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Keep writing, keep drawing, keep reblogging!

Old Photos

Summary: Maverick is approached by the pilots on Rooster’s old photos. Rooster catches them and wonders how Maverick has them.

Writers note: AM IN LOVE WITH TOP GUN- This is the first ever fanfic/ one shot i ever posted on here, so uh apologies for any inconsistencies or any errors !! Enjoy!!

Maverick sat at the counter of the bar. Gazing longingly at Penny Benjamin, not even realising the group of pilots that were standing behind him.

Phoenix snorts as she watches Maverick pay no attention to them. Completely enthralled by Penny who seemed to have not even noticed the admirer.

“Um, Maverick, sir?” Hangman says, standing at the side of him. Maverick’s eyes widen as he shakes his head, looking at the pilot.

“Yes? How may I help you?” He asks, smiling awkwardly.

Hangman smirks, taking a glance at Phoenix who only rolled her eyes at him. 

“You flied with Rooster’s old man back in the day right? He was your rio?”

Maverick’s face drained. He bites the inside of his cheek before nodding slowly.

“So you’re close with Rooster’s family?”

Maverick raises an eyebrow. “You could say that.”

“Do you have any old photos of Rooster?” Hangman asks, a smug smile creeping up his face. Maverick smiles. 

“Of course I do.”

~

Bradley cusses as he slams the car door close. He was late. He had promised the others he’d be there half an hour earlier but traffic had kept him in the same place for more than 10 minutes.

He enters the bar, scanning the place for his fellow pilots. Bob glances up meeting Rooster’s eye. He smiles, waving Rooster over. Rooster smiles back, putting his sunglasses on his head before making his way to the counter.

“Woah woah woah, what are you guys doing?” Rooster asks, taking a seat between Bob and Phoenix.

“I didn’t know you were a band kid Rooster,” Hangman says. Rooster’s face contorts in confusion. He looks at Hangman who was leaning down on the counter, a phone in hand, Maverick sitting next to him, smiling shyly at Rooster.

“Pardon?” Rooster says, raising an eyebrow at the smug pilot.

“You were such a cute kid,” Phoenix says, grabbing the phone from Hangman. Rooster looks at her confused. Bob snickers. 

“Maverick is showing us pictures of you as a kid,” Bob says. “You were incredibly cute!” 

“And embarrassing,” Hangman’s snorts out. “Come on? A cowboy hat to prom?” 

“Yeah? and what’s it to you?” Rooster says, staring daggers into Hangman who only smirks.

“Whoo, easy there Roos, I’m just messing around.”

Rooster watches as the man leaves the phone on the counter, walking towards Payback and Fanboy. Rooster bites the inside of his cheek, turning his attention to Maverick.

“Why did you show them those? Actually- why do you even have them?” Rooster asks, his tone low and slightly pissed. Maverick stares back, though his gaze falters.

“Rooster, I made a promise to Carole. I can’t change what has happened Bradley. I sure wish I could. I wish that you could’ve been raised by Goose, I sure as hell know that he would be an amazing father; but still, he’s… gone now,” Maverick looks straight into Rooster’s eyes who was a bit taken aback.

“I may not be your dad, but I practically raised you. Why would I not have photos of you?”

Rooster doesn’t respond, slipping into the chair next to him. “I guess you’re right,” he mumbles quietly to himself. 

Maverick chuckles. “You were definitely a cute kid; though very… rambunctious.” 

“And an awful fashion taste, YOU WORE SOCKS WITH SANDALS!” Bob says loudly. Phoenix cackles, slamming her hand into the counter. Rooster turns red in embarrassment.

“I was a dumb teen!” Rooster says back, his face cracking into a smile. He turns his attention back to Maverick.

Rooster smiles. “How many of those do you have?”

“Enough.”

“Well, I wanna see-“

“We” Phoenix says, cutting him off. Rooster rolls his eyes.

“Well, we wanna see how much enough truly means.”

When I'm Done With You [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Gif cred: @delopsia 

A Bob Floyd frat AU

Summary: At a fraternity mixer, you lose your (admittedly shitty) boyfriend in the crowd. That’s when Bob Floyd, president of Alpha Tau and your boyfriend’s personal nemesis, finds you and decides to make you his. 

Pairing: Bob Floyd x reader 

Warnings: Cursing, fraternities, SMUT, gambling

WC: 5.5K

A/N: This was entirely written because of the new Lew frat photos. I have no self control. We are sluts in this household for Lewis Pullman.

“Say it,” he demanded. Bob’s eyes were dark, his fingers rough against the delicate skin of your chin as he tipped your gaze toward his. 

His voice was low and hoarse and it forced a crop of goosebumps up and down your bare arms, and the exposed flesh of your thighs. 

“Say it,” Bob repeated and you squeezed your legs together, mouth hanging open as he slipped a thumb inside, pad of his finger pressing down softly against your wet tongue. You instinctively closed your lips around the digit, sucking loudly, and Bob’s blue eyes grew darker. 

He removed his thumb, sliding the saliva over your cheek as his hand gripped the back of your neck tightly. The beat of the music in the house mixed with your rapid heartbeat and you were pulsating from the inside out. 

Bob stood, waiting, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you condescendingly, the popped collar of his button down shirt nudging against the curling edges. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whispered and his lips pulled back in a smirk. A Cheshire Cat grin. 

“Beg.” 

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you moaned, stepping closer, brushing your body against him, desperate for his touch. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he said. 

“You.” 

“That’s right,” Bob said and you couldn’t help but lean forward, your pelvis aching for him even though you had no idea what he would feel like inside of you. All you knew in that moment was how all-consuming the idea of Bob fucking you was. “You belong to me. Not him, me. You’re all mine.” 

You nodded weakly and Bob leaned down, ghosting his lips over yours. 

“When I’m done with you,” he whispered, “tell your boyfriend I say hi.” 

*One Day Before*

“Get in, we’re going to be late.” 

You sighed, sliding across the hot leather seat as Seth reached over and yanked the door shut before dropping the Jeep into gear and peeling off before you could even get your seatbelt on. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Relax, we’re like two minutes early still.” 

“Would be earlier if you could learn how to read a clock.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned to look out the window. Campus flew by as Seth skidded down the road before pulling over in front of the Sigma Chi house. “It’s just a stupid meeting,” you said as he shoved the car into park. 

Seth’s eyes burned as he turned to you. “I’m the president, Y/N. How would it look if the president didn’t show up on time?” 

“You’re the president of a fraternity,” you huffed, dropping down onto the gravel driveway and slamming the door shut, “not the president of the United States.” 

Seth tossed a dirty look over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs, pulling open the double wood doors to reveal the house’s imposing front room. At the far end, directly within your sight, was a stone fireplace so tall you could stand under it, like a medieval ballroom. Or maybe it was the long hallway of framed composite photographs of former fraternity council members lining the walls that gave off the castle vibes. Either way, you always noticed a chill in the air the moment you entered the Sigma Chi house, even on a sweltering day. 

Today was no different. 

Seth strode through the wide room toward the staircase. “Babe!” he called out. “I’ll be back in thirty.” 

You nodded but he had already rounded the corner, descending the stairs to the basement. You shivered at the thought, instead shaking your head and making your way across the room toward the door at the far end which led out to the side yard where a small garden with chairs sat facing both the back and the road in front of the house. 

Sometimes, especially on a day like today, you wondered why you were with Seth at all. It wasn’t the fraternity thing. Some girls swooned over frat guys. But the parties, once you stripped away the veneer of loud music and dark lighting, were more disgusting than you could ever imagine. And only someone who had witnessed the space first-hand the day after, drinking coffee while watching pledges scrub vomit and caked in dirt and rivulets of beer from the wooden floors, could attest to that fact. 

It wasn’t that he was particularly charming or nice. It wasn’t that he was all together handsome, although you supposed he was decently good in bed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that you just didn’t want to be alone. Being with Seth was the perfect amount of commitment. He was busy half of the week with fraternity business, and there was always somewhere to go on the weekends. 

He was a safety blanket. 

You sat perched on an adirondack chair, a pair of sunglasses slipped over your eyes, turning your head when you heard a few voices coming from near the front of the house. Squinting, you spotted a gaggle of guys walking down the sidewalk. They weren’t stopping, so they definitely weren’t Sigma Chi. 

Upon closer inspection, you recognized a few of them. Namely, Bob Floyd. President of Alpha Tau. 

And Seth’s personal rival. 

The two of them had gone head-to-head in more ways than you could count. In the economics department last semester for a research fellowship. 

Bob had won. 

At the spring fraternity wrestling contest. 

Seth had somehow beaten Bob, but only after several rounds of close calls on both sides. 

Seth had made it crystal clear that Bob Floyd was not someone you were allowed to speak to. So when Bob stopped, his gaze locked on yours, your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, as if to call out to him, but words died in your throat. He lifted up his sunglasses and winked, before taking off down the road, falling seamlessly back into conversation with his friends as if nothing had even happened. 

You couldn’t explain why. But you felt your pulse quicken, an ache developing in your pelvis. You shook your head. 

Bob Floyd was the very last person who should make you feel this way. 

