#Rooster x fem!reader

[bespinnn]

Y/N: In my defense I was left unsupervised.

Maverick: Wasn't Rooster with you?

Rooster: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

[callsign-fox]

Bail Out - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley x Fem!Reader (Pilot - Call Sign: Raven)

This was based off of an ask I received: 

untitled87858 asked: Hi! Can you write a rooster imagine where the reader is also a pilot and she gets hurt during a mission?

See Request --> Here

Written with the help from my BFF @fanficgirl429​ ! 

Thanks for all the love xoxo

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

The engine to my F-18 purred as I moved up alongside my wingman, Rooster. He shot me a thumbs up as our teacher, Maverick, pulled up to the right of me. I nodded in his direction.

“Great job! The two of you work well together. Have you flown together before?” Maverick asked through the mic.

“Many times.”

“Unfortunately,” Rooster added and I gave him the finger.

Maverick laughed, “It’s always nice flying with someone you know. Again, great job! Let’s head back to base.“

Maverick took off leaving smoke in his wake. I turned to look at Rooster in the plane beside me.

“Nice flying, wingman.”

He quickly shook his head, “No, you’re my wingman.”

“In your dreams, Rooster,” I said, peeling off and flying in the direction Maverick had just gone.

I checked my radar on instinct, and adjusted my speed to coasting. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. If I had it my way, I’d never stop doing this.

Suddenly I heard a popping sound, and my body jerked forward. A red light started flashing and an ear piercing noise filled the cockpit.

“Shit.”

“Ugh, Raven, you lost an engine!” Rooster yelled over the intercom.

My wrist was throbbing with pain after banging it against the canopy, “Yeah, I know. Trying to restart.”

”Talk to me, Raven!”

I ignored Maverick as I continued working on the problem, flipping switches and pressing buttons to try and get the left engine restarted.

At that moment the second engine went off, causing my plane to go spiraling downward.

“Fuck!” I heard Rooster yell.

“Raven, Eject!“

I ignored Maverick once again. I knew I’d get reprimanded later if I got out of this.

“Raven!” Rooster cried.

I was trained for a situation like this to happen, I wasn’t ready to give up. My computer indicated the engines were still functioning, just not running.

Rooster screamed in my headset again, “Eject, Raven! Why aren’t you listening?!”

“Not yet!”

“Y/N!”

3,000 feet.

“I got this!”

The beeping sound continued as I plummeted toward the ground.

2,000 feet.

“Eject, Y/N!”

I flipped the switch for the left engine and I heard a noise. It was trying to start. I hit it again, and unexpectedly the left engine came roaring back to life.

“Raven, Report.”

I pulled back on the throttle and the jet started ascending.

4,000 feet, 5,000 feet, 6,000.

I leveled out, the runway straight ahead, “I’m good! I’m good,” my voice a tad more shaky than I had intended, “Left engine is back on, landing in less than 90 seconds.”

Once the landing gear came out with no issue, I knew the rest would be a piece of cake.

The jet landed gently onto the runway and I drove it into the correct spot, turning it off and opening the canopy.

“Are you okay?” one of my crew asked, pulling the ladder down for me to exit the cockpit.

I nodded and stepped down, happy for a moment to be touching the ground.

“Y/N!” Rooster yelled, stepping down from his ladder across from me. “What the hell was that?! Why the fuck were you not listening to me?”

He walked quickly towards me, pulling his helmet from his head. I had seen him angry before but never like this.

“I’m fine. Calm down,” I answered, reaching up to unhook my helmet. My wrist throbbed as I squeezed the hook together, trying to get it apart but failing. I pulled my hand down, absentmindedly rubbing my hurt wrist.

“You want me to be calm! How can I be calm after you almost killed yourself?!”

“Bradley, please stop yelling at me! I’m fine, I promise.”

“Why didn’t you bail?”

I rolled my eyes. “I had everything under control!”

It was at that moment that Rooster noticed my wrist. He took a breath and took a step towards me.

“Here. Let me help,” he said, reaching out and unhooking my helmet. He gently pulled it off my head and held onto it. “You need to get that looked at- it could be broken. What were you thinking? What you did was reckless!”

“It’s not broken, and for the last time I’m fine!” I said, grabbing my helmet out of his hand and walking away from him.

“Y/N, where are you going?!”

“Somewhere where I won’t get screamed at!”

I heard Bradley walking behind and began to move quicker. I was not in the mood to hear him yelling at me.

“I like you Y/N!”

I stopped in my tracks, my back to him.

“I’m not trying to be mean, I just…I don’t want to see you get hurt. I wouldn’t get the chance to ask you out if you did something stupid, which is clearly inevitable.”

I slowly turned on my heels to face him.

“You like me?” I asked, pointing my finger at myself.

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair, a sign that he was nervous. “Yea…I’ve been wanting to ask you out for months, but was too scared you’d turn me down, so I put it off.”

“Bradley, you fly F-18s for a living and you’re too scared to ask me out?” I laughed.

He rolled his eyes at my comment. “Okay, let’s not dwell on that part.”

“Yes,” I said.

He looked down at me, a curious expression on his face, “Yes, to what?”

I smiled, “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

[princessmisery666]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Mentions/Small Parts: Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Harvard. 

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: I saw this post on Instagram, and it immediately made me think of Rooster. Songs: Is This Love by White Snake, Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli.

A/N: the wonderful and brilliant @writercole helped with ideas, summary, and title and helped make the muses comply. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

It’s been a week. It’s not even worth listing all the things that went wrong. The icing on the cake (presumably made with salt and not sugar - cause it's that kind of week) was your date canceled on you as you took a seat at a booth in the diner.

You sigh as the waitress comes to take your order, accepting that you’ve been stood up and decide you may as well eat since you’re already there.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, side salad, no tomato, extra dressing, please.” 

The elderly waitress smiles. It’s comforting and sweet. Her name tag says Pattie, and you imagine her grandkids get overly excited whenever Granny Pat visits. “You want the fries with that?”

You ponder for half a second before declining, “No thanks.”

“You sure, hun? They’re included in the price.”

You had dirty Cajun fries from the food cart outside the office at lunch. You know the diner’s fries won’t taste as good, besides you want to leave room for dessert, so you politely decline again. 

“I’ll take them, Pattie!”

You twist in the booth to look over your shoulder and find the source. A handsome guy sitting at the bar, wearing a light yellow floral print shirt, smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You’d clocked him when you’d entered. You’d caught his eye too, and he’d given you a broad smile. His mustache was a flashback to a decade or two ago, but he wore it well. He carried it with a sense of pride and confidence. It looked good on him. Anyone else, you’d have thought it was creepy.

“Hush now, boy,” Pattie scolds, but she’s smiling when she turns back to face you.

You chuckle, nodding toward him, “He’ll take the fries.”

Pattie takes your menu and disappears to the kitchen. You look at Mr. Mustache, who tips his beer bottle to you before bringing it to his lips.

You grab your phone and message the “No Scrubs” group. 

You: Stood up again. Where you guys at?

Cole: At that navy bar I was telling you about. Come meet us.

You: I’ve just ordered dinner. Will see how I feel after.

You scroll social media while you wait. Pattie comes by a few times, brings cutlery and sauces, and refreshes your drink. 

You hear the bell ring to signal an order’s ready, and your mouth waters when you see Pattie heading toward you. The burger looks delicious. The brioche bun glistens under the lights as the cheese melts over the edge onto the plate. It's so tall there’s a wooden skewer through the top to keep it in place, and the fries are fat and look perfectly crispy.  

Pattie sets the plate down, “Enjoy, sweetheart,” and you swallow before drool slips out.

Just as you pull the skewer out of the burger, you hear, “Those are mine, remember.”

You laugh, twisting to look at him again. He’s got a cheerful smirk, but his brow is raised as if challenging you. “Why don’t you join me?” you offer. 

He grabs his beer and twists off his stool. The smile remains while he saunters over, and you can’t take your eyes off him, admiring the sway of his hips. He’s confident in an almost bashful way. The open floral shirt shows a white shirt beneath it, and the contrast against his tanned skin looks as edible as your burger. 

“Tell me,” he says, grabbing a fry and biting off the end. “What kind of psychopath doesn’t have fries with their burger?”

You shrug, “The same kind that offers to take a stranger's fries.”

“Touché,” he chuckles. 

You laugh, explaining, “I had fries at lunch and want dessert.”

 He nods as if now understanding your logic. “Ah, she’s got a sweet tooth.” 

“I’ve heard that the chocolate malt here is the best in the state. I can’t pass that up,” you grin.

