#Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

[itosevenito]

I love that the tg fandom just collectively agrees that Mav and Ice raised Bradley and that the other flyboys are his uncles

[vxntagedior]

brown butter cookies

summary | baking started to become bradley's coping mechanism after the uranium mission

pairing | bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warning | angst, fluff, mentions of the mission, PTSD

word count | 1.0k

Bradley could have died that day and he still couldn’t comprehend that. Flying back to San Diego, Bradley couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Maverick. All he had thought about when his plane was going down was you. 

He didn’t have many memories of his dad but the most vivid ones were when officers had come to their house, telling his mom about the news and next his dad’s funeral, remembering how Maverick had presented the folded flag to him. 

Since that, he didn’t want that to happen to you, he didn’t want you to feel the way his mother did when his dad died, how she barely went out some days, the light leaving her body. 

You were waiting at the base when they came back, you and Penny waiting in the parking lot. Seeing the squad make their way out, Maverick already running towards Penny, you saw Bradley slugging himself behind Mav. 

Scared out of your mind, you ran towards your husband, happy that he was back home but wondering where the damage was done. 

“B.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks. Sniffling, Bradley started to cry, wrapping his arms around you, pushing his face further and further into your neck. Your eyes were wide, Bradley had never been like this after any mission, you stayed quiet, hugging him tightly. 

“C’mon let’s go home.” That seemed to get him out of your touch, wiping away his tears, letting you guide him to the bronco. Sitting in the driver's seat, you looked over at Bradley who just broke down into tears. 

“Bradley!” You called out, seeing his chest heaving, seeing that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. “B, can you hear me.”

“I almost died.” He choked out, turning his head towards you, “I almost died and all I thought about was you being alone.”

You couldn’t help but tear up, that was always your biggest fear, hearing that Bradley never back from a mission. Leaning over the console, you wiped away his tears, kissing him softly. Bradley cried softly, resting your forehead against his. 

Driving home, you held onto his hand the entire time pulling into the driveway, Bradley let out a shuddering sigh. 

The navy had given the team 2 weeks off, and gave you the number of the therapist on base. The two of you talked it over and agreed on going twice a week.

Soon the mission had been 2 months ago, the dagger squad now staying at TOP GUN. 

One thing he learned at therapy was finding an activity outside of his job. Bradley tried sports, volunteering, and soon found out it was baking. 

Carole had always made the best cookies when he was little, and passed down the recipe to him before she passed, something he just kept in one of her boxes. 

Coming home from work, it was warm inside the house, warmer than usual and smelt amazon. 

“B, what are you making? It smells wonderful.” You gushed walking into the kitchen, “Oh my!”

Cookies were everywhere, on every counter space that was available. Bradley was standing over the sink, the hand mixer on, not hearing you come in. 

“Hey.” He smiled, seeing you walking. Letting out a snort, you saw the apron that was yours around him, covered in flour and sugar. “I made cookies.”

“For the squad.” You probably had to guess there were at least 5 dozen cookies cooling down. 

“Why?” You asked, grabbing one off the cooling rack, “These are so good!”

“My therapist said that I should find an activity or a hobby.” He shrugged. Bradley never talked to you about his sessions, not that he had too but it seemed like it was making progress because you hadn’t seen him so calm and happy since the mission. 

“And their brown butter cookies, some with chocolate chips and with a little salt on top.” He answered. “It was my mom's recipe, I found them in her boxes and I made a batch and then ended up spending the rest of the afternoon making them.”

“I didn’t know you were such a good baker.” You smiled, taking another cookie. “You should make brownies next.”

Coming into work the next few days, Bradley came with boxes and boxes full of cookies giving them to the squad, letting them just assume that it was you who were making them. He didn’t really talk about his PTSD he still had, the nightmares, staying up all night because he’s scared that if he’d go to sleep he wouldn’t wake up. 

Maverick was probably the closest to know what was happening with Bradley, somewhat in the same position as him, his near death experience, but wasn’t his first nor will it be his last. 

“It tastes exactly like your moms.” Maverick commented as they started fixing up one of the F-14s. Bradley let out a small smile, happy that he remembered and that the two of them started to mend their relationship.

“It feels nice.” Bradley hummed, “Makes me forget about everything, and now Y/n wants me to make more desserts now.”

“You're gonna be a PTA dad in the future.” Maverick snorted, “Bringing treats for all the parties.”

“Shut up!” He huffed. 

-

“Try.” He offered you a piece, soon enough, baking became a normal thing for Bradley now, making something new every couple of days. “Hangman’s mom sent me her recipe for lemon bars.”

“Hangman's mom.” You were amused, “Since when did you talk to her?”

“You don’t need to know who I talk to.” He said playfully. “And anyways, Hangman gave her number, apparently he heard about my new found talent and wanted some.”

“You might need to start charging now, this is turning into a side business.” You took another bite of the bar, “I think you were a baker in your past life.”

“Hey, if being an aviator ever comes to an end, I’ll own a bakery.” He smiled, slightly liking the idea. 

“Gonna name it after me?” You let out a breathy laugh. 

“Name it after my girls.” He said adamantly, “You and my mom.”

fin.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

apple pie (b.r.b.)

a/n: this is for @gretagerwigsmuse who has put up with months of voice messages and screenshots and bursts of inspirations and always entertains every idea i ever have (also this is most definitely not a return to tumblr please don't be mistaken)

summary: Bradley and Sunshine take a road trip to Julian as they learn each more intimately.

flight risk masterlist

warnings: kylie wrote fluff who is she, swearing, a touch of angst, inspired by lizzy mcalpine's "apple pie"

word count: 3.7k

“Got a hot date you gotta run out here for?” Hangman asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

He shuts his locker as he smiles, picking his bag up from the bench. “’Course I do, Bagman. My girl gets in tonight, remember?” 

Hangman nods, coming to stand next him, a grin on his face. “How could anybody forget? It’s all you’ve talked about all week.” 

He nudges Hangman before stepping over the bench. “Got to run and pick her up from the airport if we’re gonna get on the road at a decent hour.” 

“Have a good weekend, Rooster.” Bob says, patting him on the shoulder as he heads towards the doors.

“Tell Sunshine I said hi!″ Fanboy calls after him. 

-

“How do you always look so good, even at an airport?” You say with a sigh, coming to a stop next to Bradley and the Bronco. 

His head whips towards you, a grin spreading across his face. “Sunshine.” He lets out in a rushed breath, arms already reaching out for you. You allow him to tug you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around his broad figure as he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. 

You lose track of how long you stand there, tucked into his embrace and relishing in the comfort it brings until a horn honks, reminding you of where you are. 

“Missed you Sunshine.” He mutters, voice muffled. “So fucking much.” 

You squeeze him before letting your arms drop. “Missed you too, B.” 

He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone before pulling back, a shy smile on his face. “I love you Sunshine.” 

Your smile grows. “I love you.” You say, standing up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You wanna get going?” 

He nods, grabbing your suitcase. “Yeah, let’s get on the road, my love.” 

-

In a rare moment of Southern California weather, it starts to rain as the two of you drive up the windy road towards the small town. Bradley’s hand is on your thigh as he drives, you watching the passing forestry. 

“There’s a Girl Scout camp up here.” 

You hum, pulling your eyes from the greenery to the brunette next to you “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah, there’s actually two. Think one is called like Camp Whispering Oaks and the other is Winaka or something? Not sure. I was a Boy Scout, so obviously I wouldn’t know.” 

You laugh. “How could I ever forget that about you?” 

He squeezes your thigh, as he grins. “I just remember ‘cause the area up here and around the camps was damaged pretty bad from some wildfires when I was a teenager.” 

You sigh, looking back out the window. “Did you come out here a lot?” 

He gives a half-shrug as you look out at the trees, covered in the mountain gloom. “Kind of. You can see the stars so clearly out here, so Mom and I would camp out here when I was little. I was always so mesmerized.” 

“Must be nice to get away from all the hustle and bustle of a city life.”

He hums, turning on his blinker to turn despite the fact that there’s no one around. “Yeah, I wanted us to be able to get away from all of it. Away from work, from other people...” He trails off, like he’s suddenly doubting himself. “Not that I think you don’t like my friends, I just figured it be nice to-”

“-to have some alone time away from prying eyes?” You tease, picking up Bradley’s hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers. 

He squeezes your hand. “Something like that.” He’s silent for a moment as he glances down at the directions on his phone. “Okay, we should be getting close.” 

He makes another turn down a long driveway, the gravel making the ride bumpy as the two of you drive up. 

“Okay, this is it.” He says, bringing the car to a stop and cutting the ignition. You lean forward, seatbelt still on as you take in the small house. It’s a small, two-story building surrounded by forest. You can see a wood swing in the back and suspect there’s probably a really cute patio out back. 

It feels rustic, it feels cute, it feels homey. 

“Bradley, this is so darling.” You whisper. 

He clicks the button on your seatbelt before pulling his door open. “Let’s go inside then, shall we?” 

Bradley grabs your hand as you run up the driveway together, laughing freely. He unlocks the front door as you step in, taking in the small main floor. The kitchen isn’t all that big, but seems fully functional. The living room matches everything else in its rustic feel and the bedrooms are small but cozy. You’re pleased to see that there is in fact a deck that overlooks the wilderness. You could see yourself living in a place like this, far removed from the stresses and worries of daily life. 

