#but i mean if i believed it bradley would probably believe it too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 5 months

Text

The Intern Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley had an easy way about him that you appreciated. Working for him all summer sounded promising, and you were determined to make it fun for both of you. But as you dipped your toes into getting to know one another on the flights from San Diego to Lisbon, you ended up closer to him than you ought to be, both conversationally and physically.

Warnings: Language, brief mention of drugs (eventually 18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

"I still can't believe someone is paying me fifty thousand dollars to spend my summer on a yacht," you mused as the private Cessna jet gained altitude over the California desert landscape.

Bradley turned and looked at you from his plush leather seat across the narrow aisle and smirked. "You needed the money that badly?"

"Don't play games," you told him, and he laughed. "My point is, I would have done this for free just to get Ted off my back."

His fingers tightened a bit on his armrest, knuckles growing white as he closed his eyes and said, "Now you tell me. My department budget could be looking a lot fatter right now if it wasn't for you."

You could feel the airplane leveling out as the flight attendant, a woman named Melissa, stood and made her way back toward the two of you. "Oh please," you groaned, earning one of those grins from him that made you feel light inside. "I know how much the shareholders make, Mr. Bradshaw. It's not like it's not listed on the Nasdaq Composite if you dig deep enough."

"Can I get anything for either of you?" Melissa asked.

"I'll take an Old Fashioned, please. Hold the cherries," you replied while Bradley just shook his head in a jerky motion.

When Melissa disappeared behind the black curtain, you asked, "Why are you so tense? Have a drink and relax."

He huffed out a laugh. "It's eight in the morning. A drink is not going to help me."

You leaned a little closer, and his gaze definitely dipped down to your unzipped sweatshirt. "Don't tell me you're into something harder?" you asked, already thinking you'd be disappointed by his answer. You'd been there and done that. Hung out with and dated guys who were users, and it was not something you wanted to be around. Even out of your sorority sisters, there were only a handful who weren't high all week during grad school.

Bradley looked at you with alarm. "I'm absolutely not going to allow drugs on the yacht, Ivy League."

"Good," you replied right away, already feeling more at ease as Melissa dropped off your cocktail. "Thank you."

But she was looking at Bradley now as she said, "Please let me know if I can get you... anything."

He waved her off as you took a sip of your mediocre cocktail. Melissa had gone a little heavy handed with the bitters, probably because she was too focused on your hot boss to measure things correctly. "Take a sip," you told him, reaching across the aisle with your glass. "You look like you need it."

He grunted and accepted the drink, and a few seconds later, he had downed the whole thing. "Thanks," he whispered. "I hate this part of traveling to Europe for Avio. The flights are going to take forever."

You narrowed your eyes at him and took back your empty glass while he white knuckled the armrest again. "You were an aviator, Mr. Bradshaw."

When he looked at you again, his cheeks were a little flushed as he softly said, "You don't have to call me that. Bradley is fine."

"Bradley," you said with a smile, and his face softened a little bit. "Why don't you like the Cessna? I mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also hoping for something at least a little more luxurious from Avio, but it's not that bad."

He shook his head at you, something you were pretty sure you were just going to have to get used to for the summer. But his mustache twitched as he licked his lips and said, "Maybe chartered flights are normal for you, Ivy League, but I got used to being the pilot. Of something much less comfortable than a Cessna Hemisphere. So this just feels inherently wrong to me. I mean, I just drank a cocktail."

"Inhaled," you corrected. "And technically it was my cocktail," you said, waving to Melissa and holding up the glass and two fingers.

"Semantics," he grunted. "I miss my Super Hornet right now. Not only were there no drinks, there wasn't even a bathroom."

You watched Melissa duck behind the curtain again, probably to forget how to make a cocktail again. "Well, we'll be there soon," you told Bradley.

"I doubt these pilots can do Mach 2, so not fast enough for me."

You sighed, knowing this would probably be a lot easier for him if you could get him to drink a second Old Fashioned, but when Melissa dropped two more of them off, they were both garnished with a cherry. "I asked you to hold the cherries."

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Melissa muttered. "I can remove it for you."

"I'm allergic, so I'll actually need you to remake mine," you replied, and Bradley started to hand his back as well.

"Remake hers, and mine too," he grunted, suddenly looking far less nervous about the flight as he made to stand up. "Fresh glasses and everything. I don't want cherries anywhere near her." You looked up at him in surprise as he kind of rolled his eyes and followed Melissa. "I'll make sure she does it right," he whispered, and you watched him walk up to the curtain, as confident as he usually was.

"Thanks," you replied, even though nobody was there to hear you now. Well, he had promised he'd do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable. You watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, and you pressed your lips together. That blue Oxford shirt was the exact best color he could possibly wear, and you wondered if he knew it or if it was an accident that he chose it.

When he met your eyes, you didn't look away. You didn't really care if he knew you were checking him out. Until you did. Because when he walked back with two new drinks, you realized how little you knew about him. "Here," he grunted, voice deep and raspy. Then he clinked his glass to yours before sinking back into the aisle seat opposite yours again and buckling his seatbelt once more.

"Thanks for doing that."

He smiled at you. "Can't lose my intern on her first day. Especially since I've never had one before."

You perked up, loving that you'd cornered the market. "I'm your first intern?"

"Yeah." He was back to downing his drink and looking miserable now, practically throwing the empty glass aside in favor of gripping the armrest. Abandoning your drink after one sip, you stood and stepped over his outstretched legs, his eyes following your every move as you eased yourself down into the window seat next to him. "You okay?" he asked, looking a little amused now that you were just inches away from him.

"I am, but you're not," you told him with an air of authority. "Just relax," you added as you took his hand from the armrest and held it in both of yours. His brown eyes went a little wider, and his lips parted like he wanted to say something. Probably question what you were doing. But you said, "You'll feel better in a few minutes," as you worked your thumbs along the pressure points in his big, rough palm. And then he closed his eyes and without a word, he leaned back in his seat with his hand cradled in yours. Soon he was sound asleep.

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

Bradley woke up to an almost pleasant humming sound all around him. His hand was warm and wrapped up in something soft, and when he opened his eyes, your face was just a few inches from his as you slept. His body thrummed with something akin to desire as you pursed your haughty lips in your sleep, long lashes grazing your perfect cheeks.

Shit. His hand was resting on your body, fingers tangled up with yours and wrapped in your designer hoodie. His knuckles were pressed to the soft skin which was exposed between your high waisted pants and your damn sports bra. And based on the way the plane was started to descend, he'd taken a five fucking hour nap all cuddled up with his intern. With Ted's goddamn daughter.

Hands off. He'd been telling himself to keep his hands off of you, and just a few hours in, he was literally doing the exact opposite. But you'd been sweet to him, carefully massaging the pressure points in his hand until he was able to fall asleep. You must have drifted off then, too. And now he was loath to remove his hand from your body or look away from you.

He needed another fucking drink. Or several. He leaned carefully over you, and sure enough, he could see the New York skyline coming into view through the small window. And he could smell your perfume. And that was when you opened your eyes, immediately sitting up a few inches and nearly bumping noses with him.

"Sorry," he grunted. "I was just trying to see where we were."

"Where are we?" you asked, your voice soft and a little rough from sleep. Jesus, he liked the way that sounded.

"Almost to New York. Want me to ask the pilot to circle back to Philly so you can wave to your alma mater?"

You laughed and sat up a little more, arching your back, but you didn't immediately let go of him. "No, thank you. I've only been gone for a week, so I'm sure the City of Brotherly Love is enjoying this break."

Bradley found himself continually laughing at your words, but now you were looking at his hand all linked with yours, so he started to pull his free. You didn't stop him, and when you looked up at him, you even asked, "Did you sleep okay?"

He nodded his head once. "I did. Thank you. For making me feel better."

You sat up the rest of the way and stretched, and he had to look away as you said, "A good intern is good at everything."

Your words weren't dirty, so why the hell were his thoughts? He should be trying to find out more about your father, not imagining you wearing a fluffy white bathrobe while you drank an Old Fashioned sans cherry next to his bed. He was miles away in his mind when the plane touched down on the runway before taxiing to the refueling spot. His stomach was growling wildly now as Melissa walked back and offered them a very late lunch.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," she said, looking between you and Bradley like the two of you had been all over each other. When she turned away to get the salads and sandwiches ready, you climbed over him to use the bathroom, and Bradley watched you ignore a phone call as you went. He also realized that he'd have to tread very carefully around potential clients over the next few weeks. It was one thing for Melissa to make a comment like that, but it would be something entirely different if a line like that got back to Ted.

While the plane was refueled and the pilots switched places for the longer flight from New York to Portugal, you and he ate in companionable silence. You'd returned to your seat across the aisle, and you ignored another call before tucking your phone away in your bag. Bradley also used this time to drink a gin and tonic in the hopes he'd be able to sleep again, slightly afraid you wouldn't join him on his side of the aisle to make him feel cozy again.

"We'll be taking off again in five minutes," Melissa informed him as she cleared away the meal and brought pillows and blankets. Your phone was out again now, and you ignored yet another call as Bradley shook his head.

"Are you going to keep me up at all hours of the night on the yacht yelling at your little boyfriend on the phone?"

You scoffed and looked right at him as you said, "I don't date little boys. Are you going to keep me up calling your wife and kids back in San Diego?"

He didn't want to laugh at the way you talked to him and kept him on his toes. He also registered that the way you'd let him hold your hand while he slept had only come from a platonic place if you were just now asking if he was married. "I don't have a wife or kids."

"Why not?" you asked, leaning on your armrest with your tits smashed together. "You could be married. If you wanted. You're tall and you have all your hair."

"Are those the only prerequisites?" he asked, trying not to look anywhere other than at your face. God, your little bikinis were going to be the absolute death of him if he didn't get fucking laid soon.

"No," you replied without missing a beat. "You're smart, too. Handsome. Tons of money. And you seem nice. Good manners. You make me laugh. Seems like someone would have snapped you up off the market by now."

His cheeks felt warm again as he tried to figure out how to answer. You'd just complimented him nine different ways, and he was reeling a bit. "Because I was in the Navy. Nobody in their right mind would trust a Navy guy with that level of commitment."

"Why not?"

"They lie and they cheat," he said, repeating the lines women had been telling him since he was twenty two. "Nobody you'd want to settle down with."

But you didn't look convinced as your smile tilted a little higher on one side. "Are you a cheater?"

He knew somehow he wouldn't get away with speaking anything but the plain truth to you from here on out. "No."

"I didn't think so." You looked satisfied as you settled back in your seat, about to snuggle under your blanket. The sky was a little darker now, and there was nothing below except for the Atlantic Ocean.

He had a slight buzz from the gin, and he felt a lot better than he had earlier this morning. He reached for his bag and pulled out his laptop before crooking his finger and coaxing you back to the seat next to him. "We have a little work to do, Ivy League."

While he expected you to complain, you didn't. Rather you popped out of your seat with your pillow and blanket, climbed over him and settled in the window seat once more. "What is it?" you asked eagerly, and when he logged in to his email account, he saw something from Ted right away. Just a reminder to keep himself on track.

"I'm going to teach you a little bit about the Avio software we will be marketing, so by the time we land in Lisbon, you'll know as much as I do."

You curled up with your pillow and blanket and looked at him, your words doing more to him than you probably intended. "Don't test me, Sir, or I may end up knowing more than you."

"You're a brat."

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

This time when you woke up, it wasn't to Bradley's touch or his brown eyes. This time it was to Melissa's laughter and Bradley's soft voice. "When are you flying back to the states?" she asked him as you cracked your eyes open.

"Not any time soon," he replied smoothly. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Well I hope I'm on your flight back," she said flirtatiously as you propped your head up.

But Bradley wasn't paying attention to her now as he turned your way. "You're up," he mused, and you just nodded, wishing you'd had time to shower or check how you looked before he saw you. "We'll be landing soon. And then we'll get you and your designer luggage to the yacht."

You watched Melissa roll her eyes at you before she stood. "I'll be right back with coffee and some breakfast."

"Hold the cherries! Please!" you reminded her, just to be obnoxious. When she pretended she didn't hear you, Bradley chuckled. "You know, it's kind of refreshing being given an attitude. Is this how you feel when I give you one?"

His eyes went a little wider. "Don't make me call your father."

"I thought you valued your intern," you replied with a smirk. "So don't make me spread that nasty little rumor around Avio that you went to the University of Bumblefuck."

"Virginia," he snorted.

"Whatever."

Melissa dropped off mugs, a carafe of coffee, cream, sugar and pastries. "No cherry," she said blandly as you reached for a blueberry muffin.

"Much appreciated," you replied as you peeled back the wrapper and took a nibble while Bradley ate an apple danish in two bites before he poured coffee into both mugs. Clearly the two of you were hungry. You also had no idea what time it was. You had to put your phone on silent since your dad wouldn't stop calling you, even though you told him you'd talk to him when you got on the yacht.

"How do you take your coffee?" Bradley asked as you silently chewed. You went to reach for the creamer, but he pulled it away and looked at you.

You swallowed down your muffin and said, "Cream and sugar, but you don't have to do it. I should probably be doing it for both of us."

He shrugged and got your coffee fixed up exactly the way you would have made it yourself, as he said, "You and I will be working in close proximity, and I feel like this is the kind of detail I should know."

"Well how do you take your coffee?" you asked, but he set down the cream and sugar without adding anything to his. "Black, no sugar."

"Black, no sugar," he confirmed before taking a sip. You watched the alluring scars on his neck as he swallowed, once again surprised that he wasn't married. He didn't seem as helpless as your father, but he seemed like the kind of person who should have someone warm at home when he returned from work each night. Someone to look after him.

You took a sip of your own coffee and smiled, because it really was perfect, especially for something that was made on an aircraft. "Thank you."

"Any time," he responded, and you eased back in your seat and looked out the window as the Portuguese coastline came into view. You drank your coffee and picked at the muffin, watching as the very early morning sun made the Atlantic Ocean glitter. There were marinas filled with yachts and sailboats, and you wondered if Avio's was amongst them.

"Were you on the yacht with my dad last year?" you mused as the plane dipped lower in the sky.

Bradley set his mug down, and maybe it was just you, but his features suddenly seemed a little guarded. You'd always been good at reading people, which made it easy to get a favorable response when you needed one. But he'd never looked at you this way before. "For a few days. One of my buddies from the Navy was there too. Jake Seresin."

You blinked and his expression was neutral again. "The name sounds familiar."

Bradley laughed as the plane touched down. "The face will be familiar, too. Soon enough. He's champing at the bit to get onboard for a few days here and there this summer."

You set your mug down as well and said, "Don't worry, Sir. I'll dazzle him to bits during the dinner parties."

Bradley's nostrils flared, and his pupils grew wider. "I don't doubt that."

When you laughed, he smiled before looking down at his hands. "Well, Bradley, I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get on the yacht. I wonder what kind of caviar the chef will serve for lunch."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, prompting him to do the same. "There are different kinds of caviar?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he picked up your tote and handed it to you.

"Don't embarrass me, Bradley. The other interns will all laugh at me behind my back."

But he just shook his head as he moved to the side and said, "After you, Ivy League." So you led the way to the front of the aircraft, thanked both pilots and Melissa, even though she clearly didn't like you, and you climbed down the stairs onto the warm tarmac.

You shouldn't and absolutely couldn't keep reacting to Bradley the way you were, but when he placed his hand on your lower back and said, "This way," you nearly moaned. You looked up at him as he tried to guide you toward the waiting limousine. "Go climb in. I'll grab the bags."

"I can get my own bags," you insisted.

"I know you can, but you have nine hundred of them, and I'm still hungry, and I can do it faster."

"Fine," you replied, and you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked toward the driver who was holding the back door open for you. "Thank you." As you slid across the leather seat, you watched Bradley effortlessly lift multiple pieces of your luggage at the same time while you bit your lip. What the hell was it about him? You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but he was enjoyable to watch. His voice made you feel a little fuzzy. He was raw and genuine like your favorite pair of well worn Levi's which were tucked away in your Dior suitcase he was carrying with one massive hand.

You looked away. You counted to ten. You already knew this was going to be an issue, so you weren't sure why it was hitting you now. When you glanced his way again, he was bringing his own two, nondescript pieces of luggage to the limousine trunk, and then he was sliding across the seat next to you.

"Twenty minutes to the marina from here," he murmured, his hand coming to rest on the seat next to your thigh. "And then we can get to work."

You pursed your lips. "I was under the impression we would be playing, too."

He chuckled as you started to look through the compartments next to the seat. "We can play a little bit."

You opened what turned out to be an ice chest, and ran your fingers along a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon. "We can start with this," you said, pulling it free from the ice and holding it up.

He was looking at you, not the bottle, but that little twitch of his mustache was his tell. Even though his eyes seemed stern, he held out his hand, and asked, "Think we can finish it in twenty minutes?"

You smiled brilliantly as you handed it to him. "Don't ever ask me that again."

"Sassy," he muttered, unwrapping the foil and slowly twisting the cage loose before wiggling the cork free with his big hands until it popped. "Here you go."

"No," you insisted as the driver pulled out onto the main road. "You first. Drink to a successful summer."

Bradley nodded once and took a sip before handing you the bottle. His eyes were on your lips as you pressed them to the bottle where his had just been. "To a successful summer," he echoed, his voice a deep rumble as the city went by in a blur. You couldn't stop smiling, and neither could he, and approximately eighteen minutes later, when he helped you out of the limousine, his cheeks were flushed pink.

"Is that it?" you asked, very slowly removing your hand from his as two men rushed your way in matching gray shorts and navy polos. There was a massive yacht with Down to Business lettered across the back and Avio Technologies along the side.

"That's it," Bradley confirmed, slipping his black sunglasses on as he reached to shake hands with the two men who introduced themselves as Antonio and Nikolai. Bradley told them your name, and they both took your hand in turn. "She's my intern for the summer," he said smoothly, and then they started to unload your luggage.

"Let's go," you said, glancing back at Bradley as you started down toward the marina gate, and then he was right next to you again with a few long strides. "I hope you can find your Armani swim shorts quickly, because that pool is calling my name."

"I can, actually. One of the benefits to only bringing two suitcases." He helped you over the gap, and as soon as you were on the yacht, you felt at home. You knew this was going to be the summer you needed.

"Let's go meet the captain," he murmured, his hand finding your back again.

"Do you think he has more champagne?"

"Ivy... it's nine in the morning."

"I'm still on San Diego time."

Bradley paused for a beat while he did the math. "It's one in the morning back home."

"Exactly," you told him with a little pout that you knew wouldn't actually faze him. He just smiled as he guided you past the pool you couldn't wait to jump into and an enormous jacuzzi. You walked through a dining room that could seat twelve people and past a fully stocked bar. It was like the best offerings from your sorority house and your dad's estate all rolled into one.

"Welcome aboard!" boomed a voice with a French accent. "We've been expecting you. I'm Captain Marcell." He was probably in his sixties with gray hair and a matching beard, and he reminded you a bit of your favorite professor at UPenn.

"Pleasure," you replied, shaking his hand after Bradley told him your name.

Next to him were lined up two friendly looking women, one with short brown hair and one with long brown hair. Beatriz and Lucia, the stewardesses, would be taking care of everything you needed. And next to them was an attractive man wearing a bit of a scowl.

"I'm Rocco. The chef. I can make anything. I don't like changing the menu at the last minute."

Oh, you liked him already as you shook his hand. And then your heart fluttered as Bradley said, "I need to speak with you about removing any cherries from the yacht before we leave the marina."

"Cherries?" Rocco asked, scowling deeper.

Bradley glanced at you as he removed his sunglasses, and his mustache twitched. "Yes. Can't have any onboard. That applies to the kitchen and the bars. My intern has an allergy."

"I'll take care of it," Rocco replied before turning away, and you'd never been more certain that someone would take care of something in your life. Then Captain Marcell handed Bradley a folder.

"Rough itinerary. Weather report for the week. List of phone numbers. Please let me know how long you'd like to spend in each port. I can of course adjust anything as needed. Now if you will select your cabins, Antonio and Nikolai will deliver your luggage."

"Thank you," Bradley replied, handing the folder to you. "You're in charge of this. Now why don't we head down so you can choose a room?" He nodded his head toward a wide set of stairs.

You walked down to the lower deck, and once you and he were alone again, he pointed to the left. "The sooner we get settled, the sooner the swim trunks come out?" you asked softly.

"Something like that." His soft chuckle was right behind you as you stopped at a mint green door with gold trim.

"Is this my room?" you asked, placing your hand on the doorknob. There was a little keypad next to it.

"If you want it to be," he replied. "Or, there are three others you can choose from."

"Which one are you taking?"

His eyes flitted from your face to a spot a little further down the hallway. "White door."

When you turned to investigate, you saw a pink door directly across from that one. "Wouldn't it be easier if my room was near yours?"

"Probably." His expression was neutral, but that damn mustache was giving him away.

"I'll take the pink one."

"Very good. I'll get the room codes from Beatriz, and I'll tell them where to deliver the luggage."

"Great," you replied, still standing close to him, but he didn't move.

"Perfect," he said, brown eyes focused on yours. The hallway was narrow, and now he was placing his hands on his trim hips, taking up even more space. "Try not to get into too much trouble while you look around."

Finally he turned toward the stairs, but you called his name right away. "Bradley?" He glanced back over his shoulder with a questioning look. "Thanks for mentioning the cherries."

"Sure," he replied easily. "I got you, Ivy." Then he was walking back up the stairs and out of sight.

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

We are about to set sail. Let's get into a little trouble. Let's have a little fun. Already feeling a little tension between Bradley and Ivy League. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

447 notes · View notes

guccifrog · 3 months

Text

you don't even know my name

chris sturniolo x f!reader

warnings : SMUT hm hm hm hmmm 😈🙏

I cringed so hard writing this but here is your fic also it's not proofread ☝🔥

•As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, you and your best friend Ava found yourselves nestled comfortably in the cozy confines of your car, as you had been for the past few hours. The scent of freshly popped popcorn filled the air. You had been discussing everything from your favorite TV shows to the latest celebrity gossip, all while capturing it all on camera for your loyal YouTube followers.

"I just can't get over how hot he is" Ava gushed as she scrolled through a picture of a popular actor on her phone. "I kid you not y/n if this man asked me to get on my knees and bark" she paused looking up at you with seriousness in her eyes "I'd do it!" You couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic tone. "Oh please" you chuckled.

"I mean he's hot and all but imagine moaning his name"you added, taking a sip of your root beer. Ava paused for a moment, her face scrunching in concentration. "yeah you're right" she finally said, "It's so unmoanable, like you can't even do it right!" You couldn't help but snicker at her poor attempt. "Okay, enough of that," Ava said, rolling her eyes.

"no, but like let's talk about unmoanable names," You said, sitting up straight. "Like, imagine moaning something like 'Bradley' or 'Austin' or something, it's just not it!" You both giggled at the ridiculousness of it.

"how about 'Christopher'" Ava asked, making you both laugh. "oh Christopher, yes! Just like that" you whined sarcastically. The two of you were in hysterics now, tears streaming down your faces as you tried to catch your breath.

"Wait wait, you could use the short version too like Chris or Topher, and then it'd be like 'Oh-Topher!' That would be so much worse!" You both collapsed into fresh fits of giggles, unable to contain your amusement any longer. "Oh my god, I can't believe we're laughing so hard at this" Ava managed to choke out between laughs. "But like seriously, imagine trying to moan out 'Oh Christopher' while you're bouncing on it..." you trailed off, unable to finish the thought without losing it again.

"WOAH" Ava's eyes widened as she processed what you had just said. She covered her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter. "Oh my god, oh my god!"

Your sides hurt from laughing so hard, tears streaming down your face. "okay I guess we should probably-" you started, but Ava cut you off with a loud laugh. "end this video here" You snorted, trying to catch your breath. 'Oh, Christopher'..." Your voice trailed off, before ending the video, and the two of you dissolved into another fit of giggles, clutching each other for support.

After regaining your composure, you both decided to go home and edit the video before posting it online. you couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you watched back the footage, "I can't believe we were laughing so hard at something so stupid," Ava chuckled, shaking her head. "But hey, at least it made a good video," you replied, your eyes still glued to your laptop. Once you were satisfied with your editing, you quickly uploaded the video to your YouTube channel.

The next few days, the video went so viral unexpectedly that you and Ava couldn't believe your eyes. Thousands of comments flooded your YouTube page. The likes and subscribers to your channel were duplicated, and everyone was sharing clips from the video on TikTok and Instagram. You even got invited to a huge influencer party this weekend. You and Ava were both completely overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. You even found yourselves scrolling through the comments, reading all the different interpretations of the 'Oh Christopher' joke. Some people thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard, while others were confused as to why it was so funny at all.

The dimly lit room was filled with the familiar sounds of typing as Nick, was sat on the sofa across from Chris scrolling through his phone. The two brothers were in their usual setting, the living room of their apartment. It was just another normal evening for them until a video that popped up on Nick's screen caught his eye and sent him into fits of laughter.

"Dude, you gotta see this" Nick exclaimed, barely able to contain his laughter as he threw his phone at Chris.

Chris, confused by his brother's sudden outburst , took the phone and began to watch the video. It was a clip of two girls, sitting in a car.

"But like seriously, imagine trying to moan out 'Oh Christopher' while you're bouncing on it..." One of the girls in the video trailed off,

"WOAH!" The other one looked at her in shock, before they both burst into laughter.

Chris stared at Nick's phone in disbelief, his eyes widening as he continued to watch the video. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle, and soon enough they were both doubled over with laughter. "Oh my god," Chris gasped between laughs, "this is too much." He handed the phone back to Nick, still chuckling.

Their laughter died down as they both sat there, breathing heavily. Chris grabbed his phone, opening TikTok."Nick send me that video" Nick raised his eyebrows but decided to comply.

As Chris watched the video, again, he clicked on the hashtag that had one of the girls' names in it and found hundreds of similar videos, and some edits. He clicked on the first video that popped up. It was a different clip from the same video.

"how about 'Christopher'" the girl asked

"oh Christopher, yes! Just like that" the other one whined, sarcastically. But something about the way she said it made Chris' heart race a little too fast. it turned him on.

He couldn't believe it, but there was something about hearing his name come out of her lips like that, in that suggestive tone, that did it for him.

He couldn't help but feel a strange tingle in his pants. He quickly looked away from the screen, trying to pretend it wasn't affecting him. he felt stupid for getting turned on by some random girl on TikTok. But the more he thought about it, the more aroused he became. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, wishing he could just focus on something else. He felt guilty, ashamed even.

"I hate traffic," you complained as your best friend Ava pulled up to the curb in front of the mansion. The address was an unlisted number in the most exclusive part of town, and you'd been circling the block for over twenty minutes. "Why couldn't they just have this party somewhere normal?"

"This is normal for them," Ava shrugged, throwing her car into the park. She grabbed her small, designer purse and hopped out of the car, glancing around at the other luxury vehicles surrounding you.

You both walked up to the huge, gold-plated doors and were immediately greeted by a bouncer who checked your names off a list. The inside of the mansion was even more luxurious than you'd expected, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork adorning the walls. The party itself was in full swing, with people dancing to the loud music and laughing as they sipped on their drinks.

