#miles teller x you

[warnersister]

Newborn Days

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Moments with his wife and newborn son

Bradley looks out through the window in front of him, sat upright in the bed, back against the headboard as he watches the sunrise. The two of you had booked a small cabin on the beach for a few weeks, just while you got your feet here in Miramar. Bradley’s grasp held you closer, he drew his eyes away from the growing horizon and down to where you were sat in his lap. Your head was dipped as you allowed your little baby boy to have his breakfast; eyes closed while he nursed gently on your swollen nipple. Bradley’s heart swelled with love as your tired eyes looked back at him, rocking gently to soothe your new son. He offered a small, loving smile as he leant to kiss your forehead.

He could get used to this.

[basiccortez]

Best Actress | A Miles Teller Fanfic

synopsis: you get nominated for your very first Oscar the same year your husband's movie gets nominated

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none:) fluffy shit

When the nominations came out at the end of January, you couldn’t believe it. You had actually been asleep, just coming home from finishing up a press tour in London for your latest film. You had been counting down the days until you could join your husband back in bed in your home in California. Miles had promised you a quiet morning in, just the two of you getting reacquainted with one another, however, he had different plans. 

The Oscar buzz had been in the air for weeks, as he was awaiting to see what awards TopGun was going to be nominated for. He didn’t think that the film was going to have as successful of an award season as they had been having. Hell, he didn’t think the movie was going to be as big as it was, period. He had woken up before you, and was sitting on the back porch watching the sunset, refreshing his twitter feed every forty-five seconds, when he saw the Best Actress nomination pop up. He nearly spit his coffee halfway across the backyard as he quickly ran up to your room, and all but jumped on the bed to wake you up. 

“Best fucking Actress! Baby, you got fucking nominated for best fucking actress!” 

You could hardly understand him as he was shaking you awake, his voice full of excitement. It took you several moments to realize what he was talking about, and your agent called you to tell you the news that Miles had already broken. 

“Best fucking Actress, Y/N. You got nominated for best fucking actress!” 

You broke down in tears as Miles held you in his arms and placed kisses all over your face. You had been along for the ride this award season, feeling the honor of being nominated and winning a couple awards. Your name had been mentioned a couple times during the Oscars talk, but never did you think that you would be nominated. You were still relatively new to the movie scene, this film has been your breakout start. The world couldn’t get enough of you, calling you the next ‘Hollywood Sweetheart’.  

“The Oscars,” You mumbled after you hung up with your agent, still not believing a single word that had been spoken in the last hour. You. Nominated. For an Oscar.

“The fucking Oscars,” Miles mumbled against your skin, “You did it, baby.” You blushed and turned to face your husband. You let out an excited squeal and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to lay back down in bed next to you. He chuckled and ran his hands down your back, as you intertwined your legs together. You brought your lips up to kiss his soft ones, your hands tangling in his brown curls. Ever since he got his role in ‘The Gorge’ he had been growing his beard out, and you actually liked it. You thought that the ‘Rooster’ stache had driven you crazy, this beard was a thousand times worse.  

Miles hummed against your lips as he easily moved so he was on top of you. You were in just one of his shirts, so he easily slid his hand up your bare thigh and hooked it over your hip. 

“We should celebrate,” He said, placing kisses on your lips. 

“How so?” You let out a moan as he nipped at your skin. 

“I can think of a few ways. . . both of them require very little clothing,” His hand had barely touched your rib cage when your phone rang. You groaned and looked over to see who it was, immediately pushing your husband off of you, “Hey!” 

“It’s Glen,” You said, and Miles rolled his eyes. You swiped to answer the call, “Hel-” 

“BEST FUCKING ACTRESS!?” 

— — — 

The last two months had been a whirlwind. You had interview after interview lined up after the Oscar nominations had come out. You were in New York in the morning, and LA at night. Miles felt like he had hardly seen you at all. It even got worse when he moved to London to start shooting ‘The Gorge’ and you stayed in LA, working on a new project. He missed you like crazy, and called you any time he could. 

You were up early. Earlier than you needed to be but the nerves had started early. You sat on the small balcony of the hotel, watching as the sun rose over the waves. Today was the day. The day that you had watched on TV for years, and dreamed of what you would say if you ever won. You were running through the list of people to thank in your head, but you knew that you’d probably miss someone and get a text about it later. Miles was still fast asleep in bed, his bare back on display and the sheet hiding his modesty. He had flown in two days ago, and he had hardly let you leave the bed. You bit your lip as the memories of the night prior filled your mind. The touches, the kisses, the words that were said.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up from your chair and walked back into the bedroom. Miles stirred slightly as you pulled the blankets back and climbed back in next to him. He turned on his side to face you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you back against his warm chest. 

“Sleep,” His voice was raspy, “Need it.” 

“I have my sleep schedule back to normal,” You said, and placed a kiss on his bicep tattoo, “Too nervous to sleep.” 

“Don’t be,” He sighed, and tried to pull you even closer to him, “You will be amazing. You’re always amazing. That’s why I married you.” 

“I thought you married me because I like Kyle Schwarber.” 

“That’s an added bonus,” Miles chuckled, “But I also married you because you’re beautiful, talented, smart, caring, kind, amazing, and I love you.” 

You turned your head back to look at him, his brown eyes open. You could see the different strands of green that were mixed in his irises, “I love you too,” You pecked his lips for settling back in his arms for a couple more winks of sleep. 

— — — 

The carpet was at five, and your glam team had shown up at noon to start getting you ready. Your agent, Amanda, was right there the whole time, helping call the shots. You hardly knew a thing about makeup other than how to put on foundation, eyeshadow, mascara, blush and lip gloss. Most days you weren’t wearing makeup at all, either too tired or didn’t care enough to put it on when you were doing something like going to the grocery store. Miles was getting ready in another room, since your team was taking up most of it. 

“You said you wanted something classic,” Leo, your stylist said, “Very old Hollywood, nothing too eye-catching. I feel like we’ve had a good run this award season. We are yet to make the worst dressed list, and the tiktokers agree,” You giggled and sipped your tea as another stylist was doing your hair, “So, I decided on black, and ball gown-ish. Can never go wrong with a good black dress.” 

You stood up from your chair and walked to the garment rack full of black dresses. Your fingers skimmed over the various fabrics, halfway listening to Leo explain about the dress. It wasn’t until you got to the last one that you gasped and looked over at Leo, who had a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh, I’m damn good at what I do,” Leo praised himself and grabbed the dress from the rack and held it up, “Valentino, classic ball-gown, off the shoulder, a train for days.” 

“That’s the dress,” You smiled and bit back a childish giggle as you sat back in the make-up chair and let the professionals do their job. 

Leo helped you into your dress and zipped the back of it. It fit just right, hugging your curves and pushing your breasts up just right. Your hair team decided to put your hair up to showcase off your neck and collarbones. Leo had given you a gorgeous diamond choker to wear, making sure not to take away too much from the top of the dress. There was a slit in the dress which would showcase the black Louboutin, which was going to match Miles’ dress shoes. You were finishing up putting in your diamond stud earrings that had been a gift from Tom Cruise on your nomination, while Miles walked in and let out a low whistle. 

“Holy shit,” He said, “I thought you were perfect on our wedding day, I didn’t know it only got better.” 

You blushed and looked over at him, “This is okay? It’s not like. . . bad is it?” 

“No, sweetheart,” Miles walked over to you and gently lifted your chin up to look at him, “I don’t wanna be a cliche, but you take my breath away,” You playfully rolled your eyes as he laughed at his own pun, “But you are beautiful, breathtaking, there’s nothing else like you on the planet.” 

“You flatter me, Mr. Teller,” You put your hand on his chest, leaning into him. 

“Just doing my husbandly duties,” He smiled and kissed your lips quickly, knowing how you felt about smudged lipstick, “Now come on, we are going to be late.” 

You took a deep breath and took his hand, letting him lead you out of your room. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you stood in the elevator, his hand on your hip and him standing behind you. He was humming the melody to ‘Take My Breath Away’, drawing small circles over the fabric. He knew you were nervous, it was like his sixth sense. No matter how many carpets and premieres he’s dragged you to over the years, you still felt that ball of nerves in your stomach. 

The drive to the Adobe theater made you want to throw up. The second you pulled up, you could see the fans gathered around start to whisper to one another about who had arrived. You gulped and felt your hands begin to shake as cameras and phones were pointed towards your car. Miles reached over and grabbed your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Is it too late to decline?” You asked, your voice shaky. 

“Yes,” Miles said and you gave him a look, “I know you’re nervous,” He leaned over towards you, talking low, “but sweetheart, you got this. This is your night. I’m just the arm candy. You are the Oscar Nominated Best Actress. . . I’m just some dude who grew a mustache and did a shimmy on the beach.” 

“Should win an oscar for that scene alone,” You joked and Miles cracked a smile. 

“There’s my girl,” He said, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your diamond ring, “Now, let’s go so the whole world can see how stunning you are.” 

You nodded and Miles got out of the car first, fixing his tie and jacket, waving to a couple fans who yelled his name. You closed your eyes, taking in a few slow deep breaths, as the door opened. Miles smiled at you and held his hand out for you to take. You mouthed a thanks as you carefully stepped out of the car. Much like on your wedding day, Miles was careful of the train of your dress, lifting it in his hand so it didn’t drag on the ground until you got to the red carpet. The fans standing by yelled and screamed your name, and you turned to wave at them as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the theater. The second you stepped onto the beige carpet, Miles let go of your train, but made sure to spread it out. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him as he stuck his tongue out a bit as he spread the fabric. 

“What?” He asked, looking at you as if you were the only one standing in the room. 

“Nothing,” You smiled, and held your hand out for him to take. He walked up and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and kissing them as you made your way towards the first stop of pictures. 

Miles went first, giving his best smoldering look at each of the cameras. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved from side to side, looking at the various cameras. The director of the carpet nodded for you to start your walk. You held your hands together, fiddling with your ring as you got to the first red X on the carpet. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders back, looking at the photographers yelling your name. Miles stood off to the side and watched you. You were so effortlessly beautiful and confident getting your picture taken. He swore you did not have a bad angle. He could watch you all day stand in front of a camera. 

“Miles! Come get next to your wife!” One photographer yelled and he nodded, going over to stand by you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, settling his hand on your hip. 

You felt more comfortable having your husband behind you, like a strong wall holding you up in the storm. You relaxed a bit more, your true smile coming out instead of the fake one you had perfected from years of standing next to Miles at premieres. When you were done having your picture taken, he guided you to the next stop on the carpet which was the various interviews. Your friend Vanessa Hudgens smiled brightly at you and waved you over while Miles went to do an interview for Entertainment Tonight. 

“Darling, look at you!” Vanessa said, giving you a hug, “How do you feel about not only your husbands, but your nominations tonight?” 

“Oh boy, where do I begin. . .” 

As the award show dragged on, the worst your nerves seemed to get. You and Miles were sitting next to Jennifer and her husband. The rest of the TopGun cast sat behind you, Tarzan having quickly come up with a drinking game like he always does. Lewis was texting Glen updates on winners. They had won one award so far, and were by far the loudest in the room when the sound team stepped up on the stage to receive it. 

When the announcer announced the next presenters, it felt like pterodactyls had just been launched in your stomach. Your hands grew sweaty as you pulled your palm away from Miles’ to wipe the sweat away. He grimaced and grabbed your hand again, holding it tightly in his. You looked at him, your eyes wide with anxiety and nerves. He smiled at you and leaned down to place a kiss on the side of your head. 

“I love you,” Miles whispered, “You are spectacular, and amazing, and I can’t believe I get to sit here next to the Oscar nominated best actress.” 

You looked at your husband and nodded, a smile easing on your face. You sat back in your chair and listened as the nominees were showcased. When your name and movie were presented, you could hear your friends around you stand up and start cheering. You turned red as Tarzan let out a whistle and Jay had to grab his suit coat to pull him back down in his seat. 

“And the winner is. . .” 

You felt like you could throw up. You closed your eyes and held Miles’ hand tightly in your own, as you heard the winner be announced. You opened your eyes and looked towards the front of the auditorium, where Michelle was sitting, a giddy smile on your face as you clapped for her. You stood up with the rest of the crowd, giving Michelle a standing ovation as she accepted her award. When you sat back down in your chair, it felt like you could breathe again. 

The second you got to the afterparty, you lost sight of Lewis, Tarzan and Danny as they went off to go get drinks. Monica had found some old co-stars, and Jay was talking with his wife. You had a smile on your face as you watched your fellow castmates congratulate other actors on their awards. A glass of champagne was placed in front of you and you turned to see your husband standing next to you. He kissed your temple again, and put his arm around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” He said. 

“Cause I didn’t win?” You asked and he nodded, “I didn’t deserve to win. I was in a tough category against legends. It was an honor to even be talked about to be perfectly honest.” You looked up at your husband, “Just gives me something to work towards next year.”

“You amaze me,” Miles kissed your perfectly painted red lips. You hummed into the kiss and scratched your nails along the scruff on his cheeks, “Now come on! I want to dance with my Oscar Nominated Best Actress.” You giggled as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor.

NOTE: this is a work of fiction. All scenarios, and relationships are made up and constructed in a fictional realm. Any hate of any kind will not be tolerated.

tagging some people who may enjoy: @fanboygarcia @topgun-imagines @sunlightmurdock @seresinsbabe

if you want to be tagged in more RPF let me know:)

[thewulf]

Hi! Not sure if you accept requests for celebrities but figured I’d send it anyway!!! Would you be able to do a miles tellers reader where they meet in San Diego while he’s filming but she doesn’t recognize him at all and doesn’t know he’s in a relationship and is having issues. But they somehow end up together??

Thank You Kind Stranger || Miles Teller

A/N: This was a fun one! Def made me step out of my comfort zone. Sorry it took so long. I have a class that just started up, so I’ll be posting a bit slower. Hopefully you enjoy 😊

Pairing: Miles Teller x Y/N

Word Count: 5,500+

Stepping out of your apartment you took a deep breathe in, enjoying the salty air you had come to love. You weren’t originally from San Diego, but a job offer and a few years of living in the city you had officially called it home. You had always dreamed of living near the beach. Growing up, your family would take a beach vacation to somewhere new every year. You grew to love these vacations and associated the beach with some of the happiest times in your life. Always seeing yourself on the coast you never dreamed of ending up in San Diego, nonetheless you loved it.

You found yourself an incredible group of friends. It took a while, but you weaseled your way into their group. They took you in like the stray you were.

Your only issue with the city was how crowded it always was. You thought you knew what you were getting into moving to a tourist destination, but you were sorely mistaken. Places that should be five minutes away take at least twenty to get there. It was an adjustment. One you were still trying to figure out.

Your solution to this problem was to do your weekly errands at the weirdest times. That’s how you ended up in a grocery store at 11 PM on a Saturday night shopping for your weekly essentials. Headphones in you started browsing up and down the aisles only grabbing what you needed.

Everything was going smoothly up until you made it to the flour. Frowning, you realized the only flour left was on the top shelf all the way in the back. One of the drawbacks of shopping at this time? The shelves were never fully stocked. It was a give and take but for your sanity it was worth it. You needed that damn flour too. It was in almost all of your recipes for the week.

Looking up and down the aisle you made sure the coast was clear. Your first attempt was to jump and reach which ended in abysmal failure. Huffing you took a step back trying to reevaluate the situation and come up with a better solution. You realized your only two options were to either climb the shelves or to find an employee. You certainly weren’t going to go find an employee to ask, that defeated the whole purpose of shopping this late.

So, you opted to scale the shelves. Carefully you stepped on the bottom shelf making sure not to crush any of the food in your way. Still, you were too short to reach. Just before you were about to take the next step up you heard somebody clearing their throat from behind. Shit. You’ve been caught.

Realizing you probably looked like an idiot standing frozen on the grocery store shelf you slowly peeled yourself away. Gaining courage, you finally turned around seeing a strikingly handsome man standing there looking at you with an amused expression.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Smiling sheepishly at the man you rubbed the back of your neck out of sheer embarrassment.

