decidedly better now that she had a source of caffeine. "You could have just texted me, you know. Banging on my door at the crack of dawn wasn't exactly a gracious wake up call."

"You never respond to my texts," he shrugged.

"That's because you never text anything worth responding to," she simpered.

Neither argued what the other said because in a way they were both right. Matty was horrible about responding to texts; never really one that was on her phone in the first place, if people didn't call, she hardly ever got back to them. And Maverick was a pretty awful texter. He usually sent half-thought through messages that she couldn't make heads or tails of or he would send blurry photos that she hadn't a clue of what he was trying to show her.

Shrugging it off, she took another long sip of coffee, before asking, "what's the purpose of this, anyways?"

"The purpose?"

"Ah, come on, Mav," she rolled her eyes with a tut. Mav smiled at her theatrics, but he had the guilty look in his eyes that meant he knew exactly what she was getting at. "You've been here a week and have talked to me once."

"You're busy?"

"I'm always busy."

"I'm busy?" he tried.

She fixed him with a glare, pausing only long enough to give their waitress her breakfast order of waffles and bacon before turning back to him. "You texted me once while in Abu Dhabi. Being busy has never stopped you before."

"Well, I..." he trailed off.

She wondered if that was because he didn't know what to say or because he didn't know how to say it. Either way, she watched his gaze drift outside as he collected his thoughts; lips drawn into a frown that seemed so uncharacteristically severe on his face.

But then he said, "I saw Ice last night," and it was all really clear.

The morning wake-up call, the surprise visit, the tepidness and bashful smiles.

"Oh," was all she said.

Because, really, Matty didn't know what to say to that. Maverick had been out of town for a while, that much she knew, and she assumed that him and Ice had called each other over the years to stay in touch, but she hadn't quite considered the fact that Ice might have been keeping some secrets from Mav. Surprising in that way that they seemed like best friends who shared everything, but unsurprising in the way that she knew her godfather.

If there was something that Ice thought he could do on his own, he wasn't about to tell anyone until the last possible moment.

Mav peered at her with a sigh. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't really my place to tell," she said; only the tinniest bit defensive because deep down she knew that he didn't mean anything by it. Maybe, he was just trying to come to terms with everything and this was his way of doing it. "Plus... I don't know, I guess I didn't think about you."

He winced. She winced.

"Sorry," she said while clearing her throat, sipping her coffee. "I didn't mean it to sound like that."

If Mav took offense, he didn't let on. Just sighed so deeply that his shoulders sank nearly to the table, trying—but failing—to smile. "I know, I get it. Ice is... well, Ice. He's always done things his own way."

Matty gave a half-snort. "No wonder you two are best friends. I can't even imagine what you were like back in Top Gun together."

That seemed to lighten the mood a little. Enough, at least, for Mav to give her an actual smile rather than the grimace he had been giving before. Still, it fell a little flat at the end. "We weren't exactly friends during Top Gun. I thought your dad would have told you the stories by now."

"Oh, he did," she chirped, eyeing him behind her warm cup of coffee as she took another swallow, feeling a little bit more like herself with every sip. "Hollywood has told plenty of stories over the years. Still, seeing you all now makes it a little hard to believe that you didn't get along back then."

"I was kind of an ass back then."

"Kind of?" she teased. He laughed, shook his head, and sipped at his own coffee without meeting her gaze. Matty snickered at that. "He says everyone liked Goose, but they could never figure out why he always stuck up for you."

And, shit. That definitely wasn't the right thing to say.

Because the smile was wiped off of his face faster than he could fly a jet and suddenly Matty felt like an asshole for even mentioning the name. There were a lot of things her dad had told her over the years about his former pilot friends, but the biggest thing had always been the story of how traumatic Goose's death had been during school—and not just for Maverick, but for everyone who had to climb into the cockpit following the accident.

And here she was bringing it back up. Like an asshole.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay," he cut her with the terse shake of the head. He was still staring out the window, and while she couldn't quite read his face, his voice was rough and uneven. Not exactly convincing. "Goose was a good friend; the best I could have ever asked for, actually. That's why he was always sticking up for me."

She licked her lips. "He sounds like a great person."

"Yeah," Mav sighed. "He was."

"I'm sorry," she said, again.

Mav blinked away from the window, turning to look at her, and her guilt must have been strung across her features because he actually managed a smile at her that she didn't find hard to believe. A toothy one, a bit heavy, but nice all the same.

"Ah, it's okay kid," he said while running a hand through his short hair. "I should be saying sorry for dragging you out of bed just to talk about all of this. I'm just a little rankled. Figured if I couldn't talk to Ice or Hollywood that I might get some advice from you."

"Advice?" she laughed. "What sort of advice can I give you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. Then added with a thoughtful smile, "got any fortune cookies lying around? It doesn't exactly have to be the best advice."