***

You turned in the mirror, examining your short dress. “Are you sure this looks OK?”

Annie nodded from where she sat on your bed. “You look perfect. Going to make those frat boys lose their minds.” 

You rolled your eyes and smoothed your hands over the silky fabric, adjusting the skinny straps. “Are the shoes too much?” You wiggled your ankles and the stilettos you had on. 

“You know you’re fifteen times hotter than Seth, right?” Annie said and you looked up with a gasp. “Oh, don’t give me that. He’s kind of a tool and we both know it.”

Annie had been your roommate for two years and she’d seen everything unfold with Seth. From the first time the two of you met at a party to the first time he broke your heart and you took him back. 

To say she wasn’t a fan was an understatement. 

You leaned down, filling your purse. “You should come tonight,” you said. “It could be fun.” 

“Absolutely not.” Annie jumped up and strode to the door. “But call me when shit hits the fan, OK? I’ll come pick you up.” 

You smiled. “Love you.” 

Once she was gone, you looked at your reflection in the mirror one more time. A part of you was dreading tonight. The annual frat mixer, where fraternity brothers from all of the different chapters mingled together on Greek Row. Tonight’s party was going to be hosted by two neighboring houses: the Delta Kappa Epsilons and the Alpha Taus. 

You grabbed your purse and headed for the front door, calling an Uber. Seth had claimed he was too busy to swing by and pick you up for the party. 

Just to torture him, before you left you reached down, slipping off your black thong and flinging it into the corner pile of laundry. You pulled out your phone and texted Seth. 

See you in a few, you wrote. PS — I’m not wearing any underwear. 

***

By the time you got to Greek Row, you could feel a bubble of anxiety building in your chest. Events like this always made you tense up. Before Seth, you hadn’t stepped foot near a fraternity. It still wasn’t your vibe, but you had become somewhat acclimated to Greek life. 

You pulled out your phone after stepping out of the Uber. No text. Sighing, you made your way down the sidewalk toward the DKE house.

It was already bustling, and through the large glass windows at the front you could see people already filling up the house, the lights turned down, the music turned all the way up. 

Stepping up to the door, it swung open before you could even knock. The boy in a bow tie and jacket smiled at you. “Come on in.” He recognized you. That was one thing: you were Seth Landon’s girl. You were untouchable. There was almost a secret club, the girlfriends of fraternity presidents. You were protected and watched. 

Wandering through the rooms of the house, your eyes flitted around for Seth. Everywhere you looked there were couples and stray frat guys, drinking and vaping. It felt oddly civil, considering some of them were mortal enemies. 

You made it through the whole house with no sign of Seth and no text. He hadn’t even read your original message. He was the only person you knew under the age of forty with read receipt on. 

Sighing, you filed out of the house and down the stairs, shaking your head and making your way over to the Alpha Tau house. Their house was darker, all wooden beams and imposing brass knocker. Again, the door swung open before you could reach up to knock, another frat lackey recognizing you and letting you in. 

“Have you seen Seth Landon?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Sorry. Check the back, I know a poker game is starting up.” 

You groaned. If there was one thing you knew was Seth’s downfall, it was gambling. He’d bet on anything. 

Slowly, this house was more crowded than the DKE one, you stumbled down the halls toward the back. At one point the crowd was too thick, and you cut over through a small hallway near the staircase. You stopped, back to the wall, looking down at your phone, checking again for a message, when an arm came out, hand pressed against the wall behind your head. 

You looked up. 

Bob Floyd stared down at you. Unlike most of the other guys, he had foregone a blazer. Instead, he wore a blue button up with the collar popped, a pair of khakis molded against his round ass, a needlepoint belt holding in his trim waist. He had a large silver watch on the wrist of the arm next to your head and his blue eyes bore into yours. “Lost, baby girl?” he asked, his voice thick. 

You narrowed your eyes. “No. And I’m not your baby girl.” 

His free hand rubbed against his mouth and you watched as the veins in his hands and forearms buldged. When he pulled it away, his lips pulled back in a wide grin. “Trust me, I know. You’re Seth Landon’s girl.”

“If you know that, why are you here?” you whispered. “He’d kill you if he saw you talking to me.” 

Bob leaned in closer until he was practically caging you against the wall. “I’m not scared of that jackass,” he said. 

Your eyes met his. Bob ran his tongue over his pink lower lip. You didn’t even care to look around and see if others had spotted you and Bob in the narrow hallway. For some reason, standing there with Bob, not touching, was the singular hottest thing you had experienced in months, maybe years. 

He leaned down, tracing your jaw with one finger and you found yourself mewling at his touch. He grinned. “Sensitive, aren’t you?” 

Your eyes went wide as you remembered where you were. Who you were with. More specifically, who you weren’t with. Your boyfriend. 

Bob took a step back, lifting his hand from your face, but the ghost of his touch lingered. He slipped his hand into his pants pocket, tilting his head to the left. “Landon’s that way,” he murmured. 

You nodded, hiking your purse higher onto your shoulder, your legs like gelatine beneath you. 

“Baby girl?” he asked. “Come find me when you’re done with that tool. I’ll be upstairs, second floor.” 

And then he disappeared, out through the end of the narrow hallway. The minute Bob turned around the corner, air rushed back into your lungs. You pressed one hand to your chest and found that you were trembling. 

A couple burst through the door at the end of the hall and you jerked your head, watching as they flitted past you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself off of the wall and heading toward the back of the house and the poker session the guy at the door had told you about. 

It was little surprise that you found Seth sitting at a legitimate poker table, green felt top littered with chips and cards, Seth’s tanned face pinched as he examined the cards in his hands. He tossed in a stack of red chips and let out a grunt when the dealer dropped a two of hearts on the table as the last of five cards. “Fuck!” he said, tossing in his cards. “I’m out.” He looked up and spotted you. “Hey baby, come here.” 

You stepped forward and he pulled you onto his lap. His thigh was angular and uncomfortable, his hands were too warm, bordering on sweaty, and he smelled like a pack of Marlboros. “You were supposed to wait for me,” you complained. 

His face darkened. “I was busy, Y/N. I have responsibilities.” He looked at the table before nudging you off of him with one hand. “Gotta finish this round, babe. Grab a drink, I’ll come find you.” 

“I want to leave,” you said, arms crossed over your chest. 

Seth didn’t even look up. “We’re not going.” The five other guys at the table looked up with grins. One let out a low whistle. 

You held your ground. “You didn’t even pick me up. You made me chase you through both houses. I’m tired of this.” 

“Then leave,” Seth said, his eyes never deviating from the cards in front of his face. 

You were seething. The air was thick and tense around the card table as everyone waited for your response. You shrugged. “Fine. Fuck you, Seth.” 

Another low whistle. A few heads turned. Seth still refused to face you. “You’re being childish, Y/N,” he said calmly. “Have a beer, chill out. I’ll find you after the game.” 

“No,  you won’t,” you hissed. “Have a good life.” You peered over his shoulder and then at the cards on the table. “By the way, he’s got a busted straight.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He tossed his cards down in fury, eyes blazing. “What the fuck!” 

But you were already halfway out the door, trailing down the darkened hallway, toward the staircase. You sucked in a breath and climbed the wooden stairs, your heart pounding. 

All you knew was that you had to find Bob. Your anger was making your head spin. You turned at the top of the stairs, looking both ways before peering out over the railing, legs shaking. After two years, you thought there would be tears. At least some kind of sadness. But you felt nothing for Seth. 

Only anger. 

You swiveled around, starting down one dark hallway. Everywhere you looked it was wood paneled. Imposing. Borderline threatening. You wandered all the way down the hallway, passing a slew of closed doors, before finding a door at the end of the hallway that was ajar, warm light seeping in through the crack. 

Softly, you nudged it open to reveal Bob Floyd standing in front of a massive fireplace, one forearm resting against the mantle which held a large framed frat composite from that year’s class. 

And even though your steps were silent, he heard you. “How did I know you’d come looking for me?” he said before turning around, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

You lingered by the doorway. Stepping inside further would only seal your fate. 

Bob’s gaze never left you. Several moments passed, just the two of you in the study, before you finally stepped forward, closing the door behind you. 

You had just signed away Seth in a single movement. 

Bob crossed the expanse of the room in a few long strides. For perhaps the first time you looked at him, really looked at him. You had spent so long avoiding Bob because of Seth’s hatred toward him. But somewhere deep down you knew why Seth hated him so much. Because Bob was better. Smarter, smoother, more charming. He was everything Seth wanted to be and couldn’t. 

He walked you backward until your back was pressed against the supple leather arm of a dimpled couch that sat in front of the wide wooden hearth. You felt the clammy coolness of the leather stick to your bare skin. 

“What do you want?” he asked, voice slow. Deliberate. “Tell me what you want.” 

You shook your head, denying him. It felt good. For the first time in a long time you were striking out on your own. Seth couldn’t put you down or keep you boxed in. 

Bob didn’t want to hold you back. He didn’t want to tame you. What you didn’t know was that while you had been avoiding him, he had been seeking you out. Watching as you made your way through the dining hall, eyes combing the long tables for Seth, glazing over him entirely. What you hadn’t seen was the way Bob’s body pulsated when you were closer, like an alarm that only he could hear. 