"Hey, check out that guy over there," Ava pointed at a tall, dark-haired man standing by himself near the grand piano. He looked like he was lost in thought, not paying attention to anyone else around him. "He's totally cute. Let's go say hi!"

"girl, no," you said shaking your head, "you don't even know him" you whispered to your best friend. Ava rolled her eyes" When did YOU start caring if we know people or not? Come on, he's cute and looks lonely" she insisted.

You sighed"Fine, but let me get a drink first" Ava nodded, and You made your way through the crowded room, carefully navigating between people as you made your way to the bar. The bartender smiled warmly at you as you approached. "What can I get you tonight?"

"Surprise me," you said with a small smile. The bartender reached for a bottle behind him and began pouring liquids into a shiny martini glass. "On the house," he said, sliding the drink across the polished wood. "My name's Damon, by the way." You took a sip of the drink, savoring the smooth, fruity flavor. "Thanks, Damon," you said, setting the glass down on the counter.

While you were chatting with Damon, you kept an eye on Ava and the mysterious man she'd been so interested in. You decided to let her have her fun, but you weren't quite ready to join them yet. As you took another sip of your drink, you found yourself lost in thought.

You were just about to set your glass down when you felt a hand on your waist, gently guiding you off to the side, before letting go. You turned to see who it was and was met with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you had ever seen.

"Sorry," a gentle voice said, before disappearing. You turned back to the party, taking in the scene, Ava was now dancing with the tall, dark-haired guy. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Ava looked like she was having the time of her life.

You took one last sip from your drink, before placing it down with a 'clack' on the counter. With a smile, you slowly made your way through the crowd, the rhythm of the music guiding your steps. The dance floor was packed, but somehow you managed to find a spot where you could lose yourself in the music.

Kiss It Better by Rihanna started playing and you smiled, the beat was perfect for your mood. You raised your arm in the air and began to sway to the music, feeling the rhythm in your bones. You closed your eyes, letting the music take control as you moved your hips and spun around, singing along to the words.

unbeknownst to you, the same blue-eyed stranger from before had been watching you as you danced, to the music, and seemed to enjoy it as much as you did.

His eyes locked on you as you swayed, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You span around, your eyes catch his and hold them, you smile tilting your head slightly in confusion as you continue to dance, and you gesture to him with your index finger to come closer. He nods slightly, walking over to you, his hands in his pockets. He took a step forward before swiftly moving around you, guiding your body with his hands as he spins you around the dance floor.

You gasped, your heart pounding in excitement. The music seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your breath and the beat of your heart. He held you close, his big hands resting on the fabric of your skirt, his chest pressed against your back. You could feel his hardening length pressed against your ass, and it made you want to moan with pleasure.

As if sensing your arousal, he slowed down the dance, moving you in a lazy circle on the dance floor. His hands traveled up your back, cupping your shoulders, before sliding down to your hips. He pulled you closer, grinding his hips against yours, his erection pressing harder against your ass. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more of his touch.

You were aware of the fact that he was just a stranger, but like Ava said, when did you care if you knew people or not? You let yourself enjoy the moment, and enjoy him. His hands traveled down to your hips, lifting you higher against his body. He pressed his lips against your ear, whispering, "You feel so good, so warm in my arms."

You shivered, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over you. The alcohol was beginning to make you feel light-headed but in a good way. You pressed your back harder against him, wanting more of his touch "Careful, princess, we're in a public place" he whispered, loosening his grip on you slightly. You felt the cool air brush against your skin as he pulled you away from his body, but you reached back, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you, as you hurried out of the dance floor.

You led him to a bathroom, grabbing the knob and twisting, just to realize that it was locked, he watched in amusement as you give the door an aggressive kick, sighing in frustration when it still doesn't open. "Hey, I got it," he says, crouching down and wrapping his arm around the space between the back of your knees and the small of your back, lifting you up in the air effortlessly. "Gotcha." He carries you to the end of the hallway where there's a small, unused office, its door slightly ajar. He kicks it open, revealing an empty room with a small desk and a few chairs. He carries you inside, setting you down next to the desk with a gentle thump.

You turn to face him, your hands grabbing the edge of the desk, and leaning back on it. "That's better," you pant, your breath hot. His eyes meet yours, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what do you want to do now?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, feeling a wave of desire wash over you. "I don't know... show me something I've never seen before," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the muffled music. His eyes flash with amusement and he leans in closer.

"you don't even know my name," he whispers back, his lips brushing against your ear. "hmm?" he asks, his warm breath tickling your skin. You inhale, feeling a shiver run down your spine. You tilt your head to the side, offering him better access to your neck.

"I don't care" You muttered as you closed your eyes, giving into the sensation of his breath on your skin. "Just show me something I've never seen before..." Your voice trailed off as you felt his fingers gently brush against your cheek, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear.

"that's crazy coming from someone who thinks Chris is an unmoanable name" Your eyes snapped open and met his. You quickly looked away feeling ashamed as you realized he had definitely seen the video.

"way to ruin the moment," you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing. He let out a chuckle, seeming to enjoy teasing you. "It's okay, sweetheart. I don't care about that either. You looked like you were having fun in your video, and that's all that matters." His hand traveled down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and turning your head so that you were looking at him again. "let's see how much will it take you to take back your opinion about my name..." He leaned in closer, his lips just millimeters from yours. "If you do, then I'll stop teasing you."

Your heart raced as you stared into his eyes. A part of you wanted to take back your words, to kiss him just to prove yourself wrong, but another part of you wanted to keep him teasing you, wanting more of his attention. You hesitated for a moment, feeling the anticipation build up inside you, before finally leaning in and pressing your lips against his. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You felt a thrill run through you as you explored his mouth, tasting the beer on his tongue and the hint of mint from his breath. He tasted so good, better than any of your past hookups. You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body start to respond to his touch, wanting more of it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed. "Well, I guess that answers that question," he said with a smirk. "You're so stubborn" He leaned in again, his lips pressing against yours, and you felt your body melt into his touch.

His hand slipped down your back, over the curve of your ass, and gripped your hip. You moaned into his kiss, feeling the heat between your legs spread throughout your entire body. He pulled you closer, grinding his hips against yours, and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against your leg. His other hand found its way under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your bare skin, making you shiver.

As he walked you backward, your back hit the wall with a soft thud. He didn't break the kiss, instead, he deepened it, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through your core.

One of his hands slid up your body, and grabbed your neck, pulling your head back. He pressed his knee on your clothed center, grinding against it roughly. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. He sucked gently on your skin, leaving a mark that stung pleasantly. "You're so fucking wet" he chuckled, his voice rough with desire. You moaned, arching your back against him. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice laced with entertainment. You shook your head frantically, feeling the heat between your legs growing more intense by the second.

He released your neck but didn't let go of your hip. His other hand found its way under your shirt, teasing your nipple through your bra. You gasped as he pinched it hard, rolling it between his fingers. "Fuck," you whined, squirming against him. He chuckled darkly and bit down on your neck. "Maybe I should just take you right here," he whispered, his words hot against your skin.

Before you could reply, he reached down and quickly slid down your panties, baring you to him. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your slick folds, feeling the cool air of the room against your exposed cunt. He placed his knee back between your legs, rubbing roughly against your swollen clit. His hands were now gripping your waist tightly as you rode his thigh, your hips moving in a desperate rhythm.

You arch your back, as he continues to tease you. His thigh is hot against your clit. You feel your muscles tense, your breath coming in short gasps as you edge closer and closer to your release. You close your eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands on your hips, guiding you on his thigh, and the way he looks at you like he can see every thought and feeling inside you.

You feel him kiss your neck, his lips trailing down your shoulder as he sucks gently on the skin. "Fuck, I want to feel you around me," he whispers, and with one swift motion, he stands, lifting you up with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness pressing against you, and the wetness between your legs spreading on his thigh. He carries you back over to the desk, setting you down gently on the surface with a thud. Your legs spread wide as he kneels between them, his hands on the desktop for support as he leans in, his lips just above your center.

You watch him as he looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. He parts your folds with his thumbs, revealing your swollen clit to him. His tongue flicks out, circling your sensitive nub before pressing against it in a long, slow lick. You arch your back, moaning loudly as he sucks on your clit, teasing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Your hips rise off the desk, seeking more contact with his mouth.

As you feel yourself getting closer, he stops, pulling his lips away from your center. You look up at him in confusion, breathless from the pleasure he's been giving you. "Please," you whisper, your voice shaky. He smirks, reaching down and rubbing your clit roughly with his thumb. "Please what?" he teases, his voice low and seductive. "Please make you come?"You nod frantically, your hips bucking against his hand.

"use your words" He demands, his gaze locked on yours as you struggle to form a sentence. You can't speak, your words tangled up in the pleasure flowing through your body. He watches you with dark, intense eyes, his thumb still rubbing your sensitive clit in small, slow circles.

You felt the pressure building inside you, your body tense and ready to release. You dig your nails into his shoulders, urging him to keep going, to help you get there. He chuckles, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me how you want it."

You gasp, your eyes flashing up to meet his as you try to catch your breath. "I want you to make me cum," you manage to choke out, the words barely audible even to your ears. "I want it so bad," you whine, your hips grinding against his hand. You're so close, that you can feel the heat rising up from your core. You arch your back, pressing your swollen clit harder against his thumb, desperate for release.

"What did we agree on though ?" He asked, teasingly slowing down his hand movement as he watched your face twist in frustration. You grit your teeth, his thumb still circling your clit. "I take..." you breathed out, your voice strained as you tried to focus. "...I take it back."

He smiled, his lips curling up into a wicked grin as he continued to tease you. "take what back, sweetheart ?" he whispered huskily, his thumb still moving in small circles. You gasped, as you tried to focus. "Your name," you managed to choke out between breaths. "it's moanable."

"oh yeah ?" he asked, a smirk curling his lips as he glanced up at you from where he knelt between your spread legs. "prove it" he challenged, his thumb still working on your clit in small, relentless circles. He leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your wet center as his lips parted, revealing his teeth. "Prove to me that it's moanable."

You inhaled, feeling your body tensing. His finger pressed harder against your clit, his thumb, and forefinger forming a perfect circle as he circled and pressed. You arched your back, your hips lifting off the desk as you moaned his name, your voice low and throaty. "Chris!." you panted, your words coming out in gasps.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked, his voice low and amused.

You moaned again, your hips moving faster against his hand as you felt the familiar tension building inside you. "That's it," he whispered, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your thigh. "Let it out for me"

You cried out, your body arching as you came. Your muscles clench and release in rapid succession, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as pleasure washes over you in waves. His thumb continues to circle your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body.

"Fuck, it feels so good," you pant, your head falling back against the desk. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Don't... don't stop," you whimper, your hips still moving helplessly against his hand.

He chuckles, his thumb continuing to circle your clit, his other hand moving to cup your hip, holding you in place. You whimper, arching your back as you feel the last tendrils of pleasure wash over you.

"I can't believe how submissive you are," he giggled, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I feel like I could make you cum just by thinking about it." He leans in closer, pressing a gentle kiss against your thigh.

You moan, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm. His hand moves to gently stroke your clit, teasing the sensitive skin as he asks, "Want more?"

You were about to answer, but a loud ring interrupted you. "Shit," Chris muttered as he reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. "It's my mom." He rolled his eyes and put the phone to his ear, shooting you a sheepish smile. "Hey mom, what's up?"

As he spoke to his mother, you took the opportunity to collect yourself, pushing the desk back and sitting up straight. Your heart was still racing, and your body felt warm and tingling all over. Chris glanced at you from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips.

When he finally hung up the phone, he let out a sigh. "Sorry about that," he said, shaking his head. "So, um... I have to go" he added, glancing at you with a sheepish grin. "But I had a really good time. You were great, and I can't wait to see you again."

You were a little disappointed, but you still smiled at him. "I had a great time too, Chris." He leans down, his face close to yours, and brushes a stray hair from your cheek. "Maybe next time, I'll make you cum even harder," he giggled, and before you can react, he's gone.

Chris walked into his room, The air in the room was thick with the scent of his cologne, and the bed was unmade, sheets twisted around the pillows. He quickly took off his clothes and walked over to his shower, turning on the water to warm it up. As he stepped in, he couldn't help but think about what had just happened with you. The memory of your body beneath him, your moans in his ear, the feel of your hands on his skin... it was all still fresh in his mind.

"Fuck" He groaned, as he reached between his legs, his hand finding his already hard cock. He began to stroke it slowly, imagining it was you who was touching him. He pictured your soft, warm lips wrapped around him, your tongue swirling around the head, your hands gripping his hips as you took him deeper.

He closed his eyes, letting out a moan, trying to focus on the feel of his skin under his fingertips, and the hot spray of the shower against his body. But it was impossible to ignore the images of you that flashed through his mind, making him even harder.

He remembered how you had looked earlier, sitting on that desk, your legs spread wide, your eyes meeting his as he approached. He could feel the heat between your legs even from across the room. it was driving him wild.

Chris gripped his cock tightly, his hips moving in time with his strokes as The memory of your moans filled the shower stall, echoing in his ears. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense with need.

He imagined sliding his cock between your legs, hearing the wetness as he penetrated you, feeling the tightness as he thrust deep inside.

His strokes grew faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared the brink. He pictured your hands gripping the desk, your head thrown back in euphoria, your loud moans filling the room. His hips bucked wildly, his body tensing as he felt the first, powerful wave of release wash over him.

Chris cried out, his voice muffled by the sound of running water, as he came hard, his cock throbbing in his hand. The hot spray of water pelted his skin, but he barely noticed as he rode out the waves of pleasure. When he finally regained his senses, he quickly cleaned himself up and stepped out of the shower.

He dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, his movements still a little unsteady. He layed down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to calm his racing heart. He couldn't help but wonder when he would see you again.

⤷taglist ☆@mattestrella@chrisfavoritepepsi@sunsetsturniolos@littlebookworm803@sturniozo@sturniolooooo@athaliahxoxo@rac00ns-are-c00l4@ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22@urmom2bitch@junnniiieee07@breeloveschris@b2cute@1horrormoviewhore1@mattswrld@urmom2bitch @andreea2992

372 notes · View notes

bussyslayer333 · 1 year

Text

Love me, Love me

summary: bob floyd and the trials and tribulations of loving you.

or, my contribution to @roosterforme ‘s #loveisintheairtgm fic playlist!!!

pairing: bob floyd x bartender!reader

word count: 3.0k

warnings: swearing, some suggestiveness, mentions of alcohol maybe??, idiots in love smh

Bob was staring at himself in the mirror feeling a lot like how he did before his first middle school dance. Touching up his hair so he could impress Missy Clark. Except now he wasn’t trying to impress Missy, he was trying to impress you.

It was simultaneously a hundred times better and a hundred times worse.

Better, because you didn’t have braces that would catch on his lip if you kissed. Worse because you were probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and somehow he managed to make a fool out of himself every time he saw you.

He was picking up Jake and Bradley tonight before heading to the Hard Deck. It was probably one of his short comings as a man who doesn’t drink; he was destined to be the designated driver.

When Jake slid into the passenger seat he looked to Bob, looked away for a moment, then stared straight back at him.

“What?”

“Is that a new shirt?” Jake questions, mildly intense.

“Errr, yes?”

“Why do you look so nice?” Jake pesters, reaching a hand out to poke at Bob’s neatly styled hair.

Bob shrugs his hand away with a huff, “Um it’s a new year’s resolution, y’know look good feel good thing.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, before leaning in to sniff at Bob.

“You’re wearing new cologne.” Jake states, “why?”

Bob is starting to get slightly antsy, worried for the inevitable teasing that would occur once Jake found out about his infatuation crush on you.

“Well, Jake, the thing is…”

Jake leans in.

“I’m in love with you! I’ve been trying to impress you for months! …yeah.” Bob finishes lamely.

Jake laughs. Loud.

For a moment, Bob is offended that the idea of him being in love with someone is so amusing. Then he remembers the fact that for some reason he has just professed a fake love to the most obnoxious man on planet earth.

“Bobby, man you crack me up.” Jake chortles, wiping at the few tears that had slipped from his lash line.

Bob sighs as he comes to a slow in front of Bradley’s house, too caught up in his thoughts to stop Jake from hitting the horn to alert Bradley of their presence.

Bradley emerges from his house, hawaiian shirt on and an effortlessly handsome smile plastered across his face. Bob realises that if he was going to fake confess again Bradley would be a much more believable candidate.

“Hey boys,” Bradley smiles, sliding into the seat behind Bob.

He pats Bob on the shoulder far too hard without realising, and smacks Jake on the back with the same strength. Jake doesn’t shudder down on impact like Bob.

Jake allows Bob a second to breathe before he starts his pestering again, albeit more slyly.

“Rooster.” He starts

“Bagman.”

“Very funny.”

“I try my best.” Bradley chuckles.

Jake rolls his eyes and continues, “any guesses for why our dear Bobby is so dressed up for our Friday night drinks?”

Bob goes to protest, but Jake shushes him promptly.

“and don’t confess your undying love for Rooster because I will know you’re lying.”

Bradley cocks his head in confusion, before getting to his point.

“The bartender, obviously.” Bradley laughs.

Jake raises his eyebrows and makes a loud “ooooooohoooo” noise at Bob.

“You’re nailing her Bob? Nice.” Jake slaps Bob on his still recovering shoulder.

“No! I’m not!” Bob speaks a little defensively.

Bob had grown to like Jake over their time spent working together. However, his crudeness towards subjects such as this still made him cringe.

“But you would like to…?” Bradley supplies unhelpfully.

“I mean, yes, but also I want to take her out. On a date. With me.” Bob sighs.

If he thought too hard about what it would be like to have you in his bed, he would probably be sporting a hard on in the car with two of his best friends. It wouldn’t be the ideal way to start his Friday night.

“You should ask her out,” Jake smiles nonchalantly.

“Yeah! Tonight,” Bradley adds on.

Bob can’t help but laugh dryly at his friends optimism, because of course they would think it’s that easy.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he sighs out, pulling onto the road that leads to the Hard Deck.

“Sure it is!” Bradley delivers another encouraging painful slap to Bob’s shoulder.

Bob sighs dejectedly, clearly Bradley did not understand what he was trying to get at. He lets Bradley and Jake get out of the car before giving himself a mini pep talk in his rear view mirror.

“You’ve got this, Bobby,” he affirms.

BANG BANG.

Bob jumps out of his skin.

Jake’s face is smushed against the window, “you coming?”

“I can see up your nostrils.”

“Lucky you,” Jake snorts, finally pulling back so Bob can get out.

You’re the first thing Bob sees when he enters the bar; giggling at something a patron said as you pour a pint of whatever IPA Penny has on draft at the moment. Your hair is pulled back loosely and the light summer dress you’re wearing has Bob wondering if he needs to wipe at the drool forming at the corners of his lips.

He beelines for you, ignoring the shouts of greeting coming from his group of aviators already congregating around the pool table, and when you look up and meet his eyes, Bob could swear your smile widened.

“Hey Bob! Don’t you look smart!” You smile, radiant as ever.

Bob tries to ignore the heat that floods his cheeks and bites his lip to refrain from smiling too hard.

“Darlin’, thank you, but you… you look stunning,” he charms, probably overeager but you seem to have that affect on him.

Your nose scrunches in the way that it always does when you’re bashful of a compliment, it’s adorable but the idea makes Bob frown sometimes, makes him wonder if you know how beautiful you really are.

“I, I mean- this old thing?” You shrug down at your dress.

Bob can tell you’re being modest. You don’t need to be.

“Can I get you a drink?” You offer, steering the conversation from yourself.

It’s now or never that Bob realises he needs to make his move. He pinches his thigh through his trousers and finally pipes up.

“I, um, actually had a question that I wanted to ask? If that’s okay?”

“Yeah, shoot!” You nod.

“I wanted to ask this really incredible girl out, and I was just wondering, well, what you think she’d say?”

“I think she’d be a fool to say no,” you say with conviction.

Bob’s confidence seems to skyrocket after your confirmation. He nods and tries to conceal the smile threatening to split his cheeks in half.

“Good to know.”

As he walks off, Bob lightly pumps his fist in victory. You can’t help but giggle at the sight, hoping that whoever he was asking out would say yes. It would, however, be a lie to say you weren’t disappointed he wasn’t asking you.

Bob spends the rest of the weekend thinking about where he should take you out. He doesn’t want to come off too eager, so figured he should wait until Monday to see you again. He’s not sure when your next shift is, but figures if he swings by the Hard Deck after work he could probably catch you and ask whether your prefer Italian or Mexican.

When he gets to the Hard Deck at just gone 6 the bar is relatively empty, not much of a Monday evening crowd apparently. Bob ummed and ahhhed over the idea of bringing you flowers. In the end he settled on some pale pink roses, hoping they’d please you.

Penny is manning the desolate bar when he finally makes his way to the bar top. She smiles at him, albeit slightly confused at his lack of company and addition of flora in tow.

He says your name tentatively, “is she here?”

Penny frowns, “She just left about half an hour ago, said she had a date?”

Bob’s stomach drops. “Oh.”

“Was there a message you wanted me to pass on?” Penny smiles apologetically.

“No, um, don’t worry about it. Thanks Pen,” Bob nods curtly, spinning on his heel.

The flowers feel out of place in his clammy palm now, a dead weight dragging his right arm down. He still places then gently down on the passenger seat when he enters his car.

Bob leans his head on the steering wheel, not caring about the way the metal frames of his glasses are pushing painfully into the flushed skin of his cheeks.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

Bob drives back to his apartment with a furrow etched onto his brow, wondering if he hadn’t been clear enough that he was interested in you. His first thought is to ring Phoenix, you and her were close and regularly went out together. She picks up after the first ring.

“I’ve fucked up.” Bob sighs.

“Well hello to you too,” Nat snorts, Bob can hear the crinkle and crunch of what sounds like a bag of chips.

“Care to elaborate?” She questions.

He speaks your name as a whisper, “is she on a date right now?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Nat exclaims in understanding, “you’re an idiot.”

“I know!” Bob groans, at the reminder.

“She really likes you! But now she thinks you’ve got some secret crush!”

Bob is elated at the idea of you returning his feelings. Not so much at the idea of his failed attempt at asking you on a date being so stupid that it put you off.

“Ughhh, this is really embarrassing Nat.” Bob grumbles.

He can hear Nat snickering on the other end of the phone.

“Just tell her you like her, Dumbo.” She crunches down on another chip.

“Thank you that is really helpful actually.” Bob spits sarcastically.

Bob can hear Nat shuffle around before she starts up again, “look, for some reason she’s enamoured by everything you do. Like she’ll text me about how cute you looked in your glasses or how she liked your patterned shirt.”

She snorts, “it’s kind of disgusting but also heartwarming, I don’t know, what I’m trying to say is you just need to be yourself. That’s why she likes you.”

Bob is silent for a beat, “…she liked my shirt?”

“I’m hanging up now-”

“Thank you, Nat!” Bob quickly shouts down the line before she ends the call with a chortle.

Praying on the downfall of someone’s date is somewhat cruel. But Bob couldn’t really find it in him to care. Not when you look so sweet in one of your sundresses, stood at the bar wiping down the continually sticky counter tops.

It’s busy for an early Thursday evening, and Bob has once again bypassed his friends to beeline for you. Refreshed flowers in his hand, Bob was going to tell you how he felt. No beating around it this time.

“Oh! Hey Bob,” you drawl, slight flush to your cheeks at the sight of him.

“Hey beautiful, these,” he hands over the delicate bouquet, “are for you.”

You take them from him, inspecting the pinks and whites of the variety of flowers wrapped up in tissue paper.

“Wow, thank you! I- well no one has ever bought me flowers before!” You gush, fiddling with the ribbon at the bottom of the bouquet.

“They’re kind of an apology actually,” Bob smiles.

“Oh?” You prompt.

“Last Friday, I asked you that question?”

You nod in remembrance.

“Well, I was trying to ask you out. On a date that is, but clearly I went about it the wrong way, and if you’re not interested that’s okay! Of course, I just wanted you to know-”

Bob’s rambling is interrupted by the touch of your lips to his. His eyes widen in surprise before he leans in fully to your touch, hand coming to caress at your cheek. You pull back all too soon for Bob, who tries to chase after your lips.

“I want to.” You whisper against his lips.

“Huh?” Bob mumbles, slightly dazed from your kiss.

You giggle and pull back to look into his eyes fully, “Go on a date with you Bobby. I would love to.”

Bob grins, “Really?”

“Totally.”

Bob arrives outside your apartment at exactly the time he said he would. He’s dressed in a stripe button down and cream shorts. He looks handsome, annoyingly so and greets you with a kiss on the cheek. Ever the gentleman.

“We’ve already kissed,” you tease, smashing your lips against his in a greeting.

Bob reciprocates almost immediately, making a noise of approval as your tongue flicks against his. He pulls back breathless,

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s okay,” you take his hand and thread your fingers through his.

You swing your hands gently whilst you listen to him talk, “I was thinking we could walk down to the beach?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The breeze is light, heat from the late afternoon still clinging to the air as you walk along worn concrete. Bob’s hand stays intertwined with yours and he nods along to all of your ramblings, somehow still interested even after your seemingly endless anecdotes.

“I’m probably boring you,” you smile apologetically.

Bob shakes his head with a laugh, “darlin’ I could listen to you talk about my taxes and be absolutely enthralled.”

You try to fight off your furious blush by smushing your face into his surprisingly muscular arm. Bob rolls his eyes and takes your face in his hands.

“I mean it.”

Bob initiates the kiss this time, slowly guiding your face towards his. It’s only quick, as your still surrounded by couples walking, but it leaves you reeling anyways.

The sun is setting by the time you make it to the beach, and you have a sneaky feeling Bob has timed your date to match it. You don’t ask, the idea alone is almost too much.

He lets you chatter on as you walk further and further down the beach, only stopping to ask questions to further your stories.

“I wanted to ask you something,”

“Sure,” you hum.

“Did you go on a date with another guy this week?” Bob hopes he doesn’t sound too accusatory (or jealous).

You nod shyly, “yeah, he kind of sucked though.”

“How come you went?” Bob inquires.

“I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t jealous of you going on a date with someone else.”

Bob chuckles, “even though you were the one I was asking out?”

You snort, “We’re stupid.”

“The stupidest.”

You both giggle for a moment at the absurdity of the situation before allowing the laughter to lull and finally take in the scenery. You hadn’t passed people for the past 10 minutes of your walk, reaching a more secluded area of the beach.

“Do you want to go in the water?” You ask slyly.

“I mean, I’m not very well prepared,” Bob gestures down to his outfit.

“Me either,” you shrug with a smirk, before lifting the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head.

You let it fall to the ground and bend down to take off your shoes, leaving them next to your dress. You snap back up with a smirk and let Bob take in the sight of you in your lacy underwear. He gulps visibly.

You wander towards the waves slowly, letting Bob take in the way your hips sway tantalisingly.

“You coming?” You call over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” Bob whispers to himself, “yeah, give me a minute!”

Bob shucks himself of his clothing in record time so he can join you in the water, which is rippling gently against your waist. It’s cool, but not overtly unpleasant. If anything it’s soothing his nerves.