You’re sitting on the deck, looking out at everything around the cabin, when Bradley slips out after putting your bags in one of the bedrooms. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

You turn your head slightly, nodding. “Kind of reminds me of the camping trip we took in college.” 

He sighs, sitting down behind you on the bench you’re perched on, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the deck wall. “But better this time right?”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Obviously. It’s way prettier up here and it’s just the two of us this time.” You say, leaning back against his chest. He hums, hand moving down to your thigh to rub circles into the skin. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Sunshine.” 

You smile, settling in. 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

-

To be fair, you’d tried to stay present and in the moment the rest of the evening with Bradley. He’d cooked for you, and played card games with you, and the two of you had been wrapped up together all night, but still the feelings remained. 

The fear that you hadn’t been wanted on that camping trip at UVA, the embarrassment and hurt that had bubbled up after overhearing Bradley say she’s really just Tommy’s friend had lingered. It had lingered all these years. It stayed underneath the surface even as you tried to force it away. 

"Can I admit something about the camping trip? The one we took at UVA?”

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can ever really help it. 

Bradley hums, nuzzling his face closer into your neck. His mustache tickles your neck as he pulls you close, hands finding purchase on your hips. “Sure Sunshine.” 

You hesitate, swallowing. “I heard you. That last night, you and Eli, when you were talking about me.” 

“What’re you-” He begins to ask, probably recalling the memories tucked away of that trip but then he freezes, signaling to you that he remembers. “Sunshine.” 

You shrug as he pulls his head up to look at you. “I just- I don’t know why I’m telling you that, I just-” 

He shakes his head, rolling over in the bed and taking you with him. “Sunshine.” He says firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze from where you had previously been staring at his chest. “I- Fuck Sunshine.” 

You swallow, looking away from him again. “I wasn’t supposed to hear that, I know.” 

His hands slip underneath your shirt once more, thumbs rubbing small circles. The action soothes you, reassuring you that even though he might not have liked you then, he was with you now. 

“Sunshine, I- I was being defensive. It was an asshole thing to say, and it wasn't even true to begin with.”

You shrug again. “You can admit that you didn’t like me back then. I was kind of annoying and I know the whole trip was kind of a set-up anyways.” 

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Sunshine, you told me that we were all better because you knew me. But the truth was that we were all better for knowing you. You were such an amazing person and it... scared me. Scared me shitless.”

He moves one of his hands to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you shake your head. “How-”

He swallows, giving you a painful smile. “When Mom died, Maverick was all I had. Even before then, he was the closest thing I had to a Dad, and he was that for me in every sense of the word. To find out just a couple days before starting at UVA that he pulled my Naval Academy application, and with it all my dreams-” He takes a shuddering breath. “It felt like a betrayal in all the worst ways. It felt like a confirmation that I would never be able to follow my dreams, that I wasn’t good enough to get them in the first place.” 

One of your hands reaches up to trace over a scar on his cheekbone. “Bradley.” You whisper, unsure of what to say to comfort him, knowing there was more he wanted to say. 

In all the years you’d known Bradley, in all the time you’d spent with him, he very rarely spoke of the hurt Maverick had caused by pulling his papers. But you’d known. Even though you saw Bradley for who he was at his core, the kind and charismatic human being who’d do anything for his friends, you’d seen the person the anger and hurt had transformed him into being. You knew there were reasons he thrived with the kind of human being Eli was as a friend, why Bradley had the same friends for four years and never got any new ones. 

Bradley hadn’t always been the being that enraptured people so wholly as he did now. 

You knew that and you knew that the loss of his family had done that to him. 

“I told you that who we were as kids weren’t people who would’ve built a long-lasting relationship. I told you I was too angry to trust anyone.” You nod, recalling the words from the night that everything had changed between the two of you. “However, what I didn’t tell you was that I was also too scared to trust anyone. Eli was ride-or-die for me, but even that friendship didn’t happen overnight. I never dated anyone at UVA, knowing I couldn’t throw a relationship into the midst of everything I was feeling. But even though you were everything I’d ever wanted, even back then, if you had come to me and told me how you felt- I don’t think I would’ve believed you. I don’t think I would’ve allowed myself to think I deserved someone as good as you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought that Bradley Bradshaw, one of the best people you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, would’ve thought he wasn’t good enough for you.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night to him. I got defensive, being confronted with the thought that you might feel like more than friends, knowing that I couldn't give you what you wanted. I was so busy trying to convince myself I didn’t feel the same way, I never allowed myself to see the love you were so freely trying to give me.” 

You swallow, unsure of what to say to him, knowing how vulnerable he’s being with you.

“They all knew how I felt about you before I did. They wanted us to go after what each of us believed we didn’t deserve.” He sighs, intertwining your fingers. “And for better or worse, I’m glad we decided we deserved each other.” 

“Me too.” You admit softly. 

He nods, giving you a soft smile as he brings you back to his chest.

-

You can hear the car turn on the wet gravel as you pull up to the small shop, an orange glow lighting up the rain-streaked windows. “Here we are. Ready to brave the rain?” 

Bradley rounds the car as you climb out, taking your hand. The two of you make a run for it across the parking lot, to little avail, getting pelted by the cold water as the two of you reach the front steps of the home that’s been converted into a shop. He holds the door open for you, the bell jingling. “After you, Mrs. Bradshaw.” He says, with a teasing smile, nudging you through the door. You have no time to process what he’s just said to you as an older woman comes from around the corner, beaming at the two of you. 

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, we are so glad the two of you could make your reservation despite the rain!” 

You swallow, feeling your cheeks warm, as Bradley grins. “Of course, Mrs. Peters, we were just so excited.” 

She waves him off. “Call me Donna, dear. The weather has meant our shop is a bit empty today, so you and your wife can have the best table in the house.” She shows the two of you to a cozy booth, near the fireplace, which is currently emitting a much welcome warmth from the bitter cold outside. 

“Here’s our list of pastries. Please let me know when you’re ready and I’ll be happy to get you your tea.” 

Bradley settles in the booth with his hand on your thigh, eyes flitting over the small list the woman had given him as you stare at him with wide eyes. 

If your brain hadn’t been a live depiction of a loading screen, you would have appreciated the warmth of the small tea place Bradley had found, the way it felt homey and cozy and full of love. You would’ve appreciated the flowery smell, the soothing pitter patter of rain, the way the decor had clearly been so carefully picked and designed with love and passion at its core. 

Unfortunately, you had other things on your mind. 

“Bradley.” You hiss. 

He doesn’t look up from the menu. “I hear their apple scones are good, apples picked fresh from a farm not too far from here. Apparently Donna’s daughter bakes the pies from the shop down the road, so they’ve got some here for- what?” Bradley asks, blinking. “Oh, Donna inferred when I made the reservation that we were married and well- she technically isn't wrong, so-” He cuts himself off, a nervous smile on his face. “What, hate being called Mrs. Bradshaw?” 

“No.” You’re quick to correct him, shaking your head. It was definitely not the first time a stranger had mistaken you as Bradley’s wife, dating back to even early on in your agreement with him. “No, I don’t hate it at all. I’ve just never heard it come from you.” 

Bradley blushes, turning away from you as he shrugs. “Dunno, just wanted to try it out.” He mutters. 

“Bradley Bradshaw, are you blushing on me?” You ask, warmth spreading over your face as you scoot closer to him. “And here I thought you were such a charmer.”

“Pick your pastry, woman.” He says, but his voice wobbles. You press a quick kiss to his cheek, tucking yourself into his side. 

“The apple pie is just fine.” 

-

“Donna?” 

The woman hums as she sets down another kettle of tea on the table. “Yes dear?” 

“Do you think I could play the piano?” 

She hums, brushing off her apron. “Absolutely. I certainly would love some live music.” 

Bradley smiles before sliding out of the booth and walking over to the grand piano sitting in the corner. He plays a few keys before looking back to you. You laugh, standing up. 

“Didn’t realize you wanted me to join you.” 

He huffs, giving you a smile. “If I want to serenade my girl, I kinda need her here to do so.” You shake your head as you slide down on to the bench next to him. 

“And what are you playing for me today my love?” 

He hums, testing out a few more keys. “Just wait.” 

The unmistakable keys of George Ezra begin in the room, as Bradley’s deep voice begins to sing along. 

Well, goodness gracious, what a time

I found the sweetest human being alive

You glance at him as he plays, your heart fluttering as he plays the keys. 

Maybe we already met once before

Another time, late night

Same kids in a different life

You’d told him once, how much you loved this song. How much you wanted to dance to the love of your life to this song, and it felt so sweet and full of love. 

And he had learned it for you. 

I’ll hold you and I’ll be home

And I’ll know I found the sweetest human being alive

A few moments of silence pass after he finishes before he chances a glance at you. “I found the sweetest human being alive.” 

“I can’t believe you learned that song for me. And you’ve been holding out on me this whole time that you knew it.” 

He smiles before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Was saving it for a special moment.” 

-

Your phone dings next to you on the bench as Bradley hums, mindlessly playing a few keys. It’s from a number you don’t recognize, piquing your interest as you skim the message. 

“Holy shit.” You mutter, pushing yourself off of Bradley’s side as you unlock your phone. 