Matty rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I'm all out. Does teaching really have you all hot and bothered? I thought that you've done this before."

"Ha, I did. And I barely lasted four months doing it," he told her with a sigh, but also with another, much more amused laugh. Their waitress popped by to refill their coffees and he took a long dreg of his while adding, "teaching isn't really in my bones. But, it's not just that. These kids are—"

"Idiots? Assholes? The worst of the worst?"

Maverick gave her a look. "You really need to get over your issue with pilots sometime, Mats. We're not all bad."

"Mhm. Sure."

"Besides, it's not that," he barreled on, deciding to leave that particular argument for another day. However, considering how many times her dad had argued the merits of pilots with her before without ever getting anywhere, Matty was pretty damn sure it would be a failed attempt in the future as well. "They're good pilots, good kids too. Well, most of them. Hangman is a bit of a—"

"Dick?"

He rolled his eyes, thought about it, then relented. "Yeah, alright, I'll give you that one. That kid is a bit of a dick."

"Sounds just like you," she pointed out with a toothy grin. "You ever heard of karma?"

Maverick waved her off, ignoring that thought entirely. "I just don't know how to handle everything with Rooster."

"Rooster?" she lifted a brow, much more curious now than she had been before. What issue could Maverick have with the good looking pilot from the bar? "What'd he do? He didn't hit on you too, did he?"

"No, he didn't—wait," Mav peered at her with an open mouth. "He hit on you?"

"Sure," she shrugged, finished off her coffee, and finally switched to drinking some water before she could dehydrate herself to the point of being sick. Frank would give her so much shit if she had to skip out on work again because she over-caffeinated. "Last week, at The Hard Deck. Actually, then again two days ago, when he stopped by the motorpool. Oh, thanks for that, by the way. As if I don't have enough shit to deal with as is."

She expected a witty comeback or some sly comment, but when she looked at Maverick, he was just staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

"Uh...what?"

"Mats, don't you know who that is?"

"Who Rooster? Bradley? Whatever. What's the deal?"

He shook his head in disbelief, half-laughing, half-groaning, and suddenly she felt like there was something big that she was missing.

"What?" she kicked him in the shins. "What am I missing?"

"That... that's Bradley Bradshaw. That's Goose's kid."

Oh. Shit. Yeah.

She was missing something big. Something huge, actually. Something so big that she didn't know how she could have missed it in the first place. Afterall, she had seen enough photos of the Bradshaw family growing up that she should have known, should have recognized him, but in the last couple of years Maverick had stopped talking about the family and she hadn't thought anything of it.

Not enough to ask, anyways.

"Oh," she said, again. Once more feeling like an ass who willingly put her boot into her mouth. "That's Goose's kid? Shit. I didn't..."

"Know?" He waved her off before she could start to feel even worse than she already had been feeling. "Yeah, I know. Definitely didn't think that he would end up at Top Gun or that I would be his instructor anytime soon. Maybe karma isn't completely bullshit."

She frowned, eyeing him in an entirely different light.

"So, I'm guessing from your expression that the two of you aren't exactly on the best of terms right now?"

Mav teetered his head back and forth to indicate that no, they were not on the best of terms right now. She winced. He sucked his lip between his teeth and said, "not... exactly."

"What'd you do?"

"What?" He jerked his head towards her, narrowing his eyes like a petulant child. "Why do you assume that I did something?"

She said nothing. Just gave him a look.

To which he deflated like a popped balloon. Around his cup of coffee, he mumbled, "it's complicated. But no, we're not on good terms. Let's just leave it at that."

Matty definitely did not want to leave it at that.

Not at all.

But there was something sad in Maverick's eyes and something worried in the turn of his mouth that prompted her to do so regardless of her curiosity. Afterall, he had brought her out to breakfast to talk. Probably not about everything traumatic in his life; if she had to guess, Mav just wanted a friend to talk about without having to deal with all the other stuff as well.

So, keeping that in mind, she did her best to pivot the conversation into happier territories. She could always ask him about it tomorrow.

"Well, I guess times really don't change all that much, huh?"

Maverick pinched his brows at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she shrugged with a half smile. "A Mitchell, Neven, and Bradshaw are all back in Fightertown together once again. Only difference is you're the teacher this time. Bet you never thought that would happen, did you?"

His features softened as he shook his head with a laugh. "Not exactly what I pictured way back then, no."

"Se la vie, eh?"

He rolled his eyes before asking, "does he know who you are?"

"As if," she scrunched up her nose. "I'm still pissed at him for hitting on me at the bar."

"It's not like he knew that you hate pilots," he said.

Matty stuck her nose up, declaring, "I don't hate pilots. I just don't date them. Or kiss them. And I definitely don't—"

"Dear god, kid, do not finish that sentence," he groaned while clapping his hands over his hears. She laughed in response, which had Maverick laughing too, but his cheeks were the tinniest bit pink when he told her, "I did watch you grow up, you know. This isn't the sort of thing I need to be hearing from you."

