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bloatedandalone04 · 8 months

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If It Makes You Happy - Part 1

➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy

Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”

His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.

Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

“Yes,”

One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”

Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”

If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is.

He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.

So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.”

After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief.

Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier.

The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.”

As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure.

You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.

He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours.

You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.

“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.

“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder.

“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”

That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?”

Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”

He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?”

You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”

You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.

After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.

“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious.

“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long.

Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months.

And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him.

It was simple, easy, casual.

You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.

Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him.

“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink.

“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,”

That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops.

You were beautiful, to put it simply.

He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark.

It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you.

The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things.

Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well.

As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits.

He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.

He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights.

All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it.

There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you.

You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be.

He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house.

And you had started to, kind of.

Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.

There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?

Right?

As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”

You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”

“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”

Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.”

Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake.

“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”

You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”

Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”

At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.”

His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer.

“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”

That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”

He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace.

Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”

It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation.

The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,”

You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone.

As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him.

The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.

“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”

This was it.

Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”

He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,”

Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”

From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,”

There it was.

You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”

You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.”

His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”

You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?”

Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”

It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs.

“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”

You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you.

“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw.

You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried.

He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half.

Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart.

As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact.

He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.

It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock.

“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”

“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”

“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”

“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-”

Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”

And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days.

A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you.

His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home.

His.

Bradley had to laugh.

You weren’t his.

He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.

God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now.

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.

Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock.

Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?

A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer.

He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.

If you listened to it at all.

“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”

He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to.

“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side.

It went on like that for weeks.

Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you.

He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier.

He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his.

Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you.

You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot.

He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend.

Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago.

While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.

He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up.

Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more.

When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck.

Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead.

He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now.

Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.

Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.

You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.

Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too.

He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you.

After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.

He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.

You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.

He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want.

To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck.

Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

2K notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Note

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 The rest of the tags are in the comments!

@simp-for-fictional-people

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@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

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promisingyounglady · 1 month

Text

stranger. | BB x Reader

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

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

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

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

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

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

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

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

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

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

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

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

“What’s your name?”

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warnersister · 27 days

Text

Newborn Days

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Moments with his wife and newborn son

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

He could get used to this.

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vixenobrian · 4 months

Text

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

#miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #top gun: maverick #rooster top gun #top gun #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

How did you get so good?

summary: you've never had a one-night stand and honestly, it shows.

prompt: when they just finished hooking up and he says "I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name," she *forgot* his name.

words: 2.8 k

playlist: I mean for this fic, is this one.

warnings: smut. like pure dirty smut, smut like i've never written before. i mean it. I've been obsessing over Rooster and I just like I wanted to write something and I have a couple of things but this was just self-indulgent, also I need practice for what's coming with 18.

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw masterlist

You usually weren’t the type to do a one-night stand.

In fact, you were the opposite of doing such a thing. Nonetheless, when you were summoned back to Top Gun after years for a high-level mission after you’d just broken up with your fiance, you realized that you needed to live a little more, especially since if you were chosen and for some strange reason you didn’t make it, you didn’t want to regret it.

Therefore, you weren't too close off when you were presented with the tall and tanned handful of handsome pilots that boisterously moved toward you. Instead, you chose to give them a little smile, play pool with the tiny white summer dress that you decided to wear and glance at them through your lashes, sipping on your drink slowly as you wondered who the best candidate could be. They all introduced themselves to you, always chuckling a bit as they heard your call sign, which was the usual reaction when they heard “y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n”

But then, the first four chords rang out of the piano, and your knees when weak.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will but what a thrill, goodness gracious great balls of fire!” he sang, his voice deep and deliciously raspy, you felt your heart jumping as you turned to where the voice came from.

He was taller than anyone in there, you could see it just by the way he was moving with the piano. Sun-kissed skin, sandy-brown hair that turned gold with the certain light of the room, broad shoulders, and a pornstache that would look awful on anyone except him. That’s how you’d first seen him and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him after that, and when they introduced you two, he couldn’t look away either, instead, he looked at you unashamedly.

“...‘Rooster’ Bradshaw,” he announced as his palm slid into yours but you could only focus on his honey-burnt eyes and his smile.

“y/n ‘Brat’ y/l/n,” you muttered as your cheeks burned, his lips quirked up when he heard your call sign.

After that, the night turned into a blur and you weren’t sure exactly how you ended up on the side of the blue bronco as gentle moans that were muffled with his palm left your lips while your eyelashes flutter as he rocked his hips forward against your core, his large hands gripping your hipbones so harsh that you knew bruises would appear tomorrow.

“y/n,” he breathed out and you whimpered. “Get in the car,” He warned, his voice husky as he pressed his forehead to yours while his eyes remained shut, almost as if he opened them, he would fuck you open right there and then, in front of everyone.

You also weren’t aware of how quickly he’d manage to reach his place since you were too busy being a moaning- whimpering mess as his hand climbed through your thigh and into your core. But you didn’t miss how he met your gaze, the look on his face said it all. “You are soaked, darling,” he whispered and you felt like crying as his thumb started to stroke a delicate pattern against your clit.

It all turned into a mess once he opened the door for you, as you stumbled through his porch, already pulling down the annoying Hawaiian shirt he’d worn that night and you were sure you’d left it outside once he’d managed to open the door to the small cottage he called home while you were already kicking your shoes off and fumbling with his belt. You continued to kiss as you enter the house and he let you down, your hands moving up and down, finding fabric and occasionally skin, moving, finding, touching, discarding clothes, more touching.

It was a miracle you’d manage to reach his bed, honestly.

But against all odds, there you were. In bed with the most handsome man you’d ever met, a man you’d met barely hours before, whimpering for him, moaning for him as you felt how hard he was in his boxers when he moved his hips against you.

“Rooster, don’t tease” you breathed out as he struggled to undo the zipper of your dress, too distracted by the way you were bucking your hips forward to his while placing your hands on the small of his back, hurrying him up to fuck you already without saying it but you knew, he knew.

You were impatient for him.

“You really are a brat, you know?” he murmured as his hands traveled from the zipper of your dress to the cotton panties that you were wearing. He hooked the fingers and pulled your panties down slowly before colliding his lips against yours, it was a bruising kiss, so fucking needy that it made you dizzy.

Without warning, he’d pressed a hard thumb into your slit and you jolted, quickly your nails dug into his back and you were sure that there would be a pattern of crescent moons on his back tomorrow. As one of his hands stroked you, rubbing and flicking, his free arm fell into the side of your head while his nose pressed right under your chin, giving him access to your neck as you let out a silent moan. His knuckles pressed themselves into your clit and you felt your knees shaking, your walls clenching at nothing. You feel like crying.

“Does that feel good, darling?” he muttered as he licked your neck and you couldn’t answer because he soon pushed two fingers into you and you screamed at the stretch while he watched you carefully. “I bet that feels good,” he whispered against the shell of your ear and you could swear you hear his smug smirk.

His fingers speed up, forcing your entire lower half to vibrate and your knees began to shake. If you were doing this against his car and if he wasn’t holding you, completely supporting you with his body weight, you knew you’d have fallen over by the way he was touching you.

“Fuck,” you moan as you roll your hips against his hand, chasing your high, feeling yourself growing closer but then, Rooster withdrew his fingers altogether, you furrowed your eyebrows and you sighed in frustration as you pushed yourself onto your elbows, wondering where he went.

“What the fu-FUCK,”

That was the only thing you managed to say because Rooster’s face was already buried between your thighs. He pressed his tongue against your core, making you shudder. One of your hands quickly slid up into his golden curls as your head fell back against the bed. His nose pressed into your clit and his tongue teased your entrance and you couldn’t help but curled your fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at his roots, eliciting a groan from him.

And you screamed.

You fucking screamed because there’s no way that he could be that good. His tongue expertly moved against you and you didn’t know if you were just hypersensitive from the earlier assault with his fingers but it felt like heaven as you felt his tongue working you open. You raised your head for a second and even in the dizziness, you watched as his shoulders muscles flexed as he used his strength to push your hips down, preventing you from squirming which only caused you to moan louder, and soon he noticed because those beautiful honey eyes met with yours and you realize how pretty he looks there.

The sight alone made your vision go blurry as you aggressively fucked his face. And he complies, he growled against you and the vibration made you snap, as you fall into the bed. He then guided two fingers inside of you, giving you something to clench around and you began to see white spots on your vision. He continued to hold you down, as he gently sucked on your clit and worked on you with his fingers, your walls clenching around them and you just knew it was right there.

But then he stopped.

“Who said you could stop,” you grumbled, throat sore and raw because of your screams, and Rooster chuckled while he shook his head before he kissed you softly, you could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned at the taste.

“Honey, I want the first time you come to be on my cock,” he muttered against your lips. Your eyes fell on him and you saw how he got rid of every one of the items of clothing he had, he was simply pumping his cock, preparing it for you.

You whimpered at the sight as you struggle to say anything. “Just fuck me,” you breathed, you pleaded. His lips quirked again and soon his cock pushed at your entrance. You gasped against his mouth, digging your fingernails into his back as he stretched you. He was big, he was the biggest you’d ever had and you winced a bit as he fully sank into you.

“You are doing so good, darling,” his voice was gruffer as he kissed your face while you adjusted to his size. You moan loudly, mouth wide open as you gasp for air. Your body adjusts to the feeling of being full; stuffed beyond capacity, beyond everything you thought that it was possible. “You look so pretty like this,”

You were sure that he’d just ruined men for you. He was so good and you just couldn’t understand how tender he could be, he was a true gentleman.

You whimpered under him as he began to move slowly and in one second, when his pelvis rolled forward, your clit managed to rub against the base of his shaft, and your nails dug into him. He growled and you were gone. You began to kiss his neck eagerly as he drove his hips forward, drawing sweet moans from your lips as you arched your chest up against his while your walls clench at the movement, soon he found a steady pace and your skin felt like it was on fire, burning up as if you just entered hell.

But this? This was your heaven.

“Faster,” you cried. “Faster, Rooster,”

He complies with an incoherent noise of vague agreement as he lifted you from the bed and placed you on a desk nearby, things fall over and you were pretty sure something broke but you don’t care because of the way his hips snapped against yours and how he fucked impossibly deeper into you against the mahogany desk.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you, fucking you faster and harder, using all his strength to drive himself into you. He was unrelenting in his pace, rapid calculated thrust as he continued piercing you on his cock and you couldn’t help the tears of pleasure than came from your eyes by the way he moved.

You screamed, you moaned, you whimpered.

You even cried out his name again and didn’t realize it until he kissed your jaw and muttered “I got you darling, cum for me,” he groaned as he pepper your throat with feverishly kisses and you simply pushed your legs apart from him.

Then, the tip of his cock brushed impossibly deeper into you, making you cry and you just knew you were there. You quickly began to kiss him, tongue moving against yours as his hand worked skillfully against your clit, he groaned loudly against your lips as your pussy contracted around his cock, squeezing him for all that he was worth.

Your entire body tensed up. The coil on your stomach snapped and you screamed and Rooster continued to fuck you through your orgasms, before he came undone, pulling you impossibly close against him and continued to drive himself as deep as he could go. Your walls continue to squeeze him, fluttering around his throbbing cock as he stuffed himself into you. You were sure that you heard your name but you were too dizzy to even think about it.

You both stayed there for a moment, panting before he left soft kisses on your neck and chest, holding you until you stopped trembling and he also stopped shaking. It takes you a couple of minutes to actually say anything or even move, the room doesn’t stop spinning immediately but soon Rooster carried you to his bed, still inside of you, and you feel comforted by it, he pushed the hair out of your face, his thumb tender against the side of your cheek.

You closed your eyes and he kisses you until you fall asleep.

You were woken by the sunlight on your face and a buzzing from your phone, it was 6:00 am and you needed to be on the base at 6:30 am.

You stretched your arms and found nothing, the sheets were wrinkled and you could hear Rooster in the other room. You sighed, you realized that you’d broken one of the rules about one-night stands, you slept over. Cursing yourself, you tried to stand up as best as you could but honestly, you weren’t even able to walk completely straight. You brush your hair while looking at yourself in the mirror of the room, hoping that you didn’t look too fucked but it as a lost battle. You did what you could before you focus on retrieving your panties from somewhere in the room, between the discarded clothes that he had left on the room also the items that had fallen from the desk hours before indeed you had broken a glass of water but neither of you seemed too interest in cleaning up.

It took you a few minutes to find your panties but thankfully, you hadn’t removed the dress, so you weren’t completely naked. Nonetheless, you know your purse and your shoes were somewhere in between the entrance of his house and the room, therefore you counted to fifty before you walked out of the room, as nonchalant as you could.

He was in the kitchen, in all of his tanned and ripped glory, only wearing a pair of grey shorts that hang low on his hips. You couldn’t help but smile at the smell of the coffee and even smirk a bit once you see the red marks on his back, neck, and arms. It takes a few minutes for him to notice you but once he does, god, his eyes were practically beaming.

“Morning, y/n,” he said, bringing the cup of coffee to his lips, his eyes looking at you unashamedly.

“Morning, Rooster,” you say as you try your best to walk as straight as possible as you reached for your shoes that were indeed left on the floor, but you notice how his lips are turning up when he realizes that you really can’t walk as usual. “I really have to go for my uniform,” you said sweetly, as you also picked up your purse from the floor.

“I can take you,” he offered with a bright smile and you rolled your eyes, he was indeed a gentleman. “You know, I just had my tongue inside you, you can start calling me by my first name,” he said softly before he winked at you.

