Bradley Bradshaw X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

Danger Meter [2]

》Crash《

▪︎Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

▪︎Pronouns: She/Her (Fem! Reader)

▪︎Warnings: Language, also probably some inaccuracies

▪︎Genre: Soulmate Au! Angst and fluff

▪︎Synopsis: Your soulmate rarely seems to be out of the High risk zone according to your mark, which makes you worry. Oh well— you already know that the same goes for him.

Note: Thank you for the likes/reblogs/comment! I couldn't help myself so here is part 2!

》 Masterlist 》 Bradley's Masterlist

》 Previous 》 Next

"Crash watch yourself, there's a-"

It was probably your fault, you were to pre-occupied thinking about what happened last night that you processed Hangman's warnings a little too late.

"Shit! Birdstrike! Birdstrike!" You yelled, looking at your controls. "Left engine is on fire! Climbing!" Hangman looks at you, growing worried about you by the second. "Don't tell me she's gonna try to fucking save it." He mumbled, keeping a close eye on you.

You'd try to save the plane even though you're literally about to nosedive into the ground. Hence the callsign 'Crash'.

"Throttling back! Shutting off fuel on left engine, extinguishing fire!" You informed Maverick and Hangman. Maverick can only utter an 'Oh my god' while Hangman could do nothing but watch worriedly.

Bob felt like someone dumped an ice bucket on him as he and his fellow naval aviators listened to the radio to know what's happening on air. His insides were twisting as he wanted to do nothing but to hurl and cry.

Everyone semmed to still as they continued to listen to the radio. "Bird strike..?" Payback mumbled.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Bob uttered, he can feel his head spinning and his hands get sweaty. Pheonix shot a worried glance at him.

Rooster, who was sitting in one of the chairs looked at Bob. "Crash's your girl, Bob?" He tried to read Bob's expression. Coyote intervened, "I think now is not the right time for you to be asking that, man."

Roster nodded as he muttered out an apology to the Weapons System Officer who was intently listening to the radio. As Rooster further observe Bob, he realized two things: Bob deeply cares for you, which makes him think you know each other personally, or you're both romantically involved. And the other one is-

He sure hopes that you and Bob aren't a thing.

Rooster was pulled away from his thoughts, hearing your voice on the radio. He felt a pit forming on his stomach as you yelled, 'Right engine is out! It's still spinning-"

'Crash! You can't save it!' Hangman's voice was heard through the radio. All of them perked up, they never heard Hangman scared before. Not even once, and the fact that he was worried for another person— considering he's Hangman, he'll leave you out to dry.

Rooster's worry grew by the second for his fellow pilot. He ran his hand through his hair, an action Coyote noticed, and without fail he saw something he thinks that's hard to believe.

Rooster's mark was an angry shade of dark red.

Coyote was stunned, his eyes widening as he tried to process his thoughts over yours, hangman's and maverick's shouting over the radio.

"No fucking way.." He breathed out, aviators beside him thought he was talking about what's happening over the radio. Boy were they wrong.

'I can't control it! I'm going down! I'm going down!' Panic and terror laced in your voice, Rooster can feel his chest tightening as he looked down and laced his hands together, finally noticing something wrong with his mark.

The stripe was almost black.

It can't be, what's happening? He looked at it, and looked back to the radio. His head was racing different thoughts per minute. He felt his breathing got labored as he tries to calm himself.

"No.. no.." Bob mumbled, clearly distraught as Pheonix offered a comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

Right, you and Bob are probably soulmates. He needs to put that into consideration, maybe it's just a coincidence? But, having your soulmate's danger meter almost turn black is rare. He read about a study that found out people who's soulmates have a high risk job (i.e being in the military) are reported to be the one experiencing red and black marks.

You— a naval aviator who's about to crash, and him, who's mark is almost black.

'You can't save it! Eject eject!' They heard Maverick yell as Hangman told the same thing. 'Crash! don't you dare join your jet crash!'

'Eject eject eject!'