“Well, that is true,” he shrugs, popping another fry into his mouth. “Make or break question here, whipped cream on top of the shake?”

“I fear this will affect our budding friendship,” you tease, “but ab-so-lutely whipped cream on top of the shake. Among other places,” you wink. 

His boldness flounders for half a second, recognizing he’s met his match, but he recovers quickly. Wetting his lips and giving a cheeky smile. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

“I don’t see a ring, and you’re here alone. Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m definitely flirting with you.”

His smile widens and remains while the conversation flows and the two of you eat. Flirtations and laughter pass back and forth effortlessly.

Your phone chimes with another message, and you see the ‘No Scrubs’ group chat has two unread messages. You don’t want to be rude and pick it up to reply, but you know if you don’t, they’ll likely call to make sure you’re okay. 

“Somewhere else you need to be?” he asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice that he attempts to hide behind a sip of beer.

“No, just some friends trying to get me to go meet them at some Navy bar.” You roll your eyes and type a quick ‘maybe’ before locking your phone, setting it face down on the table.

“Navy bar? The Hard Deck?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

“I think that’s what Cole said. Do you know it?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed after. I could give you a ride. If you need one, that is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Bradley, but my friends call me Rooster.”

“Rooster?” you laugh. “Please tell me there’s a good story there.”

“There might be. I guess that depends on if you want to hear it.”

“How about you tell me on the way to the bar?”

The open window lifts your hair slightly, and every time Rooster gets a hit of your perfume, he inhales deeply, savoring it. 

He sticks to the speed limit, if not a little below it. He’s not quite ready to say goodbye to you. He’s never had such an instant, effortless connection with someone, and he wants to make it last as long as possible.

You’d laughed at the story about his name. You’d have never guessed that it was a nickname his uncle gave him when he was a kid. The radio is playing at a low volume, but as soon as the opening bars of Is This Love by White Snake start, you lean over and crank the volume as loud as it will go, singing along as if he isn’t there.

“Is this love that I'm feeling?” you sing, holding a pretend microphone. “Is this the love that I've been searching for? Is this love, or am I dreaming? This must be love. 'Cause, it's really got a hold on me. A hold on me.” 

You can’t hold a tune, and your voice cracks a few times, but still, you belt it out with vigor, and Rooster thinks he may be falling in love. Did Pattie put something in those fries? 

“Sorry,” you say, settling back into your seat, “that’s one of my favorites.” 

It’s one of my favorites now too. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he laughs, “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Are you not a car karaoke kinda guy?” you ask. “You seem like you like to sing along.” 

“I’ve been known to hold a few car concerts,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to interrupt your flow.” 

“Can you sing as good as me?”

He looks at you and sees the jesting expression. You know you can’t sing, and you don’t care one little bit.

“I’d love to serenade you,” he says, “but unfortunately, we’re here.”

“Some other time?” you ask, and he swears you sound hopeful.

Rooster opens the Hard Deck door, and as soon as he hears the hustle and bustle from inside, he wishes he’d suggested you stay at the diner. Holding the door open, he gestures for you to enter first, and you smile a thanks as you pass by.

You stop a few feet inside, scanning the room as he stands beside you. This is the one time he hopes Hangman is being himself and has, by some miracle, coaxed your friends over to the group so Rooster has an excuse to keep talking to you. 

“Those are my friends over there,” you say, dashing all his hopes as you point to the pool tables on the opposite side of the room. 

“I’m over there,” Rooster says, pointing to where the Dagger squad is assembled. 

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the fries.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

“You too.” 

There’s a pause, neither of you knowing what to do. You rise to the tips of your toes, and he dips to let you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks quickly flush, hearing the jeers, shouts, and wolf whistles, but you drop back down with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “They’re a bunch of idiots.”

He scolds himself for being an idiot as you walk away. He should invite you over or ask for your number, but he’s suddenly tongue-tied. He stares at you, frozen to the spot, long enough to see your friends turn to look at him as you settle into your seat.

Throughout the night, flirtatious glances are passed back and forth, and smiles exchanged when they linger. Of course, it’s Hangman who notices the consequence of Rooster’s error. 

“Looks like you lose again, Rooster,” the blond pilot remarks, a way too smug grin showing off his perfectly white teeth. “Too snug on that perch, and Harvard is gonna take your lady right out from under your beak.”

Rooster doesn’t care if it proves Hangman’s point. He looks directly at you. Harvard is whispering in your ear. You're smiling, but Rooster thinks it's more of a polite, courteous smile than genuine interest. 

But it’s the kick he needs to take action. He looks to Phoenix, Bob, and Mickey, almost pleading, “I need your help.” 

Phoenix nods once, Bob smiles, and Mickey asks, “What?”

“He wants to do the Goose move,” Phoenix explains without Bradley needing to tell her any more. 

“What’s the Goose move?”

“It’s the move his Dad did to get his Mom,” Bob says. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Mickey shrugs. 

“Technically, we've been doing it for years,” Rooster says, “it’s just that this time, it involves my future wife.”

“So, no pressure,” Bob gulps. 

“Relax. I’ve got a plan,” Phoenix winks, gesturing for the three guys to come closer.

Harvard doesn’t seem all that smart, and you wonder if it's an ironic nickname or callsign, as Rooster had explained. Harvard certainly doesn’t understand body language. You’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to put some distance between you three times. The third time he slides his arm around your shoulders. 

Before you can shrug, his arm slips off, and suddenly, a pretty brunette woman is in his place. “Hi,” she says brightly, her back to a flustered-looking Harvard. “I’m Phoenix, and this is Fanboy. We’re friends with Rooster.” 

Butterflies dance in your stomach. Before she can say anymore or you have a chance to wonder why he’s sent his friends to rescue you, the jukebox cuts off, and a collective groan echoes around the room. 

“That was supposed to happen,” Phoenix smiles. Fanboy is speaking quietly to Harvard, and he doesn’t seem happy about whatever is being said, but you're grateful for the interruption. 

There’s a soft twinkling from a piano somewhere in the room, and after a few more notes, you find the source. Phoenix continues, “That’s Bob, and you’ve met Rooster.” 

Your eyes drift up from the piano player and land on Bradley, fingers tapping the wooden top, while Bob continues to find the right melody.

Rooster’s eyes are locked on you, a shy smirk lifting the corner of his mustache. 

“Thanks for the save,” you say to Phoenix but keep your eyes on Rooster. 

“Well, it wasn’t the actual intention, but Harvard can be a bit…” she trails off.

“Thick?” 

“That’s a good word for him,” she laughs.

The bright random notes turn into a clear, rich melody that flows through the room moments before the smooth baritone of Rooster’s voice fills the air. “You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Damn, he can sing! 

Taking the lyrics literally, he doesn’t avert his eyes while he serenades you. You feel Phoenix’s hand at your elbow, but you can’t look away from the gorgeous man belting out a song just for you. Only when he draws closer do you realize she’s guiding you to him. 

The bar is packed, and the crowd gathers around the piano, but somehow Rooster is always in your line of sight, and then Fanboy is in front of you, splitting the crowd to let you through. 

It feels surreal but magical when somehow there’s a clear path straight to Rooster. It looks like an aisle leading to an altar, and the man that awaits you has been sent from the heavens because he’s gorgeous, kind, funny, and clearly has a talent for commanding a room. You wonder what else you could uncover, given some time.

“At long last, love has arrived,” Rooster sings as you reach his side. Phoenix slips away as you reach for Bradley’s outstretched hand. 

Definitely an altar, and you’ll happily worship here for eternity. Interlocking your fingers with his, he pulls you against him. “Now that I found you, stay,” it’s more than a song, it's a question, and you nod. 

Slowly, he inches closer, and the crowd takes over, singing the chorus, when his lips connect with yours and the world melts away. 

Tag List Info

Take To The Skies: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @atarmychick007

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

[h-c-u]

And how to come home...

Summary: You are having a miscarriage during the Uranium mission and you do your best to hide it from your fiancee, Rooster. 

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader,

Other relationships: father Pete "Maverick" Mitchell & daughter reader

W/C: 2.2k

Rating: PG

TWs: Miscarriage

A/N: Reader in this one is Maverick's daughter and they have a great relationship. He taught her how to fly when she was barely a teen, and didn't intervene in her carrier in the same way as he did with Rooster (that might or might have not been because of Iceman). He respects her and her skills enough to realize that she's a better fit for this mission than him, and even though it killed him to send his little girl on this type of mission, he did it because he had full trust in both her leadership and flying abilities. 

Masterlist | List of tags

It wasn't even a choice for you. 