“No?” He questioned before continuing, “It looks like you were trying to reach the flour?”

You continued smiling at him, this time your eyes going wide, “Well, it’s exactly what it looks like then.”

“Need some help?” He asked walking closer to you. He towered over your shorter frame. Damn, he smelled good too.

“Actually, I prefer to climb the shelves.” You wanted to continue the conversation, something very unlike yourself. That was why you were here at 11:30 at night, avoiding people.

He snickered, “You sure about that? Didn’t look like you were going to make it.”

“I’ll have you know…” You paused seeing how far back the flour was, you’d have to climb to the fourth shelf to get it. You needed his help. He had almost a foot on you, “I was definitely not going to be able to get it. I would love some help.” You grinned trying to play it off as cool as possible.

You finally got a good look at him when you turned back to admit defeat. He really was quite handsome. With dark curly hair topped with a pair of aviators he nodded, still chuckling at you, before going to get the flour for you. Curious, a pair of sunglasses this late at night. You wondered about the mustache, wasn’t too often a guy your age had one. It worked for him though.

It took all of your willpower not to ogle him as he stretched to reach it. You swallowed hard seeing how fit the man was. His arm muscles contracted as he brought the sack of flower down from the shelf, you tried looking away but were sure you had gotten caught staring. It wasn’t every day you came across a kind and handsome stranger man, your stupid brain just had to stare though.

He handed the flour to you with a smirk dancing on his lips, oh he definitely caught you staring, “Thank you kind stranger!” You gleefully took the flour from him ignoring the obvious tension, “You saved me from starving this week.”

He looked at you curiously when he handed it to you, not responding to your casual conversation.

“Well, thanks.” You tossed it into your cart getting ready to walk away, you never knew how to keep these conversations going.

“I’m Miles.” He stuck his hand out to you looking almost hopeful. Like he too wanted the conversation to continue.

Nodding you took his hand gently, “Y/N. Nice to meet you Miles. What brings you to the grocery store this late?” You asked, attempting to keep the conversation light. You were never very good at flirting with guys. Feeling stupid when they never flirted back with you, you often just simply opted for regular conversation.

Growing up with a house full of boys didn’t set you up for the success you thought it was. With two brothers and all of your cousins being boys, you didn’t have the girls needed to balance everything else. So, you grew up a true tom boy. It was the only way you knew hope to cope growing up around all boys. You constantly got shit for liking girly things, instead of dolls you opted for Legos. You just wanted to fit in with them.

You loved your childhood though. You were truly carefree, having the best of times running through neighborhoods like the hooligans you were. It was a blessing and a curse though. You were comfortable around men you just didn’t know how to flirt with them. Something you thought you’d pick up throughout the years, yet it never seemed to come naturally to you.

“Y/N.” He repeated under his breathe continuing to observe you. It wasn’t intense but you noticed, he was watching you for something, “What do you do?”

 “I’m a zookeeper. Work at the San Diego Zoo.” You answered him without skipping a beat.

“Really?” He perked up, fully peaking his curiosity now.

You nodded excitedly, “I work with the big cats. Mostly the lions, sometimes the jaguars and cheetahs.” People often found your work interesting, but Miles looked fascinated.

The two of you began walking down the next aisle, immersed in the conversation that had just begun, “Super casual.” He spoke admiring how calm you sounded about it all.

You shrugged picking up a box of cereal, “They’re gentle giants. I think my kitty at home is more of an asshole than the cats at the zoo.” You grinned thinking about your kitties. You loved them, more than people most of the time. They really were gentle giants, big sweeties.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

You laughed this time, “House cats are rude. But so funny. I wouldn’t ever dare live without one.” You stopped grabbing some oatmeal realizing he wasn’t exactly shopping like you were, “I’m sorry Miles, you don’t have to shop with me. You don’t look like you were prepared.” You pointed to his basket instead of a cart.

“Don’t sweat it. This is the first interesting conversation I’ve had in a while.”

Smiling you continued, not letting your self-consciousness stop you now, “Alright, what do you do?”

He paused for a brief second looking a little panicked, “I work in the film industry.”

“What?” You stopped looking him up and down, “Now that’s cool! Not that cats aren’t cool. They’re really actually quite neat animals. But that’s… cool.” You wanted to facepalm yourself for your inability to flirt.

“Shoot, I’d argue taking care of a lion is far cooler than what I do.”

“They don’t talk back which is nice.” You answered nonchalantly wanting to know more but he clearly wasn’t willing to share. You were thrilled he thought you were interesting enough to talk to though. You did not want to push him, so you decided not to dig.

He gave you a genuine smile, a beautiful one at that, “But they could eat you.” He countered.

“You’re not wrong about that one. My cats are far too lazy to even try it though.” You stifled a laugh thinking how Izu, your male lion, made you bring him his dinner the other day instead of going to go get it. They’re pampered, spoiled rotten babies but you love them with your whole heart.

“Your cats?” He questioned. He was digging for more, maybe you’d try a little harder later when he wanted to share.

You hummed in agreement with him, “Izu and Mallie. Brother and sister. We got them a few years back as cubs. I got to bottle feed them and all. Their mom was killed in an accident, and they needed a home. I’m just closer with those two than I am the others. I got to bond with them when they could sit in my lap.”

Miles was an attentive listener letting you ramble on about your job. To be fair, he had asked you a million and a half questions about the job. And you sure did love talking about it, so he let you. He found you extraordinarily fascinating. Even more fascinating to him was that you seemed to not have a damn clue who he was. He found that refreshing, so damn refreshing. You were talking to him like he was just another guy off the street.

You were pulling him in, and you hadn’t even realized it. By simply treating him like a normal human you had broken down a long standing wall he often never let crack. Miles couldn’t believe how normal a conversation with a pretty girl could be.

Truth be told. His ‘relationship’, if that’s what you could even call it, was in utter shambles. He started hooking up with a coworker on set from a previous film with no intentions of actually dating her. His publicist caught wind of his plans and essentially tied his hands and made him maintain a relationship with the woman. She wasn’t terrible she just wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted to be himself though and that wasn’t happening with any woman in Hollywood.

He wasn’t ever sure he would even be able to settle down now that his name had grown tenfold over the last few years. He was once in a long time relationship, but it blew up after never being able to see the poor girl. She broke up with him after the fiftieth time he had to cancel. He dated around here and there but was never able to find the one. People just used him for his fame and money. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to form a genuine connection with anybody again, people always wanted something from him.

So, chatting with you? It was absolute euphoria to him. He wasn’t lying when he said talking with you was the most interesting conversation he’s had in a while. Sure, being on set he was able to goof off and have fun with his coworkers turned friends every now and then. He knew there was no ill intent with the crew. He just craved an ounce of normalcy every now and then, which never seemed to come.

“Wait, you got to bottle feed lion cubs?” He asked. He thought you might just be the neatest girl he’s met in a long time. The way you described what you did for a living and the way you seemed to love it made him want to know so much more about you. He needed to know more.

“Mhmm! Let me show you a picture. They’re so precious.” You cooed scrolling through your photos to find them. Sure enough you found about a thousand or so pictures of the cubs, “That’s Izu and the pipsqueak beside him is his sister Mallie. She has stayed pretty small for a lion.” You pointed to the cubs grinning from ear to ear.

Miles could feel himself being sucked right into you. He knew he needed to make a move before you finished your shopping. He was sure he hasn’t smiled like this in a while, shooting was grueling.

“Why are you here so late?” He asked you the same thing as you had earlier.

Laughing you continued, “There’s a reason I’m a zookeeper. I try and avoid people. Most people don’t go grocery shopping at 11 o’clock on a Saturday night.

He laughed with you now, “You’re smart. I get to argue with people all day, every day.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a few apples, making sure to find the best ones, “God bless you for it. I’d lose my mind.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“You’re allowed to. That’s human.” Your eyes continued scanning the produce looking for the bananas, “Do you like what you do?” You questioned him this time, it was his turn. You were hoping he’d be more open to sharing now that you divulged half your life to him.

“I do. I really do. Love it actually. Most days are great. Just been a shit week.” He sighed, shoulders deflating a bit. He looked tired, exhausted even.

Forming a tight lipped smile you nodded, “I get it. Want to talk about it?” You questioned cocking your head to the side.

Shrugging he looked at you, “Do you really want to hear about it?”

“I do. You had me yapping this whole time, I’d like to know a little bit more about you Mr. Miles.” You responded while looking for the best bananas, finding it easier to converse when you weren’t staring right into each other’s eyes.

He liked you. He also knew he could grow to like you even more. You were beautiful, seemingly kind, and easy to hold a conversation with. You were kind of exactly what he was looking for. So, he let it go, letting you know just a little bit more about himself, “You know that saying, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong?”

Nodding your head, you turned to look at him, “Murphy’s Law!”

“Yes! That one.” He half smiled at you, admiring your excitement even though it was so late, “Every stunt went wrong this week, a guy almost fucking died. We lost an entire plane, poof up in flames. One of the actors got violently ill. I couldn’t perform…” He stopped his rant suddenly eyes wide realizing he would be giving away what he did, and he didn’t want to do that, not yet anyway, “I couldn’t perform my job because of all the mess ups. Filming is delayed already so that leaves us here in San Diego for who knows how long. Just a week from hell.” He groaned feeling a little relief offloading everything to the pretty girl he’s been talking to for the last forty five minutes.

You gave him the most bewildered look, “What the hell are you filming?” You paused realizing how insensitive that question was after he dropped all of that on you, “Sorry, that sounds like… a lot. That sucks Miles.” You were never great at giving advice. Especially when you had absolutely no idea just how massive it all was compared to your everyday simple life, “But on the bright side. More time in San Diego isn’t the worst. It’s a great little city!” You gave him your biggest and brightest smile hoping it’d cheer him up a bit.

“You’re right.” He admitted, “It’s not the worst. It’s actually pretty great. The women here are really pretty too.” He winked at you sending a fiery flushness to your face.

You tried coming up with anything to say. Something. But your mind went blank. It was like you had forgotten the entire English language in a millisecond. Your lips opened and closed making you look like a fish out of water.

“Thank you though,” He smiled sensing you inability to form a sentence, “Believe it or not, it’s nice to hear that sometimes.”

“Anytime. Glad I can help. Even just a little.” Words finally came back to you. 

Miles was sent into a mild panic realizing you had finished up your task at hand, you were walking towards the registers. The two of you had barely chatted for an hour but he didn’t want you to disappear off into the night. He wasn’t dumb, there was something there.

“Do you want to grab a drink or something?” He broke the silence between you.

“Right now?”

He shrugged, “Why not?”

You bit your lip contemplating his offer. Why not? You didn’t have anything to lose. You weren’t tied down to anybody and it wasn’t often a beautiful man asked you out.

“There’s a bar right by my place. Let me drop all this crap off at home and I can meet you there?” You felt exactly what he was thinking. He was so handsome, and he wanted to get to know you. There was certainly something there, why not give it a chance.

You exchanged numbers. He waited with you while you checked out not even grabbing what he came in here for, deciding he’d just do it tomorrow.

He walked with you to your car. You knew you shouldn’t put this much trust into a stranger but you decided to throw caution to the wind, fuck it.

“Rosa’s at 12:30, got it?” You asked slamming your trunk shut after loading up the groceries.

“Got it ma’am. I’ll see you soon. You really are beautiful.” He cracked a smile as he sauntered off towards his car.

You were thankful the cover of night hid the blush that encapsulated your entire face.

“Now this is a dive bar.” Miles chuckled taking in his surroundings.

“I didn’t say it was a nice bar.” Grinning you looked around at the hole in the wall. Having so many incredible memories with friends you couldn’t help but to adore the place, “I love it here.” You clapped your hands in excitement, definitely not planning for your night to end up like this but enjoying where it was heading. You were fully expecting to go sit on your couch and watch a movie or something when you got home. This was a nice change, a welcomed one. Your life had gotten so boring and monotonous, he was something different and exciting.

“Is it the beer all over the floor or the mold growing over in the corner that does it for you?”

Almost choking on the beer you were sipping on, you shot him a look, “Hey!” Laughing you composed yourself, “Film boy too good for Rosa’s?”

Shaking his head, he leaned closer to you in the booth you were chatting at, “Never too good.”

“That’s what I thought.” You shot him a wink feeling more and more comfortable the longer you spent around him. You too leaned into the table feeling exactly what he was, that pull, “So, what’s your story Miles?” Leaving the question open for ambiguity you hoped he would divulge even just a little to you.

He thought about telling you exactly what he did. Knowing full well he was playing with fire by not telling you. Luckily, the cover of night and your strategic choice of dive bar was keeping him well hidden from any recognition. He fully knew he’d have to tell you sooner rather than later because he certainly planned on seeing you again.

“What would you like to know?” Raising an eyebrow, he flipped the question back to you.

You eyed him as subtly as you could, so curious about this mysterious man, “Well, how’d you get into film?” Starting off with an easy one you took a long, slow sip of beer hoping he’d just give you something.

Clearly reminiscing he smiled thinking just how he got into it, “Honestly?”

You nodded waiting for him to go on.

“The drama teacher at my high school was fine as fuck.”

For the second time in a span of ten minutes you almost choked, not expecting that answer, “You know, that’s the best answer I could’ve gotten.” You didn’t stifle the laugh that came out. He was just getting better and better every time he said something.

He joined in on your laughter feeling elated. There was something about the way you presented yourself that eased him, he felt like he could be his full honest self with you. He didn’t feel like he needed to be prepped when it came to conversing with you.

He had a big problem though, the coworker turned fake girlfriend would be rather hard to explain to you. He was fully aware of just how unfair that would be to both you and her. He didn’t hate her at all, quite the opposite actually. They had grown close as friends, deciding they would rather suffer through it together. Each time they had to go out as a couple though it got harder to fake the lovesick eyes.

Knowing you were rather frazzled he thought it best not to bring it up tonight. Maybe on the next date. Definitely on the next date.

He smiled at you, quickly getting addicted to your laugh, “She was a fox,” He shrugged continuing, deciding to give you the vague details, “And she was good at her job. I got accepted into NYU and graduated with a BFA. I got lucky though and broke into the industry right after school.”

Nodding your head, you took everything he said in. He seemed like he was still not telling you everything which was fine, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as open as you were, “I think that’s amazing. I don’t know many artsy people. Everything is so technical when it comes to animals surprisingly. And all my friends here are either zookeepers or engineers. The conversations can get really thrilling.” Sarcasm was dripping off your voice as you spoke.

“And smart people intimidate me, touché.” He held his glass up waiting for you to cheers with him. You obliged laughing softly at the man who was absolutely riddled with one liners. He was so subtly funny you knew you would be laughing constantly if this were to go further.

“I didn’t say I was smart!” Feeling all too joyful your cheeks were starting to hurt from the smile you’d been holding for a while, “I just have a bunch of smart friends.”

“I don’t think you can do what you do without being a little smart.”

Shrugging you responded, “I just like big cats. Would I know anything you’ve worked on?” You changed the subject back to him. It’s not like you didn’t like receiving compliments it’s that you didn’t know how to receive them. You clammed up getting all awkward. The best way to avoid it was to change the subject.

He bit his cheek suppressing the smirk that so desperately wanted to come out. No, of course not or you’d recognize him instantly. He knew his time was running up, it was a good few hours of normalcy. You were just too curious to let it go, “Don’t think so. I’ve worked on more obscure films.” Lie, a little white lie.

“I’ll be honest with you Miles, I’m not the biggest movie or tv person. I don’t think I’ve been to a movie since I lived at home with my parents like 10 years ago.” You admitted. Of course, you watched a few movies every now and then, but you never got into it like others did. Only going to see the blockbusters you certainly weren’t going to see obscure movies. You liked the big blockbusters, but you could never get into them like the Harry Potter or Marvel fans could.

He nodded understanding you a little more now, “Nothing wrong with that, lots of great films out there though.”

“I’m more of a book person but I believe you. What’s the biggest movie you’ve worked on?” Again, changing the subject back to him.

