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[simpforrooster]

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

~

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

[simpforrooster]

i gotta take you home.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Reader

request for @cevansbaby-dove Sorry it took me so long! I hope you like it!

"God she's so annoying," Hangman whines to anyone who will listen. You're across the bar, dancing with Rooster.

Which bothers Hangman more than it should.

Coyote chuckles to his left. "Yeah, okay." He brings his beer to his mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hangman asks.

Coyote's shoulder touches his ear in a shrug. "Oh nothing."

Hangman watches you spin yourself in Rooster's arms, a carefree laugh falling from your mouth. Rooster grins down at you, one hand around your waist, the other cradling his beer.

The way your body is pressed against Rooster has Hangman planning out ways he can covertly shoot Rooster down from the sky.

Which is a new development.

It is no secret you and Hangman don't get along. From the moment he laid eyes on your h/c hair, and took in your e/c irises, you annoyed him.

There was no way someone could be so beloved by doing...well...nothing. But alas, that was the case with everyone you met.

Besides Hangman.

He'd be lying if he said it wasn't due to the way he couldn't charm you like other girls. You managed to see right through all his shameless flirting.

And yeah, it hurt his ego a little.

Or a lot.

You turn around in Rooster's arms, planting your back against his chest. Rooster leans forward, placing his chin on your shoulder. Hangman catches his eyes, and Rooster's left eye closing in a shit-eating wink.

Coyote chokes on his beer at the interaction. "You gonna let him get away with that?"

Hangman rolls his eyes.

"Get your head out of your ass, man. We all know you're obsessed with her."

"No way." Hangman shakes his head. "I can't stand her." Even as the words come out his mouth, he knows it's a lie.

__

The song ends, and you separate from Rooster.

"Is he looking?" you ask your friend.

Rooster chuckles. "He hasn't take his eyes off you since you walked through the door, babe."

You glance over your shoulder at the blonde aviator. The object of all your fantasies. The guy who manages to push your buttons. Who drives you insane. Who makes you so mad with the simplest comment.

Despite it all, you're in love with him.

Too bad he doesn't return your affections.

The two of you make eye contact. He glances between you and Rooster. A blonde eyebrow raises, a silent question.

What's going on with you and Rooster?

You shrug your shoulder at him, hoping that's all it takes to get him to saunter across the bar to you, ready to push your buttons.

Another song starts, and since Jake has made no move to stop leaning against the bar, you reach around Rooster and take a shot from the table. Throwing it back, your arms wrap themselves around Rooster's neck.

Rooster looks down at you in warning. He knows how you get when you're in the middle of one of these....things....with Jake.

"It's fiiiiine, Roos," you tell him, holding out the syllables in your words too much. "Just keep dancing with me."

You pull your friend closer to you, and Rooster relaxes in your arms. "Whatever you say, y/n/n."

The two of you dance, lost in one another. You and Rooster went on one date. One date is all it took for both of you to see one another only as friends.

Since then, Rooster has played your wingman in trying to get Jake to make a move. It usually doesn't end in Jake's arm, but rather in an argument with him.

"Mind if I cut in?" you hear a voice behind you. The southern accent you've been dying to hear all night. Rooster backs off without another thought, spinning you into Jake's arms.

The blonde aviator smirks down at you, tightening his arms so your flush against him. He leans down to your ear. "Were you trying to make me jealous, darlin'?"

The intimate gesture sends goosebumps down your arms. The smirk on Jake's face deepens, letting you know he definitely noticed.

"Never," you grin.

"Nah," he agrees, the word hitting against your cheek. He pulls you closer to him. "Too bad it worked."

The hand around your waist cements there, his other own coming to the nape of your neck, making sure to get twisted in your hair. Jake uses that hand to crane your face up at him, those green eyes of his sparkling with mischief.

"You don't even like me," you murmur.

"Come on, now, you don't really believe that, do you?" Jake whispers back.

"Of course I do, Jake, you've never given me a reason not to," you admit, his eyes putting your under a spell.

"Hmm," he hums. "I love it when you use my first name."

One hand grabs the collar of his shirt, the other finds home around his neck. You're wracking your brain, trying to think of a way to get him to make that sound again.

The hand around his neck comes around to his jaw, and he lets his head relax. You play with the hair around his ear.

"This is the most you've ever touched me," he says. You let your hand explore down his neck, then his arm, finally resting around his waist.

"Tell me somethin', Jake," you say. "Do you really dislike me?"

The hand in your hair tangles itself tighter. "Would I be holding you like this if I did?"

Your finger slips through one of the belt loops on his jeans. He cradles your head as if he would rather die than let you go. His eyes glace toward your mouth.

"Are you gonna kiss me, Hangman?" you ask him, your eyes dropping this his lips. You pray the answer is yes. You can't hear the music in the bar anymore.

To be honest, you're not even sure you're still in the bar.

"Oh I want to," he murmurs against your temple. "But not in the middle of this bar."

__

Jake pushes you against the outside of the Hard Deck. He looks down at you, his chest heaving with want. Hooking a finger under your chin, he tilts your face up.

"I have wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you," he admits.

"Why didn't you?" you ask.