After all those years of listening to your father repeating "Don't think, just do." there was no consciousness in your actions, despite them being perfectly calculated to the millimeter. You knew there was no chance of you not being shot down from the sky, but you just had to save your fiancee, there was no other option.

That's why when you saw him being shot down after he just saved you, you wanted to strangle him yourself before his body even hit the ground, which (fortunately) didn't happen. 

Somehow you've managed to bullshit your way back from the enemy territory and you were on your way back to base. 

It was just then that you realized that something was wrong. 

A sharp pain in your abdomen almost knocked you out, and Rooster just informed you that there were enemy planes on your tail. The situation was far from perfect, but you quickly glanced down to make sure, that you weren't wounded, but everything looked fine on the surface. Yet the pain didn't go away and you were sweating profusely. 

And then it hit you what exactly was happening. You closed your eyes, steadied your hands, and took a deep breath. If it was hurting that badly, it already happened. Right now you had to get you both home. 

- Y/N!?!?!?!?!?!? - Rooster's voice brought you down, and you quickly wiped your tears, pushing the pain as far deep inside as you possibly could.

- Masks on, we're pretending our comms are down. -  you've finally said when, and when the enemy's pilot tried to communicate with you, you just made a series of nonsense gestures that were supposed to mean that indeed, your comms were down. And when he tried to give you orders, you nodded as if you perfectly understood what he meant. It was pretty easy to figure out the formation when they started moving, so you fit neatly into the gap and steadied your stick.

- Hang on, it's gonna be a rough ride, love. - you've said quietly, and you just knew that Bradley knew something was wrong, but you were hoping he'll assume you're angry about him coming back for you, at least for now. Although if the roles were reversed, you knew you would have done the same... That's why you weren't screaming and berating him to the moon. You exhaled deeply to calm yourself even more. - 3, 2, 1... - and that was all you needed. You've swayed aggressively to the right, shooting at the first plane's engine, dropping it out of the sky, but you weren't able to get the second one as easily. He was a good pilot, you could tell... And you couldn't help but wonder if life wasn't different, maybe you two somehow could be friends, especially after you've witnessed that reverse cobra mixed with falling leaf maneuver, which was more than impressive. 

But everything ended well... Well... that wasn't true, not for everyone. What mattered was that you got to the ship safely, even if you had to land in the net.

After the glass dome opened, you were greeted by the cacophony of cheers and laughter, but you didn't immediately get out of the plane. Right now you were sitting in the small pool of your own blood and you just needed a minute, which would have been next to impossible if you came out to the cheering crowd. You saw your dad embracing your fiancee in a bear hug and you knew he'd be looking for your face in the crowd as well, but you couldn't face him, not yet. 

So you tried to get out on the other side, but you were spotted by Rooster almost immediately, and he run to you to embrace you, happy that you both lived. 

- Don't! - you said loudly as soon as he touched you. You didn't mean to... For a second, you were just as confused as he was. - Just... not now. - you added much softer, quickly unzipping the top part of your suit and pulling it over your ass, so no one would notice that it was stained with blood. 

You were definitely your father's daughter when it came to dealing with things alone, and there was a high chance that you'd surpassed him in that hyper-independence. 

You saw that Rooster wanted to question your actions, but he didn't, only giving you a small nod, assuming you needed a moment to process what happened and cool off. 

Getting to the claustrophobic showers didn't take you long, and as soon as you closed the door behind you, you started sobbing and hitting the cold metal with all your might, as if what happened was its fault when it was your own. 

You only found out a couple of hours ago, just before the mission, when those two lines on the pregnancy test stared back at you with a strength you wouldn't expect from a few pieces of plastic and paper. You knew that if you told anyone, you'd most likely be pulled from the mission, which would put the rest of the squad in danger. Mav trusted you to bring them back home more than he was afraid about your safety, and that was saying something. So you've kept your mouth shut. You knew that there was a very small chance that the embryo would survive all the machs and G's you'd be taking, and it was a coldly calculated decision. 

It shouldn't even matter... The embryo could not be older than 6-8 weeks and it was just a lump of cells. Logically you knew you shouldn't be reacting this way, but the hormones took hold of your body and you were standing there crying, sobbing, wailing, with both of your fists hurt and covered in blood. 

And then something else snapped. You've never got out of your flying suit as fast as you did now, and after it, you threw your helmet against the wall and almost tore the rest of the clothes from your body... They were suffocating you and you needed to get out. But you couldn't. Not in this state. 

You've finally run the water at the scorching hot temperature and got into the cabin, dividing yourself from your bloody clothes and the mess you've made with a thin shower curtain. 

You honestly didn't feel how hot the water was, but your skin was getting redder and redder with every second, and you just... needed to feel something. So you've stayed under the boiling stream, with your head pressed against the metal wall, watching as your blood mixed with water and went down the drain, until it was clear again, which took a good few minutes. 

It took some time, but you've finally calmed down enough to stop crying and you sat under the shower, allowing the water to burn your feelings away. 

After what was almost an hour, but you didn't know that, because time got kinda wonky, Bradley came looking for you.

- Y/N...? Honey...? Are you...? - the rest of that sentence got stuck in his throat when he noticed your bloody clothes on the floor and the red streaks left by your fists on the white door. - Y/N!?!? - he instantly panicked and you couldn't blame him. 

- I'm fine... - you've said quietly, not sure if he even heard you with the water still flowing from the showerhead on the highest setting. - I'm taking a shower... Please leave me alone... - you've added, your voice a bit more confident. 

But he didn't leave... Instead, he moved the shower curtain, and when he saw you on the ground, he instantly got next to you with his clothes still on and pulled you under his arm. He knew you far too well to believe that you were indeed fine. 

- What happened...? - he asked, pulling you closer. Your muscle memory acted faster than your brain could, and you melted into his body. 

- Nothing... - the lie burned in your throat so harshly that you almost choked. 

- The blood... - he dug deeper, intensely studying what was visible on your body. He didn't notice any major wounds besides your knuckles, but that didn't explain why the rest of your clothes were bloody. 

You didn't want to say anything... You honestly didn't have the energy right now. You knew Bradley wanted kids more than anything, and that he would blame you for your stupid decision and you just wanted to postpone seeing that angry disappointed look he'll give you, so you shook your head for no. You didn't want the hug to end just yet, so you selfishly kept quiet.

- Y/N... Should I get a doctor...? - he asked, not sure what else to do. He honestly wanted to help, to calm you down, to get you out of that state you were in.

- No, don't go... - you whispered. You weren't ready to deal with that part yet. - I... - you've started, but continuing was much harder than you expected. - I had a miscarriage... - you finally blurted out and felt him tensing against your body... 

- You are... You were...? - he didn't know what to say, different emotions bubbling under his skin.

- I found out about 20 minutes before the takeoff... I don't even know why I took that stupid test... - you honestly didn't know. Since you were only about 2-3 weeks late, and your period wasn't exactly regular, you just assumed it was because of stress. But then... This stupid second line appeared on that even more stupid test, and suddenly going on this specific mission became a choice. And there was just too much responsibility on your shoulders to bail. No chance that you would send them there with a different pilot, even as good as your father. You've all trained to work together well and that type of last-second change would have been disastrous. You were angry with yourself, but that didn't change the fact that it already happened and now you had to deal with the consequences. 

On the one hand, you wanted to apologize to Rooster... To express how sorry you were that you basically chose to kill his child. But on the other... You just knew you've made the righ decision because his life and the lives of the rest of the team were more important. 

He finally pulled you into his lap, fully embracing you in his arms, and hiding his face in the nook of your neck. 

- I'm sorry... - he finally whispered. - I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't share that with me. That you had to go through it alone... - that statement shocked you... No, no, no... He didn't do anything wrong... But before you were able to protest, he asked. - When...? - he didn't have to finish the question; you knew what he wanted to know. 

- It started when we were in the F-14, right before we got spotted by the enemy... - you finally mumbled under your breath, 

- Ohmygod... - he exhaled so quietly that you weren't sure if he actually said something. - While we were still in the air... And yet you still brought us home safe, to our family... - he wasn't screaming, there was no anger or disappointment in his voice. He just held you in his arms and allowed you to mourn in your own way, and only gods knew how much you needed it. - You will still need to see a doctor... - he whispered and you were only able to nod in agreement. - But for now, I'm here for you... - he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head - You can break if that's what you need... We're going to get through this... We're just going to have to take turns, ok...? Sometimes I will be the strong one, and sometimes you... And right now, it's my turn, because you got us home in one piece. I've got you... - you were already past the point of breaking, so you didn't need to scream, cry, or wail... You just needed someone to take care of you, and right now you had the perfect man for the job.  

