#Bradley rooster Bradshaw

[stardewsvalley]

Miles Teller as Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Top Gun: Maverick (2022) dir. Joseph Kosinski

[military-newsboys]

Mav: If someone threatened you, I'd hunt them down to the ends of the earth to make them pay. Ice: If you asked, I would frame everyone in this room for murder without a second thought. slider, questioning his life choices: You guys know normal couples don't say these things to each other, right?

[lupuslikethewolf]

in honour of being promoted to Deputy Stage Manager in my school's theatre department, top gun high school/sixth form au:

Dr Kazansky rules the drama department with an iron fist. always wearing black turtlenecks. never seen without his glasses, his coffee, and his terrifying glare (which earned him the moniker Dr Iceman). do not show up to rehearsals if you don't know your lines. death be upon the poor students who fuck around during tech and dress, because they will find out. he loves the crew tho.

Mr Call-Me-Mav Mitchell is the head of sports. you name it, he's played it, and he could absolutely give you pointers, also, do you want a protein bar with that? it's chocolate flavoured :) even the kids who Hate (capital H) sports love him. he is sunshine and adrenaline in human form. endless energy. no one knows why he is called maverick, but even the principal does it, so.

Mr Kerner is the principal. he is also the only person who can interrupt rehearsals and survive. dr kazansky loves him. inexplicably, maverick hates him. nough said.

Jake Seresin is the school's golden child, not even because he's Kazansky's nephew. he’s head boy. he’s on the school’s football/rugby team. he writes regular articles for the internal magazines. and this year, he’s playing Orpheus in the school’s production of Hadestown. everyone thinks it’s nepotism. it is and it’s not, jake just lost a bet to his Uncle Tom, and must now reap the consequences to said uncle’s delight.

Bradley Bradshaw has been stage crew since he was thirteen and an overworked runner, thank you very much. it’s his final show, he’s the DSM, and if fucking seresin ruins this for him, he will riot. dr kazansky should never let that happen. however, this is the same man who, last year, laughed when revealing that a screen on stage had turned off and bradley had to go on stage during the show to fix it. hm. maybe bradley should have re-thought his life choices. also: the turntable. the goddamn turntable.

other characters include: phoenix as eurydice, bob doing lighting, payback and fanboy as ASMs who flirt over the comms to everyones misery, cyclone as another drama teacher/stage manager,

maverick keeps turning up to rehearsals and trying to help because his favourite (cough only cough) godson and his favourite player are both interested in this stuff, so he should at least try, right? kazansky hates it until he doesn’t. kerner thinks it’s all fucking hilarious. bradley is embarrassed but its kinda endearing do NOT tell him i said that.

kazansky and maverick both bare witness to A Moment between their respective pseudo sons and decide the two simply must get together for their sakes and also so they never inflict that on another person ever.

bradley and jake both bare witness to A Moment between their respective pseudo fathers and decide the two simply must get together for their sakes and also so they never inflict that on another person ever.

kerner is cackling. Cackling.

[themissingmango]

[the-ace-with-spades]

I don't think Mav would ever tell Bradley why he pulled his papers.

(Partially because I think Carole's promise was just an excuse to give into Mav's own fears, but that's a thought for another post...)

I think he'd tell him how afraid for Bradley he was, how he knew firsthand you could be the best of the best and accidents still happened, there were still people who would not give you the same trust in the air, who would not sacrifice as much as you were willing to. That he's been in the Navy for years by the point Bradley applied for the academy and he's seen what kind of people mostly thrive in there and what kind of people wilt and he didn't want Bradley to become either.

I think Mav kept Carole's image as clear as possible in Bradley's head and he'd try to not 'stain' her memory for him. Even if he said Carole was afraid for Bradley to fly, he'd never tell him the whole truth about her making Mav promise to keep him from flying. Rather, I think he'd take on some of her fears as his own and confess to them as the reason why he did what he did and take the blame.