And your heart stopped because to the best of your abilities, your mind couldn’t seem to remember his name. You curse mentally as you try to recall the moment that he introduced himself but you can only remember his call sign and his last name. Soon, your cheeks heat up and you were sure that your whole face turned into a splotchy red, not a cute light blush. Under normal circumstances -at least that’s what you’d assumed- since it was a one-night stand you shouldn’t have needed to remember his name, instead you should’ve left in the early hours of the morning without so much as a goodbye.

But now you were here and you could feel his gaze burning you while you tried to avoid his eyes by leaning into the counter.

“Oh my god,” he muttered as he let his coffee mug down.“You don’t remember my name?” he asked, and a hand goes to his uncovered chest with a dramatic gasp.

You couldn’t help yourself, opting for covering your face with your hands. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you felt him walking around the counter, soon his hands rested on the edge of the counter beside your hip, he was pinning you down and you felt shivers as you let your hands fall down. Your breath caught in your throat as you realize how close he was and the way he was looking at you.

You swallowed hard.

“No, don’t worry,” he whispered nonchalantly as he leaned down to your ear after giving you a peck on the corner of your mouth. “It’s Bradley,” he whispered before he started to kneel down in front of you, one of his hands going up your skirt and touching you again. “And after this, I don’t think you’ll be able to forget it,”

And you never did.

***

feedback is always welcomed!!!

donate: help me pls with a glass of wine after such hard core smut?

***

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katsu28 · 1 year

Note

i don't know if you've done this, but a 🍭 “You told me not to worry about them.” with bradley bradshaw maybe??

thank you sm for requesting, my dear ari!! much love for u <3

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x aviator!reader, callsign Casper (like the ghost hehe), some swearing, 1.3k

They were just some harmless pranks; you could handle them. That was what you told Rooster over and over when he found out you were getting hazed by some other pilots in your squadron. It wasn't uncommon for stuff like this to happen to newer pilots, but damnit if he didn't hate seeing it happen to you.

It was what he had to keep reminding himself when you called him at three in the morning one night and asked him to come pick you up from one of the shadiest districts in San Diego. His mind was reeling the whole car ride to you, because you’d sounded so quiet on the phone. Whether it was because you were embarrassed, upset, or even scared, he didn’t know.

“Are you okay?” was his first question as soon as he’d put his car into park and rushed over to you, eyes squinting in the dingy, flickering streetlight to scan your whole body for any sign of injury. You just nodded, and when he seemed certain that there was nothing wrong with you, he frowned. “What the hell is going on? Why are you even out here this time of night?”

“It was nothing, just another stupid prank,” You muttered, drawing your jacket tighter around yourself. Rooster’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Pranks are funny. This? Ditching you alone here of all places, that’s not a prank. That’s risking your life.”

“You say it like I don’t do that for a living everyday.” You were joking, even though right now definitely wasn’t the time to be cracking one.

Rooster’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Casper, okay? I know you wanna fit in and prove that you belong here, which you do, I know you do, but this hazing shit with your squad isn’t okay!”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You set off to the Bronco after that, effectively cutting the conversation short. Rooster was worried, you understood that, but every pilot went through this kind of thing. Making it through the pranks meant that you’d finally be accepted as a real part of your squadron, so you were fine with it. But Rooster had a problem with it, and he wasn’t afraid to tell you. Case in point.

Rooster slid into the driver’s seat a few seconds later, turning to you and opening his mouth like he was going to say something, but decided against it, instead opting to just start driving.

The atmosphere in the car was tense, to say the least. Neither of you wanted to break the charged silence, too headstrong to give in.

Rooster was the first one to break a good while into the drive, voice defeated. “You told me not to worry about them, Y/N.”

Y/N. Not your callsign. That was how you knew he meant business.

“And you still don’t have to, Bradley. I have it under control.” And that was your stubbornness talking. It was one of the qualities you possessed that gave you the grit and determination you needed to make it this far in the game, and you’d be damned if you let a bunch of chauvinistic asses take it away from you.

“If you had it under control, it wouldn’t’ve got this far. I can talk to those assholes, let ‘em know not to mess with you.”

“Oh, and then what? I get let off the hook because my big scary Lieutenant boyfriend said so?” You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “They’re never gonna take me seriously after that. So thank you for picking me up, but just leave it alone, okay?”

“I’m just trying to help you!”

“Help me?” You let out a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get it, do you? However hard it was for you to earn the respect of other pilots, it’s fifty times harder for me. Nobody takes me seriously because of who I am. What I look like. I need to prove that I’m just as tough as they are, and if they think I’m pulling favors from you, I’m right back where I started.”

Rooster hesitated again, taking a second to digest your words. He’d never actually thought of it that way. He was so focused on what he could do to get them to stop that he never considered how that would bode for you. Rooster knew the type of guys your squad members were. Hell, he’d even been that type of guy at one point in his life.

But you were right. If he stepped in, that would only make things even harder than they already were for you. And if they suspected you’d gone running to him to get him to pull his rank, maybe even escalate it further.

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said softly, settling his free hand over your knee. You continued to stare out the window, jaw clenched tight so he wouldn’t see you falter.

He tried again, a different approach this time. “I get it. Finding a good groove with a new team is hard. You just wanna take it, muscle through whatever they throw at you. Show them that you can play with the big boys. But sweetheart, this is getting out of hand. Stupid pranks are fine; I’ve pulled a shit ton back in my day. But when it comes to compromising your safety, that doesn’t fly with me.”

Your breath trembled as you exhaled, and Rooster noticed. He flicked on his blinker, maneuvering off to the side of the street and killing the engine in one smooth motion before swiveling to face you in his seat, one big hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“I was really scared, Bradley,” You admitted, your words nearly a whisper. You leaned into his touch instinctively, fingers curling around his wrist. “I—I didn’t know if I should call you, or just find my way back on my own. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” He cooed, stripping off his seatbelt. You thought he would try to hug you from here, but instead he held up a finger, hopped out of the car and rounded the hood, pulling your door open to gather you in a much better hug than you were expecting. His arms folded around you just right, lips pressing into the top of your head, heart a comforting thud against your ear. “Thank you for calling me. Always call me, no matter what time it is. If I can be there, I’ll be there. And if I can’t, I’ll find a way.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled, voice muffled against the softness of his hoodie.

“Of course.” Rooster sighed, giving you one last good squeeze before holding you at arms length for what he was going to say next. “You’re a good pilot, Casper. I’ve seen you fly, you’re one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah well, you’re biased,” You said lightly, nudging his ribs with your elbow gently.

“I’m not! Professionally speaking, as someone who’s seen dozens of pilots come in with the potential to become something great and fizzle out, I can honestly, truly say that you’re not one of them. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, because you’re just that good.”

“Are you trying to woo me and get me into your bed right now?”

Rooster’s cheeks flushed pink. “No! Well yes, eventually, but—stop distracting me! I mean it, okay? You’re going places. So tell those dickbags to knock it off, because chances are, if you’re as scary as I know you can be,” He earned another jab to the gut for that comment, “they’ll take the hint. Show them you’re not playing their stupid games anymore.”

“I will.” Your fingers loosened their grip around his torso, lips quirking into a soft smile.

“Good. I’m glad. And if they keep being jerks, I’ll gladly be of service.” He shrugged. “As your boyfriend, not Lieutenant Bradshaw. No pulling rank of any kind, I promise.” When you laughed, he straightened proudly, always pleased to be the reason you were happy. Some would even say it was his greatest mission in life. “Stay at my place tonight?”

“Okay.”

“See, now I’m trying to get you into my bed. I think it’s working too. Is it?”

“Definitely.”

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw one shot #rooster bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster bradshaw angst #miles teller #top gun maverick #kait celebrates 1k!

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goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

take a chance on me (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! mother! reader

summary: your daughter stumbles upon a photo of you and a mysterious man, immediately noticing the similarities between him and her. nothing good can come from revisiting the past, especially one you’d hoped to avoid because you’d never gotten the courage to tell him, the man from the photo, that he’s a father.

warnings: major rip-off of the mamma mia! plot but this was purely for enjoyment so xxx; angst angst angst; swearing; allusions to sex; a lot of exposition so sorry ‘bout that

wc: 9.2k+

note: had so much fun messing around with this request (thank you by the way!!). listening to the mamma mia! soundtrack the whole time and now yearning for an island romance<3

ps. reader’s age is slightly hinted to being over 30 but that’s only if you do the math and i left the daughter’s age ambiguous (she’s a teen, over sixteen at least); also, daughter’s name is poppy!

pps. i probably won’t be writing a second part to this because i love the ambiguous ending; let your imagination run free lovelies :))

more of my work x

The summer heat was thick and just about everywhere, like sticky honey you can’t wipe clean off your fingers after spreading it onto a piece of too-burnt toast.

You were on the verge of giving up, trekking back home and collapsing onto the sofa with a stand-up fan aimed at your sweat-slick face.

Maybe the dungarees hadn’t been your best idea when it came to thirty-degree weather, but the utility of them, their pockets filled to the brim with spare screws, a cylinder-shaped glue for the hot glue gun you’d lost in your storage room a week back, a few hair ties for when the one currently holding yours up snapped for the third time that day.

Practicality over comfort, as was your motto for the past over-a-decade of your life. As it had been, since you’d found yourself pregnant after a one-night-stand (turned many, many night-stand) you’d yet to shake yourself free of).

You were never one to ask for help, and when it came to raising your child, things hadn’t changed. No matter how desperate you were, working two jobs on an island you didn’t speak the language of, an infant perched on your hip, whaling in your ears whilst you simultaneously cleaned the rooms of the little bed-and-breakfast you’d landed a job at.

When you weren’t taking care of your kid or working, you were thinking about one of those two things, or both.

And it wasn’t like you hated it entirely; she was the best thing to ever happen to you, could have arrived at a more opportune time, but she was your best friend if you’d ever had one. So saying she was a mistake or something you regretted– it was an unfathomable thought that had only crossed your mind once, sat in the doctor’s waiting room, pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper, clutched tight in your trembling hands.

“Ma’!” she yelled now, your little Poppy with her chocolate-brown curls, sun-kissed skin from all the time spent at the beach. Remarkably like her Father, but you’d never tell her that.

“I’m here, I’m here!” you answered in a similar, exasperated fashion, bent over a crack in the intricately tiled mosaics that covered the floor of the plaza.

You still worked at that bed-and-breakfast, though now it was yours and had expanded to a vast number of the buildings at the centre of the island. Everyone helped out, whether out of kindness or a small fee, and you were grateful for the community, the small army, you had behind you, catching you every time you stumbled (far too often than you’d ever admit).

“Need help?” Poppy asked, amused, hands perched over her white-tiered skirt clad hips, looking like the stubborn replica of her mother, of you. Her head just about obscured the sun from beating down on you anymore than it already was, framing her with a halo of gold that tinted the edges of her hair.

“I’m alright, love,” you assured, heaving yourself straight with a pained groan. Poppy crowded you, arms going around your shoulders to help you up. “Why don’t you go help Esme. She’s in the storage room, looking for the hot glue gun.”

“Still haven’t found that thing?”

“No, I– fuck. Everything disappears around here. Swear we’ve got a ghost or something, the only logical explanation.” Poppy nodded along, taking your finger-pointing at the supernatural with a deathly seriousness.

“Makes sense if you ask me, ghost with a hankering for rusty tools,” she agreed, voice solemn. “Aaaand you’re sure I can’t help you here?” she asked again, murky brown eyes baring right into your soul. You brushed her off, nudging her in the direction of the sweet old lady, Esme, with her wonky English accent and pastries to die for.

“If you see anything you like, put it to the side!” you called after her retreating figure, shaking your head as she chucked a ‘thumbs up’ behind her back.

Not only was she the spitting image of her Father, or rather, the man who got you pregnant as you called him in your head, but she walked and talked with that same air of breezy confidence that got him into your pants in the first place.

You’d hoped a few more of your mannerisms (and none of your risky mistakes) would have brushed off on her as she grew up, but other than your resolute anger and little patience, she was nothing like you.

Always headstrong, sometimes teetering on the precipice of arrogance, but she usually relented and bugged you with her incessant chatter until you forgave her.

Would stare up at you, all watery and doe-eyed, hair curling around her chubby cheeks still splotchy from her tantrum, near ready for tears again until you were shushing her with a carrot stick coated in hummus (her favourite but you worried she’d turn into a chickpea or something close to it).

Even if she was part-chickpea, you’d love her forever.

Named her Poppy after the bunches of wild, scarlet-red flowers you’d seen breaking through the stones of the Acropolis when you were pregnant and needed a break from the island. Your Poppy was a lot like that; able to push past even the most inconceivable of hardships, past whatever unmovable stone that might be surrounding her, threatening to cage her in, until she was illuminating the world around her. Painting it a little brighter for everyone to enjoy.

Your very own field of flowers.

Poppy could admit that even with having grown up on the island, she could never get used to the heat or the muggy feeling of her clothes sticking to her like a second layer of skin. But she persisted, finding Esme with a cloth tied around her head as a make-shift hat in the barn they used for storage.

It was… falling to pieces, and still, that was an understatement.

The blue doors looked more grey than anything ocean-like, the junk crammed inside, stacks on stacks of unlabelled cardboard boxes she worried had a family of something disgusting in at least one of them. The ceiling had caved-in in places, allowing beams of sunlight to penetrate through, and acting as a door for the birds to fly in and build their nests.

So yes, the barn was falling to pieces, the entire hotel was, actually. But what worried her the most was that her Mother seemed close to the same fate despite being so young, so she’d persist where she had to.