[princessmisery666-library]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // A03

[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.

[senawashere]

Carolina?

Summary: Who is Carolina? Is she the other woman? And why Bradley is talking about her in his sleep?

A/n: I wrote this like 2 or 3 years ago for another character and i wanted to post again🤭

Warnings: tooth rutting fluff actually. Maybe a bit angst. And a bit smutt at the end. Hehehehe.

Bradley always talked in his sleep,most of life. So you were ok with it. But one night,everything chances.

You slowly wake up to a chill in the air, realizing that Bradley has closed most of the windows once again, as usual.

The room is dark, and the digital clock on your nightstand shows 4:28; you've only been asleep for four hours.

As you turn to the side, you see Bradley curled up in the blankets, lying on his side with his back turned to you. You approach him, pulling the blanket closer for warmth, and snuggle up to your husband, wrapping your arm around his abdomen. You drift back to sleep with you melting in his embrace, emitting a low, soft purr from his curled lips.

He feels so warm and resilient against you that you bury your face into his back, inhaling his scent, placing a few kisses on his shoulder blades before laying your head on the pillow. You hear Bradley's gentle murmurs as he returns to his dreams. When you open your eyes, you lift your head slightly, leaning towards him in hopes of understanding what he's saying, but his words are jumbled.

"Brad?" you whisper, wondering if he's about to wake up.

"Baby..." he murmurs, and then you hear something inconsistent.

"I'm here," you say softly, kissing his shoulder. He usually calls you "baby," so you assume he's talking to you.

"Baby... My baby..." he repeats, and as you smile at the thought of him dreaming about you, everything shatters with a single word.

"Carolina... Carolina, baby… my…girl"

Wait a second, who is Carolina?

It wakes you up faster than an alarm. As you sit up, looking at your still-sleeping husband, talking about someone named Carolina in his dreams, you're left puzzled. You don't know anyone by that name, so she must be someone Bradley knows, and that's concerning.

"Carolina... beautiful..." the words spill from his lips, almost inaudible but piercing your ears like a punch to the chest.

Lately, he's been so confused, but you haven't thought much about it, attributing it to all the work he put into his job and getting promoted. However, now you see it in a different light.

And yes you know his mother’s name is Carol but the problem is Carol and Carolina are not the same.

Or are they? No probably not.

Could Bradley be spending time with another woman? The thought of him cheating on you didn't cross your mind. Everything seemed so perfect; you were planning the moving somewhere else next summer, and he didn't seem regretful of his decision to marry you.

But then who is Carolina? And if she invaded his dreams, how important could she be? More important than you? It made your stomatch flip.

Afterward, you struggled to sleep, tossing and turning in bed for hours.

Bradley stops talking afterward, turning his face up, and while you lie awake next to him, going through every possible theory in your mind, he simply sleeps peacefully, unaware of your racing thoughts. As the sun begins to rise on the horizon, you're already out of bed, perched on a kitchen stool with your laptop, hoping to find a clue Bradley left behind as you delve into the history.

But what if he's really doing this? If he's cheating on you, he wouldn't be foolish enough to get caught like this. Right?

You make tea and reluctantly check his socials that he follows almost everyone he knows. You hate stalking your husband with the thought of him cheating on you but now you want to know if something strange is happening. Unfortunately, or fortunately, nothing suspicious comes up. Most of the accounts are from people who works with, either with people you know,his old friends, or his family members and some of his dads old friends.

No sign of another woman.

That’s good. Right?

Bradley wakes up to an empty bed. It's strange that you're not cuddling him or holding onto him like a koala bear. He blinks his swollen eyes a few times, adjusting to the low light, and straightens the other side of the bed where your body used to rest. Since the room isn't even that cold, he knows you've been up for a while.

Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he throws on a sweatshirt and slowly exits the room, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He notices you immediately, curled up on the edge of the couch, looking out of the window. Your forehead is creased, indicating something is bothering you.

"Hey, honey, the bed was cold without you," he murmurs, walking towards you with slow steps, sitting beside you on the couch near the window.

You look at him, your jaw clenched,on verge of tears and even though you didn't want to start like this, the truth about the morning overwhelms you.

"Who is Carolina?"

Confusion is evident on his face. It's not the kind of thing that someone doesn't know what or who is being talked about. Carolina is a real person, and Bradley knows exactly who she is.

"What's this about now?" he asks, leaning back, putting some distance between you two, his arm dropping over the back of the couch,confusion is clearly visible all over his face.

"Do you know anyone named Carolina?" you push, narrowing your eyes.

"I do... well, I mean... it's not what you think honey really..."

"You talk in your sleep, Bradley."

"What?" his eyes widen.

"You often murmur incoherently, but last night, you kept repeating the name Carolina, and... you even called her baby. You called her baby! You only call me baby. "

The revelation dawns on him as you watch, and he takes a slow breath, exhaling gently. This is going to be more complicated than you anticipated.

"I'm telling you, but promise not to think I've lost my mind, okay?"

"You're scaring me, Bradley," you breathe out. "Tell me. Please."

"Okay, okay," he says, inhaling deeply and then nodding slightly. "Do you remember... the day when we thought you might be pregnant, about like five months ago?"

"Of course, I remember," you nod,biting your lip.

Your period was late, and you had vomited in the morning. Bradley had taken a test, and you both sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, waiting for the results. It came back negative.

You felt relieved, but a part of you wondered how it would have been if you were pregnant. Something in your head told you it wouldn't have been a big deal, but the timing wasn't right because you two were just about to get married and it would have been nice to get married first before having a baby.

"A few days after that... I had a dream."

"A dream?" You furrow your brows, unsure where this is going.

"Yeah. It was about you and me, and... we had a baby. A little girl. It wasn't something crazy; you were breastfeeding her in our bed, and I was watching you, and then I was holding her, rocking her to sleep and she was sleeping in my arms... It felt real, and when I woke up... I felt like something was missing."

You listen to him carefully, your lower lip tense, and your heart pounding in your chest.

"Since then, I've been having similar dreams. At least twice a week. Always the same baby, always with you inside, but we do different things. Sometimes we bathe her,sometimes we play tickling,sometimes we walk in the park, and sometimes she sleeps in a stroller... Once my mom and dad were in it and one time I saw Mav and Penny too, God, it felt so real," he confesses with a shaky breath. "The last few times, we didn't even have her with us. We gave her a name."

"Carolina? Her name is Carolina?" you softly ask, pushing yourself closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Yes. She looks a lot like you, but her eyes are like mine. A perfect mix of both of us, and... I couldn't shake it off. Sometimes I wake up after a dream, and I feel like something has been taken away from us, it feels so real,I miss her even though I don't know her."

"Why didn't you tell me about these dreams, Baby?" you whisper, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

"It felt super foolish, and I didn't know how it would make you feel. I knew we talked about trying for a baby after the wedding, and I thought bringing it up would upset you," he shrugs, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

As you sit on the couch, silence falls between you two, your head resting on his chest, his arms around you. This wasn't the outcome you expected. None of your theories came close to the truth Bradley just revealed.

"I was thinking about the same thing...for a while." you say.

"About what?"

"About having a baby. If the test had come back positive, how would it have been?"

"And...?" He leans back to look into your eyes.

"I wouldn't have aborted it," you admit honestly, and Bradley takes a slow breath, gently kissing your forehead. "Do you want to... start trying for a baby before we talk about,Bradley?"

"It can wait," he replies, looking as if he's afraid to say something that might upset you. "If we continue what we're doing, it's okay..."

"But I want to know what you want, Bradley. Tell me."

He takes a deep breath, running his tongue over his lips before speaking.

"I think I want it." The way your heart explodes at his words is undeniable. Realizing that he feels exactly the same way now brings tears to your eyes.

"It would probably mean a blow to the squad if we start now and succeed," you laugh, watching his eyes glimmer.

"That would be the best thing that ever happened," he chuckles, confessing, "just the thought of going on adventures while our baby grows under your heart... God, I could just cry just thinking about it."

"So," you grin, slyly teasing him as you hold his chin with one hand. "Carolina?"

"It could be something else if it's a boy."

"I like it," you murmur, nodding. "We can add it to the list. But before we start making lists, we should probably start trying for a baby, don't you think?"

He doesn't need more encouragement. As you both laugh and kiss, you find yourselves in your bedroom in an instant, clothes flying off as you fall onto the bed. Giving him a passionate kiss before he undresses you, you can't help but whisper, "I love you."