"You bruised my ego, if I'm being honest."

"I thought I was playing hard to get."

Jake chuckles. "You played that pretty well, darling."

Tightening your arms around his neck, you tell him, "Enough talking, Hangman. Show me what I've been missing."

Jake grins. "Yes, ma'am." His hands come up beneath your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Jake doesn't waste any time cementing his lips against yours. You follow his lead, letting him deepen the kiss. He moans against your mouth as your fingers slide into his hair.

Oh. So that's how you get that sound out of him.

You are putty in this man's hands, and it is as wonderful as you've imagined.

Jake runs kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. You lean your head back, trying to give him as much access to those sweet spots as you can.

"Darlin'," he hums against your skin. "I gotta take you home."

"Okay," you say lamely, comepletly intoxicated with the way he's making you feel.

"Okay." Jake's arms fall from around your thighs, setting you back down. His calloused hand reaches for yours, pulling you to him for one more kiss.

[simpforrooster]

looooove this!

Fanfiction and fanart are bonus content, brought directly to you without monetary motives. That is so rare nowadays. You can and should if you're able to support these creators with donations, kudos, comments and reblogs. But you're not obliged to. You can consume it for free, because people enjoy sharing their talents with you. Make them feel loved for their gifts for us.

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

[simpforrooster]

to the left.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: fun little christmasy one-shot. rooster helps decorate

t/w: allusions of smut

“A little to the left,” you call from the mound of plush blankets on the couch.

Rooster’s shoulders slump momentarily in defeat before straightening the star on the tree.

You study the star, tilting your head to the left, then the right. “I think it needs to go back to the right.”

Rooster tilts it back the way he had it mere seconds ago. His fit arm is stretched to the top of the tree. A small sliver of his abs peek beneath the green henley he wears. The plaid pajama pants (that match yours) hang low on his hips.

“I don’t know, Roos. Back to the left”

At this, Roosted lets an exasperated sigh. His hand falls from the tree and lands on his hip, extinguishing that small sliver of skin. He shoots you a look.

“I’m beginning to think you’re pulling my leg.”

You shake your head vigorously, widening your eyes in feign innocence. You point to the tree. “To the left!”

Rooster starts on you, abandoning the tree. He hovers over you, placing all hand on either side of you. The back of the couch holds his weight off you, but you want nothing more than to have him drape himself over you.

“This left?” he asks, placing a kiss under your left ear. Butterflies fill your stomach as he brings his brown eyes to yours. You audibly gulp, causing one of his brows to arch.

“Or was it the right?” he murmurs, kissing under you right ear.

He smiles into your neck, right against your racing pulse. “I can’t believe I do that to you.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, your voice coming about breathless.

You slip your hands around his neck, and into his hair. You trail a line of kisses up his neck and along his jaw. His breath hitches in the back of his throat, and suddenly, you know exactly what he means.

Knowing you have the same effect on Rooster that he does you thrills you in more ways than one.

“C’mere,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling you from the couch. Once he has you on your feet, his arms wrap tightly around your waist. Tugging you flush against his body, he leans down and takes your lips in his. Every part of you flairs to life. As his hands slide from your waist to your hips, you can’t help but feel just what you do to him.

Rooster’s hands slide around your ass, hoisting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Can the tree wait?” he whispers against your jaw, walking the two of you back to your room.

a/n: i’m bbbbaaaacccckkk

[simpforrooster]

someone like me.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: rooster gets jealous at the attention the bartender keeps giving you.

t/w: mentions of alcohol

“Can I get you another?” the bartender asks you.

You’re seated next to your best friend, Bradley Bradshaw. Callsign, Rooster. Jake talked the squad into heading to the town over for line dancing.

The bartender in question was definitely easy on the eyes, and had been meeting your gaze all evening. You answered his smirks with a few of yours, before returning your attention back to Bradley.

You raise a brow at Bradley, silently asking him if you aught to continue drinking. He answers with a quick shrug of his shoulder.

“Why not,” you tell the man.

A few moments later, he places an appletini in front of you. “On the house,” he smiles.

Your cheeks redden. As he walks away, Bradley chuckles.

“Got somethin’ to say, Bradshaw?” You turn in your seat towards your friend.

“Oh come on, y/n. You and I both know what he’s doing.” If you didn’t know better, you’d think Rooster was a little jealous.

But you do know better. You and Roos are nothing but friends. Something you’re still coming to terms with.

Of course you felt an immediate attraction to him the first time you met. He peered over his Ray Bans at you and gave you the most delicious smirk you’d ever seen. It was like something out of a romance novel.

But he’s never made a move.

“Are you jealous, Rooster?” you ask. Rooster quickly diverts his eyes.

“Of course not,” he says to the counter. The hand holding his beer tightens around the neck causing the veins in his biceps to appear.

Before your mind can go to places fit for a smutty romance, Rooster speaks. “I just don’t think he’s your type is all.”

“I’m sorry?”

Rooster shrugs a broad shoulder. Mischief sparkles in his eyes underneath the neon. He brings his beer up to his mouth, taking a long swig. Some residual beer hangs back on those lips, and it takes everything in you to not reach out and trace your thumb along the line.