“What?” Bradley asks, glancing down at the device. 

“Listen to this.” 

Hey girl, it’s Madison. Bailey gave me your number. We’re all at Tommy’s and going through his basement. Found some pictures of you and Bradley from the disposable camera we took on the camping trip I forgot to pass along to you. 

Here they are. If you want the hard copies, which I’m more than happy to send to you, would you let me know a good address to mail them to? 

Miss you and hope you and Bradley are both doing well.

You read to him, glancing up at him. 

“Pull the pictures up, I wanna see.” 

You do, clicking on the icon. You swipe through, wondering how you had never seen these before. 

You pause, looking at one from the second night the two of you had been there. Madison had dug out a copy of Monopoly from one of the cabinets, and while your friends took it as an opportunity to turn it into a drinking game, you and Bradley had taken it seriously, getting a wee bit too competitive for your inebriated friends. 

And there’s nothing special about the photo except for the way you and Bradley are looking at each other, like nothing else in the world mattered except each other. At that moment, nothing probably did. 

“Even then...” He whispers from behind you. “They always said that even then, I looked at you like you were my whole world. I’ve never really believed it until now but...” He trails off. 

“Even then.” You whisper. “Even then, we were everything to each other.” 

“Guess so, Sunshine.” He murmurs. 

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, before squeezing your thigh once, and resuming his mindless playing from before. You sigh, locking the phone shut as you tuck your head back into his shoulder, enjoying the warmth spreading over you. 

-

“Why are we parking in the cell phone lot?” You ask as Bradley pulls into a spot. He cuts the ignition before pulling off his seatbelt and turning to you. 

“Because, Sunshine.” He says, with a sigh, resting his forearm on the center console. “I’m really going to miss you.” You watch Adam's apple bob as his eyes flicker down to your lips. “And I want to take my time saying goodbye to my girl.” 

“I’m really going miss you too.” You whisper, before pulling your seatbelt off. You give him a soft smile before cupping his cheek, but stopping just short of where he wants you. “Are you going walk me to security like a gentleman?” 

He returns your smile. “Haven’t I always?” 

The kiss he gives you is soft and sweet and full of love. It’s everything you could ever want from a kiss and it’s bittersweet, knowing how long you’ll have to go without it. 

“I’m really gonna miss you, B.” You mutter against his lips and he sighs, pulling away to rest his nose against your cheek. 

“I know, Sunshine, I know.” He peeks up at you, hazel eyes shining through his lashes. “Promise you’ll visit soon, Sunshine?” 

You give him a sad smile. “You’ll barely even have time to miss me, Bradshaw.” 

He huffs, pulling away from you. “I highly doubt that, I always miss you.” 

A giggle bubbles up out of you, although neither of you can deny the wetness of your eyes. “Oh, you always miss me, huh?” 

“You’re the person I want to do everything with, Sunshine. Of course I do.” Bradley hardly lets you feel the weight of his words as he pulls his door open. “C’mon, don’t want you missing your flight.” 

Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand as the two of you walk into the ever bustling San Diego airport. He goes with you to drop your checked bag off, the Delta employee smiling at the two of you through the whole interaction. After making the short walk to where security begins, Bradley sighs, tugging you to the side. You instinctively wrap your arms around Bradley, knowing what’s coming. His hug is just as tight as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Please don’t cry Sunshine.” He whispers as you pull away. You rub your eyes as you pull away. 

“I’m trying really hard not to. You’d think by now, this would get easier.” 

He frowns, brushing some hair out of your face. “It’s just as hard for me, Sunshine. I’m serious that I want you around all the time.” He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “C’mon, as much as I’d love to keep you here, you have to make your flight and get back to Boston.” 

You swallow around the lump growing in your throat as you let him go, stepping back into go down to security. You wave to him, blinking back tears before you lose sight of him, entering the nonstop chaos of TSA. You blink hard, willing yourself not to cry as you hand the woman your passport, realizing how much you want this to be the last time the two of you say goodbye like this. 

[cinebration]

Got the Rhythm (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: You challenge Rooster to a piano duet.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: paperjunk

When Rooster walked into the bar, you hardly paid him any mind—not with that terrible mustache, anyway. He had an undercurrent of the same cocky swagger you expected from all the pilots, somewhere on the spectrum between Hangman’s palpable arrogance and Bob’s quiet competence. In other words, he was a flyboy, and they were all trouble.

You glanced back to your girlfriends, noted how their gazes swept the room for the faces they liked the most. One of them elbowed the other as Rooster strode up to the bar.

“Him?”

“How doesn’t love a thick neck and a mustache?”

Your nose wrinkled. “Sometimes I forget you grew up watching Magnum, P.I.”

“Short shorts needs to make a comeback, that’s all I’m saying.”

Shaking your head, you glanced back at him. “He’s okay. “ You effected our best Mr. Darcy impression. “‘But not handsome enough to tempt me.’”

“You never know, maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“Doubtful.”

And then Rooster walked over to the piano and sat at the keys.

That caught your attention immediately. Pianists had always been attractive to you, not least of all because you happened to be one yourself. Leaning back in your seat, you waited for the show to begin, half hoping he would be terrible just so you could laugh about it and not have to reevaluate him.

The first chord struck, and he was off, fingers flying over the keys with the passion of someone who truly enjoyed music. To your dismay, he wasn’t half bad.

And then he started belting out a song.

“Oh dear Lord,” you muttered, turning away from the performance. Your chest constricted with the strength of the cringe you felt.

“I don’t understand you,” one of your friends said. “You can’t even handle it when people sing in movies.”

“It’s just so…” You waved a hand vaguely. “The cringe is strong, ladies. I’m dying here.”

“Then go shut him up.”

Frowning at her innuendo, you twisted your lips at her in a mock sneer and physically cringed again as you listened to Rooster crow. He sang well, but it didn’t change the fact that you wanted to flay the skin off yourself and flee the room.

Clearly you had to shut him up.

Shoving back hard from the table, your chair scraping loudly against the floor, you strode over the piano, interrupting Rooster’s serenade as you hip-checked him across the bench to make room for yourself. His fingers faltered on the keys, the song dying in his throat.

“Hello?”

“I thought you might like a challenge,” you answered, gently shaking out your wrists. “An improvised duet.”

His eyebrows rose. His friends that weren’t already circling the piano drew closer, a quiet “Ooooo” echoing in the background.

He laughed. “Dueling pianos?”

“Well, we only have the one, unfortunately. So it’ll be a fight for keys and elbow space.” You flashed your teeth at him, more challenge than smile. “If you think you can handle yourself.”

A chorus of “Oooos” swelled around you.

Hangman leaned his forearms on the top of the piano. “Let me give you a tip, beautiful.” He cast a sidelong glance at Rooster. “He has a speed problem.”

“Oh?”

He turned back to you. “He’s too slow.”

“Ohhhhh.” You nodded sagely. “So, he can’t keep up.”

“No, ma’am, he most definitely cannot.”

You watched the muscle in Rooster’s jaw flex.

“Let’s find out, shall we.” And you let loose on the keys.

Jaws dropped as your hands moved with an almost preternatural speed, coaxing surprising melodies from the ivories. You lost yourself in the music, in the feel of your fingers creating and maintaining rhythm. For a moment, you forget it was a competition, that even Rooster was sitting beside you on the bench.

A deeper harmony swelled up alongside yours, not quite as fast but still acting in concert with what you were putting down. You risked a glance at Rooster, jolted out of your musical trance, and saw him fixated on the keys, concentration write large on his expression.

A smirk tugged on your lips.

Your hands flew faster.

Roster increased his pace, sweat dotting the hairline on his forehead. To your surprise, you found yourself straining too, putting your all into the piece, throwing complex melodies at him in the hope he wouldn’t keep up, that he’d get up and leave you alone at the piano.

Yet he persisted, his elbow jostling yours as he laid down a heavy rhythm almost in harmonious counterpoint to yours.

He glanced aside at you, his gaze meeting yours. Despite the furrow in his brow, his eyes were bright, joy and excitement vibrant within them.

You brought the piece to a sudden crescendo and a resounding ending, Rooster echoing it with a few final chords.

You were surprised to find yourself breathing heavily, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in a tiny rivulet. Rooster’s chest heaved beside you, his face flushed with the exertion.

“Well,” you managed to say, your voice thick, “aren’t you full of surprises.”

“Surprise is my middle name.”

Hangman snorted and pushed himself away from the piano, shaking his head.

Rooster leaned forward into your space, as though drawn into your orbit. Surprise flooded through you as his nose nearly touched yours.

You slid off the bench, narrowly missing the kiss. He looked up with a frown.

You turned to leave, then hesitated. Snatching up a napkin, you scrawled across it. “If you want to duet again sometime, here’s my number.”

A stupid grin unfurled across his face.

“I like a man with good rhythm,” you murmured, and you returned to your table of friends, ignoring their snickers.

“See, he did surprise you,” one of them said.

“Shut up,” you groused, but a smile played on your lips.

Rooster stared at you all night. Thankfully, he didn’t resume singing.