You had decided five minutes ago that you wanted Bob. He had decided two years ago that he was going to make you his. 

“Say it,” he demanded. 

You parted your mouth, letting him slip his thick thumb against your tongue as you tasted him, sucking greedily. He slid his finger out from your puckered mouth, across your face, grabbing your neck, drawing you closer. 

What you thought was condescension crossed his eyes. But it was lust. It was pure, unadulterated lust and excitement. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you murmurred and Bob grinned. He hardened in his khakis as you begged him. 

Bob reached down, sliding one arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly as his lips descended on yours, ravishing you, moving off of your mouth onto your neck as you cried out in pleasure, his fingertips squeezing your waist, desperate for you. Before you could even moan his name, Bob spun you around until your hands came out to hold you up from against the couch as he pressed, hard, on your back, sending you curled, face-down, onto the dark leather. 

He sank to his knees, shoving up the short hem of your dress, practically combusting when he saw you were naked beneath it. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling out a hand and smacking your round ass cheek, hard. You cried out. “Do you want more?” he asked and even though he was rough, you knew that he would stop if you wanted him to. 

You buried your head against the cool leather. “Yes, daddy.” 

Bob pulled his hand back, landing it again on your soft skin, eliciting a groan from you as you instinctively wiggled away, digging your bare core against the curved arm of the couch. He lurched forward, pressing his soft lips to your ass cheek, nipping at the flesh softly as his hand nudged your knees further apart until you were spread wide for him. “Good girl,” he murmured, tracing his hands over your bare thighs. “Now tell me what you want.” 

“You.” It came out broken but Bob knew exactly what you meant. His hands migrated up your thighs until his thumbs were spreading you apart, your slick juices already starting to drip down his digits as he shoved his face between your legs, tongue nudging your entrance as you gasped against the couch. “Oh!” 

Bob pressed forward, his tongue coming out to lick your folds as his fingers gripped you tightly, holding your trembling legs apart. “Be still,” he commanded as you whined against the couch before reaching up and pressing one thick finger into your throbbing cunt, a scream echoing through the room as you adjusted to him. Bob immediately began to thrust his finger in and out of your tight pussy before pulling out entirely. 

Just as you were about to whine at the loss of contact, you felt his hands on your waist, dragging you up and spinning you around. Bob dropped back down to his knees, pushing your dress up to your hips, yanking you forward until you were teetering on the edge of the couch arm. 

“Come here,” he whispered gruffly and your head fell back in a moan as Bob licked up your folds, tongue dancing along the nub of your clit instantly. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

“That’s it,” he murmured, sucking your clit harshly before driving two fingers this time into your squelching pussy. “Fuck yes.” Bob curled his fingers inside of you, your spongy walls gripping him tightly as his tongue slid in tight circles around your clit until you were wiggling, whining, moaning above him, your legs shaking where you stood with your stilettos pressed against the ground. 

“Bob!” 

His name on your lips set Bob on fire. He pressed inside of you deeper, sucking tightly on your clit until you were coming on his fingers and face, screaming his name. 

Bob drove you into overstimulation, unable to tear himself away from between your legs until your fingers were threading themselves into his long hair, a string of begs falling from your lips. “Please, please, please, fuck it’s too much.” Finally, he lifted his head, mouth slick with your juices, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand. You remained on the edge of the couch arm, legs spread open, pussy on display, as Bob stood, wrapping one hand around your neck. “Always knew you’d like my mouth on your pussy,” he murmured and you blushed. 

Before you could object, Bob had his arm around your waist, tugging down your dress, hand on your hips, guiding you toward the door. You looked back at him over your shoulder and he nodded reassuringly. 

“My room’s across the hall,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

And then the two of you were locked in his bedroom. It was a near clone of the room you had just been in, but with a bed against the far wall instead of a couch and fireplace. 

You turned to face Bob. His eyes watched you carefully.

Bob reached out, both hands grabbing your waist, dragging you closer until the two of you were only millimeters apart. “Bob?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doing this just because of how much you hate Seth?” 

“Are you?” 

You didn’t know. So instead you trailed your hands down to his belt and Bob’s eyes widened, but he remained silent. 

Silent as you unfastened his belt, fingers reaching for his zippered fly, feeling how hard he was already beneath his khakis. 

Silent as you eased his pants down his legs, kneeling at his feet, coming face-to-face with his barely covered cock as he bulged against the tight fabric of his boxers. 

Silent as you yanked the waistband of his boxer briefs down, gasping as his long, thick cock sprang to attention, practically hitting you in the face. You hesitated. “Are you going to suck my cock, baby?” he asked mockingly. 

To Bob’s surprise you leaned forward, one hand reaching out and cupping the base of his cock, your mouth immediately surrounding his length until you could feel the tip of him bashing against your throat as you choked on him. 

“Fuck,” Bob murmurred, fingers grabbing your hair, yanking you backward. You looked up at him expectantly and he almost growled. “Suck me good,” he whispered, “and I’ll fuck you like the little slut I know you think you are.” 

You moaned, licking your lips before diving back in, bobbing up and down along his length, using your hands to grip his base, twisting up and down as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in. 

Above you, Bob closed his eyes, using his hands to surround your head as he fucked into your face, causing you to moan and pushing saliva out of your mouth down the edges of your lips, tears springing to your eyes as he pushed his cock further into your throat and you gagged. “Taking me so well,” he murmured, looking down at you at his feet. “Fuck, look at you. A fucking mess.”

You whimpered on his length and Bob drove himself faster into your mouth, both hands pressed against your scalp as he thrust his hips toward your face, your nose buried in his pubic hair until he could feel himself coming undone. 

“Shit, fuck, yes!” he cried as he shot thick ropes of cum into the back of your throat, spilling down your throat and filling your mouth, seeping out the corners as he looked down, thrusting one last time into your mouth until you were gagging around him, mouth full. 

He pulled out of you and you swallowed harshly. Bob reached out and dragged the pad of his thumb beneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that had gathered there. He reached out a hand, helping you to your feet. 

“Take off your clothes.” It was a demand, not a request. You shed your dress quickly, stepping out of it and standing naked in front of Bob. 

His eyes slowly worked their way down, from the top of your head to your feet in the stilettos. 

“Shoes.” 

You kicked them off. Bob pushed away his pants, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt desire bubble up inside of you as he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it onto the ground, reaching out and laying you back onto the bed. 

Bob suctioned his lips to your neck, slotting himself between your legs, your ankles crossing over behind his perfect ass and you could feel him, hard again, against your inner thigh as you rolled your hips up toward him. 

He kissed down the column of your throat, landing on your breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth as you whimpered. 

“So fucking desperate,” he muttered. “It’s like you’ve never been fucked before. Landon probably has a tiny dick, doesn’t he? Never made you feel anything.” 

“Don’t talk about him,” you groaned, trying not to lose your focus as Bob skimmed his hips against yours, dragging his fat cock over your folds as you clutched his arms. “Shut up and fuck me.” 

Bob pulled back, eyes hard. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” 

“Yes?” 

He reached out one hand, cupping your jaw gently. “Baby, I'm only going to tell you once. In here, you’re mine, you understand? You do what I say, unless you want out.” 

You throbbed between your legs. “Yes daddy.” 

He nodded. “Good girl. Now get on your knees and face the headboard.” 

You did as you were told. Bob positioned himself between you, fingers raking down your back from your shoulders to your waist before dipping down and circling your clit. You let out a sharp whine as he spread your folds apart, nudging your legs wider, settling behind you. There was the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and then you felt Bob nudge at your entrance. 

Bob leaned forward, pushing the thick head of his cock inside of you, and you moaned. He kissed your back along your spine as he slid deeper inside your tight cunt, stretching you open. Bob reached down, grabbing your waist, forcing himself in further until he let out a deep moan as he pressed the last inch inside, filling you completely, threatening to break you apart. 

You whimpered as he pulled back, slamming his hips forward, filling you to the breaking point. “Bob!” 

“Right here baby girl,” he mumbled. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You let out a sharp cry as he pounded into you. Bob’s large hands pulled you upright, one arm wrapped around your chest, hand firmly holding your breast. 

“Look up,” he demanded and when you did your eyes widened. Above the headboard was a large mirror. You watched as Bob’s eyes followed yours while he fucked up into you from behind, his free hand reaching down and toying with your cunt. 

You moaned, shutting your eyes, and Bob slapped your clit harshly. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded and you did as you were told. “Watch me while I fuck you.”  

You watched, mouth open, as Bob filled you repeatedly, his moans filling your ear as he panted, fingers squeezing your nipple, thumb digging into your clit in sharp circles as he thrust into you. “I’m going to come,” you groaned and Bob’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head as you shuddered around him. 

You slumped back against him and Bob laid you down gently onto the bed before reaching down and digging your head into the mattress, one hand on the back of your head as he sped up his hips, plunging his thick cock into you as you screamed for him, legs shaking from the remnants of your orgasm. “Fuck!” he shouted, pulling out of you and rolling you over, ripping off the condom and pumping his length twice before shooting more cum all over your bare tits, letting it drip off of his softening cock onto your drenched cunt as you laid beneath him, trembling. 