“Well, you can’t leave me hanging. What’s my type? My love life certainly isn’t booming.”

Rooster’s hand falls onto the stool, in between your legs. Never taking his eyes from yours, he pulls your stool until it hits yours. The heat from his hand radiates. His legs have you trapped in, his broad thighs on the outside of yours. He still hasn’t moved his hand from your stool.

Your breath hitches at how he’s pinned you in. He hears it and answers with a smirk. A smirk identical to the one he gave you that first day.

A thoughtful look falls on his handsome face. He casually shrugs, feigning casualness.

“I just thought you’d always fall for someone like me,” he says. As the words leave his mouth, that false confidence is replaced with the look of boy afraid of being rejected.

You slide forward on your stool, almost into Rooster’s lap. One hand finds purchase in his sandy hair, and the other grips the wrist of the hand that was on the stool. Not giving it a second thought, you bring your mouth to his.

Pulling back slightly, you whisper, “Looks like you thought right.”

Rooster smiles against your lips and pulls you in for another kiss. Pulling back, you begin to place kisses along his neck. Rooster flags the bartender down.

“I need to close our tabs please,” he tells him. You don’t stop your kisses to see the look on his face, but you know Rooster is relishing in it. Rooster tosses a hundred onto the bar. “Keep the change, pal.”

Rooster gives the bartender a wink, and grabs your hand, pulling you out the bar and toward his Bronco.

a/n: i’m baaaackkkkkk. thanks for hanging with me through all my hiatuses! i hope yall like this quick little fic!

[simpforrooster]

2000 followers???

guys i can’t believe this. thank you sososososo much. this blog has given me an outlet to hone my writing and get it out there for people to read.

i have a fic coming soon to celebrate!

[simpforrooster]

Thank you @messysideblog and everyone who got me to 3000 reblogs!

I cannot believe this. i am so thankful for everyone here 🥹❤️

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

[simpforrooster]

falling for a girl in purple & gold.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: your brother convinces you to join him at his tailgate. you meet a gorgeous blonde, who happens to root for the opposing football team.

t/w: lots of mention of alcohol. she/her pronouns. cursing. instalovey.

a/n: i’ve been dying to write something like this. this fic is def based off megan maroney’s ‘tennessee orange’ and conner smith’s ‘orange & white.’ i left readers school pretty ambiguous until the verrrrrry end. i’m an lsu girlie 💜💛 so i needed a little self-service.

Stepping into the tailgate tent, nostalgia fills your body. You are transported immediately back to your time in college. Cheering on your alma mater with your sorority sisters. Hooking up with those random frat guys who definitely showed you a good time. You’d have to remember to thank your brother for making you come.

“Sis!” Speak of the devil. Your brother envelops you into a huge bear hug, as if he didn’t see you one week prior at your family’s standing dinner date. You return his hug.

“I am so glad you made it!”

Your brother began introducing you to several of his friends who were taking up space in the tailgate tent. If he doesn’t know them from his fraternity days, then he knows them from the Navy.

“Two more guys are planning to show,” your brother says. “Guys from my time in Miramar.” You understand this to mean from his time at TOPGUN.

Lucky for you, you’ve been schooled in all things naval aviation thanks to the burly guy you call a brother. There was no way he was going to have a sister have zero knowledge about the Navy.

His words, not yours.

Leaving you to ponder, your brother begins mixing drinks. He hands you his “special” after a few minutes. His special being vodka, with a tiny splash of sprite and cranberry juice.

You take the drink from him, raising your brows.

“It’s the first tailgate of the year, sis. Go big or go home.”

You’d much rather go home than consume a ton of alcohol in this heat.

“Well if it ain’t Bozo!” you hear a deep voice call, with a sliiiiight country accent.

“Hey guys!” your brother calls with the enthusiasm of a kid who just unwrapped a PS5 from under the tree. “I’m glad y’all made it.”

You turn and take in the source of that accent, and almost spill your drink. Your brother never told you he was friends with Adonis.

His blonde hair fans out at his neck, beneath a nice Stetson, like he’s skipped a few haircuts. A pair of jeans hug his hips, and across his chest, the school colors of the enemy.

University of Texas. You were sure that burnt orange wouldn’t look good on anyone, but this man is proving that notion wrong. Your eyes lock with his, and he makes sure you see his eyes trail down your body.

When those green eyes meet yours, he drops his right eye in a slow wink.

“Bozo, I didn’t know you colluded with the enemy,” you say to your brother, nodding toward the handsome blonde.

“Ah, well,” Bozo starts, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “not everyone is perfect.”

“What do they call you?” you ask the blonde, not being able to take not knowing his name any longer.

“Hangman.” He fixes you with a gorgeous smirk, and tips that cowboy hat.

“Hangman?” you question, cocking an eye brow.

Those eyes peer into yours. “Yes ma’am.” The way he says those two words has you thinking of all the instances he could say them in.

“What do they call you when you’re not flying a plane?”

“Jake. And your name, pretty lady?”

“Y/n.” You stick a hand out toward him. Jake reaches forward, taking your hand lightly into yours. The two of you stand there, shaking hands for what feels like an eternity. Neither one of you wanting to break the contact.