[bo0tleg]

Despite being head over heels in love with Ice and Mav's dynamic in the original Top Gun, the same dynamic in Top Gun Maverick with Rooster and Hangman never worked for me. This is my attempt at voicing why:

DISCLAIMER: This was not created with the intention to offend anybody who ships Hangster/Sereshaw. It is simply my understanding of their relationship, and why it doesn't appeal to me. Opinions are like the butthole, everybody has their own. By all means, continue shipping them if you want to, this is only for fun.

Hangman and Rooster's entire relationship is based on resentment.

Unlike Mav and Ice, they have history. There's something from the past that lingers in all of their interactions, poisoning all of their words and actions.

Hangman is frustrated with Rooster, all the time. Of course, he banters with everyone, Phoenix about her gender, Bob about his callsign, but those are more 5th Grader Playground insults than anything. It's different with Rooster, and not in a good way.

When it comes to Rooster, Hangman goes straight to insult his character. He doubts his judgement, insults his way of being and flying, prods about how he needs to change if he wants to fly the mission.

With Ice, he was criticizing Maverick, not insulting him. Hangman is both criticizing AND insulting Rooster because he perceives him in a less that ideal light.

Hangman doesn't understand why Rooster flies the way that he does, and doesn't try to either. He just sees it as wrong and doesn't think twice about it. He goes straight to insulting him because he thinks that it's wrong, and that it's something about Rooster that needs to be fixed.

And Rooster is constantly exasperated because of it. Hangman prods, and jabs, and insults Rooster, but it never works. The more Hangman pokes, the more Rooster closes up, frustrated. He gets angry, pissed and becomes much LESS inclined to listen to anything Hangman is saying.

Rooster doesn't work well under pressure. And that's the only way Hangman operates.

Throughout the movie, Rooster doesn't listen to Hangman once. He might've been right about Rooster being too slow, but it only fell on deaf ears (not to say that he was right to bring up Goose's death, he was defo wrong about that one). All it causes is strife, to the point where Rooster almost punches Hangman because of how infuriating he was to him.

The entire movie, Hangman provoked Rooster to get him to stop being the way he is, because he sees it as a flaw of character. And it doesn't work.

Rooster only drops his need for playing it safe when Maverick tells him to 'Not think, just do'. Because Mav only gave him a push in the right direction, not throw in his face all of his flaws.

(Side note: This is also the reason Rooster doesn't listen to Mav in their argument, because he thinks Maverick was insulting his way of being by saying he wasn't ready. On the mission, by selecting Rooster as his wingman, he recognizes that he is ready, and that he trusts him with his life. Making him more inclined to listen to Mav once in the canyon.)

A relationship where one person is constantly frustrated by the other and the other is constantly exasperated by the former doesn't work.

Because that's how they are, and that's how they function, and it isn't going to change.

Rooster isn't going to stop frustrating Hangman because that's how he works, and Hangman isn't going to stop making Rooster exasperated because he doesn't know how else to voice his feelings.

I can see where the ship comes from, because obviously. Their homoerotic tension could be seen from space. I totally believe that they might have had a fling in the past that ended badly, and that they possibly could have hooked up at some point in the movie in the 'Hate Sex' vein of things. I just don't think it'd be anything beyond that.

They wouldn't work in the long haul, is what I'm trying to say.

They're too similar, and too different at the same time.

They're both hothead stubborn motherfuckers that couldn't come to an agreement if they tried.

And you might show me the scene where Hangman is happy about Dagger 2 hitting the target, and him being absolutely devastated when the same hornet is shot down. I recognize it, it demonstrates care. Hangman cares.

Thing is, that doesn't change anything that I said prior to that.

It's possible to resent, despise, be bitter towards and irritated by someone and still care about them. It's possible to hate them and still care. Hate them, and feel like you don't hate them all the time. Human emotion is a funny thing like that, nothing is ever black and white, always varying shades of gray.

Just because they hate each other (and yes, that is the reading I have on them, doesn't stop them from being horny fuckers about each other tho) doesn't mean they want the other dead.

I believe it's similar to the sentiment of "I hope you get everything you ever wished for, and that I never hear a word about it". Similar, but not the same, in a way I do not know how to describe. Thus, I used that to give the same vibe.