"Yeah, yeah, you're old, we get it," she rolled her eyes. "And you barely watched me grow up. We first met when I was, like, fifteen."

"I was out of the country a lot," he defended.

"Sure," she drawled, not at all believing that slap-stick of an excuse. "That's why you weren't around for the yearly reunions. It had nothing to do with the fact that you kept getting fired for doing stupid shit that Ice then had to bail you out from."

"Woah," Mav held up a single finger. "I have never been fired from anything. Just... you know, reassigned."

"Fired," she coughed into her hand. He kicked her in the shins this time, though it did nothing to wipe the smug grin off of her face.

He acted as if he hadn't heard her, barreling on. "And, for the record, despite what your dad or Ice might say, I don't do stupid shit either."

"Sure, Mav, sure."

"I'm a teacher now, kid. I only do responsible, safe things."

Matty laughed at how absolutely absurd that was. Maverick had to look away so that he didn't laugh too because, yeah, that was a whole load of horseshit and he knew it. They both knew it. And she would be surprised if everyone on this side of the coast didn't know it too. There wasn't a bone in Maverick's body that intended to play by the rules or do anything the safe way.

Which reminded her...

"Speaking of you being a dumb asshole," she touted, grinning at the way that he rolled his eyes at her but didn't bother argue, "a little birdy told me that you've been spending some time making heart eyes at Penny."

"A little birdy, huh?"

She shrugged. "A reliable source."

"So... Amelia."

Fuck. Yeah. Amelia.

"No," Matty kept on going, though Mav obviously didn't believe her. "Maybe. It doesn't matter. What's up with you two?"

"Nothing."

"You're a horrible liar."

"We're just old friends," he argued. "Penny made it clear that we aren't starting up again."

"Ah, so you did want to."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't not say that," she pointed out, provoking a groan from Maverick.

"Christ," he crossed one arm over the other. "You're just as nosy as Hollywood, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all that," she told him flippantly while waving her empty coffee cup around in the air. "So? Are you gonna ask her out on a date?"

"I'm not talking about my dating life with you, kid," he deadpanned.

Matty took that in stride. "Sure, sure. But you brought me out for breakfast to talk, so that means the options are either Ice, Bradshaw, or Penny. Your choice old man."

The look returned. The one that meant he was absolutely going to kick her ass the first chance he got, but not right now in this moment because it wouldn't be appropriate. And at that she grinned. Especially when he sighed because she knew that meant she had won. And he did too.

So, as their waitress brought out their food, Maverick explained what was going on with him and Penny. It took a while, too, considering how long and intertwined their history was. And the longer he talked, the more Matty laughed, and the less weight that seemed to sit on Maverick's shoulders.

And so, sure, Matty liked her routine.

But somedays a routine was meant to be broken, just like the sun was meant to be beat.

Who needed sleep when this was the alternative?

---

Matty thought about what Maverick said for the rest of the day. Thought about how Bradley wasn't just some nameless pilot hitting on her in a crowded bar but the Bradshaw legacy who she had been hearing about her entire childhood. She thought about how sad Maverick had been when he talked about their failed relationship, how anxious he was to figure out how to make it right, how distraught he was about Ice's diagnosis, and how much he was dealing with at the moment.

Even though her and Mav weren't exactly close growing up—he had been gone for most of her childhood, while Ice had been at every birthday party, graduation, and enlistment ceremony—but in the later years when he was stateside he had made an effort to keep in touch. And though they weren't the best of friends, he was still a family friend that her dad talked to often. And he was still someone she cared for.

Meaning when she saw how upset everything was making him, she wished that there was something she could do to help.

And while she couldn't train the pilots or cure disease, she could try to be a little bit nicer to Rooster.

Which meant swallowing her pride.

And... Fuck.

She really hated swallowing her pride.

“The fuck are you still doin’ here?” Boomer asked while scrubbing his hands clean of oil with a dirty rag. It didn’t help all that much, but he didn’t care all that much either. Just kept cleaning his hands as he stared down at Matty, towering over her in a heap of muscle and sweat as she worked on her last task of the day. “I though’ you woulda’ been gone by now.”

“I wanted to finish this first.”

He nodded. Then, as if not really understanding, asked, “why?”

Matty sighed.

Nothing was ever easy when it came to Boomer.

“I want to finish what’s on the docket for today before clocking out so I can get to Bradley’s jet in the morning.”

“Ah,” he nodded again. Then, this time with more of a confused look, asked, “why?”

“Gee, Booms, is there an echo in here all of the sudden or something?” she rolled her eyes irritably while cranking the bolts as tight as she could. “He wanted me to get it done before the weekend, so this way I can at least finish it before they start exercises tomorrow.”