You turn to face Bob when you can sense him behind you,

“wow,” you breathe out, drinking in his toned abdomen that had been exposed to you.

“I feel like I should be saying that,” Bob smiles down at you, allowing his hands to rest at your waist.

You roll your eyes and flick water at him playfully. Bob’s eyes darken teasingly and he splashes you back with a little more force.

“Bob!” You squeal as the cool water hits your chest.

You have no choice but to retaliate with an even larger splash of water. As soon as it hits Bob you take off, disturbing the peaceful ripples as you try to swim away from the now drenched Bob. He catches up to you with ease and lifts you into the air, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your arms come to hang around his neck and you rest your forehead against his, both breathing harshly against one another’s mouths. Your lips connect sloppily as Bob’s hands grip tight at your behind to keep you close to him. The light blue lace of your thong is now dark blue from the water, the fabric of the bra much the same. It clings to you almost sinfully, and when Bob pulls back to look at you he lets out a deep, guttural groan.

“Look at you, darlin’.”

You flush at his words, accent heavy now it’s tainted with lust. You flick water at him playfully once again, trying to distract from how overwhelmed he makes you feel.

Bob chuckles and readjusts you in his grip, one arm under you to support you and the other pushing back at the wet strands of hair framing your face.

“Is it crazy if I say I think I love you?” Bob whispers.

“Is it crazy if I say the same thing?” You reply.

a/n: HERE IT IS 🎺🎺🎺🎺 sorry for the wait everyone!!! please behold valentines bob, isn’t he the cutest idiot 😭😭

expect a lil jakey one shot next guys, then mayhaps ch4 of drive me wild hehehe

as always pls reblog, comment, or send me an ask and tell me what you think!!!

thank you for reading :)))

- honey <333

2K notes · View notes

sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Oh No, There’s Only One Bed

Bradley Bradshaw x reader 2k words summary: The hotel is all booked out and now you have to share a room with Bradley Bradshaw. Worse, you have to share a bed.

there’s not much plot in this. so like dont get your hopes up. im not happy with how it turned out

prequel to “Oh No, There's An Arm Around My Waist”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You couldn’t help yourself, already regretting the words once they’d left your mouth. The poor receptionist played no part in this - it wasn’t his fault. You weren’t usually this rude to hotel staff.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re all booked out for tonight. It’s a twin room or no room at all.”

“C’mon, we can make it work.”

You looked up at Bradley like he was out of his mind. And he even had the audacity to grin at you. “It’s just one night.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You couldn’t believe that he was actually supporting this dumb fucking idea. “We can’t share a room. We can’t share a bed, Bradshaw.”

He raised his eyebrows and you bit your lip, mentally roundhouse-kicking yourself in the face. Why did you have to be so obviously avoidant? Your fight-or-flight was kicking in at the mere proposal. It was too obvious. Were normal people as desperately opposed to the idea of sharing a bed with a friend? Probably not. So why the fuck were you?

Because maybe Bradley was not just a friend.

Because maybe you were totally in love with him. And because maybe you’d rather die than ever admit that and get rejected.

“I mean-” You scrambled for words, for a quick excuse that would make sense, that would save you from at least some of the embarrassment. “You know, like, we’re friends. Friends don’t share a bed.”

Welp, that did not work. Horrible miss. Dart stuck in the wall-kind of miss.

“I’ll build a pillow wall if that makes you feel better”, Bradley promised, failing to hide his amusement. You clenched your jaw.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

“There’s other hotels”, you tried, desperate to find a different solution.

“Yeah”, he nodded, almost too enthusiastically. “Sure. Because those aren’t booked out.”

Alright. So maybe he had a point.

The only options here were sleeping on the floor of a subway station in San Diego or sharing a bed with him. And the fact that you actually took two seconds debating whether getting chlamydia would be worth not having to sleep pressed up against Bradley’s (warm and very comfortable) chest in a clean bed told you enough about just how far you’d fallen for him already. You were in too deep. And after tonight, you’d be a goner.

But you really, really did not want to spend the night on the subway.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, turning back to the poor receptionist who looked like he’d rather be on the subway getting chlamydia himself than here and forcefully smiled at him. “We’ll take the room, thank you.”

...

The door swung open and you blindly reached for the light switch, flipping it on before trudging into the room with your suitcase in one hand and the keys in the other.

You parked the suitcase in some random corner, threw your jacket onto the tiny table and looked up only to see that Bradley had already claimed the left side of the bed, arms and legs spread out, eyes closed. There was a lump in your throat as you watched him breathe that should not have been there. Neither should the flutter in your tummy. Neither should the heat in your cheeks when he opened his eyes and caught you staring.

“This is like some fucked up scene straight out of a shitty rom-com”, you complained - the only thing you knew how to do so you wouldn’t drool. He looked way too attractive doing literally nothing. You were not okay with that. Especially now that you had to share the bed with him.

He tucked his hands behind his head (his biceps flexed ridiculously) and chuckled.

“You love rom-coms”, he reminded you.

“Yeah, but only good ones with actual plot and characters that have personality.”

(This was, in itself, an absolute and total lie and Bradley definitely knew that. He was right - you loved rom-coms. You loved all of them. Especially the shitty ones with no plot whatsoever except “Oh we’re two idiots in love”. But you’d thought it would be much more fun if life played out like that - you hadn’t thought it would be like this.)

“You’re a bad liar”, he laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

“Am not”, you protested. He hummed.

“You definitely are.”

Then he patted the other side of the bed again. “Stop pouting and get in.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, bending down to put your suitcase on the ground and undo the zipper.

“Gotta change first, Bradshaw. You can build that pillow wall while I’m in the bathroom.”

His chuckle followed you even as you closed the door behind you half a minute later and it took you longer than it should have to change into pajamas - shout out to your shaking hands - partly because you spent five minutes brushing your teeth, looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to calm your nerves by telling your reflection all kinds of reassurances. (”It’s just one night” and “If you stay on your side you won’t even know he’s there” and “You’ll both be asleep anyway”)

You almost had a heart attack when you left the bathroom again.

Because yes, Bradley was still in bed, and that in itself was stressful enough. But mainly because he’d kicked the covers to his feet and his pajamas, if one could call it that, consisted only of his briefs.

At least he had the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry”, he said, gesturing at himself. “I don’t have sleepwear with me. I usually sleep naked.”

Because of course he did. Of course Bradley fucking Bradshaw slept naked.

“Uh”, you managed, mind completely blank. You were very, very much aware of the fact that you should say something. You just did not have the mental capacity to come up with anything whatsoever.

There was a goddamn Adonis in your bed.

If you’d thought you weren’t wearing much before (because you really weren’t, you’d expected San Diego to be warm and had only packed a skimpy little nightgown) then Bradley was wearing literally nothing.

And, well, he kind of was wearing nothing.

Couldn’t he at least have kept the covers up? But no. You knew him. He was basically a live heating pad. He’d die if he pulled them up.

“Okay”, you eventually managed to croax out, forcing your feet to work, to carry you to the right side - your side - of the bed, to flick on the lamp on your bedside table and turn off the big one, all without thinking. “Yeah, no worries.”

“Good.” He nodded his head for what had to be the better part of ten full seconds. “Good.”

The silence felt awkward. You were just sitting on the edge of the bed and he was propped up on his elbows on his side, staring holes into the air, not saying anything. Eventually he cleared his throat.

“Wanna, like, sleep?”

“Oh, yeah.” You busied yourself with the covers so you wouldn’t have to look at him, carefully sliding underneath them. “Yeah, we probably should.”

Only the rustling of the sheets filled the room until you were finally lying flat on the mattress, head resting on the pillow, and then there was silence again and you wanted to scream. This was more uncomfortable than anything else had ever been with him. Usually it was easy and light and that was why you liked him so much, that was why the two of you had initially become friends at all, but this... this was so heavy. Like something looming over the two of you that neither was addressing, just staring at it, aware that it was there but not doing anything about it.

This time, you cleared your throat, reached for the bedside lamp and turned that off too. The room was dark without it. You could only make out his contours next to you, hear the sound of his breath.

“Good night then”, you whispered, listening as his sheets rustled as well as he lay back, turning onto his side so that he was facing you. For a moment you felt the urge to do the same, but before you could even think about moving you were already swatting the idea away with an imaginary broom and locking it out of your imaginary house. Like hell you were gonna face him. Nuh-uh. You’d rather take the subway and the chlamydia after all.

“Good night”, he said softly, adjusting his hands one final time before the quiet of the night enveloped the two of you.

You tried to even your breathing, to focus on anything but him so close to you. You needed to sleep and you needed to sleep quick. But your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast and so loud that you could hear it, your skin was burning up and you felt like you were about to lose it.

You managed about five minutes before you turned away from him, onto your side, in hopes that that would make it better.

It didn’t.

Five minutes after that, you tried lying on your stomach. Which, to nobody’s surprise, worked no better. It took almost fifteen minutes for you to find the courage to turn onto your right side, to turn so that you were facing him after all. He hadn’t moved an inch.

In fact, he hadn’t tried to sleep at all.

When you turned and caught sight of him (bare chest and messy hair and fuck) you almost screamed. His eyes were wide open, watching you, reflecting the little moonlight that was flooding through the windows.

“Jesus”, you whispered, pressing a hand to your chest as he grinned, his face mere inches from yours. “Bradley, you scared the hell out of me.”

He didn’t even react to that.

“Can’t sleep?”, he asked instead. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin when he spoke. You had to swallow.

“No”, you admitted. For a moment you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, maybe he’d fallen asleep, but then he moved his arms and you felt a shiver down your spine when his fingertips brushed over the exposed skin of your arms. He wrapped one arm around your waist, his palm resting on the small of your back, and pulled you closer to him. So close that your knees bumped into his thighs. So close that your hands bumped into his torso. So close that your nose bumped into his throat.

All of them were innocent touches: chaste, easy, light. His skin was barely grazing yours. But they were enough.

Enough to go crazy over. Enough to hold your breath for a good half minute.

“Relax”, he muttered, his other hand threading through your hair and holding you just as close as the one on your back.

You swallowed hard.

“Bradley”, you murmured, not knowing just yet what you were going to say. Maybe you would have pulled away. Or maybe you would have bit the bullet and, for once in your life, taken the chance - maybe you would’ve told him right then and there just what you felt for him. Because friends certainly didn’t do this.

“We’ll talk tomorrow”, he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and immediately silencing your inner monologue. “Tomorrow. Just sleep for now.”

#top gun #x reader #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

1K notes · View notes

cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 4: A Wedding of Presidential Proportions

You couldn't sleep when you got back to the White House. You were pacing the floor of your room, trying to fabricate a believable love story for you and Bradley.

You would say that you'd gotten close during his campaign, and he proposed the night he was elected. That would explain why he risked his life for you after the last debate and why you held the Bible and danced with him at the inauguration. That would be believable.

You also had to think of a wedding date. It would need to be soon. Now that the people knew, they would push for a wedding. You settled on October. That would give you two months to figure this out.

You'd have to tell your parents tomorrow because you knew they would have questions, but you couldn't tell them the truth.

You were furiously trying to write notes down when you realized you should probably check on Bradley. It was almost two in the morning. You hoped he was still awake.

You grabbed your robe and note cards before sneaking down the hallway. You knocked once on his door before it flew open.

"You can't sleep either?" He asked you. "No. But I've been productive. You say as you enter his room.

You spend the next twenty minutes going over the tale you have spun for the two of you. He sits silently and nods along as you pace back and forth across the carpet of his bedroom.

"So, does it sound believable?" You ask him once you finish. "It does. You've really put a lot of thought into this." He agrees with you.

"Now, for a wedding date, I was thinking October because by the time the story gets out, we will have been 'planning' one for a few months." You tell him.

"Do we really have to get married? I mean, William and Kate dated for ten years before tying the knot." Bradley points out. "Yes, but their engagement was about a year. Trust me, I've thought about dragging it out, but with the digital age we live in, it gives people too long of a chance to find out we are lying." You explain to him.

"Okay, so after we get married, how long until we can get divorced?" He asks you. You stop in your tracks. You hadn't even thought about that.

"Well—" you begin, "If we get divorced in less than two or so years, people are going to be extremely upset. It will look bad on you, and the tabloids will start fabricating stories of infidelity between us, and it would tank your chances at reelection and my chances of ever working again." You continue.

"But, if we get divorced after two years, that would be peak reelection campaign time, and again, people would be angry that their favorite first couple is breaking up and it would give your opponents fuel for a smeer campaign and probably tank your ratings and cause a scandal." You tell him. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my god." You breathe out. "What?" Bradley asks you as he sits up from his chair.

"The only way to prevent this whole thing from killing both of our careers is to stay together and get divorced after you get reelected or lose the 2028 election. It would be at least four years of marriage. Four years of a lie." You state.

You can feel the heat rising in your chest as the anxiety sets it. You being to pace faster around his room. Your eyes are wide with a far off look in them.

"Oh my god, we can't do this. We can't commit to this for FOUR YEARS Bradley. What was I thinking when I said that? I'll tell you what—I wasn't thinking. I didn't want the media to brand me as someone who slept her way to the top, but now I've sentenced both of us to a life of scrutiny in the public eye!" You shout at him.

"We can't do this. I was wrong about everything I said. I didn't have a plan, I wasn't thinking I just did, and now I've screwed everything up." Your voice starts to tremble. Your chest tightens, making it harder for you to breathe. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

Bradley can see the cracks in your armor starting to break. The facade that you wear so well is slipping. His heart breaks when he sees the first tears slip down your cheeks. He's never seen you cry before. Come to think of it, he's never seen you as anything other than put together. He's shocked to see you like this. Emotional, vulnerable, raw.

"Where's my phone? I have to call Jaycee. I have to have her publish a story saying that I was lying and that we aren't a couple." You choke out. Your hands are trembling as you try to unlock your phone, but it's no use. The device falls from your fingers and crashes to the carpet.

That's all that it takes for you to fall to your knees and sob. Rooster immediately jumps from his seat and pulls you close to him. You're babbling about how you're sorry to him and about how you can save his career by tanking your own.

It's killing him inside to see you like this. To know that he's the reason you're having a panic attack at three in the morning. He doesn't know how to respond. Normally, you're the one picking up the pieces for him. So he does the only thing his can think to do. He sinks down on the floor next to you and pulls you close to him. He tucks you under his chin and rubs your back to soothe you.

"Y/N. Y/N—please, take a breath. Look at me." Bradley tells you softly. He takes your chin and gently directs it to meet his eyes.

"Let's take a couple of deep breaths together. Come on, breathe with me. Breathe in—and breathe out." He directs you. He repeats this several more times until your breathing is back under control, and you aren't crying anymore.

"Okay, let's talk through this slowly. We have two options. We can get married, spend the four years together, and then get a quick and amicable divorce after the election. If we do that, we both have a good chance of being able to continue our political careers, right?" He looks to you for your approval. You nod your head.

"Or, you commit political suicide by saying what? You made up the whole thing because you didn't want the media slandering you?" He asks. "It seems like they would slander you even more if you said we lied." He tells you.

"I can tell them that I can onto you, I was harassing you. Trying to blackmail you or something. If I did that, it would save your image. I could never work in politics again, though. I'd have to leave D.C." You stutter out, the anxiety still not fully gone from your body.

The thought of you leaving made Bradley sick to his stomach. He couldn't let you give up your dream for him.

"No." He says. "I won't let you do that. I can't let you do that. I wouldn't be in this position of power if it wasn't for you. I can't do this without you. I need you." He tells you earnestly.

"We are already friends. We can do this. We'd only have to pretend for the cameras and in the public eye. Behind closed doors, it doesn't matter. We can fake it til we make it." He laughs.

"You sure?" You ask him. "Positive." He confirms. You nod your head and smile at him. He helps you up. You take a deep breath and feel some relief.

You pause for a beat, and Bradley can see the exact moment you put your mask back on. Gone is the vulnerability you'd just shared with him, and back was the bravado he'd seen you wear so well.

"You know you'll have to make sure any hookup you bring here signs and NDA, right?" You ask him.

"Come again?" He blurts out with a look of confusion. The sudden change in your demeanor has his head spinning.

"Look, Bradley, even if we have to be married for a bit, I don't expect you to be celibate the entire time. You won't be the first president to have a mistress, but you'll be the first with permission. You snicker at the last part.

"I mean I'll do the same." You reassure him.

Bradley is too stunned to speak. The idea of either of you having a lover made his heart ache. He couldn't stomach the thought of another man touching you or getting to see the side of you that you kept closed off from him.

"Yeah, I understand." He hesitated. The silence around the two of you was uncomfortable.

"Right. So, I'm going to call a jeweler in the morning so we can pick out a ring and make sure you memorize these cards." You tell him as you hand him some flash cards, breaking the tension.

"I have the ring covered." Bradley tells you. "What?" You ask him. Unsure if you heard him correctly. "I have the ring covered. I'll memorize the cards. For now, we both need to get some sleep." He rubs your arms in a reassuring way.

"Okay. You're right. Goodnight, Bradley." You tell him as you leave his room. "Goodnight, Mrs. Bradshaw" He calls down the hallway after you. You roll your eyes and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

The next day around lunch, Jake storms into your room. "Wise-woman! Girl, what the fuck?!" He asks you.

"Jake, I don't have time for this. I was in a life or death situation. It was either fake engagement or political ruin. I did what I had to do." You explain to him. "I know, I know. Rooster already gave me the same speech. So you're really going to do this interview. Get married and all that jazz?" Jake asks as he comes to sit with you.

He flops down on the couch in your sitting room while absent-mindedly tossing a baseball in the air.

"Yeah, it's not ideal, but it keeps all of us employed. Well, let me rephrase that. It keeps you and Bradley employed. Meanwhile, I get to be paraded around as a piece of arm candy, and the only thing people are going to care about is what time wearing." You sigh.

"You know there are way worse things than being the First Lady of the United States. You think that no one is going to care about what you have to say, but Bradley will. He values your opinion more than any of his advisors. And you could have a serious social impact. Doesn't every First Lady have a platform that she focuses on during her time? Think of the change you could make. The good you could do in the world." Jake tells you. You hadn't really thought about it that way.

"Plus, do you know how many women in America would gladly take your place? I do, because I've seen the tweets and the tiktoks. Marrying Bradley isn't the prison sentence you're making it out to be." Jake finishes his pep talk to you before silently tossing his ball some more.

You sit there, taking in his words and processing them.

Neither of you is sure what to say until Jake speaks again. "So, on another note, your friend at the Post who's interviewing you—is she single by chance?" Jake asks you.

You laugh at his comment. Of course, he would ask you about Jaycee when you're having a crisis moment.

"Jake! You're such an asshole!" You laugh as you throw a pillow from the couch at him.

"Knock knock." Bradley comes in. "And that's my cue to go." Jake says as he gets up to leave.

Bradley comes and sits down next to you. He puts a small box on the table in front of you. "Go on. Open it." He tells you.

You open it, and your breath catches in your throat. Inside is the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. It's an oval cut diamond, easily five karats or better. It's flanked by two pear cut amethysts and set on a silver band.

"Bradley how—" you ask him. "Called in a favor." He tells you. You stare at it a moment before he takes it out of the box and slips it on your hand. "Size eight. Just like you said." He smiles at you. "Oval because of the Oval Office, right?" You joke with him. "Exactly." He breathes out.

"So, are you ready for this interview?" You ask him. "If I'm being honest, no. But I know that just like everything else, we can get through it together." Bradley kisses your cheek and pats your leg before getting up to leave. The skin where his lips touched buzzes with a familiar feeling that you're desperately trying to push back down.

Thanks to your careful planning, you made it through the interview with Jaycee. By the time you and Bradley arrived back to the White House, you were trending on social media, and #Wiseshaw was going viral. You had succeeded in pacifying the nation for a while.

Now, the real challenge began: planning a wedding.

..................

"Does it really matter so much about the flowers!" You groaned into the sofa cushion. The wedding was a week away, and instead, if sitting in on interviews for who was going to take over your position once you became the First Lady, you were with Jake and Jaycee picking out center pieces.

You had hated all of the aspects of planning the wedding. You hated them because over the past two months, you'd found yourself unable to deny the fact that you had feelings for Bradley. He truly was the man of your dreams, but the only reason you were able to have him was because of a lie.

Magazines, news outlets, and social media called you the perfect political power couple. The people ate up the engagement shoot you'd released, and the buzz of your upcoming nuptials was all anyone could talk about. People were rabid wondering what your dress was going to look like, who would be on the guest list, and most importantly, people wondered how long it would be until the two of you had children.

Of course, there was speculation that you were already pregnant due to how fast you were getting married from the time you announced your engagement. If only the people knew that your husband would never touch you like that.

You were broken from your thoughts by Jake.

"Yes, it really does matter, Wise- woman. You and the president are getting married. This is the closest thing America is ever going to get to a royal wedding." You looked at Jaycee and rolled your eyes because you knew Jake was right. This would be the first time a president had gotten married in office in over a hundred years. In the minds of many, this was a royal wedding. The two of you were the American Will and Kate.

"Jakey is just trying to be helpful as the best man and all." Jaycee tells you as she gets up to wrap her arms around him.

"If you two could keep it in your pants while I'm here, I would appreciate it." You tell them. You shuttered at the memory of finding out they were seeing each other. You had gone to Jake's office to ask him to sign off on some things, and instead, you found him and Jaycee, using his desk for purposes that it was not intended for.

"Oh c'mon, don't be such a grumpy gills. You'll be getting your taste of a man in power soon enough." Jaycee laughs.

"No, I will not. This marriage is a business arrangement. I'm not going to sleep with Bradley. I'm not even going to move out of my room." You tell them. You get up to leave as Jake and Jaycee shoot each other a knowing look.

.......................

Saturday comes quicker than you expected. All morning, people are fussing over you and helping you get ready. Jaycee is doing her best to keep you calm. You aren't nervous because you are getting married. You're nervous because your life is about to change.

You wonder if Bradley has the same knots in his stomach or if he is calm and collected.

The funny thing is, as he's getting ready, Bradley wonders the same thing about you.

He's paced around his room about five hundred times since he woke up this morning. You had no clue that Jake and Bradley's godfather Maverick had been trying to keep him calm.

He knows it's just about time, and his hands shake as he tries to tie his bow tie. You always make it look so easy. He growls in frustration before Maverick takes over. "The last time I saw a Bradshaw, this nervous was when Goose was getting ready to marry your mom. He was awful with ties, too." Maverick smiles at him, trying ease the tension. "They'd be so proud of you, kid." Maverick smiles as he smooths out Bradley's collar.

Soon, the wedding coordinator is coming to get them. It was time.

The wedding is to be held in the Rose Garden with a reception to follow in the banquet room of the White House. Everything is perfect. The chairs, the flowers, the table settings, the center pieces, the decor. All of it is fit for a wedding of presidential proportions. You'd spent two months going over seating charts, menu options, and cake flavors. Every time you asked Bradley what he wanted, he always responded with, "Whatever you want dear." You roll your eyes at the memory. Of course, he would be better in a fake relationship than any of your previous real ones.

As you put the finishing touches on your makeup, the thought of running crosses your mind.

You don't have time to ponder it though. It's almost show time. Your mother and Jaycee help you into your dress. It's a soft taffeta ball gown with ruching on the bodice. Its sleeves are slightly off the shoulder, and it has a jeweled belt at the waist. You could describe your dress best as "a modern take on Jackie Kennedy." Your mother helped you secure your cathedral length veil in your hair. She brushed a few stray hairs from your face before making sure your oval pendant was centered on your neck. Jaycee handed you your bouquet of lavender roses before grabbing the train of your dress and veil to help you out of your room.

Your father smiled when he saw you. Both of your parents were so proud of you. Their daughter was about to be the First Lady.

You took a deep breath as you walked out of french doors to the top of the staircase.

Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest as your feet carried you down the steps. It felt like you were in autopilot.

The violin quartet began to play "august" as Maverick walked down the aisle, holding framed photos of his parents before sitting them in two reserved seats. Jake followed him with your mother before coming back. Several of his former Navy friends escorted your bridesmaids down the aisle. Then, Jaycee and Jake made their way down the aisle. As the song looped, you could help think about the irony of it all. The man that you were about to marry would never be yours, not really.

Soon, it was your turn. You smiled as you heard the first bars of "Wildest Dreams" start to play. If it was one thing Bradley knew about you, it was how much you loved Taylor Swift. It only seemed fitting that he would pick two of her songs for your wedding.

Damn him and his ability to give you butterflies. It wasn't fair.

Everything moved in slow motion. The walk down the stair case and down the aisle felt like the longest ten minutes of your life. You did your best to look the part of the perfect blushing bride, but it was so hard.

Looking out at the perfectly place chairs with their perfectly draped cloth covers and perfectly tied lavender bows made you feel sick.

The sight of the wooden pergola draped in in greens and tulle made your knees weak. The meticulous rolled out white cloth that was covered in dainty lavender flower petals for the aisle had the bile in your stomach rising to your throat.

Everything was so perfect. Or at least it would have been if this was real. Your father could feel you tense up as you reached the bottom of the stair case and turned to stand at the end of the aisle. He patted your hand to comfort you. Everyone rose up from their seats, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to look up and look at Bradley. He was standing at the top of the aisle beaming at you. Suddenly, all of the anxiety you were feeling melted away. A genuine smile crossed your face as you began to almost float towards him.

You watched him brush a few stray tears from his eyes.

Your eyes stayed trained on Bradley the whole time. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was actually in love with you.

"You look beautiful." He whispered to you as you joined him at the altar. "Your tie's crooked." You whisper back. "Sorry, I didn't have help." He chuckled before the officiant asked everyone to be seated.

The ceremony goes by in a flash. You and Bradley exchanged vows and rings. And soon you heard the officiant say, "Mr. President, you may kiss your bride."

You lean forward to press a polite kiss to Bradley's lips, but in an unexpected turn of events, he sweeps you into his arms and dips you before kissing you. Everyone erupts in applause. The officiant speaks once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you, for the first time, President and Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw!"

Bradley grabs your hand as Jaycee hands you your bouquet before you walk back down the aisle under a sea of flower petals.

During the entire reception, Bradley doesn't leave your side as the two of you mingle. You have your first dance as husband and wife to a slowed down version of "I've Had The Time of My Laugh. You grin at his nod to the first time you danced with him. After you finish, its time to cut the cake. You enjoyed smashing some of it in his face more than you should have. Your smile never leaves your face. You can't believe how easy it is to pretend to be in love with him.

But that's all it is, pretend. You've signed yourself up to continue this charade with him for the next four years.

After the reception, you change into a white lace tea length dress. You and Bradley board Air Force one. You have three days for a private honeymoon. Bradley releases his duties to Jake for the time being before you leave.

Soon, you're touching down somewhere tropical.

You're exhausted by the time you make it there.

The two of you get settled into your bungalow. All you want to do is change and get some sleep.

"Can you unzip me? I want to take a shower. There's two bathrooms here if you want to shower too." You inform Bradley. He's happy to help. He unzips your dress. He sees the white lace of the bra and panties you are wearing.

"Thanks." You tell him before trapsing off to a shower.

Bradley groans and adjusts himself before heading off to the other bathroom. God, his right hand is going to be tired after this trip.

