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desert-fern · 7 months

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Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve had Rooster’s eye since he first met you, the only problem? You were in a relationship. But when you come to the Hard Deck newly single, looking to have a good time, your ex reappears. Things get heated, what’s a man to do other than shoot his shot (and maybe throw a few punches)?

Warnings: swearing, cheating (not from our main characters), confrontation about cheating, physical fights (it is a bar fight after all), reader is a quippy little shit. Lmk if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: hey all! Welcome to my second ever Rooster oneshot and my entry for @roosterforme’s Rocktober event! This piece is inspired by Van Halen’s Jump and is my excuse to write a bar fight.

===

Friday nights out with Mason sucked. Well, the drinks were always good at the Hard Deck, the other Navy men who frequented on Fridays were very pleasing to look at, the only shitty thing was, well, Mason. He would ditch you multiple times throughout the night, spending hours chatting with people he saw at work all day while you sat awkwardly in your seat people-watching.

Needless to say, you didn’t like those Friday nights very much. The nights where it was just the two of you were wonderful; you had his undivided attention and it was just easy. Your boyfriend would be all over you, smothering you with affection and it was so unlike the pilot you had come to know.

Mason just became a completely different person when he went out to the Navy bars with you. Maybe it was your fault, you weren’t really the kind of person who liked going out, so you couldn’t really blame him if he ditched you.

That was reasonable right?

Those were your thoughts as you sat at the bar, sipping on your water watching Mason and his group of friends chat with a group of girls. “You doing okay?” A voice next to you asked.

You turned, catching sight of what was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen. Tall with tan skin just the right side of sunburnt, his whiskey coloured eyes were watching you over a pair of aviators perched on the edge of his nose. You swallowed, watching as his biceps moved, straining against the white and yellow printed Hawaiian shirt. “Yeah,” you croaked out, wincing at the sound. “Uh, yes. I’m alright, thanks.”

He smiled at you, his mustache crinkling just a little and you had to take a sip of your drink to try and keep your composure. “Glad to hear it. I’m Bradley, most people around here call me Rooster though.”

“Good to meet you, Bradley,” you replied, smiling back at him. You introduced yourself and couldn’t help but grin when he repeated your name back to you, loving the way it rolled off his tongue.

“Are you here with anyone?”

You nodded, smiling sadly. “I am. My boyfriend is over- well he was over there. I don’t know where he went,” you said after a minute. “But I don’t mind a little conversation.”

Bradley grinned. “Glad to hear it. So, at the risk of sounding like a sleaze, you come here often?” You could hear the humour in his tone and it made you laugh.

“I do, but it’s really not my scene.”

“Not a fan of the Navy?”

You shook your head. “That’s not it, my boyfriend is a pilot for the Navy. I’m just not really one for crowds,” you admitted. Your job as a nurse brought you close to a lot of people and sometimes, all you wanted was just to cuddle up on the couch with Mason and watch a movie. However, your boyfriend was much more of a social butterfly than you were and you often went along with what he wanted for the sake of not arguing.

But Friday nights were ‘for the boys’ so you often got dragged along to the bar whether or not you wanted to go.

“Did you want to step outside? I’d hate for my gorgeous but taken conversation partner to be uncomfortable,” Bradley said, shooting you a sly wink that had warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“Does that line often work for you?” You teased, enjoying how his blush grew.

He took a swig of his beer, rolling the bottle between his palms on the bar top before replying. “Wasn’t a line, sweetheart. You’re taken, but I can’t understand how he could so easily leave someone like you sitting all alone.”

You had to bite your lip to stifle the grin that threatened to grow larger the longer you sat chatting with Bradley. A reply was half way out of your mouth when a hand gripped your arm and you heard Mason’s voice next to your head. “Piss off Bradshaw, she’s taken.”