I can't see any future for them, in any shape or form. They hold too many grudges against each other, and both of them have a tendency of holding on to old (bad) feelings far too strongly. Even if they work through whatever problems they have now, new ones would emerge and they would go through the same process again and again and again.

That isn't healthy nor stable. It's not what either of them should strive for in a relationship. With that, I'd probably say that both of them need stable people that hold logic to high regard, and that are easy going (I say that in general terms, with no one specific in mind for either of them).

All that being said, this is my opinion. This is how I view them, and understand their relationship. They don't work for me because I see no logical way they could.

If they work for you, that's great! Enjoy the air gays 2.0 to your hearts contentment, I'm happy for you.

This was just a fun analysis of my vision, with no intention to diminish anyone who might enjoy them.

[hero-in-waiting]

Bradley/Jake, M, 25k

In a world where your soulmate's initials are written over your heart, the last thing Bradley ever expected was to find out after almost a decade of arguments and not-so-friendly competition was that Hangman was his soulmate. It was fine. Really. He was totally fine with it. They could figure it out. Really. It would be fine. Totally fine.

[indybob]

Currently listening to this song on loop and feeling very, very emotional about hangster🤧

[cowboysandpilots]

Secrets of a 30-Year-Old Flyboy — ch. 3

Fake Roonix, Secret Hangster | Words: 780 | Warnings: Blood, medical stuff, sickness, miscommunications, and boys being stupid.

"They said he had a dangerously high fever, and his appendix burst. That's all I got before they rushed him into surgery." Tears had gathered in the blue eyes behind glasses but he was trying to hold them back, keeping up appearances. Bradley had looked so similar to after the accident, blood on his face and unconscious.

Stepping closer, Mav wrapped his arm around Ice’s waist and leaned into his side. He held him tightly. Mav knew what Ice was remembering. “It’s not like that this time,” he murmured to him. “Appendixes happen all the time. It’s routine surgery.” Maverick didn’t voice that he was worried about the fact that Bradley had been in the air. He’d been sustaining G-force pressures with a bad appendix. What kind of damage did that do? He knew it was normal for the average person, but this wasn’t normal. Because, of course, nothing had to be normal about Bradley.

Phoenix shooed the squadron to take seats. She focused on them to give her something to do while being sick with worry. The least she could do was make everyone give Bradley’s Godfathers some privacy. She felt awful because she had teased Bradley in the locker room instead of asking how he was doing. She’d seen that he didn’t feel good.

While everyone else took a seat, Jake hadn’t been able to do so. He stood off to the side, with his back pressed against the wall. He couldn’t stop the fine tremors that were running through him or the waves of dizziness. "It's not like last time." Ice repeats with a nod, exactly like Bradley would do when he was trying to convince himself of something. A mannerism that he must've picked up from the other man.

"What happened last time?" Bob asks, clearly listening and not reading the room.

Phoenix tried to shush Bob, flapping a hand in his face. “Not now, dude,” she hissed. She knew a little bit about the accident, just a few things Bradley had said or that she figured out.

Maverick turned his glower to Bob. All of his sour attitude from earlier returned full force and once again focused on the entire squadron. “There was an accident,” he said, voice clipped. “Now keep your noses to yourself about it.”

"Sorry," Bob says softly, immediately backing down and looking away like a little kid getting scolded by their father.

It's about 5 minutes later when they're all sitting in the waiting room. A nurse makes his way to Ice and pulls him off to the side. "Sir, your son came in with these on around his neck. We had to remove them for the surgery and want to make sure they're kept safe." She explains, handing two sets of dog tags to the admiral.

Accepting both sets of dog tags, Ice frowned and looked down at them in his hand. He rolled them until he could see the stamped text. Bradley’s and…Seresin’s? He frowned as he turned his attention back to the nurse. “Thank you,” he said, glancing down at the tags again. “He was wearing both sets?” Ice can’t help but ask, not understanding what was going on with this at all. It was bad enough that Bradley was in surgery. He couldn’t focus on much beyond his worry.

"Yes, sir. They were both around his neck when he came in." She places a gentle hand on his arm. "I'll be back to give you updates on the surgery when I have them."