[betanoiz]

playingwiththeboys.mp3

[simpledyiing]

Masterlist

Top Gun: Maverick

Captain Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Games ∥ P. Mitchell

Where has Romance gone today? ∥ P. Mitchell

The Bet - Part I

The Bet - Part II Maverick Ending

From Paper to Reality ∥ P. Mitchell - Maverick x (Student) Y/N

Sneak-peek of Maverick x (Student) Y/N

Sneak-peek of Maverick x (Student) Y/N... I'm sorry edition

Sneak-peek of Maverick x (Kazansky's youngest daughter) Y/N

Don't Stand So Close To Me Series

Don’t Stand So Close To Me ∥ P. Mitchell - Part one

Don’t Stand So Close To Me ∥ P. Mitchell - Part two

Don’t Stand So Close To Me ∥ P. Mitchell - Part three

Context to the Kazansky's Family Dynamic

Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

The Bet - Part I

The Bet - Part II - Rooster Ending

[mare-noctis-studios]

And the bonus cover for Prettyboy:

Another tribute to one of my favourite authors on AO3: @alecjbi

This is a series of covers for their Twenty Dollars Verse series

[lapseinart]

I think Bradley should get mad at Carole. I think Mav should be proven right. I think Bradley should resent her a little, for asking this of Mav. I think Bradley should accept where they were both coming from, but be angry anyway. There's nothing to do about it now; she's dead. I think he thinks Mav, Carole, both of them, someone should have talked to him about it. It wouldn't have changed his mind. Bradley was dead set on flying. But I think he should resent them for taking away his autonomy. I think Mav needs to understand that; I think that he maybe already does. I think Bradley and Mav should make up. I think Bradley will make his peace with what Mav did, what his mom asked Mav to do.

But I think Bradley should resent his mom a little anyway.

[crooked-jes]

i got this romeo&juliet!hangster idea earlier today and just couldn't get it out of my head, so here's a little vision board for you to admire..... and maybe write fanfiction too (please sb write such fanfiction. with a happy ending, preferably.)

[chockfullofsecrets]

Top Gun Maverick: Kid Shit

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He scoffs. “I’m not ticklish anymore, Mav. That’s kid shit.”

Mav uncrosses his arms. “Yeah? Wanna bet?”

In the aftermath of the mission, Bradley and Maverick revisit some old traditions.

Wordcount: 1769

A/N: Yeah, this was just about the stage of the [watch the new Mission Impossible > start catching up on Tom Cruise movies > start looking for fic > read everything @ticklish-academic has ever written for this fandom > get ideas] pipeline I expected I'd get to. Feel free to hit me up if there's anything else you want to see for M:I/TGM while the hyperfixation lasts :P

--

After the crush of people on the deck breaks up, handshakes and hugs and general oh-shit-we’re-alive energy starting to fade back into the normal schedule of things, he and Mav get shuttled off to sickbay and told in no uncertain terms to stay put until the adrenaline wears off enough for them to tell exactly how bad they’re hurting. Mav puts up a fight, of course, but Bradley knows better - every aviator’s heard the horror stories, herniated discs and torn muscles from the force of ejection, and he’s got one that’s more personal than most.

Mav does too, to be fair, but it’s not like anything short of a direct chewing out from the Almighty himself would keep him from being stupid about his health. And even then, it’d be a toss up.

A week ago, he’d have pulled one of the staff aside and asked to be as far away from Mav as he could possibly get. The urge isn’t completely gone. Mav promised him they’d talk it out, when they got back, but after the mission - Mav saving his life and him saving Mav right back and sitting there in the backseat of that old as shit plane with nothing to do but trust him and try not to pass out - maybe they’ve bonded, okay? Maybe talking’s just going to make it worse. He’d rather wait until he has the option to walk away, if he needs to.

Really earning that Rooster callsign, huh. He’d be angrier at himself if he had the energy for it.

As things are, they’re pointed to adjacent cots and left to stew. Five minutes pass. Fifteen. He avoids looking at Mav like it’s his new vocation in life and starts counting wall rivets.

Half an hour in, he groans for the fifth time in as many minutes and slides down until he’s laid out flat enough to adequately convey his despair. “Come on.”

There’s a shuffle from the cot next to him. “I hope that’s not you realizing you broke something,” Mav says dryly.

He groans again. “I’m bored, Mav. Where the hell are the rest of the Daggers? You’d think they’d at least bring us a deck of cards or something.”

Mav makes a noncommittal noise. Emboldened, he props himself up on an elbow and dares to look over. “How are you okay with this, anyways? You hate sitting still.”

Mav’s reclining into the curve of his rickety half-raised bed, arms folded neatly over his chest like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Bradley’s struck by an intense, childish urge to get up and flip the whole thing. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled either. Not my first time playing the waiting game, though.”

Of course it isn’t. Come to think of it, he’d be surprised if a mission for Mav didn’t end in medical intervention.

He says as much, a little more snidely than he means to, and Mav turns his head with glacial indolence to raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Bad mood, huh.”

And doesn’t that just - it makes him feel like he’s a teenager again, gangly and sweaty and more upset about everything than he should be. Not the tone, even, just that Mav hasn’t been around to look at him like that in so long - and the words come out almost without his permission. “Yeah - well, I’m stuck in here with you, aren’t I?”

Mav’s bland expression flickers, just for a moment, and he instantly feels like the worst person on earth. The man saved his life less than twenty four hours ago, and here he is mouthing off like he’d used to when they’d known each other well enough not to take it seriously.

He lays himself back down, too much of a coward to see whatever else Mav’s face is broadcasting at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Mav’s still looking at him, he can feel it. The silence stretches out before them like a ship’s runway, pitching and yawing like he’ll launch straight off it and into the water if he’s not careful.

And then, like he always does, Mav takes the challenge and starts taxiing. “Lighten up, kid, or I’m going to have to cheer you up the way your dad used to.”

Bradley’s surprised enough to look back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mav cocks his head, mouth twitching. “What, you don’t remember?”

Something about the tilt of Mav’s smile, the not-entirely-begrudging amusement in his eyes, registers somewhere in the back of his brain - and he does remember, then, though it’s not his dad he’s thinking of.

It’s Mav - Mav sneaking behind him and sweeping him up before he can run, Mav reaching over to him in the passenger seat where he’s buckled in and can only move so far before the seat belt catches him, Mav dumping him onto the couch and grabbing one of his legs before he can start kicking and-

He scoffs. “I’m not ticklish anymore, Mav. That’s kid shit.”

Mav uncrosses his arms. “Yeah? Wanna bet?”

He tells himself firmly that the reflexive flinch when Mav starts getting up is fear for the old man’s spine and absolutely nothing else. “Mav, come on, you’re not supposed to be moving around - Mav!”

He scrambles back the singular inch that his cot allows, barely managing to sit up before Mav’s perching on the edge of it and smirking at him. “Hey, you don’t look bored anymore.”

Well, Mav’s got one thing right. His entire brain’s diverted from boredom to run a diagnostic on what feels like every single one of his nerve endings, and he’s more than a little suspicious of the results. “You’re - I’m being threatened here, that’s not-”

Mav shakes his head disbelievingly, still grinning like the devil himself. “Threatened? What happened to ‘kid shit’?”

“I’m not ticklish,” he insists. He can almost make himself believe it, too, that his body’s just operating on decade-old instinct, responding disproportionately to a memory meant to stay in the past. “Try me, it’s just going to be awkward for both of us. You probably pulled something just coming over here, old man.”

It’s not a go fuck off and die, and Mav knows it - Bradley watches him pause for a moment and mull it over, grin softening into something warmer and less provocative, and has to consciously pull the corners of his mouth back into the stern line he wants them in to prevent himself from smiling back. “Bold words, kid.”

“True words,” he fires back, just before Mav’s wriggling fingers hit his stomach and prove him very definitively wrong.

He’s laughing before he can even try to stop himself, doubled over and curling up like he can somehow still manage to keep Mav’s hands away from the spot they’re already attacking. “Shihihit! Mav!”

“That’s me,” Mav says flippantly, sliding close enough to get an arm around him when his body makes a commendable attempt to escape by rolling off the far side of the bed. “Not ticklish, huh? Pretty sure things went in the other direction.”

Mav’s obviously messing with him, but he’s not wrong - Bradley doesn’t remember anything tickling as badly as Mav’s fingertips kneading into the bend of his waist do. “No!” he yelps anyways, smashing one arm over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stay quiet and throwing the other out frantically to get Mav the hell off him.

Mav’s arm tightens across his chest. He’s being reeled back in, forced out of the fetal position he’s locked himself into and giving Mav even more room to wreak havoc - it’s too much, all at once, and he squeals. Squeals, like he’s a teenage girl at a concert and not a naval aviator in his thirties. He has the sudden, paranoid thought that Hangman might hear him through the vents.

The thought of it makes him laugh even harder, frantic - smothering himself in his elbow is keeping him quiet enough for now, but if Mav keeps tickling him like this it’s only going to last so long. “Ha - ahaHA - quit it,” he pleads, sacrificing his assault on Mav’s iron band of a grip to wrap an extra arm around his face. “Ihihi - I can’t-”

Mav releases him almost instantly, letting him flop onto his side and curl back up until he can stop wheezing out giggles into his kneecaps. “Well, that’s different,” he offers - Bradley can hear him grinning, the bastard. “You never used to ask me to stop.”