“Are you going to go watch it?” He leaned even further into the table, your hands nearly touching.

“Of course, I am.” You answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He pondered for a moment. Knowing that if he continued his lie you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. His time was up. Which one did he want you to watch though? Divergent was a little cringy, meant for teenagers. Whiplash was intense but one of his favorites. The Spectacular Now was easy but again, meant to teenagers. He was surprised you hadn’t seen any of them.

“Have you heard of Whiplash?” He finally answered you.

Shaking your head back and forth, “Nope. What’s it about?”

“A drummer.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t want to give away too much.” He looked sure of himself.

“Okay,” You paused taking another long drink of beer, “I’ll watch it tomorrow. And what was your part in it?”

There it was. He could no longer dance around the subject. He had to tell you. Whatever this was, was likely over. He enjoyed every second of it though, the pure normalcy of it all though, “That’s a great question Y/N.” He delayed the inevitable for a few seconds.

“Chock full of them.” You grinned hoping he’d answer you.

Sighing he set his beer down taking a good long look at you, “Full disclosure. I’m one of the leads.”

You weren’t sure what your face looked like. If there was one thing that you would change about yourself it’s how expressive your facial expressions are. You were your emotions right on your face. The bug eyed look you were giving him surely wasn’t the cutest, “Like as in lead actor?”

The slightest nod and the smallest smile confirmed your question, “Yes.”

“But you said film. I thought you meant like an operator or something.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes. How embarrassing. You were less concerned that you spent the night with one but more so that you had no idea who he was.

He noticed your reaction. How you leaned back into your seat, pulling away from him. How you tensed up so slightly. How you wouldn’t look at him, staring at the bartender instead.

“I left a few details out.”

“A few?” You finally looked back to him not really believing you had managed to find yourself in this situation. It suddenly clicked as to why he was acting to weird and vague. He must’ve been a lot more famous than you initially thought. Fuck, why you? Why couldn’t he have just been an insanely hot man that found you interesting?

“Small details.” Cracking a small smile, he thought you were handling this remarkably well. Way better than he would’ve if he was in your shoes.

Realizing how insane the whole situation was you spat out the first thing that came to mind, “What are you filming here then?” It was still hard to meet his gaze. As comfortable as you felt with him earlier, it’d all vanished. Feeling insecure and slightly embarrassed you played with the water rings your glass was leaving instead of looking to him.

“It’s an action movie.”

“A secret?”

“Afraid so.” He didn’t take his eyes off you. Desperately wanting you to look back at him, even just for a second.

“Cool,” You took a deep breathe finally working the courage up to look at him, “I’m sorry… I.” You paused again tripping over yours words.

Cocking his head to the side he studied you. He wasn’t expecting you to apologize, “What for?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you…” You were in your own head. Completely frazzled. Why would he take his time and spend it with you, a random girl in a grocery store?

He rapidly shook his head, “No, no don’t apologize. Please don’t apologize.” He reached for your hand confusing you some more, but you let him. Your brain wasn’t processing anything at normal speed, “Y/N. This has been one of the best nights I’ve had in… forever. Since I’ve started doing this.” He admitted to you not wanting you feeling guilty in the slightest.

His hands were soft you noticed as he played with your own. You didn’t think your heart could keep up with what was going on. A combination of nerves and realization was sending you into a frenzy. Weren’t you just complaining about having a boring life? This certainly spiced things up.

“Okay,” You gulped looking back to him once more, “I take back what I said earlier. Your job is definitely the coolest then.”

The breath he was holding in finally released in the fit of laughter you had sent him in. He felt the relief wash over him. Maybe you wouldn’t run away just yet.

He squeezed your hand in his sending a slight shiver down your arm, “It has its perks. And its drawbacks. But I don’t want to talk about that.”

“No?” It finally clicked as to why he didn’t want to talk about it. You realized he probably liked not being recognized, not being treated like a god walking on water. You bullshited around with him like he was a random man in a grocery store. He wanted to spend time with you because you treated him like a normal person.

“Nah, let’s talk about something else.” He left it up to you. Maybe he shouldn’t have though, you were back in your head. What the hell were you supposed to talk to a famous actor about?

“What’s your favorite animal? You know mine, I never asked yours.” You too timidly spoke to him. Nervous you were going to do something wrong.

His smile told you otherwise though, “A monkey.”

“Interesting. Favorite sport?” You continued feeling like he had finally given up the mysterious act. Everything was in the open now.

“Football, is this twenty questions?”

“You left it up to me! So yes Miles, it is twenty questions.” Scrunching your nose, you were starting to relax again, feeling oddly normal around him even after he dropped that mini bomb on you.

He chucked, “Fair play. What’s yours?”

“To play, volleyball. To watch, football.”

He eyed you again curiously, “You like football?”

“Mhmm, can’t grow up in the Midwest and not love it.” You smiled thinking of the good old days. Your dad would cook up a feast on college football Saturdays and on NFL Sunday’s you’d all eat the leftovers. You cared far too much about games you couldn’t impact but you loved it. You loved the shit talking it inevitably led to between your family. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Favorite team?”

“Unfortunately, the Bengals.”

He gave you a look of pity, “That is unfortunate.”

“Rude.”

The two of you continued your bickering conversation throughout the rest of the night, never seeming to miss a beat. You forgot who he was in the midst of it all, falling back into the most casual of conversations between the pair.

Feeling terribly disappointed when the bartender called for last round he could sense your hesitation. You weren’t sure what the next steps were. Did he want to see you again? Did you want to see him again?

He walked you to your apartment in a comfortable silence, bonus of only being five minutes away from the bar. You unlocked your door turning to him, “I had a good night Miles, really.”

He took your hand for the second time that night, giving it another squeeze, “I did too, really.” He repeated you sending your heart rate up a bit, “Busy tomorrow?”

You were excitedly surprised he wanted to do this again so soon, “I do have a movie to watch.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Eight it is.”

[tngrace]

Oscar Night

I'm writing my 1st ever RPF fic and while I'm nervous as heck, this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. divider by @firefly-graphics

🏷: @bayisdying @mrsjaderogers @callmemana @ladylanera

You had known Miles for the better part of ten years. You'd met when you had been in New York during college before he was a big star. You'd stayed in contact over the years, even as his career took off. After two years in the big city, you returned home to the Blue Ridge Mountains, declaring the city was too much. Miles understood and supported your decision, making you promise you'd stay in touch.

As the days went on, you found yourself falling in love. Though you rarely got to see him, with his filming schedule and bouncing around between projects, you talked a lot. Miles became your best friend, your confidant, and you couldn't stop yourself from falling.

When his publicist pushed him into a relationship for his public image in the industry, you understood. You weren't exactly thrilled, but you also knew Hollywood wasn't for you. You tried to get on with your life; your job as a freelance proofreader keeping you busy. You traveled some, but nowhere fancy, and you did your best to find a partner. But no one compared to the man you'd fallen in love with, and no one understood how you two still talked and carried on as if you'd see each other soon. So you'd basically given up on dating; it just wasn't worth it.

While Miles got along with his girlfriend in public, they weren't exactly compatible and argued .... a lot. She wanted more than he was willing to give, and couldn't understand that it was a relationship of convenience to make certain people happy. You tried to sympathize with him, but short of telling him to get a real girlfriend, you couldn't help, but you still always listened.

He'd tease you by saying you could be his real girlfriend, but you knew he didn't really mean it. Or so you thought. There was no way he'd feel the same as you.

But after six years of pretending, Miles was done. Getting his girlfriend to understand that was a different story, and when he'd finally had enough, he told her he had someone else. When she asked for proof, he showed her a picture of you. She'd known about you the whole time so to say she was pissed was an understatement. You were slightly shocked when he told you, but you also knew where he was coming from so you didn't mind.

Finding Miles on your doorstep the night after that fight was a surprise, but you let him hide out for a week until the heat in Hollywood died down. After that week, he was off to film his next project, which he'd told you about in secret, and you were over the moon excited for him. Landing the role in Top Gun Maverick was going to be amazing for him, you just knew it.

During filming, he'd send you behind the scene things, and once more you two were talking all the time. The more you talked, the more you fell, even deeper. You knew eventually he'd find someone and fall in love, but until then, you treasured your conversations.

When COVID hit, you had to stay on opposite sides of the country, which was rough because you two had made some plans together, but also not because you barely saw him as it was over the years. You'd seen him for a bit between Top Gun and his next project, so you told yourself you were fine; it's not like you two were dating. His publicist was once again on him about a relationship and his image, but Miles put his foot down this time. There would be no more fake relationships.

When Miles returned from filming Spiderhead in Australia, he spent a month with you. During that month, you two finally moved from friends to lovers, Miles taking the leap one night and confessing his feelings for you. You were shocked, but also so very happy your feelings were returned. After that, things just fell into place. He'd spend time at your home with you, and when you felt brave enough to face his world, you'd follow him across the country, and watch him work. Your favorite times was watching him watch sports, whether it be his beloved Eagles or Phillies. While you didn't care for either team, you loved watching him.

During Top Gun Maverick's premiere, you met a lot of people you'd admired and adored from afar most of your life. It was exhilarating and exciting, but also terrifying. You two weren't ready to go public or put you in front of a bunch of fans who'd fallen in love with the cast, so while you went to all the events, you stayed in the background. And that was more than fine with you. You'd run into Miles' ex a few times at some of the events, her publicist putting her there in the hopes of reconciliation. But Miles never gave her the attention. Fans seemed to speculate they were getting back together, but you didn't let it bother you because you knew the truth.

You knew the movie was going to be a hit, but no one knew just how much it was going to explode. Miles' movies and shows became more popular than ever, and everywhere you looked, your boyfriend was showing up. It was entertaining to search fan sites to see what all they were saying, and you loved teasing Miles to no end about it. You especially loved when he'd blush at your teasing, and then remind you that you were the only one he wanted and loved.

A little over three months after the movie premiere, Miles surprised you by popping the question in your home town. It was beautiful and romantic, Miles having planned a picnic in the mountains. You were over the moon. You two decided to have just a small ceremony fairly soon, with family and the cast from TGM that you'd both gotten close with. You planned a December wedding, and were pleasantly surprised when your little home town ended up with snow for it.

It was a beautiful, simple wedding, and before you knew it, you were Mrs. Miles Teller. Miles planned the perfect honeymoon, and you spent two weeks in Turks and Caicos, lost in each other. It was absolute bliss.

When awards season started, you two decided to play each one by ear and decide whether to make things public. You were more than fine with coming out, but you also knew how Miles was protective of you. When he was asked to present at Critics Choice with his newest co-star, you were more than happy for him. You two decided then that this would be the time. Miles was more than ready to show you off, and he was more than ready to have you on his arm at all the upcoming awards and press tours that would be happening.

While you were nervous, things went smoothly. During one of his interviews, he pulled you close and explained how yall had a simple ceremony in December and how happy you two were. While on stage, his eyes stayed on you the whole time, the smile on his face genuine. He was killing you in his tux with his full beard, and you were more than happy to skip after parties to get back to the room.

Oscar nominations came out not long after Critics Choice and you were so excited for the whole cast with the nominations. You two had been spotted frequently especially after Critics Choice, and rumors where flying about your relationship, how yall met, how you were able to tie him down. You didn't pay much attention to it, more than happy to just be in the moment with your man, especially with the test confirmation you got the morning of the Oscars. Miles was over the moon, and he showed you all morning long, just how happy he was.

The hair and makeup team had been there since lunch and when they finally left the suite was quite. You stared at yourself in the mirror, looking and feeling like a true princess. It wasn't but a minute, and arms wrapped around your waist, over your flat stomach that would be expanding soon, and a chin rested on your shoulder. You smiled as you met his stare in the mirror.

"You look stunning," you whispered to him. You knew he'd take your breath in a full tux and his beard, just like Critics Choice, but every time still made you catch your breath and wonder how you got so lucky. He'd trimmed his beard up, and while you liked the fuller look from a few months prior, he was still so damn breathtaking.

"Mmmm not as stunning as you." His lips softly traced your jawline, while his hands never moved from your stomach. You two were very affectionate and touchy-feely, and you know that would only get worse the further along you got. A shiver shot through you causing him to smirk. "You ready to go be best dressed?"

"I highly doubt that will be me. Maybe you," you grins.

"Na. You'll steal the carpet." He knew you were nervous, but he kept reminding you that he would be right there the whole time. Besides, it wasn't exactly your first red carpet event, it was just first with the whole world knowing you were married.

The car ride was quick and painless, and you rather enjoyed yourself. But upon arrival, you felt yourself start to panic. You weren't expecting all the fans - even though you should've- the reporters and paps were waiting at the car before you even made it to the carpet. "I can't... you...."

He leans over and silences you with a soft kiss, his hand cupping your jaw. "Y/N/N look at me," he whispers. Your eyes slowly meet his and he gives you a true, genuine soft smile. "I'm right here. Not gonna leave you. You're beautiful, you're gorgeous, you're amazing and I love you more than words can say. You're the only one I want by my side... forever."

He gives you another kiss before pulling your hand up and softly kissing your finger where your engagement ring and wedding band sit. "Me and you.... forever."

"Forever," you whispers with a smile.

Miles leans down and kisses your stomach, not for the first time, whispering "be good to mommy tonight ok peanut?" Making you absolutely melt before he finally unlocks the door and slides out. He waves to some fans who call out to him, and then he reaches in helping you out. Cameras flash repeatedly, and fans scream and squeal. Miles tucks you into his side and the two of you make your way to the carpet.

Pictures take forever, but it's the first time you've ever seen a genuine smile on his face at an event like this. True to his word, he sticks right by your side, only stepping away for moments at a time for interviews, and even then someone from the cast is always around. It was great being able to meet up with them, so you weren't just standing around awkwardly while he gave his brief interviews.

He does finally get asked about you, and he beams as he pulls you closer. "I'd like to introduce you to my wife Y/N."

"Yea you made quite the stir with that announcement at Critics Choice, if I remember?"

You blush as Miles pulls you closer as he laughs. "Yea we did. But this girl," he gazes at you for a moment. "She's been by my side for a long time, and it was so easy falling in love with her. No one else I'd rather spend my life with."

Your blush gets worse, and you'd love nothing more than to hide your face in his chest, but you don't. "Well you two seem very happy and in love so we wish you all the best."

"Thank you," Miles smiles big before you two walk off to rejoin your friends. Everybody worked their way through interviews and more pictures putting everybody closer to going inside to their seats. Miles was about ten feet away giving a final interview about his new upcoming project, and you were standing with Monica, Danny and his date Baylie, Glen and his date Alana, and Greg, when you saw Miles' ex and one of her so called friends coming towards the group.

Everybody knew her, and while you were hoping to avoid any kind of confrontation, you were almost positive it was going to happen. You held your breath when they stopped next to your group, and you couldn't stop your eyes flicking back to Miles.

"Well, well, well..... if it isn't the little home wrecker. He finally decided to bring you around?" The friend says.

You feel yourself tense, but you also bite your tongue to keep from saying anything.

"For a while I thought she was just made up."

Baylie and Alana were standing on each of your sides, and you weren't surprised when Glen and Danny stepped in front of all three of you. Greg stepped up beside Monica essentially putting her beside you three.

"What do you want?" Glen asks through gritted teeth.

You're not surprised it's the ex who speaks up first. "Oh don't be like that Glenny. We just wanted to stop by and say hi to the most popular cast here tonight. Can't believe you all actually let him bring her around though."

You feel Baylie and Alana both move to defend you, but Danny and Glen don't let them through. You know Baylie would throw punches if she could, but you really, really don't want to cause a scene. Before anyone can say anything, Miles is standing in front of everybody. "And I'm surprised you were even invited."

You don't hide your laugh very well at his ex's offended face.

"She's with me!" the friend speaks up.

"Of course." He steps back and pulls you into his side, before he leans down and lays a searing, never ending kiss on you. When you both pull back to catch a breath, he gives you a soft grin, and then another soft little peck. All your friends are trying to hide their laughs because he is usually so reserved, especially in public. This was the most public display you two had ever put on, and Monica being a good friend, got it on video. He swipes a curl that had come loose from your updo behind your ear, and then looks around. "Oh your still here?"