Bob tossed the condom out, reaching down and scooping up the white cum from your stomach. He held out his finger near your mouth and instinctively you opened it, letting him push the spend against your tongue. He groaned watching you swallow, tits covered in sticky semen. 

“If you want to clean up,” he said, tilting his head toward the bathroom. 

When you returned, you frowned. “What is that?” 

“A shirt.” Bob stood, holding it out and helping you pull it on. It fell to mid-thigh and he slowly buttoned the two middle buttons. 

“What about my dress?” you murmured. 

“You don’t need it for what I have planned,” Bob said, pulling you down onto his lap, his fingers tight against your neck. 

***

The next morning, you woke up sore and exhausted. 

Bob lent you a jacket and the two of you descended the stairs with his jacket draped over your shoulders. On the first floor of the house, pledges were scrubbing the floors and the walls, cleaning up empty beer cans, and mopping the kitchen. 

Bob’s hand was warm on your waist as he guided you through the house. “Let me drive you home,” he murmured and you nodded. 

Once he pulled his Range Rover up to your apartment, you jumped out and to your surprise, Bob got out too, crossing around the front of the car, closing the door behind you. He opened his mouth just as the two of you heard a voice from over your shoulder. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Seth stood up from where he had been half asleep on your front stoop. His tanned face was pinched and red. Instinctively, Bob reached out, half hiding you behind him, one hand protectively on your waist. 

“Get your hands off my girl right fucking now, Floyd,” Seth seethed, “or I will punch your lights out.” 

“Would love to see you try, asshole.” 

Seth stepped forward but Bob still had four inches on him. He was angry and practically buzzing whereas Bob was calm and cool. 

Seth peered around Bob the best he could. 

“Where the fuck were you?” he demanded. “With him? You fucking whore.” 

Bob’s fist came out so fast you didn’t even have time to think. One second the three of you were standing in the early morning sun and the next minute Seth was on the grass, writhing in pain, blood spurting out of his nose as Bob shook out his hand. 

“Fuck! What the fuck dude?” 

“Don’t speak to her like that.” Bob’s voice was eerily level. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fuck your girlfriend for the fifth time this morning.” 

He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward your apartment, the two of you stepping directly over Seth’s prostrate body. 

Bob waited for you to open the door to your apartment before shutting it tight and locking it, swiveling you around until your back was pressed against the door. His dark eyes bore into yours. “You’re mine now,” he whispered gruffly. 

You nodded. You were his.

Tag list (my TGM list and people I think would like this):

@double-j @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @blue-aconite @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @seresinhangmanjake @babyminghao @crthurston @shanimallina87 @wkndwlff

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @xoxabs88xox @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @teacupsandtopgun

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@eli2447 @ducks118 @cherrycola27 @leigh70 @hotellnights

@babyminghao @taytaylala12 @bradshawseresinbabe @theweekndhistorybook @mandylove1000 @bobfloydsbabe @cherrycola27 @whisperofsong @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox

“tonight, i want you to take control” with mr iceman >>:))

Tehehehe you’re wish is my command

Tag list: @discoseal and @marchingicenotes7

Cold as ice

A Gn! Reader x iceman drabble

Word count: 323

Summary: ice let’s you take control and you see if he’s really as old as ice

Cw: temperature play (ice)

(I am sorry this is short you said to tease soooo)

“Tonight I want you to take in control”

That was what Ice said to you earlier, he tried to keep a stoic face yet you could see him struggling with the goosebumps on his skin forming from the ice. You gently rubbed it along his abs yet you could see him shiver and sigh making you smirk. You continued as ice let out a small whimper as you got closer towards his crotch.

“How’s it feel Tommy?”, you teased as he tensed, you saw his muscles flex as you teased around his crotch.

“F-Fine”, he stuttered out, he was slightly chattering from how much ice you rubbed on him. You heard him groan when you went back to his chest, hissing when you delicately dropped some of the water onto his nipples. He looked so helpless like this, so cute and so utterly frustrated with you.

“Shhhh don’t worry I’ll give you what you want”, you kissed his forehead going back down to his crotch, it was so warm yet he squirmed and dug his nails into the bed, “awww does that feel good icy?”

He didn’t answer.

“Tom I need an answer”

“Yes…feels real good”, you smiled at his response before gently kissing his neck, your warm lips making him dizzy as you traced along his inner thighs. He tried his best to hold in his gasp yet he couldn’t help it, that gasp soon turned into a moan.

“I thought the iceman was always cold? You seem to be really struggling.”, you giggled before he grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him.

“Make me cum”, he said quite seriously making you smile.

“Sir yes sir”, you say jokingly before kissing his lips, a groan esp aced his mouth as you rubbed around his nipples again making him squirm, you could see how hard he was and you couldn’t help but smile, “but remember ice only good boys get to cum…”

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH YEESSSSSSSSSSSS

The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious. 

So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated. 

Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support. 

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm. 

"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."

When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."

You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just. 

The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.

You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again. 

"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."

"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene. 

And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted. 

When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.

"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."

You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you. 

"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"

"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."

"And how do you know him?"

You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.

"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning. 

"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant." 

"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"

But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad. 

"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"

You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.

"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"

"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."

"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked. 

"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight. 

"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"

The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."

You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat. 

"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down. 

Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"

"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."

Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No. Never." 

"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now. 

Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"

"Yes," you replied with conviction. 

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"

You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.

"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked. 

"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."

"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer. 

"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.

So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."

"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer. 

Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"

She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."

"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again. 

"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.

You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going. 

"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."

Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.

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

Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.

When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."

The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"

Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair. 

"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well. 

He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had. 

He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers. 

"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her. 

"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."

"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare. 

He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.

When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah. 

"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.

"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing." 

So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room. 

Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."

Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown. 

"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."

Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah. 

And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses. 

"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled. 

"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."

"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."

"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.

"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"

As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."

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

You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them. 

"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.

"Yeah! And ants on logs!" 

You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third. 

He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his. 

"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor. 

As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."

Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space. 

Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.

"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."

So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.

And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.

Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."

He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."

The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table. 

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

Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

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open arms (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader)

for @roosterforme's 80's "Rocktober" Playlist Fic Challenge!

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: top gun: maverick spoilers, mention of death/funeral, general anxiety

song inspiration: open arms by journey

a/n: thank you so much to emily for this challenge! i truly have not felt so inspired to write in such a long time so this challenge was perfect for me. (my writing’s still a bit rusty, don’t get me wrong, but practice makes perfect eh?) all my love to you always, my favorite FAVORITE tg creator <3

lying beside you, here in the dark, feeling your heart beat with mine.

It was no longer a rarity that you ended up here, nestled beneath gently worn sheets against Bradley's side. Your shared breaths tangled in the air before finding a synchronized rhythm. His steady pulse thrummed against your ear as his hand traced lazily against your side. Silence had never felt so comfortable. And yet, each night you spent in each other's embrace, your mind wrestled with what this all meant.

You couldn't pop that bubble tonight, not when tomorrow meant Bradley would be seabound once again. The reminder of his departure had you nuzzling closer to him. Part of you wished you could sink into his skin somehow; to both stay at his side and shroud yourself from the muddled emotions you kept at bay. Bradley responded to your movement with a soft kiss to the top of your head and a contented sigh slipping past his lips.

How was so relaxed, not knowing what was to come of this deployment? It was equal parts inspiring and horrifying to see the stoicism he held for his work. You knew better than most how much it meant for him to follow in the footsteps of his father. The potential dangers would never outweigh the pride and passion he felt for flying. So instead, you sat to bear the brunt of the worry whenever he was sent off.

Shifting up slightly, you dared to find his face. His eyes sparkled in the streaks of moonlight seeping from the window. They were fixed on the ceiling as if he were deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?" Bradley did not shift his gaze to you just yet. Instead, he took in another deep breath, lifting his head along the way. His exhale was exasperated and furthered your concern. You sat up more, a hand trailing behind to cup his cheek. "Bradley?" you tried again. "You know you can talk to me about anything. I would never judge you."

The eyes Bradley met you with were filled with uncertainty; and hesitation, too. If you had known any better, you would suspect his thoughts were mirroring your own. What are we? What is this? Do you feel the same as I do? What do we do about it? There were too many questions for too few hours left together. There was never enough time.

You had settled with the time you could share, the sunny days filled with laughter and the intimate nights that became second nature to you both. Any question of “more” was pushed further and further off the table with every assignment.

He gave you half a smile as he brushed your hair back from your face. "You're so sincere," he whispered. A light flush danced along your cheeks as you fought a shy smile. "You look out for me more than anyone. You always have."

"And you have for me, too," you reminded him.

we sailed on together, we drifted apart, and here you are by my side.

Naval life brought you and Bradley together. He was the son of the great and ill-fated Nick Bradshaw, while you were the daughter of the highly decorated admiral Tom Kazansky. Virginia was home to you both in the years of your youth and rarely did your mothers keep you apart as you grew. Bradley was your best friend, and him yours. 