After an hour in the bathroom, you finally come out. You find Bradley sitting in a chair watching TV.

"You aren't in bed yet?" You question him.

"I wasn't sure which side you slept on, and I didn't want to assume." He says as he gets up and gestures to the huge bed in the middle of the room.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm not sleeping in here." You laugh. He looks at you confused before you go to the other side of the room and on unlatch a door he hadn't noticed before.

"Did you really think I wouldn't plan a head to make sure we had two rooms?" You ask him.

"I—I shouldn't have doubted your abilities." He tells you, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"It's fine. Look, we've had a long day. We'll talk more in the morning." You smile and kiss his cheek before walking into your room. "Goodnight, Mr. President." You call to him.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Bradshaw." He calls back.

He hears the sound of the lock on the door clicking. He sighs before dropping back into the armchair. He runs his fingers through his hair before taking a look at the silver band that now adorns his finger. He twists it a few times and sighs.

How was he going to get through the next four years of this?

Little did he know that just on the other side of the door, you were dying inside too.

A special shoutout to @thedroneranger for beta reading this chapter and listening to my rambles!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #lt. bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm #tgm smut #top gun rooster #top gun smut #red white and rooster

597 notes · View notes

acewritesfics · 7 months

Text

Having Another Baby | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

⚠️ ALL FICS CURRENTLY ARE A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Request: From @rainydayteacups

Fic Type: Short Imagine. Fluff

Warnings: Daughter's name is Caroline. Pregnancy.

Word Count: 736

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

“Can I ask you a question, Daddy?” Caroline ponders as her father places the book he just finished reading her back on the shelf.

He tucks her into her bed and sits on the edge, “What do you want to know?”

“What is love at first sight?” she wonders.

Bradley’s eyes widen in surprise at his daughter’s question. He bites the inside of his cheek, attempting to come up with an explanation for the six-year-old. “It’s when you first see someone and fall in love right away. Not many people think it’s possible.”

She looks at him with great wonder and asks, “Do you think it can happen?

He gives her his honest opinion, saying, "I do, but I believe it’s a rare thing to happen.”

“Did it happen for you and mommy?”

“Love at first sight? Nah, it wasn’t. It took us a while to get there but when we did, I knew I couldn’t love anyone else the way I love your mother,” He smiles as he turns his head towards Caroline’s bedroom doorway and sees Y/N standing there. “But I’m sure it was love at first sight for your mommy.”

Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes, and enters the bedroom, moving to stand next to Bradley. “Your daddy had to do a lot of convincing for mommy to go on a date with him.”

“But when she did, she fell head over heels in love with me,” he continues as he looks up at his wife before returning his gaze to Caroline. “She couldn’t resist my charm.”

“What charm?” Caroline says, which causes her mother laugh and her father to look offended by her words.

“The same Bradshaw charm you used to get away with being naughty,” he teases as he tickles her. Caroline giggles while wriggling free of her father’s hands. “But the truth is,” he says as he stops tickling her, “it was love at first sight for me. I knew the moment I saw your mommy at Nanny Penny’s bar that she was the woman I wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with.”

“What about me?” Caroline wonders aloud.

He smiles and bends forward to kiss his daughter’s forehead, “I fell in love with you the moment I saw that little blob on the screen when you were still in mommy’s tummy. Now, go to sleep. We have big day tomorrow.”

“Can I ask you another question?” She talks quickly as he stands and drapes an arm over his wife’s shoulders.

He gestures with one finger, saying, “One more.”

She looks at her parents and says, with an innocent smile on her face, “Can I have a little brother or sister?”

“Well…” Bradley starts looking from Caroline to Y/N. “Mommy and I will talk about it and let you know what we decide on.”

Y/N nods in agreement with him before leaning down to kiss her head.

“Okay. Goodnight, Mommy and Daddy,” Caroline grins and turns onto her side, closing her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, angel,” Y/N says as she takes Bradley’s hand and leads him out of the bedroom, turning out the light on their way out.

Entering the living room, they settle down on the couch. Holding her tight with her back against his chest and his arms over her shoulders and her hands resting on his arms, tracing circles along his skin, Bradley says, “Maybe it’s time we gave her a baby brother and sister.”

“You think so?” she asks, biting her bottom lip, thinking about what it would be like with another baby.

“Yeah. She’s six now. If we want another kid, we probably shouldn’t wait too much longer.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we don’t have to,” she smiles, pulling away from his hold to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asks looking at her confused.

“That doctors appointment I had today, I found out we’re having another baby,” she grins unable to hide her excitement about the pregnancy.

“Are you serious?” he asks his confusion turning to one of surprise and excitement.

“Very serious,” she leans forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He kisses her back for a moment before the kiss, his hands moving to her belly. “I love you so much. All three of you. You, Caroline, and the baby.”

“We love you too,” she smiles as she moves onto his lap, kissing him again.

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE.

#acewritesfics repost #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun: maverick

225 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Bleed For This // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: It’s not Maverick that goes down in the Snowy Mountains, but you & Bradley Bradshaw. And someone doesn’t make it back.

Warnings: Character Death. F-18 crash. Bradley Bradshaw x best friend!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: Day Fourteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Bleeding through the bandage. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to end like this, with you standing over the freshly laid dirt that covered your best friend's coffin. It wasn't supposed to end like this, the two of you. Your entire life you had been told over and over that you and Bradley Bradshaw were meant for each other. That the two of you were two peas in a pod, the light of each other's lives, the solace in each other's discomforts. Each other’s person.

But yet here you were–standing over his freshly laid grave sight right next to the man who he strived every damn day to be every bit like. Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw and the woman whose heart was just as big as Bradleys, Carole Bradshaw. Bradley had always wanted to be every bit like his dad:

Now he was.

“I should probably get you home.” It was Jake's hand on the small of your back that drew you out of your own little make believe world, where Bradley was still alive and you couldn't feel his blood on your hands. “Come on Kerner, let's get you home.”

“Yeah–” You sighed in complete and utter defeat, it felt all too surreal to leave your best friend behind six feet under. “Do you think he's cold?” You asked softly as Jake led you away from Bradleys fresh grave sight. The two of you were the last to leave as grey storm clouds loomed overhead just waiting for the perfect moment to pour down. “He shouldn’t have come for me Jake, if he had just gone back to the carrier, he’d be alive.” You still had your arm in a sling, your collarbone had been busted in your ejection. Your arm had been burned to pieces. “I should have brought him a blanket, it’s gonna be so cold tonight.”

Jake couldn't begin to understand what it was like to lose someone you grew up with the way you and Bradley Bradshaw had. The two of you were the stuff of legend, the Nepotism duo, the lovers who were too blind, too stubborn, too focused on your careers to realise forever was standing right there.

“I think he’s happy to be with his parents again.” Jake replied as he walked with you slowly, arm slung over your shoulder. He felt it was his duty to keep an eye on you. Your dad had asked that of him and who was Jake to deny the wishes of Commander Kerner. “You know Rooster, he groomed that stupid moustache every morning just to be a little like his dad.” That made you laugh, for all the times you teased Bradley for his moustache, you never did mean it.

You were really going to miss that stupid moustache. Hell, you were really going to miss Rooster. You'd never stopped to think about a life without him earth side, and now you were living in it.

In a world without Bradley Bradshaw.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two Weeks Prior:

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. But from what you had tasted of desire you held with those who favour fire. But if you had to perish twice, you knew enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

The icy snow made your body shiver and shake. It stung like nothing you had ever experienced before. It made your entire body rigid, like tiny pins and needles were jabbing into every little part of you. But then there was a warmth completely unparalleled to the burn of the snow that you laid face first in. It was a burn so deep that it took your breath away as you pushed yourself up to your knees.

“Oh, oh fuck.” You hissed as your vision took a second to kick in. Amongst the blanket of china white snow that rivalled that of pure cut heroin, there were burning pieces of fuselage that flickered orange and red embers of fire every which way the wind chose to take them.

Then it hit you, you’d been hit by a surface to air missile after trying to save your best friend. Rooster didn't have enough time on his side nor the flares to back up his manoeuvres. So without thinking, without a second of hesitation, you covered him and ended up taking the hit. You’d die for him any day of the week.

“Shit–” Everything hurt as you took off your flight helmet. Your arm was completely burnt to the point your flight suit had melted right into your skin. You didn't know if it had been a flare or a part of your F-18 that was the culprit. But regardless of what had caused the burn, it fucking hurt.

As you looked around the snowy forest you never imagined that you’d see what you saw next. You thought for sure you were a goner when you’d been hit, that no one would come for you. No one would turn back for you, look for your fighter jet wreckage, look for you.

“Oh god no—“ You saw him flying across the open field, Rooster, your beloved Bradley, your best friend. He was looking for you. “No no no no no.” And in doing so had a S.A.M right on his tail. “Rooster no—“ And he was hit and hit hard all because he came back for you.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you ran towards where you’d see Bradley pull his chute. Your legs wanted to give in as your muscles threatened to tear right off the bone. Every step, every pain filled stride you took your heart threatened to explode inside your chest. But you wouldn’t stop running, not until you got to Rooster.

“Bradley!” You shouted when you saw him lying in a debris field of his own F-18, completely blown to smithereens. “Oh no, no no no no Rooster!” You had never run so fast and so hard and with such desperation before. It didn’t matter how much you hurt, you needed to get to your best friend, the love of your life.

Who the fuck chose the both of you for this mission? Why the fuck did it have to be you? Be him?

“Roo?” You cooed as you dropped to your knees beside him, the blood was oozing through his flight suit. He’d been hit pretty bad, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out just how bad this really was. “Oh god Rooster why?”

Bradley was looking at you with all the love in the world, those baby cow eyes, so deep and brown and full of tears, looked at you like you were the light of his life. Because you were. You really really were.

“Drifter—“ It was a play on your fathers callsign. Slider. It made sense, Goose and Rooster, Slider and Drifter. “Hi, hey—you’re okay?” The utter relief in Rooster's voice was evident the seconds his eyes scanned you up and down. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Hey.” You cooed as you let a shaky hand push the sweaty blonde locks away from Roosters forehead. “What are you doing down here Roo? You should be back on the carrier by now.” There was a pregnant pause between your question and Bradley’s answer as you watched blood pool at his lips. He was bleeding out and bleeding fast.

“I had to make sure you were okay.” He admitted as you tried to make a makeshift bandage with the leg of your flight suit. Ripping the material clean off your own body. “I couldn’t—“ The cough was bloody and deep and it made your heart sink, but you knew you could save him. You could save Rooster if you tried hard enough. If you committed every ounce of your life to it. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”

“Well you’re an idiot alright, you shouldn’t have come for me.” You sighed as you worked with what you had. “I’m sorry, this might hurt but I have to try and stop the bleeding alright.”

“AAAHHH!” Rooster couldn’t hold in his screams as you pressed your hands into his stomach. The blood seeped straight through the makeshift bandage right between your fingers. “Fuck!! It hurts!”

“Shhh, shhh it’s alright, I’ve got you.” You tried to soothe Bradley as you felt your tears welling in your eyes. “You’re fine, you’re fine, Rooster, I'm here.” Panic, pure panic was rising in your veins as adrenaline kept you from processing the fact your best friend was lying in the snowy field before you bleeding out through the bandages you had made. “You’re going to be okay, I just need you to focus and stay with me alright? You can do that for me can’t you Roo?”

Bradley didn’t answer you as you applied previously against his wounds. You didn’t give up though, not for a second.

“Bradshaw, I asked you a fucking question!”

“I’ve been in love—“ It was a staggered confession as blood trickled out of Rooster mouth. Bloodstained teeth had never looked so good on a person. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Kerner.” Bradley’s eyes never left you as he spoke. He couldn’t feel anything but the cold kiss of death. He saw the reaper over your shoulder coming for him. “You’re my best friend, I just—needed you to—to know that.”

“No.” You refused to believe this was happening as you watched Bradley’s blood seep between your fingers, staining your skin to the point where you knew no matter how much you tried to scrub them clean they wouldn’t ever be clean. “No, stop talking! You’re fine Rooster, please don’t leave me here.”

“I’ve always wanted to love you.” He kept speaking though, through the pain and the tears and the blood, Rooster kept telling you his deepest secrets. His biggest regret would always be not telling you sooner. His biggest regret would be never getting off his perch. “You’re gonna be alright—“

“For fuck sake Rooster you aren’t dying!” It was pure denial as you tried to stop him bleeding. You knew if you could get the bleeding to stop then you could save your best friend. “You can’t die, I don’t know how to live without you, you’re my person, so please, for the love of god just shut up and focus on staying alive.”

Rooster didn’t speak for a few minutes, all he did was breathe and try to keep his eyes open. He focused on you and your profile, how beautiful you truly were—even in a situation like this. He thought about what it would be like to marry you, watch you grow old like he had since he was three, what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with you. He hoped that whoever did get to be your person next would be able to handle you and all your fire. That they never tried to smother it. He hoped that they would at the very least, add some fuel to the fire that burned in your soul. He hoped that they’d take care of you and love you and let you know how much you bring to this life.

“Kiss me.” Bradley whispered just above something audible. “Kiss me, please Kerner.”

“Rooster?” It was at that moment you knew he was going. His face was all clammy and he was oh so cold to the touch.

“Please kiss me so I can go.” He begged you softly as he placed his hand on top of where your hands were covered in his blood over his stomach. “My dads here.”

“Well tell Goose you aren’t ready!” The tears that left your body were grief stricken. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. To mourn someone you loved so deeply, so fiercely and so much that to imagine a life without them it took a piece of you with them. “Tell him you can’t go because I need you here.” You cried as you leaned over to press your forehead to Bradley’s. “You don’t get to die, tell whoever’s here for you to fuck off—you’re not dying.”

“Just kiss me.” Was all Bradley cooed before you leaned in to press your lips against his. It wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. He was oh so pale and cold as the ice he laid bleeding out on. You felt his blood on your lips and god you’d never forget that feeling. Whatever had struck him had completely decimated his stomach. No amount of bandages could save him.

You never stood a chance they would later tell you. No amount of first aid could have saved Bradley Bradshaw.

“I love you, I love you.” It was like a mantra, Rooster kept saying it over and over until you heard him stop. That’s how you knew he was gone. Because the silence was far too loud and far too heartbreaking and the sound of his I love yous would haunt you forever.

“Damn you Bradshaw, I love you too.” You cried as you laid beside him, curled up against his body for what felt like eternity. When help arrived you refused to leave his side. And you didn’t until someone had you sedated on the carrier—

“I'm so sorry.” Jake sat in the medical bay watching over you as you slept. “I'm so sorry Kerner.” He spoke to himself as he thought about all the times Bradley had told him in drunken bar conversations how much he loved you, his best friend. “But he did what he did to make sure you got out, that you would be alright.”

“He left me.” You mumbled just loud enough for Jake to hear. He didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be, or so he thought. “He told me he loved me, and then he died.” You would have cried if you weren’t so dehydrated. “I lost my person. How do I recover from that?”

Jake didn’t know what to tell you, so he didn’t speak. He simply held back his own tears and kissed your forehead.

“I don’t know Drifter, I really don’t know.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Present

“We’re gonna head out for a drink, just you and me.” Jake explained as he pulled you in under his arm a little more. The two of you were both dressed in your formal wear. It wasn't exactly the attire for casual drinking.

“Oh, I can't Hangman.” You denied the proposal almost immediately. “I have to head home and sort out a bunch of Roosters belongings.” Jake understood, but he also knew you needed a friend before anything else right now. And what kind of friend would Jake Seresin be if he let the love of Bradley Bradshaw's life drown in her own inner turmoil?

“Yeah, but before you go do that, I think you need to whine about it some more to me first.” Jake knew that the last thing you wanted to do was to have to pack away your best friend's belongings knowing he’d never need them again. He guessed it was the downfall of sharing an apartment off base with the guy. “I'd be pretty pissed off too if Bradshaw left his crap lying around and I had to clean up after him, so, you definitely need a drink or two.”

You didn't reply straight away as you walked through the cemetery that now held three Bradshaws. But when you did, Jake's heart sank just a little more inside his chest for you.

“What are you afraid of?” You asked softly as you stopped and turned to face the man who hadnt left your side since you were brought back to the carrier. Completely distraught and shell shocked. “That I’m gonna–” Before you could even finish your sentence Jake interrupted.

“I'm afraid that you’re gonna keep crawling into my bed after busting into my apartment in the middle of the night.” That much was true, you had done that a handful of times. But to be fair, Jake never locked his door. He really needed to start doing that. “Look, Rooster left his Bronco to me.” Jake sighed as he looked up at the sky, watching as rain threatened to fall. “But he also left me you too.” He explained with a solemn smile. “It's just us now and I don't know, if you need someone to bitch to or just be–” It was your turn to interrupt.

“My person.”

“I don't know what you mean?” Jake sighed as he looked back over his shoulder up to where Bradley's grave lay. He swore he could see him, watching Jake as he tried his best to comfort the love Bradley left behind. The love he hoped Jake would cherish as much as he did.

“But you do.” You smiled softly before you pulled Jake in for a hug. You'd never see your best friend again in the land of the living, but you had a person in Jake Seresin. And he was determined to keep his promise to your dad, to watch over you always. He was going to be your person no matter what.

“I've got you Kerner.” Jake rubbed his hand up and down your back to soothe your cries. He could feel you crying in his arms. You'd been through a lot, lost a lot too. But you weren't about to lose Jake.

Not now, not ever. “I've got you.”

***~****~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw whump #tw: character death #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw

190 notes · View notes

pisupsala · 4 months

Text

Of All The Stars in The Sky | 19 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 8.8k

Library

Chapter 19 - It Had to Be You

“Do you feel… strange?” Emil phrases the question awkwardly. “Since the war, I mean.”

You pause and look up from the mushroom you had been inspecting before popping it out of the ground with your knife and placing it in the wicker basket on your arm. You nod.

Strange is a good word for it. You just don’t know if the world has become estranged or you.

It’s late autumn and still pleasantly warm. The sun is low, but your heavy white cable-knitted sweater is still a bit too warm. You haven’t spoken to Emil since you marched out of the hospital last June, so you were surprised when you received a letter from an estate in the northern mountains with an invitation to visit. It had your old address on it, but your downstairs neighbor forwarded it to you.

“I can’t be in the city anymore,” He admits with difficulty, eyes trained firmly on the forest path before you. His stance is casual, hands in pockets of his dark green pants, in stark contrast to his near-wavering tone. Emil left the army abruptly, and this is the closest he’s come to admit as to why. The tranquility of the forest and the smell of pine and moss are soothing. “It’s too… busy. Too many people, you know?”

“I understand,” You reply softly. Too many people, no oversight, and blocked escape paths. “I don’t feel like I really have a place anymore.”

“Yeah…”

Silence falls as you walk, looking around for more mushrooms. It’s only the two of you and the sounds of the forest.

“Are you still waiting?” He doesn’t elaborate. There is no need to. Your hand automatically moves to the pocket of your gray slacks. The metal of the bracelet is cool and familiar.

“I’m not sure if I’m waiting or just stuck,” You admit, smiling sadly. You should have given up by now.

For years, you thought everything was on hold temporarily, and you’d return to your life, classes, and books after the war. But you came to the realization you are not that person anymore. It’s a version of you that stayed behind on that dreary September day in 1939; you just didn’t realize until everything and everyone else returned. And now you’ve lost that; you no longer know where your place is. You’re not even really sure of who you are anymore.

The only time you were reminded of the person you once were, which made you believe that you still existed, was with Bradley. He so skillfully unwrapped you to the barest essentials. But when you go looking now, there’s nothing left – like it was only a fleeting illusion that existed between the two of you, a flash of a chemical reaction before it all went up in smoke.

It’s like you’re in stasis. Again.

“Do you still hope?” There is no bitterness or accusation in the question.

“Hope?” You croak out. Of course, you still hope. It’s just becoming harder to believe by the day. The world has changed, and Bradley has probably changed with it. You don’t think you could blame him—not really. Not after what you’ve become. You blink rapidly a few times. “It mostly hurts.”

It’s a more honest admission than you would typically make. But who else could yet tell?

“I’m sorry,” Emil mumbles, aimlessly kicking a pine cone down the small path.

“Times have changed. For the better, I might add,” You shake your head with a chuckle as you move your wicker basket to your right hand, balling your left hand in a fist, trying to stop it from shaking. “And people changed with it. That’s okay.”

You slow down your pace, looking at Emil. “It has to be, you know?” You say urgently like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“I suppose we both got left behind in more ways than one,” He sighs before meeting your gaze. “I always believed you, of all people, were destined for more, Anya.”

“Maybe some version of me was,” You chuckle dryly, playfully bumping him with your elbow, holding out the basket to him. Emil takes it without argument. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough adventure for a lifetime?”

He laughs, a small, genuine laugh. Finally, you’re unsure if you can forgive Emil for planting those seeds of doubt in your head about Bradley. Maybe one day you’ll be grateful. Perhaps you never fully believed what Bradley told you, and you’re mad at Emil for voicing what you had been too afraid to confront. But whatever he said, whatever you sniped in return — he’s still your friend. Brother in arms.

“You’d be content with just being a housekeeper?” He asks, almost incredulously. Just a few years ago, you would have been offended by the question—because of course not. You were going to travel the world and become a diplomat, a writer, an explorer. Now, you only count the steps from your home to the tram stop.

“Are you content with just being a gamekeeper?” You counter without malice. Emil doesn’t react. “Maybe we both deserve some peace, in whichever form.”

“I hope you find your peace, Anya.” Emil looks at you sadly. “You more than anyone.”

Peace.

The city is cleaned up quickly, but the splatter of blood, the agonizing screams, and the explosions have become indelible in your mind's eye. It’s like a ghostly shadow wrapping around the bustling city. Maybe Emil could see it, too. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t stay.

Was the city like this before the war? Were you part of that crowd? Why can’t you go back?

You’re moving through life without purpose, just getting by. It’s enough.

Right?

You live a quiet, frugal life. You dutifully add to your monthly savings, but it’s a slow undertaking. Your salary is okay, all things considered, but traveling to the United States is expensive — and you’d need to get to a port city first. And that’s just travel. You need money for hotels, food, and a visa — it makes your head spin when you think about it. It’s that sliver of a dream that keeps you going. So you just keep your head down.

You don’t question Mrs. Parker’s particular requests; even though you figured out pretty quickly, she puts a lot of stock in seeing hard work and effort over results. You don’t question why Mrs. Parker appears craftier than her husband, the ambassador. You especially don’t question why the ambassador and his wife sleep in separate rooms. You clean them all the same.

And then there is Loretta. Beautiful, young Miss Lo. She came with silken blonde curls, bright green eyes, and trunks of dresses from exquisite fabrics on a gap year. You don’t question that she seems more interested in parties, men, and dancing than anything else. But you recognize the insatiable hunger recognition: being great at your work. And Miss Lo is excellent at being fun, young, and beautiful. And not a single man in the long parade of officers and dignitaries visiting would disagree.

Deep inside, you know you don’t question it because if you did, you’d have to see the lingering envy in you for what it is. So you just keep your head down.

Almost a year passes. You��ve hemmed and re-hemmed more dressed than you count, scrubbed more stains from delicate fabrics than you care to identify, sweeping piles upon piles of ashes from the marble floors.

If anything, you are an excellent seamstress now, especially considering how awful you were at most handwork, like knitting. Miss Lo caused you plenty of practice, and your roommates were gratefully making use of your offer to mend and tailor what they needed. But you’ve had enough of your dresses that needed tailoring — raising necklines, adding collars, and sometimes even adding new sleeves. Anything that would keep prying away from the scarred skin that your ever-longer hair could not hide.

You’re in stasis.

It’s May again. It’s a year since the war has ended, and it’s a beautiful day — warm, with a gentle breeze swaying the blooming trees. In a few days, you turn 27, although you’ve not celebrated your birthday… well, since Eva last baked you a small cake. That’s four years ago now.

It still hurts. It’s like every memory is now overgrown with thorns, the edges irreparably singed by the fire. Eva. Your parents. Bradley. It still hurts, and it will probably never stop hurting. Like your shoulder aches and hand shakes after a long day after a long day of work. Like your head is always buzzing, the ceaseless noise in your ear painfully keeps you awake. You long for the morning you wake up and finally accept that this is it. None of them are coming back. You will never be whole again. When waves finally wash you away, and you’ll see them again. Like in that dream, on that beach, when for a moment nothing hurt.

Standing at the back of the tram, a bucket full of beautifully arranged bouquets wedged between your foot and the wall, you are entirely focused on the leather-bound booklet in your hand, tapping the back of the small pencil against your lips. You try to scratch the itch in your brain by doing crossword puzzles. Your dad bought you all those newspapers, after all.

Maybe you’ll even get good at doing crosswords, finally.

You don’t need to pay attention to where you are going; you’ve taken this route hundreds of times. You know where you are just by a glance from the corner of your eye. You recognize the shape of the buildings, the way that the sun hits the street, the gait of the tall figure walking out of the train station -

You swing your head around so hard your forehead rams into the window with a dull crack. You see stars for a moment, colors melting into each other in strange shapes. When your vision returns, the tram has already turned a corner. Ignoring the stares around you, your hand flies into your pocket, dropping your pencil. It rolls away between the legs of the other passengers, but you pay it no mind. You are trying to catch your breath. The metal loops around your fingers, but it scarcely brings you comfort.

Your bored brain must be hallucinating; the cruel sun must be playing tricks on you; your poor heart must be dreaming.

Because of the tiniest second, you could have sworn you saw Bradley walk out of the station.

***

Dear Captain Bradshaw,

I am writing to you in response to your repeated inquiries to the International Red Cross about Anna Sokolova, born December 25, 1919, in Prague. No person matching that name and birthdate has been found in our records of wounded, dead, or missing in Czechoslovakia. The IRC has also been unable to confirm Ms. Sokolova’s current whereabouts with any local authorities due to a lack of records.

I hope to have sufficiently informed you. Please understand that at the time of writing, our resources are stretched, and we regret to inform you that we cannot further assist you on this case.

Bradley must have read the letter a hundred times before crumpling it up in frustration and jamming it into the side pocket of his duffle bag. It’s all coming down to this last-ditch attempt. Getting to Europe was actually surprisingly easy — Cyclone seemed more than pleased that Bradley had decided to follow his advice and take a desk post in Nuremberg. By the end of January 1946, Bradley was making his way back across the Atlantic.

However, getting a liberty pass was more difficult, especially a week pass for international travel. Bradley had called in about every single favor he could, signing on to stay an additional month in Germany, ultimately getting Mav to pull some strings for him. It’s May by the time he finally boards a train east, restless in his seat, looking out the window, waiting for when he will eventually see something he recognizes. Something, anything, will make all the puzzle places fall in place again and show him a path to you.

Bradley desperately hoped that everything would fall into place when he got off the train. That he would remember.

But in the back of the large black car that was waiting for him, zipping through the city, everything is just a blur.

It makes him uneasy. Nervous.

It’s like that moment of take-off; the second the wheels leave the carrier runway, there’s nothing but dark water beneath him. In that fraction of a second, his stomach drops — what am I even doing here?