��Maso-” you started, but Bradley took a step back from you. You hadn’t noticed how close the two of you had been, practically sharing the same breath, but now, it was like someone had doused you with ice cold water. “We were just-”

“I don’t care,” your boyfriend growled. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Why?” You demanded. “You fucking ditch me at the bar YOU wanted to go to and expect me to not talk to anyone? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Cannon…” Bradley muttered. “Of fucking course.”

Mason turned to look at you and you had never seen this kind of look in his eyes before. He looked dangerous, a wildness seemed to have taken over his entire being and you were scared. “Don’t embarrass me,” he hissed softly, his grip tightening around your arm.

Bradley must have seen the look of shock in your eyes because he stepped in. “Cannon, man, we were just talking. Let her go.”

Your arm was released and you finally took notice of his dishevelled appearance, a stone plunging your stomach down, down, down. You had known. Smelt the perfume that was not yours, you never wore it because Mason had claimed it gave him a headache. You had turned a blind eye to the random scratches, the strange bruises, even the lipstick on his shirts. You had willingly chosen to push your doubts aside for the sake of living the same boring life you had lived for the better part of two years.

But not anymore.

Pushing your doubt down, you let him lead you out of the bar, making the short trip to your car. You drove in a stony silence, ignoring every criticism Mason threw your way. But you said nothing, at this moment, you weren’t his girlfriend but his DD, and you thought long and hard about what you wanted from your life. If you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t Mason.

You wanted the simple life you had before he’d stumbled into your life with all the grace of a drunk elephant, a fairly apt description for Mason as a person.

He had made it fucking transparent that the last two years were a waste of your time. Mason’s friend, Max or Nuke as he was known to your boyfriend, lived a few blocks away from the bar, it was his house where you dropped him off, all but pushing him out of the car. “Don’t call me,” you snapped, watching his face go from confused to angry. “We’re done. I’m bringing your shit here tomorrow.”

The drive back to your place was strangely quiet. No drunk ranting, no criticising your shyness in the bar, none of that. It was like you pulled the bag off your head, unknowing that it was suffocating you and now you were finally breathing fresh air again. You thought back to Bradley, his strong arms, the ease with which he’d carried himself and the pink hue of his cheeks when you’d teased him back.

He was different.

And maybe you deserved different, but maybe that was your newly-single brain getting ahead of itself. All you knew is that your heart felt lighter as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, it was freeing and constricting all at once.

Inside, you ignored your phone buzzing incessantly. You plugged your phone in, ignoring the flash of angry messages that appeared as quickly as you could blink. You groaned, watching as Mason’s name popped up on your phone, this time calling you, but it disappeared just as fast, clearly he hadn’t meant to call you. It took less than 10 seconds for you to power your phone off, the screen going black as your eyes finally gained a reprieve from the onslaught of angry, hateful messages directed at you.

Mason could sober up before you had any type of conversation with him, not that you would be doing so for a long time, but still. He ran a short fuse, blowing up so quickly over the smallest things. You figured you were saving yourself the headache of not engaging, so you began to grab his things, throwing them in a pile in the living room.

Somewhere between cleaning out his clothes and throwing his knick knacks into the living room, you felt a tear run down your cheek. “He doesn’t deserve these tears,” you muttered angrily, swiping them away. “He didn’t deserve you.”

===

A few months later, you let your friend and coworker bully you into going out with her. You had often told Blair about your people watching at the Navy Bar and it had only taken one mention of it from you and she had been obsessed with the idea.

Now that you were single, for a whole three months, as Blair had ever so helpfully pointed out, she had decided that it was time for you to get back out there.

So here she was standing in your bedroom, clothing scattered around her as she pulled shirt after dress out of your closet. “Why have I never seen any of these before?! This shirt would look so hot on you!”

Shaking your head, you had to say that you didn’t know. “I just never felt comfortable wearing it around Mason’s friends and-”

“And you two never went out without at least one of his douchey friends.” Blair finished for you, giving you a look. “I swear, hon, his cock must have been huge for you to put up with his BS for as long as you did.”