You supported him on his journey to the Navy: trained alongside him for his physicals and quizzed him on examination materials. It was in those same moments you first felt afraid, both of what could happen to him in service and what you felt blooming in your chest. Half of that fear was suspended when your Uncle Pete pulled Bradley’s papers from the naval academy. The other half buried itself deep down as you acted once again as a shoulder for the frustrations of your best friend.

The decades following saw you both through all the stages of life: college classes, breakups, graduations, careers, apartments. Though your contact waned and waxed along the way, your paths never failed to converge. Like when he was stationed in Connecticut while you were living there, or when you found him vacationing in Key West during a work trip.

Your path led you back to San Diego, once your parents based themselves there. Only weeks ago had you moved across the country to support them both as your father's condition worsened. They pushed you to take some nights for yourself, and the Hard Deck was an easy recommendation.

Despite the many twists of fate that had reunited you for years, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions you felt seeing Bradley there. You were fighting to catch a half-decent breath as your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

It wasn’t long before he spotted you. There was some sort of unspoken second sense you had for one another. After a warm hug and some quips from his squad mates, you two were sharing drinks and laughing together like always. It was as if no time had passed since your last serendipitous meeting. He asked about your life, and you asked about his. Your throat tightened at his reason for returning to TOP GUN, but you shoveled those feelings, like always.

They resurfaced at the closing of your father’s funeral. Your Uncle Pete took to escorting your mother away while you stood still as stone at the gravesite. All of the aviators in attendance had departed from the cemetery. All but one.

It was quiet, apart from the slight whistle of the air. You heard the careful padding of feet behind you but cared not to face the intruder. A hand along the small of your back was all you needed to know who had stayed behind. As your face scrunched up in sorrow, Bradley curled you against himself. He kept you guarded through your tears, murmuring every word of solace he thought of into your ear. 

And when you urged you could not face the others in mourning, Bradley brought you to your hotel room. He held you through your grief for Tom, as you had held him through his for Carole. He promised that night to forever hold you in your hardest moments, and you shakily promised the same.

Somehow, everything felt like it would turn out okay: the loss of your father, the mission, and whatever came after. Through every peak and valley, it had always felt like that when Bradley was beside you.

living without you, living alone, this empty house feels so cold. wanting to hold you, wanting you near. how much i want to bring you home.

Housesitting seemed like a good idea in the moment. You had yet to find your own bearings on the West Coast as you kept your mother company in her grief. She was kind to open her home to you, yet you craved to return to the breadth of your independence. Crashing at an empty house gave you a taste of that.

It was a no-brainer to Bradley. By the time he had gotten his papers, you were his home’s most frequent guest. He trusted you more than anyone; though, he would never say as such to Nat. The younger lieutenant had already teased enough about her friend’s recovered friendship.

Pieces of that friendship were dotted around the house, you quickly discovered. You had tried your best to keep your mind away from it. The days not jammed with work assignments and housekeeping drew too long. No hobby or day trip could fill the void caving deep in your chest. Empty notification screens and inboxes tore it further apart.

You caved on the fifth week, finally diving into the details of the quaint beach house. Bradley had kept the memories of almost four decades perfectly preserved in so many ways. Virginia Beach carnival tickets from your teen years in a trinket box, a takeout menu from a diner in Connecticut stuffed into a desk drawer, an incredibly tacky Key West magnet hung on his fridge.

An entire photo album was dedicated to your shared Navy family: your aviator uncles and fathers, your mothers, and the pair of you. Faded tickets and receipts were pasted alongside the pictures of your years together once he had a mind for momentos. You felt your chest grow tighter at the thought that went into each page.

Five weeks had passed without a single word from him or any of the friends you now shared. You knew missions could be like this, your own father having gone AWOL for months on several different top-level occasions. And yet, it never left you feeling so empty before.

Bradley's room had stayed shut since he closed it before leaving. You had not dared to breach his privacy, despite his continual assurances that you could sleep in his bed while he was away.

“It’s practically our bed at this point, isn’t it?”

But the closeness was too much. You had needed to distance yourself from it, desperate to quiet the fright echoing in your mind. Now, you longed to drown yourself in the ghost of his presence.

Bradley had fixed up his things before leaving. Ever the neat freak, his floor was swept clean and his bedding was perfectly tucked. The only difference you spotted was a green woolen blanket peeking above one pillow.

Carole had gifted you that blanket. It had started as you needing it one night at her house and quickly became a regular borrowing occurrence. You only ever returned it when she was at her sickest. The hope was to provide her with the same compassion and encouragement she gave you as you grew up. After she passed, you didn’t think to ask where it ended up.

You clutched onto the material, desperate sobs shaking your body. Bradley had held onto it this whole time. He tucked it in safely where he had wanted you to be, to provide you the comfort you needed while he was preparing for a flight that held no guarantee of a safe return. Bradley Bradshaw was looking out for you again, just like he always had.

The weight of it all dawned on you as you lay cold as ever in that bed. How much you wished he would walk through the door, how much you yearned for the warmth of his body beside yours; how much you wished to tell him everything. In the light of your realization, nothing mattered more than the docking date just over the horizon.

but now that you've come back, turned night into day, i need you to stay.

You had wanted to go to the dock: to be the person Bradley bolted off of the ship to embrace, the one to welcome him home after weeks away. It was the silence that locked you in place. Not a single form of correspondence had reached you since he had departed. Frustration would be an easy crutch to rely on if you weren’t so riddled with fear.

Fear that your last kiss was on the front steps of his porch. Fear that you would never again hear his honeyed voice singing along to your radio. Fear that you had lost your one true companion in this life, past your ups and downs along the way.

Nat was making rounds to grab Jake, Bob, and Javy off of the carrier, anyway. “It’s no problem,” she had said when you called her not half an hour before you had been planning to leave. It was scribbled on your calendar, with a little heart that Bradley added on himself. Your eyes filled with hot tears as you stared at it.

You dreaded a knock on your door, accompanied by an officer wearing a sullen expression and desolate words that would blur in your ears. Or the sorrowful looks worn by his closest squad mates as they found you in the crowd of families and other loved ones awaiting their arrival.

The possibilities plagued any chance of restful sleep, that night above all the nights since his departure. Instead, you curled yourself against Bradley’s beat-up loveseat from college, eyes darting to the front door at every blare of headlights passing by.

The ungodly hour ticked on from the tacky bar clock on the wall: one of Goose’s favorite old house accessories. Draped around your shaky form was the blanket from Carole. Your father’s dog tags hung from your neck. Would you soon need memorabilia to remember Bradley by, too?

A soft creak of wood caught your attention, then another. Keys jingled at the front door as the lock began to turn. Tired from travels and anxious from his own arrival, Bradley trudged through the door with his bag in tow. 

You barely contained your gasp, drawing his attention right to you as you lurched up from your seat. The duffel fell from his hand with a light thud on the floor. Not a second was wasted before you ran to embrace him. Bradley caught you instantly as you leaped into his open arms.

The tears you had restrained for hours fell freely into the fabric of his uniform. Your hands clung tightly around his neck, scared to ever let go.

“I’ve got you,” Bradley soothed as he felt the rush of your anxieties manifesting. “I’m right here, darlin’; I’m home.”

“I was s-so worried,” you hiccuped. “I-I didn’t hear anything, a-and I-”

“Shhh, I know. I know; I’m so sorry.” He walked you both back over to the loveseat. Falling against it, Bradley held you closer to him as his wind-chapped lips buried into your hair. A deep inhale drew you closer to his shoulder, the resulting exhale elevating you to the familiar beat of his heart.

Only a few moments passed before you began to push at his chest. He was quick to brace himself for you to sit upright in his lap. Your eyes scanning him were unreadable. Bradley rubbed the tops of your thighs, clad in his old UVA sweatpants, as he waited on you patiently.

The words were right there. They had burdened the tip of your tongue through almost every stage of your intertwined lives. No matter what the outcome would be, no excuse was great enough to keep them caged any longer. You were done keeping this final piece of yourself from the person who had already put together the rest.

“I was looking around here, while you were gone,” you sniffled. Bradley nodded as a gentle encouragement. He could read your apprehension as clear as day. Still, he would never force answers from you that you were not yet ready to give. He gave you soft and composed reassurances instead.

After taking a deep breath, you continued. “We’ve spent so much of our lives dancing around one another; our whole lives, even.” You fought to keep your eyes locked in his, despite the adrenaline beginning to race through your system. “And no matter what’s happened, and what has come between us, we have always found each other again.” Bradley nodded again, his lips curving ever so slightly upwards. His thumbs continued to trace shapes over the decades-old cotton.

“You have made my every victory a celebration, every hurdle a little easier to jump. But I was always scared.” His smile dropped, a slight frown replacing it. “I was scared of how dark it would feel to lose the way your-” You hesitated at the word, debating whether it was too powerful to use. The feel of his hands squeezing tenderly at your hips stirred your voice forward. “The way your care lights up my life.”

You finally let your chin fall, to break his piercing gaze and take a moment to collect yourself. “I have hidden myself in fear for too long. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I love you.” The words froze you. Processing them was not an easy feat, even more so when you had not seen him speak them. You flitted your widened eyes back up at Bradley. He was staring at you in a way you never recognized before, though no different from how he’d regarded you all along. It was only now you could put a name to it. 