“Fuck, Bozo. You never mentioned how beautiful your sister is,” Jake says to your brother, but never taking his eyes off you.

“Because you’re a fucking playboy, Bagman,” he says.

“Funny,” Jake comments.

And you’d gladly let him.

“A playboy, huh?” You quip.

Jake shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe I just haven’t met the right lady yet.”

The way he peers into your eyes has you sipping your mixed drink in order to hold some of your sanity. This man has the potential to ruin you.

And you’d gladly welcome it.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him toward the beer pong table. “Be my partner.” You fix him with one of your award winning smiles.

“Anything for you, darlin’,” he drawls. Gah, that accent is gonna be the death of you. The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, beating your brother and another aviator, Rooster, effortlessly.

Jake holds up his hand for a high five. When your hand meets his, his fingers lace between yours. He pulls you into him. You can’t be sure if the vodka is making you lightheaded, or the way your body feels pressed against his.

“I’m having the time of my life with you, sweet thing,” he says into your ear. You giggle into his chest. You actually giggle. You’ve never giggled in your life.

“What would you say if I needed to kiss you?” Jake asks against your temple. Spying your brother working the makeshift bar, you grab Jake’s hand. You lead Jake down an alley situated between two class buildings.

“I’d say, kiss me, Hangman,” you say, grabbing his ugly, orange jersey to pull him toward you. One of his hands braces his weight against the wall, just outside your shoulder. He has you completely caged in, that strong body hovering over yours. Jake reaches up to pull his hat from his head. He casually holds the hat up, blocking anyone from seeing the two of you.

Between Jake’s kisses and your brother’s mixed drink, you’re feeling all kinds of good. Not wanting any of it to stop, you grip his jersey tighter, pulling him as close as you can get him.

A low groan escapes his mouth, and the fact that he’s seemingly affected by you the same way you are by him has you reeling.

“A gentleman would at least take you out first before kissing you like this,” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” you question, not really letting his words soak in.

“Mhmm. Too bad I am not feeling too gentlemanly, right now.” Jake deepens the kiss, and your hands leave his jersey and thread through his hair.

“Good,” you breathe.

Your watch buzzes, pulling you from Jake’s tantalizing kisses. Taking a peek, your brother’s name appears across it.

Where the fuck are you? We have to go into the stadium.

Jake pulls his phone from his back pocket. “Bozo,” he murmurs.

“Where are your seats?” You ask, still breathless from his kissing.

“Next to you,” he says, placing once more kiss to your lips. Pulling you from the wall, he plops his hat onto your head.

“Fuck, my dads going to be so pissed I’m falling for a girl in purple & gold,” Jake says shaking his head. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

[simpforrooster]

nothing but a gentleman.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.

t/w: soft!jake, some cursing

"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."

The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.

& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.

Believe me, they've been looking at him.

"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.

"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.

Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.

Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."

"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."

The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.

"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.

"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.

"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.

"Give what up?" he asks.

"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.

For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."

Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.

Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."

The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.

"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.

The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.

Naturally, he doesn't.

"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.

The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.

Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.

Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.

"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.

Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.

Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.

Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.

“My own volition, huh?”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”

You guide his lips back to yours.

“Kiss me, Hangman.”

master list.

a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!

[simpforrooster]

heard it all.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: reader vents to mav and penny about her feelings for a certain mustached fighter pilot. a/n: my take on a request from @kpopgirlbtssvt. i latched on to one part of the request and took off. i hope you still like it!

"What's going on in that head of yours?" the low voice of Maverick pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hmm, I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, continuing on without another thought.

"You've been wiping down that same spot of the bar for ten minutes."

Maverick and Penny, your boss, exchange a knowing glance. You look at the rag in the hand as if seeing it for the first time.

"I think it's plenty clean, y/n," Penny comments, winking at Mav.

Placing a hand on your hip, you stare the two of them down. "What are you two silently saying to one another?"

Penny shrugs a shoulder. "Oh nothing." You can see it in her eyes though. She knows exactly what has your brain all a-mush.

More like who.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

The hot Hawaiian shirt wearing aviator.

He captured your heart the first day you met him. Sure, his looks were what drew you to him initially. But he was so nice. Like green flags all around.

You shake your head at the two people who have become a pseudo family to you. Tossing the rag onto the counter, a sigh escapes your mouth.

"Y'all just give it up. We're just friends." Your voice breaks on the word friends, and your eyes squeeze shut to hide your embarrassment.

"Come on," Penny starts.

Holding up a hand, you stop her. "Penny, please. It already hurts enough. He's the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met."

Your chest heaves as you breath through your emotions.

"I have never met another man like him. He makes me feel seen. He makes me feel beautiful."

Maverick makes a move like he is going to say something, but Penny lays a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"And as if the silly little age difference isn't enough, he only sees me like a sister." A tear falls along your cheek, surprising you. Of course, you've grieved the non-relationship before. It isn't out of the norm to sob into your wine glass with Phoenix.

It's the first time you've ever cried in front of Penny and Mav.

The sound of a clearing throat has your spinning around.

Rooster looks at you, his brows knit together. You can't read the look on his face, but it can't be good. It tells you everything you need to know.