You snorted. “That’s the sad part…”

“No! He was a fuckhead who cheated, a selfish bastard, and he had a micropeen?!” Blair exclaimed, whirling around to look at you. “Why were you with him to begin with? And don’t say that he was different when you first met. Mason wasn’t smart enough to hide all of that.”

The room was silent for a beat before the both of you burst into laughter. “I don’t even know why I said yes when he asked me out!”

“Girl! Me neither!”

You’d doubled over, clutching at your stomach as you laughed. It had morphed into a cackle of a sound, filling the room with raucous noise that had Blair laughing harder.

Tears streamed down your faces as you both tried your hardest to calm your breathing. “Here,” Blair said breathlessly. “Wear this.” She threw a pair of tight, high waisted blue denim shorts at you, a pair that you had bought once and quickly forgot about. Which was a shame, because these shorts in particular had two star-shaped cutouts filled in with red fabric on the ass.

You paled a little, thinking about what would happen if Mason had seen these shorts. “You broke up with him,” the little voice in your head chided. “Who gives a shit what Mason would’ve thought. You’d look hot.” So you grabbed them and a black tank top, changing quickly before Blair wrangled you into getting your makeup done.

The little voice in your head had been right, you did look hot. You could feel eyes on you from the moment you and Blair walked into the Hard Deck and while you wanted to run and hide, the thought of proving Mason wrong kept you motivated to at least have some semblance of fun. And that’s exactly what you did. You found yourself chatting up at the bar with another aviator who’d introduced himself as Fanboy. “You look familiar,” he’d said when he came up to the bar to buy another round for his group in the back of the room.

“She used to come here with her ex-boyfriend,” Blair chimed in, shooting you a wink before she slipped away to join the crowd around what looked like an intense darts game.

Fanboy - Mickey - had paused a little at her words before turning back to you. He’d asked you about your job, seeming very interested when you took the time to explain what you did. It was one of the best conversations you’d had in a while, both parties very interested in what the other had to say.

You didn’t know how long you’d been chatting when a dark haired woman in jeans and a plain t-shirt appeared by Mickey’s side. “So this is where our drinks went,” she teased, watching you both flush. “Why don’t you invite her over to the table, that way Jake stops whining about a pretty redhead picking Javy over him.”

He turned back to you. “Did you want to come hang with the rest of the group?” You must have hesitated because he quickly backtracked. “Or I can go run these over to them and I’ll come back.”

“No, it’s fine. Lead the way,” you told him, grabbing your drink. “Who picked this song?” You mumbled under your breath, wrinkling your nose at the Motley Crüe song blaring out of the juke box set against the side of the bar.

The woman snorted. “That would be Jake. Tall, blonde, dumb as he is tall. I’m sure you know the type.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded. “Though if he’s a pilot like most of the people here, he can’t be that dumb.”

“Only when it comes to emotions.”

Ahh. One of those. You wove through the crowd, dodging groups of college aged girls all trying their hand at snaring a Navy man for a night.

Mickey stopped, dropping the drinks on a table nearby. “Finally! What took you so long, Nerd-Boy?” A tall Black man chided teasingly.

“Shut it, Lay-Back,” Mickey quipped back and you had to bite your cheek to hide your laugh at the banter that erupted on your arrival. “I was preoccupied.”

The woman behind you snagged a beer and flopped onto a stool near the edge of the pool table. “Guys come on. If you keep this up, he’ll never be post-occupied.”

“Nix c’mon!”

“That was awful.”

You watched their joking with interest, keen on figuring out their dynamic. No one seemed to act better than anyone else, namely the pilots who you learned were Phoenix, Payback, Coyote (or Javy to Blair who was leaning against his chest), and then Hangman AKA the ‘dumb as he is tall’ Jake. It was refreshing to see a group of people who had the same job as Nathan and his asshole friends, but who were the most welcoming people you’d met in a while.