“Little girl, come help me with this box would you!” Esme ordered from somewhere within the labyrinth of boxes. Poppy picked her way through, using the groans Esme exerted as a homing-beacon and eventually bumping into the older woman. She was caked in dust and dirt, but didn’t seem to care all that much if the grin on her face was any hint of her mood.

Esme was rather grumpy a lot of the time, so a smile like that, one that screamed mischief, and her eyes beaming with that all-knowing look she got sometimes after visiting the psychic on the other side of the island… Well, something told her this couldn’t be good.

“What’s in this particular box, May?” Poppy questioned, huffing as she pushed it onto the ground.

“You’ll see in a moment–” Esme tssked at her impatience, patting her back so Poppy would move into the light so they could see its contents more clearly. When it was in place, Poppy looked-up at her from her crouched position on the floor expectantly, still unsure of where this was headed.

“Don’t give me such a dumb look, little girl, open it!” she scolded, frowning so deeply Poppy worried her mouth would be stuck that way permanently.

Sometimes she thought it already was. “Okay- Okay– Stop calling me that,” she added under her breath, pulling back the hole-ridden flaps and immediately rummaging through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“This just looks like a bunch of old junk, May. I don’t think the glue-gun is in here.”

“Keep looking,” she insisted, peering over her shoulder. It was only a few minutes later that her hand came down on Poppy’s shoulder, gripping tight enough that Poppy stopped shuffling things around, hand stuck on a tattered journal she’d never seen before. “That one– take that out.”

“This?” Poppy asked inquisitively, lifting it from the box and standing up so Esme could see.

“Yes, this,” she nodded with a relieved sigh, flipping open the first page. Inside, Poppy admired the elegant script, eyes widening at the name inscribed on the first page.

“This was Ma’s?”

Esme held it out to her, confirming her wild thoughts, doing little to halt the curiosity currently poking at her mind. “This was your Mother’s when I first met her. Maybe… younger than you, or the same age, I’m not sure. But she was beautiful, and hardworking, and very, very pregnant.”

A forced laugh stumbled past her lips, disbelieving as she carefully turned to the next page. A stray photo, not stuck down like the others, flew out of the bottom. Poppy scrambled to pick it up, not wanting it to get lost amongst the piles of stuff they desperately needed to sort out.

In it was her Mother, looking radiant with her head tilted back in laughter, flowers in her hair, an arm around her waist that belonged to an unfamiliar man. “And– this guy, who’s he?” Poppy’s heart was hammering now, knowing the answer before Esme could even respond.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. And something about him, the fluidity in his shoulders, the ease with which he carried himself, the look on your face. It couldn’t be…

“I’m not sure. I never knew his name but he was following your Mother around that summer, like a lost puppy. Very cute,” she murmured appreciatively, gaze fixated on the photo in your hand.

Poppy’s heart sank, hating the lack of answers, the not-knowing. She needed to know, could feel the fire stoked in the pit of her belly that would keep her up until she found out more, more, more.

You wouldn’t say anything. You were tightlipped about the ingredients in your famous pasta sauce, so anything about Poppy’s potential Father would be a no-go, a dead end she couldn’t get herself stuck in and clue you in on her snooping.

“What happened to him– the puppy man?” Poppy did nothing to hide her curiosity, knowing deep down that Esme had lured her to this box for a reason.

Everyone could see how you were wearing away, working yourself to the bone everyday for a dream that seemed just about unreachable. You needed someone, anyone, to help you, and Poppy wouldn’t always be there to do just that.

She knew you didn’t need a man, bursting into your life and fixing your problems. It’d have you biting at his heels until he was running off into the sunset. But a partner– a companion, maybe, who could support you when the job was brutal and rough and you were nearing a breakdown like no other– you deserved, at the very least, that.

Poppy would make sure of it. It didn’t take long for her to do the calculations, nine months minus her birthday and she had an approximate date to look for. She thumbed through the journal, marking the pages that mentioned any indication of when you’d written in it, and shoved it into the back pocket of your denim shorts to search through later.

She’d find him if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be, but she needed to see you smiling like you had in that picture. And Poppy had an inkling, a feeling, a certainty like no other, that the answer to all of your problems, maybe her’s as well, would be found with the man with the funny moustache and wicked grin.

The internet was a powerful machine, and one, Poppy thought decidedly, she’d be forever grateful for. It didn’t take long to hunt down the mystery man from the photo. She smiled, somewhat maniacally, really, at the screen as she read through the email she received from the United States Navy.

She’d gotten the idea after noticing the dog-tag around his neck, nestled against his bare chest. It was hard to see at first, what with the obnoxious printed shirts he wore in every photo, but Poppy was nothing if not thorough, meticulous, error-free.

Anyway, it wasn’t like the Navy had actually responded to her far-fetched cries for help, but she did find a help-centre that was rather effective in hunting down men who had gotten someone or the other pregnant while deployed internationally.

Poppy wondered how often this kind-of thing happened that they needed a whole department for it, suddenly trying to burn the image in her mind of a few more miniature him-with-the-moustache-s walking around the Earth.

But it couldn’t be, not with the way he had stared at you in that photo. And you’d kept it, all these years, so it had to have meant something.

Bradley Bradshaw. She scoffed, what a dumb name. And his callsign? Somehow worse– Rooster. She hoped eternally her maybe-Father wasn’t a proper moron now, and could still live upto the photos she had of him (of which she found many more hidden between pages in your journal).

He was quite attractive, almost two decades earlier. And you– well, even today, you were ethereal in Poppy’s eyes. Carefree and determined.

“Pops– hun, I’m going down to the post office, need anything mailed?” you asked from the other side of her bedroom door.

“Yeah! One sec,” she replied, frantically shoving all of the post-it notes and pictures back into a drawer in her desk, doing one last scan of her room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying around before snatching up the letter– to Rooster– from beside her laptop.

Poppy opened the door to see you resting against the door frame, flipping through the letters (bills, probably) you had clutched in your hand. You held out your hand, waiting for her to drop it in your palm, but she quickly yelled out, “No!” which had you looking up from the dreaded envelopes with a raised brow.

“No…?” you asked, confused at her unusual outburst. “So you don’t have any mail?”

“No,” she repeated, dumbly, mouth forming words that never made it out. “No– I have a letter, but I’ll come with you. Drop it off myself,” she explained eventually, nodding along as if she was trying to convince herself.

You relented, sending another curious look towards your daughter but stomping down the stairs, creaks following, to the car. “I’m leaving now so put your shoes on!” you sang.

She sighed out of relief, shoving her feet into her trainers and barreling past you into the front seat of your Jeep. “God, Poppy– what’s gotten into you? Acting like a five-year old, I swear,” you grumbled, irritated and lethargic enough to have her wincing with guilt.

This was a good thing, right? Sure, you’d be angry– scratch that, furious, murderous, down-right irate, when you found out, but you’d understand. She was doing this for you.

“Sorry,” she appeased, kicking her feet onto the dashboard that earned her another withering glare from you. It did little to dissuade her as she continued talking. “Just giddy, that’s all.”

“Giddy? About a letter?” Poppy hummed in agreement, watching the ocean and mountain-side trees rush by, painting an array of abstract strokes across her vision. “Is it for a boy?” you asked, teasingly, side-eyeing her before returning to concentrating on the winding road ahead.

“Mmm, funnily enough, yeah,” she giggled, loving how you were entirely clueless.

“Interesting,” you murmured, then reaching across the console to squeeze your daughter’s bare knee. “Be careful, yeah?”

Poppy’s eyes flashed, chest-clenching painfully as she worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand moved to rest across yours. You’d never opposed her love-life, of her having one, but Poppy had always wondered why your own dating history was so sparse, time spent, instead, taking care of her or, later on, the hotel.

“Always, Ma’, you know that,” she made sure with a tight grin, praying you missed how it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. This was for you.

Poppy was jumpier than usual, like a skittish cat, you observed silently. Slamming doors and screens shut when you walked by. You didn’t necessarily care what she was up to until she was rambling off, a mile a minute, going on about an excuse you hadn’t asked for.

You were a good mother, one that didn’t pry or push when you wanted the gossip and highlights of your kid’s life. Had built a relationship, a friendship, even, with your daughter where she voluntarily shared the information without you ever needing to bat an eyelash.

So you tried not to worry, to let the mishaps distract you from the seemingly never-ending list of work you had tugging your attention elsewhere.

But that was another thing about being a mother; worrying was second nature, a muscle that unknowingly worked itself sore whenever your daughter was out of your sight.

She’d go off during the day, by the beach with her friends, at the dock helping with shipments or sailing into the late afternoon, returning only when the sun was sinking into the horizon and the sky was all shades of purple, pink, a burning orange.

She’d give you a soft, routine kiss on your cheek as you sat on the dinner table, skin sticking to the plastic cover you’d laid on the surface to protect the wood. Spew details of her day, who said what, who kissed who– though always failing to mention the letter from a month ago, the unknown boy she was secretly buzzing about was still unknown.

You hadn’t forgotten the letter, not recognising the address, some small town in America with little significance to you.

Poppy sat across from you now, talking around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d made the both of you with the leftover baguette from the bakery across the street, one that hadn’t sold that day so was priced cheap.

“--and then, you’ll never guess, but Dom was changing on the boat and basically flashed everyone. Tony and Riley included. I felt so bad, almost pushed the boys overboard and she was so red for someone who, basically, never got embarrassed.”

You snorted, stopping mid-bite. “Just because someone doesn’t make their emotions obvious doesn’t mean they don’t feel them. And I hope they’ll apologise to her.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she agreed enthusiastically, eyes wide as if digesting every single one of your words. “And they did right after I threatened them. It wasn’t awkward for long, they’re not a bad bunch or anything. It was an accident, Dom said so herself.”

“That’s good,” was all you answered, now distracted by a letter in your hand you’d pulled from the pile as Poppy talked. She was watching you intently, burning a hole through the paper, and, being her Mother, you already knew she was dying to know who it was from.

“It’s for you,” you said eventually, putting her out of her momentary misery as she squealed and snatched it from your hand. You watched discreetly, touched by the sight of her mouthing the words as she read the letter. “Is it from that American boy of yours?”

“American?– what– I mean, how do you– how do you know he’s American?” she stuttered messily, mouth agape and ready to argue.

You reflexively held up your hands in surrender. “Hey, love– I just saw the sender’s address, that’s all,” you assured.

She collapsed back into her seat, mumbling an apology for getting all worked up.

It was now or never, you decided, finally sick of the anxiety coursing through your veins these past few weeks.

“Poppy, you’re… alright, right?” you asked, struggling to find the right words and sighing, forehead resting against your palm while the other crossed the table, holding your daughter’s hand, grip light and featherlike, in comfort.

“I mean– you’d tell me if you were in any trouble, or anything. I wouldn’t judge or–”

“Ma!” she scolded, sounding appalled by your line of questioning and roughly pulling her hand out of your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Pops. You’ve been going mental for weeks now! I’m allowed to fret, I’m your Mother!” you retorted, standing up abruptly, chair screeching against the linoleum tiles as you dropped the plates into the sink.

“It’s nothing, I swear–”

“Is it drugs?” you asked suddenly, turning around to face her.

She looked completely aghast, arms crossed against her chest defensively and, what was likely subconsciously, pouting at you. “If it’s drugs, Pops, we can get help. I’ve got money saved up and I know a decent doctor on the mainland. I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow if you let me–”

“Ma!” she screeched again, parroting your earlier movements, walking right up to you, holding your shoulders firmly, and shaking as she spoke, or rather, yelled. “I’m not on drugs, don’t be stupid!” You scowled at her, pushing her off of you.

“Then what is it because I’ve been wracking my brain for what could possibly have my child on fucking edge and–”

“I found a journal!” she interrupted, voice loud and exasperated. You whipped around, pinning her down with a stare you’d mastered over the years. She froze on the spot, likely shocked she’d let it slip in the first place.

“You found a– a journal? Where? Who’s?” you asked succinctly, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Uh– it was– Esme, she– it’s her’s, and she wanted me to help her find the name of this guy who’d visited her when she was younger. I reached out and it’s a letter from him, that’s it. I was excited for her,” she explained, but the way her voice wavered made you certain that wasn’t the whole story.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” you reasoned, still unbelieving. It was too convenient of an explanation.

“Because she told me not to! You’re– you’re a bit harsh, sometimes, a bit cynical when it comes to love,” she said, hesitantly, mouth twitching with a smile at how you were now the one pouting. “Anyway, you’re always telling me to butt out of people’s business so I thought it’d be best to just keep it to myself.”

The two of you, mother and daughter, stood in silence for many long minutes, bathed in the nauseating yellow glow of the kitchen lights, flickering bulbs casting ugly shadows across your faces. But it was home, the one one you knew, so you never complained, at least not out loud.

Not when Poppy was around to hear you. “Okay, I believe,” you relented, returning to the dishes, though Poppy nudged you out of the way.

“Why don’t you let me do this, huh? Go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish tidying up.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Poppy was quick to give you a look– the look. Same one you’d mastered after many years of dealing with her fits, and evidently, she seemed to have learnt it as well. You acquiesced reluctantly, hands raised for the second time that night, and fell back, fainted more like, onto the sofa.

Poppy stood, hunched over the sink, and you watched her from your position in the living room.

Something– a nagging feeling you couldn’t quite get rid off– poked at you, at your brain in all of its aching, slimy glory– that the story she fed you was just that– a story, fictional. But you trusted her, unlike some other mother’s who’d lecture you over the cabbages in the market about how you were too lenient with Poppy, how she’ll end up just like you.