Meeting his hosts does little to calm the mounting anxiety he feels. The ambassador’s residence is a grand villa surrounded by a beautiful garden overlooking the city. In the distance, the river glitters happily in the sunlight; the fruit trees are in fragrant bloom, colorful bunches of lilac in pink, blue, and purple color the city. The ambassador himself is almost unremarkable in stature as well as demeanor. Mrs. Parker appraises him with a sharp look and a too-kind smile. The daughter bats her eyelashes a little too hard for it to be genuinely demure; her perfectly sweet smile is a little too well-practiced, not a wrinkle on her pretty dress, not a hair out of place.

Behind them stand two maids in matching dark dresses and white aprons, with blank, borderline bored looks. After exchanging pleasantries, one of the maids leads him wordlessly up the grand staircase. Red carpet on marble. Gold latches on the windows.

It all seems very… formal, considering Bradley is not here on business. But when he received his travel visa, it came with an invitation to stay. It seemed rude to decline. Now Bradley is starting to regret not doing so anyway. Something about the house and these people is making him uneasy. It’s making his head hurt like he’s even more out of place here than anywhere else in the world.

Walking into the large sunny guestroom, a fresh flower arrangement in the vase on the dresser, Bradley closes his eyes for a moment. You once said May was your favorite time in the city because you liked how everything bloomed. Breathing in deeply, trying to gather his thoughts, floral notes hit his nose. There’s something familiar in the air.

He can smell your soap.

Bradley drops his duffle bag; it crashes on the carpeted floor. The smell, the tiniest hint that lingers, is making his stomach lurch like at take-off. God, it’s like your ghost is in the air, dancing around him, evading him every step. Bradley screws his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. He wants to remember.

Every route you showed him.

Every street corner he kissed you on.

Even that goddamn small room tucked away behind the hidden servant's entrance.

Your steps echo around him, running up the stairs, coming closer and closer. Suddenly, his heart was beating so fast, and his breath was coming out, heaving, somewhere between panic and elation. Before he can pinpoint where the footsteps are coming from, they disappear. A door closes. Silence.

You are haunting him.

***

Eyes closed, blouse sleeves rolled up, cigarette dangling loosely between your lips, you’re lounging on the old, creaky wooden chair outside the kitchen entrance. The empty bucket sits at your feet. Your new red and blue plaid coat hangs from the chair. It’s quiet. The sun feels pleasant. Behind your closed lids, you see the shadows of the trees move in the breeze. Inside, you hear the cook pottering around the kitchen, whistling.

It’s such an odd day. Despite the gorgeous weather, you have that foreboding feeling, like when a storm is brewing — not a cloud in the sky, but you feel how the air pressure suddenly drops. Your forehead still stings.

It’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. Eva would have already set you straight. If not for her, your mom would have. You thought you saw Bradley in a flash, in a flicker of shadow, and your heart soared with such force that you nearly knocked yourself out, falling over to catch another glimpse of his ghost. How incredibly pathetic.

The pit in your stomach is there again. The consuming darkness expands through your flesh and bones again. You managed to keep it at bay all this time, simply not admitting it was eating away at you. But the split second of your dream leaking into reality broke the dam.

Men like Bradley don’t wait for a girl for three years. They don’t need to. Men like Bradley sure as shit don’t settle for jumped-up little schoolgirls that dropped out of college. Why would they? And men like Bradley, you swallow heavily, have no use for a broken and burned body like yours. You have nothing to offer him.

You knew this. But it was your mistake to make, you tell yourself again. You thought you accepted that. Logically and rationally, it shouldn’t hurt like this. Your hand sneaks into your coat pocket again, the tip of your finger just brushing against the nameplate. It brings you no comfort — instead, you feel so much more aware of the pit in your stomach.

What would Bradley say if he knew you still had it in your pocket? He would probably make fun of you and tease you for falling for him so hard, still pining despite your constant protests as if he would remember. He never gave it to you to keep. He flung it at you. You just never gave it back, and Bradley never asked for it.

You screw your eyes shut tighter for a second, exhaling deeply. It’s Sunday, your day off, and you should be enjoying yourself. Not pondering the maybes of life long passed. Moreover, you shouldn’t be at the residence today — you’re only here to drop off the flowers for the guestroom because the florist forgot to deliver them. Which you did, and then you bolted through the servant’s entrance to the back of the house.

So why do you hear someone calling your name?

You wonder how much longer you can pretend not to hear and just bask in the sun a bit longer. The rapid footsteps approaching spell the end of your moment of quiet. Sitting up, rolling down your sleeves, and brushing the carefully styled curls back into place, framing the left side of your face.

“Annie!”

You wince. You hate that name.

Smiling broadly, Julie comes bursting out of the house. Her red hair is like a flame. Unceremoniously, she sits herself down in the doorway, legs stretched in front of her, toeing her neat black lacquered shoes off.

Automatically, you hand her your cigarette holder and a box of matches, which she gratefully accepts.

“Don’t sit on the floor, Julie,” You say in way of greeting. “You’ll get your dress dirty.”

She ignores you, stretching languidly.

“Did you take a peek at the new house guest?” She asks instead, a devilish look on her face.

“Do I ever?” You reply, ashing your cigarette absentmindedly. You ensure everything runs smoothly behind the scenes: the rooms look beautiful, not a crinkled sheet or speck of dust, magically laundered clothes each morning, fresh flowers. But it’s not your job to serve drinks or dinner.

It was hiding away in the shadows that once protected you. The shadows that wrapped their branches around you, through you, rooting you into place.

“He had Miss Lo on the ceiling with one look,” she continues, giddy. “This is promising to be such an entertaining week!”

“Oh please,” you close your eyes again, leaning back. “Nothing will happen. Miss Lo will simper, fawn, and complain, Mrs. Parker will loom over every step we make, and then the ambassador and his guest will probably burn a hole in the smoking room curtains again.”

Julie snorts.

“I get her, though,” she adds thoughtfully. “Miss Lo, I mean.”

You shoot her a skeptical look.

“What, you never have a little daydream about one of those handsome officers sweeping you off your feet?”

“Me?” You gesture vaguely at your face. “Hardly,” you lie.

“Especially you,” Julie continues, undeterred. Your mouth sets in a hard line. “You pine.”

“I don’t,” Annoyance is seeping through your voice.

“Yeah, you do. When you think no one is looking, when you’re working, it’s like your eyes glaze over. You’re pining for someone,” She’s pointing her index finger at you playfully. You roll your eyes.

“You know you could just tell me, right?” She presses, a little too eager. “You’re inviting all the gossip because you never tell us anything,”

“It’s annoying when Miss Lo does it, but it’s rude coming from you, Julie,” You cut her off sharply. Your head still hurts, and your ear feels heavy like it’s full of water.

You could talk about Bradley. There is no reason to keep it a secret anymore — the danger has passed. Once, you were waiting for the time when your great wartime romance would only be a story lovingly recounted over too many wines.

You could talk about what happened in those final days of the war. You were hardly the only one that came home broken in more ways than one. You thought that one day you’d look back at everything that happened, everything that you did, and feel some pride.

But it just hurts. And that hurt is all you have left. It’s yours to suffer because you convince yourself it’s the only way you are sure everything that happened was real: the good and the bad.

“You’re doing it again, Anya,” Julie takes a long drag from her cigarette, mercifully dropping the horrid new nickname bestowed on you by Mrs. Parker. You shoot her a long-suffering look.

“You know what they say, right?” Julie says calmly, legs stretched before her, languishing in the sun. “The best way to get over a man is to get under another one.”

You start laughing, despite yourself. You don’t know what has suddenly gotten into you. Maybe the shadows had become too cold and lonely for you to handle.

Maybe you finally allowed yourself to break free from your stasis.

Maybe you really stopped believing Bradley would ever come back to you.

Maybe you are ready to admit you never truly believed it in the first place.

The music is too loud. Your head is spinning — not from the collision, but from the white wine spritz going down too quickly. Why are you in a club on Sunday night? Why is it so busy? Someone is talking to you. You can see his mouth move, shaping the words, but you cannot hear his voice. It simply disappears in the wave of dissonant sounds. Julie is dancing. You see flashes of her red hair twirl in and out of sight.

It’s the creeping realization that you shouldn’t be here.

The room moves in strange waves. Fingers wrap around your chin. You want to stumble back, but your back is against a wall. Were you here the whole time? Nervously, you brush your fingers through your hair, ensuring the curls framing your face's left side are still in place. Another hand brushes them away again. You wish you could melt through the wall. The puffs of breath against your skin tell you he’s whispering something in your ear.

“Leave me alone,” You try.

You can’t hear your own words. You can’t hear the fucking words. Panic is bubbling up now. The grip on your chin is painful — you jerk your head away, throwing up your arms to create a shield between yourself and the hulking mass hovering over you. It doesn’t have the intended effect. The moment you think you’ve made an escape for yourself, he closes in on you more.

The hand threading through your hair yanks your head back painfully. You are sure that you screamed out. But it’s like the sound disappeared into the void. Maybe you only screamed in your head. His lips crash roughly into yours. Every action elicits a reaction — whenever you pull away, he pulls you back in closer.

It’s like a switch flips in your head. For a few seconds, the surge of adrenaline sharpens your vision again—the wave of noise stills. You stop struggling.

You know where you are.

Your wine glass is on the table, on your right-hand side. Your fingers sneak towards it, gripping the stem tightly. You have one shot at this. He is taller than you, heavier. You don’t stand a chance in a fair fight.

That’s okay. You won’t fight fair.

Shattering the bell of the glass on the side of the table shocks him enough to break off the kiss. The shock changes to wide-eyed horror when the sharp edge of the wine glass is pressed against his jugular. You use the moment to switch positions. It’s almost comical how meekly the man allows himself to get pushed against the wall.

You want to say something clever. But it’s like your tongue is paralyzed.

This is your chance. You need to get out before people start noticing you are poised to stab someone in the neck.

Stay in your shadow.

You are halfway down the street in the pitch dark night when you realize you are still holding the broken wine glass. The fine shards have made your fingers bleed. You stumble to a halt. The world is spinning uncomfortably again.

Why are you holding that glass? Where is your coat? Your purse?

Fuck. Fuck.

You don’t care about the coat. You don’t care about the purse or anything in it. Everything is replaceable.

A broken sob escapes you.

You care about that fucking bracelet in your pocket. It’s the one thing you can’t make yourself leave behind. You let out a scream from frustration. A window slams shut somewhere.

Why can’t you move on? Why are you allowing Bradley — fucking Rooster — who is not even fucking here, that you haven’t seen or heard from in the three years, who spent the better part of two months sweet-talking you into bed with him when he could have fucking died, who fucked with you, your head and heart so thoroughly in just six short days, and you let him, why are you still allowing him all this power over you? Why can’t you just let him go already?

You will yourself forward, but your feet won’t move.

You’re in stasis.

Tears streaming down your face, broken wine glass in your bloodied hand, you are sure you look as unhinged as you feel. Turning around, you march back to the club.

You will get back what’s yours.

You will get what was promised to you.

And you’ll do it your fucking self.

***

Looking at the picture he tore from Life, Bradley tries to determine if the church spires in the background are the same ones he’s looking at now. Has he been here before? Did you ever take him through this part of the city? It’s frustrating how little he seems to remember and how hard it is to recall the things he was so sure were branded onto his brain.

That place, the villa, was messing with his head. Something there was putting him on edge like he had to be on the lookout the whole time. It was almost like he was expecting to turn a corner, open a door, walk into any room, and find you there. He barely made it through the one night there before the anxiety became too overwhelming, and he packed his bag and checked into a hotel.

It settled some of his anxiety, but it didn’t help Bradley remember anything. Instead, he snaps a picture of the church. He got a new camera so he can play the part of tourist fully, but he mostly hopes someday, somehow, something will click in his brain again, and he’ll find his way to you. As of today, he has five days to find you in this maze of a city before he needs to get back to Germany and finish his assignment there. After that, there is no telling how long it will be before Bradley gets another chance to come to Europe.

He has to find you.

“Rooster!”

Alarmed, Bradley turns around, stuffing the picture back into his wallet. He’s not sure if he should be relieved or annoyed at the person calling his name.

“Bradley Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,” Jake Seresin saunters to Bradley, grinning widely. Bradley closes his eyes for a moment, cursing. Of all the people in this city, he had to run into Bagman. A Bagman that looks and smells like he just rolled out of a bar, no less, his RAF uniform jacket unbuttoned, tie loose, cover askew.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Jake asks, attempting to fix his hair by running his hand through it several times, just making it stick out worse. “Did you miss me so much you came to see me on my home turf?” He adds arrogantly, still smiling like the devil.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Seresin,” Bradley retorts flatly. “I didn’t come to see you, and right now, I’m not sure I want to be seen with you,”

“You’re such a stick in the mud, lieutenant,” Jake drawls sarcastically.

“It’s captain,” It shouldn’t feel so good to Bradley to lord his rank over Hangman, who is still a lieutenant. But of course, Hangman only responds with a deliberately poorly executed salute to Bradley.

“I know a good watering hole near here,” Jake says offhandedly as he searches his pockets, only to pull out an empty carton of cigarettes, crush it, and stuff it back in his pocket — if it’s supposed to be an invitation, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like one. “You can buy me a drink and tell me what you’re doing here.”

“It’s 11 in the morning, Hangman,”

“When in Rome and all that,” He waves Bradley’s protests away.

Bradley hates the idea. Absolutely hates it. But what if. What if Bagman, of all people, could actually help him?

“Fine,” Bradley tries to sound indifferent. “I’ll buy you a drink, but you have to help me with something,”

The broad smile on Jake’s face at the mention of Bradley needing his help has Bradley convinced that this is all one big mistake.

Bradley still thinks Jake is arrogant and annoying at best, but he begrudgingly appreciates him tagging along. Jake seems to be at least somewhat genuinely interested in helping him, and he cleans up quite well. Bradley needs a guide and someone who speaks the language, even when that guide is more interested in catching the eye of as many girls as possible in his flashy uniform, adorned with medals for bravery and the highest orders of service. It’s not that Jake didn’t fairly deserve those—Bradley still thinks he’s an absolute madman, both in the air and on the ground. A madman with his heart in the right place, however.

And he can hardly blame Jake for using his uniform to charm the local ladies—Bradley has done the exact same many times. But he’s only looking for one lady to charm again.

“I’m sure even you thought of this before, but are you sure you have her real name?” Jake asks conversationally as they walk across the bridge over the Vltava.

He has four days to find you. Yesterday Jake was of relatively little actual help, and somewhere, it pains Bradley that the first and only person that he has spoken to about you, is Jake fucking Seresin. Bradley couldn’t tell Jake all the details, but he put together the details. He thinks that by now he has seen every part of the city in the last two days, but he still hasn’t found you.

“I know her first name is Anna—everyone consistently referred to her as Anya, though,” Bradley replies, looking around. A little tug in his heart. Carefully, he thinks he sees something familiar when you connect the first two pieces of a puzzle. Bradley remembers the bridge, with the golden ornamented columns at either end. He remembers your teasing smile as you helped him practice the pronunciation. He walked past it with you so many times, the national theater behind them.

“Yeah, people do that here.” Jake shrugs. “It’s a common nickname to a very common first name, though.”

“As for her last name—I know for a fact, her initials are A.S.” Bradley continues. “She gave me her handkerchief with her initials embroidered on it and a little bird. Sokol, for falcon.”

“Sure, her last would be Sokolova.” Jake interjects, bored. “But,” he continues, lighting a cigarette. “Have you considered that, even if her initials are A.S., she could have a different first name? Alzhbyeta, Alitse, Anastasia, Alena—I mean, if I had to pick a cover name, I would probably pick the most bog-standard first name in the whole country, too.”

Bradley knows Jake is inferring it will be next to impossible to find you. They walk along the colorful buildings along the water—Bradley feels like he’s walked this route a million times in his dreams, and the moment he waited for is finally here. He knows exactly where to go without being able to explain which turn to take.

“I grew up near here.” Jake suddenly pipes up as he walks next to Bradley, looking around the stately buildings. “My mother still lives around here,”

“Anya said she grew up here too.” Bradley’s heart is beating loudly. Maybe asking Hangman for help was a good idea after all. “Do you think there’s a chance you might have known her?”

Jake shrugs, eyeing the girls walking down the opposite side of the street. Bradley describes what you look like; you were in your sophomore year in university in 1939.

“She could be my age,” Jake admits flatly. “But there were at least five girls named Anna that could roughly fit your description in my cohort in high school—if she even went to the same school as I did. And I don’t remember what they went to college for.”

Jake is not the most encouraging companion, but Bradley’s heart still skips a beat as he sees the familiar street. It’s all slotting into place now. The row of yellow, white, pink, and green. The statues look down at the entrance. He speeds up his pace, Jake jogging behind him.

Bradley quickly scans the names next to the doorbells before moving on to the next one, Jake hot on his tail.

“Bradshaw, listen.” Jake puts a hand on his shoulder, face concerned. It’s strange to see him so serious suddenly. “I grew up in the next building over,” He gestures at the yellow building at the end of the block. “I don’t remember a family called Sokol living in one of these buildings.”

“Fuck.” Bradley mumbles as he pulls out your handkerchief from the inner pocket of his jacket. He traces the stitching of your initials. Was it really all a ruse? Did you never truly believe he’d come back for you? Were you just playing out a role in the end?

Jake glances down before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Can I see that?”

Bradley hands it to him wordlessly, tucking his hands in his pockets. Did he not tell you enough times? Did you forget or simply stop believing? Did you never believe him in the first place, and were you only happy to dream with him? The fact that he had spun so many girls so many tales over the years this might finally be his comeuppance.

All the dark thoughts he had tried to keep at bay have broken through. He would be crazy not to consider that you might not have gotten married in the meantime or still living in the same place. You were never going to wait for him. Why would you? He knew he was right when he saw your real smile, and you could see everyone wrapped around your little finger, and you did the same thing so effortlessly with him. And he’s more and more sure you could have a devoted husband now, maybe a baby. And you’re happy. Without him.

You never told him your last name. You really didn’t mean for him to find you after the war.

“Bradshaw, I cannot believe I have to tell you this.” Jake sounds like he’s holding in laughter, breaking Bradley out of his reverie and thrusting the neatly folded fabric back into his line of vision. “This,” He jabs at the embroidered corner. “Is not a fucking S with a little bird,” He bursts out laughing.

“Wai- what?” Bradley forcefully grabs the handkerchief, looking at it intently, like it now contains some new information.

“Did she tell you it was an S with a little bird?” Jake asks, barely able to contain himself.

“No, no…” Bradley is sunk in thought. “I just… I just thought Anya was awful at embroidering.” He mumbles.

Jake absolutely loses it at that, doubling over in laughter. An old lady looks out of her opened window, staring both men down judgmentally. When Jake finally stops laughing, he tries to catch his breath to explain how this could be funny.

“So, it’s not an S,” Bradley asks impatiently. “Then what — Hangman, get a grip! — What is it?”

“It’s a Sh,” He replies simply, rubbing his face and giggling. “It’s a completely different letter.”

Bradley stands rooted to the ground, speechless, as Jake keeps laughing.

“You know what would be even more hilarious?” Jake is leaning his forearm against the building, hand covering his eyes with his hand as his shoulder shakes from laughing. “If this whole time, you had been actually talking about Anna Shafrankova, my neighbor who tutored me in high school.”

“They say it’s a small world,” He takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “But man, that would actually be really weird.”

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Bradley throws himself against the wall, closing his eyes. He feels the sun shine warmly on his face. The gears in his head turn, overheating. He tries to desperately remember every bit of information you shared with him, sometimes offhandedly. As a child, you were scared of ghosts and explored the passageways between buildings with other neighborhood kids. Jake must have been one of them. The arrogant classmate who went to flight school and then disappeared. Was that also Jake?

“Was she scared of ghosts?” Bradley ventures carefully. Suddenly, Jake’s laughter evaporates, and he’s looking at Bradley with astonishment. “When exploring the buildings, as kids, she told me she was scared of the ghosts haunting the servant stairwell,”

“What the…” The look on Jake’s face is confirmation enough. Bradley is sure of it. They are talking about the same person: you. This means, embarrassingly, that Bradley now actually knows less about you than he thought. Those identity papers had been fake.

“Was her birthday on Christmas?”

Jake actually looks confused for a moment. “No,” He ventures carefully. “I’m pretty sure it was sometime in summer — we used to go swimming in the reservoir lake and build camp fires for her birthday, so definitely not in winter.”

Those papers had been very fake, indeed. It’s both a relief and a setback.

“Come on, let’s see if old Shafrankova is home,” Jake announces, clapping Bradley on his back. “After that, you can buy me a drink or ten, and I want an invitation to the wedding.”

Bradley follows Jake in a daze to the green house – you always took him out of another exit, so Bradley never knew which building you lived in. Or which apartment for that matter?

“There’s a different name on 2B now.” Jake comments. “But maybe she left a forwarding address.”

Jake is playing up his natural charm to the lady of the house, who is blushing furiously, answering his questions. Bradley looks around. You never talked much about your home or family. The apartment is light and spacious, with high ceilings and hardwood floors. It’s ornately furnished. What was it like to grow up here? You always seemed humble, never complaining about the conditions you found yourself in, from sleeping on the floor to eating old dry bread. But to live here, surely your family must have been well off, solidly middle-class.

You were well-educated; that should probably have been a hint of your background. But Bradley thought you were just determined. Because you had proven time and time again in the short time he knew you that you had determination and discipline in spades.

“Come on, let’s go.” Jake motions him out, and the lady of the house waves at them with a dreamy look in her eye.

“What did you learn?” Bradley can’t contain his curiosity.

“She didn’t leave a forwarding address,” Jake grumbles. “The lady said Shafrankova sold everything and disappeared.”

Jake hesitates suddenly, eyeing Bradley wearily.

“She said that she only saw Shafrankova once.” He says, choosing his words carefully. “She said she looked… scarred.”

Bradley stops mid-descended on the stairs.

“Scarred, how?” He asks sharply. The vision from his dream, blood gushing from your head, the smell of burning flesh, your face contorted in a voiceless scream, flashes through his head.

Jake shrugs. “She didn’t elaborate. She only said it was a waste of such a lovely face.”

Bradley feels the blood drain from his face. Someone hurt you. Someone came after you. His mind keeps flashing back to when he looked out the train window. What if he wasn’t misremembering? What if it was really someone dragging you off the platform by force? What if you had been arrested? Locked up?

What if that dream really had been more than just a dream?

He tries to find solace in the idea that you aren’t dead. That picture in Life, with his bracelet, must have been you, and if the new tenant saw you, you must have survived the uprising. But you got hurt. And he’s getting the sinking feeling it’s because of him.

“I need to find her.” He utters, panicked.

“That’s the idea,” Jake replies in a bored tone again. “But let’s figure out a plan first. I know a good bar near.”

Dragging his feet, Bradley follows Jake down the street. All the progress they made today was for naught in the end. He is no closer to actually finding you; he only knows where you are not. Time is ticking, and tomorrow, he needs to spend the whole evening as a dinner guest of the ambassador.

“Hey, cheer up,” Hangman turns to look at Bradley with that exact shit-eating grin that never spells anything good out of his mouth. “If you don’t find her by Saturday, I’ll happily introduce you to another Anna,”

***

Mrs. Parker likes to see effort over results. Even though the windows in the smoking room are squeaky clean — the room hadn’t been used since it was cleaned just a week prior — she won’t be satisfied until she has seen you scrub everything and sweat on your brow. She is always particular, but now she is doing it to punish you.

A searing headache and repeated nightmares that kept you bedbound until yesterday. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t stay awake. You just lay there, tears streaming down your face.

And from what you had heard, the houseguest suddenly left without a real explanation. It’s not your fault, but Mrs. Parker needs to get rid of her frustration somewhere.

You hate washing windows. You hate it even more when someone hovers over you. But dinner is in an hour and a half, and Mrs. Parker is getting nervous. You don’t bother to ask if important guests are coming; they are all important. Decorated, distinguished, loud, and drunk.

The big windows of the smoking room on the second floor open outward into the beautiful garden of the villa on the hill, the city sprawling below it. The sun is low, and the blue sky slowly colors pink and orange. You wish you could take a moment to enjoy it rather than scrubbing nonexistent dirt from the window sill and listening to Mrs. Parker going through what appears to be a nervous breakdown as she zooms through the room.

“Annie, make sure that there is fresh ice here before dinner ends,”

“Yes, ma’am,” You reply lightly.

“Annie, this tablecloth has a gray sheen; please replace it and rewash it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” You reply dutifully as you strain to reach the top of the window with your cleaning cloth.

“Annie, Annie, these flowers look like they are wilting. Are you sure they are fresh?”

You look over your shoulder at the vase Mrs. Parker is holding. Wilting is a strong word.

“I’ll replace them with fresh cuts before them men arrive after dinner, ma’am,” You assure her, although you doubt they will notice the difference or care.

“Oh, Annie, I need to go check on dinner,” Mrs. Parker dramatizes. She grasps you by the shoulder as you stand by the open window, the long sleeves of your dark work dress awkwardly rolled up, sweat prickling on your forehead, and sopping cloth in your hand, slowly dripping onto the hardwood floor. “You’re the only one I can trust,” She implores you. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

She’s asking you like she’s not paying you to do this.

“Of course,” You smile politely. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am.”

You sigh deeply when you hear the door click close, returning to the open window. You plop the rag back into the metal bucket on the window sill, wiping your hands on your apron as you look out over the garden. The blooming colors, the sweet smells — it’s really at its most beautiful right now. The apple tree is so full of blossoms it’s almost completely white. The rose bushes have come in beautifully again in pink, red, and yellow. The lavender is abundant.

When you hear the high-pitched giggle, you step back from the window, averting your gaze. Miss Lo is strolling through the garden with tonight’s guest, showing him the lush surroundings and stunning view. You busy yourself with changing the allegedly grayish tablecloth and taking the perfectly fine flowers out of the vase.

You can hear Miss Lo’s melodic voice, although you cannot make out any words. Envy is searing through you like a red-hot iron. Today, you just can’t take it. Resolutely, you march back to the window, expressly not looking at the two figures slowly walking down the garden path in the sunset. As you reach the window latch, you plant your left hand on the window sill to keep yourself stead.

The windows are so unnecessarily large you have to strain to reach far enough — your fingertips barely touch the handle. As you put more weight on your left arm, leaning forward, you feel the pain building in your shoulder.

Just a little further.

Finally, you get a grip on the handle, but it’s like a bomb bursts in your left shoulder. Your elbow buckles from the sudden wave of pain, colliding with the metal bucket that you stupidly left on the window sill. Time almost slows to a crawl as you grab your left arm, pressing it against your chest to stop it from violently shaking, and you watch in partial fascination, partial horror as the metal bucket is no longer standing on the window sill but rather tortuously slowly is sailing down to the patio.

You scrunch up your face and hold your breath in preparation for the screech and clang of the metal against the stone, still standing in the window, looking down at the inevitable chaos below you.

The impact echoes, drawing out your mortification. You close your eyes in frustration.

The high-pitched girlish scream is several orders of magnitude louder than the bucket hitting the stone patio.