“So,” Payback said, turning the conversation away from that morning’s hop. “What possessed you to follow Fanboy of all people?”

You swallowed harshly, feeling their attention turn to you. “He actually asked me questions about myself rather than try and slide into my shorts for a night.”

A few “ooohs” rose out of the crowd, the pilots around you chuckling at how quickly you’d lambasted Payback for his bad question. You just shrugged and took a sip of your drink, ignoring the little whoop Blair had let out.

“Well, well, well,” Jake suddenly said, smirking at something behind you. “Looks like Birdbrain finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

You turned and nearly gasped. The man behind you gave you a crooked smile before replying. “I was a little busy.”

“Rooster,” you breathed, finding yourself suddenly very shy. He looked the same as he did the night you had met, maybe better because now you were single, but regardless. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He was watching you closely, brown eyes flicking back and forth over you as you averted your eyes. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Everything okay?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes and promptly feeling your face turn a brilliant red under his gaze. “Yeah uh… I’ve been busy at work.”

Bradley moved to stand beside you, grabbing the lone bottle on the counter and taking a swig. “You’re a nurse, right? Long shifts?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at Blair who was making a kissy face in your direction. “Just had a lot on my mind lately, plus crowds…”

“...aren’t your thing,” he finished for you, laughing at your reaction to the woman under Javy’s arm.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, your mouth falling agape at his words. “You remembered.”

“That I did, sweetheart.”

A flush spread up your neck. Somehow it had been easier to flirt when you weren’t single and now you felt like a goldfish that someone had plucked out of the water. Completely out of your element and you felt like dying at your uncertainty. “Lucky me,” you breathed, sipping your drink. “A man like you remembering little ole me? That never happens.”

“How could I not, sweetheart?” The grin on Bradley’s face sent butterflies racing through your stomach, the charm just radiating off of him. “You made quite the impression.”

You gave him a flat look. “My social awkwardness was enough to catch your eye? Nice try, Bradley, but I’m not buying it,” you replied teasingly, watching his eyes light up. “That poor attempt at a line doesn’t work on me anyways.”

“Who said it was a line?”

A loud smacking noise had you and Bradley jolting away from one another, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that there were other people in the room besides the two of you. “Finally!” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes. “There are other people here besides you two, ya know.”

“Sorry…”

“Sorry Nix. Couldn’t help myself,” Bradley said, sheepishly. A hand came up to tuck his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt and you couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t changed from your memory. Still kind, still handsome as all hell, still dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt. This one had white and orangey coloured flowers against a creamy light yellow fabric. But it was him and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since you’d met.

Despite that, you let yourself get dragged into a game of pool, pairing up with Phoenix against Bob and Mickey. You hadn’t played in a long time, so you weren’t great, but everyone else was sort of around your skill level so it wound up being more fun than you’d thought. “Okay, so after that show of mediocrity, anything will look good,” Hangman said loudly, clapping his hands and snatching a pool cue off the wall.

“Just means that we set the average. If you lose, you’ll land among us,” you snarked back, grinning widely at him. “No pressure.”

A hand on your lower back startled you and you spun around only to come face to chest with Bradley’s sunglasses. “Hear that? You got a lot riding on this one, Bagman,” he jeered over your head, shooting you a wink after. “You wanna take him on with me?”

“I’m not…”

“It’s just for fun, sweetheart. No pressure at all.”

“Sure. Why not?”

And you were off. Round and round the table you went, watching Jake and Bradley duke it out over the velvety table. But when it finally came time for your turn, you had to lean over the table far more than you had initially wanted, giving the pilots and Bradley behind you a good look at your ass in those shorts. You could feel his gaze on the red stars neatly framing your hips in the colour, and you preened a little.

A solid hit with your cue, you stood up, watching the white ball shoot towards a purpley coloured one and send it careening into the pocket. “Yes!” you whooped, jumping up in your excitement, bumping into Bradley behind you. “Oops.”