You griped internally. She’d be lucky if she turned out anything like you. Your gaze returned to her, shoulders moving as she scrubbed at the dirty dishes.

Okay. Maybe not exactly like you.

He arrived on an assuming Tuesday, a single bag strapped to his back, all brown skin and smouldering looks hidden behind decade-old sunglasses. Poppy couldn’t believe it, not one bit, as she greeted the stranger while working at the pier.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, lips pulled into a frown to hide the urge of flinging herself at him with no explanation at all.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this address–” he fumbled with a piece of paper, pulling it from his back pocket. It was a letter, her letter, and he jabbed at the address, her address, on the front of the creased envelope. “--or if that’s not familiar, Poppy? She said her name was Poppy. Do you know anyone like that around these parts?”

She snorted. What were the chances?

She’d almost bailed on her shift, persuaded by Ben and his pretty smile to sneak out to the hidden beach on a nearby island. You’d managed to coerce him into going another day, mumbling an excuse or two in between kisses as you rushed down to the dock.

And then there he was, looking a lot like the lost puppy Esme had described to you. He still had the same odd facial hair, though it fit him a little better, having aged well.

“Poppy? Yeah, I know her,” Poppy mused, pulling at her bottom lip in faux-thought, eyes darting between the letter and the confused man holding it.

“Right, well–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Can you direct me towards her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded vehemently, hoping he couldn’t see the grin threatening to take over your features.

He sighed defeatedly after waiting for you to continue, and after you failed to expand on the information, he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Okay, thanks for the help”-- sounding not the least bit thankful.

Better put him out of his misery, she thought eagerly, looping an arm around his shoulder, having to lean up on the tips of her toes to reach. “It’s actually you’re lucky day, Bradley–” you began, that same grin winning its battle.

“How do you know–” he cut you off, then stopped himself, pausing as he turned to face you. “Oh…”

“Oh!” she mirrored, though a lot less like she’d had some sort of epiphany. more mocking and exaggerated.

“So you’re Poppy?” he asked, stupidly, bashfully, shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were slightly longer, the strands, than in the photos, but he had that same boyish charm you’d sensed.

“The one and only,” Poppy enthused..

“So you’re–”

“Her daughter? Yeah, that’d be me,” she finished for him, teetering towards something more serious, more solemn, bracing yourself for the moment of realisation as the both of them walked up to the road, identical gaits and hair and noses, where Poppy’s Jeep (or the one she’d borrowed from you) was parked.

It never came.

“And your Dad?”

You choked on a breath that never made it down the right pipe, halting in your steps. “My Dad?” you asked, bemused.

“Yeah– is he around? Would love to meet him, your Mother as well, of course. I was really surprised by the letter but I think–”

“My Dad isn’t around. Never met him,” she explained slowly, frustrated by how he really wasn’t understanding. Had she not been obvious enough?

Shit. Would she give him a fucking heart attack if she told him now?

She looked him over, deciding he wasn’t so old that an unannounced confession would kill him.

“I’m sorry about that, men can be real dickheads,” he stated, as if knowing from experience, not bothering to censor his language, and she liked him just a bit more for it.

He was perfect for you.

Poppy watched, unspeaking, as he settled into the passenger seat, admiring the interior of the car– probably the one thing you owned that wasn’t ripping at the seams. “So, where are we headed?”

“The hotel Ma’ owns, it’s at the–”

“Centre of the island?” he interrupted, staring distantly out at the unwavering landscape.

Bradley-- Rooster let out a shaky breath, one she tried not to notice, understanding that the two of you, meeting after all these years– it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was a significant part of his life he didn’t even know existed, one that came in the form of her.

“You remember,” you pointed out, surprised and sounding more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, I mean– I remember everything. How could I not?” There was something beneath his words, a weight to them that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, foot colliding with the accelerator as they hurried home.

“So you’ll be staying here,” she announced, shoving her shoulder against the barn door and coughing at the dust that attacked her senses once she managed it open. Bradley– or Rooster, as he’d told her to call him– followed close behind, cautious with every step as he took in his dilapidated housing.

“Here?” he questioned out loud, pushing at the bunches of hay lining the floor with the toe of his combat boots. He was sweating like it was no one’s business and Poppy giggled to herself, finding amusement in his unspoken disgust.

“Yeah, here. The hotel’s all booked up–” a lie, she just couldn’t have you stumbling upon him before she’d planned how it’ll all go down. “So this was all we had left. I’ll find a spare mattress for you, and the bakery across the road– owned by a sweet, old lady–” another lie, it was Esme and there was nothing sweet about her. “--who can help you with showering, food, all the necessities.”

He stared intensely as she spoke, as if not really listening to a word she was saying.

“What is it?” she asked eventually, breaking free from his gaze as she busied herself, distracted herself, with collecting the boxes into a corner, out of the way to allow him some more room.

Rooster shook his head, convincing himself to look elsewhere, and smoothed his hair back.

“Nothing, sorry. You just– you’re so much like your Mother. It’s crazy, really.” She beamed at him, suddenly sitting on the floor opposite, and he joined her amongst the dust and hay.

“Really? You think so?” He nodded, laughing at her eagerness. “She said once, I don’t think she knew I was awake and I was really young, or younger,” she amended then continued. “She said I reminded her of my Dad, but I couldn’t ever tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Can’t say I knew him either–” Brilliant, it was all just brilliant. “--but you’re as… fiery, I guess would be an appropriate word, as she was.”

“And what was she like?”

He was ready to answer, not needing even a moment to think his response through, but your voice from outside the barn had Poppy’s eyes widening with fear, heart sinking low in your chest.

“Poppy! You in here?” You struggled with the door, pushing all of your weight into the crumbling wood.

“Fuck–” she cursed. “You need to– you need to hide, like– now.” He watched, perplexed, opening his mouth to question the sudden turn in events but she held up a finger, shushing him like he was a child and not her Father-who-didn’t-know-it.

“I’ll explain later just– please,” you begged quietly, urging him deeper in between the organised junk and out of sight.

She inhaled, exhaled, steadying her thrumming heartbeat. “Ma’! Y-yeah, I’m here, one second.”

Poppy pulled on the handle, hauling it open but the circular, metal ring broke-free from the door.

“Another thing to fix, I guess,” you noted, nodding at the rusted metal in her hand. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked, as if only now aware of where the both of you were.

“Here? I’m just– glue gun, yanno. Esme still couldn’t find it so I thought I'd try again.”

“Alright you flaky weirdo. I swear, you wouldn’t even need drugs to act all high and jittery, manage it just fine all by yourself,” you mumbled, dismissively pushing past her and heading straight towards the area Poppy had, moments earlier, shoo-ed Rooster towards.

“You can't go there!” she burst out, holding out a hand in front of you that you glowered at.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” you asked, voice tight and ready to pull the Mother card you never really enjoyed playing. You’d earned it, sure, but it was a little demeaning considering how old your daughter now was.

“Because– Because–”

Shuffling footsteps alerted your attention towards the disarray, squinting between the piles, searching for where the noise originated from. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes! There is!” Poppy admitted, and your stare returned to her. She could see, right past your head, where Rooster was stepping into the light, assuming she was about to explain his presence, but she shook her head imperceptibly– not yet, go back, go back

You stared expectantly, waiting for a response. “It’s Ben,” she blurted, not sure, even herself, where she was headed. “And he’s– well, you see– he’s naked. Yeah, we were about to have sex and you walked in and he’s all embarassed.”

You sputtered, all but sprinting towards the door and unable to look behind you so you missed how Poppy relaxed minutely. “Oh– wow, okay. Just– that’s not what I was expecting,” you stuttered, palm shielding your eyes. “I mean, firstly– not here, gross, that sounds unbelievably unhygienic. And secondly– use protection.”

You didn’t stay any longer, escaping to the outside, and Rooster appeared beside Poppy almost immediately.

She turned, ready to barrage him with excuses and explanations she hadn’t thought of yet. “I’m so sorry, she’s–!”

“She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?” he asked, though he didn’t need you to respond to know the answer.

He groaned into his hands, bending at the hip and breathing raggedly. “Okay, so– I’m gonna go before she does find out. It was nice meeting you Poppy,” he said, all in one go with no room for you to interrupt.

“No you can’t– she’s just–”

“No, I really, really need to leave,” he bit out, not facing her as he strapped his bag to his back.

“If you just give her time–”

“You don’t understand!” he exploded, eyes fluttering shut as he visibly attempted to calm himself. “The last time she saw me– it wasn’t– it wasn’t good. And I left the next day, without a word of apology or justification or–” Rooster sighed as if he’d had this argument with himself countless times before. “--so no, I can’t imagine she’ll ever come around.”

He stopped at the boundary of the door, calling behind him. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Then he left, again.

At least he apologised this time, she thought bitterly.

You were stepping down from the hardware store, or hole in the wall, really, when you saw him.

A flash of saturated colour, mind-numbing prints, and broad shoulders. You gasped, frantically searching around yourself as if questioning if anyone else had seen a ghost from their own past.

No. They seemed to be going about their day as usual– Johnny sweeping at the cobblestone directly in front of his store, Mia laying fresh fish on ice, ready to be sold, her six-year old daughter tugging on the bottom of her dress with tears in her eyes.

No one was phased, except you. You looked back to where you’d seen him, but he wasn’t there anymore, only an empty street corner with nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

What the-- You rushed forward, intent on finding out the truth as your boots slapped loudly against the pavement, dodging busy workers and locals, all, now, staring at your wild movements.

“Child– where are you in such a hurry to?” Esme yelled, head poking through her bakery window with a scowl at the abrasive noise you were making in your pursuit.

“I’ll explain later, May!” you hurtled back, not stopping despite the burning in your legs, your chest.

Still, you carried on, making it all the way to the edge of the city centre, rushing to a stop as you stared across the abandoned gravel road. There was no one there except you, and you panted, exhausted and head-pounding, as you scolded yourself for such a stupid daydream. The heat had never gotten to you like this before.

It felt so real, him.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, cautiously, from behind you. Your eyes closed, hands clenched at your side, before you turned to face the tentative owner.

“Hey yourself,” you answered, surprising yourself at how civilised and steady your voice sounded to your own ears.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. It was real after all.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying towards you and letting his bag drop to the ground between the two of you, pulling out a water bottle and holding it out in front of you. A peace offering of sorts.

You only stared at it, like it’d bite you if you got any closer. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

The endearment had you flashing your eyes at him, fire or rage or something somehow hotter– the sun had nothing on you in that moment, but he stumbled back, remembering himself.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded between gritted teeth, chin turned up at him.

“Sightseeing,” he said simply with that reaching grin that had you melting years earlier.

You scoffed impatiently. Poppy really had gotten her knack for lying, or royally sucking at it, from him.

“That’s bullshit. Why are you really here?”

There must have been an edge to your voice that had him spilling the truth, because you were stunned when he explained.

“Poppy– you met Poppy?” you asked, forcibly nonchalant, arms no longer dangling stupidly at your side but rather picking at the straps of your dungarees, loose threading growing longer as you pulled at them.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said, nothing giving away– not in his words, his body language, the look on his face– that he knew. Knew she was his.

He sat on the edge of the pavement, right by your feet, and patted the burning space next to him. You blew at a strand of hair tickling your nose, hating how you listened, even then, and sat right next to him, shoulders brushing the slightest bit and you were scampering to put some more distance between the two of you.

He smirked, quiet, leaning his arms on his bent knees, and his head on top, turned towards you as he watched you fight yourself.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, waiting, patient, all things you could never be.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled dryly, accidentally meeting his eyes, Rooster’s smirk deepened, before darting away. “You?”

The mid-afternoon heat bared down on the both of you, colouring your shoulders darker and doing nothing to help the heavy thumping against your skull, like a jackhammer or a fucking normal hammer– whatever. It just hurt bad.

Rooster noticed, silently offering his water to you again which you reluctantly snatched from him, gulping almost half of it down before he decided it was safe to speak.

“Still get migraines from the heat?” he asked, though it was more an observation than a question. You nodded, placing the now-empty bottle between your feet.

“I’m fine, as well. After I left–” you visibly winced, glaring against the rays of the sun as you willed yourself to look anywhere but at him, not when the tips of your ears were burning, ringing, making you dizzy and woozy and about ready to throw up all over your worn boots.

“--I went back to training and was then deployed overseas for a long time. Been training new recruits for the past few years now. It’s–” he stopped, glancing at you momentarily, but decided to continue. “--it’s nice. Feels like I’m moulding them to be better versions than me because I sure wasn’t picture perfect by any means.”

“No, you really weren’t–aren’t–” you agreed, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know I never said sorry, and it seems pointless now but–”

“Bradley,” you said his name and his heart stopped. He was dead and even though it was you that had killed him, right there with your voice alone, it was also only you that could bring him back to life. “I really don’t want to hear this,” you begged, and you never begged– never.

What had he done to you?

“Please, sweetheart–” Again with the nickname. You bristled beside him, standing up all of a sudden as if you were about to run in the opposite direction of his familiar ruggedness. “I need you to hear this, just a second–”

“No– you don’t,” you growled out of frustration, tugging your hair free and pressing your fingertips into your skull, anything to soothe the ache growing there. “--you don’t get to need anything, you, you– fucking prick!”

He said nothing, baffled, shocked, certain nothing he said now would make this situation any better. It was downhill from here.

“You said you loved me– promised me the fucking world and a ring and a life together, and the next morning, you left! You fucking– you left!” You were yelling now, unafraid, unabashed, uncaring if anyone could hear. They couldn’t, and if they could, they wouldn’t clue you in that they were.