Taglist [Closed]: @auszimbo

Rooster x reader where hes just absolutely whipped from this woman, completely wrapped around her finger and hangman and stuff finds it fucking hilarious.

Bradley joins his friends barefoot, with a pink purse slung over his shoulder.

"Rooster," Coyote looks him up and down, sees the pom-pom keychain dangling from the bag, "You look.. different."

"It's like you joined a hippie ring and a cheerleading squad all at once," Natasha snorts against the mouth of her beer bottle.

Bob doesn't tease him about the purse that he sets down beside the man on the bench, but he does give it an odd sort of stare-down.

"Bradshaw," Jake drawls, "If you need a bag, next time just ask me. I've got a thousand shitty drawstring ones from the marathons I jog."

Of course, Bradley thinks, Hangman brags. But no matter how many marathons Jake has stormed his way through, he's the real winner.

"This is my girlfriend's," Bradley drawls, taking particular satisfaction in the way that Jake's face pales, "She's taking pictures of the sunset. And her shoes were giving her a blister, so she borrowed mine, thank you very much."

"'Surprised you didn't swap shoes with her," Hangman recovers, sneering at Bradley's bare, sandy feet, "What was she wearing, heels?"

"Wedges," Bradley grunts, "And if you even think about messing with her, I'll wedge one up your ass."

Birds of a Feather 》 5

❀ Back to Navigation ❀   ❀ Top Gun Masterlist ❀

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

WARNINGS: Enemies to Lovers, Mentions of Injury, Angst, Cursing, and FLUFF <3

Summary: It’s finally mission day and both you and Rooster are nervous. The mission is smooth until it’s not and both you and him are put in danger, resulting in quick decisions that will decide if you live or die to see the future you and Bradley Bradshaw both desperately crave.

A/N: The final part!! OMG this took me very long to write and research and plan and… wow I just can’t believe it’s done! Thank you so much to everyone who supported this series - it was my very first time writing both for Rooster and for Top Gun, so the support as been overwhelming and so special to me. You are who encouraged me to write this and make it the best it can be. I hope you all enjoy the final installment!  <3, Songbird

Word Count: 7.6K

An austere mood graced the hangar nowadays. You had been informed that, not only was the mission moved up so that it was in less than a week, but Captain Mitchell was no longer your instructor. It had happened after Coyote attempted the direct climb after the missile was dropped and up the coffin. He lost consciousness, needing Phoenix to wake him up and talk him through ejecting with little time left to spare. It was unbelievably scary, watching Coyote’s jet spin without a pilot guiding it. Thankfully, he was able to eject safely and only needed a night’s observation in the med bay. Now, though, Admiral Simpson was in charge of your little flock.

“Alright. We are imposing a new height ceiling and increasing the time to four minutes.” His statement shocks everyone, making you look at Phoenix, Fanboy, and then turn in your seat to find Rooster’s gaze. His holds the same expression you have – complete and utter confusion.

“But, sir, there’s no way we can have those parameters and come out alive. If we raise the ceiling then the SAMs will find us and if we increase the time then their patrol will be on us before we can fly out of the coffin.” Rooster says, shifting in his seat. The admiral’s lack of response says everything to the lot of you. He wasn’t planning for those flying to come back. Instead, he shifts gears.

Keep reading

"Think you can handle a Bradshaw, sweetheart?" Bradley challenged the woman infront of him, caging her in with his arms as he peaked at her through his sunglasses.

"Could handle you plenty fine, Bradley. Don't think you could me though," She lightly shoved his chest, releasing her as she started to walk away.

"And why is that?" His curiosity for the woman he met a few hours ago grew.

"Does the name Michell sound familiar?"

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw fanfic is up on Wattpad if anyone would like to check it out! @ autogirls

Challenge Accepted

Series will be done after p.3. It will include smut, because I love keeping my readers fed, but do you guys want another mini-series on Rooster? Or some more imagines in general?

Send me requests or message me! I love writing, especially requests, so please send some in.

Top Gun: Maverick imagine ideas:

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Aviator!