“All good sweetheart. No harm done,” the lazy smile on his face had your knees buckling and you quickly grabbed the pool table, using it to steady yourself. “Besides, I’m tougher than I look.”

You laughed, the sound mixing with the general din of the bar and you watched as Bradley’s eyes filled with the same mirth that was bubbling inside of you. “Self-burns are rare to witness,” you teased, grinning wider at the look that skittered across his face.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

He groaned jokingly, his lips twisting into a devilish smile that sent heat racing down your spine to pool between your thighs. “Damn it. I was hoping to play it cool.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but shut it quickly when Jake started complaining about the pair of you taking too long and Bradley stepped up to play his turn. You watched the two of them keep at it, playing as though neither you nor Mickey were there. “I’m going to grab another drink, did you want anything?” you asked, setting your cue against the wall.

“Nah, I’m good. Before you go, I’m guessing you’re more into him than me?” Mickey saw the surprise cascade over your face. “It’s okay! I just want to know if I should get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry Mickey, that really wasn’t fair to you at all,” you apologized. “I do have another friend that I think would be perfect for you, but I am sorry for wasting your night.”

“Hey. It’s fine. Seriously,” he added when catching your unconvinced look. “I still won. Rooster finally shut up about the pretty girl he met a while back that was dating this douche we have to work with. You did us all a favour.” Mickey gave you a kind smile, before turning back to the game and leaving you standing in shock at how calmly he’d handled the rejection.

But you didn’t dwell on it long. You needed another drink; the first one long gone by now. Penny had just handed it over when a voice from behind you caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. “So this is where I find you, you fucking cunt.”

Only one voice sounded like that and it belonged to your ex.

Fucking Mason.

You groaned, turning around with your new drink in hand. “Can I help you?” A few of the people next to you, two men and a woman dressed in civvies, dropped their own conversation, listening intently on the drama that was sure to unfold. “I was fairly certain I told you not to contact me in any way.”

“You fucking abandoned me at Nuke’s place! Didn’t even have the courtesy to call him!” Mason growled, stepping closer to you. “I had to explain what happened like a fucking loser!” You could smell the alcohol on him. He reeked of it, his sweater wafting vodka-flavoured fumes in your direction each time he moved. Biting your tongue, you shifted in place, keeping your body close to the bar and watching for Nuke or another of Mason’s cronies to make an appearance.

Normally by now, you’d be trying to placate him, telling him not to make a scene and to lower his tone. Tonight however, you couldn’t find it within you to care. If he yelled and threw a tantrum, that was on him, not you. “How is any of that my problem, Mason? You cheated, and had been doing so for months as I later learned. You literally fucked around and found out.”

Mason’s face turned a shade of purple you’d never seen before. There was madness in his eyes and you finally learned why they had called him ‘Cannon’. He was unstable, quick to anger, and once set off, nothing could be taken back. “How can you be so unaffected?! I was the best thing that ever happened to you! No one loved you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be the same ugly bitch I met two years ago.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mason,” you told him calmly. You had no idea if the whole bar had gone quiet; all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat thrumming like a butterfly’s wings. “You were a stepping stone to who I really am. If I meant so little to you, then why not love me and leave me like you did to all those girls you had in between?”

You paused, drawing in a sharp breath and trying to ground yourself in the moment. Trying to force yourself to pause, to centre yourself. “I’ll tell you why. It was never me who needed you. You needed me.” Taking a step forwards, you forced your eyes to meet his own, taking stock of the wildness that raged unhindered in the deep blue of his irises. “Your game wasn’t fun unless I had no idea. You needed me to make you feel good about yourself. By all means, live in your delusion, but let’s not kid ourselves and say that this break up was my fault.”

Mason let out an unintelligible noise, his hand flying out and slapping you. The sound echoed through the room, snapping your head to the side. “You whore!”