Ekkkk full of cuteness🥹🥹

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sailor-aviator @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @bradshawssugarbaby @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady

[bruisedboys]

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader — you’re worried about what bradley will think of your new haircut.

mutual pining, pre-relationship, fluff (very self indulgent since I got my hair cut this week xoxo)

You were feeling good about your new haircut yesterday, when it was freshly cut and styled and so super soft. Today is different. You know you look different and you can help but think different is bad.

You rake a hand through your short hair. “Does my hair look bad?”

Natasha and Bob both give you twin looks of incredulity. It’s not the first time you’ve asked it tonight. They’ve brought you along to the Hard Deck for a night of drinks with their friends and you can’t stop fussing over your hair. You won’t admit to them it’s because you’re harbouring a massive crush on one of their squad members and you’re worried he’ll think you look awful.

“It looks fine,” Natasha tells you, again, not for the first time. “You look pretty. Right, Bob?”

Bob hums, tapping his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “You look great, Y/N.” He gives you a look from behind his glasses. Confusion, a bit of suspicion. “Why are you worrying so much, anyway?”

Your heart stutters. “I’m not—“

“Phoenix, Bob!” Jake Seresin appears seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up to your table with all the charm of a prince. His eyes land on you and your new hair and he grins. “And Y/N. Looking good, sugar.”

He winks at you. He’s a huge flirt and you’d definitely be into him if it weren’t for another certain aviator.

You smile at him. “Thanks, Jake.”

The others, Payback and Fanboy, file in behind him. They both notice and compliment your hair, which is a good sign. Still, you know who’s coming next and you can’t help but curl in on yourself, taking a sip of your drink so you don’t have to see him as he approaches.

“Hey, guys!” Bradley Bradshaw appears, stupid Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, moustache, golden skin and all. He’s tucking his glasses into his shirt so he doesn’t see you at first. “Hey— woah, Y/N.”

He stops short when he sees you. You lower your drink slowly, heart in your throat. Your knee bounces underneath the table.

“Hi, Bradley,” you say.

Bradley blinks. Blinks again. “Hi. Hey. I— you cut your hair.”

He says it like he’s never heard of a haircut before. You smile unsurely.

“I did,” you say, pushing a lock behind your ear as if that will help your case. “Is it bad?”

“Bad? No, it’s— it really suits you,” he says. If you’re not mistaken, he’s stuttering. Not only that, but unless you’re imagining it, he’s blushing. He stares at you, completely unaware of anything or anyone else, golden cheeks tinged pink. “You look really pretty.”

Your turn to blush. Heat flares behind your cheeks, burning into your smile. Pretty, he called you. “Thanks, Brad.”

Bradley seems to come back into himself, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and smiles at you. “Hey, you’re welcome. Just tell me next time so I don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

What’s that supposed to mean? You open your mouth to say something, you don’t know what, but Jake’s southern drawl interrupts you.

“Bradshaw!” Both you and Bradley turn to see Jake at the pool table with the rest of the boys. “Stop flirting with Y/N and get over here so I can beat you. Again.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “He’s lying, I won last week. I’ll be back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

You weren’t planning to. He flashes you a dazzling smile and then you watch him go, your heart thrumming with the sort of electricity you can’t ignore. You think you might burst. He’d called you pretty, said you’d given him a heart attack. You feel like your own heart’s about to give out, too.

Across the table, Bradley now well out of earshot, Natasha wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Oh,” she says slyly. “Now I get why you were so worried about your hair.”

You groan and bury your burning face in your drink again. “Please shut up, Nat.”

You have a feeling she won’t.

[luveline]

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound. 

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket. 

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?" 

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?" 

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace. 

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away. 

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly. 

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly. 

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves." 

"My nerves," you say. 

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away. 

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning. 

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?" 

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket. 

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff. 

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight? 

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch? 

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you. 

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it. 

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles. 

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?" 

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain. 

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley." 

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows. 

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication. 

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to." 

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine. 

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly. 

"Yes. Please." 

[bespinnn]

*Rooster and Y/n skipping stones on lake*

Rooster : It’s such a beautiful evening.

Y/n, whispering: Take that you fucking lake

[callsign-fox]

I Want to Kiss You - Rooster

For this story I was inspired by a text post made by the AMAZING @mrsroosterbradshaw02​! You can find the text post HERE, please like and follow her, she is awesome! 

Text Post/Prompt: 

Y/N: I want to kiss you.

Rooster, not paying attention: What?

Y/N: I said if you die, I won't miss you.

ENJOY! xoxo

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

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

My phone vibrated obnoxiously in my back pocket, the feeling of it distracting me from my conversation. I decided to ignore it and continued on but cut off when the phone vibrated again, however this time someone was calling me. I didn’t have to look at my phone to know who it was. I turned in the direction of the culprit and mouthed the words ‘What do you want?’

Hangman threw his arms up in defeat before pointing a finger at me, beckoning me over.

“I’m so sorry, Yale. I’m being summoned. Talk later?”

He nodded, and I headed deeper into the house to where my friends were in the middle of a beer pong match. The house was filled with people, mostly pilots, but civilians as well.

After a crazy mission that had us all on edge, Hangman thought it was a good idea to throw a party. It was a good idea, but I had forgotten how needy the boys were when they drank.

I soon appeared beside my friend Phoenix who was mocking Payback and his horrible attempt to get the ball in the cup. I pulled her in for a hug and smiled.

“They might be good pilots, but they have always sucked at beer pong,” She said, hugging me back.

“Hey! We can hear you,” Rooster whined over the music.

Hangman quickly realized I had joined them and drunkenly stumbled over to us.

“Ace, I need you to stand in for me while I go get the other keg.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me from my friend.

I wasn’t given a chance to deny him and I quickly joined Rooster, who smiled down at me. He was wearing one of those stupid Hawaiian shirts that went out of style years ago, but I couldn’t help but admire his toned chest that peaked out the top where he had left it unbuttoned.

God he was hot.

“Ace, don’t let me down,” he said, leaning into me.

“Do I ever?“ I winked at him and turned to our opponents, Payback and Coyote. “I’ve always been better at Beer Pong than you,” I yelled over the loud music, admiring his beauty as he aimed for the shot.

Rooster threw his ball and got it in. Coyote shook his head before leaning down to try and distract me.

Bob appeared beside me, a Corona in his hand, “Why do they call you Ace again?“

Rooster spoke first, “Because she’s good.”

“At what?” Bob asked.

I threw the ball and got it in the same cup that Rooster had just got his into, winning the game.

“Everything, Bob. She’s good at everything,” he said, pulling me in for a hug. I took in the smell of him as he embraced me, his hand a little lower on my back than I had expected it to be. I quickly pulled away, afraid of how obvious I must look to anyone that was watching.

He raised his hand for me to high five, “Who should we demolish next?”

Hangman re-appeared at the table but let me continue playing. He leaned against the wall beside me, giving us both praise when we got a ball in.

There was one cup left and Phoenix and Bob still had three.

“Don’t worry babe, I got this,”  Rooster said, throwing the ball and sinking it. Everyone clapped and he bowed.

“I want to kiss you.” I said, not even realizing I had said it until after it was too late.

He finished the beer he was holding before turning to me, a confused expression on his face, “What?”

Not paying attention, per usual. I got lucky.

“I said if you die, I won’t miss you.”

He placed his hand on his heart in moch pain, “Aw, I won’t miss you either, Ace.”

I rolled my eyes as he walked away. There was a tap on my shoulder and I turned to Hangman who had a cocky grin on his face.

“What?”

“I knew it.”

I tried to act like I didn’t know what he was talking about but knew better than lie to the one person who knew me best, “Shut up.”

“You have the hots for Bradshaw!” he said, leaning into me in an attempt not to yell.

I was grateful for that.

“I don’t know why I haven’t picked up on this sooner, but it’s so obvious.”

“It’s really not that obvious.”

He ignored me and continued on, “Why don’t you do something about it?”

“Jake, I just told him I wanted to kiss him and he clearly didn’t care.”

He shook his head, “He’s just an idiot and didn’t hear you.”

I took a sip of my beer.

“Look, if he isn’t interested that is his loss. You are gorgeous and he’d be lucky to have a girl like you.”

He tapped my nose like I was a child and I swatted his hand away, “Thanks, but it’s just a stupid crush.”

It wasn’t a crush. I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

“Whatever. Just so you know, you miss 100% of the chances you don’t take,” he said, pushing off the wall and disappearing into the crowd.

It was getting late and I was tired. I had hitched a ride here with Phoenix, but I had soon realized I wasn’t catching a ride home with her as her and Fanboy had only just got started singing karaoke.