Call sign: Rampage

Rooster and Rampage haven't seen eachother in sixteen years since he cut her out of his life, and she never knew why. Until he gets tired of hiding and confesses not only his feelings, but who made him push you away and why.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Single mom!

You met Bradley at the Hard Deck, and you know he's a good man, but once your babysitter brings your son to work, you think it's over. Who would want a woman with a kid? Turns out, he's found you even more beautiful and stronger than ever.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem! Mitchell! Aviator!

Call sign: Vulture

Your dad didn't want you on this mission, but you were asked and are determined to stay. Only thing bothering you is Hangman, who thinks it's just a game of flirting until an accident makes him realize that it's much more than that. But your dad isn't going to let his little girl go so easily, especially when it comes to Hangman.

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Comment which one you guys would like to see, or request your own! Requests are always open!

life for two

pairings: platonic pete "maverick" mitchell x kazansky!reader, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader

word count: ~0.6k

warnings: pregnancy, allusions to grief, top gun: maverick spoilers, allusions to anxiety and ptsd

a/n: there is an incredibly detailed collection by @ofstoriesandstardust revolving around a mitchell!reader x rooster where her godfather is iceman, but i have been pondering the idea of if the roles were reversed for a hot minute. i VERY highly recommend reading through the same mistakes-verse if you are a tg:m fan as this collection does an incredible job of expanding upon the characters we love so much from a different perspective. but this is my little self-indulgent spin on things.

song inspo: life for two by brandon jenner

A light knock broke Maverick’s focus on the reports scattered across his desk. The captain peered up to spot his intruder, eyes softening at the figure standing timidly in the doorway.

“Frost,” Maverick chimed. Her presence was always a welcome one, to be sure, but her demeanor was worrying to him. Ice’s daughter had always stood with as much pride as her father did in his earliest days at Top Gun. There was something off about her now, with her shoulders slumped and her fingers fiddling at her sides. Rather than a grown woman, Maverick thought he was looking at a frightened child.

“Uncle Mav,” she tried, voice already shaking. What had happened? How had his goddaughter been reduced to such an open state of fragility? Not even on her father’s funeral day did she let her resilience go. Maverick crossed the room in quick strides before tugging her inside and shutting the door behind them both.

He let her get settled on the small couch before sitting beside her. Maverick’s eyes didn’t budge from their fixation on her worrying expression. Frostbite couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Her hands continued to fidget frantically, wringing back and forth in an attempt to steady herself. Still, not a drop of her nerves relented.

Maverick tried calling out her name. He was now getting scared. Ice reacted similarly when telling him his cancer had come back. Was similar glum news awaiting him at the end of this conversation? “What’s going on, kid? Talk to me.”

At last, Frostbite looked up at her godfather. Tears were beginning to break along her lashline. It sent a cold shock through Maverick. But before he could press further, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

Oh. Oh. The news itself wasn’t entirely jarring. His goddaughter and godson had been together for quite some time, happy as can be. What was jarring was the fear that seemed to freeze one of the most fearless people he’d ever seen.

Maverick offered a soft smile in response. “Frost, that’s great. You’ve wanted kiddos for you and Bradley since you were kiddos.” He gently clapped a hand on her shoulder, feeling the muscle tense beneath his touch almost instantly. 

“What if he doesn’t want it?” Every word came out shaking. “What if he does, but another deployment comes up? What if he never makes it home?” Some of the tears Frost had been holding back slipped down her paling cheeks. Doubts and worst-case scenarios had been running marathons in her mind ever since that little plastic stick showed two dark lines. Giving voice to these ideas was only making them seem that much more plausible.

Frostbite did not give Pete the time to counter before she went on, her next words chilling him to the bone. “He should be here.”

Maverick knew she did not mean Bradley. Sure, Sarah was still ever-present and well in their lives even in the face of ultimate grief. But what little girl imagined going through a pregnancy without her father there? Walking down the aisle at her wedding without his arm linked through hers? Raising his grandchild who would never know his warm embrace?