Just the thought of being tickled more nearly sets him off again. Thankfully, Mav decides to shut up and wait for him to catch his breath before he coughs himself to death on Navy property.

He calms down. It’s easier, now, less charged, to roll over onto his back with his hip mashed up against Mav’s thigh and reach up to smack him in the shoulder. “Well, yeah. We’re in public, Mav,” he says defensively. “You can’t just go around doing that to people.”

Mav catches his hand before it can drop back down to his chest, squeezes it playfully with his eyes lit up like fireworks. “Hey, you asked for it!”

Bradley hasn’t seen him this happy in - well. That’s kind of his fault, isn’t it. He wrestles his hand free for a moment before thinking better of it, relenting and letting it fall somewhere in the vicinity of Mav’s legs. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Mav laughs to himself, then, just long enough that it’s worth Bradley cracking an eye open to glare at him. “What.”

“Nothing,” Mav says quickly.

Bradley glares harder.

“Nothing!” he promises, then just as quickly retracts it. Typical Mav. “It’s just - my hangar, I’m working on a P-51 Mustang out there. You could come out and see it sometime, if you wanted to.”

He’s not sure what’s so funny about it, but he lets himself grin anyway. “As long as we don’t have to dogfight in it - that sounds good, Mav.”

“It’s about as far as you can get from public, though,” Mav adds, teasing, “so I can go around tickling anyone I want. Fair warning.”

Oh, there’s the joke. He can’t even bring himself to pretend he doesn’t want to go, though, just scoffs and shoves at Mav’s arm again before letting his eyes fall shut. “Go lie down before I change my mind, Mav, I saw that wince.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A hand ruffles through his hair. It’s nice. “You look tired, kid, knock it off.”

Mav doesn’t move until he falls asleep. Maybe it’s not so bad being someone’s kid again after all.

[joaquinwhorres]

3 WIPs Tag Game

Rules: post snippets/screenshots/etc. from three of your WIPs! art or fic! tag as many people as you like! (created by @limetimo)

Thank you to the four amazing writers who tagged me in this and shared snippets from their WIPs. I highly highly recommend everyone who stumbles across this check out the posts from @demxters, @sylviebell, @bobfloydsbabe, and @ereardon.

kiss it better -- Javy "Coyote" Machado x Reader (but there's also an OC version with Audrey Herrera on AO3 & FFN) 

"Now's when normal people would say thanks back," he prompted. The flickering of concern you'd felt in your chest sputtered out completely as you leveled Javy with a flat look.  "For allowing me to save your ass in a fight that you started?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you crossed your arms. "Or for showing the barest amount of basic human decency?"  "Yeah, that's about right," Javy muttered to himself, and his voice seemed to gain some strength back. He apparently did too as he pushed himself up off of the ground to stand in front of you. "Why are you even out here?" "I was sent to apologize," he answered, hand returning once more to his throat. "Sorry, by the way."

Tailspin (Ch. 5) -- Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x OC

She hardly made the decision before her palm touched his cheek turning him towards her, and then she was pulling him into a kiss as the people around them exploded in cheers. Mickey shifted, hand falling to the other armrest as he bent closer to her. The cheers died as the camera feed refocused back on the pitcher, ready for the first batter, but Mickey's lips remained on Caro's. It was another moment more before Caro pulled back from him. "We're still not dating," she clarified.  "Of course not," he breathed.  "I just didn't want everyone to boo you." "You're very kind," he said, moving a piece of hair out of her face. 

hey baby -- Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

You realized belatedly that there was no way he was talking to you. His partner had to be sitting a few stools down behind you or something. Your face grew warm with embarrassment as your mouth closed. Before you could tear your eyes away from him and focus on the asshole before you who looked absolutely pale and spindly in comparison, the stranger reached out and drew you into a quick one armed hug, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head.  "Sorry I'm late; debrief went long." Holy shit. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. "Think you can forgive me?" he asked, offering a sheepish grin, even as he winced in preparation for an emotional blow.

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @tongue-like-a-razor, @rae-gar-targaryen, @veetlegeuse, @asirensrage and anyone else who wants to do it. If you've already done it, please ignore this!

[itosevenito]

I Loved You Like The Sun

For @mapled-penitentiary

Summary:

Rooster always knew his dads had a love for planes, he just didn’t expect Maverick to own a goddamned warplane or a hangar for that matter

Rooster

Bradley had had his suspicious when Maverick gave him and the rest of the Dagger’s his house location– which turned out to be in the middle of a goddamn desert. He double checked google maps as he pulled up. He looked around at the almost completely baren landscape and the seemingly worn and unused hangar before feeling a rush of relief in his chest as he spotted Hangman’s ute and Phoenix’s jeep off to the side of the tarmac. He quickly exited his bronco, slung his trusty duffle over his shoulder before he made his way over to the crowd of confused aviators. 

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix called, a touch of relief to her tone, “Do you know where the hell we’re meant to go?” Bradley strolled up to them, finding that more than half of them had their phones in their palms and were gawking intensely at google maps. “Why would I?” He questioned, his brows furrowed. 

“Trusty Bradshaw, as usual.” Hangman snarked, leaning over Javy’s shoulder as the pilot scrolled. Bradley’s eyelid twitched. “God damn it, I think he gave us the wrong address.” Fanboy moped, slumping as Payback nodded solemnly. “That would explain how we’re all here,” Bob muttered, taking a look at their surroundings just as Rooster had. 

Bradley narrowed his eyes, he knew Maverick had some brain damage problems– but to muck up his own address? That was a new skill. But they were all definitely in the right state– Maverick had been there with them as they purchased the tickets after all. He let his duffle slip off his shoulder slightly as he reached into his jeans to fish out his phone. Without a shred of hesitation, he clicked on the old man’s icon. 

“Everyone shut up!” Phoenix shouted as the dial tone rung out. Everyone immediately shut up as Maverick answered. 

/Hey kid, you get into the state alright?/ Maverick’s bubbly voice asked from the other side. Bradley didn’t miss the awwing noises the other aviators made. 

“Yeah Mav, we all made it alright.” 

/Oh that’s good! When will you be arriving?/

“Uh… Mav about that.”

/… are you alright now? No accidents?/ 

“No, no!” Bradley was quick to reassure, “No, no not at all, we’re all in perfect health. It’s just, we think you may have given us the wrong address.” 

/Odd. You wanna run the address through me now?/ Maverick offered. Fanboy took that as a cue to rat out the address they all had present in their phones. An amused chuckle filtered through from the other side. 

“Something amusing, Pops?” Hangman asked, looking sour. 

/Kind of you to ask, Lieutenant. Yes, there is something I am finding incredibly amusing/

“I knew it,” Bob whined, throwing his head back, “We got the wrong address.” Bradley resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, already feeling the dread of another long, tiresome car drive coming up. 

/Gimme a sec, aviators/ Maverick said, a huff accompanying his words. Bradley stared at the phone as did his fellow pilots. What on Earth was the Captain doing? Had he forgotten his address and had it written down somewhere else? What startled the living shit out of him was that the doors to the rusty, old hangar creaked open. Fanboy startled and the rest of them stared in blatant horror. 

What was in there? 

“Morning aviators!” A familiar voice chortled from inside the hangar. Bradley’s phone nearly clattered to the ground along with his jaw. Leaning on the now open door was Maverick, in a white tee and a pair of blue denim jeans, and he was slathered in grease. None of the Daggers standing abreast with him moved nor twitched– they were almost like statues, which Bradley imagined was extremely fitting. 

Maverick’s beaming smile never faltered. “What, you not comin’ in? Well, I guess it’s hot today, young people still like to tan right?” He asked, mirth dripping from his tone. Phoenix – to no one surprise – was the first to recover. “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what uh, what exactly is this?” Maverick’s smile dipped a little as he leaned out and looked up at the hangar, “It’s an old United States Navy hangar. Can’t you read?” 

Bradley didn’t know what to say (he was not gifted in having a speedy reaction time like Natasha), he didn’t even know what to do. How long exactly had Maverick had this place? And how long had he been alone for? In the middle of fucking nowhere, in an old decommissioned hangar? At least… he hoped it was decommissioned. 

“With all due respect, Sir, this– wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.” Payback spoke up unsurely. “Oi, don’t judge just yet, aviators, you haven’t even seen inside.” Bradley stifled a groan at that– did he even want to see inside? The first to move was Bob and Fanboy, with the latter of the two looking far more intrigued than five minutes ago (had he even been here for five minutes…??) 

Bradley met Phoenix’s exasperated look before following after the WSOs. 

As the group of pilots moved out of the warm golden rays of the sun, they were blasted with a fresh, cold stream of air in an almost pitch black hangar. Bradley squinted his eyes, thinking he could make out a large black… shape looming over them. Or that was his eyes making up shit, they’d been doing that ever since the uranium mission, damned concussions. 

“Sorry ‘bout this, didn’t realise you’d be two hours early.” Maverick’s voice was saying from… somewhere. Bradley clicked his phone on and realised they were in fact exactly two hours early. Huh. “Pops, does this place have lights, or do you just have night vision?” Jake asked from his place in the middle of the two rusted steel doors. “Oh, it’s easier to work in the dark,” the older pilot made a hissing sound and a clatter of objects followed in its wake.  