You laugh into his chest when you hear Baylie and Alana let out snorts of their own. You really do have some of the best friends ever.

"I can't believe you! Six years! Six years wasted! And for what?! You never did any of this with me! Ever! We could've already had a family!"

Miles lays another kiss to your forehead. You know this whole scene is going to be headline news, and you're worried for your husband. But Miles is so done with her shit and her lies, so you're not surprised when he doesn't back down.

"Six years of a forced fake relationship you mean. You never had this because we were not real! It was a publicity stunt and you knew it when you signed the damn contract! Move on because we never were a thing and we never will be again." With that, he laces his fingers with yours and your whole group heads in to get seats.

The whole show, Miles spends with his arm and hand touching you somewhere keeping you close. It's a fun night, despite the little scene on the carpet. While you thought the movie deserved more than just the one award it won, you had the best time and was so proud of your husband and the whole cast. You two decided to skip the after party, despite your friends' multiple protests, but you promised them to catch up later.

The cast had their own private party back at the hotel which was way more low-key and relaxed which was more your style. It was a fun night, and you were happy when Miles shared the good news with your friends that night. You got so many congratulations and promises of the perfect baby shower, even though you laughed them off and told them you still had a while to go.

The confrontation did make headline news the next morning, but the main picture was Miles leaning you back while he laid the searing kiss on you. You still blushed seeing it, even though most people's reactions were positive for the two of you. The fans loved seeing him happy, and you loved knowing that you being in the picture didn't change anything for him. You knew it might've been your first Oscar night, but it certainly wouldn't be your last.

"Forever," he'd whispered to you and forever he meant.

[roostache]

hi <3 here’s a few ideas that you could possibly use, for any rooster fics that you write!!

spending the whole day at the beach with him

meeting for the first time

him proposing to you

first date

going on vacation with him

taking care of him when he’s sick

or him taking care of you when you’re sick

having a movie night with him

if you want anymore ideas or even writing prompts. just let me know!!

okay so first of all I really wanted to thank you for ALL the plots you gave me here, and that I got inspired by a lot of them ! I can't thank you enough for taking the time to help me, I really really appreciate that !

And so I decided to take a go on the "him proposing to you", even though I don't know if that can really be considered a proposal

I hope you guys will like it, I haven't written in english in AGES !

NOT THAT MAN // rooster

Summary : After the events of Top Gun Maverick, Rooster finds himself forced to rethink about his life choices and the way he perceives relationships

Pairing : Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x GN!reader, no use of Y/N

Wordcount : 2.3k

Warnings : TG Maverick spoilers, mentions of death, some “fuck” because I’m not polite, and I'm not a native enlish speaker so probably some mistakes // if I forgot anything, please tell me so I can add it on the list !

The fear of dying. The fear of leaving his relatives behind just like he had lost his own parents. His dad, whom he kept not much memories of, then his mom, whom he always carried her favorite bracelet as his lucky charm. The fear of losing anyone else, the fear of losing himself. Reasons, Rooster could find many so he did not have to get attached to any one. Because he was scared, so scared that everything would stop one day. For them. For him.

But this fear was stopping him in life, way more than he wanted to show. He started thinking about this ever since Phoenix and Bob’s accident, though he did not even really know the latter he still found himself quite too much affected by the thought of losing them both. He thought about this ever since Maverick tried to make it look like losing someone you love is not that insurmountable. Because if he had forgotten about Goose, Bradley could never.

You don't have a wife… You have no children… There's no one to mourn when you crash.

He was no better. Fuck he was no better. Because Rooster got out of his life every person that would become a too important part of it, wrecking any of his romantic affairs, not always being here for his friends. He did not have the right, he simply did not have the right to be missed, and to let the people he loved live the excruciating agony of losing him, that specific feeling he hated a little more every day because of his parents deaths.

He was alone, and not sure that this aspect of his life would someday change. He was not even sure he’d want that anyway.

All that did not stop him from feeling things though. Oh, far from it. He was a passionate one, Rooster, and lived every emotion times a thousand just as he always felt like falling in love with every woman that entered his favorite bars. These women that never stood by his side for more than a few weeks, a couple of months if they were lucky. Each one of them thrown away as soon as he got back into his vicious circle of fear, this fucking fear that had always stopped him from living his own life.

Except that Rooster couldn’t avoid what was meant to be. He did not have such power, no matter how much he would have liked to. Then, everything always ended up the same, everything always reached the same point, again and again : with you. Regardless how much he tried to fight it, nothing could let him fell out of it.

Last weeks had felt like absolute hell, as if the time had slowed and life had lost all meanings. In fact maybe it was the case. With Bradley gone back to Top Gun, nothing seemed to fill the void he had left behind him. Wait, what void anyway ? Even though the pilot was not by your side anymore, you couldn’t get him off your brain. And anxiety gained the upper hand every time you got a thought about him. What is Bradley doing ? What’s the point of his mission ? Is he risking big ? Is he scared ? I’m scared. I’m terrified. Come home, Bradley.

Days spent with no news from him made you look at life through opaque black-tinted glasses. Mainly, this silence allowed you to think and rethink about the relationship that united you. This connection words couldn’t even describe, except for “complicated”. It was complicated to share a love that seemed one-sided every two weeks, complicated to keep faith when you were hoping to find him by your side the mornings after he had spent the night at yours, while he had left without a word nor explaining himself later on, complicated when all you could do was watch him bring any chick he did not know home when you were ready to follow him anywhere if he just said one word. It was complicated to trust his drunken “I love you”s when you saw him getting his tongue up the throat of another one 20 minutes later. Complicated and yet addictive. Because still it was easy to love him.

Brad² ♡  : coming home in just 5 days

And then radio silence, so you only could count on this text that you read and re-read every night to get you to cry just a little more every time. Fuck how you missed him.

When he had sent this text, Rooster immediately turned off his phone with the idea of not turning it back on before he’d be back on land. He only had one goal : focus on the mission that, even with the most seriousness, had great chances to send him to his death. But he failed as all of his thoughts were about you and all the moments you shared. Those where he never had the courage to go all the way.

Years. Years not knowing how to live without you and yet always running away. Years convincing himself he’d finally express his love for you before actually taking a step back. Years lost torturing himself, torturing you when you were still waiting for him. And that he knew, but he never could be that man that’d abandon you. He had never wanted to hurt you though he knew he was your cries main reason. He was the main reason for his own too anyways.

This mission, the one that was supposed to kill him, saw him coming back alive despite all the efforts he'd made to die there. When he almost got hit full force by some missiles, when he went to help Maverick while ordered to go back to the aircraft carrier, when he had to follow him in an old F-14 he didn’t know anything about with enemies coming for them. Rightly so seeing life a different way afterwards, finally understanding that, maybe, he had the right to think about the future and what he could really do about it. Maybe he could allow himself what he had always dreamt of without ever taking it.

Coming back to the base, he did not expect anyone. Rooster knew that Maverick would meet Penny and her daughter, that Phoenix would jump into her sister’s arms, Bob’d kiss his fiancée and Hangman’s nephews and nieces would harass him with too many questions. Rooster had only planned to pack and head to the Hard Deck to celebrate the victory with everyone.

Except that, apparently, he wouldn’t be going on his own.

There was a crowd cheering their feat and still, among all of the faces, he instantly found his favorite one without even expecting to see it. There, on the tarmac, only a few feet away, the one who did not even know gave him the courage to do all of this. Hundred of miles away from home, you still felt like being right where you needed to be : beside him. There and nowhere else.

When he saw you, Rooster felt strangely great and sick at the same time. He could not hear the crowd around him and it seemed like Earth was turning way faster around the Sun than usually. The ground was threatening to swallow him and his heart to run from his chest and fly right to you. He was almost sure he was going to collapse as he couldn’t even move. And that’s right then that he understood just how in the wrong he had always been. He was not alone, and as long as you’d be here, he’d never be. No matter what he’d do to you, all the pain he knew he gifted you.

With a shy smile after all this time spent away from him, you decided to make the first step and approach him, breaking the distance between you. The closest you were getting, the more you noticed the pain in Bradley’s eyes that couldn’t look away from you. Stress was rising. Shit, what if he finally had gotten to the point where he knew he did nor need nor want you by his side ? You felt so small, only a feet away from him, and you couldn’t resign to make the last step now that he was so close.

“Hey…” You broke the silence in a murmur, with the sudden urgent need to flee back home. What were you fucking thinking ? Why a man such as Bradley would waste his time with you ? He who was one of the greatest pilots of the country, called on top secrets missions no one could know a single detail about.

He did not answer at first which made you swallow. And as you were ready to apologize profusely for coming there without telling him first, he closed the space between you by taking that one last damn step. Nothing could have come between you as he held you by the waist to squeeze you right onto his torso. Eyes on eyes, you finally noticed it was not pain that you had found in his, but tthat they were brightening of pure joy.

“You’re here…” He was smiling. A weak smile, but still enough for you to melt under his voice, touch and expression. And when he put one of his hands on your face, you thought you were ready to die right then and there, as he made sure you were real.

“I’m here.”

And without wasting any more minute (or second if you asked him), Rooster bent to crash his lips on yours, starting a feverish dance he had dreamt of practicing these last busy weeks. Four lips saying I love you in a language only them could comprehend. And it was not this sudden surprising public display of affection that made you stop that kiss. No, it was actually what you had ever hoped from him for years now, an undreamt step forward while you still couldn’t help but wonder what could have had happened during his mission for him to come back with his tail between his legs. Not that it was bothering you, but still you were worried. And that latter was what led you to break that heaven of a kiss.

“Hey…” In a sigh, you held his hands to try and reassure him, calm him, assuring him you weren’t going anywhere and he did not need to rush things right now, even after years of steps forward that resulted in going backwards.

“Marry me.” He did not seem to be on the same page as you.

You instantly frowned, thinking (hoping) you only had misheard. But for Rooster, what he had just told seemed like pure logic. Both of your hearts were racing now, but not for the same reasons.

“What ?” Your voice felt weaker now, so unsure. He had told you such bullshit, but never got to that point. This was by far his best clowning.

“Marry me.” He repeated, squeezing your hands a little more in his now, as his smile got bigger and bigger with the idea of actually doing it. “Marry me.”

You turned your head seeking for help (or hidden cameras at this point), but no one was looking at you, no one had heard the insanity that had just fell off his lips. You were alone facing his nonsense.

“I… Uhm…” Heat was rising right to your cheeks as you did not even remember how to speak. “Wh-why ?”

And as it was now obvious for him you were not on the same wavelength (how would that had been even possible anyway ?), the pilot kept his spirit up. Rooster got his hands off yours and put one on your waist, and the other behind your head so he could pull your body to his. Heart against heart for you to feel how sincere he was.

“Because I don’t want to be this man, sweetheart.” His voice was surprisingly calm and mature.

“Huh ? What are you talking about Brad, what man ?” You asked wrapping your arms around his waist, both happy to finally hear him say he wanted to change and afraid to imagine it was only adrenaline from his mission coming off and he’d be back on rejecting you next week.

Rooster left a kiss on the top of your head before putting his head up to look at Maverick, mix feelings growing inside of him. A heartache and a ball of heat rising in his stomach. Mav’ was already leaving the tarmac, hand in hand with Penny as Amelia was curiously looking all around her. Lost in his thoughts, he forgot to answer.

So you decided to detach from him, before following his gaze, and you caught the scene. “Oh…” Everything finally made sense. Rooster didn’t want to waste his life just as Maverick had done before him.

“Hey.” This time, it was not a comforting one. You were just trying to catch his attention. So as soon as he landed his eyes on yours again, it was your time to smile. A reassuring one, sweet and offering everything Bradley needed you to say. “I’ll marry you, Bradley. But just not right now.”

He just laughed at that, feeling a little dumb after hearing you say that as he literally thought about running to the city hall to get it done as soon as possible and not waste any more second not being with you. “But you promise ?” His voice was way more cracked than what he had expected it to be, betraying his fear to lose you if he couldn’t make you his right here right now.

You shrugged, putting your hand on his cheek as you started stroking one of his many scars there. “If you promise that you’ll be the best boyfriend ever first, than yes.”

His smile got wide again. Rooster gained so much confidence with that promise you’d just done. Only remained for him to prove how serious he wanted to get. He put his lips back on yours, and without even breaking the kiss, he assured “I promise.”

“See, you're never going to be this man.” you could barely say as his lips could not leave you anymore. But still you wanted to make that clear. Rooster was never like Maverick, and you'd make sure he'd never be.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

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@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

[kyber-crystal]

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated. 

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait. 

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out. 

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.” 

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you. 

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas. 

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair.  Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch. 

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…” 

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat. 

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality. 

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough. 

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours. 

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight. 

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light. 

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before. 

Everything seems to fall into place. 

IV. for you, i’d cross the line 

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance. 

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing. 

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness. 

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours. 

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you. 

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.” 

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together. 

You’re never letting go, and neither is he. 

epilogue—soul ties 

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear. 

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady. 

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else. 

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness. 

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you. 

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered. 

You shake your head. 

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly. 

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.” 

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.” 

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall. 

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips. 

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest. 

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done. 

And you were most certainly right about that now. 

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other. 

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again. 

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself. 

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate. 

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

[lesbiradshaw]

the fact they’re each thinking “he can’t be serious” is actually a sign of soulmatism

[bradshawsvinyl]

Begin Again Part Two

As a first grade teacher, you couldn’t help but fall for your sweet student and her very attractive Navy fighter pilot father.

Part One. Part Three.

Bradley could not believe his ears. He was pretty sure if he looked into a mirror his face would be tomato red. He had never felt more humbled in his life.

“I’m not sure where she got that from,” Bradley awkwardly laughed. “You know how kids are. They get confused sometimes. Right Tara?”

“But Daddy,” Tara started. “You told Aunt Phoenix that my teacher was…”

“Well,” Bradley said while looking at you. “We have to um get going. See you tomorrow Ms. Y/L/N.” He practically dragged Tara out of your classroom.

You politely smiled and waved. “Bye Tara! Bye Mr. Bradshaw!” You said.

Bradley and Tara leaving meant you finally had some time to yourself. You wondered if Tara was telling the truth. Bradley was right. You did know how kids are. Maybe Tara overheard Bradley’s conversation and got confused. That had to be why she said that.

The next day on base, Bradley practically ran to Phoenix. “What do I do? Phoenix please help me,” He begged.

Phoenix began walking towards the on base locker rooms. “Bradshaw, what the hell is up with you?”

Bradley made quick steps to keep up with Phoenix. “Yesterday, when I went to pick up Tara, she walked up to her teacher and told her that I think she’s pretty,” he said with a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Yikes Rooster,” Phoenix replied. “I don’t even think I can help you get out of that one.” She said before bursting into laughter.

“Phoenix please. What should I say to her today? Should I just ignore her or what? You’re the girl here, you have to have something I can do.” Bradley said, voice laced with desperation.

“Look Bradley,” Phoenix said seriously. “Just be honest with her. Tell her that what Tara said is true and that you meant no harm by it. I don’t know what else to say.”

Bradley sighed, said goodbye to Phoenix, and did the walk of shame to his Ford Bronco. It was time to pick up Tara again. It was time to see you again.

At school, Tara was the last person to be picked up again. You led her inside of your classroom and patiently waited for her father to arrive. At four o clock, he knocked on your door.

“Daddy,” Tara yelled while running to Bradley.

“Hi sweetie!” He said while giving her a hug. “Hi Ms Y/L/N.” He said with a polite wave in your direction.

“Hi Mr. Bradshaw.” You said politely. “Before you go, I just wanted to remind you that drop off is at 3 o'clock.”

“Crap,” he said while letting go of Tara. “Sorry. I’m a single dad and sometimes it’s hard to transport Tara from place to place. I fly planes for the Navy so my schedule isn’t very lenient.”