A sob brought him back to the moment. Frostbite was bent forward, hands pressed against her head as her body shook with every cry struggling to surface. It broke his heart to see her, even now, trying to hold some composure.

“Come here,” he beckoned. Maverick softly tugged her to lean against his side, arms wrapping around her trembling form. Frost tucked her face against his jacket as she finally let go of all she had been holding back: all of the sadness, anger, denial, and resentment that came with grief.

Pete held her close, letting some tears of his own fall as the pair grieved for the man who tied them together.

-

i might write a part 2 where frostbite actually tells bradley that she is pregnant but this is all my mind will let me get away with for now. i hope someone enjoys >.<

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.

🥺 i’m so glad you enjoyed!

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.

thank you for the love on open arms 🥺 it’s been a long time since i’ve been proud of a piece of writing and it means a lot to have it shared and enjoyed 🫂

🥹🥹 it’s one of my favorite songs ever because of the lyrics and i just felt so inspired by them! thank you again for this emily 🩷

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.

getting a new bradley idea 🤭 angsty comfort ofc bc that’s almost all i know

but if anyone wants to pop some suggestions or concepts for me to write on in my inbox, i would love to toy around with some ideas!

mine too emily 😅 i hope you enjoyed! perhaps we could visit bradley and “frost” another time to see how they managed.. with more angst of course.

life for two

pairings: platonic pete "maverick" mitchell x kazansky!reader, bradley "rooster" bradshaw x kazansky!reader

word count: ~0.6k

warnings: pregnancy, allusions to grief, top gun: maverick spoilers, allusions to anxiety and ptsd

a/n: there is an incredibly detailed collection by @ofstoriesandstardust revolving around a mitchell!reader x rooster where her godfather is iceman, but i have been pondering the idea of if the roles were reversed for a hot minute. i VERY highly recommend reading through the same mistakes-verse if you are a tg:m fan as this collection does an incredible job of expanding upon the characters we love so much from a different perspective. but this is my little self-indulgent spin on things.

song inspo: life for two by brandon jenner

A light knock broke Maverick’s focus on the reports scattered across his desk. The captain peered up to spot his intruder, eyes softening at the figure standing timidly in the doorway.

“Frost,” Maverick chimed. Her presence was always a welcome one, to be sure, but her demeanor was worrying to him. Ice’s daughter had always stood with as much pride as her father did in his earliest days at Top Gun. There was something off about her now, with her shoulders slumped and her fingers fiddling at her sides. Rather than a grown woman, Maverick thought he was looking at a frightened child.

“Uncle Mav,” she tried, voice already shaking. What had happened? How had his goddaughter been reduced to such an open state of fragility? Not even on her father’s funeral day did she let her resilience go. Maverick crossed the room in quick strides before tugging her inside and shutting the door behind them both.

He let her get settled on the small couch before sitting beside her. Maverick’s eyes didn’t budge from their fixation on her worrying expression. Frostbite couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Her hands continued to fidget frantically, wringing back and forth in an attempt to steady herself. Still, not a drop of her nerves relented.

Maverick tried calling out her name. He was now getting scared. Ice reacted similarly when telling him his cancer had come back. Was similar glum news awaiting him at the end of this conversation? “What’s going on, kid? Talk to me.”

At last, Frostbite looked up at her godfather. Tears were beginning to break along her lashline. It sent a cold shock through Maverick. But before he could press further, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

Oh. Oh. The news itself wasn’t entirely jarring. His goddaughter and godson had been together for quite some time, happy as can be. What was jarring was the fear that seemed to freeze one of the most fearless people he’d ever seen.

Maverick offered a soft smile in response. “Frost, that’s great. You’ve wanted kiddos for you and Bradley since you were kiddos.” He gently clapped a hand on her shoulder, feeling the muscle tense beneath his touch almost instantly. 