Boomer stopped wiping his hands to cross one arm over the other, face split in half between incredulity and blatant disbelief. “And since when do you care about doin’ any favors for the flyboys? Though’ you would rather cut off your own arm than do them anything.”

“Technically, it is our job, you know.”

“Yeah, so is the rest of this shit,” he gestured to the motorpool around them; planes and helicopters sat abandoned left and right, leaving the entire garage to seem more chaotic than anything else. But the mechanics would argue that there was a system to the madness. Even if no one else understood it. “The docket is there for a reason. We get to it when we get to it.”

“And I’m finishing this so I can get to it sooner,” she huffed. Boomer was one of her good friends from the base but fuck could he be a broken record sometimes. Especially when he caught a whiff of something that he could relentlessly tease her about—something like helping out a pilot who wanted a fucking tune up of all things. “Why do you care, anyways? The more work that I do means the less for you to finish before the weekend.”

He considered that. Then shrugged.

“Alright, alright, fair enough. Still,” he added, toeing her with his boot just hard enough that she had to swat his shin so that he didn’t knock her onto her ass. “Not like you to give a shit about any of these boys.”

“Don’t get too excited, Booms. Sometimes it’s just easier to do it then give them grief.”

“Ha! Since when? What’s so special about this particular one?”

“Calm down,” she glared. “He’s still a flyboy that hit on me. Not exactly friendship material.”

“And yet you’re still stripping nuts for him,” Boomer grinned toothily. “You stripping anything else for him, Mats, or—ow!”

Boomer hopped a foot back with a grimace, glaring at Matty for the hard smack to the leg she had given him with her favorite wrench. It would definitely bruise, but she hadn’t hit hard enough to break anything.

This time, anyways.

Knowing this, he rubbed his leg sorely with a sharp glare in her direction. “Shit, you’re a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

“Only when warranted.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes. Matty grinned at having effectively knocked his ego down a peg, and in return, Boomer muttered something under his breath that would definitely have earned him a broken nose if he had said it loud enough for her to hear. “Does this mean you’re not coming to dinner tonight?”

“What’s dinner tonight?”

“I’m grilling steak.”

She scrunched up her nose. “No, Booms. In fact, even if I wasn’t busy finishing up your work, I wouldn’t be coming to dinner tonight.”

“Oi! I’m a good cook.”

“Your steaks are always raw.”

“Exactly,” he tutted, arms crossed tightly over his chest once more. This time, she wondered if she actually did manage to offend him. There was a lot of things that set the Aussie off; insulting his cooking skills was bound to be one of them. “Everything is burnt here in the states. Meat is supposed to be a little bloody. Where the hell is the flavor if it isn’t?”

And, as Boomer huffed and puffed a little bit, Matty realized that she had annoyed him into a bad mood. Which sucked because when Booms was in a bad mood, he was way less likely to do her a favor when she wanted one.

Sighing, she stood from her crouched position, and gave him a placating look. “Alright, fine. I’ll stop by when I finished this. Shouldn’t take longer than an hour. What beer do you want me to bring?”

He ground his jaw a little, before giving in. “Bring some Red Stripe.”

“Red Stripe,” she nodded, just barely managing to hide her distaste for that particular type of beer. “Got it.”

“And some limes.”

“And some chips.”

Matty sighed. “Okay. I’ll grab some potato chips on my way over.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased, and tossed his rag into the dirty pile in the corner before striding out. Matty thought that was that, but he paused in the door for a moment before glancing back at her. “Oi. Bring some ice, too, won’t ya?”

She rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with grease covered fingers.

This is why she didn’t do favors for pilots. It also ended up costing her more.

“Alright, Booms. I’ll bring some ice too,” she said in a defeated tone. He grinned upon hearing it, a toothy smile that seemed a little more troublesome than she liked to see from him because it meant that he was gonna do something stupid sooner or later.

“You better not bring your flyboy with you,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Matty gaped. Then she glared at his retreating figure, and shouted, “he’s not my flyboy!”

Boomer pretended not to hear her. Just whistled all the way to his truck before piling in and pulling out of the parking lot. She glared at that too, though it didn’t do much other than give her a headache.

In response, Matty stepped back into the garage to glance over the mess that she had made with a wary eye. She hadn’t told Boomer this, but it would definitely take her longer than an hour to finish this repair, clean everything up, and then clean herself up enough to be presentable for a cookout.

“This is why we have rules, Matty,” she mumbled to herself, cracking her neck before stooping back down beneath the machine. “Pilots just aren’t worth the trouble.”

But, as she dove back into her work, she thought about Maverick and Iceman and Hollywood and even the stories she had heard about Goose.