The people of this town loved to know the darkest, most confidential secrets of its inhabitants, all without ever showing their face. This wasn’t any different.

“I had to!” he insisted aggressively, pushing off the rubble and invading your personal space, leading you back, back, back– until you hit a wall. You held him at arm's length, hand pressed against his hard chest, holding him there.

If he got any closer– well, if the past was anything to go by, you wouldn’t remember to stay mad long.

“I had to!” Rooster repeated, desperately. You said nothing, so he went on. “I got a letter– they needed me back, I can’t– I can’t tell you why–” You sneered, typical. “--but, I was going to come back. I swear it.”

His breathing was loud, dense in your buzzing ears. It’s just words, nothing but words– you repeated to yourself, over and over again. Bradley stepped back, giving you space and himself, as well. But his despairing stare– it pierced something inside you, something you hadn’t thought was still there.

“I wrote letters,” he stated.

“I know, I got them,” you retorted acridly, slumping into the wall for support.

“You never responded.” Again, stating facts.

“I was busy.” Being pregnant.

He nodded, unable or unwilling, you weren’t sure, to argue. An emptiness stretched between you and him, the kind you don’t think any words, half-hearted i’m sorrys, or passionate confessions could ever fill.

He bent to pick up his backpack. “Is there anything, and I mean anything, I could say to make you forgive me,” he asked, voice dejected and the rest of him following suit.

You shook your head, words failing you.

Rooster, Bradley– he turned to leave, accepting defeat, and something roared in your chest, urging, begging, pleading for you to stop him.

You don’t know why you did it, or how you thought it would ever be even a half-decent idea, but it spilled past your lips before you knew what you were saying, confessing, like a foot jamming between a door, forcing it open for someone, anyone.

Bradley.

“Poppy,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t face you. “Poppy. She’s– she’s yours.”

His bag– the poor thing had been rattled all day– fell off his shoulder, and he spun, in slow motion, questions discernible on his face but struggling to make it out of his mouth. “How– We didn’t– I used–”

“What’s that thing they say– ninety-nine percent effective.” You shrugged blandly. “Guess we were the one percent.

It was strange having a man in the house, but there he was– Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster, sat right at your kitchen table looking a lot like a man you’d once loved but hoped to forget.

There’s this story you loved to tell Poppy when she was young, dealing with the realities of bullies and snarky kids with nothing else to do but poke fun at her absent Father and questionable living circumstances. It was ironic, really, because it wasn’t like they were exactly well off, but kids were mean and you were sick of seeing your daughter upset everyday when there was nothing you could do.

So you told her the story of Pandora’s Box, or Jar, actually, as she corrected you, having read about it in the library but still entirely enchanted by your way of storytelling. It was like letting her in on a secret only grown-ups knew and Poppy was downright bewitched to be a part of the club.

It was never the whole let-out-everything-awful-and-wrong-with-the-world part of the story that was your motivation for telling it, or her love for hearing it, but rather, the ending.

After all the evil, poverty, greed and general nasties had escaped, tainting the world and the humans that inhabited it– out came hope, fluttering on its weak wings but beautiful all the same.

At the time, you’d believed hope to be this beacon of light, something to keep you going when nothing else could, when the bullies had you down bad.

Now, however, you saw hope as a cruel joke.

That after all of this negativity that had made mankind wrought with sin and selfishness, hope lingers about for no reason other than to yank your chain, keep the wheel of capitalism turning, the public nothing but a lot of pigs with hope dangled in front of them like an out-of-reach carrot.

You’d admit it’s a pessimistic take on the story, but it wasn’t long after Poppy was born that you realised hope was a sweet lie fed to the ignorant.

The proof of it sat right in front of you, looking exactly the same except for the way in which his hair tickled the tops of his ears, having grown out from his previous military-ordered buzzcut.

“Can I get you something? Tea? Water?” you asked, words maddeningly courteous as you yanked the fridge door open, searching for something to offer your guest.

He hadn’t said a word since you’d blurted it out an hour ago, instead, guiding him back into town, to your house, Poppy nowhere insight (likely hiding out until she’s certain you’ve cooled down, though unluckily for her, the very sight of her would have you revved up and raging whenever she dared make an appearance).

Rooster stared at a single tile on the opposite end of the kitchen, fixated and motionless like a statue and nothing like the passionate, begging man from earlier.

“Helllooo?” you asked again, waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him from whatever trance he’d been under. He blinked at you, face blank enough to unnerve you. He should’ve said something by now, right?

“Water would be good, thank you,” he answered eventually, hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years. You nodded, pulling a glass from the cabinet and letting the sink run into it before placing it on the plastic-topped table in front of him.

You sat down on the only other usable chair that happened to be right next to him, the other two with the unstable legs and missing backrests having only been kept to make your kitchen look a little less incomplete.

You both sat in silence, one that seemed just about never ending and had you gnawing on your lips and nails like a mad man. He looked over at you, noting your anxious state, and pulling your hand away from your mouth. It was infuriating, the way he acted like no time had passed.

Well it had if your daughter was any indication. A whole lifetime had come and gone, for you, at least, and he couldn’t ignore it away, not like the rest of his problems or like he’d done with you. You were about to say as much, going off like you’d been itching to since you’d set sights on him, but he beat you to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you didn’t need to see him to hear the distress in his voice, and beneath that, a restrained sort of anger.

“I had nothing to tell,” was all you offered him, and his gaze snapped to you in the blink of an eye, his temper apparent on his features as that one vein at the top of his forehead stood proud, face going scarlet as he held himself back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spit out, unbelieving. “Nothing to tell?” he repeated. “I have a daughter, for Christ’s sake! One I would’ve loved to know about if you’d done me the courtesy of actually letting me in!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, fingers twitching. “What? Like you were any better when you up and left?”

He was shaking his head at you, unwilling to hear anything you were saying, and you were no different. “It’s not the same fucking thing, you know that. I had to leave. It’s my job, my duty, to my country and to–”

“Well what about me, huh?” you bellowed, reaching decibels you didn’t think were physically possible. Yet there you were, defying all odds. “What about your duty to me? To us? You promised–”

“I know what I promised you, but how could I give you anything– a life, a home, a family, a future– if I was broke and unemployed. Money doesn’t grow on trees, sweetheart, not here in the real world.”

You couldn’t take it, exploding out of your chair. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, what you’d been through, what you’d fought past. But he followed close behind, grabbed you by your wrist until you had no choice but to face him.

Rooster’s breaths escaped him in hard bursts, and you looked no better with the flush creeping up your neck and the scowl permanently etched to your face.

“That’s pure coming from you, the same man who was throwing away his life to join the army, giving up a paying job, all because his ego wouldn’t let him work for his Dad.”

Bradley recoiled like you’d slapped him.

“You weren’t around to see me working two, sometimes three if I could manage it, jobs– for years, Bradley, years. It was hard, so fucking hard, but I did it because I had someone dependant on me. I wasn’t alone, living like some unattached bachelor. I worked myself to the bone for her– for Poppy.” You were close to sobbing by then, the weight of it all finally registering. “Because if I didn’t, no one would.”

He looked like he wanted to argue more but thought better of it in the end, letting go of his hold on you and moving to lean his forehead against the wall in the living room. You watched, not wanting to move lest he remember you’re still there and end up going for a second round. You couldn’t, yearning for respite of any kind.

And his head turned from where he was, catching the chest of drawers nestled in front of the window with photos of you and Poppy adorning every inch of its surface. He walked over, wordless.

You joined him where he stood, hand brushing against his, by accident, you’d tell yourself later, but when you tried to move away, he slipped his fingers through yours, squeezing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though there was no one else to hear it, no one but you.

You nodded, accepting his apology, then realising he wasn’t looking at you, you said, “Me too. I’m sorry.”

He reached forward, picking up a photo of Poppy at age two, hair in pigtails, chubby knees covered in sand at the beach. It was the first time she’d gone into the water and you wanted to live in that moment forever, freeze it and hold it close to your chest. It had seemed like the biggest milestone at the time, and you remember wishing he was there to treasure it as well.

“I know why you did it,” he admitted, and you faltered from where you stood. “And I’m not going to stand her and pretend like I would have dropped everything, put everything on pause, for the two of you. I can’t guarantee that, knowing who I was back then.” You inhaled shakily, eyes glassy from barely-held-back tears.

Bradley turned to you abruptly, hand sliding out of yours to hold your face instead, close and intimate. Like nothing had changed.

You didn’t fight it, savouring the feeling of being held, of relinquishing control to someone else, if only for a second. “But that’s not who I am anymore. I don’t care about what happened and what didn’t. I’m here now, and, if you’d let me, I’d like to stay. Learn a little more about you, and about– about Poppy, as well.”

You searched his face for any hint of a lie, that innate urge to protect your child at all cost threatening to label Bradley’s confession as pretence. It’d be easier if it was, you thought, if things weren’t so complicated and you could just say no.

But no matter how hard you looked, how long as well, you found nothing, only love and a sincerity you couldn’t possibly fault, even if you were still broken and bruised from years of delayed burn-out.

So you did the only reasonable thing one could do. You nodded, complimenting it with a watery smile he chuckled lowly at.

“Yeah? Gonna take a chance on me, sweetheart?” he asked, needing confirmation but unable to hide his budding rapture.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay, okay. I think– maybe, we can work something out.”

He grinned and fuck– was he a vision. No matter how you framed the past, it was all going to be both of yours’ fault for what happened, and how it did. His for leaving and yours for keeping the child you shared a secret.

And it wasn’t like the road ahead was going to be at all easy, you’d accepted your fate already. But maybe, and you might have been overstepping or consumed by an unexpected wave of euphoria that impaired your judgement– but maybe a family was worth fighting for.

After all, the best things in life, the things truly worth having and celebrating, were never meant to be easily acquired, otherwise you’d just take them for granted.

You didn’t take this for granted, and you didn’t let the hassle deter you.

For the first time in a long time, you had hope, and there was nothing cruel or funny about it.

Hope you enjoyed this <3 Reblogs & Comments are love love loved!

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

Text

Fight Through the Pain (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader

Word Count: 1335

TW: Angst, Whump, Plane Crash, Burns, Injuries, Pain, Love Confession

Spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick

Part 1, Part 2

Top Gun Masterlist

Everything hurt. Your world was currently nothing more than pain on top of more pain as every bone, every muscle, every molecule in your body screamed out. Large sections of your skin felt as if it was on fire while other parts felt like it was frozen solid. As you tried shifting slightly, a low moan reverberated in your chest as the pain intensified. But the attempt did provide you with some information. It made you realize that the coldness seeping into you was from the snow you were laying on. But why were you laying in the snow?

And then it came rushing back to you. The team had been sent on their mission to blow up the uranium enrichment plant. At the last minute, it was decided one additional single-person plane should accompany the group, and much to Hangman’s chagrin, you had been selected. As everyone was saying their goodbyes and good lucks, Rooster had pulled you into a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than you expected. And when you finally pulled away, he had stared at you with such an intense look on his face that it sent shivers down your spine in the best way. It finally gave you the courage you had been needing to tell him how you felt about him, yet just as you opened your mouth, Maverick had interrupted you. So instead of telling him, you had hurried off to your plane.

The mission had gone perfectly…. Up until your planes escaped Coffin Corner and activated the SAMs. The Surface-to-Air Missiles had quickly filled the sky and as much as you all tried to react, there were just too many of them. As you had done your own evasive maneuvers to avoid disaster, you watched Rooster fire countermeasure after countermeasure from his position above you, narrowly escaping the missiles. But then his panicked voice cried out through your coms that he was out of flares, and you watched in horror as two more missiles trailed behind him.

You hadn’t thought, you had just acted. Instantly pulling up into a steep climb, you positioned your plane directly between Rooster’s and the missiles. Across the expanse between you, you had managed to catch Rooster’s eye for just a moment. His face drained of all color, and you saw him shouting at you to get out of the way. But you had just given him a sad smile as the missile slammed into the tail of your aircraft, sending a fireball roaring through the cockpit.

You screamed in pain as your hand had yanked the ejection lever, but it was too late. Even as your seat jettisoned into the sky, you could feel the burns scorching your skin in a dozen different places. Then as you drifted to the ground, your parachute had gotten snagged on a tree, slamming you into the trunk and causing you to plummet the other 50 ft to the ground. As you crashed into the snow below, you had mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.

But now, something stirred you from your sleep, something other than just the pain. Voices. Slowly, you realized that your helmet was still on, and you could still make out your teammates' voices as they tried to reach you on the coms.

“Bumblebee! Do you copy?” Phoenix’s frantic voice came into focus. “Bob, do you see anything?”

“That’s a negative,” her WSO replied, equally as panicked. “I can see the smoke from her plane where it crashed, but I lost sight of the parachute.”

“I saw it for a minute, but it was smoking pretty heavily.” Fanboy chimed in anxiously. “I don’t know…. I don’t know if it would have been able to remain intact until she reached the ground.”

“Bee! Answer me! Please!” Rooster. You struggled to open your eyes at the sound of his voice. Maybe it was the distortion from the coms or your pain-addled brain, but it almost sounded like he was crying. But that couldn’t be….

“Bumblebee!” he screamed again. “Damn it! Why did you do that! Why did you- I’m not worth it. You shouldn’t have done that. Not for me. Please, Bee. You have to be okay.”

“Rooster,” Phoenix said softly. “It’s not your fault. She was just protecting her wingman.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have! It should have been me down there instead of her. We need to find her!”