“What if he doesn’t want it?” Every word came out shaking. “What if he does, but another deployment comes up? What if he never makes it home?” Some of the tears Frost had been holding back slipped down her paling cheeks. Doubts and worst-case scenarios had been running marathons in her mind ever since that little plastic stick showed two dark lines. Giving voice to these ideas was only making them seem that much more plausible.

Frostbite did not give Pete the time to counter before she went on, her next words chilling him to the bone. “He should be here.”

Maverick knew she did not mean Bradley. Sure, Sarah was still ever-present and well in their lives even in the face of ultimate grief. But what little girl imagined going through a pregnancy without her father there? Walking down the aisle at her wedding without his arm linked through hers? Raising his grandchild who would never know his warm embrace?

A sob brought him back to the moment. Frostbite was bent forward, hands pressed against her head as her body shook with every cry struggling to surface. It broke his heart to see her, even now, trying to hold some composure.

“Come here,” he beckoned. Maverick softly tugged her to lean against his side, arms wrapping around her trembling form. Frost tucked her face against his jacket as she finally let go of all she had been holding back: all of the sadness, anger, denial, and resentment that came with grief.

Pete held her close, letting some tears of his own fall as the pair grieved for the man who tied them together.

-

i might write a part 2 where frostbite actually tells bradley that she is pregnant but this is all my mind will let me get away with for now. i hope someone enjoys >.<

🥺 you are too kind! i will have to check these other fics out later!!

𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑤 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑠 𝑣𝑖.

thats what friends are for by @beccaanne814

lost in the fire by @zstrn

bumping beach bikini

if you met me first

by @tip-top-cloud-surfer

flash me by @wannabeschyulersister

leave a light on

bedside manner

by @sometimesanalice

ill guide you by @bradshawsbitch

why do you care? by @whatsmymeme

oral fixations by @foreverrandomwritings

bradley and the bump by @justmyheart#

THE STACHE IN(AC)CIDENT by @feralforfrank

another bad date by @accioprocrastination

oh no, theres an arm around my waist by @sehnsuchts-trunken

merrier the more by @sylviebell

do you wanna touch me? by @roosterforme

love in the dark

if it makes you happy

by @bloatedandalone04

waves by @its-the-pilot

as usual by @inmyloveworld

i can fix that by @ccbb2222

and you will find me by @beyondthesefourwalls

A Perfect Snowman || Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Bradley visits you in Boston. A winter attack surprises you both, so you decide to build a snowman together

Warnings: none

Word count: 1231

Authors: Bear & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: Building a Snowman

The first day of winter was a paradise, with snowflakes the size of feathers falling from a grey cloud. From your porch to the road and beyond, it quickly turned into a completely white desert. Bradley started clearing a path that day, cheerfully holding a snow shovel in his hand. Unfortunately, a few days later his newly formed road had been banked up above hip level, and the infantile thrill of excitement that had accompanied those first flakes had been replaced with a calm resolve and a sense of responsibility appropriate for adults. "Baby! I'll have to shovel!" As he was putting on his jacket downstairs, he spoke louder to make sure you could hear him in the restroom on the floor. Bradly started regretting traveling to Boston to spend Christmas with you for the first time in a while.

"Wait!" You yelled loudly, then ran down the stairs. Looking at him with joy, you grabbed your jacket and said, "I can help."

"No, you stay home, it's cold outside."

"It's winter, so the cold is to be expected," you commented, pulling on your shoes before tying them up firmly.

"I said something, Y/N, so don't fuck with me."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you pouted, "You got bossy recently. My assistance will not be provided to you, don't worry."

"So why are you going out with me?"

"For some fresh air," you shrugged, wrapping your thick scarf around your neck tightly. "I love smells and atmosphere of Christmas... But it's too much for me."

"You've always been the one who has been obstinate in our relationship," Rooster grumbled while rolling his eyes. Being the gentleman he was, he opened the door and moved aside to allow you to enter the outside area first. “After you.”

As you walked through the door, you bowed slightly, thanking him. As soon as you saw all the snow around you, you instantly jumped with excitement.