Shit. Fucking shit. Miss Lo.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes, still frozen in the open window. You don’t see the bucket and the soapy water sloshed over the stones. You don’t see Miss Lo in her evening dress and glittering jewelry, her face etched in horror, clinging to her companion. Everything has disappeared, melting away in the background.

Because on the garden path leading up to the house, in a resplendent white Navy uniform, looking right at you, is Bradley.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. Bradley pulls his arm away from Miss Lo, shaking her off almost rudely. He’s still staring at you like he’s just seen a ghost. As he takes one step forward, you take a step back. With one last look, you start running.

In the war, you left small parts of yourself scattered. A version, a part of you, stayed on that square in front of the university between the bodies of your classmates. Another part of you broke off in that mountain cabin when you first aimed a gun at another person. Bradley chipped off and pocketed so many bits of you, and oh, how gladly you let him. Finding Eva’s murdered body in the stairwell of your apartment cracked deep into your soul. When you shot Jan, you didn’t feel anything; you were already so broken, but more bits of the person that you once were died there that day. The explosions, the bodies, the blood, the shots—they cling to the wreckage of your former self.

As you stand at the top of the stairs, tugging your sleeve down out of habit, you’ve never been more acutely aware of how incomplete you truly are. There is nothing but debris left of the girl Bradley met that day in that barn. You are surprised he even recognizes you.

He is looking up at you in wonder from the bottom of the stairs. Hurriedly, clumsily, he grabs his cover off his head, holding it in his hands almost nervously, unsure what to do next. The black pit in your stomach is still there — you are so afraid that the look of wonder will disappear forever when he sees you up close. Despite your heart beating as much in fear as in excitement, your feet start moving down the stairs of their own accord, going faster and faster. Every broken piece of you rattles like broken china with every step, the sound becoming deafening the closer you get.

Bradley is running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. His brain is going a mile a minute: you look exactly like he remembers, but also different. Still beautiful, so much more beautiful than in his memories. Your hair is different than he remembers— longer for sure, but he could swear you used to wear it parted to the right rather than the left. The long-sleeved, high-collared, dark charcoal dress looks severe on you in the light summer weather.

You almost crash into him as you race down the stairs. You grab onto his uniform jacket to steady yourself, your face automatically moving to his, only just stopping yourself short. His scars have faded, although you can still see the raised ridges on his skin. There is no way he cannot see yours now. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him. His warm hazel eyes roam over your face, unreadable. You hesitate, averting your gaze.

Maybe you’ve changed too much. Maybe there’s really nothing left of the person Bradley once knew. He can probably see that now. Maybe this Bradley is not the one you remember anymore. His fingers graze the damaged skin along your hairline. Swallowing dryly, you look up at him.

He’s smirking at you, eyes twinkling.

How you hate that cocky smile. How you’ve missed it. Seeing it again, feeling him again, is so overwhelming you feel your poor heart might give out. You tighten your grip on him, pulling yourself closer, as if you’re scared he’s going to turn to smoke in your arms, or, worse, push you away.

But Bradley moves his face closer to you, his mouth only a fraction away from yours. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You can feel his heartbeat under your fingers.

“Do it, you coward,” He whispers.

He sees the flash of anger in your eyes. How dare he use your own words against you? But it has the intended effect. It’s all you need to hear. You kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck, barely giving him a moment to recover from your ferocity, slanting your mouth against his, begging him to let you deepen the kiss. Bradley allows you without hesitation, easily catching your weight as you fall into him. Your body still fits so perfectly against his.

This is what it should have felt like, Bradley realizes. Coming home, finally closing the long chapter of war. He had been chasing this feeling: the benevolent calm, the warm intimacy.

Home is where the heart is, and that was always in your arms.

note | good things come to those who wait. Also, this chapter has some of the earliest scenes that I actually wrote over a year ago, and those were the exact things that kept me awake the whole night when I came up with this story. Which is more than a year ago, actually. God, I hope the payoff is really going to be worth it hahahaha. Thanks for sticking by me, still. There was actually a full chapter of material before this, titled Blue Skies. But I cut a lot of stuff out to start moving the story a bit faster, mostly because I really want to write this finally!

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc

79 notes · View notes

gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

Note

I can’t decide which scenario would be hotter…. Bradley and smart Alleck fucking before a dangerous mission or Bradley and smart alleck fucking after Bradley almost dies on a mission and thought he would never see her again. (angst is so hot to me??)

oh SHIT - for the latter scenario, i feel like it would be super interesting if it was smart aleck that was the one really effected by it and they’re both kind of like woah since it’s early in their relationship and they haven’t said i love you yet even though they've said everything but it? and it’s her that’s like “fuck you could’ve died and i would’ve never seen you again?”

i’m envisioning if she has to pick bradley up after he was in medical for observation after the incident and someone (probably mav or phoenix) tells her what actually happened because we all know bradley wouldn’t say anything? and she’s like super quiet on the way back to his place and is the one driving:

warnings - light smut (is that a thing? they fuck but it’s tender? and kinda sappy? but there’s angst in the beginning. anyway sorry for making you wait so long for this)

waiting room

“would you have told me?” you whispered. “if i didn’t have to pick you up today, would you have told me what happened?”

“no.” bradley didn’t even look at you.

“no?”

“no.”

you scoffed and your hands tightened on the steering wheel. “you don’t think i should know that my - that my boyfriend’s plane crashed into a fucking mountain? that i almost lost - that i might never have seen you again without getting to -” you cut yourself off, not believing you’d almost let the words slip out.

it was too early.

though bradley finally turned to look at you, he didn’t say anything. you shook your head and then focused back on the road. the rest of the drive, though it was mercifully quick, passed by in silence.

you pulled into his driveway and put the car in park, but didn’t turn it off.

“you have to tell me stuff like that, bradley - and it can be after or before the fact, i don’t care. but if this is going to keep working, you’re going to have to tell me stuff like this.”

he sighed, but it was more weary than exasperated. “i don’t want you to needlessly worry about me -”

“- that’s bullshit. i worry about you every time you go to work - i’d have to be an idiot not to. but i think i worry more when you don’t tell me anything? i’d rather know something than nothing and have to work around your moods like a fucking minefield. there’s two people in this relationship and that means we shoulder the burden together, alright?”

bradley nodded and wordlessly took your hand. he looked so small and young and sad sitting next to you. you brought his hand up to your mouth and kissed it, trying to put all of your love into the simple action.

“alright.”

“call me later, okay?” you said eventually, loathing having to let him go, but knowing you hadn’t been invited to spend the night - or even inside. you never wanted to overstep or assume. it had barely been three months - hell, he hadn’t even seen you without makeup on yet, to say nothing of inviting yourself over.

when he didn’t respond, you unlocked the doors with a resounding click, but bradley didn’t move.

“you’re not gonna stay?” he whispered.

“i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to?” you asked in an equally quiet voice. he nodded. “i don’t have any of my stuff with me...”

“we can pull something together, plus it’s friday and i - i don’t want to be alone - i want you - want you to stay.”

you knew you could scrounge together some basic toiletries from your work bag, but didn’t have any clothes in your car besides that morning’s pilates gear.

but bradley had asked. and you’d do just about anything bradley asked.

“okay.” you turned off the car and the two of you made your way into his house.

you hadn’t been there since sunday morning before the two of you had headed off to torrey pines for the afternoon. but, as usual, bradley’s house was neat and clean and smelled faintly of his tom ford cologne and the stir-fry he’d told you he’d made for dinner last night.

there was something comforting about his house and the furniture he’d put together - none of it quite matched, not exactly, but it all worked regardless. you liked his worn, brown leather couch and the wide armed oak wood chairs that he’d had shipped from Virginia and that his PS4 was neatly tucked away in his TV cabinet. you liked his massive dinning room table that was just begging to host a dinner party and the kitchen island stocked with practically every kitchen gadget known to man. you liked the white, high thread count sheets he had on his bed and the way he stopped tossing his not-quite-dirty-but-not-quite-clean clothes on the leather chair in his room because you said it looked messy.

you liked it. you liked the house. you liked the coziness it exuded. because you liked bradley. you really liked bradley.

and today you had almost lost him.

“want me to make you something to eat?” he was looking around the kitchen, but it didn’t seem like he was really focusing on anything. “i can make it while you shower?”

he turned towards you, almost startled. “yeah, that would be good? thanks.”

“cool, just uhh - just holler if you need anything.” and then he gave you a kiss on the forehead and headed upstairs.

while bradley was in the shower, you fished around in his well-stocked refrigerator looking for something to make for dinner. you smiled fondly thinking about how he had way more food - and good food at that - in his fridge than you did in yours. eventually, you decided on some pasta with a side salad.

there were plenty of veggies readily available for you to doctor up the sauce and you had just finished adding the last bit of seasoning to it when bradley came back downstairs.

his hair was still slightly damp and he had thrown on a pair of gym shorts along with a grey UVA crewneck sweatshirt. you felt terribly overdressed in your work clothes.

he came up beside you and peered into the pot. “smells really good.”

“it’s nothing fancy,” you tried to brush his words off, “i just added some stuff to the sauce you already had and made a salad. you’re the cook.”

he chuckled. “only to impress you - i’m serious, any time you come over for dinner i spend like three days before thinking of what to make. penny actually just gave me a couple cookbooks.”

if it was even possible, your heart melted even more.

you liked him. you liked him so much.

“really?" he shrugged and ducked his head. “feel like i gotta up my game.”

you strained the pasta and poured the sauce over it and then brought all your plates over to the breakfast nook in the corner. the two of you sat in companionable silence, just letting the events of the afternoon catch up with you.

it was crazy to think just three hours ago you’d been sitting in your weekly team meeting when your phone lit up with a call from an 858 number. something instinctual had told you to answer it and as soon as the voice on the other end had said we’re calling to inform you that lieutenant commander bradshaw has been in an accident you swept up your laptop and grabbed your tote bag and were out of the building in three minutes.

the next fifty minutes spent in traffic on I-5 were hell, especially since the number that had called you was only an outgoing number and you hadn’t known what would await you at the med center off base. and then when you finally saw bradley sitting on an exam table with his flight suit tied around his waist, it was like you could breathe again

you liked him. you liked him so much.

pete and natasha had met you in the hallway, telling you there had been an issue with bradley’s engine - the plane had been unsalvageable and he had known to bail out, but the canopy had gotten stuck and he had to eject later than advised, hence the hard landing into a mountainside in the mojave desert. miraculously, he only had a couple scratches and an ice pack on his shoulder.

he had been lucky. this time.

you frowned, suddenly, snapped out of your reverie. “how did they know to call me?”

bradley’s cheeks colored and he was looking anywhere but at you. he cleared his throat and eventually looked up. “you’re on my list.”

“your list?”

“you know,” he cleared his throat again, “if something happens to me.” your eyes swam with sudden tears, but bradley kept rambling. “i mean, it’s just you - and mav, i mean pete, but he’s normally with me, but yeah. i thought you’d want to know if -”

you got up from the table and wrapped your arms around him. he felt like home and you couldn’t help but burrow your face into his neck. “- bradley -”

he rubbed his hands up and down your back, bunching up your dress. “- which sounds stupid because i literally just told you i don’t want to worry you, but i also want you to know if something bad really does happen to me and i don’t - i don’t walk away with just a sore shoulder.” you squeezed him even tighter, completely ignoring what he’d just said about the sore shoulder.

you liked him. you liked him so much.

“i just didn’t like that you ultimately had to worry for nothing - and i know you said you always worry, so next time something like this happens, i’ll tell you -” you pulled back to glare at him “- not that i’m planning on doing that, but stuff happens.”

bradley sat you on his lap, both your dinners temporarily forgotten. “i know - god, i know.” you cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the scars there. “i just - i guess i didn’t realize how close i was to losing you, not when i - i mean i -”

the words caught in your throat for a moment, but bradley’s hopeful expression spurred you on. “- i like you, bradley - a lot. like a lot a lot. and i guess just knowing something could’ve happened to you when we’re just really getting into this scared me and i probably was a little snappier than necessary, so i’m sorry, i was just scared.”

“sweetheart,” he bounced you slightly on his lap, “you know i’m crazy about you, too.”

and just like that, you couldn’t wait another moment and brought your lips to his, kissing him like it was for the last time. without taking a breath, you straddled yourself across his thigh, sliding yourself in between bradley and the table. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing up your checkered crepe dress so your underwear brushed against his bare leg.

as his hands snaked underneath your dress, you started grinding yourself on his thigh - wanting to be even closer to him. your back arched, inviting his touch, and you sighed as his fingers kneaded your breasts over your bra. his gorgeous, still damp hair was mussed and fluffy from how your own hands were running through it and he sighed against your mouth.

and all you kept thinking was bradley bradley bradley.

you liked him. you liked him so much.

“let me take you upstairs...” he mumbled against your neck, his lips peppering you with kisses and his teeth leaving marks you’d find tomorrow.

“you don’t wanna - do this on the kitchen table?” you pulled back, but didn’t get off his thigh. it impressed you how he was able to support your weight.

bradley squeezed your hips and chuckled. “i’m kinda fond of it - don’t want have to buy a new one after it breaks.”

you giggled. “what about the dishes and -”

“- later, later,” he kissed you twice, “gotta make sure my girl’s taken care of first. make sure she knows how much i care about her.”

the two of you dashed upstairs like a pair of teenagers, bumping into the doorframe once you got to bradley’s room. it reminded you of your first time with him after that fateful first date. you pulled at the back of your dress, trying to pull down the zipper, but bradley beat you to it - carefully sliding the zipper down your back and then folding your dress and carefully laying it on the chair in the corner.

you moaned. the man had merely folded your dress instead of letting it puddle on the floor and your pussy was practically clenching on air.

your stupid boy. your stupid sweet, kind, thoughtful boy.

you liked him. you liked him so much.

the two of you finished getting undressed and laid down on the bed, bradley on top of you, clearly trying to be mindful of his sore shoulder.

his hand slid between your bodies and played with your clit before he slipped two fingers inside you. you whimpered, desperate for him. “that’s my girl, could feel you dripping on my thigh downstairs.”

normally, you would have savored his touch, gotten lost in the foreplay. but tonight you just wanted him - wanted bradley.

“bubs, i don’t - i just need you inside me...”

he groaned your name. “you’re so - fuck.” he rubbed his cock along your slit, but didn’t put it inside yet. “you’re so wet for me. you want me to lick that pretty pussy of yours? or do you want me to fuck you?”

you nodded, nuzzling into his neck and pressing butterfly kisses to his shoulder. suddenly, he pinched your clit and you cried out. “gotta use your words - don’t wanna have to ask again...”

“i want you to fuck me,” you whined. “please fuck me.”

bradley chuckled. “well if you’re gonna beg me...” without letting another moment go to waste, he slipped inside you.

every time bradley fucked you it felt like the first time. and to know that today you were almost robbed of that chance to do this again - to be with him like it was the first time - made you pull him closer, not wanting there to be an inch - a centimeter - separating the two of you. proving to him and proving to yourself that he was there - he was alive and beautiful and good and yours.

“i can’t believe you’re mine,” bradley whispered against your neck, unknowingly repeating your thoughts.

and you loved him. you loved him so much.

-----------

a/n - that was fun!

#asks #bradley and smart aleck #also want to do something with him being like wicked hyped up on adrenaline and having to call her at work or something #i literally wrote this in two hours sorry #bradley fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #edit: THE TYPOS IM EMBARRASSED

755 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Why Not Again? | Rooster x Reader x Hangman

Summary: After a successful mission, Bradley and Jake are so pleased that you're around to thank them both for a job well done.

Warnings: 100% smut, oral, threesome

Length: 1400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

This is a sequel to Why Not Both? But it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was an exhausted, sweaty mess, but the mission had been a successful one. He and Jake walked side by side along the carrier deck in their flight suits, receiving praise and appreciation for their efforts.

"Well, that was an adventure," Jake drawled, pushing his hand through his hair and glancing at Bradley. "What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

Bradley knew what he wanted to do, but he was a little nervous to say it out loud to Jake, just in case he'd read the scenario all wrong yesterday. "Uh, gonna grab some dinner later. Probably take a shower before that."

"Same," Jake agreed quickly as they both wound through the hallways and entered their shared bunk. "Nothing too crazy."

Bradley grunted and started to unzip his flight suit as images of you sucking Jake's cock while Bradley fucked you filled his mind. He remembered how perfect you felt yesterday as you took them both at the same time without hesitation.

He cleared his throat and asked, "Nothing too crazy?"

Jake paused as he was pulling his undershirt shirt off. "I mean... I could handle a little crazy." He had one eyebrow raised at Bradley as if trying to make him say it first.

"How crazy you wanna get, Hangman?" Bradley asked, yanking down the sleeves of his flight suit and letting them hang at his sides.

Jake laughed and scratched the back of his neck, blushing as he looked at the floor. "She was something else."

"Oh yeah," Bradley agreed, and if he let himself get hard in front of Jake, it had to be while you were here, too. So he took a deep breath and added, "I could get crazy with her again."

"Same," Jake said immediately. "You know how to find her?"

Before Bradley could answer, there was a knock on the bunk door. He shared a questioning look with Jake, and when Bradley opened the door and saw you standing there in your uniform, he grinned at you.

"Speak of the devil," he whispered, and you giggled.

"Were you boys talking about me?" you asked sweetly. And if Bradley didn't know how good it felt to be balls deep in your pussy while you were getting double teamed, he would probably believe you were as innocent as your face looked.

But he knew better.

"We sure were," he promised, opening the door wider for you to enter. "Singing your praises."

You preened as you looked up at him before you waved to Jake. "I'm so happy you're both here so I can tell you at the same time that you flew great today. Very impressive."

Bradley hooked his index finger under your chin, and you looked up at him with wide, needy eyes. You moaned softly as he stroked his fingers along your neck. "Maybe you should thank us both for a job well done."

Your eyes darted to the side where Jake stood, bare from the waist up, and your smile blossomed into something truly beautiful. Then you ran your fingers down the front of Bradley's undershirt to the hem and pulled it up while you reached for Jake at the same time. Bradley hurriedly yanked his shirt off and tossed it across the bunk, and then you were touching both of them.

Bradley leaned down and kissed your lips softly while Jake stood behind you and untucked your khaki uniform shirt.

"How are you going to thank us?" Jake drawled, kissing along your neck as he worked his fingers down the column of buttons.

You looked Bradley in the eyes as you wiggled your ass back against Jake and said, "How about I do it on my knees?"

Both men groaned in unison as you dropped to the bunk floor, right on the spot where Bradley had to clean up the mess of his and Jake's cum that dripped out of you last night. You took Jake by the hand and guided him to stand next to Bradley, and then you dipped your hands into Jake's flight suit. Bradley watched, giving you his full attention as your small hands wrapped around Jake's cock, pulling him out of his unzipped flight suit.

Both men were mesmerized as you stroked Jake with your steady hands, working him until a bead of precum decorated his tip. When your tongue swirled against Jake, taking that droplet for yourself, Bradley pulled himself free from his own flight suit.

"You like watching?" you asked Bradley before you licked your lips, and he nodded.

"So pretty," he grunted, watching you suck Jake's cock with your uniform shirt hanging open, showing off your light pink bra. His brain was screaming about how fucking filthy he knew you were, but you still somehow looked so innocent as you took Jake all the way to his balls.

Jake tilted his head back and panted as he grabbed for your hair, and you looked up at Bradley through your lashes and a haze of lust.

When you popped Jake out of your mouth, you whispered, "Come here." Bradley let you pull him closer until he was right next to Jake, and you giggled and parted your lips as his cock hit your cheek. "You're both so big," you said before you took Bradley between your perfect lips, and he sighed and groaned in relief.

You sucked, kissed and nuzzled his cock, giving him your mouth now while you jerked Jake with your hand. Bradley was treated to the sight of saliva dribbling down your chin while you bobbed hard and fast on his length until you gagged.

"She's so good," Jake managed in a ragged whisper, and then both men were stroking your face and hair.

"She's an angel," Bradley added as you hollowed out your cheeks and made him buck into your mouth. You moaned around him, sucking him just right until he bucked again. "Baby, you're killing me."

With a sweet laugh, you popped Bradley out of your mouth and wrapped one hand around each cock. Bradley made eye contact with Jake while you guided them closer and closer together until their cocks were nearly touching.

When neither he nor Jake backed away, you opened your mouth wide and took them both between your lips at the same time. ''Holy fuck," Bradley barked. The sensation of your warm tongue and lips as well as Jake's cock pressed against his own had him dizzy with need.

Jake grabbed you by the back of your head, and you let both of them push further into your mouth as your eyes went wide. You looked so pretty when you were full like this, and the squeezing sensation along Bradley's length had his balls tightening. You were gagging, tears filling your eyes as Jake moaned, "I'm gonna cum."

With saliva coating your chin, you pulled both of them from your mouth and opened wide. You jerked them off with one hand each as you gasped and whined, making the neediest noises Bradley had ever heard.

"Shit," Jake grunted as he came, and Bradley watched his cum fly in white ribbons, coating your lips and cheek, and landing on Bradley's tip as well.

Bradley watched you swallow a load of Jake's cum as you met his eyes. You jerked Bradley off expertly, and the sight of Jake's semen dripping off of his own cock and into your mouth had him feral.

"Baby, baby, oh yeah," he chanted, shooting his own load all over your face while he gripped your neck. You were smiling and licking him up as he grunted and bucked in your hand.

As Bradley's heartbeat started to calm, he watched you lick Jake's dick clean before focusing on his as well. You were a goddamn mess, white coating your face and dripping down your chest and onto your uniform. Your hair was disheveled, and you had shed a few tears.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Bradley stroked your forehead with his knuckles. "Baby, you're a mess."

"I'm your mess," you replied, licking cum from your cheek and looking between Bradley and Jake.

"Ours," Bradley whispered, nodding at Jake as he grinned.

"She's ours," he echoed with a dreamy smile.

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

Thanks for reading what had escalated into a scenario that I can't stop thinking about... Enjoy your sequel threesome @je-suis-prest-rachel

Read Why Not Forever?

@mak-32

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#top gun smut #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader x hangman #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #rooster x hangman #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #hangman imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangster

1K notes · View notes

topguncortez · 9 months

Note

This may be controversial but I have to speak my mind.

I don’t understand how we as a fandom decided that Jake was more likely the womanizer and f-boy. Bradley was the one who literally sauntered into the Hard Deck wearing a Hawaiian shirt (because he HAD to be different) and aviators (INDOORS) and then proceeded to unplug the juke box and play piano to work the crowd. Jake was just chilling playing pool with his best friend while wearing his cute little uniform.

And YEA Jake teased the other aviators as they came in, but it seemed to be more good natured ribbing than any true intended insults. ROOSTER was the one who took it too far and told Jake that he was gonna get someone killed. You can see the moment Jake’s face switches from light hearted to a defensive mask. :(

If there is a fuck boy in this situation, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t be rooster. He would LIVE off of the attention of women and would use the piano to take home a different girl every night. He probably has issues letting people in because of the loss of his parents and mav, I feel like he wouldn’t be the relationship type unless he finally decided to unpack all of that in therapy (*which is a wonderful thing and I think everyone should go)

no because it’s not controversial. i 100% agree with you anon.

Bradley for sure suffers from only child syndrome and gold-star child syndrome. he’s kinda used to being able to walk into a place and all attention is on him. he’s been able to get away with a lot pulling the “my dad died while in the navy” card (can very much see mav telling him to suck it up. he’s not the only kid who’s lost a parent). i also believe that bradley has a hard time sticking in relationships long term. i think he’s very much a one night maybe a couple nights type of guy.

Jake on the other hand, i think he has some very strong southern values installed in him. Not saying this man is a saint or he hasn’t had his nights where he takes a girl home and returns her calls the next day. But i do think Jake is more of the settle down type of guy. i also think he’s got a lot of respect for all women, not just his mom and sisters, but just women in general. (bradley pretty much just respects carole and phoenix)

now, i’m glad you brought up Bradley’s comment to Jake. Jake was just tryna do some good old fashioned teasing like we saw him do when Phoenix walked in and when Bob was finally noticed. However, it was Rooster who took it too far by mentioning leading someone into an early grave. and you could see everyone’s face change, not just Jake’s. Those words had a deeper meaning than just some rivalry smack talk and Rooster knew it. Now i think, because of that Jake bringing up Goose was warranted.

My fan theory has always been that Jake, Rooster and some girl were in a love triangle, something went wrong and the girl died. And Jake hasn’t ever really dealt with it, just kinda shelved it and moved on, but Rooster hasn’t ever forgotten.

#g mail #hangman #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin

127 notes · View notes

abbott976 · 23 days

Text

Take Her Name Out Of Your Mouth

Zeke sighed as he towelled off and began to dress. Wrestling practice had been brutal today. Coach was prepping them for their upcoming tournament on Kingshead Island and had been pushing them hard all week. But today was finally Friday which meant a much needed break and some time with his girl.

As Zeke began putting his dirty practice clothes into his duffel bag, his phone buzzed on his locker shelf with a text from Tina.

"Hey baby, are you still coming by the restaurant tonight after practice? I figured we could hang out after closing since it's Friday :)"

Zeke smiled as he punched out a quick reply, letting her know practice had just ended and he'd be heading over soon.

Just as he hit send, he felt one of his teammates approach him. Unfortunately it was Bradley, who was the biggest asshole Zeke had ever met. He was a bully at best and a borderline predator in how he treated the girls at school.

Zeke couldn't stand how misogynistic he was, with Bradley always talking about his latest conquest in the locker room. Zeke had told him on more than one occasion he needed to mind his manners and respect the girls he was with, but Bradley always shook him off.

Today, Bradley had decided to push Zeke's buttons once again.

"Ooh got your little girlfriend waiting for ya Zeke? Bet she'd love to see you after practice, huh?"

Zeke tried to ignore him. He knew he could easily take Bradley in a fight and didn't need to stir up trouble. But if he couldn't keep Tina's name out of his mouth, Zeke would make sure he'd regret it.

"You know Zeke, I kind of get what you see in her. I mean the quiet shy type are always the kinkiest in my experience. I bet she's a real freak in the sheets for you."

Without a seconds hesitation, Zeke turned and decked Bradley in the jaw. All Zeke saw was red as he threw Bradley against the lockers.

"You'd be wise to take my girls name outta yer fuckin mouth Bradley."

"Oh yeah? Or what?"

And with that, Zeke let loose.

-----------

"Hey Zeke, how was pract-- OH my God what happened to your face??" Linda all but screamed at him when he entered the restaurant.

"Hey Mrs. B. Don't worry I'm alright. Just busted my lip at practice. You know how Coach has been, what with the tournament coming up... He's been having us practice some new moves and one of the guys had me in a hold wrong, and I busted my lip on the way to the mat."

Linda studied him for a moment, and Zeke thought for sure she knew he was lying through his teeth. Zeke hated lying period, especially to the Belchers, but he hatrd the idea of Tina knowing what that jerk had said about her.

Just when he thought Linda was about to call him on his lie, she gave him a small half smile.

"Okay honey... how about you go into the kitchen with Bobby. Have him get you some ice for that lip, okay? I'll let Tina know you're here. She's upstairs helping Louise get ready for a date."