He heard it all.

And he doesn't feel the same.

Reaching up to sloppily wipe your tears, you tried to step around him, mumbling something so incoherent you can't decipher the words.

Rooster's strong arms reach out and stop you in your tracks.

"I can promise you I do not see you as a sister," he says, his voice low.

Not that you try, but words refuse to come out your mouth. How could they? The way he's staring at you has your heart beating in overdrive.

"Did you really mean all that?" he asks. His eyes roam over your face, searching for something. It takes you a second to realize he looks a little scared.

Scared of being rejected.

Bradley doesn't like you back. There's no way. He's had plenty of opportunities to make a move and hasn't.

He takes one step closer to you, the soles of your shoes meeting.

"Of course, Bradley." The sentence comes out barely a whisper, but he heard it. His hand snakes around your neck and settles into your hair. "Why wouldn't I be madly in love with you?"

A delicious groan escapes from his mouth before he closes the space between you. His lips meet yours and suddenly the Earth moves beneath your feet as the planets snap into alignment.

Bradley's lips are finally on yours, and it feels every bit as right as you imagined.

He pulls back so his mouth is feather light against yours. "Sweetheart, I am wildly in love with you." The words fall on your ears in soft whispers. Your eyes fall closed to relish in the way all this feels.

Bradley brings his mouth back to yours, pulling you tight against him. Your height difference has never been more apparant that right this second.

"Okay, okay, get a room," Maverick calls, followed by a, "Oof," as Penny's arm comes into contact with his solid stomach.

a/n: i hope y'all enjoy this one! i've been struggling with a little bit of writer's block.

[simpforrooster]

Don’t mind me, just reading and reblogging your entire Jake masterlist 😅

hahaha noooooo, i’m so flattered! thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[simpforrooster]

do you want me to lie, sir? pt.2

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Reader/F!MitchellReader

summary: jake has been busy with mav's stupid trainings. trainings disguised to keep him from you. t/w: implied smut 18+ please, soft!jake, soft!mav

Maverick has been keeping Hangman busy since the night he caught you coming out of his room.

Of course, Hangman thought the two of you were in the clear once you batted your big ol' eyes at your father.

Mav's got such a soft spot for you. His only child, only daughter.

"25 more, Lieutenant," Hondo tells him. Hangman internally rolls his eyes. Mav punished him to 75 push ups because it looked like he was going to leave his wingman.

**

Coyote and Hangman are leaning back against the bar waiting for their beers that evening.

"So, how are you and y/n?" He asks.

Hangman rolls his eyes, outwardly this time, since there is no one to tack on more pushups for the disrespect.

"Haven't seen her since that night," he tells Coyote.

Coyote's mouth pulls up in the corner, thinking about the chaos of the night. He was sad to have missed it. He hurriedly corrects his smile at Hangman's glare.

Penny sets the beers onto the counter and winks at Hangman. Of course Penny is in the know. Mav has probably been whining to her about it.

As Hangman turns back toward the pool tables, you make your entrance.

**

This hasn't been easy on you, either. You miss cuddling into those big arms. You miss his small kisses on your temple. The ones he gives without much thought. The simpleness of the intimacy makes your stomach jump.

Tonight, you dressed to kill. You can see it in the way Jake's eyes trail down your body from where he leans next to Coyote. You don't miss the gulp that goes down his throat either.

The black body con dress is working.

It isn't lost on you that your father is behind all the time Jake is spending away from you. You expected more from your cocky fighter pilot, though. Figured he be defying Maverick the first second he could.

But he hasn't. He's been respectful of it? Totally out of character.

Which is why you have to fight dirty.

You don't approach him, content to just watch him from the opposite side of the bar. His hand not holding his beer curls into and out of a fist, a la Pride and Prejudice style.

You allow your right eye to fall into a wink and then gesture toward the door. Not the front one. The one in the back. The one only you know about thanks to Penny. Jake answers your wink with a sensual smirk and murmurs something to Coyote before meeting you in the back.

Jake sandwiches you between him and the door. His strong body towers over you, heating you up all over. You reach behind you and turn the doorknob, both of you falling into the storage room.

Surrounded by bottles of liquor, Jake places his lips against yours and everything feels right in the world. Jake's hands rest on your hips, his thumbs digging in to pull you closer. You hook your arms around his neck and he follows by lifting you around his waist. He walks the two of you back against the door.

"Your father has been the absolute cock block," Jake tells you.

"Never say that sentence again," you giggle into his chest.

You never discussed your dating life with your father. You'd hope you'd just charm your way through it. Your father is still hellbent on assuming Jake is going to fuck something up.

"I know how guys like Hangman are!" he shouted once you followed him into the house. "Hell, I was Hangman!"

You crossed your arms. "So Penny doesn't need to be with you, then?"

Mav got that look on his face, the same one he gets when Cyclone calls him out on his bullshit.

The two of you didn't get farther than that, and your dad has kept Jake busy with pointless training exercises.

Jake pulls you back to the present by taking your lips in-between his teeth, gaining an unsolicited moan from you.