Bradley watched you with his eyebrow slightly lifted. "Y/N, you behave like a puppy seeing snow for the first time."

You smiled at him and went your own way. "I almost feel like it!" 

"What are you doing?!'

Jumping into the snow with a loud giggle, you yelled, "I'm being the playful one!" Soon, you flopped into the fluffy snow to make a snow angel.

Bradley watched your lighthearted actions, but he quickly turned his attention to shoveling your driveway.

"Sweetie! Could you help me get up right now!" You asked, waving your hands in the air as you were unable to get up on your own.

"Am I resembling a crane? I don't believe so," Bradley responded with a sneer, yet he walked over to you and quickly raised you up with one strong pull.

With an eyeroll, you grabbed his jacket collar. "Why are you so grumpy today, Bradley? What's up with you?"

"I understand why you're so excited about all the snow, but you don't even try to help me with shoveling, even though you are well aware of how much time I lost doing it the last time."

"Baby? I just offered you help, and you told me not to fuck with you when you say no," you replied. "If I were you, I wouldn't do it. There's a chance it'll snow tonight. Let's build a snowman instead!"

Bradly put the shovel down after giving your proposition some thought. "Then let's do it then."

After squeaking joyfully and kissing his cheek, you moved away to find a perfect place for the snowman. Once you found the perfect spot, you created a snowball and started rolling it around, creating a base.

Bradley imitated your actions by first creating a tiny snowball, placing it on the snow, and then beginning to roll it about while observing how the snowball doubled its size.

As you watched him, you giggled, "My ball will be a base! I already know how we'll dress him up!"

"Do I need to be afraid? He posed the query while rolling the ball around, making it bigger and bigger.

"There's no need to be afraid. You'll love it, I think," you shrugged, continuing to work on the base until it met your standards. Then you helped him with the middle ball.

Bradly placed the center ball on the base with a bit of your assistance, then made another snowball to roll it through snow in the attempt to form the head for the snowman.

It wasn't long before the ready head was placed on top of the snowman. With pure excitement you run home, saying, "Okay! Now wait... I'm going to grab the stuff!"

Bradley, waiting for you to return, started shoveling the driveway at least a little bit.

Looking at him from the porch, you yelled, "I'm hiding the shovel from you!" You walked up to the snowman. "Leave it now, Bradley."

Bradley sighed and set the shovel down before coming up to you. "What exactly do we have here?"

"Just stuff," you summed it up before you began working.

The snowman was first given aviator sunglasses, a smug smile with a toothpick, and then a pilot-like jacket was wrapped around the snowy figure.

As soon as you were finished, you looked proudly at the final result, then glared at Bradley. "The snowman looks familiar, right? Who is he?" You chuckled softly.

The snowman now looked just like Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, and Rooster was unable to contain his laughter. "Have you seen my phone? I must snap a picture and send it to him."

"I grabbed it while I was at home," you smiled, pulling his phone out of your pocket but not giving it to him. "As a result of your stubbornness today, you have to pay for it."

"I need to pay? For my phone? Is this enough?" He asked, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

A hum escaped your lips. "It's not enough."

Bradly kissed your lips after that remark.

"I think that's enough, sir," you giggled as you handed him his phone. "Quickly! I want to see his reaction."

Bradly first snapped a picture of the snowman by itself, and then he posed with you next to it. He hid the phone in his jacket pocket after sending images to Maverick.

"Do you think he will like me still? Or should I never show up near him again?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bradley gently reprimanded, "You know well enough you're his favorite pupil and even if you'd kick his ass, he'd forgive you instantly. Of course, he'll claim that I made you build this snowman. He has no idea, though, that we should have added a massive dick to the top of the snowman's head if we had really meant to create him."

"No, no. Our snowman would get a massive dick if we try to build our beloved Hangman," you joked.

"Oh. My. God. Yes. I'll admit it -  you're fucking right," Bradley readily agreed with what you said, and after giving it some thought, he raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you having the same thought? Let's build a snowman resembling Hangman, let's add a dick on top. I'll be happy to send him a pic," he said and a mischievous grin spread across his lips.