Nodding, Ice looks back down at the tags in his hand before he steps away. “Thank you,” he says again before he returns to Maverick’s side. Sitting heavily in the chair next to his husband, Iceman stares at the tags in his hand for a moment longer before he shifts and slides them into his pocket. He glances at where Hangman is leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room before he turns his attention back to Maverick. “No update yet,” he said with a heavy sigh. “She just wanted to give me his tags, for safekeeping. And Seresin’s as well. Bradley was wearing them.”

Maverick turns and blinks at his husband. "I'm sorry... what did you just say?" He frowns.

“You heard me,” Ice said dryly as he leaned back in his chair and took Maverick’s hand in his own. There was a fine tremor in Ice’s hands that he was trying to hide from everyone else. “He was also wearing Hangman’s dog tags.”

Maverick is absolutely stunned, speechless. "But he... they..." He clears his throat a little. "Are you sure they're not Phoenix's dog tags?" He asks quietly.

——

I wanted to make this one longer but I forgot about Tumblrs stupid text limit. 😭 Thanks for reading! 💕 Donate to my food fund if you want. 🥰

[sdrose93]

Mav and Rooster ❤❤

[military-newsboys]

Gourd: And you guys are ? Maverick: Tired Rooster: Dead inside Bob: Anxious Hangman: Hungry Phoenix: Phoenix: We're the dagger squad I am so sorry

[rosiahills22]

I’m always so out of the loop in this fandom, I feel like when all the drama is happening, I’m the person 50 feet away staring at clouds

😅

[bellaireland1981]

Coming Soon...

Bradley Bradshaw x Female! Mitchell! Reader one shot dropping tomorrow!

Summary: You have loved Bradley forever. Since you were 7 years old to be exact. It took him a little longer to catch up, but you were finally there. It was your wedding day.... the first day of your forever.

This week has been rough.... personally and on this site. I was hoping to get more writing done but am happy that I was able to get this one out. I hope to find inspiration and motivation to write more on my other series this week.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 390. brb x oc

a/n: we're nearing the end ;~; aaaa(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

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(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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@lyn-js

-

Beatrice chewed the sandwich as she sits next to Rooster,who was now lying on his back with his hands behind his back, completely relaxed in this little clearing, the water rippling in the distance, “This is so nice.”

Rooster nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the canopy of trees above as he enjoyed the peaceful moment with Beatrice. "Yeah, it really is," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Sometimes, it's the simple things in life that bring us the most joy."

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, she leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek before settling back against the blanket, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. Albeit it was still fall, it was warm enough for her to wear a dress.

"I couldn't agree more," she murmured, her voice soft, "...I like Virginia.”

‘Yeah?”

‘I mean, not only is it where you are from,” she smiles “But…I like it here, I’ve never visited before meeting you.”

"I'm glad you like it here, Bea," he replied warmly, his voice filled with sincerity, "Virginia holds a special place in my heart, and knowing that you enjoy it too...well, it just makes it even more special."

Beatrice smiled at Rooster, her eyes shining with affection as she squeezed his hand gently. "I can see why," she murmured softly, "It's such a beautiful state, with so much history and charm. And being here with you just makes it all the more magical."

Rooster's heart swelled with love for the woman beside him, feeling grateful for the opportunity to share his home with her. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he whispered softly, "You make everything more magical, Bea."

Beatrice blushed at Rooster's words, her cheeks flushing pink as she met his gaze with a shy smile. "You're too sweet, Roos," she replied softly, her voice filled with warmth, "But it's true. Being with you...it's like being in a fairy tale."

Rooster chuckled, feeling a rush of happiness wash over him at Beatrice's words. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, his touch gentle and tender. "Well, if this is a fairy tale, then you're definitely my princess.’

"And you're my knight in shining armor," she shot back, her voice filled with laughter, "Rescuing me from the monotony of everyday life."

“Monotony?Gorgeous.” he scoffs “Your life wasn’t monotone.”

She gives him a look.