I leaned against the frame of the back door watching as the two of them danced and sang their hearts out. I felt someone come up behind me and turned to see Rooster standing there.

“It’s way past your bedtime, Ace. Can I give you a ride home?”

As hard as that fifteen minute ride would be, I was desperate to get home to bed. It was half past 2am, and I was ready to cuddle up with a good book until I fell asleep.

“That would be great.”

I glanced one more time at my friends before following him out the door.

~

We went most of the short drive in silence. However, I found it odd considering Rooster wasn’t usually the quiet type. I opted to not say anything either and praised the lord above when we pulled into my driveway.

“Thanks for the ride,” my hand reached for the door but before I could open it he finally spoke up.

“Wait.”

I turned to look at him, a confused expression clear on my face, “What’s up?”

He leaned toward me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the seat between us. “I’m going to try something, Ace. Please don’t hit me.”

He didn’t give me a chance to interject, instead he leaned in, his lips softly crashing into mine.

It was so much better than I had imagined it would be. He kissed me like no guy had ever kissed me, his lips the softest I’d ever felt. The heat rose in my cheeks as his tongue wrapped with mine. Quick, electric and delicious.

A few seconds later he pulled back, his dark brown eyes staring into mine, “Is this weird?” His right hand moved from the chair between us to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my now swollen bottom lip.

“No,” I smiled at him, encouraging him to go on.

I leaned harder into the kiss, his left hand leaving the steering wheel to pull me closer to him. My heart began to race and I hoped to god that he couldn’t feel it. He playfully bit at my bottom lip, causing me to let out a soft moan.

At this point we had gone too far to turn back.

He gently pulled me into his lap as one of his hands moved up my leg, and under my dress. The further up my thigh he went, the rougher he got. His mouth moved to my jaw, then slowly down my neck to my collarbone, causing me to throw my head back in pleasure.

He pulled away slowly, and I looked down at him confused.

“Should we continue this inside?” He asked.

I leaned into him, my lips hovering just above his. “You have to answer my question first.”

“Go on,” he whispered, his fingers tugging at my underwear.

“You heard what I said to you at the beer pong table, didn’t you?”

He laughed, placing a soft kiss on my lips before pushing the car door open, “Of course I did.”

My jaw dropped as he slid out from underneath me and exited the truck, “You jerk!”

“Are you coming?”

I jumped out of the truck and closed the door behind me, yelling obscenities as I followed him into my house.

[princessmisery666]

Under The Radar - Mini Series Master List

Series Summary: Being a navy pilot you expected to have your world turned upside down from time to time. Taking to the skies was the easy part, the lessons you learn on solid ground are the hardest.

Warnings: angst, fluff, soft Jake, jealousy, asshole Jake, break-ups, cheating (reader is the other woman but doesn't know until after), preludes to smut, heartbreak, Rooster is a bit of an ass in parts, fluffy Rooster. Parts 3 & 4 include spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick.

W/C: 19k

Rating: 18+

Characters: Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, fem!reader (You. Call sign: Huntress), a few needed OC's. Mentioned/Small Parts: Lieutenant Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Lieutenant Javy "Coyote" Machado, Captain Phil “Maverick” Mitchell, Hondo, Admiral Simpson, 

Pairing: Hangman x Fem!Reader, Rooster x Fem!Reader. 

Notes: no descriptions of reader body type or ethnicity. Takes place before Top Gun: Maverick. First time recruits at Top Gun and during the movie. For this to work they were all at the academy together but I know that’s probably not canon. 

A/N: I was thirsting over Miles Teller with Sabrina - @sfreeborn - and she asked if I would ever write for him. After seeing Top Gun: Maverick, I really wanted to. My creative juices had been non-existent for weeks, but Sabrina was kind enough to give me a prompt that inspired a fic. The details of that fic (part 3) meant I needed to write another one to explain Reader x Jake’s relationship, and it spiralled.

Super Special A/N: @writercole helped me with ideas for this entire series and contributed a lot of lines/sections when I got stuck so I’m giving her co-author credit. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch //@cockslutpadalecki

Graphics: made on canva.

Series Complete.

Part 1 - Leave 'em Hanging

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin never loses. That is until he sets his sights on the one target that might bring him to his knees.

Warnings: angst, fluff, brief soft Jake, jealousy, asshole Jake. My HC is that he’s a softie behind doors, and no one can convince me otherwise.

W/C: 4.3k

Part 2 - The Fall

Summary: Jake has proven he’s an asshole; you shouldn’t be surprised when he proves it again at graduation. But at least graduating means you’ll be free of him, or does it? 

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, injury described, fluffy Rooster.

W/C: 3k

Part 3 - Just A Kiss

Summary: A kiss always means something, especially with an ex.

Warnings: potential spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick - I’ve used some lines from the movie, language, angst, fluff, Hangman is a cocky son of a bitch with a soft side, Rooster is kind of an ass, the beach scene. 

W/C: 5.6k

Part 4 - Got Your Six

Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants, sometimes the right man is not the better one.

Warnings: potential spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick - I’ve used some lines from the movie, language, angst, fluff, soft!Jake, 

W/C: 3.6k

Part 5 - Hate To Love You

Summary: Bradley was right, a kiss with an ex always means something. You just need to figure out what that means for your future, with or without Jake.

Warnings: sweet Rooster, fluff, slight angst, Jake being an handsome asshole (see picture above). W/C: 2k

There's more to this story...

Under The Radar - Continued - Drabbles & One-Shots continuing Hangman and Huntress' story.

Main Master List

[katsu28]

return to sender

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

summary: you’ve been getting your neighbor’s mail for the past few months and you were okay with it, but now came a time to finally talk to him about it 

warnings: light swearing, neighbors meet cute, bradley's biceps bc god damn they deserve a warning of their own (2.5k)

navigation

The first time you got someone else’s mail, you didn’t think anything of it. Bradley Bradshaw, it said, 1987 Pennsylvania Court. That was a few doors down from your place, and they were just letters, you could just drop them off in his mailbox the next time you went out. No big deal, it was just one time. 

Then one time became twice, which eventually turned into a third, fourth, fifth time, and so on. Letters soon became bigger envelopes, which didn’t actually fit into his mail slot. 

So you started dropping them on his doorstep, leaving them for him to find the next time he left the house. Knocking on his door and giving him his mail seemed like it would be too much of an endeavor for your poor social skills, because you’d seen Bradley Bradshaw around from afar sometimes, but you’d never said a word to him. No, he was big and tall and scary looking, and as much as you hated to pass judgment on people you didn’t actually know, probably a jerk. 

So yeah, sticking them in his mailbox, leaving them at his door and hightailing it out of there was the best option for everyone. It meant you didn’t have to confront him and tell him that his mail was being sent to the wrong apartment, and he didn’t have to waste his time talking to you. Win win for both of you. 

That all went out the window today, when you opened your door to see the biggest box you’d ever laid eyes on sitting on your welcome mat, the mailing address on the top flap spelling out none other than motherfucking Bradley Bradshaw in large, bold letters. Upon trying to lift it, you very quickly found that you couldn’t even get it to budge more than an inch. 

Looks like you were going to have to talk to Bradley after all. 

After giving yourself a pep talk (and hyping yourself up and going through all the things that could possibly go wrong) you marched your way over to his place, practicing what you were going to say to him the whole way. 

You exhaled one last sharp breath through your mouth, licking your lips nervously before knocking on his door, once, twice, a third time. Faint footsteps came from inside, the clicking of the lock a few seconds after, then the door swung open. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the person standing in front of you. It was Bradley, of course, but up close for the first time. For once, you could see him in his entirety, and holy fuck was he hot. Clad in a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts, he looked unfairly good—a far cry from you in your stretched out leggings and frayed sweatshirt from fucking college. He was tall and broad and tan and about a dozen other words you couldn’t even think of right now, not when all you could do was barely control your reaction to seeing him. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was a ‘loading, please wait’ signal flashing above your head. 

His gaze landed on you hovering awkwardly on his doorstep, offering you a polite smile. “Hi, can I help you with something?” 

“Hi. I live a few doors down from here and I think there’s been some sort of mistake with the post office, because I’ve been getting your mail for the past few months.” You blurted, pressing your lips together right after the words left your mouth. Way to ease into it, loser! 

Bradley’s eyebrow’s furrowed, mouth turning down into a confused sort of frown. “Uh…no, I don’t think so? My mail’s been getting here just fine everyday.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been dropping it off in your mailbox every time I get it.”  

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open the tiniest bit in…was that shock? Surprise? Possibly guilt? Maybe a mixture of all three. “Shit, really?” You nodded. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t even—I didn’t notice.” 