Maybe some pilots were worth the trouble, she amended thoughtfully. But that sure as hell didn’t mean that she needed to add another one to the list. Especially not when he had a smile like Rooster did.

---

An hour passed as Matty worked to the tune of her own wrench and some warbled music from one of the local radio stations. Her arms were sore, back too from always being bent over, but she didn’t mind the work. It was nice to have some time alone to get work done without other people pestering her about countless things; even nicer to be proud of fixing something that was worth millions of dollars seeing as how she would never have the pleasure of enjoying that sort of money in her lifetime.

So, one hour went by.

Then a second.

Then some minutes passed by unnoticed by her, until the sun was finally beginning to set on the horizon with a smear of reddish-pink hues across the sky. A pretty sight that Matty might have noticed if she wasn’t so focused on the last few adjustments to Bradley’s jet because, ok—so maybe she had gotten a little ahead of herself, gotten a little drawn into the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the empty motorpool, and maybe she had accidentally started working on it with the idea that she could finish the rest tomorrow.

The problem?

Well, when Matty started something she couldn’t just walk away until it was finished. Something her dad was often proud of. Something that she often hated about herself because it put her in situations like this.

Where her phone was ringing shrilly in the quiet motorpool, echoing above the radio and her whistling, until it was the only thing she could hear. So, she did what she always did, and pulled it out of her back pocket without looking.

Then she was stuffing it between her shoulder and her ear, offering a friendly chirp of, “hello?” without much forethought.

And, fuck.

She really hated herself sometimes.

“Neven, I swear to god, where the fuck are you?” Frank’s boisterous voice boomed in her ear. She winced, quickly pulling the phone away before he shattered her eardrum, but even then she could still hear his grumbling across the line. “Boomer is shitting bricks. He said you were coming. Everybody is waiting on you to show up so that he’ll fuckin’ calm down.”

“What? But I am coming!” she cried, hands thrown up, nuts and bolts clattering on the concrete floor when she accidentally dropped them. “I swear. I’m almost done.”

“Almost done what? Walking paint dry?”

“It’s not that late,” she touted. “It’s only—”

Matty swung her head to glance at the clock—a blocky piece of scrap metal that had been hanging sideways on the wall since she had got stationed in Fightertown—and it took her a second to read it clearly.

“Oh,” she paused. Then she glanced out at the darkening sky. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit! We’ve been waiting for you for almost three hours now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You were supposed to bring the chips and limes!”

“I’m sorry! I just–I started something new and then got distracted and, well, you know how I get when I start something and I can’t—”

“You’re fuckin’ dead, I swear. Why the hell did you start something new this late in the evening? Christ. Boomer is gonna kill you, Mats,” he groaned; she could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose from his spot on the sunken in couch on Boomer’s back porch almost as much as she could picture Boomer huffing and puffing over the fact that she was late to his cookout. “Like actually kill you this time. Strangling, probably. Bludgeoning maybe, depending on how drunk he is when you get here.”

“But you won’t let him, right?”

Frank was silent for a moment before giving a slow, drawn out, “...right.”

“Oh, great; well, that’s comforting,” Matty deadpanned. “A lot of help you are. Thanks for being my best friend and all that.”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to show up late even though you know how he gets about his cookouts. If you die doing stupid shit, that ain’t on me.”

“I’m not–argh! I’m coming!” she groaned.

Frank tutted into her ear, clearly not believing her, and that sent Matty scrambling around her workspace as she tried to clean everything up as quickly as she could without breaking any workplace violations.

“You better bring a shit ton of beer when you do come,” Frank told her. She almost told him to piss off, but... well, bringing a shit ton of beer probably was the best thing she could do to make her tardiness up to Boomer. “And ice.”

“I know, I know. And chips,” she grumbled while mentally calculating how fast she would have to drive to get everything on the list if she wanted to make it to Boomer’s place by sunset. “You think he’ll forgive me if I give him a kiss?”

Frank snorted. “You got a real ego, you know that, Neven? Your kisses ain’t worth shit.”

“As if you’d even know,” she snarked.

“I’m seen you kiss enough boys at the bar,” Frank shot back. He sounded much more amused right now, and Matty wondered if that’s because he was going to enjoy watching her get her ass beaten or because he was several beers into the night already. “It’s disgusting. Too much saliva, you know. There is such a thing as being a sloppy kisser.”

Matty paused, hands on her hips. “Um, never say that again.”

He snorted.

“Just–ugh,” she paused once again, this time to pinch the bridge of her nose irritably. If she didn’t have the time to hang around the motorpool to properly store everything away, she definitely didn’t have the time to argue about her kissing skills with Frank of all people. “I hate you so much. Shut up, would you? I’m coming.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Frank hummed, and as Matty slammed the drawers shut to her workbench, she could hear him shouting at Nick and George. “—hey! You two idiots better not fuckin’ dent my car with those horseshoes. I swear to god I’ll kick your asses if you do!”