As you rubbed your hands together, you were already giggling uncontrollably. "We have to do this! To work!"

“Hey, it’s Bradley”

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Gn Reader

TW: Cursing, like a lot of cursing

A/N: it’s my first time actually posting my writing on here so pls be nice! Also, feel free to mention anything we need to fix grammatically. Proofreader and coauthor is @lunamoon1744

“Hey, uh, it's Ro-Bradley. It's Bradley. Fuck it’s probably late where you’re at. Sorry, I just, fuck, look, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I loved you, love you, still love you and I know this is a shitty way to go about it but there’s a mission and I don’t know whether I'm going to make it back, but I was back at Top Gun for a few weeks, and God, all I could think about was us, you, and how much I love you and how much I fucked you over and I’m sorry. God I'm so fucking sorry an’ I’m not asking you to forgive me but I can't die without apologizing, without letting you know that leaving you was the worst decision of my life and if I could go back I’d-, fuck I’m running out of time, I just, I love you so fucking much and I, I gotta go, fuck, I’m sorry, I love you.”

Bradley Bradshaw. Rooster. God, you loved him, and he had broken your heart. It’d been a few years since the breakup, and honestly you're surprised he still knows your number. Lord knows you had to look back into your contacts to figure out whether he called you through his phone, or someone else's. It was probably the ship's phone, seeing as you still had his cell number in your contacts.

It probably doesn't matter by now. If he went on the mission right after he called you, that would have been 15 hours, 48 minutes, and approximately 56 seconds ago. You begin pacing back and forth across the house. If he was going to die, he’d already be dead, and if he was going to live, he’d already be back on the carrier. Plus, there was no guarantee he was even going back to Top Gun, he could be going straight to his next assignment. You stop dead in your tracks. He could be dead.

Then again, that was the problem wasn't it? It didn't really matter, you would go to the ends of the Earth if he had asked you to, if he had so much as implied that he needed or wanted you to. Maybe that's why you had already finished packing, bag already by the door, heart already knowing what your head was trying to figure out.

Leaning over the kitchen island, you pull out your laptop and start looking for any possible flights to anywhere even remotely close to San Diego and Top Gun. A few hours that pass over your nerves like shitty tap dancers, about 50 tabs, and a coffee or three later you finally come across a flight. It's expensive, significantly more than you would ever pay normally, and through an airline you've never used before. It's also leaving in an hour from an airport 49 minutes away. Taking a deep breath, you say fuck it and start typing your credit card numbers in, because you are tired and desperate and you just need to be there in case he did come back.

God, you hope he's alive.

It was a seven and a half hour flight and a two hour drive, having booked the first flight you found to anywhere close by. You had a bit of a drive to get to Top Gun, but you honestly can’t remember much of your trip. How can you? For all you know, you're doing all of this for a funeral that you're not even sure you would be invited to.

You're not completely sure how you ended up in front of the Hard Deck. Well, that's a lie. You know damn well why you stopped here before trying to find a hotel. It's an aviator's bar. It's where the aviators go after work. You’d been here with him the first time around. When you were dating. When you thought you were going to marry him.

It's stupid, and emotional, and childish to stop. It’s been a little less than two days since he made the phone call, and if he is alive he'd still be on the ship, or in a hospital somewhere. That didn't stop you from walking in, from looking around, from ordering a drink, from sitting down and waiting on some distant hope that he'd pop through the door. You haven't actually figured out what you're going to do when you see him again. But fuck if that didn't mean you still wanted to see him.

It was another three days of watching and waiting, of sitting at the bar with Penny, of wondering whether or not the last actual conversation you will ever have with the love of your life was when you broke up, when he told you he never loved you.

It's your fifth day in San Diego, when you see his Bronco in the Hard Deck parking lot. You know that fucking car anywhere and you know for a fact that if it was here then Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was alive. Which means he could have damn well called you and informed you of such!