It took you not even ten seconds to right yourself and punch him back, your fist slamming into his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood stained your knuckles and you watched his face contort in pain as his nose began to bleed and he let out a shout of pain. “If anyone’s the whore it’s you, Mason. You got laid more times by women other than me so often your body count is higher than a fucking motel bed.”

He lunged for you, anger staining his face a brilliant scarlet that matched your shorts, but was blocked by one of the men who had been standing next to you. Mason’s fist thudded against this man’s arm, shock evident on his face.

A few seconds passed. No one moved. Mason was still held by this other man, who was both taller and wider than him. You stood against the bar watching it all slowly tick down. “5, 4, 3,” you thought to yourself, noticing how some of the men in the room looked twitchy. “2, 1.”

Just as the opening notes of Van Halen’s Jump blared through the jukebox, the man holding Mason swung, clipping him in the jaw and sending him sprawling back into another man, who spilled his drink all over himself. He whirled around, shoving your ex away and yelling at him.

Shouts erupted, fists began flying as the bar dissolved into complete chaos as small fights broke out. People jumped out of the way and you heard a few glasses smash against the floor. You heard Jake’s loud “What the fuck?!” over the din as he waded through the fight, dodging a rogue fist that went for his stomach.

The Navy personnel were trying to stay out of it. The Daggers at the back were standing in barely concealed shock as a girl shrieked like a banshee and came running at you. She grabbed your hair, yanking you away from the bar with a surprisingly strong grip. “Fuck you!” You yelled as you kicked a leg out to trip her.

She fell, hauling you to the ground with her. You landed on top of her, prying your hair from her fist, feeling some strands get ripped out as you tried to stand up. Wrenching yourself from her grasp, you backed up, tucking yourself against the bar once again. You saw Mason get shoved back from a group of men, his hands coming up to swing at his attacker, but fail and get punched in the face for his trouble.

Rooster saw the red flash of your shorts through a hole in the crowd and immediately pushed his way through the people, ignoring Phoenix’s hand trying to hold him back. He couldn’t see you anymore; he saw Cannon swinging wildly nearby and his heart sank, praying that it wasn’t you.

It wasn’t. Thankfully.

His focus was diverted when a punch went wide, slamming into his mid-back and making him stumble forwards a step. Bradley whirled around, glowering at the man, a young pilot on base, until he raised his hands in surrender. “Go home,” he snapped, watching the younger man blink in what looked like fear before backing up against the wall and staying out of the way.

Bradley pushed his way over to where he last saw you, but found nothing. You had vanished and the bodies thudding into one another, smashing glasses, and shouts did nothing to help him find you. He was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, but unfortunately it gave him no advantage in trying to find you. Half the girls in the bar were dressed like you and unless he could see your face or your ass, he would come up empty every time.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screeched loudly, slamming your hand against a man’s throat when he groped you. He started wheezing, anger in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath, still advancing on you all the while.

A hand grabbed the man’s shoulder and you caught a glimpse of Rooster’s mustached face over his shoulder. “Get lost.”

The man in front of you turned around, eyes widening a little when he saw Bradley behind him. “I was just-”

“I don’t care what you were doing.” The chill in Rooster’s voice sent shivers down your spine and you could see that the man in front of you was scared shitless. “She told you to fuck off.”

Under Bradley’s firm gaze, the other man ducked his head and hurried off into the crowd, tossing a half-hearted apology your way. “What the fuck happened?”

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly shut it having seen Mason run up behind him, a beer glass in hand. “Behind you!”

He turned quickly, catching a glimpse of Mason who froze in his tracks. You couldn’t see what happened next, but you did see Bradley’s head snap to the side and next thing you knew Mason hit the floor with a crash. “Fucking coward. Starting a bar fight because you cheated on your girlfriend and she called you out.”

He crouched down, mouth close to Mason’s face and hissed out “You’re fucking lucky that there’s witnesses and that your ex-girlfriend is watching this whole thing, otherwise I’d make sure you looked as small as you made her feel.”