She pictured the pair playing stupid, whining about how they would never do such a thing or touting their skills at the game in question; she loved them both, but really, when those boys were together they practically shared a single brain cell that didn’t work all that fast or well. She smiled at the thought. But then she pictured Boomer yelling at her, and realized that she should really be moving if she wanted to stay friends with him.

“Ok, ok,” she huffed into the phone, almost finished cleaning everything up now. “I’m coming. I’ll be there in twenty, promise.”

“You want to put money on that?”

“Wow. Refusing to keep Boomer from killing me and trying to rob me of my hard earned money. You’re a shit best friend, Frank.”

“So... that’s a no?”

Matty rolled her eyes and hung up the phone; mentally, she put smacking the shit out of Frank on the top of her to-do list, right below making Boomer love her again. Even though he was her best friend, more often than not, Frank would provoke fights and talk shit just because... well, because he was a total dick.

Still.

She could lecture him about the merits of friendship later. Later like when she was at the cookout with everything Boomer asked her to bring in hand, decidedly not being strangled to death or bludgeoned by a broken tv remote.

Locking everything up, Matty grabbed her bag, snagged her keys off the rack, and tore off towards the parking lot. The sky was a painting of pastel hues now, something that was both beautiful and anxiety inducing to see when she considered how much she had to do in a very short amount of time.

In fact, it was such a short amount of time that she didn’t even take a second glance at the bronco sitting in the parking spot beside her or at the man that was casually packing the back of it with some beer or the way that he stared at her over the low rims of his aviators as she threw everything she could into the back of her much dirtier, much older jeep.

Didn’t even notice him until he leant an arm onto the back of his vehicle with a quirked brow and said, “someone’s in a hurry.”

Matty screamed and almost threw her phone.

Thankfully, she didn’t. Her phone was about one drop away from being beyond repair. Still, when she turned—hand clutching at her chest in surprise—she almost throttled it at Bradley when she took note of the amused smile curling his lips.

“Christ, Bradshaw,” she groused, “what the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?”

“Not exactly the plan, no,” he chirped. She calmed down a little, but didn’t particularly enjoy the amusement in his tone, and so Matty was quick to cross her arms tightly over her chest while giving him her best unamused face. And damn if it didn’t provoke his smile a little bit bigger. “I was standing here the whole time, you know. You’re the one freaking out over nothing.”

“I didn’t freak out.”

Over the top rim of his sunglasses, she watched his dark eyes flicker from her tight stance to her stern face. “Sure. Of course you didn’t.”

Matty rolled her eyes, but did try to relax a little bit against her jeep.

“What were you doing, anyways?” she asked. And, yeah, maybe her tone was a little bit defensive and borderline aggressive, but that was more because she could still feel her heart racing in her chest and less because of the way he smiled at her.

“On base or in the state?” he chirped a bit sarcastically, a bit friendly.

Which... was a nice surprise, if she were being honest.

The last two times they had talked she had effectively handing his ass back to him while instructing him to fuck off. But here he was acting as if that hadn’t happened, smiling at her as if they were friends, teasing her as if he didn’t actually hate her for kicking him out of her motorpool. Part of her wondered why he would even bother with her a third time; part of her knew not to ask questions that she didn’t want the answers to.

So, Matty just rolled her eyes with a snort, and said, “on base. Don’t most the boys go out for drinks the second exercises are done with?”

He shrugged, scoffing with a distasteful curl of the lips.

Matty wondered what could have happened to cause tension between him and the other pilots. Then she remembered that he was a pilot—tension and big egos were the only thing in the profession.

“Some of them went to the Hard Deck,” he told her. Then, when she continued to stare, he shrugged once more and added, “I stuck behind to work out. Think I’m gonna go to the beach instead, maybe watch the sunset with some beer.”

Matty almost laughed at how he spent his entire day practicing to be better, running through exercises, and never relaxing only to then actively spend more time working out as if it wasn’t his literal job to be in shape. But then that line of thinking turned a little too dangerous as she subconsciously glanced down at his broad chest, chiseled arms that were poking out of a silky Hawaiian shirt, and thick legs that were fitting snugly in his jeans, and she had to force herself to look away before she could do something stupid like blush.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “not making friends with the other pilots, Bradshaw? I’m sure they’re heartbroken.”

He rolled his eyes as well, but snorted all the same. “Yeah, something like that. I mean, you have met some of them, right?”

She curled a brow in amusement. “I actively avoid meeting pilots.”

He sank back onto his heels as if he was only just remembering that little rule of hers, though she knew from the gleam of his eyes that he hadn’t forgotten their first meeting. “Ah, I almost forgot. Something about the egos?”