“It’s okay Mr. Bradshaw.” You said while smiling at him. “I have no problem keeping Tara after school for a few hours if it would help you.”

“That would mean a lot as long as it’s not an inconvenience to you.” He said. Bradley couldn’t believe you had offered to watch Tara for him. Finding someone he trusted to watch Tara while he was at work could be hard. Not only were you nice to look at, you were also just nice. “You can just call me Bradley by the way.”

“I’m Y/N then,” you said while holding your hand out for him to shake. “I’m happy to help you. I know it’s only the third day of school but Tara is one of my best students so far.” You said with a wide smile in Tara’s direction.

“Thank you so much.” He smiled while grabbing Tara’s backpack and jacket. “Oh.” He said while turning around to face you again. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes before quickly opening them again. “About what Tara said yesterday,” he started. “I did say you were attractive in confidence to my friend. She must have overheard and I’m really sorry if this makes things awkward now, but I just wanted you to know the truth,” he rambled on, “But um yeah I apologize.” He said while running his fingers through his hair again.

“All is forgotten,” you said. “And for the record, you’re not too bad yourself.” You said, slightly blushing.

Bradley grinned. He couldn’t believe his ears. “I should probably give you my number,” he said while pulling out his phone. “You know since you’re going to be staying with Tara for a while after school.”

“Right.” You said taking his phone and typing in your number. “I’ll see you tomorrow Tara.” You waved. “Bye Bradley!”

When you checked your phone after getting home and showering you saw a message from an unknown number.

Hey, it's Bradley. I can’t wait to see more of you. And thanks again for helping with Tara.

You put your phone down and smiled. Then you thought of what to say to Bradley.

Happy to help! See you tomorrow.

You couldn’t wait to see more of Bradley either.

Authors note: I love writing these characters! Please let me know if you want part three. Happy Reading!

-Willow 🩷

[vivwritesfics]

Ignorance Is Kind

Seven months ago Bradley Bradshaw attended a barbecue hosted by Jake Seresin. Seven months ago Bradley met a girl at said barbecue. Seven months ago Bradley railed her.

And here she was at Jakes next barbecue, even months pregnant.

2.5K

Warnings: smut, fingering, marking, light degrading, unprotected sex, pregnancy

Bradley Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader

"Come to my barbecue," Jake Seresin insisted as he spoke to his little sister on the phone. "You owe him that much."

From the other end of the phone, he heard her release a sigh. "Jake, c'mon," she said. "Leave it alone. If I wanted him to know, I would have told him," she muttered.

"You know I don't like him either," Jake replied. "But he deserves to know. Plus, I want to see you."

She couldn't admit that Jake was right. And still, some small part of her wanted to resist. "Fine," she finally agreed. "But just because I wanna see you, too."

Jake let out a cheer, one that had his sister laughing. "Brilliant," he said. "I'll go and get the spare room ready for you!"

"Jakey," she said before he put the phone down. "Can you get some pickles and potato chips?"

"Of course I can," Jake replied. "Anything else?"

"Maybe some ice cream?"

Jake let out a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and got him ready to run out to the store.

***

The last time Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw had gone to one of Jake Seresin's barbecue, things hadn't gone too well. Or they'd gone exceptionally well, depending on who you ask.

Bradley hadn't expected to meet a pretty girl at Jakes barbecue. He hadn't expected to bump into somebody as he walked away from the drinks cooler, a beer in his hand. His free hand settled on her waist as he steadied her.

"You okay?" Bradley asked her, stooping ever so slightly to look into her eyes.

She nodded her head and swallowed. "Yeah, uhm, yes. Yeah, I'm fine," she said and offered him a sweet smile. Bradley didn't think he had ever seen something so sweet.

He hadn't meant to spend the entire barbecue chatting up Jake Seresin's little sister. In his defense, he didn't realise that she was Jake's sister. He got her drinks when she ran out and brought over a selection of food from the barbecue.

The thing about Bradley was that he was irresistibly charming. She held herself back for most of the barbecue, waiting until Jake found himself distracted by some pretty thing that 'wanted to see the way he grilled'.

And as soon as Jake was distracted, she slipped into Roosters lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm staying at Jakes tonight," she muttered and she slowly moved in his lap.

Even as disappointment crossed his face, Bradley kept a tight grip on her waist. He shifted slightly and her eyes closed as she let out a whimper. "I think you should come up to my room with me," she whispered as she buried her face against his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin.

Bradley couldn't stop the shiver from running down his spine. "Who are you?" He asked through a breath.

The way she moved against him now, her hands running through his hair, Bradley had to get her inside. He didn't care about who she might have been to Jake in that moment, he just wanted to be sliding his cock through her folds and watch as her eyes rolled back.

She hopped off of his lap. The sun was setting and Jakes guests were still eating, but neither of them cared much. If anybody noticed them sneaking into the house, they didn't say anything.

She led Bradley up to the spare bedroom. He'd stayed in it a few times before, but that wasn't what he was thinking about as she pushed the door shut and popped her the button on her shorts.

Bradley salivated as she walked towards, hips swaying from side to side. She pushed him back onto the bed. Bradley could have resisted, but he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. His hands touched her sides, drifted beneath her shirt as she climbed on top of him and attached her lips to his.

Bradley's hands cradled the back of her head, holding her close as moved her lips against his own. He'd let her lead, for now.

When her tongue began to explore her mouth, Bradley decided that he had had enough. He flipped her over, his thumbs brushing over her stomach as he pressed his lips to her own. She let out a whine from the back of her throat as his lips moved across her jaw and down to her neck. He sucked dark purple bruises into her skin, not caring for who would see them in the morning. She moaned out, nails against his back, not quite scratching the skin.

She pulled her shirt off and threw it to one side. Bradley immediately moved down her chest, lips against the supple flesh that wasn't covered by her bra. "Take it off," he commanded as he kissed down her stomach, making his way towards her shorts.

She did as he asked and unclasped her bra. The moment she pulled it away from her body, Bradley's lips were around her nipple, sucking as his hands pushed her shorts down her legs.

She whined and moaned, nails finally digging into his skin. Bradley couldn't stop his own moan as he released her nipple.

With her shorts pushed all the way down her legs, Bradley unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He got to his knees and gripped her thighs, dragging her to the end of the bed.

The first touch of his lips against her thigh had flames igniting through her body. She cried out, reaching for something to grab onto. But Bradley stopped her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists as he lifted them above her head. "Keep them there, pretty girl," he said and kissed her again.

Bradley travelled back down to where she needed him. He nudged her legs apart with one hand, the other working to free his length from the confines of his jeans. He ran a single finger through her folds and a desperate whine left her lips. "Fuck!" She cried, hands coming back down.

But then Bradley pulled away completely. Desperate tears ran down her cheeks as she put her hands back above her head, just as he had told her to.

He pushed his finger through her folds, brushing over her clit. She jolted her body but Bradley kept going, pushing a single digit into her hole. "Please!" She cried, immediately rolling her hips against his hand.

"So fucking needy." He let out a low chuckle, finger completely still inside of her. "Humping my hand like a little slut." He withdrew his finger and pushed it back in, a second one accompanying it.

Bradley's thumb brushes against her hip as he used his other hand to stretch her out. She rode his fingers desperately, babbling incoherently. "Please, please, please," she cried, but Bradley could barely understand her.

"What do you need, pretty girl?"

"You!" She cried through a gasp. "I need you."

Her thighs were drenched when Bradley pulled his fingers out of her. He pushed down his jeans and climbed on top of her yet again.

Bradley reattached his lips to her own. Her hands were around his shoulders as she drew in quick breath. "Ready, pretty girl?" He asked and she nodded quickly, desperately.

She looked down, looking at what he was working with. Her lips drew in a gasp as she saw just how big he was.

Bradley pushed himself through her folds. It was slowly and gentle. Every time her breath hitched, Bradley kissed her. But the way he filled her, it was all consuming. She couldn't concentrate on anything other than the way his cock filled her.

He bottomed out with a grunt, his forehead against her own. "Fuck," she hissed, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing had ever made her feel like this, certainly not the other people she had slept with over the years. No, there was just him and nobody else. He was the only thought that entered her mind.

Slowly, he began rolling his hips. Her legs locked around his hips as he rocked his hips against her own. His cock pushed through her folds again and again, his pace building. "That's it, pretty girl," he grunted. "Feel so good."

Every nerve in her body was on fire. Her back arched from the bed, chest pressing against his own. The lines on his back that her nails were creating, Bradley couldn't wait to show them off.

His lips swallowed her moans, her desperate cries. She rolled her hips against his own as he hit every single spot inside of her.

"Fuck," she whispered as she pulled away. But Bradley swallowed it, his lips against her own.

Her walls clenched around him and Bradley squeezed his eyes shut, pulling away from her lips to press his forehead against her own. His breath came out in short puffs, grunts leaving his lips. "I'm gonna..."

But she couldn't even finish her sentence. Her legs tightened around his mid section, holding him close as she came around his cock. Bradley kept going. He pressed himself as close to her as he could get as his thrusts grew sloppy. "Shit," he hissed, her walls still squeezing him.

When Bradley came he slumped forward, his arms barely holding him up on top of her. His cum painted her walls and he kissed her one last time. Sweetly, deeply, slowly. It was nothing like the way he had just fucked her, nothing like the way he had sent pleasure crashing over her.

Bradley pulled out and laid on the bed beside her. His hand was resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling above him. "That was... amazing," he said through gasps, turning his head towards her.

She sat up. On shaking legs she grabbed a shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts. "Where are you going?" Bradley asked as he watched her move towards the bedroom door.

"I'm gonna shower," she said and pulled the door open.

"Want me to come with you?"

She shook her head and Bradley felt himself deflate.

But that was seven months ago. He hadn't even gotten her name, but she was the best fuck he'd ever had. Bradley thought about her often. Whenever he picked someone up from The Hard Deck, he couldn't help but think of her.

When Jake invited him to another barbecue, seven months after he'd last seen pretty girl, as he had been calling her, Bradley jumped at the chance.

He was unable to stop himself from arriving to the barbecue early. The only one there before him was Bob. Bradley got himself a drink from the cooler and sat himself down as he waited for the rest of the guests to arrive.

Every time somebody walked through Jakes back door and out into his garden, Bradley couldn't stop himself from growing hopeful. It wasn't her. He started to think it would never be her.

He didn't know that she was in the spare bedroom, hand on her swollen stomach as she looked down at the barbecue bellow. She'd seen him the moment he walked in, moustache and hawaiian shirt the same as the day they'd met. She immediately remembered why she had found him attractive in the first place.

She had promised Jake she'd he at his barbecue, but something kept her in the spare room. Fucking pregnancy hormones. But she was craving potato chips. Potato chips that Jake had put outside.

Mustering all of her courage, she slipped on her shoes and made her way outside.

Nobody was looking at her, but she couldn't help feeling exposed as she stepped into the garden. Even in the sunshine she wore loose pants, a tank top hugging her seven month bump.

Bradley didn't notice her as he sipped his beer. He had long since given up looking for her. It seemed as though she wasn't coming.

But then she walked in front of him.

"Pretty girl!" Bradley said through a gasp as he stood up.

She completely froze up. "Shit," she squeaked and turned around. "Hi," she said, giving a small, awkward wave.

"Hey-"

But then Bradley spotted it. Well, how could he not? Her bump was huge; she looked ready to explode. "Wow," he said, swallowing nerves. "You look... different."

"Save it," she said and walked away, going to sit with Bob, Natasha and their potato chips. (She didn't know them any better than she knew Bradley, didn't even knew their names, but she needed to get away from him).

Bradley downed his beer. In two gulps it was gone. He placed it down onto the table behind him and strode over to Jake at the barbecue.

"Is it mine?"

"Huh?" Jake asked as he looked away from the barbecue. "What the fuck are you on about?"

Bradley's nostrils flared as he looked at her across the garden, watched her as she got acquainted with Bob and Natasha. "You know what the fuck I'm on about," he said. "Is the baby mine?"

Jake let out a dry laugh. "That baby is a Seresin and that's all that matters."

"So it's yours," Bradley said, his voice defeated.

Immediately Jake began to fake barf. He clutched his stomach as he pretended to throw up onto the grass. "Gross, Rooster. That's my fucking sister." He turned the sausages. "Yes, you're the babies father. Happy?"

No Bradley wasn't happy. He walked away from the barbecue, instead striding over to her. When Bob met his eyes, saw the fury in them, he stood up and pulled Natasha with him, leaving Bradley alone with the woman he had gotten pregnant.

"Jake is your brother," he said as he sat in the seat Bob once occupied. "You didn't tell me that."

"You didn't ask," she replied bitterly as she placed a potato chip between her teeth.

Bradley couldn't stop himself from staring at her bump. Fuck, she looked incredible. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to look in her eyes. "Jake said its mine."

"It's not an it," she spat. "He's a boy. And he's mine."

"But I am the father, right? Like, without my sperm you wouldn't have been able to get pregnant, right?" He challenged. It was taking everything he had to not let himself get frustrated.

She picked at her nails. "I suppose so," she mumbled and laid her hand against her bump.

"Were you never going to tell me?"

She sucked in a breath and looked up at the blue sky above her. "You were a one night stand, somebody who's name I didn't know," she said. "How was I supposed to find you? And, what was I supposed to say? 'Oh hey, remember that girl you slept with at Jakes barbecue? Well I'm pregnant. By the way, whats your name?'"

Bradley sucked in a breath. She wasn't right and, by the look on her face, she knew it. But there was nothing they could do to change it now. Instead, he held his hand out towards her. "My names Bradley," he said as she placed her hand in his. "What's yours?"

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, bradley being a nervous first time daddy, wc: 3.8k

…

“This… doesn’t look right.” Bradley pulls back and rests his hands against his hips, staring at the car seat with an unimpressed gaze frown.

“Sure it does.” You answer, peering around him to examine the situation in front of you. The straps are secure at the top of his chest, his plush cheek resting against the padded restraints.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look comfortable.” Bradley answers you with a shake of his head. This is his second practice of the day. He doesn’t want Tom to be in the car seat too long, but he knows that his most significant job in all of this is getting the two of you home safe.

He leans forwards and begins to fiddle with the straps again. Your newborn doesn’t seem fussed by his neurotic, worried dad anyways. Bradley hums. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll figure it out.”

“The Bradshaws! — How are we this morning?”

This, Thomas is fussed by. Over the last six days, the first six of his life, you’ve figured that your son has some pretty sharp reflexes. Even just blowing on his cheek makes him flinch. He jumps, arms and legs tensing at once, his still unfocused eyes blowing wide open as the doctor strolls into the room.

His lip begins to wobble and his nose scrunches up tight, his hands trembling under the confines of his mittens. You nudge Bradley out of the way and unclasp the straps right as Thomas begins to cry.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to spook this little sweetheart.” The doctor is smiling and reaching out to tickle the infant’s back and on your end, everything is forgiven. Bradley, however, glares at her as he reaches his son.

You hadn’t been expecting the same guy who once jumped off of the roof of a neighbouring frat house and into their pool to be such a nervous nelly when it came to parenthood. Especially not the same guy who told you he wanted no part in any of this.

You roll your eyes, rocking softly, shushing the baby. These past six days have taught you a lot of things. That the birthmark on the bottom of Thomas’ back is kind of the shape of Italy. That even though he can’t see much yet, he likes to look around while he’s being fed. That Bradley is not fast enough at changing diapers yet to avoid getting peed on.

That somehow, you and Bradley might have just created the most perfect little boy in the entire world. With his thatches of brown hair and his tiny fingers and toes, his sloped nose and poured lips. Those funny, jumpy reflexes.

“I’m just here to do some tests, see if we can get you guys home today.” She tells you with a bright smile. From the way that your face changes, she can tell that this is the news that you’ve been waiting for. Six days of barely walking, hearing other people’s babies screaming — you’ve been ready to go home for a while.

“Today? — Nobody said today. They said tomorrow.” Bradley interjects loudly. You scowl across at him and he shuts up, but the nervous way he fidgets on his feet tells you everything you need to know.