"Thanks Mrs. B"

Zeke knew that while Linda may have decided to believe his flimsy excuse, Bob would see right through him in a second. The moment Zeke entered the kitchen, Bob looked him up and down from the grill.

"So. I take it you got into a fight at practice huh?"

"....yeah."

"I got some ice on the counter for you. I set it out by the first aid kit. Looks like your knuckles could use some bandaging up."

"Thanks, Mr. B."

Zeke quietly washed his hands and began the process of bandaging his bloodied and bruised knuckles. Thankfully they weren't in too bad of shape. When he finished he put the first aid kit away and began to ice his lip, leaning against the prep station and waiting for the questions he knew Bob had for him.

"Do I even want to know what the fight was about, Zeke?"

"Probably not, considering it was about your daughter."

"You got into a fight over Tina at practice?? With who?"

Zeke sighed. "Remember that asshole I was tellin ya about last week? That Bradley kid who can't keep his damn mouth shut or respect any of the girls he runs around on?"

Bob stilled at this. "Yeah."

"Well let's just say he needed a lesson in keeping Tina's name out of his mouth. AndI made sure he learned it quick."

With that, Zeke turned, dropping his ice pack on the counter, and began to prep some tomatoes for tomorrow's special. Bob stood silent beside him for a long time as he grilled and plated burgers through the late dinner rush.

When Tina came downstairs a while later looking for Zeke, he turned to Bob, and quietly asked

"Mr. B...Think we can keep what I told you between us? I don't like lying to Tina but I don't want her to know what that ass said about her. I don't want to upset her over what he said about her."

Bob simply patted him on the shoulder, giving his silent nod of agreement. As Zeke began to walk out of the kitchen to greet his girlfriend, Bob called after him.

"Hey Zeke?"

"Yeah Mr. B?"

"Thanks for looking out for her."

#ZekinaWeek24 #bobs burgers #tina belcher #zekina #day6:bully #just a touch of misogyny but not for long

28 notes · View notes

stillsaltyaboutmcr · 1 year

Text

I will always be here for you-J.S

find parts 1-4 here

Warnings: Cussing, pregnancy, childbirth, rooster being sweet, jake being domestic af as usual, one big happy family, a plot twist oooo

this may or may not be the final chapter of this mini series. i haven’t decided how i wanna end this so i might make this the finale or i may continue. who knows?

Taglist: @emma8895eb @archetypesoflife @sarahjoestewy-blog @gizmodear @topguncultleader

sorry if i missed anyone!!

enjoy! it’s a longer one!

After finding out the gender of the baby, you and Jake had finally decided on a nursery theme. It was pink and tan with floral paintings on the walls. It was beautiful and made you almost emotional. You couldn’t believe you were now a week away from your due date and you had made it this far. Looking at the final product you called the baby’s room, Jake hugged you from behind, rubbing his hands on your very large belly. “It really is perfect isn’t it?”

You sighed, “It really is. Now all we gotta do is come up with a name.” Even though that was the only thing left on your to do list besides give birth, you had a lot more on your mind.

Since the baby shower, Rooster has been slowly showing a more sympathetic side of himself. While he hasn’t blatantly apologized, he has been doing small things to almost do it without the words ‘i’m sorry’.

You were just passed your 6 month mark sitting and waiting for Jake to get off work. You didn’t live far from where he was working at the time with the Dagger Squad, so you would walk there on Friday’s to see him come out all hot and sweaty.

It would be a miracle if you made it through the allotted time your doctor gave you after birth to not have sex. That man was asking for baby #2.

Bradley had come out first while you were waiting for Jake. He had seen you and changed the course of his path to come talk to you. “How’s the little girl doing?” He kept his arms at his side, as if afraid to touch you or move wrong and scare you off.

“She’s good, been kicking me a lot though.” You tried to muster out a laugh but you couldn’t. You couldn’t forgive Brad yet for what he did to you when you told him. You knew he was trying to make it up to you, but you couldn’t help but feel like he had an ulterior motive to his kindness.

“I wonder who she gets that from- I’m sorry.”

He looked to the ground. “It’s okay, but probably me.” He laughed and that was the first time you’d heard him laugh since your fling. It made you crack a smile and when he saw, his whole demeanor changed.

“There’s that beautiful smile. I miss seeing that.” You froze. What were you supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. You do have a beautiful smile though. I hope she has your smile too.” Again, what were you supposed to respond with?? “I’ll just leave, I have to take Bob home anyways. You look amazing, you’re glowing. Everyone here sees it. Ask around.” You smiled and thanked him and off he went to his Bronco.

That Bronco. It’s seen things.

Again, when you were 7 and a half months along, you were in the commissary getting some stuff for the house when you had ran into Bradley. He took notice of the large size difference of your bump since your 6 month mark. “I don’t mean this to sound rude, but she’s getting big.” He let out a breathy laugh.

You couldn’t help but return the laughter. “Yeah, I’m really hoping she doesn’t destroy me. She’s getting heavy and she’s not even born yet.” That caused Bradley to smile.

“Have you and Jake picked out a name?” You looked up at Bradley.

“Uh- we. No, not yet.” You swallowed hard. Something had Bradley’s mind turning, and you could see it all over his expression. “Brad?” He looked up. “Do you wanna feel her kick?” His eyes lit up but he was hesitant to reach out.

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I’ve been too much, I just feel-“ You interrupted him before he could embarrass himself and took his hand and placed it on your belly. Almost immediately as if your little girl knew who was there, she kicked- and HARD.

You let out a grunt and gripped your stomach and bent over a bit, reaching for your cart. “Are you okay?!” Bradley immediately went to your aid. One hand was on the cart to keep it steady, the other on your right shoulder. He was studying your expression, looking for any signs of relief or pain. You took a deep breath and made yourself upright letting out a chuckle. Bradley was still on you, looking for any confirmation that you were truly okay.

“I’m okay, she’s just never kicked me that hard. Knocked the wind out of me.” You looked up and noticed how close he was to you. You watched his eyes drift down to your lips and you felt a surge of nausea swirl in your stomach. You cleared your throat and he immediately gave you space.

“I’m so sorry.” He swallowed hard, face turning red.

“It’s okay. I gotta get going though before my frozens melt.” You gave him one last smile before heading down the isle to the checkout.

The time that really stood out to you though was just 2 weeks ago. You were at the doctor getting your checkup to see how your baby was doing and moving. You were in the waiting room when Bradley walked in carrying a sickly looking Javy on his shoulder. He talked to the nurse before she took him back, leaving you and Brad alone in the waiting room. He took notice of you and asked to sit down next to you.

“Javy came into work looking awful and refused to go home. I finally convinced him to come in when he threw up and the puke was green. I think he has food poisoning.” He let out a laugh at the expense of his friend.

“I’m just here to check up on our girl here.”

“Our?” Your eyes went wide as you caught your slip up.

“I mean technically-“

You started to correct yourself but he quickly fixed it for you. “You and Jake are going to be amazing parents. You guys are going to have a beautiful baby girl.” You suddenly felt a pang of guilt at his words.

“Brad.” You took his hand. “I know you aren’t active in the pregnancy and you didn’t want this baby to begin with, but it is OUR baby. You and me. We made this.” He looked at you and started tearing up.

“I’m so sorry. I panicked. I wasn’t ready and I didn’t know what to do. Then I saw how happy you were that you were pregnant and I realized that was what I wanted. I may not want to be a dad yet, but the way your as radiant as ever with that beautiful belly made me realize one thing. I want you to be happy, and if this makes you happy then I’m okay.” He took a ragged breath, “I know you and Jake are happy and that we take over that father role, and I’m okay with that. I’ll happily watch on the sidelines if that means I get to see you smile.”

You didn’t know what to say. Should you forgive him? Should you call his bluff and remind him of what he said to you? The way he made you feel?

“Brad-“

“Don’t say anything, I don’t ever expect you to forgive me.”

“But I do.” He looked at you with wide teary eyes. You nodded to confirm what you had just said.

“Thank you…please don’t feel obligated to make me a part of the baby’s life. It never has to know if you don’t want it to.”

“Can we try to be friends Brad?” He smiled and nodded.

“I’d like that. I can be Uncle Brad if you-“

“No. I think when she’s old enough, she should know. I’ll have to talk to Jake but, I think he’ll understand.”

Bradley froze in his spot. “I- really- please. Don’t feel like you need to do that just because I apologized.”

“I’ve been thinking it over since the baby shower Brad. I saw the way you looked when we discovered it was a girl. It broke my heart that you aren’t able to connect with something you helped create. This baby is equal parts of you and me, so shouldn’t it know both of its parents?” Bradley still hadn’t moved. “Brad, I’m serious. I asked myself, ‘if I was raised never knowing my dad and being told my stepdad was my real dad, how would I feel?’. The answer? I’d feel betrayed. I don’t want our child to feel that way.”

“Thank you.” It was barely above a whisper, and his voice sounded broken even at such a low volume. Before he could say another word, the doctor came out and called your name. You said your goodbye and waved and you hadn’t seen him since.

You hadn’t yet brought it to Jake and you didn’t bother texting Bradley as you didn’t have a solution yet. Gazing upon the room soon to be full of laughter and diaper changes, you knew in your heart it was the right thing to do. Even if Brad wasn’t always around, he deserved to at the very least meet her.

“Hey babe.” You turned around in Jake’s arms to face him. He looked at you with such admiration, it made it hard for you to say what you wanted to. You didn’t want to hurt Jake.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking about Bradley.” Jake’s face became one of confusion. “He is her dad and I’ve told you about how he’s been lately. I think he’s sincere and I think he deserves to at least meet her. If I grew up being told my dad was someone else and never knew my real dad I’d feel hurt. I don’t want baby girl to be hurt.” Jake sighed and nodded.

“I understand but I don’t know. How do we know he’s not just doing this to try to kick me out and weasel back in? What if he just wants to claim you and the baby for housing allowance? Time off?” Jake had a point, but you would never leave Jake. He’s done so much for you and always a drop of a hat.

“You know I would never leave you right? After everything you’ve done for me I’d have to be an idiot to walk away. Look at the life you’ve made for us. A cute adorable house, my comfortability during my pregnancy, and now a nursery for baby girl. You’ve given me safety and stability and pure happiness, Jake. I’d be a fool to leave you.” Jake smiled and planted a kiss on your forehead, staying there for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Can I sleep on it?”

“Of course. She’s not due for another week anyways.” You both grabbed the others hand and went downstairs to finish off your Sunday evening.

Monday morning came and as you woke up, you had peed yourself. “Shit.” It smelled and you were lucky Jake had already gone to work. You quickly got up to clean yourself before heading back to get the sheets washed when you nearly collapsed from unimaginable pain in your abdomen. “No, no, no, no, no. Not now!! You’re too early!! Fuck!!” You searched for your phone in a panic when the pain wouldn’t go away. You yelled out in pain and quickly dialed the first number you could get your hands on in your emergency contact list. The ringing hit your ears and you didn’t even wait for a voice as soon as you heard the line connect.

“My water broke! I’m going into labor!”

“Oh my god!! Shit!!” You recognized Natasha’s voice anywhere. “Oh my god!! Someone find Jake NOW!” Her voice was commanding as voices chattered on the other side. You groaned out in pain again before it subsided and you felt like you were going to pass out. “How far apart are your contractions?”

“I don’t know, I woke up and thought I peed but then I got this bad pain and it just now went away.”

“Shit shit- where is he?! Stay calm, grab onto something we’re getting you help-“ Another wave came on and you yelled out, nearly screaming. “Oh my god you’re not far apart. FIND HIM!!” Voices filled your ears, and you picked out Bob’s panic.

“I haven’t seen him all day! Coyote went to find him. Where’s Maverick?! He’ll know what to do!” You tried to giggle at Bob’s adorable voice. He was always cute when he was nervous, like a kid who had been caught eating halloween candy when he wasn’t supposed to.

You yelled out in pain again and Natasha’s words became faded. You heard her yelling and screaming at people before finally you heard ‘just give me the phone please’ followed by a calming voice.

“Hey, just breathe. They found Jake, he’s on his way to get you. You got this. Stay calm and focus on your breathing. Breathe with me.”

You knew it to be the one and only Bradley Bradshaw.

You yelled out again, the pain still not subsiding. You had no clue how long it had been since your water broke in your sleep, so you had no idea how long your body had technically been in labor. “Breathe in for four,” you took a breath in, listening to his voice. “One, two, three, four. Now hold it for four-“ He calmly and slowly counted you through each breath, a nice change of pace from Natasha’s yelling and you felt your body relax with each number. It felt like time slowed down as he spoke to you and you felt peace amongst the contractions. “You got it, keep breathing okay? Jake should be there any minute now. I’m sure he’s speeding like the devil to get to you. You’re gonna be okay. You’re so strong, you can handle this no problem.” He kept giving you encouragement as you felt another wave of pain. You gritted your teeth as you yelled, this one worse than the last. You felt your vocal chords ripping at the intensity of your scream, you didn’t even hear the door slam open downstairs.

“Hey, you’re okay! Breathe Y/N!! Breathe! Remember in for 4, come on do it with me!” Bradley’s voice distracted you from Jake’s yelling until you physically felt Jake around you. He was sweating, and he looked so afraid, you must’ve looked horrible to cause him such fright. “You got her?”

“Yeah I got her, thanks Rooster. Tell Maverick I won’t be back today.” He hung up the phone and grabbed the hospital bag and quickly scooped you up, practically running to the car.

You blinked and you were in a hospital bed with an epidural. The nurses and doctor were all in the room, Jake at your side gripping your hand and giving you little bits of motivation. In all honesty, he was more of a wreck than you were, you thought he might pass out.

Even with the medicine, you’d been in extreme pain, causing you to become dizzy and weak. You’d been at this for nearly 5 hours now and you were only 3 cm dilated. They gave you all they could to speed it up, and the doctor even said he’d suspected you’d been in labor for nearly 15 hours now including the morning.

“The head isn’t in position! If this baby drops, it’s gonna wrap the chord on its ne-“ Before you could comprehend what the nurse was saying, you felt a shot of pain and the heart monitor went out. All the staff jumped to remove you from your stand and get you to an emergency C-section. You started to freak out, you couldn’t lose your baby, and you didn’t want to die either. You were so scared and just when you needed Jake the most, he was told to wait outside.

The last thing you remember is the doctor telling you it’s gonna be okay before you blacked out from pain.

When you woke up, it was the next morning from the time on your clock on the wall. The TV was playing some cooking show really quietly and you felt incredibly weak. You could barely muster a breath, let alone move your head. You felt a hand on yours and you slowly tried to turn your head. To your left, Jake was in a chair, a blanket and pillow accompanying him. His eyes were red and puffy, and you assumed the worse. “I’m so happy you’re awake.” He leaned in to give you a soft and gentle kiss, which you reciprocated.

“What happened?”

He took in a shaky breath. “She wasn’t head down, and she caught herself in her umbilical chord and flatlined, when they got you back there you went with her. I was so scared that I would lose you both. After hours, they finally brought you back in here to me. You were fast asleep and so pale I thought you were dead. When they hooked you back up and I saw your heartbeat, I broke. You are so amazing, you know that? You are so strong and I love you so much.”

“But…what about? Baby girl? Did she-“ You were starting to breathe quickly and Jake was a blubbering mess. You assumed she didn’t make it due to your state of health. He went to speak when another voice appeared followed by a face to match.

“She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.” You followed to see Bradley. Your eyes widened.

“I didn’t know what to do, they wouldn’t tell me anything, so I called him. He helped me through it all. They wouldn’t even let me see her.” Jake leaned down to cry into your hand. You hadn’t even thought about that. Jake wasn’t your husband nor was he your child’s father. Of course they would only tell Bradley the information as the proven biological father.

“I took Jake up there to see her through the window. But only I was allowed to hold her after your surgery.”

“You were in there?”

“I came running as soon as I saw his name light up on my phone. I knew something was wrong. When I got here and they figured out who I was, they scrubbed me up and shoved me into the room to keep an eye on you if you were to wake up. They wanted you to have a familiar face there so you wouldn’t panic, but they only allowed the mother’s parents or the father of the child in.” You couldn’t believe he showed up.

You couldn’t believe Jake went to him.

“They pulled her out and I heard her cry-“ he choked back his tears. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. They cleaned her off and handed her to me, to get skin to skin while they stitched you up. She’s stunning Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

“What happened to me in there Brad?”

“It was horrible.” Jake spoke up now. “The nurse came out and told me Brad gave the responsibility to me to decide whether or not I wanted them to try and save you. Bradley gave me the choice. I couldn’t handle it.”

You looked to Bradley. “When she finally was born and they took her away ti be cleaned, all your monitors started going off. You were losing too much blood too quickly. They asked me the question and I couldn’t do it. Jake is your partner, so I thought it best for him to be the one to decide since he took the responsibility when I decided to leave you in the dust. Watching you bleed out on that table killed me. You became pale, your under eyes turning yellow. I thought you were gone.”

“But I’m not.”

“I donated blood for you.” Jake looked at you, attempting to pull himself together. “They wanted Bradley too but I was the only match for your blood type out of us two. So they took a ton of blood so you could be okay.” You tugged on Jake’s hand to give him a kiss. You wanted to cry.

“Thank you Jake. I don’t know where I’d be without you. I love you.”

“Don’t thank just me. As much as I hate to admit when I’m wrong, Bradley has changed. I remember wanting to get him sent on different orders for months. I wanted to tear him from the sky on every training exercise. Now, I owe him everything for what he’s done today.” Jake looked at Brad and extended a hand for him to shake.

“Bradley.” He turned to you and sat on the bed by your feet. You reached out with your other hand and grabbed his, Jake helping you sit up. “Thank you. I knew something had sparked in you the moment I saw you at the gender reveal. You’ve changed so much since I told you about our girl. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I wasn’t even there.”

“But you were when it mattered. You talked me through my contractions on the phone. The peace I felt when you calmly spoke to me was such a relief. You ran a snap of a finger when Jake called for you. You two hate each other!” All three of you laughed. “Both of you, I really am so greatly for you two. I couldn’t have done it without you. And Brad, I’m so glad to got to see her, hold her. I’m really happy you were there with me when Jake couldn’t be.”

Just then a nurse walked in. “Ah! Moms awake! How are we feeling mom?”

The nurse checked all your vitals and checked on your scar to make sure everything was normal. She said the weakness is nothing to worry about and that it will go away with time.

“Do you want to see her?” You nodded as she stepped out and returned in a bit with a clear bassinet. A swaddle of pink blankets lay in it. The nurse took her out and placed her in your arms, pulling your gown down for skin to skin.

“I’ll leave you be to soak it all in and have some privacy. I’ll come check on you in awhile. Congratulations.”

As she stepped out, you burst into tears. “Did you pick out a name?” You turned to Jake. “Either of you?”

“I did.” Jake spoke up. “It’s not official yet in case you hated it. Bradley doesn’t even know her name yet.”

“You have a name?” Bradley spoke up, clearly as clueless as you.

“I did. Her name will be Caroline Mae Bradshaw.” You and Bradley both shot shocked faces his way. “Caroline after your mother, Carol.” He gestured to Bradley. “Mae after your mother, Mary Mae.” He gestured to you. “I feel it only appropriate for her to take her father’s name. I don’t feel right giving her mine. So, she’s a Bradshaw.”

“Jake. You don’t have to-“

“I want to Bradley. She’s yours. I love Y/N and this beautiful baby girl with my entire being, but I did nothing to make her existence. It doesn’t matter if her creation was an accident. You still played a huge part without even knowing it and after all you’ve done for Y/N over the last few months, I think it’s only fitting.” You broke out into sobs. You were overcome with so much love and emotion you couldn’t handle it. Watching the two men in your life connect right in front of your eyes, getting something you never thought you would. You looked at Jake.

“Do you wanna hold Caroline then?” Jake nodded as he carefully took her from your arms.

“She really is beautiful, but I think you don’t give yourself enough credit Brad, look at her again.” Jake sat down next to you as Brad took the chair at the bedside. You all took a good look at her as she slowly began to open her eyes.

She may have had some of your defining features like the shape of your lips or the point of your nose, but her dark head of hair and beautiful deep brown eyes were all Bradley. She was a beautiful mix. She looked up at Jake with wide eyes, studying his face. “Hi prettt girl, I’m your stepdad. This is your mom,” he tilted her up a little so you could wave a coo at her, “and this is your dad.” He looked at Bradley, handed her over so he could hold Caroline.

“Hey peanut. It’s dad.” She let out a couple excited breaths at the sound of his voice and it caused you to laugh. “I think she likes me.”

“She better.” You chimed in.

You leaned your head against Jake as he wrapped his arms around you. “Why don’t you get some more rest okay? I think we got this. You need to gain your strength back so we can take you gorgeous girls home.”

You muttered out a small ‘okay’ as Jake adjusted you to wear he could hold you while you slept. “You take care of mom, I’ll take care of the little one.”

“Deal.” Bradley got up to go rock Caroline while Jake brushed through your hair with his fingers and quietly talked to you while you drifted off to sleep.

To an onlooker, it was a beautiful view. Bradley rocking his brand new baby girl, cooing at her and talking to her. You fast asleep after the accomplishment you made today and the hardship your body went through. Jake right there by your side, propped up on an elbow, fingers brushing your hair while he hummed softly to get you to rest.

Despite the differences between the three, they came together to make a beautiful family. A happy trio for one pretty special kid.

(a year and a half later)

You were hosting your first get together for the dagger squad since you gave birth. You and Jake agreed to give it a year for your recovery since you took your time regaining your strength. Bradley was often over to take care of Caroline so Jake could focus on you. You were sick for months after giving birth. In and out of the hospital for the first 4 months of Caroline’s life. Once you got better, you and Jake got a marriage license and you officially became Mrs. Seresin. You enjoyed the first couple months of your marriage in private while Bradley took over Caroline. So after a year, you were well and back to your normal self. But, Jake wanted to give it a few more months just to be safe, so here you are with an 18 months old and a new last name.

You had Caroline in a wrap against your chest while Jake was in the kitchen cooking. Bradley was setting up in the living room with Natasha and Bob. You had just gotten Caroline dressed and headed down the stairs as everyone started to arrive. You greeted everyone and Caroline babbled to a few of the pilots. She was quite fond of her Uncle Bob.

Everytime Bob was over Caroline just clung to him. If Bob set her down or stopped giving her attention, she started to whine. It was cute but poor Bob couldn’t catch a break. So today, she was glued to your chest.

You walked into the kitchen as Jake began plating the food. “Are you nervous?” He asked when he. priced you coke in.

“A little bit, but I think it’s all going to turn out.” He set the last plate down before grabbing your hand.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

You both walked into the living room where everyone was started to get drinks and catch up. “Lunch is ready but first we have something to announce.”

As Jake was talking you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a little white stick with a plus sign on it. You shouted, “We’re pregnant! Baby Seresin due i. 8 months!” You we’re already a month along, but decided to wait until everyone was together to announce it.

The room burst into hoops, hollers, cheers and congratulations. You looked to Jake as he kissed you.

“Don’t call me in a panic this time, because I won’t be able to to shit.” Bradley quipped as you all began laughing.

“Shit!” You all fell silent as Caroline said her first word.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You pinched the bridge of your nose as the laughter fired up again. With a little Bradshaw and a Seresin on the way, you were going to have your hands full.

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #bob floyd x reader #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader

201 notes · View notes

tgmsunmontue · 15 days

Text

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 4/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

He’s in shock.

He has to be.

Or he hit his head when he fell out of his car.

He didn’t fall, he was pushed.

Pushed out of his car.

By his car.

His car, that changed into a robot.

A robot that seems to be picking a fight with another robot.

One that had been a plane.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He thought he’d whispered the words, but it’s pretty clear he didn’t, because suddenly he has the attention of every… thing. The human standing there looks calm, like he’s used to the vehicles around him just transforming from one thing to another, and maybe he is. Maybe he’s used to it. How would Bradley know otherwise. Fuck. Does Maverick know all about this? Is it why he knew the Bronco would go with him? Keep him safe? Follow him around? Then a horrible thought occurs to him, that the car is maybe somehow keeping tabs on him for Maverick. Then the P-51 Mustang is looking at him, its hand beckoning him and he finds himself stepping forward.

“I think some introductions are in order. Bradley. Come here.”

… … …

“This is Bradley Bradshaw. My name is Sally. That is… Bronco. There was a previous name but we no longer use it. Dustdrift. Buzzsnarl. Ninja. Razorways. Flashtrack. Savage. Flatbot. Brushblades. Hyperhorn. Duneflash. Racer. Gloomstalker. Ironframe.”

Sally keeps going, and most of the other robots are smaller. Sally is definitely the largest, followed by Bronco, followed by about seven roughly the same size, which is human sized to Jake’s brain. The other human is… well. For a start he looks too young to be experienced with robots, but Jake doesn’t know anything anymore, maybe the guy is actually an alien. Or vampire. He got directed and carried here by a robot that changes into a plane. This guy looks even more spooked than Jake is feeling though, like he didn’t know that his car could change into a robot, and he guesses if he’d been driving around in a car that suddenly morphed into something else he’d probably look half-terrified as well.

“And your names?”

“Jake Seresin, and uh, I believe Starscream’s reputation proceeds him.”

“Decepticons are not welcome here!”

“Bronco! You do not speak for us here.”

The Bronco-bot looks pissed, if a car can even look pissed, but Jake tries to catch the eye of the other human, Bradley, because he sure as hell feels like he needs and wants company right now, especially if the bots decide to solve their aggression with actual fighting. His body is squishy and breakable, he doesn’t need to take on robots he has no beef with. He doesn’t actually think he’d want to take on robots he did have a beef with for that matter.

“And we have Jetfire in the back of the truck. I’ve been working on it, uh, him, since I was a kid. Recently learned about, all this,” Jake says, waving his hand in the air to encompass the forty or so robots. And he’s pretty sure that whatever Starscream is, all of the others are the opposite.

“Is that horse truck going to change?” Bradley asks, and his eyes are on it like he fully expects it to, which Jake has to say isn’t as far fetched as it might have been otherwise.

“I don’t think so? I mean, I’ve driven it here from Texas and I had to stop three times to put gas in it.”

“I’ve never had to put gas in the Bronco, so yeah, we’re probably good.”

“So… you live around here?” Jake asks, trying to keep the conversation going, because the other guy is clearly in the first few moments of realization and Jake remembers his own shock and disbelief well enough. It wasn’t that long ago.

“Uh. No. I did grow up around here. But home is Virginia Beach now.”

“That’s a drive and a half,” Jake observes and Bradley shrugs.

“He did most of the driving… nearly all of it in fact,” Bradley says, jerking a thumb in the direction of the Bronco, who somehow manages to look embarrassed, and Sally is crossing her arms like she’s displeased.

“Okay!” Jake exclaims, because he doesn’t need the robots fighting with each other, and he can sense the tension mounting as they all just stare at him and Bradley, like they’re waiting for them to make a decision. He has no idea what that decision might be though so he’s going to stall for time until it becomes more obvious. “So. Is there a bathroom I could quickly use?”