“I love you,” Bradley said again, to prove to you both that he really had. “You have always been my home and my safe haven from everything I've gone through.” He released his soft grip on your hips to caress your face instead, thumbs swiping at the tears still falling from your eyes. “Your love lights up my life, too.”

so now i come to you, with open arms. nothing to hide: believe what i say. so here i am, with open arms, hoping you'll see what your love means to me.

as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~3.7k

synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.

warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator

a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!

As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.

He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.

"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.

"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.

It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.

"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.

"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.

His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.

"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.

"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.

Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.

He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.

What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?

-

Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.

You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.

"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.

"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"

"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"

Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.

Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-

"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.

"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.

Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"

You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"

"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.

"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."

Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.

"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."

Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.

Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.

The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"

You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.

"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"

An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."

He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"

The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.

"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.

You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.

The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.

But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.

Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.

He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?

"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."

Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.

Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"

You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.

Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.

Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.

He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.

"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.

Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.

Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?

As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.

His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.

Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"

"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.

"Whoa.. where did that come from?"

Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.

He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.

"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.

Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.

His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.

You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"

It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.

"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."

And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."

Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.

"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."

Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.

Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."

He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.

That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?

"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.

Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."

The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."

You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.

"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.

His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.

"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."

Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.

"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.

-

a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3

tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25

tee shirt - robert "bob" floyd x reader

word count: ~400

a/n: no warnings or synposis! this is a silly lil drabble i wanted to write for @sabersandsnipers to further convince her to divulge in the madness of tg:m because bob is the sweetest thing. also very very loosely inspired by the song tee shirt by birdy <3

Light had barely begun to filter through the shades. Streaks of pink and orange danced along the bottom of the midnight horizon slowly winking out stars. Warm arms held you tight against a firm chest and heart beating steadily for you. Nothing could be more serene about this moment.

It was no wonder you winced at the onset of blaring from Bob's phone alarm. You mumbled a weak protest against his tank top, snuggling impossibly closer to him. He clumsily reached over to silence the noise; just for another five minutes. The US Navy was not one to be trifled with in terms of punctuality.

Bob wrapped you back into his full embrace. His lips dotted soft kisses against your hairline in wordless apology. Some gnawing part of him wished he could stay in this bed, in this moment, here with you forever. Responsibilities and paychecks be damned. He considered himself the wealthiest man alive to have your affections on him.

"Did you sleep okay, honey?" Bob questioned softly, not wanting to further disturb your peace. He let a hand trace up and down your back. The soft material of the tee shirt you wore to bed glided against his fingers like butter.

You hummed in response. "I'd sleep better without that racket coming from your phone." There may have been a time when that kind of comment would send him spiraling. He would have insisted on researching new alarms that wouldn't be so offensive to jolt your slumber. He would feel fear creep under his skin; fear that any one wrong move would pull you from him for good.

Instead, Bob laughed. Because you made him feel safe. You never made him feel like every night could be the last he'd hear from you without warning. You never made him feel like he was any lesser for his more reserved demeanor. You loved him as much as he loved you, and for the first time in forever, he knew it. He felt it.

Moments like now, your soft lips pressing sleepily to his chest as you both basked in the coming of dawn, reminded him as such. Even his closest friends had seen the change you had brought to him just by your love.

"You don't look around all skittishly anymore," Nat had remarked. "You were always looking for the first warning sign of danger. Now you just.. look."

And it was all thanks to you.

because i'm trying to clear my wip's before i start on the bob idea..

another self-indulgent angsty bradley fic coming tomorrow?

in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.

You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

i'll look after you (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.3k

synposis: "don't think, just do," was a challenging mentality to live by. but bradley quickly finds there is a balance to be had between thinking and doing.

warnings: allusions to anxiety, work abuse, overthinking

a/n: another hurt/comfort, who's surprised? this has been sitting in my drafts with an unfinished smut ending for a month but i’m electing to post without it as i’m not confident in my ~other~ writing abilities yet.. enjoy!

It was rare that the Navy ever let its aviators off early for the day; even more so for the elite members of Top Gun. Yet, with the clock barely stroking past a sunny four, Bradley was reclined on the sofa with a beer in hand. The house was spotless thanks to a shared cleaning spree the day prior. Nothing could have made for a more perfect turn of events.

But Bradley was pondering on the few texts he'd received that day. They were void of any of the color and character he was used to. None of the words exaggerated their spelling, and periods punctuated every short sentence. Everyone had once remarked him as a chronic overthinker both in the air and on the ground. It was easy to dismiss the gnawing he felt in his gut as the remnants of that mentality.

So, he cracked a Heineken and let himself indulge in uncommon solitude. The flat screen played his favorite drama to placate his mind. A subtle hunger led to perusing online menus for takeout ideas. Every little bit of stimulation was a welcome distraction from his pompous presumptions.

And then he heard it: the abrupt slam of a car door. Fumbling footsteps made their way to the front stoop followed by a clamoring of keys against the painted wood. Bradley grinned as he awaited the arrival, even through the slight tug of worry in his chest.

He watched as you stumbled inside without care. Shaking hands hung up tightly gripped keys and those same fumbling feet kicked off their shoes in frustration. Your shoulders rose and fell sharply with every short breath.

Was I overthinking?

Bradley had yet to see your face, had yet to meet those eyes always bright with excitement. Your face remained tucked toward the wall with each passing second. Swallowing his hesitation, Bradley spoke over the TV. "Baby?"

Your body reacted in shock, jolting up as your head whipped around.

I wasn't.

Hot tears were rolling down your cheeks. Said cheeks were splotchy, proof that these tears were far from the first you'd shed that day. The bright eyes he adored were puffy and red. Their brightness now was not out of joy but sorrowful watering.

Bradley's heart clenched tightly. "Oh, angel," he cooed, hurrying to displace his Heineken to a coaster and mute the TV. You had little time and no energy left to fight his comfort. As your boyfriend stood before you with open arms, you crashed into them.

He wasted no time in embracing you. Sobs broke past your wobbling lips and muffled against his shoulder. "I've got you, babe," Bradley soothed. "I've got you, it's okay. Just let it out."

All you had ever wanted was for someone to support you whenever life put you through the wringer. Bradley felt it a great privilege to be that support, knowing you'd do nothing short of the same for him. He almost cursed himself for letting his insecurities derail his intuition for you, but dismissed the old habit of self-deprecation. Nothing mattered more in this moment than helping you get back on your feet.

"I- I didn't know, you'd be ho-home," you blubbered. The comment irked something in him. How long had you been coming home in a similar state, putting yourself together just in time for him to get home? Were there more despondent texts or other warning signals he hadn't picked up on?

Each hypothesis built a greater desire to look after you, and to follow up on any twinge of doubt he felt. He needed not only to think but to take action on what he thought. "Shh, none of that, baby. None of that. You can always let go around me, okay? 'Can always tell me what's bugging you."

The words lifted heaviness off of you little by little. You cried more at the safety you felt in his words. Bradley guided you, leaden-legged, to the couch. He sat first before gently tugging you atop his lap.

Warm palms rubbed against your cheeks to dry them. Warmer brown eyes sunk into yours, unconditional love seeping through every glint of gold. "Do you wanna talk about it now, or later?" Though not wanting to let your feelings fester, Bradley didn't desire to press you for answers.

He watched as you took in a steady breath and nodded slowly. "Work's just.. just been really frustrating." You sniffled before continuing with anecdotes of being overworked and underappreciated.

Bradley continued to rub softly at your skin as you spoke. His lips pressed assuring kisses to your temples at times you got too worked up to continue. He gave every ounce of care and attention he could to your stories as you vented them out.

You slumped forward in his hold as you finished with a heaving sigh. Another soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head. "Thank you for telling me, baby." His hands took up rubbing up and down your arms to help ease any remaining tension.

Bradley wasn't sure what he could say or do to make any of this better for you, to help resolve your problems in one fell swoop so that you never had to feel this way again. At the same time, he wasn't sure that a fix-it attitude was what you wanted or needed.

Don't think, just do.

"I want you to know that you're amazing. You work your ass off in everything you do without any promise of reward, and that's really admirable." You lifted your head slightly to see him, to see the sincerity dripping from his praises. "But you deserve recognition for it. It's not fair that you're continually overlooked for fuckheads who don't do a fraction of the shit you do. And it's not fair that you're made to feel so much less than you're worth. I'd kick all their asses if I could." His empty threat broke a small giggle from your lips as grateful tears replaced those of frustration.

Bradley returned your smile with one of his own before resuming a serious tone. "You don't ever have to put on a show for me, okay? I want you to know you're safe to come to me with anything, even the littlest complaints that you write off as whining. Do you ever think I'm whining about Jake getting on my nerves? Or Maverick getting too tough with me in the air?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay, that wasn't the best example." You laughed again, louder this time, and Bradley felt his chest swell with pride. He leaned forward to catch your lips against his, softly, allowing you to take the reins. The kiss stayed soft and sweet as you melted against him. Soft breaths filled the space between you as you parted, resting foreheads against one another. "I'll always look after you, angel. Don't forget that." You nodded in agreement before kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

🏷️: @avengersfan25

through the storm (jake "hangman" seresin x reader

word count: ~0.7k

synposis: hangman's partner has gone mia, and he's prepared to tally whatever's weighing them down.

warnings: vague allusions to depression?

a/n: this is very barely proofread or edited. i haven't had any writing inspo and lost the singular request i got months ago, but i've also been going THROUGH IT. so this is yet another result of my self-indulgence (where hangman is taking the reins!) enjoy :D

Grey skies weren't common in California. The bright sunlight always broke between the clouds cresting overhead. Today, though, the thicket of white above turned the world monochromatic. Jake sighed as he drove, knowing it would only hinder his efforts.