“I know, I know. But he’s doing just fine so far, and I’m sure you two are eager to sleep in your own beds again.” The doctor coos softly, learning from her initial mistake as she takes the baby from your arms. She follows your pattern of soothing and rocking and Thomas seems to consider quietening down.

Bradley pushes his hands into the pockets of his sweat shorts and just leans back against the end of the hospital bed. He’s so focused on watching this stranger with your baby that he doesn’t even hear you move until you’re pressing in against his side.

“You’re doing fine.” You promise him, stretching your open palm against the fabric of his black t-shirt, stretching your neck to look at him. “Stop stressing.”

He doesn’t say anything, and that worried frown on his face doesn’t soften either. Bradley swallows, brushes a hand over his upper lip and reaches out for you. You close

Your eyes as he secures an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, leaning down and resting his mouth against the top of your head.

He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and hospital borrowed soap.

“She called you a Bradshaw, you know.” He whispers finally, just before he straightens back up. You scoff, jabbing the tip of your index finger into his side.

“Don’t get any ideas, Pops. It’s bad enough you talked me into letting Tommy take your name.” You’re joking, of course. The amusement in your voice makes his chest feel that little bit less tight. You’ll say yes, one day. He’ll make sure it’s special and you’re not giving birth next time, and you’ll say yes.

He pinches your side playfully and tugs you closer again. “Pops? — I thought we agreed on you calling me—“

He grunts as you jerk your elbow back into his stomach, just enough to make him jolt but not enough to actually hurt the idiot you’ve come to be so fond of. There it is, he grins behind you, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle.

Minutes later, the doctor turns around to you and gives you the go-ahead. Suddenly, the little boy in the roomy onesie is all yours, and yours alone. Well, not that suddenly, there’s paperwork first. But sudden feels the only appropriate word when you’re walking out of the hospital, with no one to guide you.

Bradley’s knuckles are white around the handle of the car seat in his right hand, a slightly softer approach to the way that he’s holding your hand in his left.

“You’re sure you can walk? — They said you could have a chair, if you want a chair.” He checks, for the second time since you stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m fine.” You give his hand a soft squeeze and groan softly as you step out into the mid-summer suffocation of the Florida heat. “Now walk with purpose. It’s too hot for this.”

Settled into the backseat beside Thomas, sleeping in his car seat, you catch Bradley frowning worriedly back at the both of you before he turns the key in the ignition.

The drive home is slow, and uneventful. The baby is asleep. Bradley’s eyes are trained seriously on the road, his hands holding a steady ten and two position on the wheel. You don’t dare suggest that he turns on the radio.

There were plenty of things that you had prepared yourself for when you had decided to have your baby. Your body changing, fine. Your career plans changing, okay. The hormones and the responsibilities and the tiny human who would depend on you for probably the rest of your life, sure.

Some things about such a drastic lifestyle change simply cannot be planned for.

Nine hours ago, you brought your son home from the hospital. This is something that you would never admit out loud, but in those last few days of your pregnancy, the concern had flooded your mind that maybe your feelings for Bradley were purely hormonal. You were carrying his child, it makes sense that your body would want him around. It was the after that had concerned you.

But, you had watched today as Bradley had carried the car seat in one hand and secured you by his side with the other. He had buckled your son into the car, and he had driven home under the speed limit the entire way.

You exhale softly as you step out of the shower. That’s growing easier now, six days later, but your body is far from healed. Your legs still tremble when you try to stand too long, and your back aches in a way you’re starting to worry might be permanent.

It’s quiet in your apartment now. You listen out as you towel dry your body, trying to find the pitch of a sports narrator or some soft music — anything. It’s almost dead silent.

You wriggle into your pyjamas and wrap your wet hair, walking slow out of the bathroom and down the hall. You’re barely dry, your warm feet padding along the carpet, wrinkled fingers pushing open the door to the bedroom.

One of the things that none of the articles you had read seemed to mention, is what to do the first time that you see the father of your child at home with your baby.

Bradley’s sitting up against the pillows with Thomas nestled against his chest. His hand eclipses the infant’s torso as he pats his back softly. Thomas’ cheek is resting against Bradley’s pectoral, you can’t see from where you are but instinct and your son’s uncharacteristic stillness tells you that he’s sleeping.

Bradley’s singing. He’s patting the baby’s back gently and he’s singing softly, trying hard to push the usually deep rumble of his voice into lullaby territory.

Your mouth falls slack, cold feet becoming still against the soft floor. This tiny first apartment and its discernible wooden doors that creak at every opportunity give you away and he stops just as quickly as he is perceived.

His gaze flickers up and his lips twist softly into a small smile. You watch him take account of your matching maternity pyjamas which threaten to be too big without the stretch of your bump. Amusement floods the hint of the smile on his lips — he loves to laugh at these pyjamas.

His hand stills against Thomas’ back, those glittery brown eyes flicker up to study the look on your face.

“Hey, babe,” He hums, keeping his voice low so that he doesn’t startle the baby. “How was your shower?”

“I didn’t think I would miss our shitty water pressure, but I’m just so glad we’re not at the hospital anymore.” You pad across the carpet towards him and crawl into bed, pulling back the sheets and draping yourself across Bradley’s brawny thighs.

He looks down at you and secures the infant close to his chest, freeing one hand to brush tenderly across your cheek.

“What was that song were you singing him?” You ask. The ceiling fan whirs above you like a thrumming, excessively loud lullaby. The warmth of his thigh props up your cheek.

There’s something about it all that feels too much like a dream. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The NICU isn’t exactly a luxury retreat, despite its price point. Tonight is your first night home from the hospital. Your son is six days old and yesterday, he officially crossed the threshold into five pound territory. Tonight, he’s huddled against Bradley’s bare chest, wearing a diaper that had seemed too tiny for an actual human to wear and zipped into a onesie printed with little ducks on it. Geese, maybe, actually.

You lift your hand and reach out, watching your fingertip follow the soft cotton covering those wrinkled lines on the sole of Thomas’ foot that you’ve come to be so familiar with already.

The infant curls his toes and unclenches them again, scrunching his knees. Bradley watches, lips twisted into a smile that he couldn’t fight back if he tried.

There’s something about the steady, heavy thrum of Bradley’s heartbeat that puts the kid right to sleep. The warm bath and the ounce of milk that came before he was set on his dad’s stomach may have helped too. Bradley’s hand cups the back of Thomas’ neck, keeping the sleeping baby steady.

“Wildflowers by, uh— Tom Petty, I think?” Bradley shrugs. In truth, he knows the song inside and out — it was the first song he learned to play on piano. He’s used to playing that down. Girls find guitars hot, not his years of classical piano lessons.

You smile, lifting your head and pressing a gentle kiss to the sole of the baby’s foot, soft blue cottons

against your lips. Then, you lower your mouth and press it softly to Bradley’s stomach. Just once, before you drop your head back down and set it against his thigh.

“He’s so good, and I’m still exhausted.” You murmur, exhaling deeply. Behind heavy lids, you make a mental note to look into which ingredient in the smell of baby soap acts as such a good sleeping agent.

“You should sleep. He’ll be up again in a couple of hours.” Bradley reminds you, stroking damp hair back off of your forehead. Closing your eyes, you nod with him, but make no effort to move. He smiles. “Come on, I don’t need to sing the both of you to sleep, do I?”

You huff a soft sound of amusement, giving a small shake of your head. “Not tonight, Pops. Put him to bed, let’s get some sleep.”

Bradley chuckles, carefully shifting your son off of his stomach and instead laying him across his thighs as you sit up.

“Mom and Dad… isn’t that crazy?” He muses, stroking his thumb across the soft hair on the infant’s head. Thomas is still so small that Bradley’s palm makes him look even tinier. You lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder and stroke the baby’s cheek.

“I know.” You agree quietly.

Big, round cheeks and pursed lips, dark eyelashes and a soft little nose. His tiny hands balled into fists, his knees curled up to his middle. Blue clouds adorning his onesie. Half you, and half Bradley.

“Alright, we’ll see you in a couple hours, little man. Yell if you need something.” Bradley half jokes as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns to set the baby into the bassinet. With the lung capacity he has already impressed you with, you know that he’ll have no issues letting you know if he wants something.

He crawls back into bed beside you and flicks the beside lamp off, pulling the covers up around the two of you. Readily, you press yourself close to him and close your eyes. He smells like baby soap.

“Are you still hurting anywhere?” Bradley’s voice lowers to a whisper now, his breath fanning across the nape of your neck as he leans his head into the crook of your shoulder and cautiously rests a hand against your hip. Into the dark, your mouth twitches at a smile.

Your hips feel both squished and torn apart at the same time. Your back feels like it might never feel quite right ever again. But even with him a cautious distance from you, you can feel the perpetual warmth from his body.

“Everywhere. But I still want you to hold me.”

Slowly, he slides an arm under you and another over you. Draping his body around yours, he pulls you close and suddenly you get whatever it is that sends Thomas off to sleep so easily. The faint musky smell of his fading cologne. The steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat. The long, deep pattern of his breathing.

Just when you think he has beat you to it, he reminds you that he’s still awake. A soft, chaste kiss presses to your throat, his voice low as he mumbles, “I love you.”

As much as Thomas is a good baby; he’s still a baby. A small one at that, with plenty of growing to do. Even now, he just about finishes an ounce of milk at a time — half of the time. That means a lot of wake ups. A lot of diaper changes with your eyes half open.

The first four days of parenthood pass you by before you’ve really come to terms with the reality of it all. Constant feeds through the night, surviving off of instant noodles and pizza — all of this doesn’t feel too far of a stretch from your recent college days.

But it’s harder now. The responsibilities are never ending. It’s hard to remain rational about any of it.

“If you could breastfeed, would you do it?”

From the other end of the couch, Bradley seems to startle awake. Brows drawing together in confusion, he stares across your dimly lit living room at you, then takes a second to look around him.

You’re at the end of the movie now, so he doesn’t have a clue how long he has been sleeping. Stretching his legs out, he sighs softly, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Your mouth twitches at the fact that he doesn’t even ask you why. He blinks softly and brings both hands up to rub at his eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?”

“Two, maybe.” You shrug, watching Thomas’ eyelids grow heavy. His hands remain balled and tucked in against his chest. He has spent these past four days stretching out occasionally, scrunching himself back into a tight ball frequently.

“No fucking way did I just sleep for four hours. The movie’s still playing.” Bradley protests, awkwardly fumbling to push himself upright and puckering his mouth into a deep frown. You just shrug across at him once more.

“I put the sequel on after you fell asleep.”

He hadn’t ever thought he would be able to have a regular conversation with a woman who had her breast out in front of him, but here he is. It doesn’t even cross his mind to check you out. The only thing he’s thinking about is the fact you’re running on maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep and all you had wanted was to watch your movie with him. And he had fallen asleep.

He fumbles around, checking his pockets for his phone, finding it instead resting between his jaw and shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment as he checks the time. In the split second that your eyes are shut, Thomas makes a spluttering sound.

As quickly as you can lift and turn him, the has already spit the last mouthful of milk back against your skin and all down his chin.

“Oh, Tommy…” You groan, adjusting the strap of your nursing bra with one hand as you support him with the other.

“Here, I’ll take him.” Bradley offers, pushing himself up and starting to scoot towards you.

“We’re fine.” Maybe it comes out a little bit harsh, maybe your tone is a little colder than normal. Bradley frowns at you, sitting still at the opposite end of the sectional. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know you didn’t.” You’re just doubling down at this point as you wipe at Thomas’ mouth with a muslin cloth. Bradley’s brows draw together a bit.

“So why are you mad at me? — Just let me help you.” He pushes forwards again and reaches for your son.

“I said we’re fine!” You bite back. The baby flinches and quickly starts to scream. You slam your eyes shut, darkness behind your lids and a dull ache drilling from your temples to the core of your brain.

Opposite you, Bradley sighs, dropping his head forward into his hands. You’re both silent. The sequel plays on. The baby keeps on screaming. Neither one of you look at each other.

This is what all new parents go through, you know that. It doesn’t make it any less sore in the moment.

“What should I do?” Bradley asks finally, pushing up from the sofa and squeezing against your side, wrapping an arm around your aching shoulders. It’s not worth dragging your eyes open for.

“Never get me pregnant again, for starters.” You mutter half-jokingly. Bradley chuckles at your side and turns his head to kiss at those sore temples, like he can feel where it hurts. Maybe those dad-senses are sharper than you give him credit for.

“Not even once more? — But look how cute the first one wa—“ He’s only joking of course, but he still has the good sense to shut up when you turn your head and glare at him. He grins, and he looks just like he did the first time you were stupid enough to melt for that pretty look.

“You hungry?” Bradley asks. He read somewhere that breastfeeding can cause stronger appetites.

“Yeah.”

“Dad’s got it. We’ll be right back.” Bradley promises you, dipping forwards and kissing your temple once more, stealing the baby in one fell swoop. “Come on, buddy.”

Bradley pads into the kitchen barefoot, bouncing the baby in his arms and you let your eyes fall shut once more. You’re only two weeks in. They don’t start sleeping through the night for another couple months at least — sometimes years. You don’t know how you could do another couple years of being this delirious.

Closing your eyes, it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re not here. That you’re still in school, or still in your parents’ house. Somewhere safer, where you could hide from the limited responsibilities that you had back then. It would be so easy to drift off into a dream about life being that easy again.

Instead, the sofa dips at your side and your boys are back. Bradley announces himself by kissing your cheek softly and pressing a spoon into your hand.

“All we have is Ice-Cream.” He tells you, settling Thomas into the crook of his elbow and passing the tub of ice cream off to you. You blink at the vanilla flavoured frozen treat in front of you, then look up to stare at him. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. We’ll both go. You can stay here and sleep in.”

You look away for just a second, digging the tip of your spoon into the ice cream, and hear him continue.

“We can get whatever we want, Mommy won’t be there to tell us no.”

Despite your best efforts, a smile itches its way across your face. You turn your head and attempt to force at a scowl. All five of Thomas’ right-hand fingers are wrapped around Bradley’s little finger, they both seem to be looking at you.

“I don’t care what you come home with as long as there’s more of this stuff in there somewhere.” You decide, slipping a spoonful into your mouth and savouring the flavour on your tongue. Bradley shifts, leaning his head against yours.

“Share.” He demands, leaving his mouth open. You snuff your nose at him as you dig another spoonful from the tub and shovel it into his mouth. “That’s so good.”

“Probably not what we should be eating. We aren’t setting a very good example.” You hum, ignoring your own advice and gulping down another spoonful, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table.

If only your mother could see you now. She would lose her marbles if she saw your approach to motherhood.

“Eh, this kid pees himself all day long. We’ll start being good examples for him later on.” Bradley shrugs, leaning his weight into you, turning his attention back to the tv. “So can you explain to me what I missed?”

…

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[katsu28]

to the moon and back

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader 

summary: bradley tries to surprise you with a Valentine’s Day date night, and you surprise him right back with something else 

warnings: none! just 2k of lovey dovey fluff

a/n: happy early valentine’s day besties!!! if u don’t have one ur gonna be mine now ok MWAH love u to the moon and back ;)

navigation

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in your apartment right now. 

You lived alone, and the only other person who had a key to your place was your boyfriend, and Bradley was meant to be on base all day, so when you got home today and saw a pair of shoes that weren’t yours nudged off to the side of the front door, you were entirely confused. Bradley’s Bronco wasn’t parked in the driveway like it usually was when he came over, but those were most definitely his shoes. 

“Bradley? You here?” You called warily, toeing off your own shoes. Normally, he’d respond immediately, oftentimes barreling out of wherever he was to come wrap you in a hug, or (no matter how much you pretended to hate it) grabbing you from behind as you went looking for him, peppering your neck with kisses until you begged him to stop. 

There was no answer, but an assortment of things were spread out on the kitchen counter when you made your way there—a bouquet of flowers, a few bags filled to the brim with groceries, a bottle of wine—but no Bradley anywhere to be found. 