Maverick’s voice suddenly broke through the chatter. “There’s nothing we can do right now. Without her location beacon turned on, we have no way of finding her. We need to get back to the ship and we can try to figure out something after that. But for now…. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Rooster screamed again. “I’m not leaving her! Bee! Listen, you need to turn on your beacon. Please! I promise I’ll find you, but you have to give me something.”

“Rooster-” Maverick started but the younger pilot cut him off.

“No! She’s still out there, I know it! And she would never leave any of us behind! So, please, Bee. Come on, you can do this. Just turn on the beacon.”

Both of your hands were currently laying by your sides and the locator beacon was on your shoulder. The amount of pain that was shooting through your body just with every breath was almost unbearable, so the thought of trying to move, to cross that impossible distance to reach the beacon, was almost inconceivable! But you knew you had to try. If not for you, for Rooster. You might have saved his life, but if you died, you knew he would blame himself and it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

So, ever so slowly, inch by agonizing inch, your hand began its vast journey up towards your shoulder. Even the smallest of movements was torture, and you were fairly certain that your arm was broken in at least one place. But Rooster’s pleas and cries still sounding through the coms urged you on.

When your fingers miraculously brushed against the dial of your beacon, you realized you were in for a new level of pain. In order to turn the beacon on, you had to twist the dial. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem but because of the fire, your fingers were pretty badly burnt, and your joints were swollen. It was going to take everything in you to turn that dial and you just didn’t think you had the strength left to withstand that level of pain.

But then, Rooster’s voice called out to you one more time, calmer yet more tender than before, “Bumblebee…. Please. I know you’re there, I know you can hear me. Please, come back to me. I-I love you.”

He loves me? You had been in love with your wingman for years, starting back when you had first been at Top Gun together, but you never thought he could return your feelings. It was why you had chickened out on the tarmac from confessing how you felt. But if Rooster loved you back….

It was just the motivation you needed. Taking a few deep breaths (and ignoring the spikes of pain that were sent through your chest with each one), you screwed your eyes closed and twisted the dial.

The surge of pain that followed traveled down to your very bones. Every nerve ending and muscle in your fingers and up through your arm screamed out in agony, but you heard a faint beep as the beacon activated. At the sound of your success, you allowed yourself to drop your arm once more as the pain became too much for you to bear.

As your world started to grow dark around you, you could faintly hear a voice that sounded like it was coming from the end of a far-off tunnel, “Bee?! Guys, I have her signal! Bee, just hang on. I’m coming for you, baby.”

And just as you slipped back into unconsciousness, you managed to whisper a single word, “Rooster…..”

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bloatedandalone04 · 7 months

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Love in the Dark

➪the one where the deployments become too much.

Warnings: swearing, angst, sad boy bradley, lowkey depressed reader, more angst bc im sick and unhappy about it, also new theme bc why n o t

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ Thank you for 3.4k followers mwah

You couldn’t bring yourself to think about the very real fact that you had spent more time alone this year than with your fiancé, who is going into his fourth month of deployment. It was nearing the end of September, and you had done pretty much all the planning for the wedding yourself, despite Bradley desperately wanting to do it with you.

You offered to wait for him, but he assured you that whatever you came up with would be more than enough and that he would be all on board for planning the honeymoon afterwards. Really, you couldn’t hold off on planning for too long since time wasn’t slowing down, and you needed to get a move on.

A date set for the end of the year was planned, and Bradley would be back from this deployment weeks before the big day, but it was still hard to look forward to it when you had been by yourself for most of the preparation time.

This time he was going to be away from the ending of May to the beginning of November, his longest deployment by far during the four years you’ve been together. It truly didn’t get easier.

In fact, it only got harder. He had been deployed earlier in the year, and though that one was only a few weeks, you were still on your own.

And you would still be on your own, even a few weeks before you were set to wed. You wished it was, but having Bradley return just in time for the wedding really wasn’t enough.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a guy in the navy, but you weren’t aware of just how hard it would be. All his other deployments were bad enough, but having him thousands of miles away from you for half a year wasn’t easy.

You wanted to marry him, with every fiber of your being, but you also knew you couldn’t take much more. Falling hopelessly in love with an aviator was one of the best things to ever happen to you, but it was also one of the hardest.

Which is why you had begun pushing aside the planning of your wedding, and started to pack things away. Slowly, your shared room held more of his things than your own, with your pictures, posters, trinkets and books all stuffed away in one of the many cardboard boxes you had reluctantly bought about six weeks into Bradley’s current deployment.

You didn’t think you could actually bring yourself to pack them, but nearly two months later there were boxes scattered around your house. It looked like you were moving in, with Bradley’s few possessions not doing much to give the place a personality.

He was a minimalistic kind of guy, so he really didn’t have much, but yours and his things fit together, made the house feel lived in. Take away half of that, and it felt empty. It looked empty, and you hated to think that this is what he would be returning to.

You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, so you weren’t able to confide in him and revel in the way he was always able to comfort you, even when he was so far away. Sending emails wasn’t enough, and you hated sending them, so you didn’t bother with that - with the exception of one that simply read ‘I miss you so much it hurts’.

It was a harsh jab, but it was just how you felt.

He got back to you a few days later with a reply that said ‘I miss you, too. It’s so hard to be away from you. I think I’ll be able to facetime in a couple weeks, I can’t wait to see you, pretty girl’.

It had been enough to have you push away the boxes, but you still ended up packing them when a couple weeks turned into a month.

You were rummaging around in the cupboard that held all your mugs when you heard your phone go off from where you placed it on charge in the bedroom. Pulling it from the cord, you swipe on the answer button and watch as the screen buffers for a second before you are met with the face of your fiancé. “Baby,” he rasped, a grin breaking out on his lips when he met your eyes through the screen.

You force out a smile, hating the fact that the sight of him didn’t help the constant ache you felt in your heart. “Hi,” was all you managed to say, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to sound excited.

“Hi,” he said back, never taking his eyes off you. “You look so beautiful. I miss you so much.”

Giving him a tight smile, you nod, glancing up at the wall in front of you instead of looking at him. “I miss you, too,” it was so quiet, you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

He must’ve, as he called your name in an attempt to get you to look at him. “What’s wrong?” He asked when he saw the tears that had gathered in your eyes.

You knew this wasn’t fair to him, he had limited time to talk and you couldn’t even look at him for more than three seconds before you were breaking eye contact once more. “I just….” You trail off, sniffling quietly and taking a deep breath. “It’s hard not seeing you everyday. I’m almost done with the wedding planning, but I don’t know if-” You cut yourself off before you could confess what you had actually been up to.

Bradley gave you an uneasy look. “Y/n, can you look at me? Please?” he called quietly, his heart skipping a beat when your teary eyes found his. “It’s hard not seeing you, baby. I miss everything about you. But we’re over halfway through this now, only just over a month left before I’m back. And then we’ll be getting married a few weeks after that.” He tried to cheer you up, but it clearly wasn’t working as you just cried a bit harder.

“It hurts, Bradley,” you confess, watching the way he furrowed his brows. “I hate sleeping alone in our bed, I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the last two months because I can’t stand being in our room without you there. It sucks waking up alone and having to live in this house by myself. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He shook his head quickly, sitting up a bit straighter as he moved closer to the screen. “I know it’s hard, I…Why haven’t you told me you were sleeping on the couch? I hate thinking that you’re all by yourself there, baby, and it kills me to know you can’t sleep in our own bed anymore,”

“It’s humiliating, Bradley,” you mumble, wiping your face with both hands, not realizing what you had just shown him. “I don’t want you worrying about me, I-”

“Y/n,” he cut you off, his voice shaky as his whole body went stiff. You look at him, biting down on your lip as you wait for him to continue. “Baby, where’s your ring?”

You part your lips in shock, glancing down at your bare finger. “It’s, um,” you try to explain the absence of the ring he had given you at the end of last year. You could say you were cleaning earlier and took it off, but that would be a lie. You could say it was away getting cleaned, but that would be a lie, too. Really, you took it off because you wouldn’t be marrying him once he returned back home. You wouldn’t even be in this house. “It’s on the dresser.”

Bradley felt his face heat up. “Why?” When you didn’t answer him, he started to panic as he knew where this was going. But he couldn’t let it get there, he wouldn’t. “Y/n, don’t do this.”

You stifle a cry and hide your face in your hands, further breaking his heart as he watched you sob on his side of the bed. It was then when he realized that your picture frames you had put up on the wall beside the bed were no longer there.

Tears burned his own eyes as it all set in. You had started taking down things from the walls, you took off your ring, you couldn’t even look at him. You were leaving him, and he wasn’t even there to fight for the best relationship he had ever been in. “Baby, please,” he begged, his voice sounding a bit strained as he ignored the look he got from the aviator next to him. “Please, don’t do this.”

Now you had gone completely silent, and you still couldn’t fucking look at him.

“Y/n,” he said, trying to sound stern but he knew he just sounded pathetic. “Please, just, wait for me. Just over a month left and then I’ll be back there with you and we’ll get married and I’ll take time off so we can be together.”

“I am waiting,” you mutter. “I’ve been waiting, Bradley. For four months, I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he repressed a cry and wished you would just look at him instead of whatever the fuck had captured your attention beyond the screen. “I’m coming home, okay? I’m coming back to you, to us. Please, let me fix this. I can fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” you shrugged sadly, finally looking at him. “I love you more than anything, but you can’t fix this. This is all on me. I thought I could do this, but all this waiting around for you feels like it’ll kill me. Bradley, I’ve never felt this alone in my entire life.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please, don’t say that to me. Please, baby, let’s just talk about this when I get back. Just stop packing and put your ring back on and wait for me. You’re breaking my heart here.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, wiping under your eyes and accidentally showing him your ringless finger again. It was a sight he never wanted to see again after he proposed, and he was sure he never would when you said yes. “I can’t.”

“Fuck, Y/n,” he cursed under his breath, blinking away the tears that gathered on his waterline. “Please, stay with me, okay? I know it’s hard, it’s fucking hard for me, too. It kills me to know that you’ve been thinking about all this since I’ve been away, but we’re good together. What we have is good and it works and…fuck, baby, we’re supposed to be getting married.”

His voice broke at the end and you immediately started crying again. “I want to marry you so badly, Bradley,”

He knew he was reaching at this point, but that single sentence had his heart beating with the smallest fraction of hope. “So we’ll get married at the end of the year like we planned,” he pleaded. “Please, say you’ll wait for me. We’ll figure all this out together, not like this.”

You went quiet again, and Bradley foolishly thought that meant you had decided to stay and wait out another month or so. At this point, he was prepared to retire early if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life with you. But then you shattered his heart with your next words, “I’m moving out, Bradley,” you informed him quietly. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Baby, please-”

“I can’t look at your things anymore and I can’t wait for you to get the chance to call me every couple of months,”

“Y/n, please,” he desperately tried to get you to listen to him, but he was being informed that he was almost out of time, and he hated just how literal that statement was at the moment. “I love you, okay? I love you so much and I need you. I need you to be there when I get back, I need you to promise me you’ll put your ring back on and you’ll marry me in December-”

“Bradley,” you cut him off, watching as someone began tugging on his shoulder. You sighed and got a good look of his achingly handsome face one last time before you were standing up from the bed. “You need to go, and so do I. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, wait, please,” he tried to say but stopped when the screen went black and he was met with the sight of his tear streaked face in the reflection. He sat there in disbelief for a few more seconds before dropping the Ipad on the table and leaving the room.

His whole body was numb as he walked down the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts about what exactly just happened. Going into that call, he was a happy, engaged man, and now he had no clue where he stood with you.

He fell onto his bed as he let the harsh reality set in.

You broke up with him. You called off the engagement. You left him.

That was all he needed to think about before he was crying quietly into his pillow. He was glad his bunkmate wasn’t in the room right now, but even if he was, Bradley was sure he still wouldn’t be able to not cry right now at what he just lost.

He reached his hand out and blindly dug around in his bag, pulling out the photo he kept in the pocket. Through blurry vision he was able to make out the two of you at the Hard Deck, his arm wrapped around your shoulders while yours were around his middle. It was taken on your fourth date, back when he was sure he had found the girl he was going to marry one day.

And it was true.

Just two dates in and he was whipped for you, ready to push away any other potential dates with other women and wanting to settle down with you. He deleted the few dating apps he had installed on his phone, removed a bunch of random numbers on his contact list and told you that he was looking for something serious at that point in his life. To be fair, he was thirty two when he met you, and he was craving that sort of domestic life he had been told comes with starting a serious relationship.

Thankfully, you felt the same and by the fifth date, you were officially his girlfriend.

And a few years after that you became his fiancée, and he was the happiest he had ever been.

He cried a bit harder as he stared at the picture, wishing he could go back to that exact moment and start over. He would never want to give up the memories he had made with you since then, but he would also do anything to have a second chance and do it right this time.

Did he miss the signs? Was he not paying enough attention for him to be able to see that you weren’t doing well with the whole thing? When had he become so blind to your feelings?

You looking so defeated and sad was something he never liked seeing, especially when he was so far away from you and couldn’t properly comfort you. When he saw how you removed your engagement ring and the evidence that you really are moving out of the house he’s shared with you for three years, he had never felt more heartbroken in his life.

He had never felt this devastated. He felt more isolated than before.

Bradley was usually able to cope with deployments pretty well, knowing that he had you to go back home to.

Now he knew you were leaving him and had even started packing your things. He would be returning home to a house that no longer held your stuff in it and would have to sleep in a bed you avoided for months because it hurt you too much.

He had never wanted to hurt you, ever, but that was exactly what he had done.