He pulled into the quaint cul-de-sac and parked. One hand swept up the few bags cluttering the passenger seat floor while the other fumbled for his keys and phone. A last ditch effort was made to check his notifications, another soft sigh leaving him as only your picture filled the screen.

Jake swiftly exited his truck. His feet felt light as air trailing the way to your front door. The key you'd given him lifted to unlock it, and was promptly tossed onto the small console table.

"Babe?" he tried calling. The warm timbre of his voice rumbled down the hallway. It muffled against your shut bedroom door, not creaked open as it normally was.

The aviator stopped off in the kitchen to settle the bags and refrigerate the few items that needed it. His heavy footsteps groaned into the hardwood floors, continuing to alert you of his presence. You did nothing to warn him of your own. Jake's frown grew in further realization.

He lifted a wavering hand to the doorknob. Privacy was a value of yours, he knew; part of the reason you had insisted to keep your own place until your rental agreement was to expire. But he also knew when that same valued privacy was a cover for your hyper-independence.

Jake settled on one last warning call, a soft rapping of his knuckles against the wood. "Babe, I'm coming in now."

A thought froze him: he had no idea what he was walking into. He had seen his partner in all kinds of vocal states, overexcitement and fury and even deep despair. The sudden quiet terrified him. How could he soothe a numbness, a void?

He would have to learn on the fly, as it was. No way in hell was he going to let you down now.

Another breath and Jake crossed the threshold of your room. Fern eyes flitted over the dark space to observe its state. The curtains were drawn closed, blocking out the little amount of light the clouds permitted. Everything was in its right place and tidied away, as if you'd spent hours decluttering to try and do the same with your mind.

The only thing in disarray was your queen bed, where you laid in a comforter strewn lump in the center of the mattress. Your breaths were silent, yet rose the bedding up enough to settle the worst of Jake's fears. He shut the door behind him as to not shock you any more than he intended to. Every step he took toward you was careful, still uncertain whether you were aware of him.

Sinking down onto the bed was a gamble Jake took hesitantly. Your face was still hidden beneath the blue fabric, your hair fanning out in messy strands. "Darlin'?" His voice was barely above a hum, but it was enough. You slowly peeked your eyes above the comforter to meet his. Jake greeted you with an award-winning smile, one that always turned your insides to putty. "I've been looking all over for you, darlin'. Really know how to run your cowboy ragged."

Tears lined your eyes at his words, guilt flooding you. "I'm sorry," you croaked. Jake's face immediately fell.

He leaned down to lay at your side, facing you and reaching up to cup your cheeks. "No, no, baby; don't you apologize, okay?" It ached his heart to see you feeling so small. Your vibrancy changed the colors of his life for the better. At present, they were all muddled and shirked away from your own view. Even if Jake couldn't bring those hues back to you himself, he would do everything he could for you while you awaited their return.

Jake thumbed away the few tears that started to roll down your cheeks. "C'mere," he cooed with an arm outstretched. You shuffled towards him in your mess of blankets for him to slide beneath. One arm snaked around your torso, drowning in one of his old tees, while the other cradled your head to his chest.

"There we are," he hummed as your bodies settled into one another. Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead as he felt the damp spots soak into his shirt. "I've got ya now, darlin'. I'll always hold you through the storms." After all, they were much easier to weather together than alone.

🏷️: @avengersfan25, @roosterforme

🥹 i wanted to keep it as vague as i could so that everyone, no matter what they’re going through, could relate and feel comforted

through the storm (jake "hangman" seresin x reader

word count: ~0.7k

synposis: hangman's partner has gone mia, and he's prepared to tally whatever's weighing them down.

warnings: vague allusions to depression?

a/n: this is very barely proofread or edited. i haven't had any writing inspo and lost the singular request i got months ago, but i've also been going THROUGH IT. so this is yet another result of my self-indulgence (where hangman is taking the reins!) enjoy :D

Grey skies weren't common in California. The bright sunlight always broke between the clouds cresting overhead. Today, though, the thicket of white above turned the world monochromatic. Jake sighed as he drove, knowing it would only hinder his efforts.

He pulled into the quaint cul-de-sac and parked. One hand swept up the few bags cluttering the passenger seat floor while the other fumbled for his keys and phone. A last ditch effort was made to check his notifications, another soft sigh leaving him as only your picture filled the screen.

Jake swiftly exited his truck. His feet felt light as air trailing the way to your front door. The key you'd given him lifted to unlock it, and was promptly tossed onto the small console table.

"Babe?" he tried calling. The warm timbre of his voice rumbled down the hallway. It muffled against your shut bedroom door, not creaked open as it normally was.

The aviator stopped off in the kitchen to settle the bags and refrigerate the few items that needed it. His heavy footsteps groaned into the hardwood floors, continuing to alert you of his presence. You did nothing to warn him of your own. Jake's frown grew in further realization.

He lifted a wavering hand to the doorknob. Privacy was a value of yours, he knew; part of the reason you had insisted to keep your own place until your rental agreement was to expire. But he also knew when that same valued privacy was a cover for your hyper-independence.

Jake settled on one last warning call, a soft rapping of his knuckles against the wood. "Babe, I'm coming in now."

A thought froze him: he had no idea what he was walking into. He had seen his partner in all kinds of vocal states, overexcitement and fury and even deep despair. The sudden quiet terrified him. How could he soothe a numbness, a void?

He would have to learn on the fly, as it was. No way in hell was he going to let you down now.

Another breath and Jake crossed the threshold of your room. Fern eyes flitted over the dark space to observe its state. The curtains were drawn closed, blocking out the little amount of light the clouds permitted. Everything was in its right place and tidied away, as if you'd spent hours decluttering to try and do the same with your mind.

The only thing in disarray was your queen bed, where you laid in a comforter strewn lump in the center of the mattress. Your breaths were silent, yet rose the bedding up enough to settle the worst of Jake's fears. He shut the door behind him as to not shock you any more than he intended to. Every step he took toward you was careful, still uncertain whether you were aware of him.

Sinking down onto the bed was a gamble Jake took hesitantly. Your face was still hidden beneath the blue fabric, your hair fanning out in messy strands. "Darlin'?" His voice was barely above a hum, but it was enough. You slowly peeked your eyes above the comforter to meet his. Jake greeted you with an award-winning smile, one that always turned your insides to putty. "I've been looking all over for you, darlin'. Really know how to run your cowboy ragged."

Tears lined your eyes at his words, guilt flooding you. "I'm sorry," you croaked. Jake's face immediately fell.

He leaned down to lay at your side, facing you and reaching up to cup your cheeks. "No, no, baby; don't you apologize, okay?" It ached his heart to see you feeling so small. Your vibrancy changed the colors of his life for the better. At present, they were all muddled and shirked away from your own view. Even if Jake couldn't bring those hues back to you himself, he would do everything he could for you while you awaited their return.

Jake thumbed away the few tears that started to roll down your cheeks. "C'mere," he cooed with an arm outstretched. You shuffled towards him in your mess of blankets for him to slide beneath. One arm snaked around your torso, drowning in one of his old tees, while the other cradled your head to his chest.

"There we are," he hummed as your bodies settled into one another. Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead as he felt the damp spots soak into his shirt. "I've got ya now, darlin'. I'll always hold you through the storms." After all, they were much easier to weather together than alone.

🏷️: @avengersfan25, @roosterforme

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

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

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

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He texted you back.

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

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

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pretty Girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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I wrote another story. And it's gonna crossover with the Twisters fic. I'm a menace, thanks Glen Powell.

Wattpad

Delicate (Jake's Version)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is the biggest asshole that Samantha Kazansky has ever met. He's cocky. He's arrogant. His ego i...

ENJOY!!!

Chapter 3 is up!

I wrote another story. And it's gonna crossover with the Twisters fic. I'm a menace, thanks Glen Powell.

Wattpad

Delicate (Jake's Version)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is the biggest asshole that Samantha Kazansky has ever met. He's cocky. He's arrogant. His ego i...

ENJOY!!!

4 and 5 are up!

I wrote another story. And it's gonna crossover with the Twisters fic. I'm a menace, thanks Glen Powell.

Wattpad

Delicate (Jake's Version)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is the biggest asshole that Samantha Kazansky has ever met. He's cocky. He's arrogant. His ego i...

ENJOY!!!

Home sweet home ~ T.I.K

Masterlist

Blurb: After completing the mission, Iceman returns home to his Girlfriend (Y/N) Mitchell; the sister of Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. All her nerves evaporate as she looks into his blue eyes.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff.