It wasn’t until you ventured towards the living room that you found him. Bradley was sprawled out on the couch, long legs thrown over the armrest on one side while his head laid propped up on a pillow at the other end. His arms were crossed over his chest, mouth hung slightly open whilst he snored away, blissfully unaware that you were home. 

As cute as he looked sleeping, you perched at the edge of the couch, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge so as not to startle him awake. When that didn’t work, you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

Bradley inhaled a deep breath at the feeling of your lips against his skin, craning his neck to take in his surroundings as he blinked awake slowly. 

“Mornin’, stranger,” You hummed, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. His bleary eyes focused on you, widening instantly. 

“Oh fuck!” He breathed, jumping a little in his laid back position. 

“Hi to you too, Bradley.” 

“Sorry. I mean, hi. It’s just—shit, I was gonna surprise you when you came home.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I was. Y’know, when I gave you a key, I didn’t mean use it so you can take a nap on my couch,” You teased. 

“I didn’t mean to!” He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “I had this whole Valentine’s date night thing planned, I got wine and flowers and I was gonna make dinner, but I sat down for literally just a second and now…” 

“Hey, Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet. We can still do that,” You hummed, lacing your fingers through his with a pat to his knee. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Or,” he sat up suddenly, lunging and pulling you on top of him in one fell swoop, “we could just stay here on this couch all night, doing…stuff.” His nose rubbed against your cheek, lips following soon after in an attempt to bribe you to stay put. 

“While ‘stuff’ does sound very enticing, I’m actually kinda hungry, so…” Bradley was up in a split second, hefting you over his shoulder with ease. “Bradley!” You squealed, clutching at the hem of his shirt for leverage as he hiked over to the kitchen and planted you on one of the barstools. 

“You, stay right there. Do not let that cute butt leave that stool until I’m done here, got it?” He ordered, pointing at you with raised brows. You nodded, propping your chin up in your hand with a barely contained smile. He shuffled towards one of the cabinets, grabbing a wine glass and popping open the bottle he’d brought, pouring you a nice glass then cracking open a beer from the fridge for himself. 

He expertly located a vase in a different cabinet and filled it with water before sliding all three items across the counter to you. “These are for you, by the way.” 

“You know my favorites.” Your smile grew even wider at the thought, if at all possible. Bradley knew you well enough to get your favorite flowers and wine without even having to ask.

He snorted, seemingly offended that you dared mention it. “‘Course I know your favorites. It’s like, at the very front of my brain, all the time. The most important stuff, y’know?” 

“I feel like the most important stuff should be Navy related, no? Mister flies-a-multi-million-dollar-jet for a living.” 

“Yeah, that’s important too. But tell me who knows all your favorite things off the top of their head? You don’t even really have to tell me because the answer is me.” 

“Okay hotshot, if you’re such an expert, what’s for dinner?” 

He rattled off your favorite meal and dessert immediately, barely a second of hesitation before he started unpacking the bags on the counter. “Put the flowers in the vase for me, would ya? Make ‘em real nice and pretty, ‘cause that’s all I’m letting you do for the rest of the night.” 

“Bradley,” You whined, pouting at him. “I wanna help!” 

“No, this is my thing. Get your own!” 

“You’re insufferable.” You huffed, glaring at him sulkily. Bradley didn’t respond, just winked at you as he donned the hot pink ‘Kiss the chef’ apron you’d gotten for him as a joke a few months ago. You thought he’d hate it, but to your surprise, he was actually quite taken with it, opting to put it on every time he was in your kitchen and demand kisses “because the apron said so”. 

Dinner was ready soon enough, and now you were sat down at the table, thoroughly wiped from the long day you’d both had but still happy to spend this time with each other. You’d never get tired of seeing Bradley sitting across from you almost everyday, but especially today with how thoughtful he was being. It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Loved. Like you always did with him. 

“Thank you for making dinner, Bradley, this looks—wow, this looks amazing.”

“‘Course, anything for my girl. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He held his beer out to cheers your wine glass, beaming at you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bradley.” 

“Okay, not to, like, diminish the romance here, but I really think this is some of my best cooking yet, so dig in.” 

-------

Dinner and dessert had been long since finished, but you and Bradley were still sitting at the table, where he had just finished telling you about how Fanboy had accidentally turned Payback’s underwear pink by putting a red shirt in the laundry. 

Bradley’s hand lifted to scratch at his cheek, and with that action you suddenly remembered something. 

“I have something for you.” You blurted, lips quirking up into a smile. 

“Please tell me it’s just you, me, and the rest of this wine while we watch shitty romcoms, because I really don’t need anything other than that.” 

“It’s just a little thing!” You protested, sliding out of your chair and dropping a kiss to his cheek before hurrying to your room to grab it. Bradley was still sitting in his seat when you returned, though he was now sporting a rather confused look on his face when you perched at the edge of the table, pressing a wooden box into his palm. “For Valentine’s Day. My gift to you.” 

“What is this?” He asked softly, looking up at you. You just smiled warmly, nodding for him to open it and he did, brow creasing for a split second at the contents. Sitting inside was a vintage watch, a little scuffed on the face with a leather strap weathered from use, but still ticking strongly. 

You gauged his reaction carefully, waiting for the moment his confusion turned to realization at what he was actually holding in his hands. 

“Wait. Is this…” He trailed off, flipping it around carefully, looking for the telltale inscription on the back that would confirm his suspicions. Just as he thought, the words etched into the metal were just as he remembered them, the same words he’d read and reread a thousand times when he was a kid. 

My darling Nick, I love you to the moon and back. Love, your Carole.

Disbelieved, Bradley’s eyes flicked to you, mouth dropping open just the tiniest bit. “This is my dad’s.”

You nodded, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. His face split into a blinding grin, one so big that his eyes crinkled at the edges as he leaned forward in his chair, one large hand splaying along your back to pull you across his lap with ease. 

“You like it?” 

“Like it? I love it.” He nodded earnestly, placing the watch gently back into the box before giving your hip a little squeeze. “Little thing, my ass! Honey, this is…so much more than just a little thing, where’d you even find it?” 

“I can’t take all the credit here, I did have a little help from Mav. He’s the one who dug it out of all of your mom’s stuff.” 

“And you got it working again!” 

“Took it to a watch repair shop a few towns over.” You shrugged, tracing a finger along the buttons of his shirt. “I was gonna replace the glass over the face, but I figured you’d wanna keep it just the way your dad did. We can still switch it out if you want though—” 

Bradley shook his head profusely. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re literally perfect, and I’m—shit, how did I get so lucky to find you?” 

“Funny, I ask myself the same thing about you all the time.” You said softly, taking his face in your hands and pressing your forehead against his. Bradley’s eyes fell shut briefly as he leaned into your touch, arms tightening around your waist until there wasn’t any more space between the two of you. 

You took advantage of that closeness to take him by surprise, kissing him square on the mouth, firm but slow. You hoped he could feel how much you loved him through it. 

Bradley’s hand found your knee, giving it a squeeze before starting to rub mindless circles as he kissed you back passionately. It would be totally cliche to say that his kiss sent butterflies through your stomach, his touch sending electricity through your veins, but you’d gladly use every single cliche in the book to describe the way Bradley Bradshaw made you feel, right now, all the time, every single moment you were with him. Even times when you weren’t with him too. That was just the effect he had on you. 

“I love you to the moon and back, sweet girl.” 

You beamed. “Yeah?” 

“Absolutely yeah. You’re the girl of my dreams, and I promise you, I’m gonna marry you one day.” 

“Wow, big dreams, huh?” You teased, sliding your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Well y’know what they say, go big or go home,” He shrugged, offering you a cheeky wink. “And I, for one, am not planning on going home anytime soon.” 

“That’s presumptuous of you.” 

“Oh please, like you were gonna let me leave tonight in the first place.” 

“You’re never leaving, Bradley Bradshaw.” You murmured, stroking your thumb across his cheek. “I’m gonna keep you forever, you wanna know why?” 

Bradley looked equal parts pleased and amused, eyes shining with nothing but the purest of love as he gazed at you. “Why?” 

“‘Cause I love you to the moon and back.”

“There you go again,” He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Taking my thing.” 

“Uh no, technically it was your parents’ thing.” You fired back, tipping your chin up defiantly. Bradley laughed, a booming chuckle that resonated through your body. 

“So it’s a Bradshaw thing.” 

“According to you, I’ll be a Bradshaw one day, so…” 

“What a day that’ll be, huh, sweetheart? Gonna be the best day of my life.” 

“Well then you better hurry up and propose to me already, shouldn’t you?” 

“Look who’s presumptuous now!” 

“You’re insufferable, Bradshaw.”

It wouldn’t be now, and maybe it wouldn’t be any time soon, but when the day came and the question was popped, there was nobody else you’d even dream of spending the rest of your life with other than the insufferable Bradley Bradshaw. 

taglist!

@jakexfmc @oliviah-25 @yearningforeddiemunson @atarmychick007 @theliterarybeldam @katieshook02 @lilyevanswhore @s00buwu @mak-32 @littlebugs @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @alexxavicry @xcastawayherosx @glenpowellsstargirl @liveloudwriteloud @caatheeriinee07 @lunamooncole @maciejane @julesclues @random-human02 @waywardhunter95 @mystickenz @godabandonedthistimeline @yelrah127 @iambuckysbae @cdauni @t0kyoreveng3rs @ravenhood2792 @mayempress

[thewulf]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on miles teller in which the reader is an actress in her early 20's and they're costars in top gun: maverick. she plays maverick's pilot daughter who's also rooster's love interest. they have a lot of chemistry both on and off screen and end up falling in love and dating during filming, but they keep it a secret from everyone mainly because of the age gap. despite this, everyone in the cast can see they're in love and even the fans have noticed from the interviews, etc..

the rest is up to you

thank you :)

I am SO sorry i am just now seeing this.

This is just precious and I'm adding it right to my list! I'm finishing up Who are You Part 3 and then I will begin working on this one :)

[spiderispunk]

return the favor

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fem!Reader. Mentions of Pregnancy. Reader and Bradley Have A Son. Dilf!Bradley. Oral Sex (m! receiving). Dirty Talk. Domesticity. 

Summary: He’d traded flight suits and fatigues for sweatpants and a t-shirt. And despite the fact that both items of clothing tended to get covered in spit-up by the end of the day, he still managed to make them look sexy. You wanted him every time you saw him, and judging from the little smirk Bradley wore whenever he caught you staring for a beat too long, he knew it too.

A/N: Honestly, I blame @withahappyrefrain​, @ouralcohol​, and Bud Light for this. 

Little Nicholas “Nicky” Bradshaw came into the world kicking and screaming. Though he chose to make his grand entrance at around 3:30 AM on a quiet Thursday night, he was hell-bent on letting the whole world know about it. And so, with a whirlwind of forms, bills, and the shrill cries of the darling baby boy, you and Bradley were thrust into the throes of parenthood.

You both handled it well, or as well as you could for first timers. Working as a team to tackle midnight bottles, blowouts, spit-up and the frequent sleepless nights. You’d settled into an easy rhythm over the past seven weeks. Bottles every 2-3 hours. Naps in-between. Diaper changes. A little tummy-time when Nicky would tolerate it. 

Day in. Day out.

You were worried the Navy-issued twelve weeks of parental leave would make Bradley squirrely– the repetition would become tedious–but here you were more than half-way through, and you hadn’t heard him complain about a thing. 

If anything, Bradley took to the role of fatherhood eagerly. Sure, he might have missed being on base, the camaraderie, the planes, but he has other things to think about now. And he wouldn’t trade all the excitement for the joy of spending time with you and his son. 

Everyday was another milestone, and so far Bradley had been there to witness them all. 

“Nicky blinked at me today.” 

“He almost turned his head.” 

“I think I heard him try to say da-da.” 

“He drank his whole bottle!”

“Do you think he’s old enough to wear shoes yet?” 

Deeper down inside there was the growing fear of his impending absence . It wasn’t a question of if, but when . A mission would come, the phone would ring, and the goodbyes would begin. Pictures and grainy videos would stand in for the real thing.  

But he was here now, and he was determined to soak up as much as he could.   

Fatherhood suited Bradley. 

He’d traded flight suits and fatigues for sweatpants and a t-shirt. And despite the fact that both items of clothing tended to get covered in spit-up by the end of the day, he still managed to make them look sexy. 

It would be infuriating if it didn’t turn you on so damn much. Of course, it didn’t help that he’d opted to let the stubble on his chin get scruffy now that he didn’t have to comply with on-base grooming standards. 

For you, hopped up on hormones and the longing that comes with forced post-birth abstinence, it was a truly lethal combination. More than once, you’d gotten lost in your daydreams about what the coarse hair would feel like as his lips caressed your skin. Trailing down your neck, over your sensitive nipples, scratching between your thighs. 

You wanted him every time you saw him, and judging from the little smirk Bradley wore whenever he caught you staring for a beat too long, he knew it too. 

You try to push the horny thoughts to the furthest recesses of your mind, as you enjoy the quiet afternoon. It’s a rare occasion. Nicky’s nap is going longer than usual–probably because he kept you and Bradley up the entire night before–so you’re trying to relish the stillness.  

You doze on the couch, head pillowed in Bradley’s lap while he scrolls through the endless black hole of his phone. His thumb circles mindless patterns into your upper arm and shoulder. He hums quietly under his breath. 

The TV is on, David Attenborough going on and on about the ocean and all its wonderful creatures. Sleep tugs heavy on your eyelids, aided by the soothing drone of his voice, and the patch of warm sunlight that falls over you. 

You’re thinking you might finally be able to catch up on lost sleep, when a wail crackles through the baby monitor. Harsh and breathy, it shatters the silence, snapping you to attention. A hunger cry. 

You sit up, rubbing a hand over your face. “He’s due for a bottle.” You stretch your arms to the sky, groaning as the muscles in your back and shoulders stretch and loosen. “I’ll go warm one up.”

“Hey.” Bradley’s hand curls around your waist. “I got it.”

“You fed him last time,” you protest, turning to face him. “Stayed up with him for half the night, and changed his diaper three times in a row. S’not fair for you to do everything.”  

He cups your face, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip. “I got it. He’s my kid. ‘Sides you were falling asleep.”

“Bradley–”

He cuts you off with a quick kiss. “Baby. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll take care of Nicky.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you promise, eyes not-so-subtly scanning over his body. 

Bradley chuckles. “No payment necessary.” He kisses your forehead and then your lips once more. “Get some rest, yeah?” 

You nod, and stretch back out onto the couch. Bradley pulls the crocheted throw blanket over you and, with one last smile, heads upstairs.   

The door to the nursery squeals, and then you hear his voice through the baby monitor. 

“Hey, Nicky,” Bradley whispers. “Look at you. Sleep okay, bubba? Yeah? You ready for lunch?” 

The one-sided conversation continues as Bradley changes Nicky’s diaper. He asks about Nicky’s dream, tells him some of the facts he picked up from Our Planet, and shares his latest sports predictions. 

“Your Auntie Natasha thinks the Padres have a shot this year. I told her she was crazy at first, but I might be eating my words soon.” A pause. “That means I’ll have to admit I was wrong. It’s an idiom. Your mama’s the English teacher though, she can teach you all about that later.” 

You smile dopily at his words. The easygoing way he interacts with your baby. He’d been so worried at first. Scared to fail, scared Nicky wouldn’t like him. But there was no denying the simple fact that Bradley was meant to be a father. He proved that more and more everyday.  

The steps creak as Bradley begins his descent. “Gotta be quiet, okay? Your mama’s sleepin’. Yeah, you tired her out last night.”

You hear him moving around in the kitchen and then the soft gurgling of the bottle warmer. Nicky whines impatiently, and Bradley distracts him with more stories. The effect of his words are two-fold, soothing both your baby and you. You blink sleepily, snuggled up on the couch all comfortable and warm. A few minutes later, aided by the hush of Bradley’s voice, you fall into sweet unconsciousness. 

When you wake later, the room is wrapped in shadows. The once bright sunlight has started to dim. You swallow thickly, tasting stale breath. Your body aches from sleeping in the cramped space, limbs still heavy with sleep. 