“Yeah, something like that,” she quoted him, smiling when he smiled. And damn if his smile didn’t look really fucking good on his face; the way it lit up his features and caught the afterglow of the sunset and seemed to really humanize someone that she had heard so much about lately but knew so little of. “Give it another week and let me know if you agree.”

“Agree that pilots are the worst?”

“I didn’t say that,” she chided. But, then when she considered it, she realized she hadn’t not said it either. “I just... you know, tend to keep my distance. Everyone does though.”

“Everyone?”

“You know; mechanics and pilots. It’s sort of a thing.”

He curled a brow. “Is it? I don’t think it is. I feel like you just made that up.”

Matty rolled her eyes. They both knew what she was talking about. Although pilots and mechanics relied very heavily on one another for things to run smoothly, there was always a disconnect between the two pools of soldiers that typically left much to be desired.

Bradley knew that just as much as she did and when Matty curled an expectant brow at him, he even relented. “Yeah, alright, whatever. Not all of us are that bad.”

“Says the man who is going to drink on the beach alone rather than go with the other pilots to the bar.”

“I–” he started, then paused. Matty knew she had him there and let a victorious smile crack across her features. When Bradley saw it, she watched his sheepishly scratch at the back of his neck, before glancing away at the sunset. “Point taken.”

She harrumphed.

He scoffed and settled back onto his heels; smiling the entire time, though.

“Right, well, listen,” Bradley started. “I know how you feel about pilots and everything, but I’ve got plenty of beer if you want to—”

Matty’s phone started ringing, cutting Bradley off from whatever he was about to say, and when she saw that Frank was calling her once again, she realized what she was meant to be doing at the moment.

Ie breaking the speed limit while trying to find enough beer, limes, chips, and ice to make Boomer love her again.

“Shit!”

Bradley curled a brow at her. “Problem?”

“I’m so, so, so late that it’s not even funny anymore,” she told him while hitting the decline button on her phone. The last thing she needed was to hear a drunken Frank yelling at her once again.

“Yeah, I meant to ask about that. Why are you still here? I thought all the nics left a while ago.”

“Oh, they did,” she said while trying to find her wallet amongst her scattered things in the back seat. Maybe chucking everything into a heap hadn’t been the best plan. “I stuck around to finish up the docket and lost track of time.”

“Ah, the infamous docket. Well, I’m glad to see that you at least one mechanic around here does work on it,” he said. When Matty paused long enough to glance at him over her shoulder, Bradley winced. Then he cleared his throat with a smile. “I’m, uh, kidding. It was a joke.”

“Oh,” Matty blinked. Then, when she realized how absurd the entire thing was, she let herself laugh about it. Bradley laughed too, relaxing when he was sure she hadn’t taken offense to the entire thing. She even shot him a cheeky grin and said, “sorry. Guess I’m not used to pilots with a sense of humor. I didn’t realize you guys even knew what a joke was.”

He snorted. “Man. You mechanics are mean. Maybe I’m starting to understand why we don’t hang out together.”

She laughed as she finally found her wallet amongst the chaos, and when she retracted from her back seat, she found Bradley grinning down at her. It was almost... nice.

Having an inside joke with a pilot, being able to tease each other without feeling like they were actually trading insults rather than jokes, maybe even getting along with someone that wasn’t in her pool.

Maybe that’s why she said, “well, before you go tell everyone that we don’t do our jobs, I finished your jet tonight.”

“Really?” Bradley asked in surprise. Clearly, that’s not what he thought she was going to say. “That’s why you’re here so late.”

“Sorta.”

“Sorta?”

Matty sighed, glanced at her phone, then figured another thirty seconds wouldn’t piss Boomer off anymore than three hours already did. Shrugging, she told him, “I didn’t mean to start it until the morning, but I thought it would be quick, and when I started—”

“You couldn’t stop,” he nodded, as if he understood exactly what she was trying to say.

“And now I’m gonna hear it from Boomer for the rest of the night.”

“Boomer is...?”

“The Aussie,” she told him. He thought about it before nodding. “Yeah, pretty fitting name considering he can’t ever talk at a normal volume.”

“Was he the one that hustled me and Bob out of two hundred bucks at the bar?”

“Sorry?”

He looked at her, then shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She grinned, tongue in cheek. “No, I’m really not. I like to think of it as karma for everything else.”

Bradley winced, scratching the back of his neck with a pink blush. “About that—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, no, not really,” she settled her back against her jeep, quirking a smile when he furrowed his brows at her quick contradiction. She shrugged under his gaze. “I know how to do my job without people like you coming into my motorpool to tell me about it, but I get that you’re not here long so it must be frustrating to have to wait for a fix. Although, if you ever try that again...”

“I won’t,” he shook his head.

And, oddly enough, she believed him.

Imagine that.

Matty Neven believing the promise of a pilot. One that she hardly knew, at that. Her dad would be having a field day if he could hear this conversation.