Honestly, you were expecting him to be a dick about it, but here he was, apologizing for something that he couldn’t have even known was happening all this time. It was throwing you for a loop, because you’d built him up in your head to be kinda mean and scary, but he was actually really nice. 

“Um. It’s—it’s okay. Just thought I should let you know.” 

“I guess I should be thanking you then.” He smiled warmly, and you had to fight the urge to turn tail and run. Bradley Bradshaw had the kind of smile that had the power to throw your whole plan out the window. 

See, you’d banked this entire interaction on him being an asshole. You’d tell him to come get his package, he’d do it, somehow fix the whole mail delivery problem, and then you’d never have to talk to him again. Problems solved, no reason for you to have to take this any further. 

Except he wasn’t an asshole at all, which made you feel like an asshole. 

“I’m Bradley, by the way,” He offered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Which you already knew, ‘cause you’ve been getting my mail for months. I never got your name though?” 

“Y/N.” You replied, shifting your weight to your other foot. He repeated it, bobbing his head in acknowledgment. Hearing your name come off his lips was…well, the only way you could describe it was weird. It sounded somehow better than you’d heard it come out of anyone else’s mouth. “Right, so that’s not actually what I came over here for. Well, it was to tell you about the mail thing, but also something else. You’ve got a giant package.” Your face burned lava hot as you realized what you said and what it sounded like you were saying (two very different things, by the way). 

Bradley coughed abruptly, choking on his own breath at your words. He pounded on his chest a few times to recover before speaking. “I’m sorry?” 

“Your mail—a really big box. Sent to my apartment. Again!” You exclaimed, attempting to salvage your dignity and this downhill spiraling conversation. You could see Bradley was trying to keep his composure so as to not make you feel any more mortified than he could clearly see you were, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He’d brought up a hand to rub at his mustache, effectively covering most of his mouth, but the beginnings of a smirk curled the edges of it, his eyes glinting in barely contained amusement at your blunder. “There’s a giant box that belongs to you on my doorstep and I can’t move it, so can you just…” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come grab it.” He nodded quickly, grabbing his keys and stepping outside. He shut the door behind him, gesturing for you to go first. “Lead the way.” 

You started the walk back to your place in dead silence, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t have to say anything to Bradley. You’d rather stew in your own humiliation and impending misery than initiate another conversation. Or think about how attractive he was, but that was besides the point. Totally, completely irrelevant. 

It was going pretty well, but then, he spoke. “So, when did you move into your place? I can’t say that I’ve seen you around here much.” 

He was trying to make small talk, you could tell. Probably to avoid having to dwell on the very awkward situation from moments prior. And as much as you didn’t want to make any more of a fool out of yourself than you already had, it would’ve been rude not to answer. 

“Been here a few years. I keep to myself mostly though.” Mainly to avoid situations like this. 

“Ah yeah, I’m usually not here too often. My job takes me a lot of different places, so I’m typically gone for months at a time.” He replied casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Long business trips?” 

“Sorta. I’m Navy. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, naval aviator—at your service.” Navy, interesting. Now you were wondering how those broad shoulders fit into a jet. 

“So you zoom around in the skies for a living?” 

“It’s a little more than that, but yeah, pretty much,” He snorted, said broad shoulders shaking with laughter. Damnit, even his laugh was endearing. It was getting harder and harder for you to justify making this thing with Bradley a one off. “Maybe I could take you up in my jet one day, give you a taste of what flying free feels like.” 

Was he…flirting with you right now? 

You finally looked at him, raising a curious eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s extremely against the rules. I can’t do that, I don’t—I don’t know why I said that.” Bradley admitted, offering you a rather embarrassed smile. 

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but good thing you’d arrived back at your place right at that minute, the huge box on your doormat instantly distracting him. 

“No way! I’ve been waiting for this thing for ages!” He exclaimed, squatting down to run his hand along the cardboard. He turned to you, eyes alight with pure joy. “You wanna know what it is?” 

You didn’t feel like you really needed to know, but from the way Bradley was beaming at you, you found yourself actually growing a little interested. “What is it?” 

“This fancy new coffee machine one of my buddies has been raving about. Apparently it’s supposed to brew like, the best coffee ever. I really think he might be exaggerating a bit, but Hangman’s fairly reliable when it comes to cool things.” 

Your brow raised in curiosity. “Hangman?” 

“His callsign. Mine’s Rooster.” Weird, but somehow it seemed very fitting. 

Bradley hefted the box into his arms with ease, resting it on a raised knee as he attempted to get his arms around it. His biceps bulged with the effort, and you had to make a conscious effort to avert your gaze. God, those things had to be bigger than your head. 

“Thank you again for dropping off my mail all this time, you really didn’t have to.” He said earnestly, fighting another smirk. Oh, he definitely caught you looking.

“I didn’t mind.” You replied quickly, feeling your face grow warm again. “Thought they might be important things. Naval aviator paperwork, maybe.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you get on with your day,” Bradley chuckled. He shifted the box a little higher up in his arms, and you looked anywhere else to stop your eyes slipping to his flexing biceps yet again. “But hey, if you ever wanted to chat or hang out or something since we’re neighbors, feel free to swing by. We could try out this coffee machine, see if it’s worth the fortune I spent on it.” 

You hesitated in your response. You knew it wasn’t anything serious, just some coffee between two neighbors, but the weight of it hung heavy in the air. Did you really want to make this more than a one time thing? 

Bradley was really goddamn nice, and as pathetic as it might’ve sounded, just that was enough to make your answer lean towards yes. But he didn’t need to know that yet. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to pressure you for a response right this very minute, so you just nodded. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. It was nice to meet you, Rooster.” You were slightly teasing him about his callsign, but it didn’t look like he minded one bit. One side of his mouth lifted into a smile, dimples on full display. 

“Call me Bradley,” He insisted, brown eyes not unlike the coffee he was offering up boring into yours. “Please.” 

“Okay. Bradley.” He looked pleased at that. “See you around, I guess.” 

“I sure hope so.” 

-------

It was weird how frequently you did start to see Bradley around after that. You’d stopped getting his mail, but sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of him through your window on one of his daily runs, and a lot of the time you somehow left the house or came home at the same time, which resulted in more conversations with each other. 

He’d always go out of his way to say hi or good morning to you when he spotted you, even if you had your head down or your earbuds in, and one time he even scared the living shit out of you by tapping your shoulder when you were looking for your car keys in your bag. Turns out you’d somehow dropped them near his car (which you didn’t even know was his car), and he was on his way out too when he spotted them. 

Things like this happened so often, you began to get used to Bradley. Talking to him became easier, less nerve wracking. It got to a point where you even started to look forward to seeing him out and about, because your interactions always ended up leaving you in a better mood. He was funny, charismatic as hell, and definitely easy on the eyes, and as much as you were afraid to admit it at first, you started to like him a little more than you knew you should’ve. Part of you thought that he might like you too, but you just weren’t sure. 

Yeah, he was a little flirty with you, but you just chalked that up to it being part of his personality. No way he was actually serious about it. That was just who Bradley Bradshaw was. 

Or so you thought.

The answer to your wonders came in the form of a stack of your mail in your mailbox one day a few weeks after the whole giant package fiasco. There was a sticky note attached to the top one, a message scrawled across the paper in small, messy letters. 

These were mixed in with my mail today. My my, how the tables have turned. Here’s my number in case the post office decides to make this a new thing. - Bradley 

You had to hand it to him—Bradley sure knew how to make his mark. You smiled to yourself, phone in hand, fingers entering his number and tapping out a message before you could even take a second to dwell on it. 

y/n: that offer for coffee still on the table by any chance? 

You set it face down on the kitchen counter the moment after you pressed send, walking away from it like that would quell your nerves as you waited for Bradley’s response. But really, what was the likelihood that he was going to see your message in the next—

Ding.

It was pathetic how fast you bolted back to the kitchen to snatch up your phone. 

Bradley: Absolutely. Tomorrow at noon sound okay?

y/n: sounds perfect

Unbeknownst to you, Bradley had also been waiting anxiously for your text, digging his phone out of his pocket the second he felt it buzz, hoping his not-so-subtle way of slipping you his number wasn't too forward of him. He couldn’t help the stupid grin that stretched his lips as his eyes read your text over and over again. It would be perfect. 

Now if he could only figure out how to actually work the goddamn coffee machine, it would be even better. 