[(Y/n) - Your name] [(y/h/c) - your hair colour] [(y/e/c) - your eye colour]

Tom “Iceman” Kazanksky x Fem!Reader. Will include Pete being Pete. Romantic and sibling interactions. She/her pronouns used. vague mention of a small age gap (6 years). Pet names “Angel” and “Babe” used. Short but sweet

Sitting in the living room, knees tucked under your chin, ‘Great balls of fire’ playing at a medium volume and staring absentmindedly out the window. The waves of the beach sparkled through your window, but it didn’t help your nerves. The blue water reminded you of your Boyfriend’s eyes, which you were scared that you would never get to see again. You knew that being the partner of a Navy Pilot came with its up and downs, but you always felt the same mix of hope and dread when your Boyfriend would go on missions. It also didn’t help that your older brother was also in the same profession. So not knowing if you would possibly loose either one, or both of them made your breathing shake and throat dry.

You got up with a sigh and went into your shared bedroom, getting one of his white dress shirts from the wardrobe and put it on like a cardigan. You brought a sleeve to your nose and inhaled the smell of his cologne, letting your mussels relax at last. “I need to take my mind off this for a while” you spoke your thoughts out loud while grabbing your bag and keys. So with the house locked, you made your way to your motorbike. Hopping on and the engine roaring to life.

You had no destination in mind, letting the bike lead the way. Your hair blowing in the wind, the cool breeze stroking your cheeks and the smell of the salty sea in the air brought you peace. Turning left, the bike led you up to a cliff on the nearest mountain. The gravel and soil crinkled and crunched unter the tires, finally getting to the cliff. Parking it in the shade, you walked to the edge. Sitting down with your feet dangling while taking in the view. You felt a tickle on your thigh and looked down in curiosity. Sitting on your thigh, was a green gecko which gazed its small eyes on you. You smiled, being fond of all animals leading you to stroke it’s back. The small reptile seemed content by the action, so it cutely rested its head and drifted off to sleep. Your smile grew, knowing that the little guy trusted you enough to sleep on you made you feel warm inside.

Letting time drift by as you took in the view while caring for the reptile, you realise that your Boyfriend and your brother could be home any minute. Carefully putting the creature onto the warm rock, you got up and rushed to your bike. You carefully but quickly made your way home, with your heart beating hard in your chest. You and your brother weren’t raised religious, but you were praying to God that they were both safe. As you approach the drive way, you don’t see either of their vehicles which made your nerves and adrenaline increase. You parked in your spot and got inside, as you wanted them to come home to a snack and a beer. You set out 2 large bags of Doritos and a six-pack of bottled beer.

You cleaned the non-existent dust off your hands and mumbled “Perfect” under your breath.

-

Ice and Maverick made their way off the boat, bags in hand. Their bodies in fresh, clean civilian clothes. They chatted to one another while they got to their vehicles. “When are you going to get a car Mav? God, you and (Y/n) are so alike it’s insane” Ice through his bag into his trunk. The brunette chuckled and answered like the smartass he is “when pigs fly!”, coaxing a laugh from the Pilot. Getting into/onto their vehicles, they drove to the Kazansky-Mitchell household. They both felt extremely excited to see you, as they had both expressed how much they missed you and hoped you were ok without them. Being gone for up to 6 months obviously would’ve had its ups and downs, so they didn’t want to waste another minute of letting you be without them.

They pull up into the driveway and park in their respective spots, getting out/off with haste to the front door. Ice got his keys out and unlocked the door, his key chain of an ice cube that you had gotten him for his birthday hitting the wood of the front door. Pushing the door open, the sound of fast paced walking was heard. All Ice saw was (y/h/c) and all he felt was arms going around his neck. He didn’t need processing time as his arms rushed to be around you, his head resting on your shoulder and a smile on his face. Light and muffled sobs were heard coming from you as you were officially not boyfriend-and-brother-less.

“Hey Angel, it’s ok. I’m here, I’m here” Ice ran his hands up and down your back to sooth you, which was muscle memory. “Babe, please look at me” he pushed you back a bit, wanting to look into your gorgeous (y/e/c) eyes. Your teary eyes looked up at his and everything you had been worrying about, evaporated. Your face lit up and you let out a sigh. As ice wiped any remaining tears from your face, the moment was interrupted by your brother feeling ‘left out’.

“Wow, this is a lovely wall! I’ve never seen anything like it! I just love how-” you both look at him as he stands with his hands on his hips, looking at the wall. You both laugh and roll your eyes, you went to Maverick’s side and slapped his shoulder. “-Ok, you can shut up now!” You silenced him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, putting a hand on the back of your head. “You’re 6 years older than me and yet I question who really is the oldest here” you let go of him and it’s his turn to slap you, he chuckles. “I missed you too”

After you all settled down and you helped Ice bring in his bags. You all sat on the couch with the snacks and beer, making up for lost time. You laughed together, listened to each others stories of the past months and it felt like they never left.

“Alright guys, I’ll be back for dinner. I’ve just got a meeting with Viper about my Instructor position” Pete stood up and kissed the top of your head and shook Tom’s hand.

Once he was out the door Tom wasted no time in kissing you. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek, which you instantly melted into. Tom picked you up and placed you on his lap, hugging you close. He kissed your cheek, while his fingers played with your hair.

“Home sweet home” Tom’s lips stretched into a soft smile at the cheesy saying. You smiled back at him, mapping his face with your eyes. You still felt like you were dreaming, which is understandable given the length of time you were separated.

You placed your lips to his forehead and then to his lips, pecking them. “I love you Angel” Tom declared. Your smile grew and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

“I love you more Ice cube”

—————————————————

I hope you enjoyed my second imagine on Tumblr!

TOPGUN MASTERLIST

Please refer to my main Masterlist for my request/writing boundaries!

REQUESTS: OPEN

CHARACTERS:

Iceman, Maverick, Goose, Slider, Phoenix, Bob, Rooster.

WORKS:

TOP GUN ‘86 Characters

TOM “ICEMAN” KAZANSKY

HOME SWEET HOME - Iceman x Mitchell!Reader

DAD HEADCANNONS - Dad!Iceman x Mum!reader

WHIPPED - Clingy!Iceman x Worried!Reader

TOP GUN: Maverick Characters

Heavily recommended writer 🧎

Ereardon Masterlist

Masterlist

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

You Again [Miniseries]

It’s been five years since you last saw your childhood best friend and first love Jake Seresin. But fate, or coincidence, has you back in Jake’s life and he’s desperate not to lose you again.

Slow Burn [Full length series]

After a one night stand with Hangman disrupts the fresh start you were looking for when moving to San Diego, the unexpected pregnancy forces you and Jake learn how to live with each other and tolerate one another. As the months go by, you slowly get to know the real Jake beneath the facade he puts on, but when old flames and work obstacles threaten to topple everything, your new relationship is put to the test.

As It Was [Full length series]

When Jake Seresin calls to tell you he’s accepted a permanent position at Top Gun, you’re elated to finally be living in the same city as your best friend. But everything changes when Jake tells you his news — he has a new girlfriend, and he’s serious about her. And while you want to like her, for Jake’s sake, something about her feels wrong. Jake’s arrival in San Diego also puts you in the direct path of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, who has set his sights on you despite being Jake’s sworn enemy. Every move Rooster makes, Jake intercepts. What game are these two playing, and why is Jake more concerned about you moving on with Rooster than he is about his own relationship?

He’d Let Her Go [One-shot]

Jake meets the love of his life in college, but after years together he realizes the best thing he can do if he really loves her is to let her go.

My Girl [Full length series]

Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?

Robert “Bob” Floyd

One Night [One-shot]

You have your eyes on Bob at the Hard Deck, but have to shoot down Jake Seresin first.

Gas Station Tears [One-shot]

After your boyfriend dumps you, your car stalls out in a gas station parking lot. Luckily, Bob Floyd happens to be there to fix your car. Can he fix your heart, too?

It Was Never Him [One-shot]

You catch your boyfriend Rooster making out with a girl at the Hard Deck and only one person can comfort you in the aftermath: Bob Floyd.

What Are You Thinking? [One-shot]

Bob Floyd is a quiet man. Sometimes you have to ask him what he’s thinking just to know what wheels are turning inside of his head. He always gives you a response, until one day, years into your marriage, he turns the question on you.

Friends Don’t [Full length series]

Bob has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly volunteered to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Come Back [Full length series]

Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Too Far Gone [One-shot]

Your life changed forever the moment you fell for Bradley Bradshaw. But his life wasn’t an easy one to fit into. He had more baggage than lost and found at JFK airport. You were always one for a fixer upper. Bradley could be your ultimate passion project. But was he too far gone for you to save him?

His Best Friend’s Wedding [Two-part series]

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right?

Rhett Abbott

A Place Like This [Full length series]

Rhett Abbott has never met a girl like you. You’re a corporate city girl in Wabang on borrowed company time — he thinks there’s no way you would waste it on him. So when you fall for the local bull rider, you’re both a little surprised. What will it take to get Rhett to realize he can give you everything you’re looking for? And will Rhett be able to reconcile the fact that your job is literally to dismantle Wabang and break apart the only place his family has ever known?

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