Really, he couldn’t blame you for leaving. He knew that dating someone in the navy isn’t easy, but he still felt bitter at the fact that you wouldn’t let him try to fix it in the limited way he could. There wasn’t much he could do from his place on the carrier ship, but he still tried to get you to talk to him. He tried to save the relationship, but it was too much in the end.

He was asking too much of you, and he also wasn’t enough.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #top gun au #top gun maverick #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst

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its-the-pilot · 7 months

Text

Waves | 6 | Rooster x Reader

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

This chapter is a little longer than I was expecting, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: You and Bradley make a decision. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 3.4k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Message or comment to join the taglist!

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Chapter Six

The weeks that followed the kiss on your front porch proved to be hectic for both you and Bradley. Your schedules had become jam-packed with early mornings and late nights, leaving few opportunities for you to spend time together.

Fortunately, the whispers and stares that followed your outburst had died down and you felt comfortable spending a night out at the Hard Deck again, so you had made plans to meet there after work. That’s where you found yourself nursing a glass of wine and checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a text from him.

Penny wiped down the bar as she prepared for the Friday night rush, casting a knowing glance your way. Her eyes took in the fitted navy blue dress you had worn to work that day and offered an appreciative nod. “You look cute tonight, honey,” she smiled. “How late is he?”

Looking up from your phone, you took another drink of your wine before answering. “Almost an hour. I texted him and he hasn't said anything yet, but I doubt he's still in the air, the others are here already.” You sighed, motioning toward the pool table not far from you, where the other aviators were hanging out. “I thought things were going so well, and I just… what if he changed his mind?”

Penny nodded in understanding and reached across the bar to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re overreacting, hon. Men in uniform, especially aviators, have unpredictable schedules, you know that. There’s probably a perfectly good reason for why he’s late. Give him a chance to explain.”

You squeezed her hand back in silent thanks and smiled when you heard a familiar voice behind you. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but you’re looking for Bradshaw?”

Turning your head, you found Jake standing there holding a pool cue. “Yeah… do you know where he is?”

“Probably still back at the hangar,” he offered, moving to sit on the stool next to yours. He had been half listening to your conversation with Penny since you sat down, curious to know more about the woman that had Rooster smiling lately. He'd tried getting it out of the man himself, but was unsuccessful. “Got stuck doing push ups after his flight.”

It was common knowledge among those who worked with the pilots in training that any screw-ups in the air led to some sort of correction on the ground. In recent years, that correction had taken the form of push ups numbering in the hundreds depending on the infraction.

“What happened?” You asked, shifting to fully face the blonde as Penny attended to other customers. Jake had come by your office for sessions a few times since your first encounter, and you were starting to build a rapport, seeing the real man behind the Hangman mask.

He passed the pool cue he was holding to another aviator, his shrug conveying a sense of indifference. “He was just being Rooster.”

With an eye roll, you finished your wine and set the glass aside. Callsigns and how they were determined had always seemed silly to you and for the most part, you chose to ignore them. “I don't know what that means, and something tells me I don't want to.”

“He doesn't take any risks. Always waiting for the perfect moment,” he elaborated, resting his elbow on the counter. He was wearing his civilian clothes tonight, a pair of well fitted jeans with cowboy boots and a t-shirt that said Fly Navy on it, his sunglasses hanging from the collar.

“So he’s cautious. Sounds like a good thing to me, especially if he’s looking out for his wingman.” You ordered another glass of wine for yourself and a beer for Jake when Penny passed by.

Jake thanked you for the beer, but shook his head at your statement. “He has to be able to take the shot, even if the conditions are less than ideal, and he doesn’t. At least he didn’t today.” He considered you for a moment, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “You ever fly one?”

“Only in training, but I go up a few times a month with different pilots for research.” Although you had earned your wings during your training, it was your least favorite part of the job, though undeniably necessary.

His grin widened and he leaned in, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music as the jukebox kicked on “Maybe I can take you up sometime, show you how it’s done.”

That was what Bradley saw when he walked into the bar, still wearing his flight suit, the top half tied around his waist exposing the black t-shirt he wore underneath. He hadn’t changed, wanting to get to the bar as soon as possible since he was over an hour late.

It didn’t take him much time at all to cross the bar, his eyes narrowing as he approached you and Jake, his emotions clearly running high. He couldn’t hide the pang of jealousy he felt when he saw you laughing at something the blonde had said. He called your name just before he reached you, wrapping his arm around you possessively and pressing his lips to yours when you looked up, your eyes wide with surprise.

He felt your body tense under his fingers, the initial flicker of panic running through you before you realized it was him and he smoothed his hand over your back, a silent apology for startling you.

Jake leaned back against his bar stool, taking a swig from his beer, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as he watched the scene in front of him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. How’d those push-ups treat you, Rooster?”

When Bradley finally broke the kiss he looked over to the other aviator, his arm still wrapped around you. “No problem, Hangman. It was arm day anyway,” he quipped, motioning between you and Jake. “What’s goin’ on with you two? Having a good night?”

“Just offering Doc a flight, to show her how it’s supposed to go,” Jake replied, seeing the flush creeping up on Bradley’s cheeks as he continued to tease him.

You found yourself caught in the middle, feeling like a toy they were fighting over. “Children…” Shaking your head, you turned to Jake with a polite smile. “I was just telling him it was unnecessary. I already have my flights for the month scheduled. Thank you for the offer though, Lieutenant. I’ll see you around.”

Hangman looked as if he had more to say, but he thought better of it, choosing to back down as you dismissed him. He stood and gave you a two-fingered salute before heading back to the pool tables, leaving you alone with Bradley.

Once you were in private, you turned and smacked him in the chest, earning a grunt of surprise from him. “What the hell was that?” You hissed, your cheeks flush with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. His unexpected entrance was clearly fueled by jealousy over your conversation with Jake, and while you didn’t mind the kiss, you didn’t appreciate being treated like his possession.

Bradley moved to take a seat on the stool that had just been vacated, a look of confusion on his face. “Hangman is only out for himself, Dimples. You gotta be careful around him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You have got to be kidding me, Bradley. We were just talking. He came over to tell me where you were, since you couldn’t be bothered to do so yourself.” Feeling Jake’s eyes on the two of you from his spot near the pool tables, you decided to defuse the situation by taking Bradley’s hand and leading him out to the deck, away from the growing crowd inside.

“I didn’t have my phone on me, and when I was done I came right over. I didn’t think a text was gonna matter that much.” He tried defending himself, but the look on your face told him he was failing. “I’m sorry.”

With your arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the railing of the deck and studied Bradley intently. “You used to do this in high school. There’s a difference between being in a relationship and being treated like a possession, Bradley. Besides, we agreed to take things slow.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, his gaze shifting to the multicolored sky as the sun set. You were right, he had struggled with jealous tendencies growing up, and you had worked hard to help him overcome them. But seeing you again reignited those feelings, particularly when it came to Jake. “The guy just gets under my skin.”

“Well, maybe you should hash shit out with him then,” you suggested, your tone gentle but firm. Conflict resolution and letting go of grudges had never been Bradley’s strong suit, evidenced by his difficulty talking about Maverick even after nearly fifteen years since their last argument. “But stop putting me in the middle. I’m allowed to have friends, and you don’t get to approve or reject them.”

Nodding, he stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mustache brushing your skin. “Forgive me?”

You looked up at him for a long moment, finally nodding. “This time, Lieutenant,” you warned, giving a teasing smirk as you looked him over, appreciating the flight suit and tight black shirt he was wearing. You typically didn’t like uniforms, but seeing Bradley in one gave you a new appreciation. “If we go back inside, can you behave?”

“Only if you can,” he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he noticed the way you were looking at him. Reaching for you, he pressed his body against yours, trapping you against the railing of the bar’s deck as he got the scent of sweat and jet fuel all over your clothes.

“Stop!” you squealed, laughing as you managed to get him to step back by tickling his side. Once he did, you gave him a light pat on the chest. “Let’s go get you a beer.”

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

The rest of the night went well, the earlier tension fading as you sat with Bradley, chatting about your week while sipping your drinks. At one point, Jake caught your eye from his place near the pool tables and raised his glass in a mock toast. You smiled in return, silently appreciating the way he didn’t let the earlier dramatics bother him.

Bradley, for his part, kept a watchful eye on your interactions but managed to refrain from any further displays of jealousy.

When the crowd inside the bar started to thin out, he stood and offered you his hand, the familiar opening chords of REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” playing on the jukebox. “Dance with me?”

Your face lit up with a warm smile as you recognized the song. “Of course, it’s our song,” you replied, taking his hand. He kept a respectable distance between you, one hand gently on your waist while the other held yours as you swayed to the music.

As you moved together, you couldn’t help the way it stirred up memories of your past together. “I remember the night we decided on this one.”

Bradley’s eyes were locked on yours, filled with tenderness and nostalgia. “Yeah, me too. Pulling out my mom and dad’s old records and losing ourselves in the music, sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace… some of my favorite memories are from that night.”

Moving closer, you rested your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes closed as you allowed the memories you had pushed to the back of your mind to resurface. You recalled the cozy nest you created with blankets and cushions, a place where you held each other and listened to music until sleep claimed you. It was the two of you against the world, especially when your uncle was away and you had the house to yourselves, and back then you thought those moments would last forever.

As the song ended, you lifted your head from his shoulder. “I missed this,” you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

Bradley tightened his arms around you and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head. “I did too. Honestly, this? Us coming together here, after all this time? Feels like fate. A second chance.”

You pulled back reluctantly, though your hand remained in his as you bit your lip and looked up to him. “Will you take me home? We can talk more there.”

He nodded, fishing his keys out of his pocket and handing them to you. “Go ahead and start the truck, I’ll take care of the tab.”

Taking the keys, you walked out to the Bronco and started the engine before sliding over to the passenger side, waiting for Bradley to return. The engine’s purr seemed to echo the mix of emotions that swirled within you -- trepidation, a touch of excitement, and a sense of anticipation that had been dormant for far too long.

Once Bradley climbed behind the wheel, he put the truck into gear and you exchanged a soft smile, confirming that you were ready to leave.

The drive to your house was quick, not giving either of you much time to think about the feelings that simmered in the air between you. When you moved inside, you settled on the couch beside Bradley, the room enveloped in a warm, comforting glow cast by a lamp.

After a moment of quiet, you took a deep breath and looked into his hazel eyes. “What are you hoping for between us, B? Do you want me to fall back in love with you?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “'Cause I don’t know how to do that when I never stopped.”

“I never stopped loving you either.” He admitted, his expression a mix of sincerity and vulnerability.

The admission hung in the air between you, a testament to the complex emotions that you both dealt with throughout your time apart. Your fingers idly picked at a piece of lint on your dress, a nervous habit, before you mustered the courage to speak. Your voice wavered, but you pressed on.

“Then why didn’t you come back?” You asked, your eyes locked onto his, seeking answers.

“Because I… I know this doesn’t make sense,” he tried, his hand gently covering yours in an attempt to offer comfort.

“It doesn’t.” Your response was straightforward, heavy with unspoken hurt that you had carried for years.

Bradley leaned in, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Alright, please, hear me out,” he pled, his voice soft and sincere. “I wanted to do something good. I wanted to spare you pain.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You didn’t save me from anything. I lived with that pain every day, Bradley, and I blamed you. I blame you for thinking you knew what was best for me when it was you all along.”

His shoulders slumped under the weight of your words. Releasing your hand, he ran it through his caramel curls, leaving them tousled. “I know,” he admitted, his voice remorseful. His eyes mirrored the way you were feeling, revealing the struggle he had with his past decisions. “I didn’t want you to wait for me. There was so much you wanted to do.”

“I wanted to do all of it with you!” Your voice cracked, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “And I would have gladly waited for as long as it took.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t deserve you,” he replied, the weight of regret plain on his face.

“Deserve me? Jesus, Bradley, don’t you understand?” You asked, frustration lacing your tone as more tears fell down your cheeks. “When I was alone at night I wanted you! And I cried for you, and I even hated you at times. I hated you because… because I would have chosen you no matter what. And you took that choice away from me.”

“I made a mistake,” he declared, lifting his hand to gently cup your cheek as he brushed the tears away with his thumb. He hated seeing you cry, it broke his heart in ways he didn’t think were possible.

You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “Yes, you did.”

“I did,” he confirmed, searching your eyes as he continued. “I hurt you, and I would do anything to take that back. But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t care about me the same way I care about you, and I’ll walk away.”

Shaking your head, your hand lifted to cover his that rested on your cheek. “I can’t.” You felt his hand move, his fingers lacing through yours before resting on your lap. “I do care about you. Which is why we can’t…” you pulled your hand away from his gently.

Every insecurity you had was rearing its ugly head at the same time and there was nothing you could do to stop it. “You’re gonna graduate from TOP GUN and go back to your squadron, on the other side of the country. Who knows when or if you’ll be back. We can’t start something.”

Bradley could sense the anxiety rising in you and frowned, whispering your name. “I’m just as scared as you are, okay? I haven’t felt this for anyone in my life but you. I didn’t think I ever would again, but then you walked up to me at the bar… from the moment I saw you, I knew.”

He was saying all the right words, dismantling your defenses one by one, and you hated that after all these years he still had that power over you. There was something about him, an unwavering confidence you’d never possessed growing up, and that certainty about everything had helped ground you more times than you could count.

Just being in the same room as him made you feel safe, and it was that feeling that left a Bradley Bradshaw-shaped hole in your life for fourteen years. You had learned to live without him, and now that he was here, practically throwing himself at your feet for forgiveness, you needed to decide if you wanted him back.