Hell, Maverick was gonna have a field day when he heard about this.

She decided right then and there to never tell Maverick about any of this.

“And I am sorry about, well...” Bradley tugged his lip between his teeth nervously. It was almost cute. “I didn’t mean to insult you. And I didn’t mean to upset you at the bar. I just thought you were, you know, gorgeous... Still think that, actually, but I didn’t realize it would be a whole big thing.”

Matty grinned. Then, when she realized she was smiling like an idiot, she tried to settle it into something a little more appropriate and a little less pre-teen girl getting hit on. What she managed was something between a grimace and a smile with a smattering of pink blush across her cheekbones.

She would blame it on the sunset if anyone ever asked.

“Well, now you know,” she told him simply. He didn’t take offense to that, and she thought that was good because if they got along this well all the time, she might have to remind herself of that particular rule more often than not so she didn’t do anything stupid. “I don’t date pilots. No hard feelings about it. It’s not like you were a total asshat like some pilots are. A low bar, but, ya know.”

Bradley laughed. It was a deep sound that echoed from the depths of his chest, but it was surprisingly warm and playful. Later that night she would wonder why she even noticed something as mundane as that, but at that moment, her phone started ringing again and she realized once more that—fuck—Boomer actually was gonna kill her.

“Shit,” she groaned before swinging her door open. “Sorry, I really have to go.”

“Hot date?” he asked.

Matty huffed. If only he knew how few times she had one of those.

“More like a group of mechanics that were expecting me three hours ago,” she chirped while climbing into her seat. She started her car as Bradley shut the door for her, and with her window panes removed from the jeep, he was able to lean on the door with a crooked smile.

“You’re showing up late to a party just because of me?” he asked, and, god, the way he joked around with her was definitely something she would have to be wary of. Because despite everything she might actually like it. “That’s awfully nice for someone that doesn’t like flyboys.”

“Hm. Have I ever mentioned that pilots tend to have egos?”

He shrugged as if he couldn’t remember. “Once or twice, maybe.”

Matty laughed with the shake of her head while swiftly sending a text to Frank rather than answering his call so she could get yelled at again. “How many times should I tell you before it sticks?”

“I don’t know,” he whistled, pulling his lip between his teeth with a thoughtful tilt of the head. “How many times do I have to ask to buy you a drink before you say yes?”

“At least once more.”

He smiled. “Then you’ll probably have to tell me at least once more that you don’t date flyboys.”

Matty tried not to smile at that; tried not to enjoy the smoothness of his voice or the warmth of his smile. But... well, fuck, if that wasn’t a difficult ask when he was standing so close, looking so good, speaking like that.

Somehow, she managed.

“Bradshaw, I don’t let pilots buy me alcohol.”

“Not even as a thank you for helping me out?” he asked. Then, when her phone started buzzing again, he amended, “or to make up for all the shit you’re gonna get tonight from your friends?”

“Tempting,” and god was it, but thankfully Matty managed to keep her wits about her while shooting another text back to Frank. “But no.”

“Not even if it’s tequila?”

Matty shook her head with a snort, before none-too-gently shoving him off of her door frame. He didn’t mind. Just smiled as he settled back against the clean, crisp paint of his own vehicle.

“Bye, Bradley,” she said.

“See you around, Matty,” he grinned.

She threw her jeep into drive as her phone started to ring again, and as she finally peeled out of the parking lot, Matty couldn’t help but snag one last glimpse of Bradley in her rearview mirror. He was still watching her, a gentle smile on his face as he shook his head—at himself, at her, she would never really know—and she had to force herself to look away.

She was still smiling when she did so, and as she pulled off base, Matty was pretty sure that her cheeks were still tinted pink from it.

She would think about that some other time.

Right now, she needed to buy a shit ton of beer, limes, chips, and ice.

And when Matty showed up to work the next day to find a large cup of hot coffee on her desk with a small sticky note attached to it that included nothing other than a smiley face and her name scribbled in neat cursive—well, fuck, she didn’t get all that mad that Bradshaw had managed to find a way around her rules. Because he had, hadn’t he?

She had said that she didn’t let pilots buy her alcohol. Coffee wasn’t that. And it’s not like she had let him buy her a drink. He had done that all on his own.

So, really, she wasn’t breaking her own rules at all.

Right?

*** taglist (thanks for asking!) @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @olivethenerd16 @alanadetigy @the-winter-marvel33 @hiddleless @momc95

guys i am so sorry it took so long to produce! my life has been a fast moving hellscape lately with 2 weddings of which i was the wedding planner and maid of honor for one, an 18 hour car ride during which my car broke down and i got a ticket, and starting a new semester of grad school.

the good news is i am back on a normal schedule, and plan to post chapters to this fic every sunday until its finished! thank you for reading!

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #fanfiction #heart mechanics #more to come

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