Unable to watch more of this, you stepped forwards, letting your hand fall on his shoulder. Bradley’s head turned, his eyes softening as he took you in. “He’s not worth it,” you mumbled, barely audible over the noise in the bar. “Let Penny ring the bell and let him get his ass beat tomorrow in training.”

Bradley stood, towering over Mason before kicking his leg and turning to pull you into his arms. “You okay?”

“Ish… my cheek hurts. Fucker got me good.” You cast a look over his face, smoothing your thumb over his jaw, prodding gently at the red mark that had started blooming from Mason’s fist. “Are you okay?”

“Fine now.” He brushed your concern off, a small smile beginning to form as he saw the concern in your eyes. Even after a bar fight that you had inadvertently started, you were still concerned for him. You had faced your ex head on and he’d laid his hands on you. Sure you’d hit him back, but he’d still drawn blood when your teeth had smacked against your lip.

But here you were, in his arms, asking him to follow your finger so you knew that he really was okay. Cannon hadn’t deserved you and Bradley had thought of no one but you since you’d agreed to chat with him that one night months ago.

“Sweetheart, I’m fine,” he finally said, catching your hand in his own. “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Your heart stuttered from its steady pace. The sincerity in his brown eyes gave you pause because you couldn’t believe that this man, another Navy pilot, could be so different from your ex. “I know,” you whispered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I nearly had to call an ambulance because my fuckhead of an ex tried to knock you out.”

Bradley snorted, shaking his head at your scathing words. “I liked ‘fuckhead’ better than Cannon anyways.”

“Seriously? That’s what you took away from this?”

He shot you a lopsided grin, the end of his mustache tilting a little with the expression. “I’m pretty sure I got you in all of this, sweetheart. Best prize I ever won.”

“Who says you won me?” You shot back, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break free under the teasing look Bradley was giving you. You had found yourself doing that all night, every comment, each passing look you’d been given had filled you up with giddiness.

“I do, if you’ll have me, that is.” A hand brushed hair over your ear and you couldn’t contain the shiver that the gesture elicited. “If not, then I hope you let me try and win you over.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that erupted at his words. The bar fight continued in small pockets around the room, but right now with Bradley’s hand resting just above the swell of your ass as you curled into his side, you found a peace you didn’t know you needed.

Looking up, you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “All good things require a leap of faith, right?” He nodded, smiling down at you. “Might as well jump if you’re there to catch me.”

===

A/N: So there we have it! Rocktober is checked off my WIP list now! Now to make sure I don’t start anything new 😂 Big thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for punching the shit out of my imposter syndrome and being the best beta-reader a girl could ask for!

Tagging: @roosterforme @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @sarahsmi13s @cherrycola27 @multifandomlover4life @horseshoegirl @bobgasm @thedroneranger @beyondthesefourwalls @dcyllom

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#fern writes #top gun rocktober #rocktober #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

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fanboyswhore9 · 8 months

Text

Addicted to Love

Moodboard by: (BC TUMBLR ISN’T LETTING ME TAG THEM)

Pairing: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia x Fem!Aviator!Reader (as a part of @roosterforme Rocktober Celebration), based on the song, Addicted to Love by Robert Palmer.

Summary: Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia, consumed by his passion for aviation, discovers a new addiction in the captivating Y/N at Top Gun Academy. Their love story soars to new heights as they confess their feelings at the iconic Hard Deck bar, promising romance amidst the thrill of flying.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff

A/N: this is my first fic! Tbh, I don’t think I’m great at writing, so if you have any comments, please tell me if I did something wrong, but be nice about it, especially since I don’t write that often.

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Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia had always been a passionate soul, known throughout the Top Gun Academy for his unwavering enthusiasm and dedication to aviation. However, lately, there was something else that had captured his heart—a melody that played only for one person. As he walked through the bustling corridors of the academy, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift to the one who had managed to steal his attention from the skies.