“...it wasn’t that monotone.” he smirks “You were just dealing with your own stuff,baby.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes playfully at Rooster's teasing, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Fine, maybe it wasn't all monotone," she conceded with a chuckle, "But you did bring some excitement into my life, that's for sure."

"Well, I'm glad I could be of service," he replied with a wink, "And I'll make sure to keep the excitement coming."

Beatrice laughed, squeezing Rooster's hand gently as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you," she murmured against his lips.”You are great at it Lt.Commander.”

His pupils enlarged immediately and he smirked, “I do try.” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear “...coming here wasn’t so bad.”

“It wasn’t.”

“...kinda crazy.” he chuckled, rubbing her bare thigh as he lies back down, “...I didn’t wanted to come here and…I ended up coming anyway.”

"Yeah, it's funny how life works out sometimes," she agreed softly, her voice filled with nostalgia, "But I'm grateful that we ended up here together."

Rooster nodded in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Beatrice's arm as he gazed up at the sky. "Me too," he murmured, "Thanks, by the way.”

“For?”

“Giving me the push to come here.” he huffs softly “...I feel better…before we go though…can we visit my parents?”

She smiles softly, she had a feeling he’d ask that. She leans on a hand, tilting her head at him, “...honey, you don’t have to ask me, you know I don’t mind going to the cemetery with you.” she says, rubbing his cheek “If you want, we sure can go…we’ll leave tomorrow anyway, I don’t see why not.”

And he lets out a breath he had no idea why he was holding, “...thanks,gorgeous.I know, I just want to ask anyway.” he purses his lips “Tell them the news and all that,you know.”

“Of course I know.” she smiles, “They’ll be proud to hear about your promotion,Roos. You know that.”

Rooster smiled gratefully at Beatrice, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips, his lips lingering against hers as he whispered softly, "Thank you, Bea. You always know just what to say."

Beatrice returned Rooster's kiss with equal tenderness,he cupped his face in her hands, her fingers tracing the contours of his jaw as she looked into his eyes.

"You don't have to thank me, Roos," she replied softly, her voice filled with warmth, "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. And if visiting your parents will bring you peace, then I'm always all for it."

After a while, Beatrice broke the silence, her voice soft and tentative. "Roos," she began, her voice tinged with curiosity, "Can I ask you something?"

Rooster looked down at Beatrice, his gaze filled with warmth and affection as he nodded. "Of course, gorgeous," he replied, "You can ask me anything."

Beatrice took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she gathered her thoughts. "I was just wondering...would…it–I don’t know, be odd-hah.” she clears her throat “To…maybe…get a place here?”

He blinks at her, slowly pushing himself on his elbows, “...what?”

“In the future! N-Not now!I mean–” she smiles “The kids might like that, the dogs too and…” she shrugs softly “I-If that’s okay,I mean.”

Rooster's eyes widened in surprise at Beatrice's question, his mind racing with thoughts of the future. He sat up slowly, his gaze never leaving Beatrice's face as he considered her words.

"A place here?" he repeated, his voice tinged with astonishment, "In Virginia?"

Beatrice nodded, her cheeks flushing pink as she met Rooster's gaze with a shy smile. "Yeah, I mean...if that's something you'd be open to," she replied softly, her voice filled with uncertainty, "I just thought...since you have roots here and all, it might be nice to have a place of our own. Like…we’d still have our house in California–I-I am I making sense?!!"

He reached out to take her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers as he met her gaze with a tender smile.

"Bea," he began softly, his voice filled with warmth, "You always know how to surprise me. And I mean that in the best possible way."

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, her eyes shining with affection as she squeezed his hand gently. "I just…really?”

“Baby,yes. I mean,if it’s possible for us to have,maybe a vacation home here,why not?”

“...Oh.”

He smirks “Oh?”

“OhI,I mean…I just,I don’t want you to be overworked? I mean,I know we might have to move but…I just, you know–”

"Hey, listen," he said softly, his voice filled with reassurance, "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But...if having a place here is something that would make you happy, then it's worth it to me. And besides, it wouldn't be just for me, it would be for us. To have a place where we can come and relax, and make memories together."

“...oh.”

“You surprised?’

“I…” she shrugs “A little?I guess.”