"Come back to the present with me, please," he says low against your ear. Your body reacts with goosebumps and a deep longing for the man pressing you against this door. "How good can it be inside that brain of yours when I am right here?"

"Oh shut up," you whisper against his mouth before deepening your kiss. You elicit a surprised groan from him as you grind against his erection. Allowing your hands to fall from his neck, you begin to fiddle with the button on his pants.

To hell with your fairytale first time with Jake.

Jake stops you. One hand on yours, the other keeping you around his waist.

"Baby, stop," he says quietly. That voice cutting through the noise in your brain. "You don't want to do it like this."

"But I want you," you tell him, feeling slightly rejected.

Jake leans forward, placing a soft kiss against your temple, calming you.

"Do you not want me anymore?" you manage to ask. Your voice small, hating that you let the question even leave your mouth.

Jake's finger comes under your chin, craning your face to look at him. "Believe me, stopping you from grabbing my cock is the hardest thing I have ever done." He kisses your temple again. That small reassurance fills you up. "But I know how important this is for you. I can't have sex with you in the middle of your stepmom's liquor stock."

You have to admit, seeing this soft side of Jake just makes you want him even more. If you'd been any other girl, he wouldn't have hesitated. But he did with you.

Because he loves you. Your brought back to that night. When he said it and you knew it was time. Time to take your relationship to the next level. It also hits you that you never got a chance to say it back to him.

"I love you, Jake," you whisper, laying your forehead into his chest. Jake chuckles into your hair.

"Take me home, Jake," you say. He sets you down and takes your hand in his. Carefully, he pulls the door open, and as he takes a step back out into the bar, he shoves you back in. Blocking you with his body, you can't see what's going on.

"Lieutenant," your father's voice says.

"Captain," Jake answers back, just as stoic.

"You hiding my baby girl?"

Jake squares up just a bit. "Do you want me to lie, sir?"

"I think that would be best."

"Nope."

Not being able to take this same song and dance, you poke around Jake.

"Maverick, you have to chill out." Your dad is taken back at the use of his callsign. He much prefers Dad or Pops.

You don't back down. "I am a grown woman. You cannot hate the people I date unless there is a legit reason I should be worried." You cock an eyebrow, silently asking Well, is there?

Jake stands behind you, letting you take control. Not wanting to dig himself into a hole. Mav can appreciate that. His little girl is strong enough on her own, and Jake knows this.

Maverick looks over your shoulder at Jake. "Hangman, if you hurt her, I swear--"

Jake cuts him off. "You don't have to worry about that." His hand encircles your waist from behind, pulling you into him. "I'm in love with her, sir."

This declaration softens your fathers eyes. It almost looks like he's going to cry?

Nah, Mav wouldn't cry over something like this.

Or would he?

You clear your throat. "We, uh, were just going to head out. Going to the, uh, house. You and Penny seem plenty busy here."

"To go watch watch movies I hope," he says, eyes sad and scared.

"Do you want me to lie, Pop?"

"That would be best, daughter."

"Sure, movies."

You grab Jake's hand and step around your father before he can say anything. Over your shoulder, you see him shaking his head before heading into the stock room for whatever Penny sent him after.

a/n: so sorry for my unplanned hiatus. i had to administer state testing to my fifths, and then school let out a week early and we had to cram all our end of the year fun into a few weeks. i also started my masters degree. tbh, i have been feeling a little uninspired. hopefully i will be back to posting regularly!

[simpforrooster]

a very important meeting.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: you're on your way to your office when you get stuck in the elevator with the most annoying naval aviator.

t/w: cursing, some sensual material ahead, getting stuck in elevators

The elevator doors open, revealing a fighter pilot inside. Your stomach drops to your feet as you take in your worst nightmare. For a split second, you consider turning around and hiking it up 8 flights of stairs, but resign and join the pilot. 

He watches you settle into the opposite corner from him. You pull out your phone, deciding to ignore him during the quick ride up to your office. 

Bradley Bradshaw clearly has other ideas. “Hey, y/n,” he taunts. 

“Hi, Chicken,” you reply, not looking up from your phone. 

“It’s Rooster,” he corrects, those brown eyes staring a hole through the side of your head. 

“It’s cute that you think I care,” you tell him, sliding your phone into your work bag. The elevator numbers climb up past two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

The sound of the elevator stopping between floors sends a new kind of dread through your body. The elevator lurches, throwing you into Bradshaw. His strong arms wrap around your waist, steadying you. You don’t miss the way he keeps them on you a second longer than he should. 

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” he asks, his voice low. 

“Other than the fact that this is my worst nightmare, nope.” 

Rooster grins. 

“You’re insufferable,” you tell him, pushing him away from you. He answers you with his annoying laugh that you secretly love. 

Rooster reaches around you and presses the emergency button. Never taking his eyes off you, he tells the attendant about the mishap. Fear overtakes you as she tells Rooster it may be a few hours until they can get the elevator working again. 

“Guess we better get comfortable,” Rooster says. He slides down to the ground and pats the spot next to him. 

“You don’t have to pretend to like me right now, Bradley,” you say, sitting opposite of him. “This is torture enough.” 

A strange look passes over his face. 