You reach for your phone sitting face down on the coffee table. The screen is bright in the dark room. You squint to make out the round numbers. 5:52 . Fuck. You’d been asleep for hours . 

“Babe!” You call out. “Why’d you let me sleep this long?” No answer. “ Bradley .” 

Still nothing. The house was uncharacteristically quiet. The baby monitor wasn’t picking anything up either. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest, stomach turning with the thick ice of dread. 

You tap your phone screen again, looking for a message or a missed call. Any kind of clue as to where Bradley had disappeared off to. There’s a text waiting for you, must’ve missed it in your initial alarm. You scan it quickly and breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Almost out of diapers. Went to the store with Nicky. Don’t freak out. Love you honey. 

Panic now abated, you drop the phone back onto your chest. You should probably get up and do something, anything . There was no shortage of chores to do around the house. Laundry to fold. Dishes to wash. You were due for a pumping session too. But try as you might, and admittedly you don’t try very hard, you can’t bring yourself to disturb the peace. So you stay on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep.

You must have fallen asleep again, because sometime later you’re startled awake by the click of the front door. 

“Bradley?” you mumble, rubbing the heel of your hands into your eyes. 

“Hey, honey.” He kicks the door shut behind him. “Sleep okay?” 

“Yeah.” You stretch. “Freaked me out a little when I woke up and you guys were gone.”

Bradley kisses your forehead and flicks a lamp on. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to, but I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

You draw in a sharp breath when you see him. He’s looking sinful in a pair of jeans and a dark blue Henley. A backwards baseball cap rests atop his unruly hair. Your eyes flit over his body, head to toe. He prattles on about his errand, completely unaware of the fact that you’re currently undressing him with your eyes.

Somehow, at this moment, he’s the hottest he’s ever been. 

“Got more diapers. They’re in the car. I wanted to bring Nicky in first and get him settled. He fell asleep on the drive back. He got a compliment from the lady at the register. Honestly I think all this attention is starting to go to his head. Can’t help that he’s so cute though, he got it from you. I also got more onesies, cuz I saw them in Target and couldn’t help it. Oh and those peanut butter cups that you like from Trader Joes, and…” He trails off, catching you staring. “What?” 

“Babe,” you mumble, still in your lust-fueled trance. 

“Yeah?” Bradley’s eyebrows knit together. 

“C’mere.” 

He sets Nicky’s carseat down gently. “You’re looking at me weird. Did I do something wrong?” He asks, moving over to you slowly. 

You shake your head. “You let me take a nap, and you went to get diapers without me asking you to.”

“Uh huh. So?” He looks down at you, lips pursed. “I still don’t understand why you’re looking at me like that.” 

You don’t answer. Instead, you grab the waistband of his jeans and pull him towards you. 

“Whoa, baby.” Bradley stumbles forward. His hand covers your fumbling ones. “What are you doing?” 

Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You undo his belt and pop the button of his jeans. 

“I mean it looks like you’re about to–” his gaze flits to where Nicky rests still fast asleep in his carseat. “Suck my dick,” his voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “Wait, right here? Shouldn’t we move–”

There was definitely logic in his words, but it didn’t really register at the moment. The only thing on your mind was him . Emerald tinted lenses colored your world. Greed plain and simple. For the taste of him. For the weight of him on your tongue. For the sound of his throaty groans to fill the air. 

“Bradley,” you whisper, lips following the trail of dark hair down his stomach to where it disappears into his elastic waistband. 

Your husband swallows thickly. “Yeah, honey?” 

You free his cock from his boxers. “Stop talking.” 

“But, sweetheart– oh fuck .” Bradley runs a hand over his face. 

“Let me return the favor.” You shush him. 

“You don’t have to do–” Bradley chokes as you swipe your tongue over his hip bone. “ Shit . Okay, yeah.” 

You spit into your palm and stroke him slowly. He’s halfway there, but getting harder with each languid flick of your wrist. You sink your teeth into his thigh and he groans throatily. The noise settles deep into your stomach, pulsing against your clit. 

You missed this. The heady paradox of being on your knees, yet having Bradley completely at your mercy. Making him feel good. Pulling him apart piece by piece. 

You mouth at the base of his cock, tongue laving at the underside of it. Bradley rests a hand at the nape of your neck. There’s no force behind the gesture, it’s more like he’s anchoring himself than pushing you further onto him.

“Fuck, baby.” His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw slack, and lips slightly parted. “ Christ. ” He rocks his hips forward into your hand. 

A wordless plea. You know what he’s asking for. Your mouth slides up his shaft slowly, and you swirl your tongue around the head, still pushing, still teasing. It’s only when Bradley moans brokenly that you decide to have mercy on him. 

Your lips part, and you swallow him down slowly. His head tilts forward and he lets out a breathless whisper of your name that has you squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 

Bradley’s a perfect picture of debauchery above you. Shoulders drooped and leaning over you slightly. His face is flushed, eyebrows screwed together. The veins on his neck and arm bulge prominently. His grip on your neck tightens, and he gently guides you forward. 

You take as much as you can handle, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth. Your jaw aches from the lack of practice. But it’s worth every bit of discomfort to hear the moans and praises he levels your way. 

“Your mouth feels so goddamn good, honey,” he whispers, when his cock hits the back of your throat. “Just like that, baby. Such a good girl. You’re doing so good. Keeping going, sweetheart.”

Your hand drifts downward of its own accord, and dips into the waistband of your leggings. You rub insistent circles into your clit to relieve the ache. It’s been so long, you think you could come from this alone.

“Look at you getting off,” he says, hazel eyes blazing into your own. “Wish you could see how pretty you look with my dick in your mouth, baby,” he mumbles, lazily thrusting forward.

Bradley cups your jaw, thumb rubbing over your cheek where he can feel his cock moving. He rolls his hips forward again, biting his bottom lip as he watches your lips stretch to accommodate him. 

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing your hair out of your face so he can see you better. “Taking me so well. Gonna make me come.”

You moan, and Bradley chuckles.

“That what you want? Want me to come down your throat?” 

You blink up at him, pleading with watery eyes. You wanted it more than anything. 

“Yeah? Gonna swallow every drop, like a good girl?” The thought sends a shudder down his spine. “My good girl. Won’t last long with you looking at me like that.” 

That’s the plan . 

You move the hand on his thigh around to gently squeeze his balls, and Bradley thrusts forward sharply.

“ Shit –sorry, baby.” His thumb brushes at the newly shed tears that track down your face. “You okay?” The fire in his eyes dies slightly as he searches your gaze for any sign of pain or reluctance to continue. 

Instead the only thing he finds there is hunger and greed. 

This time when you squeeze, you’re ready for his reaction. You take his next roll of his hips easily. And the next, and the next. Letting Bradley gently fuck your face. He was close, you could tell by the slur of his words, the inconsistent buck of his hips. 

“Goddammit,” Bradley says through gritted teeth. His fingers snag into your hair, tugging at the nape. “Gonna fucking kill me, honey.” His chest heaves with shallow breaths. “‘M gonna come, sweetheart. You ready for me?” 

Please, oh please . Your thoughts chant, words blurring into a slurry. You hope your eyes convey the desperation you feel. 

Bradley’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He bites his pointer finger, trying to muffle the shameless groan he lets out as he unravels. 

You take all he gives, and he gives you so much. His cum coats your throat, and you swallow as much as you can, but you have to pull away for air. The last dribbles of his cum paint your lower lip and drip down your chin. You tilt your head back and stick your tongue out to show off your empty mouth. 

Bradley stares at you, eyes crossed and unfocused. He pushes his hat off and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “Fuck, baby.” 

He swipes at your lip, smearing the cum and spit into your skin. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” You smirk. 

“All innocent and shit.” Bradley pushes his ring finger into your mouth. “I’ll fuck you right here.” 

You clean the digit off with your tongue and pull away with a pop . “You promise?” You arc an eyebrow up.

“Fuck.” He leans down and gives you a kiss that leaves your toes curling. “Give me five minutes to put Nicky in bed, and I’ll be right back.” He whispers. 

You lean back and peel your shirt from your body. “ Tick tock .” 

Bradley bites his bottom lip, eyes sliding hungrily over your body. “Don’t go anywhere.” He points a stern finger at you. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you chuckle. “Hurry up so you can fuck me.” 

He grabs the carseat, and still manages to be gentle despite his obvious excitement. “Five minutes, baby, I promise.” 

Bradley’s never one to break a promise. 

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Request for Rooster please :) basically fluff, not sure if you have something like this already but something along the line of y/n being a pilot as well, Rooster falling for them and trying to potentially impress them? Trying to confess before his chance is loss because he sees hangman around y/n time to time but Rooster doesn’t find out (immediately) that hangman and y/n are siblings so Rooster is torn between confessing or not (he does end up confessing)

Ahh thank you for the super cute request! I have a thing for writing sisters, you know ;)

Worst Day Ever

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Seresin Sister!Reader

CW: Just a lil drabble, nothing fancy. A little cheesy. A bit fluffy. A lot goofy. The star of this show is Nat XD

WC: ~1100

“This is the worst day ever.”

Natasha looks over at Bradley as he moodily packs up his things at the end of the briefing. She grins in amusement. “You sound like a toddler.”

Bradley exhales gloomily and directs his gaze toward the front of the room where you stand, chatting with Bagman. “What does she see in that dirtbag?” he makes a face of disgust.

“I guess she sees his abs.” Natasha shrugs.

Bradley gives her a flat look. “Not you too.”

“What?” she exclaims with a laugh. “I’m not denying that he’s got a shit personality.” She glances over at you and Jake. “But he’s easy on the eyes, what can I say?”

“Maybe I should challenge him to a push up contest,” Bradley muses.

“Dude, we’re in the military.” Natasha shakes her head. “Push ups are not going to impress her.”

“But his abs did the trick?”

Natasha purses her lips. “Have you seen him flex?”

“Maybe you should bag him,” Bradley proposes sourly. Then, he adds, “Actually, that’s not a half bad idea!”

“No,” Natasha responds curtly and starts for the door.

“C’mon, Trace. I will owe you.” Bradley trails after her. “I will pay you.”

Natasha stops just short of the door. “To do what?”

“We’ll invite them to the Hard Deck. You distract Bagman –”

“No,” Natasha repeats, exiting the room.

“I thought you had my back!” Bradley calls after her as the rest of the aviators assigned to the mission start filing out into the hallway.

“Someone leave you hangin’, Rooster?” Jake asks playfully as he walks by.

Bradley flashes an annoyed look in his direction and sees that you’re walking alongside him. He locks eyes with you briefly – for the first time ever – and then glances back at Jake irritably. “Don’t worry, Bagman. That’s still your undisputed domain.”

Jake scoffs while you drop your head to hide a smile.

“Hey Bagman!” Natasha calls from down the hall.

Bradley looks up to see her doubling back.

“You guys want to join us at the Hard Deck tonight?” she asks casually.

Jake raises his eyebrows in surprise, so shocked at the invitation that he doesn’t respond right away.

That’s when you say, “Sure! We’ll be there!”

…

“Drink as much as you want, Phoenix,” Bradley says giddily. “It’s on me.”

“You bet your ass it is,” Natasha says, taking a swig of beer. “I’m going to need it.”

Bradley doesn’t have a chance to laugh because that’s when you and Jake enter the bar.

The two of you make your way over to Bradley and Natasha’s table. Jake is scowling but your smile is bright enough for the both of you.

“Hey!” Bradley says, rising from his seat to greet you.

Jake gives him a dirty look and Bradley squares his shoulders to appear a little taller. Jake might have gotten to you first but that doesn't mean that Bradley can't, at least, try.

“How’s it going?” you say as you take a seat and Bradley could swear they’re the three sweetest words he’s ever heard in his life.

“Great,” he responds, beaming at you like an idiot.

“So good,” Natasha responds absently, downing the remainder of her beer. “I need a refill.”

Jake, who is just about to sit down, rises again with an irritable sigh. “What’re you drinking?” he asks.

Natasha grimaces at him. “I can get my own beer,” she responds, also getting up.

Jake gives her a phony grin. “I guess you’re used to it,” he bites back.

You elbow Jake aggressively in his leg and he nearly loses his balance. “Be nice,” you warn him.

Bradley watches Natasha and Jake head to the bar together, surprised that you’re familiar enough with Jake to physically assault him considering the briefing this morning was only the third time you’ve met. Bradley wonders if maybe you know Jake from before; that would explain your allegiance.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Bradley says to you, not really sure how else to start a conversation with a girl who’s more or less spoken for.

You smile at him. “Yeah, thanks for the invite!”

“Of course,” Bradley responds. He decides not to mention that the entire night was orchestrated just so he could spend time with you.

“Jake’s pretty excited.”

Bradley lifts his eyebrows dubiously and looks over at Jake who’s at the bar with Natasha. “He’s got a weird way of showing it.”

You laugh. “Oh, he’s far too ‘badass’ to show it.”

Bradley snorts and looks back at you with a grin. “I like you,” he says before he can stop himself.

You chuckle slightly and lower you gaze without responding.

“I mean it,” he says.

You shift slightly in your seat and change the subject. “Your low altitude pass yesterday was pretty awesome,” you say.

Bradley grins and straightens his posture proudly. “You saw that?”

“It was hard to miss.” You cringe slightly. “Cyclone was so mad, I'm surprised you didn't hear him yelling from the cockpit.”

Bradley winces. “Yeah, I may have gotten into some trouble. But hey, if it means you noticed me, it was worth it.” He lets out a chuckle.

You smile, your eyes resting on his. "I noticed you," you admit.

Bradley keeps his gaze on you, releasing a guilty sigh. What's he doing flirting with you when Jake has clearly already shown interest? He hangs his head sullenly and says, "Look, I don’t know what you and Bagman have going on –”

“Umm,” you interject, holding up a hand. Bradley looks up at you, already nauseated because he’s fairly certain you’re about to tell him off. Instead, you proceed to say, “You know he’s my brother, right?”

Bradley blinks at you in awe. After several lengthy seconds, he says, “Shut the fuck up.”

You start laughing. “What did you think?”

Bradley drops his face in his hands, embarrassed and relieved in equal measure. “That’s why you like him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” you mutter sarcastically.

Bradley nearly chokes. “You’re hilarious,” he says.

You lean into the table toward him. “And you’re cute.”

Bradley stares at you in amazement and then grins sheepishly. “I’m so glad you think so.”

“Alright kids,” Bradley hears Jake’s voice and realizes that he and Natasha have approached the table. “We’re gonna call it a night.”

“What? Already?” Bradley exclaims, looking up at them. He instantly observes that Jake is holding Natasha’s hand. “Oh,” Bradley adds, meeting Natasha’s gaze with an amused grin. “Well, this is turning out to be an alright day.”

Natasha shoots him a threatening look but says not a word.

“Bradshaw,” Jake says, narrowing his eyes as he glances between you and Bradley pointedly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Bradley solutes him with a nod and a smirk and then says, “You have yourself a good night, Seresin.”

Rooster Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments.

@rosiahills22

@olliepig

@xoxabs88xox

@callsignvenus

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

@ijustwantedplums

@Elenavampire21

@SometimesAnAlice

@risingtripletaurus

@desert-fern

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@graciereads

@pono-pura-vida

@ltfirecracker

@rascallyrascals

@kitty-moonflower-blog

@Melody-death

@bellaireland1981

@justlurkingplsignore

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@mandyppp

@eloquentdreamer

@topherwrites

@jessicab1991

@seitmai

@novastories

@stoneyggirl2

@roosterandme

@julielightwood

@primroseluna

@diorrfairy

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@dontletthemtakeyoualive

@schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker

@memoriesat30

@igotmajordaddyissues

@widemiffyhappy

@queerqueenlynn

@hizzielover

@ttokkisbee

@justmymindandstuff

@jrdyn

@callsign-mayhem

@og-baby-ob14

@chewymoustachio

@itsizzythebell

@marvelshoney

@sarcastic-sourwolf