Bradley edged forward slightly, careful to wave himself around the attached forms of Mickey and Reuben, and approached the large silhouette that looked over him ominously. He squinted further, attempting to outline the edge of the figure. As he moved ever closer, something caught on his boot. Looking down, he found an empty tin strewn between the dust particles illuminated by the sun. 

“Aha!” Maverick’s triumphant voice called before there was a flicker of meek light and then the whole hangar was showered in a cold green light from the ceilings. Bradley went to look up at the lights, but his head stopped midway in the action, favouring to take in the sudden appearance of an enormous P-51. Bradley staggered back a step. His duffle slipped off his shoulder and stationed itself in his cubital fossa. He sucked in a breath; what– what was he looking at? 

The P-51 was parked harmlessly in the centre of the hangar, its massive wing span taking up most of the room. Bradley gawked at it, not even processing that there was a steel ladder propped up on the other side of the plane. Maverick strode gleefully back over, beaming ear to ear, “You like ‘er?” He asked.

“Yo– tha– wh–” Coyote fumbled over his words, presumably staring at the same thing Rooster presently was. “That’s a fucking P-51.” Hangman’s voice said. “Yep,” Maverick grinned, popping the p. “In the hangar you apparently live in.” Phoenix added. “Yep.” Maverick answered again. “Is anyone else finding this day just a little difficult?” Fanboy whispered and Rooster could practically hear Payback nod. “Respectfully Sir, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Maverick said something else about refurbishing, but it was drowned out my the sound of Bradley’s heartbeat in his ears, beating shamelessly quickly. Maverick. His dad. Owned a war plane? A plane used for bombing in the second World War and the Cold War? A plane that was sitting in the hangar Maverick apparently owned as well? Bradley ran a hand over his left cheek, dragging some of the skin down with it. This– what was this? 

Was this– some kind of joke? He knew Maverick. He knew he loved to fly and he loved planes – hell the guy had snuck him into the cock pit of an F-14 back in the day when Nick and his mum were on a date night – but… but this was different. Maverick, Pete, owned a P-51? When had this happened? When– 

Bradley sucked down another breath, distrantly aware of Maverick moving over to the other side of the plane, gesturing to something to those that had trailed after him. 

Had he really missed that much? Bradley never thought– he furrowed his brow, not once taking his eyes off the plane. Just because he’d stopped his life with Maverick and gone his own way, didn’t mean that Maverick had put his life on hold. This wasn’t the same Maverick he’d stormed out on. This wasn’t the same Maverick that he’d screamed at mercilessly. This wasn’t the Maverick had lived in the Bradshaw house with Ice. This… he didn’t know this man. 

He didn’t know Maverick anymore. 

He tore his gaze away, looking down at the concert floor. He swallowed down his heartbeat, narrowing his eyes to stave off the salty liquid. Had he taken it too far? Had he missed out on a whole life… because of a miscommunication? Had he wasted sixteen years without his dad? Over what? 

His lips trembled. A drop of sweat dripped down his cheek. His heart fluttered. The ground before him hazed over. He staggered backwards. He– 

“Bradshaw!” 

He snapped his head up, finding Phoenix directly in front of him. “Whoa–” she jerked backwards as to avoid colliding with him. Bradley’s brow deepened and he peered around his best friend’s shoulder, finding the group of aviators had vanished. He looked back at Natasha, realising by the confusion and concern in her features that she’d been calling his name for some time. ‘Shit,’ he cursed mentally, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. “Yeah?” He croaked, and mentally cringed. Phoenix sucked at the corner of her lips, eyeing him with suspicion. “Mav said we better go get setup for the sleep over, since we’re early he’s making us help with the refurbishing.” She explained, nodding over her shoulder dismissively to where the gang were setting up a series of colourful sleeping bags while Maverick pushed a couch out of the way. 

“Right.” Bradley nodded, moving the strap of his duffle back to his shoulder. 

~xXx~

“What did you all want for dinner?” Maverick asked as they all came out of the wash room. Bradley raised an eyebrow at finding the older pilot still looked like he’d taken a shower in grease. He tossed his previously white towel to Hangman before making his way down the wooden steps towards their sleeping bag area. 

“Spaghetti.” Mickey answered hurriedly, blushing a dark crimson at everyone’s buds of laughter. Bradley sat himself down on his navy blue sleeping bag and made himself comfortable as the rest of the Daggers followed his example, with Fanboy being lead over by Maverick who was smiling gleefully. “Yeah, maybe I can organise that for us.” He was saying. 

“You’re telling me there’s a fast food place near here?” Hangman jumped in quickly, a cocky smirk on his face. Maverick shook his head fondly as he all but fell down into the couch he’d been moving earlier. Bradley watched his movements closely. “Of course not, I’m going to make it.” Maverick answered, rolling his eyes. 

That shook a scoff out of Rooster, causing everyone – including his dad – to stare at him. Bradley squirmed under their eyes, “Quite frankly, Mav, I don’t wanna waddle over to the phone to call the fire brigade after you insisted you could ‘cook’ for us again.” The Daggers’ heads all swivelled over to look at Maverick who was gaping at Bradley’s accusation. “Well, Bradley, I don’t entirely believed that is what happened–” 

“Nu uh,” the younger pilot interrupted. The Daggers’ heads swivelled back to him. “I strictly remember running up to the door to give Ice and Sli a hug after they’d returned from a deployment and you saying not to bother with take away because you would cook for everyone. And even though both of them told you not to, you did it anyway, and you wanna know what happened? You somehow managed to burn the frying pan and set Slider’s favourite dish towel on fire.” Bradley retold the events of years ago out loud. He never thought he’d ever do that. Least of all to the group that sat around him now. 

The heads all swivelled back to Maverick, who was looking over at them with a jaw-slacked expression. “Yo– how the hell do you even remember that?! You were like– six!?” The Captain fumbled out. The heads swivelled back to stare at Bradley who smirked before tapping his forehead, “I’ve got all your major slip ups stored up here for safe keeping.” 

Maverick sputtered hopelessly, sagging back into the couch. 

“... we both can agree that was an ugly ass towel though.”

“Oh, for sure. No one ever said Slider’s taste was decent.”

“Wait…” Bob spoke up, eyebrows furrowed, “Do you mean… Admiral Kerner?” The Daggers looked back between Maverick and Rooster like they were at a tennis match. Both he and his dad shared an amused look. Bradley had been waiting to see how long it would take to bring this subject up. “Well, kids,” Maverick leaned forward on his knees and all the aviators basically crawled over to him, sitting at his feet. 

Bradley chuckled and pulled out his phone. 

~xXx~

“God, Sir!” Fanboy gushed, face akin to a child – the tomato paste smeared around his lips making the image even more amusing – as he held up his plate for more spaghetti. “This spaghetti is the best!” Bradley chuckled, twirling his fork around in his dinner. Maverick laughed whole-heartedly and scooped around round of spaghetti into Mickey’s plate. 

“After that story Rooster told, I made you out to be a terrible cook.” Coyote admitted, blushing a tad. “I’ve had lessons from the very best.” The Captain shrugged, sitting down at the table to actually start eating his food. “Which is?” Natasha inquired, raising an eyebrow. Maverick’s gaze filtered over to Bradley before digging into his food. All the Daggers swivelled to look at him expectantly. “Dick,” he muttered bitterly, causing Bob to choke on his lemonade. 

The older pilot shrugged in response but Rooster could see the smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “So who’s the very best? Some other famous navy name you’re pals with?” Hangman drawled, face turning sour. Bradley chuckled, “It does turn out in fact, that Sunny can make a good dish of spaghetti.” He informed and Maverick groaned in agreement, mouth full of food. “I’m sorry,” Payback leaned forward, “‘Sunny’?”

Bradley shrugged, “Sundown,” 

The Daggers all gawked at him. “Okay, I need a list of every famous Navy name you are actually buds with.” Javy demanded, pulling out his phone to make a list. “Well,” Bradley put down his fork, leaned his elbows on the table and turned his head up to the ceiling thoughtfully, “There’s Captain Mitchel, Admiral Kazansky, Admiral Kerner, EX-Captain Williams, EX-Captain Piper, EX-Captain Wells, EX-Admiral Wolfe and… EX-Admiral Neven. Yep, I think that’s it?” 

“Ah,” Maverick said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “Bradley’s dear uncles.” 

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I believe Ice was Pops.” He drew his eyebrows together in horror, faltering slightly at his own use of past tense. When had he come to think of their relationship as in the past..?

Maverick sniggered, having not noticed the flaw in his words. “Icepops.” 

“... shut up, old man.” 

“Icepops! Can we go to the beach pleeeeaase!?” Maverick gave a hideous interpretation of his kid voice that made him cringe. Javy barked out a laugh while everyone else chuckled lightheartedly. “I’m changing the subject now…” Bradley muttered darkly, narrowing his eyes while picking up his fork. “Of course, of course.” Maverick waved his hand as the conversation steadily drove into talk of Payback’s new Cessna. 

~xXx~

A shadow stood with its arms crossed over its chest, standing out against the blue glow of the full moon. The shining light rained down over the hangar, bathing the old steel in a hue of diamonds. Bradley drew a soft breath in, his chest tightening as the icy air filtered through his lungs and through his body. He suppressed a chill, instead favouring to rub his bare palms over the exposed skin of his forearms. 