The two of you barely tolerate one another, and it’s been this way for years. You can’t pinpoint exactly what caused the tension between the two of you. You also can’t pinpoint exactly when that animosity turned more toward flirting. Or when you looked at Rooster one day and decided that he was probably the most handsome man in the Navy. 

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs. 

“I'm stuck in an elevator with you, of course I’m nervous. What if I hurt you?” you say, trying to lighten the mood. This makes his lip pull up in the corner. 

Rooster stands, coming over to where you’re sitting. “Well, I’m nervous for a whole other reason. What if I kiss you?” He takes his hand in yours and pulls you up.

“You don’t mean that,” you whisper. 

“Oh come on, y/n. I flirt with you all the time.” Rooster takes a small step toward you. 

“No, you argue with me all the time.” 

He takes another small step, and your back hits the wall. “Riling you up is my favorite pastime. You’re so hot when you’re mad.” 

Did he just call you hot? 

“Don’t get my hopes up, Roos.” From this angle, it’s hard to ignore the height difference between the two of you. 

“Ah, so you admit all this between us has been flirting?” he smirks, bracing himself against the wall, his large hand just on the outside of your head. His other hand slides around your waist. 

“I don’t know what to call it,” you whisper. 

“You can call it me wanting you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

You don’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. He can’t mean them, can he? It must be the stuck-in-an-elevator-with-nothing-else-to-do talking. Those brown eyes seem to stare straight into your soul. There is nothing you want more than for him to kiss you right now. This man you’ve seemingly hated. 

But you know he’s right, all that hatred was actually flirtation. 

You’ve never seen him out with another woman. He’s never taken one home from the bar. Hell, you’re pretty sure you’ve watched him toss a phone number the second the girl turned away from him. 

At this realization, you can’t remember the last time you flirted with anyone who wasn’t the man in front of you. 

Hangman doesn’t count, he’s the resident playboy. It’s not your fault if you flirt back. 

Bradley leans in a little closer, searching your eyes for any hesitation. When he finds none, he leans in juuuust a little more. 

“Just tell me to stop,” he cautions. 

You absolutely don’t want him to. Craning your face up to take him in, he takes this as full-steam-ahead. 

As he crushes his mouth to yours, you would have been a fool to stop him. You’ve never kissed anyone like this. Kisses of urgency, longing, and honestly, breathtaking. It’s as if every other man you kissed was only practice. Bradley must feel the same way because you cannot mistake the groan that just fell from his lips. The sound buzzing against yours deliciously. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmurs in your ear. Bradley presses his body into yours, tightly tucking you in between him and the elevator wall. His erection presses into your lower half, and if his bedroom performance is anything like his kisses… 

Your hands slither up his chest to grip his t-shirt. He smirks against your lips before changing direction and claiming your neck. 

“You taste every bit as sweet as I thought you would,” he says. “My fantasies don’t even come close.” 

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can grab it, letting him know just what his words are doing to you. He chuckles against your neck, that mustache of his feeling exactly as you thought it would. 

He’s not the only one with fantasies. Bradley’s hands reach for the top of your jeans, pulling you to attention. 

“Bradley, there are cameras in here,” you say. There’s no way you’re having sex with Bradley for the first time in an elevator. He just ignores you, pulling your mouth back to his, offering you hungry kisses. 

“You’ve never called me that before.” He pulls back just enough for the words to leave his mouth, and then he’s back to his ministrations. “I do not care.” 

“I do, my dad probably has access to them,” you say, killing that erection immediately at the mention of your admiral father. 

“Fuck,” Bradley concedes, dropping his arms from around you. He puts as much distance between the two of you as he can, his eyes promising more to come once this elevator is fixed. 

Rooster punches the emergency button again. 

“Sir, the crew is working as hard as they can to get the elevator operational.” 

“Let them know the admiral’s daughter is also stuck in here, and she has a very important meeting to make,” he responds, never taking his eyes off of you. Bradley drops his left eye in a flirty wink, that smirk on his face as equally delicious.

[simpforrooster]

he didn't stand a chance.

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x f!reader

summary: some weirdo keeps checking you out at the bar. you best friend seems like the perfect way to get him to leave you alone.

a/n: this one has been in my drafts for so long. totally forgot about it! i hope you like it!

~

The guy at the bar couldn't be more obvious in checking you out. You accidentally caught his eye when you walked in, scanning the room for Phoenix.

He's yet to come up to you, content on just making things weird from the way he watches you.

"Come on, let me say something to him," Phoenix presses, jonesing for a fight. You shrug her off, taking a sip of your cocktail.

He turns his attention toward Penny, and your shoulders relax.

Finally.

Before you can get comfortable, those eyes are back on you. He fixes you with a grin. A grin that suggests he's about to saunter over to you and start a conversation.

Panicking, you turn toward Rooster, your best friend. Your hot best friend. You take his Hawaiian shirt in your fist.

"Kiss me," you breathe.

His brows knit together. "What?"

Before his stupid mouth can mess up your plan, you yank his face down toward yours, capturing that stupid mouth. Rooster's surprise melts away as he takes your face in-between his hands. Deepening the kiss, one of Rooster's hands falls from your face. That hand finds a belt loop on your shorts, yanking you toward him. A gasp falls from your mouth at the feeling of your bottom half against his.