Rooster chuckled softly at Beatrice's admission, a warm smile playing on his lips as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Well, get used to it, gorgeous," he teased, "Because I have a feeling there will be many more surprises in our future."

"I can't wait," she murmured against his lips, smiling.

Rooster smiled against Beatrice's lips, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him in her presence. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they shared a moment of pure bliss.

"To us," he whispered softly, his voice filled with warmth, "And to all the beautiful moments we'll share together."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. "To us," 

–

Beatrice stood quietly as Rooster approached his parents' resting place, giving him the space he needed to grieve and pay his respects. She watched him from a distance, gently wringing her hands together.

As Rooster knelt beside the grave, Beatrice felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She wished she could take away his pain, but she knew that grief was something he had to face on his own.

After a while, Rooster looked back at her, then nodded forward, “Join me?”

Beatrice's heart clenched at the vulnerability in Rooster's eyes, but she nodded and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She knelt beside him, feeling the weight of their shared sorrow pressing down on her chest.

Silently, they sat together, their hands intertwined as they gazed at the gravestones in front of them. The air was heavy with emotion, filled with the memories of the loved ones they had lost.

After a while, Rooster broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think they are happy.” he smiles “About everything.”

“I think so too,Roos…how do you feel?”

Rooster took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the gravestones as he tried to put his feelings into words. "I feel...sad," he admitted softly, "But also...grateful. And...hopeful, too. Hopeful for the future, for what's to come."

Rooster smiled at Beatrice, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he whispered softly, "Thank you, Bea. For being here with me."

Beatrice returned Rooster's kiss with equal tenderness, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close as they shared a moment of quiet solace. “You are welcome,Roos.”

They sat together in silence for a while longer, lost in their thoughts as they processed their emotions. Eventually, Rooster stood up, offering Beatrice a hand to help her to her feet.

"Ready to go, gorgeous?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth.

Beatrice nodded, her eyes shining with affection as she took Rooster's hand in hers. "Yeah, if you are," she replied, “You sure you are okay?”

Rooster smiled reassuringly at Beatrice, his gaze soft and filled with gratitude. "I am," he replied sincerely, "Being here with you makes everything better. Thank you for coming with me."

Beatrice returned Rooster's smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at his words. She squeezed his hand gently as they turned to leave the cemetery behind.

When they reached the car, Rooster held the door open for Beatrice, his actions filled with tenderness and care. She climbed into the passenger seat, laughing softly at him

As Rooster got behind the wheel, Beatrice reached out to place a hand on his arm, offering him a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you for letting me be a part of this, Roos," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity, "It means a lot to me."

Rooster glanced at Beatrice, his eyes shining with emotion as he reached out to cover her hand with his own. "You are part of my life, of course I’ll have you with me,gorgeous."

They shared a smile, a silent understanding passing between them as they drove back to the hotel. The weight of grief still hung heavy in the air, but somehow, they both felt lighter.

"It's been a tough day," Rooster murmured softly, his gaze fixed on thehorizon, "But I'm glad we came here. It feels like...closure, in a way."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, "I'm glad too," she replied softly, "It was important to pay our respects."

They sat together in companionable silence, lost in their thoughts as they watched the sky change colors. After a while, Rooster turned to Beatrice, his eyes soft with affection. "Hey, Bea," he began softly, "I've been thinking...about what you said earlier, about getting a place here."

Beatrice looked at Rooster, her curiosity piqued. "Yeah?" she prompted gently, "What about it?"

Rooster took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I think it's a great idea," he said earnestly, "Having a place here in Virginia...it feels right. Like a second home, you know?"

Beatrice's eyes lit up with excitement at Rooster's words, her heart pounding with anticipation. "You really think so?" she asked eagerly.

Rooster nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Absolutely," he replied without hesitation, "...thank you, really.” it meant too much for him to even put in words, so all he did was cup her thick thigh in his hand, “...Thank you,Bea.”

[the-ace-with-spades]

Okay I might write a Rooster in skirts fic... Just a quick one shot under 5k... With some MavDad and some hangster...

[roosterforme]

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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