He exhaled, eyes looking ahead but not seeing. He was in a different world, not just because he could not enter into the realm slumber, but because everyone else had. After their eventful dinner session, Bradley hadn’t met Maverick’s gaze nor gotten to talk to him as a private one on one. Natasha and Bob had been quick to drag him off to show him the photos of himself around the kitchen sink area. He’d blushed a deep crimson as everyone started to aw and Maverick had laughed. The group had begged for child-Bradley stories.

That was five hours ago. 

The green LED lights had been shut off, the golden rays of the sun hidden and the warmth of the desert vanished. As a single man he stood, seemingly watching a pair of house fitches jump around, squawking softly at each other. A stroke of metal under man got his attention. Bradley twisted his upper body around and his eyes locked onto the beautiful P-51 mere feet away from him. By the right side of the plane stood Maverick, a grimace on his face. 

Bradley uncrossed his arms, blinking slowly in confusion as the man did not make a move to approach him. Was this how they were going to be from now on? Putting on a friend– family façade in company but never with just each other? Were they to ignore their untalked about problems with others, but carry it ‘pon their shoulders together? Were they that miserable? 

“I thought you were asleep?” Maverick spoke first, not making a move to step away from the metal wing. Bradley shrugged in response, adjusting his lower half to properly face his dad. “Couldn’t relax.” He offered after a beat of uncomfortable silence. A smile cracked Maverick’s lips, “You still like lullabies?” 

A warm, fuzzy feeling burst through his chest and spread through his nervous system as he allowed himself to smile, recalling the fond memories of Iceman, Slider and Maverick taking turns to sing to him to sleep when his mum had gotten too weak. “Can you actually sing now?” He asked in return, earning a scoff in reply. 

“I could always sing, Bradley.” 

“My ears beg to differ.” 

Maverick shook his head and chuckled, his crows feet crinkling. Bradley’s chest tightened at the jarring reminder of how old his dad had gotten. “Anything you need? Have you shared Ice’s love for horrid herbal tea?” The Captain asked. In actuality, he had, and he’d faced relentless teasing all throughout his days of friendship with Phoenix for it. “You’re telling me you have herbal tea?” He asked instead.

To his surprise Maverick nodded, “Yeah, it’s in the tea cup cupboard.” He explained. “Ha, are you telling me you actually know where something is? Colour me surprised.” Rooster smirked at his dad’s exasperated sputtering. “Har har. You’re quite the talk of the town aren’t you? C’mon, let’s go make some.” So that was how he’d ended up following his dad quietly into the kitchen to prepare a batch of teas for the both of them. 

Maverick had boiled the water and Rooster had been tasked to get the mugs and the tea bags. The older pilot surprisingly had a decent array of teas. He rummaged through a few of them, finally settling on the ‘honey, caramel and vanilla’ flavour and tied the tails to the handles. After the teas were prepared, Maverick led him out to where he’d been standing alone before and had produced sun chairs from God-knows where. 

Bradley relaxed against the soft material, tightening his grip on the warm mug as it steamed in his lap. The two of them sat abreast, watching as the pair of house finches flew around together in circles amidst the black night. He breathed in the steam from his mug, relishing in the warm soggy feel to his cheeks. 

They sat together for a time, watching the two finches with great interest– or, at least Maverick was. Rooster wasn’t quite sure what he’d been thinking (or rather, not thinking) about until the old man decided to speak up. “I’m glad you and the guys came up here,” Bradley looked over at him, watching the small, sad smile tug at his lips. “It’s been a while since the hangar was so full of life and sound.” 

Something in his chest tightened at the statement. How long had his dad been so alone for? “We’ll come anytime you want, Mav.” Bradley said. Maverick gave a small chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “I mean it. Say the word and we’ll come running. They adore you.” His cheeks burned as his dad turned to look at him, surprised. “Finally, I get to be the cool uncle.” Maverick said. 

“More like the inconvenient grandpa.” Scoffed Rooster.

“Oi!” 

“What?” “Inconvenient grandpas are cool.”

“Never said they weren’t.” “You implied it.” “Did not.” “Did too.” “Did not.” 

Maverick rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair, gently blowing at his tea. 

Rooster took a sip of his scalding tea and tried his best not to spit it right back out. His eyes burned by the time he’d actually swallowed it. “Let it cool, Bradley.” Maverick said while taking a sip from his tea. Bradley raised an unamused eyebrow as his dad started fanning his tongue. “Let it cool, dad.” 

Maverick halted his fanning. 

Bradley furrowed his brow in confusion. What was wro–

Oh.

An uneasy swirl of green dread burst through out his stomach during the long silence. “Mav– Mav I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–” he stumbled out, quickly placing his mug beside his chair and sat erect in his chair, unable to think of the words to express his fatal mistake. Maverick didn’t make a move to sit up, place his mug down or even look at Bradley. 

Rooster cursed inwardly while staring with wide eyes at his dad, he could feel the tears brimming. He hadn’t meant to let it slip– he knew they weren’t ready yet… but his tongue had slipped along with whatever was left to salvage of their fractured relationship. He’d done it. He’d finally fucked everything up just like he knew he would. 

He knew this idea was a bad idea. Just because Maverick had opened up about why he’d pulled Bradley’s papers and Bradley had unmuted the older pilot’s contact didn’t mean they could continue from where they’d left off– did either of them even really remember what it was like before… the fallout? 

Was this their sign? 

Were they not actually meant to be a family?

Were they destined to always be apart? 

“Bradley.” 

Rooster flinched and his eyes locked with Maverick’s, who had moved from his chair and was now kneeling in front of him, gripping his bare hands. “I’m–” the younger pilot croaked, but the words fell dry on his capped lips. “Shh, it’s alright.” Maverick ushered, his spare hand wrapping around Bradley’s nape and pulling him into an unbalanced embrace. Bradley clenched his dad’s hands tightly, melting against Maverick’s shoulder. 

“It’s alright, kid. It’s alright.” Bradley did his best to shake his head but the Captain simply started threading his fingers through the younger pilot’s golden locks. “It’s alright.”

 

~xXx~

Phoenix -

Waking up to find the P-51 gone was alarming. What was more alarming was that both Rooster and Maverick were nowhere to be seen. “How the hell did we miss them and the massive war plane disappear!?” Payback all but screeched as half the Daggers busied themselves with either searching the hangar or ringing the missing pilot’s phones. 

“Wait.” Bob spoke up, moving towards the door of the hangar with his hand over his eyes. “I think I see something…” Phoenix approached her WSO and peered out, attempting to locate the object that had snatched his attention. Once she saw it, she couldn’t help but smile. The P-51 was approaching the tarmac and once it landed the canopy slid off, relieving Maverick slapping Rooster’s shoulders from the backseat. Rooster beamed from the front. ‘Idiots.’ 

[vxntagedior]

reader being a tease and giving bradley hickies in the form of her first initial

"honey." bradley moaned, "you're gonna leave a mark."

"i know." you smirked, continuing to suck on a pulse point of his neck. "i want to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

and you were right. bradley woke up the next morning, to see your hickies in the form of your initial.

rolling his eyes, he tried to cover as much as could but the top was still peaking out of his uniform.

"get malled by a beat rooster?" hangman snorted watching him walk onto the base.

"something like that." rooster grinned, starting to undress himself for a shower, hearing a gasp he turned to see hangman cracking up.

"your girl marked you." he snorted.

"shut up." he smacked his back with his towel.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

the tortured poets department series

updated april twentieth, twenty twenty four

javy "coyote" machado

side A: who's afraid of little old me? // side B: the black dog // the lost tape: the smallest man who ever lived

jake "hangman" seresin

i can fix him (no really i can)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw

the bolter

[liahswriting]

(S)witch Team?

Relationship(s): Lt. Jake "Hangman" Seresin/Original Female Character, Lt. Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Original Female Character, Lt. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace/Original Female Character

Words: 2,200

Warnings: None

Summary: Hangman and Rooster think they have a chance at dating their friend Knockout, but Phoenix is convinced they're wasting their breath.

She was just a friend. That's it. Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Knockout were like 4 peas in a pod. She had known them for years, been by their side in battle, had seen their best and worst. She was there when Hangman got his air to air kill. She was there when Rooster had graduated aviation school. She was there when Phoenix had been given her call sign. They were all inseparable, despite the constant bickering and arguing that happened when they were together.

She was a friend.

She was their best friend.

And yet, somehow, Rooster and Hangman got the idea that they had a chance with her. Phoenix wasn't sure when exactly it started, but she noticed how both men began to eye Knockout when she walked into the room; their eyes would skim her up and down and they'd lick their lips. Then it evolved to blatant flirting with her. They weren't shy with their comments about how beautiful she looked, or how she'd look nice sitting on someone's knee. But when they were questioned about this newfound interest, they passed it off as them just teasing their friend. And she didn't mind it. She laughed along with their flirts. Even threw some back. And then finally both Hangman and Rooster started going at each other over who had a better chance at scoring her.

Phoenix was sick of hearing the two of them brag about themselves to each other, claiming they were what she was looking for when in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Any time she walked away, they were at each other's throat.

"She likes me more!" they'd say, and then rattle off some bullshit example trying to prove them right. Like if Knockout hugged one of them but not the other, that was proof. Or if she tossed out a specific flirt, that was proof too. They were like school children fighting over a new toy.