You pull back from him at Phoenix's cough. "Uhm. He's gone."

Rooster walks you backward until your back hits the pool table. Resting his forehead against yours, his breath strained.

His index finger lightly tilts your face up to him. You meet those gorgeous eyes and the realization of what happened hits you like a Mac Truck.

"What the fuck was that?" he murmurs.

"I've been dodging that guy at the bar all night," you explain.

"And instead of calling him out with one of your famous verbal beatings, you decide to attack me?" The corner of his mouth quirks up.

"I didn't attack you," you say. "You're the one who turned things almost borderline inappropriate."

He chuckles, his forehead still against yours. His eyes drop down to your mouth, and slowly come back up to your eyes. "I don't recall you stopping me."

"I needed to be sure that guy got the message."

"And what message is that?"

"That he didn't stand a chance."

[simpforrooster]

sorry I have been mia.

so sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. we have hit state testing at school, and I have been having to give that my attention for the moment. I plan to start writing again soon!

thank you so much for continuing to read my work. it really means more than I can say.

[simpforrooster]

i’ll let you know tomorrow.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

summary: maverick is enamored with a new lady at the bar. turns out rooster talked mav up earlier.

t/w: brief mention of an age gap, alcohol, cursing maybe?

“Hey Mav, you got a little drool,” Hangman tells him, gesturing to his mouth with his beer bottle.

Maverick knew he was staring. He just didn’t realize how obvious he was being about it. The moment you stepped into the bar, Maverick was gone. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

Rooster follows his godfather’s gaze, smiling upon seeing you. He’d met you earlier, a new computer engineer on base. Rooster knew Maverick would insta-fall in love with you.

You were absolutely Maverick’s type. So much so that Rooster didn’t think he’d be able to utter a word to you. He’d never seen his godfather so speechless. The man was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Are you going to go talk to her? or just stare like a creep?” rooster asks.

maverick runs a hand over his face, about to accept defeat. “I don't even know what I'd say to her.”

Hangman rolls his eyes. “Grow a pair, Pops. I just might beat you to her.” Mischief dances in Hangman’s eyes, like he knew all Mav needed was a little competition.

Maverick meets Rooster’s eyes. “Maybe she’s lost that lovin’ feelin’?”

“Oh no, she hasn’t.” Rooster vehemently shakes his head, backing up from his godfather. Roos heard the story time and again from his mom. Ice shared it with her shortly after Goose’s death, hoping it would bring a smile to her face.

It did.

“Come on, your old man used to back me up. Now it’s your turn.”

Maverick hadn’t used this tactic on a lady since Charlie. It felt pretty sacred to her, and Nick. He wasn’t sure if he kept it filed away for so long for her sake, or Nick’s. With Rooster standing here, and Charlie happily married in D.C. he thought, what the fuck?

“We gotta help her find it,” Maverick pleads, praying Rooster caves before someone like Hangman steals her away.

Maverick gives Rooster his best pleading eyes. He has no idea who that girl is, but he can’t let her get away. He can’t bear to see Hangman with her.

Rooster throws back the remainder of his beer, silently conceding. Maverick jumps into the plan, effortlessly explaining everything as if he does this all the time.

As Maverick and Rooster perform for you, Mav immediately takes note of the pretty flush that dusts your cheeks. He wonders how many other ways he could make you blush. Catching Rooster’s eyes, Mav sees a ghost. For a brief moment, Maverick isn’t performing this schtick with Rooster, but rather his father. Bradley looked a lot like Carole when he was younger, but as he’s grown up, he’s Nick Bradshaw made over.

After the last note, Maverick holds your eyes, raising a brow. The smirk you grant him makes him weak in the knees as you pat the empty barstool to your left. Maverick smiles thanks to Rooster and Rooster retreats to the pool tables.

Up close, Maverick sees you’re much younger than he thought. Maybe even younger than Rooster. You don’t seem to mind though, Maverick taking note of how your body angles more toward him. He also notices the cocktail in front of you.

At least 21.

“You must do that all the time to have it so perfected,” you tease. Mav takes a swig of his beer, quickly glancing at the dagger squad. Rooster shoots him a thumbs up, while Coyote and Hangman make obscene gestures. He’ll have the two of them pay for that, of course.

“Ah, nah. This is only the third time. First two weren’t very successful,” Maverick tells you, following your lead by leaning a little closer to you. He figures he can blame the loud music for needing to invade your bubble.

“How’s this one going?” you ask.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning, but it’s looking pretty good so far.” He fixes you with the cocky smile of the 24 year old who last uttered the line.

“Is that right, Captain?” you quip. Mav’s eyebrow quirks in surprise that you know his rank.

“Your son told me all about you this afternoon during our meeting,” you gesture toward the squad.

Son.

Bradley referred to himself as Pete’s son. The feeling in his stomach almost rivaled the one you cause, your eyes silently begging for Maverick to get you out of this bar.

a/n: i recently watched the first top gun and melt every time mav tells charlie he will let her know in the morning. ugh. obsessed. had to write this.