[astyrial]

casanova captain bradley bradshaw x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: there's a new pilot in town word count: 1.4k warnings: drinking, c/s = callsign  masterlist | requests are open

    it's your third day in san diego, well really, on the naval air station north island base. there isn't much you know of the area, let alone the local bars and restaurants. however, a name catches your attention upon hearing so many of your colleagues discuss it during a training activity. the hard deck, a well known bar for many navy officers, seems rather welcoming to newcomers. 

  so, in an attempt to integrate yourself into the area (despite the anxiety ridding your veins), you decide to make your way down there. in an outfit that doesn't exactly exude 'naval officer', you jump onto your electric bike and ride through the base's gate. the streets are packed for the evening, leaving you to take your time. 

  you park your bike, buckling your helmet to the seat. the sky is filled with sea salt smells and clouds that roll across the ocean. a soft sigh passes your lips as you look around for a second. the hard deck's parking lot is nearly filled with cars and motorcycles, a few people still packing into the building. 

  your brain rattles with whether or not you should head inside, however, that little voice telling you to go for it, overrules the common sense. just as another car pulls into the parking lot, you make your way into the building. it's nearly packed full with only a few open spots still at the bar.

  in an attempt to grab yourself a drink, you weave through the crowd and make your way to the bar. the bartender is moving back and forth between people and pouring more beer. she has a rather soft and sweet smile on her face despite the rush. you take a seat on one of the stools and grab your wallet. 

  after freeing herself from hoards of navy officers and college students, she finally catches you across the bar. "you're new here," is the first thing she says, something that you never would've imagined she would know.

  "sharp eyes, it's my first week at the base."

  "well, aren't you lucky then, because your first drink is on me. i nearly never forget my patrons, so, what'll you have darling?" she- penny, as her name tag suggests, leans against the bar's wood paneling.

  you raise your eyebrows in surprise, shrugging your shoulders. drinking was never a huge thing within your family, something you never quite got into, "um, how about you pick your favorite beer, and i will have that! thank you."

  penny clearly takes a liking to your short 'thank you', her warm smile becoming a little more genuine. you wait for a minute as she looks over the selection, your eyes looking around nervously at the crowd. a couple of the officers were in your class earlier in the day. meanwhile most of the patrons were completely absent from your memory.

  what doesn't help is someone grabbing the free seat beside you, his cologne strong. it wafts through the air until it reaches your nose. you turn away for a second, trying to breathe in a semblance of fresh air. when you turn back, penny is making her way over, two beers in hand.

  "one for you and one for the regular," she sets them down, your eyes looking over at the so called 'regular'.

  the first thing you notice is the bright hawaiian shirt and the prominent mustache lining his upper lip. he looks over at you as well, however, his eyes return to the bottle in front of him rather quickly. you nod slightly, giving penny a smile to show your thanks. she takes a few steps away to catch another person asking for a drink.

  you take a quick drink from the bottle and wonder if coming was the best decision. you have no one to talk to, and you certainly don't know what to do as you awkwardly drink. plus, a lot of people at bars are not exactly people you tend to-

  "good beer choice, usually the pretty ladies go for something a little different. are you navy or something?" his whole body turns so that it's facing you. 

  you finally get a good look at him when you turn as well, your eyebrow raised in surprise. mostly surprise that he suspects you're navy and is still hitting on you in a packed bar. "i am, how about you get rid of the pretty and then we can talk more," his dark eyes staring right back at yours.

  he shrugs, taking another drink from his glass, a smile still on his face. there's a bit about him that seems so intriguing to you, and quite attractive as well. his light tan, the clear muscles beneath his shirt, the cocky smile on his face. 

  "well, i only say things that are true, i can't go around lying now," the man gains a small smile out of you, you bring your drink up to attempt to hide it, "i have a reputation to keep up here."

  you tilt your head, your eyes open wide. "right... such a gentleman. so, mr. hawaiian shirt, you navy too? or you just hoping you can get away with hitting on a navy officer in a building full of navy officers?" it's your turn to give a somewhat cocky smile, trying to add to the somewhat playful banter.

  "i am, rooster, bradley, at your service," he does a small two-finger wave, giving you his callsign first.

  "oh, you're one of the ones who took down that uranium plant a few months ago... my name is c/s, y/n. you're a hell of a pilot, shit at flirting though, i'll say that," your smile suddenly becomes rather wide, your arms crossing in front of your chest.

  bradley brings a hand to his chest is fake surprise, his mouth turned into a frown. he leans back some and shakes his head. he closes his eyes as though he's attempting to fight tears, "oh i'm so wounded, i can't believe you would say such a thing. i am absolutely not shit at flirting, trust me."

  "i'm the one you are flirting with, and i say you are," you roll your eyes at the well-known pilot, unable to rid yourself of your smile, "plus only one of us is trying to pick up someone at a bar."

  "your smile says otherwise..."

  "excuse me? my smile says otherwise? sure, rooster, keep thinking that," instantly, you're biting your lips, trying to hide the smile that wouldn't disappear. 

  bradley shrugs, crinkling his nose, his hand quickly reaching for a small napkin resting on the counter. "well, in case it's not just in my mind, here's my phone number. or perhaps i'll just have to run into you around the base," he slides it towards you, not losing eye contact. 

  a ring of butterflies cause a sense of nausea in your stomach, unable to know what to say to him. you grab it off of the counter and brush your hand against his. "just taking this to throw it away at home, don't wanna leave it here to be penny's problem. or any other girl's," you stuff the napkin into your back pocket. 

  "right, i wouldn't want it to be any other girls' problems either..." bradley's eyes stay trained on yours, meanwhile, his hand grabbing his beer for another drink. 

  before you can say anything else to the casanova captain, someone is walking up to the two of you, swinging his arm over bradley's shoulder. the man is around the same age, a toothpick between his lips, and a badge sits on his shirt with the name 'seresin' imprinted. he looks you up and down, a stupid smile on his lips. 

  "so this is why you decided to abandon our pool game, slick," the seresin guy holds out his hand for you to grab, looking confident as you've ever seen. 

  you grab it, being quick to pull your hand away and return it to the counter. he furrows his eyebrows, seemingly confused by your actions to close him off. you can only conclude that this doesn't normally happen to him and that you're a phenomenon in his life. 

  "well, i should probably get going, i have an early morning. it was nice to meet you bradley, maybe i'll see you around. i personally enjoy a good morning jog," you give him a quick wink, looking up at seresin a moment later, "see you around too, seresin."

  it was this moment that really made bradley realize that you were definitely going to be using that number that he gave you.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hcs for being Natasha “Phoenix’s” sister from top gun?

Being Phoenix's Sister Headcannons

She's five years older than you but holds that over you from time to time

You met Bradley and Jake after her Top Gun class graduation

Bradley treats you as his own little sister

And Hangman annoys you to no end, to which you annoy him right back

You've also got a flying license, you're just not a naval aviator

Nat and Bradley taught you how to fly an F-14 in sligjt combat, that was a week after their top gun grad.

Under no circumstances does Phe let you use the stove or the oven. She barely let's you use the microwave without her watch when she's state side

^Which is fair, considering the amount of fires you've had to extinguish

You live off a bunch if vending machine food at the top gun base

And that's how you met your sister's CO, Pete Mitchell, for the special detachment her, Bradly and jackass (aka Jake) were called back for. He caught you kicking the vending machine since it stopped half way through, not dropping the bag of chips you paid for.

To which you guys had a pretty good conversation together, forgetting to mention you're not an actual aviator.

He didn't learn about who you are until after the suicide mission. He saw you and Nat huh each other tightly after everyone got back state side, on the beach. Everyone was relaxing on the beach after the huge excitement that had happened.

Nat introduced you to him as her little sister, and you chuckled as his mouth gaped in surprise.

Everyone watches as you throw one of the footballs they brought at Hangman after him insulting your sister.

^Bradley giving you a fistbump and Nat sighs while trying to hide her smile.

You, Nat and Halo have a big sleepover movie night, just the three of you girls. Halo taking a liking to you, seeing a lot of Nat in you.

You 'borrow' a bunch of Nat's navy sweaters and wear them around the base and the Hard Deck, seeing how many people will belive that you're in the Navy.

You and Penny become good friends at the bar

^you learn some (a lot of) dirt on Maverick from her

Bradley explains to you about his relationship with Maverick and you may or may not have smacked him upside the head about how he cut connection with the man

^to which he agreed he deserved

The whole dagger squad now treat you as their baby sister and you can't go anywhere without 'protection' aka one of them.

You love your big sister to death, when you were younger you wanted to be just like her. Strong, loyal, pretty and much more.

Amelia and you become good friends, you like a mentor to her and teaching her about different flight maneuvers with model planes, everything you learnt from Nat and Bradley...and maybe....maybe Jake.

[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.