"I'm gonna go get another drink." Knockout said, stacking her pool cue against the table and walking away. As soon as she was out of earshot, the arguing started.

"Give up, Bradshaw. You don't stand a chance." Hangman immediately got the first word in.

"Don't know how you managed to become a pilot with how god damn blind you are." Rooster spit right back.

"The day she stoops so low as to choose you over me is the day Earth stops spinning." smirked Hangman, twirling that toothpick in his mouth.

"I'm the better man for her!"

"No, I am!"

"You're both wrong." Phoenix cut in.

"Stay outta this, sweetheart." Hangman told her.

"No. I'm tired of hearing you both fight over a woman you'll never get in a million years."

"Just because you're not eye catching, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't either." insulted Hangman.

"I'm just trying to protect you both. Although I'm starting to think you deserve the humiliation."

"Protect us from what? Good sex? Go be a cock block somewhere else." said Rooster with a roll of his eyes.

"She's gay." blurted Phoenix. Both men turned to her and laughed at her.

"Oh yeah?" challenged Hangman. "What the hell gives you that impression?"

"Well, for one, she checks out women more often than you do her."

"All women do that." replied Rooster, not at all convinced.

"Yeah, that's not proof of anything." Hangman backed him up.

"Alright. How about the fact that she's getting real close and personal with that woman at the bar?" Phoenix then pointed out, extending a finger toward Knockout and a pretty little blonde hanging out at the bar top.

Knockout was leaning her back against the top as the woman she was chatting up stood in front of her, real close and cozy. Both women were laughing at something or other, so much so that the woman had doubled over and braced her hands on Knockout as she laughed. Knockout didn't seem to mind the contact at all.

"That's nothing." commented Hangman with a scoff. "I've seen women do way more than that and not be gay."

"Porn doesn't count." chuckled Phoenix.

"Oh please. I've seen you adjust another woman's bra strap for her." Rooster brought up as if he hit the nail on the head.

"You're right. I did." admitted the brunette pilot. "And then I fucked her afterwards."

"Bullshit." both men dismissed her. Phoenix shrugged giving up on the fight.

"Fine. Continue this little battle. But when Knockout makes a fool out of you, don't come crying to me and say I didn't warn ya."

"She'd choose me in a heartbeat. I bring more to the table.... and the bedroom." smirked Hangman, once again twirling that stupid toothpick.

"Of course you have to bring stuff to the bedroom; women have to find someway to get an orgasm since you can't find the clit." spat Rooster, getting up in the other man's face, begging for a fight.

"Will you two idiots stop arguing?" came Knockout's voice. "The entire bar can hear you." she laughed.

The trio turned to her, watching as she approached them with a fresh round for each of them. She handed a drink to everyone, with many thanks.

"We're not arguing, sweetheart." smiled Hangman.

"Yeah. We're just talking." Rooster followed up.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head."

"Then why the hell are you two yelling about cock blocking and clits?"

Phoenix sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest and awaiting how the two of them were gonna get out of this one.

"No no, pretty girl, you misheard us." diverted Rooster, and Phoenix groaned.

"Okay. I can't take it anymore. Girl, they've been fighting with each other over who has a better chance at getting into your pants!" Phoenix cried out. She threw her hands up in the air in exhaustion. If this thing didn't end soon, she'll go drown herself in the ocean.

"Thanks, Phoenix." both men deadpanned. They shot daggers at her. But Knockout just laughed.

"Seriously? That's what this whole thing was about?"

"Yes, and I'm tired of it. They won't shut up about who's superior."

"And?" Knockout asked, turning her attention back to the two men. They leaned against their pool cues.

"And what?" Rooster urged, confused.

"Who's superior?" she demanded to know. Hangman and Rooster took one look at each other and then exploded.

"I'm obviously the better man!" they yelled out simultaneous.

"Tell this idiot you wouldn't give him a second glance even if your life depended on it!" cried Rooster, nodding his head to the pilot beside him.

"No, tell this idiot that he needs to get his head out of his ass and set some realistic expectations for himself!" Hangman followed up.

Knockout laughed. She didn't say a single word, just laughed. She doubled over, trying to hold herself up by the pool table as she cackled out the most guttural laugh she could muster.

"What's so funny?!" the men demanded.

"You two!" she laughed back.

"Come on, be serious! If you had to choose between us, who would you choose?!" the offer was slapped on the metaphorical table by Hangman. For once, Rooster teamed up with him and backed him up. They both looked at her expectantly.

She straightened up, wiping her eyes clear of the tears that had accumulated. But when she saw their unwavering expressions, she got more serious.

"Come on, guys. You're joking, right?"

"No they're not. I keep telling them you're not interested." chimed Phoenix.

"She's convinced you're gay." Rooster rolled his eyes.

"Oh really?" Knockout said in disbelief, turning her attention to the woman. Her eyes were wide with playful contemption as she stared the woman down.

Phoenix shrunk back in her chair, not liking the odds of this conversation. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she had Knockout pegged all wrong and Rooster and Hangman had an actual bite on her.

"Yeah, tryna tell us both that we're wasting our breath." Rooster brought the conversation back, allowing Phoenix a break from the stares of the woman.

"I don't think you're wasting your breath." commented Knockout in a sweet voice. She stepped a little closer to the two men, putting up the flirtatious act. Or, well, maybe it wasn't an act. Phoenix wasn't so sure anymore.

"So tell us. Who would you choose?" Hangman asked again.

Knockout looked between them for a moment, entertaining their idea. Still, even if she wasn't gay, Phoenix was positive she wouldn't spare them the time. They were friends, damn it! She wasn't interested in them!

Too many seconds had passed for their liking. The two of them urged her again for an answer, cocking their eyebrows and getting closer to her.

But she backed away from them. She gave a sweet smile, then turned towards Phoenix in her seat, approached her, climbed in her lap, took her face in her hands, and crashed their lips.

Phoenix's breath hitched and her entire body tensed underneath the woman. Her eyes widened, her brain stopped working. But Knockout grinded into her lap and tangled her fingers in the babyhairs underneath her bun, and Phoenix was gone.

Her hands grabbed the woman's waist, keeping her locked in her lap. Phoenix probed her tongue into Knockout's mouth, mapping her out. Both women moaned lightly, making Phoenix's head swim with endorphines.

But it was all ended when Knockout pulled away. She held a smirk on her kissed lips, confident, proud. She used her thumb to wipe away the glisten that had accumulated on Phoenix's mouth. And then she slid off her lap and grabbed her drink she left on the pool table.

Phoenix's eyes snapped between her and the men. Her male friends seemed to be just as surprised as she was. Jaws had slackened to the floor, eyes had gone as wide as saucers, and maybe one of them popped a boner but she wasn't really paying attention to that.

Pride had swelled in her chest at seeing them like this. She was right. She had been right all along.

"Told you!" she smirked triumphantly. Her cry of victory pulled the men out of their shell-shock.

"I can't fucking believe it." murmured Hangman.

"Oh my god. She's gay." Rooster seemed to say more so to himself than anyone else, like he was convincing himself. Knockout just kept sipping on her drink. "You're gay." he repeated, turning his attention to her.

"Oh you both are so adorable. I'm not gay." she chuckled. And the three of them jumped to attention.

"What?!" they all yelled incredulously.

"You're not?!" Phoenix sputtered in disbelief. "But- the kiss!"

"No. I'm not." she grabbed Rooster by the collar of his uniform and yanked until he bent to her level. "I'm bi." and then she gave him a kiss just as heated as the one she gave Phoenix, forcing her tongue into his mouth.

They battled tongues for a good moment, getting him all heated and needy, before she pulled back and gave his cheek a quick pat. His eyes were clouded with confused lust, watching her turn to walk away.

"I'll catch you guys back on base." she threw over her shoulder.

"Hey! Wait!" Hangman called after her. She stopped and turned back around with a knowing grin.

"What?" she held her hands on her hips.

"What about me?!" he asked, offended.

Gingerly, she stepped up to him and held his chin between her fingers. His eyes were hopeful as he watched her every move.

"Get rid of that god damn toothpick and then we'll talk." she presented the offer. Without missing a beat, Hangman spit the chewed up piece of wood to the floor and then pulled her in by her waist to kiss her.

This time, it wasn't Knockout that lead the kiss. Hangman was the one to pry her lips open with his tongue, and his hands gripped both her ass and her loose locks. He kissed her with ferver, eager for more, begging for more, trying for more. But she didn't allow him more. She placed her hands on his chest and forced him away. He was left with just as dazed an expression as Rooster.

She patted his cheek like she did Rooster and chuckled. She caressed his face in her hands, pressing her thumb between his lips. He gladly sucked it into his mouth.

"Desperation looks good on you, Lieutenant." she said, and then pulled away completely. She reached down to the ground, picking up his disregarded toothpick and stuck it back between his slack lips. "Don't litter." was all she said, and then she turned to walk away again, this time managing to get out the door.

[marauderskeeper]

Val Kilmer making his “Iceman” cameo and them doing ai voice so he could talk 🥹 the tears were real REAL. Another part I absolutely LOVED & shed tears over was when Rooster said “talk to me, dad" and then seconds later Mav starts talking to him & giving reassurance. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Could use a hug right about now