She was a force to be reckoned with—a brilliant pilot with a fierce determination that matched his own. To the world, she was Y/N, but to Mickey, she was everything.

Their paths had crossed countless times on the tarmac and in the briefing rooms, and every encounter left Mickey craving more. He’d catch her gaze from across the room, her eyes a magnetic force he couldn’t resist. She was confident, strong-willed, and utterly captivating.

But it wasn’t just her skills in the cockpit that drew him in; it was the way she moved, the way she spoke, and the way her laughter could light up even the darkest corners of the academy. It was as if she carried her own gravitational pull, and Mickey found himself orbiting around her, unable to break free.

The first time he heard the song “Addicted to Love” by Robert Palmer on the radio, he couldn’t help but think of her. The lyrics seemed to echo the rhythm of his heart whenever she was near.

They say, “Might as well face it, you’re addicted to love.”

And in Mickey’s case, it was undeniable. He was addicted to the way her hair tumbled down her back, to the sound of her voice when she shouted orders during drills, to the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about flying.

Mickey had always been a fighter, but this was a battle he had no intention of winning. He wanted to be addicted to love, addicted to her, for as long as she’d have him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mickey and Y/N found themselves standing on the back porch of the Hard Deck, the soft glow of neon signs casting a warm and intimate ambiance around them. The bar was owned by Penny Benjamin, a place where pilots often sought refuge after a long day of training. Tonight, it served as the backdrop to a pivotal moment in their story.

They leaned against the railing, the hum of conversation and laughter from inside the bar providing a comforting backdrop to their conversation. Mickey’s heart pounded as he gazed into her eyes, the neon lights reflecting in her captivating gaze.

“Y/N, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he began, his voice filled with sincerity, his hands gently cupping her face. The gentle breeze ruffled his flight jacket, but his attention remained solely on her.

She turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. “What is it, Mickey?”

Mickey stepped closer, his breath mingling with hers, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I see you, it’s like the world fades away, and all I can think about is how much I want to be with you.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You know,” she said, her voice equally hushed, “I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Their breaths mingled in the cool night air, the tension between them palpable. Mickey couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned in, their lips inching closer together, and then he paused, his eyes searching hers for consent.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, her heart pounding in sync with his. And with that silent agreement, their lips finally met in a passionate and long-awaited kiss.

Their embrace spoke volumes, but when they finally broke away, Mickey couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t want this to end, Y/N.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “Then let’s make sure it doesn’t. What do you say we have dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us?”

Mickey’s grin widened. “I’d love that. How about The Sandbar? It’s not too far from here, and it has an amazing view.”

“That sounds perfect,” she agreed, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining. “I can’t wait.” She said, smiling widely, gazing into his dark chocolate brown eyes.

Mickey brushed a strand of hair away from her face and held her gaze. “And, Y/N, before we go back in there, one more thing.”

“What is it?” she asked, her voice filled with anticipation. He stepped closer, his hands cupping her face, and with a soft, tender look in his eyes, he asked, “Is it okay if I kiss you again?”

Her answer was a smile that spoke of unspoken promises and endless possibilities. As their lips met once more, they knew that their love story had only just begun, and it was bound to be the adventure of a lifetime.

Their lips parted, and as they turned to head back inside the Hard Deck bar, Mickey and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at each other, their hearts dancing to a newfound rhythm. It was then that they noticed the commotion inside.

The Dagger Squad, their fellow pilots and friends, had gathered at a table, raising their glasses and cheering them on. “About damn time, Garcia!” Payback shouted from the inside as he wore a triumphant grin as Coyote, Hangman, and Rooster begrudgingly paid up on a lost bet, their laughter filling the air.

They exchanged a knowing look, realizing that they weren’t just stepping into a bar; they were entering a family that celebrated their love and triumphs as much as their daring flights. As they joined the group, they felt the warmth of camaraderie and the promise of many more adventures together, both in the skies and in each other’s hearts.

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