Sally’s eyes somehow narrow, but Bradley is nodding, telling him to follow so Jake does, and then he sees the other stuff. There are a couple more bikes, clearly not ones that change into robots, then a trailer and a row of lockers and so many photos. So many. Including plenty of Bradley, as a kid, a teenager, and then in a fucking flight school graduation photo and Jake does a double take. He quickly uses the bathroom and comes back out, glances at the photos again and notes the ticking muscle in Bradley’s jaw.

“You said you don’t live here?” Jake asks.

“It’s my godfather’s place.”

Oh. That makes more sense.

“And you’re a naval aviator. There’s a photo,” Jake says. Bradley nods sharply, doesn’t look pleased or proud that there’s a photo and Jake glances back again.

“I’m a naval aviator as well.”

“Really? Huh.”

“Hell of a coincidence isn’t it…”

“Uh. Well, Pete Mitchell is my godfather, and this is his hangar. So three times is a pattern right?”

“Captain Pete Mitchell? Like… Maverick?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“Wow. He’s like… an idol of mine.”

“Well, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, he’s just a human.”

“One that lives in an old Navy hangar and is surrounded by robots. That’s pretty fucking cool man.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if he knows about the robot thing.”

“Bradley! We have incoming!”

“Oh for… why is this my problem!” Bradley exclaims, but he’s running for the open door and Jake follows him. An old jeep is speeding toward them down the length of the airstrip, and it looks like an Army issue, but older. There is no-one in the driver’s seat, but there is a very pale faced passenger. The Jeep screeches to a halt and the door is flung open, but not by the Vice Admiral now climbing out. Jake has no idea if he knows about robots, but he sure as hell looks calm and collected, and the Jeep has to be just like the Bronco.

“Right. Who wants to tell me what’s going on here?”

He shouldn’t be surprised anymore, the Jeep transforms into a large fierce looking robot and he knows it’s a warrior, can tell by the way he, it, they is coiled and ready to attack, standing behind the Vice Admiral and Jake doesn’t even know what to do. He’s not in uniform, however everything in his training is screaming at him to salute, so he does, steps forward.

“Lieutenant Seresin, sir.”

“You’re not a civilian?”

“No sir. Naval Aviator.”

“Hmm. Oh.”

“Hey Ice.”

“Bradley. Good to see you. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Jake’s brain is spinning wildly out of control.

“Is this your god father?”

“No. This is Tom Kazansky. Iceman.”

“You… you call Admiral Kazansky Ice? And he’s not your god father?”

“Yeah. Sometimes Uncle Ice. Or Uncle Tom. Only use his title when we’re working, and we haven’t crossed paths yet, professionally,” Bradley says, and his expression isn’t exactly warm when he looks at their superior officer. Jake cannot believe he’s travelled across the continent with a transforming robot to only find warring robots and warring family dynamics. Fucking awesome. He should just turn around and go home. Except he really wants to meet Jetfire. Put them back together.

He turns then seeks out Starscream, who is standing there silently, arms crossed and looking grim and silent. It’s a sharp contrast to the sarcastic pushy personality he’s been on the receiving end of since Starscream first introduced himself.

“Admiral, let me introduce you to Starscream –”

“No! Nope. Not happening. He is staying over there and not moving any closer. You hear me?” the Jeep says, and Jake blinks, because he’d thought for a second that he was getting talked to, but the Jeep is very clearly talking to Starscream.

“Surprised you haven’t been broken down for parts yet Hound,” Starscream states and Jake rolls his eyes, looks heavenward and wonders if this is what parents of multiple children feel like when they argue. He chances a quick glance at Bradley and he at least is grinning, not even trying to hide his amusement.

“There are two warring factions. We call them transformers collectively, and there are the Autoboots and the Decepticons,” Admiral Kazansky states, and he’s looking between the larger group collected by the hangar door and Starscream.

“Let me guess, the Decepticons are meant to be the bad guys…” Jake says dryly, because he feels like this narrative feels familiar.

“All of us have forms we use to carry out deception. Hound is a jeep most of the time,” Starscream states, his eye narrowing and Jake rubs at his forehead, can feel a tension headache coming on.

“Also history is generally written by the victor, so I’m just going to ignore everything for now. What is Jetfire anyway?”

“Jetfire is…”

“An Autobot.” “A Decepticon.” “A scientist.” “A scout.” “In pieces.”

“My friend,” Starscream states, voice hard and loud over all the others and Jake nods.

“Admiral, I’m here from Texas because I have been working on the pieces of Jetfire since I was about ten years old. Not knowing they were a, what did you call them sir?”

“Transformers.”

“Right. Thank you. I wasn’t aware of this aspect until very recently, when Starscream turned up and I learnt that Jetfire has the potential of being… resurrected, as it were. And we brought them here. Because there’s someone here who can help.”

“Maverick,” Sally states and now Admiral Kazansky is looking like he’s sharing the same tension headache Jake has.

“Okay. Right. I need to make some calls. Just give me a moment.”

Jake listens in, the Admiral could move away from them if he wanted more privacy, and quite frankly Jake isn’t risking moving anywhere, a little worried all hell is about to break lose as soon as someone looks at someone else wrong.

“Maverick. You need to get out to the hangar. Right now.”

“Consider these orders.”

“No, I am not using my rank to… No! Just get out to the hangar as quickly as possible.”

“He’s on his way.”

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

22 notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter eight

summary: you and bradley spend three days in encinitas on your proverbial honeymoon and make a big decision about your relationship.

warnings: smut, fluff, minor angst, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: this is an exclusively rooster x whiskey chapter and gets a little smutty. this is the second to last part, so next chapter i'll wrap up the rom-com of these four. i'm going back to work and very much want to finish this nine chapter adventure before i do. however, i AM planning on writing a more extended oneshot that catches up with these guys a year and a half later so i'm definitely not done with these four.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

Friday

“Look at us! We’re almost normal,” you comment, optimistically as you breathe in the bright California air. Sometimes, when you’re on leave, you can almost trick yourself into believing you’re a civilian. “No one would know by looking at us that you just saved the world!”

“And almost died trying,” Bradley grumbles as a reminder the job you share is rarely ever that glamorous.

Bradley holds your hand in his as the two of you walk along the beach. The drive up hadn’t been long, but you’d been eager to go for a walk after arriving. Once you’d arrived, Bradley had barely been able to put his seabag down before you’d practically tugged him outside across onto deck, past the gorgeous private pool, and off to the beach.

“That’s what I mean! We’re not aviators this weekend. We’re not facing near-death today! We’re just… two normal people who don’t have to worry about deployments or fighter jets or top secret missions funded and backed by the pentagon,” you continue, celebrating the freedom you’re leaning into on this particular leave.

“Probably shouldn’t say that too loudly,” Bradley coughs, scanning the beach for any curious listeners.

“Ahhhh yes, you’re right,” you mumble, lowering your voice.

“But I like where this is going. We’re just… Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chimes in, playing along with you. “You know… the boring ones. Not like... the spy assassin ones.”

“Right, right. Because there’s a fine line, Bradshaw,” you fire back.

He laughs in response with a shake of his head, his eyes full of endearment towards you.

“Okay so… how’d we meet?” you ask, turning to steal a glance Bradley’s way.

“How does anyone meet these days?! On an app?” he answers, in his best well-duh tone of voice.

“No!” you cry out, giving his arm a little shake. He laughs again, giving your hand a squeeze in return. God, no one’s made him laugh this much in a long time. He shoots you a quizzical look as you clarify with, “C’mon! There’s no romance in that! No, we uh… we definitely had a meet-cute.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chuckles as he teases you, giving your hand another squeeze.

“Okay then. Tell me more about this meet-cute.”

“Okay hmmmm… so you’re…” you trail off, before letting the silliest, furthest away from reality thing tumble out of your mouth. “... a yoga instructor.”

“What?!” he yelps, his eyes widening at the ridiculous sentiment.

“And I'm… a chef who’s just recently moved to San Diego to open up yet another fusion restaurant gentrifying small surf towns across the nation,” you continue, making sure your faux-job feels just as silly as his does.

“Wait. Why am I the yoga instructor!? I can’t even touch my toes,” he backtracks, alarmingly.

You laugh, “Because it’s funny! And maybe the furthest thing away from what we actually do.”

“Okay fine. I’m a yoga instructor,” he grumbles, resigning himself to his new pretend-occupation. “But I’m not growing out a man bun.”

“No, the mustache alone gives you enough street-cred. Or rather, hipster-cred, if you will,” you reply, playfully.

“You like the mustache,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I definitely like the mustache,” you smirk. “In fact, that’s how we met. I spotted that mustache across the room in a coffee shop, made sure to let you know that, even though they don’t really do it for me, yours was pretty cool, which of course led you to inviting me to the yoga studio that you own.”

“Which was just an excuse to see you again,” Bradley adds, playing along.

“Exactly,” you giggle, as the story continues to grow more and more ridiculous. “… And well, you know what they say! The rest was history.”

“You are so silly,” Bradley chuckles, releasing your hand as he wraps an arm around your shoulders instead.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Bradshaw,” you giggle, your sliding around his waist. “Oh! That reminds me. We need to go to the grocery store.”

“I thought you said we could stay in bed all weekend,” Bradley challenges, his tone light.

“Fuel,” you shrug, coquettishly.

“Besides, I’m cooking you dinner tonight.”

“Well, you are the chef between the two of us.”

“Now, you’re catching on.”

It’s later that night that Bradley learns that while you gave him the job furthest away from reality, the possibility of you being a chef was a lot more probable. He watches you create a lemon-scented pan sauce, his mind wandering back to earlier when he’d been surprised by your knife skills.

“Holy shit! You really cook?!” he practically exclaims in the middle of the state-of-the-art home kitchen you’re occupying all weekend.

“Guilty,” you answer, as if it’s some kind of confession. “If I hadn’t gotten into the Naval Academy, I was going to go to culinary school. Just one psycho thing for the next.”

You coat the back of a spoon so that you can taste the sauce for seasoning:

Salt levels are good. Shallots are perfectly caramelized. Capers add the right amount of tang to it.

You scoop up another pool of the liquid in the spoon once more, offering it to Bradley.

“Come try this,” you say. “It’s a lemon chicken piccata. I think you’ll really like it.” You hold the spoon up to his lips, watching as Bradley tastes the lemon butter pan sauce.

As soon as the sauce hits his tongue, you watch as he closes his eyes, in total disbelief.

“Holy shit. This is un-fucking-real, honey,” he says, the term of endearment making you blush a little.

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

As you pull away, he pulls you back for another kiss before murmuring against your lips, “Though I think I like it better on you.”

Holy shit, is that hot.

As Bradley releases you, it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten to breathe. Your head feels light and you have to remind yourself to take a deep breath.

“I won’t distract you any longer. Sooner we finish up dinner, the sooner I get you naked,” he coos, his hands dragging across your hips as he pulls away.

Jeez, this man is perfect, you think to yourself.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

As you sit down to dinner with your lemon chicken piccata and a funky orange wine, you learn that Bradley can’t cook to save his life. You can’t believe that after two and a half weeks of the craziest of training, you’ve managed to find yourself on your proverbial honeymoon with a guy you’re quite sure is perfect. Sure, he’s got enough baggage to sink the USS Roosevelt, but you’re not sure you mind. He is, after all, who he is because of it.

He finishes telling you another story from his days at UVA and you’re caught in a fit of giggles as you watch how animated he gets as tells you about his college-day shenanigans.

“What?” he asks you, seeing the look on your face.

You know you probably look like you’ve got goddamn hearts for pupils at this point, so your answer is simple:

“The more I learn about you, the more I like you, Bradshaw.”

He blushes.

“I really like you too, Whiskey.”

Saturday morning:

Rooster Bradshaw thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

It doesn’t feel real.

As you stand there in the middle of the kitchen, clad only in his NAVY tee, it’s as if the domestic bliss he’s always craved is right in front of him.

This is all he’s ever wanted.

Bradley’s frozen for a second, paused in a moment in time. Ever since his mother died, there’s been a hole in his heart he’s never been able to fill – not with girlfriends, not with work, not even with himself. It’s this hole in his heart that yearns for a family – that allows himself to be taken care of, to be cherished, to be loved. But he can feel something, this feeling, swelling in his chest as he watches you make breakfast in the way-too-fancy home kitchen after knowing you for barely three weeks.

Now that he’s proven himself in the Navy, maybe he could begin healing his relationship with Mav. He could let himself open up to you. Maybe the part of his healing he’s been missing… is letting himself be loved.

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, but he figures it’s been long enough as you turn back around to him, sending him a curious look.

“Good morning, handsome. Coffee?” you greet him, with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen in his life.

And damn, he loves the way you look in his t-shirt.

“That would be great,” he answers, a lovestruck grin plastered to his face.

You hear the sounds of his footsteps before you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you in close to him from behind. You giggle, turning your head for a good morning kiss. Bradley’s lips are soft – a stark contrast from the rough texture of his mustache – earning another giggle from you.

You nod towards the french press on the counter that holds the coffee you’ve just made. There’s a second mug resting on the table that you pulled from the cabinets for him. He likes that you thought of him – thought to do that. He likes being thought of.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask, plating up two plates of eggs, bacon, sliced avocado, and a mix of berries you’d purchased yesterday.

“Great. How about you?” Bradley answers, a soft smile on his face as he watches you.

You wrap a hand around the edge of the plate while your other hand carries your coffee cup.

“Wonderfully. Why don’t you grab a fork and meet me out by the pool?” you tempt him, sending a wink his way before disappearing, heading towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck.

Instead of following suit, Bradley watches, taking this all in. He takes a few steps so that he can see you through the glass door. You sit down with your copy of today’s paper, while you snack on a few strawberries before picking up your fork to eat your soft scrambled eggs. Bradley swears under his breath, still in disbelief that this is real, before fixing his cup of coffee and taking his plate outside to join you.

“You know… I know we have the same one… but I think I like mine better on you,” Rooster says, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to the one you’ve posted up on.

You can practically feel your heart speed up, as you watch Bradley pop a strawberry into his mouth.

“Listen. I’m just relieved you own something other than the Hawaiian shirts,” you admit, a cheeky smile on your face.

“What’s wrong with my Hawaiian shirts?” he teases you with a wink.

“Absolutely nothing. But… it’s not like I can bring you as a wedding date in a printed shirt and jorts,” you tease him back, playfully.

As much as he likes to banter with you, he’s more focused on the fact that you’re thinking of ahead – thinking of the future with him.

“How do you feel about eventually making our way out to the beach today?” you propose, continuing with your breakfast.

“If we make it out… yeah,” Bradley replies, suggestively.

You smirk, “Well in that case, finish your breakfast. You’ll need the energy.”

You enjoy the poolside breakfast with him, handing him the sports section of the newspaper so that he can check out some of the baseball stats. You swap: the arts section for the sports section when he mentions maybe seeing if there’s a show you both could go to – making plans that you most likely won’t make anyways.

After breakfast, you pull Rooster’s NAVY shirt over your head, revealing your barely-covers-anything bikini you put on earlier.

“You wanna-?” you start asking, with every intention of getting in the pool.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing your hand.

Before you know it, Rooster’s thrown his empty breakfast plate on the small end table between both lounge chairs, pulling you back towards him. You follow, more than eager to explore exactly where this is going. As he pulls you down on top of him, you sit over his hips, just to feel how excited he’s gotten from seeing you in your bikini.

“You are such a tease,” he growls, bucking his hips up into you.

“I think you like it,” you smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his.

“Uh huh,” he answers, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Already, Roos?” you ask him, a devilish smile on your face as you grind your hips against him.

He hisses, pushing his hips up again as he answers, “Baby, you’ve had me this hard all weekend.”

You giggle, your lips finally meeting his, your tongues easily tangling together as your lips move in perfect time.

“I like these,” he says, his fingers dancing over your hips as works to untie your bikini bottoms.

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes filled with lust.

“Yeah,” he answers, untying one side completely.

Rooster sits up, flipping you over so that you’re now laying back against the lounge chair, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. Eagerly, he pulls your bikini bottoms off, tossing them somewhere on the deck as he covers your body with his in this new position.

“Rooster,” you moan, his mouth moving lower.

His lips and tongue are everywhere: your shoulders, your breasts, and rapidly making their way down your abdomen.

His hands pull your legs apart to make room for his shoulders as he watches you with a fire in his eyes. You know exactly where this is going, waiting impatiently for him to touch you. Bradley licks a broad stripe up your already wet heat, his tongue stopping to move around your clit as you throw your head back, his name on your lips.

“Bradley.”

“God, you taste so good, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, the hot sun kissing the both of you as he eats you out, right on the freaking pool lounge chair. He works at your clit, tracing little shapes around it as you moan his name, trying to remind yourself not to be too loud since your friends do have neighbors. As his tongue moves further down, his mustache bumping up against your most sensitive spots, your hands move straight into his brunette waves, bucking your hips up against his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cry as you feel him begin fucking you with his tongue. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You feel him smile against you, your words having unleashed something within him. From here forward, Rooster is relentless. He’s holding your hips down, pulling all kinds of sounds from your body as he continues to bring you heavenly pleasure with his tongue and his fingers.

“Fuck!” you cry, feeling that tight feeling in your abdomen as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yes. God, yes. I’m so close!”

And it’s all he needs to hear to do whatever it takes to get you to cum, pulling you past the point of pleasure you thought you could feel. You come with a strangle moan, and before you know it, Bradley’s folding his body over yours once again. He presses his lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him, earning a moan from him as you kiss him with desperation.

“I hope your friends don’t have cameras out here,” he chuckles, in between kisses.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease.

“Jeez, sweetheart. If that’s what you’re into….”

You were going to be the death of him.

And, he decides, what a lovely way to go.

Sunday:

“Bradley!” you gasp, feeling that all-too-familiar tightening in your abdomen, as Bradley winds you up.

“You gonna cum?” he grits out, his hips driving into at a rapid pace. “Go ahead. Let go for me, baby.”

“Yesyesyes,” you’re practically chanting as you feel him so, so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Bradley. I’m gonna-,” you pant, and he groans, feeling you squeezing around him. “Please make me cum.”

“God, I love it when you beg me. Shit. Holy shit, baby. Fuck,” Bradley grunts out, his face buried in the crevice of your neck. He whines your name so sweetly as he releases, finally stilling the motion of his hips.

Bradley lifts his head, still inside of you as he leans down to press a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Holy shit. How is it possible that it just keeps getting better and better?” you sigh, your back hitting the sheets as you catch your breath.

“I don’t know but… if we get any better at it I might go into cardiac arrest,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you.

“No!!” you cry out, dramatically.

The two of you settle into a quiet intimacy, as you turn over onto your side, wrapping yourself up in the sheets. Bradley notices a shift in you, but remains on his back as you prop your head up on your hand.

“I want to be with you,” you blurt out, causing Rooster to turn his head in your direction.

He can’t even hide the smile on his face as he hears your words.

“I want to be with you too, Whiskey,” he grins, his eyes as soft as the morning light.

“Oh thank god!” you say, letting out a sigh of relief, eliciting the most amused look from Bradley. But you pause, and he can tell that you’ve got something else on your mind as you continue with, “I just-, I guess I’m just wondering if-. Do you… think we’re moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, curiously, rolling over onto his side so that he can match your body language with his own.

“I don’t know…” you hesitate with an ambivalent shrug. “We haven’t known each other for that long. Is it… totally wild to feel this way about someone after only three weeks?”

Bradley takes a beat, his chocolate brown eyes warm and filled with confidence.

“Maybe. But stranger things have happened and… Whiskey, I-. I think I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time,” Bradley answers genuinely.

“I think so too. Is that crazy?” you reply softly.

“If it is, then at least we’re both in it together,” he reassures you, pulling you over to him so that you can cuddle.

“Okay.”

“What do you want to do today?” you ask him, shifting a little to something more lighthearted.

Like you’d predicted, despite every intention of doing so, neither of you had made it out of the house this weekend aside from the occasional beach walk and for dinner last night in Leucadia. Not that you were complaining. The hot non-stop sex-a-thon and staying up to talk till the early hours of the morning were absolutely heaven… but you knew at some point you’d both have to resurface.

“I think I might go for a run,” Bradley replies, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“You haven’t gotten enough cardio?!” you practically shriek in surprise.

He chuckles, “Can’t take too many days off or I’ll lose my stamina, honey. Wanna come with?”

“Hmmm… I think I may just stay here… take a shower. Unlike you… I’m not a psychopath,” you joke.

He laughs, “Okay, okay. Then how about when I get back, I’ll take you out to breakfast and we can go from there.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree with a totally lovestruck smile.

After a few more kisses, Bradley manages to unwillingly pry himself out of bed to get ready for his morning run. He’s right. You both have to return to reality at some point, and it’s not a bad idea to try to work in some of your routine before you’re back on base. You might’ve even agreed to go on a run with him, but selfishly, you’d like the alone time because you have to call Nat.

Once Bradley is out of the house, you slip a t-shirt left on the floor from the night before, hurrying into the master bathroom. You quickly FaceTime Natasha, praying that she picks up, considering this is the first time you’ve had a moment to call.

“Hey! Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you till you got back,” Nat says as soon as she answers the call.

“Oh my God, Nat. I am in love with this man,” you say, incredulously.

“Are you talking about Rooster?” she asks.

“Yes, of course I’m talking about Rooster!” you exclaim, with a laugh.

“Jeez, Whiskey. How much sex are you guys having?!” she teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You… don’t want to know the answer to that,” you answer honestly.

“You’re right,” she nods, her voice dropping. “I don’t. I guess I don’t even need to ask how it’s going then.”

“So well. Too well. I-, we told each other that we want to give this a shot. A relationship,” you fill her in.

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“I mean... Whiskey, I think he’s ready to settle down with someone and… that’s why I wanted to introduce the two of you so badly. Don’t overthink it. Chalk it up to good timing,” she advises.

“Okay yes, but do you think this is too fast?” you ask, nervously.

“It’s… fast, sure. But it’s not like you’re getting married or anything,” she reassures you, before pausing. “You’re-... not getting married-.”

“Of course not!” you interrupt her, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You know what the proverbial they say: when you know you know,” Nat adds, trying her best to offer up a little more reassurance.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to check in with myself. Make sure we’re being realistic, you know?” you vent. Truthfully, your hesitations have nothing to do with Rooster and everything to do with the fact that you haven’t chosen the best partners in the best. But Rooster? He’s near-perfect.

“Have you told him about your deployment yet?” Nat asks you.

You shake your head, “Not yet. I didn’t want it to be another thing to raise the stakes, you know? But I’m… I’m kind of nervous to.”

“Rooster knows how this goes. He’ll be fine,” she replies.

You nod slowly, “How are things going on your end?”

“Uh… good. Just waiting for you guys to get back before I head back up to LA,” Nat replies with the most casual tone in her voice. You eye her suspiciously, knowing that that can’t just be it.

“And Jake?” you ask, curiously.

“What about Jake?” she asks back, earning a funny look from you.

Okay, Trace.

If she needs it spelled out, that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Have you guys talked or are the two of you still just fucking each others’ brains out?” you rephrase, putting it bluntly.

Natasha rolls her at eyes at your crass comment before answering, “More so the latter,”

“Got it.”

You take a beat, not wanting to overstep, but then again this is the woman that quite literally parent-trapped you and Rooster.

“It would be okay, Nat… if you had feelings for him,” you begin, cautiously.

“Whiskey, I don’t-,” but she can’t finish the sentence. She knows she can’t finish that sentence because it would be a lie. And when has she ever been able to bullshit you? If anything, you’re the person who knows both her and Jake the best.

She takes a beat before opening her mouth to say something else, “I don’t know if I’m ready. For that.”

You nod slowly, “And that’s okay too. You’re just gonna have to tell him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs, dissatisfied with the resolution she’s come to. She changes the subject and you talk about a few other things. Who else is going on the next deployment from the Dagger Squad. Having lunch solo with Halo. That Maverick and Penny seemed to be a thing.

“Hey uh… I gotta run but, we’ll talk. When you’re back,” Natasha says, as she realizes what time it is.

“Yeah of course,” you agree.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she smiles, signing off.

“Bye, Nat.”

You take a breath after hanging up the phone with Nat. Maybe you wish that she and Jake could just figure it out, but you also know that they’re not exactly those people. They’re actually the most stubborn people you know. You run the shower for a minute or so, waiting for it to come up to temp before stepping in, letting the water help you think through things.

You and Bradley were different. Both of you were looking for something – a relationship – and had found a connection with each other that felt good. It felt right to be with him, even if the idea of falling in love with him terrified you – even if it felt like the two of you were on the fast track. But Jake and Natasha? You’ve always felt like they were more similar than either of them would admit. They’d have to really want it, really want to be together to make it work, and it doesn’t seem like either of them are there yet.

You finish up your shower, enjoying a little you-time before Bradley gets back. You haven’t exactly had that much since you got here, but you know you’ll have plenty when you return to Lemoore. After shutting off the water and drying your hair as best as you can with just the towel, you wrap a second towel around your body before heading back into the bedroom.

Only, you see something you’re not expecting – something you weren’t quite ready for.

“Bradley…” is all that comes out of your mouth as you see him.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tanned skin glistening from his run while he holds loose papers in his hands.

Papers.

Those papers.

Your papers.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asks, looking up from your deployment papers.

“Bradley. I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice shaking a little.

You take a few steps towards him, stopping so that you can sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I don't know…” you answer, honestly. “I guess I just thought-. We've clouded our judgment with hot sex all weekend….” You laugh nervously. “... and all of this has just been so intense – between the mission, and you almost dying, and… – I didn’t want my deployment to change the outcome of this weekend.”

You wait for him to answer, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he listens to you. You’re right. The parameters of the mission, your hookup, all of it has been so high stakes. He’d be a fool to deny it. But it doesn’t change how crazy he is about you. He thinks he’d feel this crazy about you if he met you in the supermarket, not in training for a suicide mission.

“I understand,” he says, his voice low as he turns to you. “But I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have changed anything for you?” you ask, stealing a glance his way.

“No,” he reassures you, his voice softening. He slips an arm around your bare shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “I just-, I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d have more time before we had to deal with… all of this.”

You nod, “I know. I should’ve told you earlier.”

“You still want to do this?” you ask again, with a nervous flutter in the bottom of your belly.

“Yeah, of course,” he admits with a smile. “But it’s not going to be easy and… I guess… these papers just reminded me of that.”

You turn your body towards him so that you’re facing him, no longer sitting side by side. Bradley runs his fingers through your wet locks, eventually moving to cup your face. There’s a sadness in his eyes and you can see that the reality of your jobs has set in.

“I kinda wish I was still a yoga instructor and you were some hot shot chef,” he chuckles, trying his best to make light of the situation.

“Me too,” you agree. “It’ll only be a month. And… then maybe once Cyclone has all the data he needs… they’ll make our detachment official. We-... won’t have to be apart.”

Bradley nods, “Yeah. We’re gonna figure this out together, sweetheart. I know it.”

You smile in response. How is this man real?

“How can you be sure?” you ask him, hopefully.

“I can just feel it,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. He touches his lips to yours before pulling back to ask, “What would you say to getting back in the shower?”

You smirk, “Lead the way, handsome.”

read: chapter nine

#call sign tennessee whiskey #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x phoenix #hannix #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix top gun #rooster x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin #top gun maverick smut #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw smut

156 notes · View notes