Taking a deep breath, as to not preemptively jump to conclusions, and to not kill the first person that looks at you wrong, you hurry up and force your way through the Hard Deck’s doors, making a scan for tall, brunette, and mustached.

It's not hard to find him. He is standing by a handful of other pilots and Penny. She's under who you assume is the pilot named Pete’s arm, looking very amused by your entrance. Bradshaw, on the other hand, is laughing lazily with his friends, like you hadn't thought he might be dead for the better part of the week.

“BRADLEY FUCKING BRADSHAW!”

The sound of pool balls clinking stops almost immediately, and you hear whispers arising from some of the pilots scattered around the bar. The man of the week looks in your direction, and while his eyes light up, his face falls as you start marching across the floor towards him. “...y/n?”

You feel multiple eyes on you as you stomp across the bar, and out of the corner of your eye you can also see a few heads turn. “What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you? The fuck was that phone call?” You come to a stop right in front of him, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Have you been landing too hard it’s starting to fuck with your head?” there's a snort on your right, coming from some Ken-doll-looking motherfucker. “Because that shit-”

“Y/n?”

“Is not okay! At all! You don't call someone, and tell them you love them, and that your sorry, and then just fucking disappear! Honestly! Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn't hit you upside your head, I swear to god-”

He interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug and holding you against him, and you use every ounce of self control to not hug him back. He leans slightly back, looking into your eyes, and opening his mouth to speak.

“You came?” …you came? YOU CAME? What in the ever loving fuck did he think you were going to do after he called, go to brunch and have some fucking mimosas? Chill at the beach? Not lose your absolute goddamn mind?

“OF COURSE I FUCKING CAME!” You struggle in his arms before giving up and grabbing his shoulders in order to pull him down a bit so your eye level. “We may not have left on the best of terms, but I still fucking love you! Honestly, you could have called me at any point and I would have shown up because that's what you do when you love someone! And maybe that wouldn’t be my best discission but, fuck, I've never had a doubt that you would-”

“You still love me?” Maybe it was the way he said it, sounding like he was going to cry, or the way he looked like he was in complete shock over the fact that you still love him, even though he’s the one who walked away, but it makes your anger fade from the loud and explosive kind to the tired and worried one.

“Jesus fucking son of a fuck I swear to-” deep breaths, homicide is illegal and there’s witnesses, lots of witnesses, because almost everyone in the bar has turned to stare, nosey fucks. “-Yes. I love you, I loved you when we were dating, I loved you when we broke up, and I love you now, but, if you say one. More. Stupid. Fucking. Thing. I'm going to drown you in the ocean-” and it's true. You do love him. But it's also true that if he doesn't stop interrupting you, you are going to try and throw him in the ocean. It wouldn't work, you've tried it before, but it would make you feel better.

He smiles like a dumbass, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. He puts his hand on your cheek, leaning down and pressing your foreheads together. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, I’m aware, but I swear to god if you interupt me one more fucking time-” which, he of course decides to do by kissing you. Which, not to say that you are complaining, but it's hard to stay mad when he's kissing you like it's all he's ever thought about. Putting both of your hands on his chest, you lightly push him away. “-we’re not in a movie. Kissing me’s not gonna get me to shut up-”

“What if I kiss you multiple times?” And isn't that a tempting offer? But, as much as you love him, that phone call was the worst possible way of getting in contact with you again.

You narrow your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching ever so slightly up. “You can kiss me everyday for the rest of our lives, but it’s still not gonna stop me from thinking you're an idiot and calling you on it.”

“Promise?”

You can't help but to shake your head and smile. “Goddammit Bradley, I'm trying to be mad at you, you inconsiderate asshole. Yes, yes I promise, for as long as your dumbass wants to keep me-”

“Forever then.” And there it was, that stupid fucking smile that you loved. The one that made you stop yelling, at least for the moment, because he was alive, and he loved you, and he wasn't going to walk away this time. Sighing as you lean into him, the exhaustion of the week finally starts to catch up with you, but at least you know that he's safe.