“I can’t stop how I feel,” he blurted out after waiting for your response, which had yet to come. “I know… what I’m asking is a lot. I can’t change the past, what I did, how I hurt you… but I want to be a part of your future.”

You finally reached for his hand again as you took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. “I can’t change the past either, and I won’t pretend I’m not still hurt by what happened. But you’re here, asking for a second chance… that means something.”

Bradley’s face brightened with hope, but you continued with a note of caution. “If you want us to have a future, you have to know it won’t be easy. I’m not the same girl you left, and I’ve had my trust broken a lot, so it’s gonna take time to earn mine.” You paused, your grip on his hand tightening. “If you’re willing to work through this together, to prove that your words aren’t just empty promises, then I’m willing to give us another chance.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes, Dimples,” he promised, the relief in his eyes unmistakable. This was what he had been waiting for since he saw you that first night at the Hard Deck. “I’ll spend every day proving to you that I’ve changed, that I’ve learned from my mistakes.”

Your eyes never left his, searching for any signs of deception. When you found none, you closed the gap and kissed him deeply. Bradley responded with equal fervor, pulling you closer until you were comfortably settled on his lap, the skirt of your well-fitted dress bunched around your thighs.

When you finally parted for a breath, you spoke softly. “Stay. Please.”

“I just got you back,” he smiled, stroking your thighs tenderly. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

Chapter Seven

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #miles teller #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader

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feralforfrank · 2 years

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WHEN I PICTURE MYSELF HAPPY, I SEE YOU.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

summary rooster and reader fight, but they make up in their own way.

cw angst with a happy ending, miscommunication trope (?), NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n THE DIALOGUE PROMPT: "When I picture myself happy, I see you."

masterlist | taglist

Your day had been shitty from the start. Bradley had left before you had a chance to wake up again but not to mention there was no note about his departure again. He usually wrote you a cute letter about where he was going and would kiss your forehead before leaving.

That wasn't the first time it'd happened.

You know exactly when it started. One day you woke up while he was getting ready to go to the base and waited with your eyes half-open and your body unmoving until he gave you your kiss to go back to sleep. That never happened. Bradley walked out of the door without so much as glancing at you.

It's okay. He forgot. It's no big deal—at least I'll get my note. But you never did get that note.

After that incident, the date cancellations started. "Sorry, babe, I have a few training exercises to complete, so I'll be home late. Go to the movies without me." "Ah fuck, darlin', you got me in a rough spot. The squad and I are going to the Hard Deck to celebrate Nix's successful mission. You're welcome to join!"

Something was happening with Rooster, and you desperately needed to find out what it was. Work? Maverick? Another woman? Your breath hitched at the thought, and you shook your head in annoyance.

There were so many other things you had to worry about right now, and the thought of Bradley cheating couldn't get in your way. I trust him with my life—he'd never do anything like that.

You pushed your apartment door open and stepped inside, immediately letting go of the shredded grocery bags. Another sigh escaped your mouth as you watched the oranges and apples roll down the ground for the second time.

The first time the fruit fell out on the street was before you got to your building. The apples mostly rolled down the road for a good few seconds before you could put them back in the bag.

You had to wash them before Rooster got home, for he has a habit of eating them off the bowl without caring if they're clean or dirty.

After cleaning them, you placed the fruit in their respective bowls and moved on to the rest of your groceries. You hadn't even realised Bradley was behind you until you felt arms wrap around your waist.

You startled, moving away from the counter and into his arms. A content sigh escaped, and you closed your eyes, relishing in how his warm chest felt on your back. The kiss on your temple that follows leaves your heart a sputtering mess.

You groan, discontented, when he moves away, opening your eyes and turning around just in time to see him biting down on the apple.

"No, Bradley, don't eat that!" You try to stop him, but it's too late.

"Why not?" He speaks when he's swallowed. "It's delicious."

"God, no. The apples fell on the street right before I got here. I've washed them, but still, you should eat them without the peel."

"Seem fine to me." He shrugs.

"Well, they're not," you snap. "So, let me peel it." You reach to grab it, but he pulls it higher, where you can't touch it.

"What is it with you? You know I've eaten more disgusting things and survived, so what's your problem?!" He looks at you with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

You grit your teeth. "My problem is that you won't let me do a simple thing for you. Why do you have to act like such a baby?!"

"What?" Bradley is left breathless at your tone.

You admit there's no reason to get this worked up over fruit, but the stress-filled day and now, Rooster not listening to you was getting too much.

He tries again. "What's the matter, baby?"

"Nothing's the fucking matter, Bradshaw!" You're even surprised by how loud your voice is.

"Jesus Christ," Bradley mutters. "I'll be at the Hard Deck if you need anything." He grabs his keys and wallet, and before you know it, you hear his Bronco speed down the road.

God, what have you done?

—

You take up on his invitation (was it an invitation?) to come to the Hard Deck in the late evening. Well, you couldn't have come, for it's Nix's birthday today and you loved her too much to miss it.

Your dress is one of Rooster's favourites, and you hoped that if he noticed it, it'd make the apology you composed in your head better.

After greeting everyone, surprisingly even Hangman, you walk to Penny. You're looking around the packed bar in an attempt to find Rooster while Penny reaches down for your favourite beer.

"Thanks." You spare her a glance.

Before you can ask her if she has seen Bradley, she points to the other side of the bar where he's laughing with a...a woman. He's talking to a woman about your age, and they're laughing.

You feel weak. Your knees almost give out, your eyes slightly widening at what you're watching. Whatever smile you were giving Penny and your friends is gone, for your lips have turned downwards in the most saddening way possible.

He hasn't noticed you staring yet, but you can't look away. The girl is beautiful—dark hair, tall, and skinny. Her dress is much better than yours, and you can see her body shines with jewellery.

"That's my cousin." Someone whispers in your ear. You turn to look, and it's Phoenix.

Your head snaps back to them when the cousin laughs loudly. Wetness has gathered around your eyes, and you don't know if it's because you haven't blinked in so long or because your heart is twisting painfully in your chest.

"U-Um. I'm going for some fresh air." Your voice is shaky, and you don't dare look at Nix as you speed walk out of the suffocating bar. You make your way to the last steps of its backdoor, dropping on the sand-filled wooden steps.

Unbeknown to you, Bradley had seen the way you left the bar. He looked at Phoenix, who only shook her head disappointingly as an answer and then motioned him to find her. He didn't hesitate.

—

The beer was cold in your hands, so you set it beside you. You desperately wanted to go home but felt guilty when you thought about leaving. Phoenix was one of your only non-testosterone-filled friends, and it wasn't her cousin's fault for talking to Rooster. It could've been anyone on the team.

Bradley could never cheat, the rational voice in your head kept grasping at the little hope you had left. He was just making casual conversation. Right? Right.

You failed to comprehend the footsteps behind you until the person stopped and sat next to you. The familiar cologne drifted to your nostrils, and you decided to keep your head forward, wanting to hide the unstoppable tears that ran down your cheeks.

"Hi," he tries first. "Nix told me you'd be here."

You hummed, sipping your beer. "Yeah, well, I saw you were busy again, so I decided to let you have your fun." Your voice is barely collected.

"What does that even mean?" You shrug.

"You know, I don't understand what's with you. I asked you about it, and you yelled at me, so it has to do something with me. I can't resolve the issue if you don't tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

Rooster's body has half turned toward yours now, trying to get a look on your face, but you hide it from him.

"It's a silly reason." There's no way you're telling tell a naval pilot you're lonely and sad without him. He has bigger problems than this. "Sorry for yelling at you. I did want to peel the apple for you; so you don't get sick or something."

"Wh-What? That's it?"

"Oh, um—I'm sorry for calling you a baby? You're a grown man, and I shouldn't take my anger out on you, especially when you're around only once every week."

You didn't mean for the last sentence to come out, but it did anyway, and the sarcasm was evident.

"That's it!" Rooster exclaims. "It's because I'm always working, isn't it?" When you don't answer, he knows it's true.

"You know I do this shit for you! So we can have enough money to buy your dream house in whichever place you'd like. So you can have food and water and clothes. You knew what you were signing up for, so why are you doing this right now?!"

"Because I miss you, Bradley! I fucking miss you—there I said it!" You inhale, holding the tears back. "Of course, I don't want you to quit the job that you love so much! But I've been waiting for so long, after every mission, for you to come home, greet me, and spend time with me, but you don't!

And I don't know if I'm the problem—are you tired of me? Are you not happy with me anymore? Do you have another girl that's more exciting than me? What is it?!"

At this point, your voice is on the verge of breaking. You still haven't looked at Rooster. A tear escapes your eye, but he doesn't notice.

"Baby..." He moves to hold you.

You push him away.

"N-No, Rooster. Just tell me."

His heart breaks when he hears your voice crack. His body goes rigid, and his breath hitches. Have you been crying this whole time? He reaches for you again, being more gentle this time, and you let him. He turns your head and tilts it upward to meet his eyes.

Bradley can feel how wet your cheeks are as soon as he touches you. His stomach drops. He made you cry?

"Sweetheart, you're crying." You bite your lip to keep your breaths steady but look away, fearing you'll burst if you don't.

"It's silly." It's almost a whisper.

"No, no, no, no, you're crying," he says your name and your eyes meet his unconsciously.

"I made you cry."

"Well, I made you angry."

"Do you seriously believe that I'm not happy with you?" Your head faintly moves affirmatively.

He stares in disbelief for a second, but then his face morphs into something sweeter. Both of his palms find your cheeks and lightly squeeze.

"When I picture myself happy, I see you. Not planes, not Mav, not our friends. I only see you."

"Really?" You whisper.

"Yes."

"Then why have you been so distant? Why don't you kiss me anymore? Where did your notes go?" You know you sound like a child, but you don't care.

"I-I thought they were corny. Didn't want you to get sick of me. And as for the kisses, I thought you didn't want them. You pushed me away in your sleep once, but now that I think about it, you were dead to the world—so it might've been an accident." Your chest felt lighter now.

"A-And the girl?" You couldn't help but ask.

Rooster laughed. "I told you, baby. You're the only one for me. Plus, she doesn't swing my way." He wiggles his eyebrows, and you can't help but laugh.

"There's that beautiful laugh I haven't heard in days!"

He lets go of your face, and it falls on his lap as you try to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"I love you, Roos," you mutter, a small smile on your lips.

"I love you more, sweet girl. Next time you feel lonely, remember I'm only one call away." You nod.

Bradley's fingers travel through your hair, and you let him comb it. This is the first time in weeks that you have felt peaceful. You didn't want this moment to end.

—

[ taglist: @roosterschanelslut @maverick-wingman @amnmich @mattyskies @wildcole @gretagerwigsmuse @bespinnn @collaps3r @caldodemazapangourmet @oikawasblueearbud @rip--tide @barryswifey @fanboyluvr @spookys-girl @lonelywitchv2 @j-deimos @heywheresemily @avengersfan25 @piceous21 @sarahjoestewy-blog @n3ssm0nique @mouseymagines @xx-kate-xx13 @vaporub4ever @reading-rosa @marie1115 @dxvanadeline @plaboneruda @awesomebooklover17 @mxlsmith @mak-32 @torresbarnes @depressed-focker @kwanimations @magicstrengthandcourage @graysondanvers @danielmarie @giuliamunson @this-is-a-bad-idea @bordelhoe @melody-death @studentville-struggles @desert-fern @tw1l1ghtlvr @idkwhattodowithmylife67 @kenobiow ]

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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The Parent Trap 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 | Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw Imagine

Inspired by Disney’s ‘The Parent Trap’

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x novelist female!reader (romantic), Lila L/n and Caroline Bradshaw!OCs (daughters), Marilyn Brooks!OC (Bradley’s love interest), Ollie Tomas (platonic, Y/n’s bff), Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell (platonic) & Hannix (Phoenix x Hangman)

Content Warnings: fluff, light angst, profanity, pregnancy & childbirth, separated twins, second chance romance troupe, assault (reader punches a character) | female reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 18k+ this is long folks.

Premise: It was quite literally love at first sight for aspiring aviator Bradley Bradshaw and writer Y/n L/n, but the relationship ended as fast as it started. It did result in the birth of their beautiful identical twin daughters, Lila and Caroline—but even they couldn’t keep them together. An agreement was made in the divorce, Caroline would grow up with Bradley, and Lila would be raised by Y/n so the former couple never had to see each other again. What neither anticipated, however, were the sisters coming face-to-face at summer camp the year they turned 14…..and forming the ultimate parent trap to reunite their parents for a second chance at love.

Note: I rewatched ‘The Parent Trap’ the other night and gosh I remembered how much I loved that movie as a kid. I immediately got to writing this because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just to be clear I do NOT support the idea of separating children especially twins & not tell them. This is of course for fictional purposes & I do not own Disney, The Parent Trap or the TGM characters. Hope you enjoyed! (Also I envisioned Dan Levy as Ollie when I wrote this & Margot Robbie as Marilyn😂

Thank you guys so so much for 1k!!!! I’m over the moon and cannot believe that I hit 1k just as I’m celebrating 1 year of coming back to this writing account and actually keeping up with works ! 🥹🥹 I love you all and appreciate all the kind words left on my stories 🤍🤍 you guys are the best!! — Bee 🐝

——————————————

“I know you’re upset, honey,” Y/n brushed Lila’s dirty blonde hair behind her ear, “But it’s for the best. Just think before you know it’ll be the holidays and then next summer I’ll fly you out there.” All she got in response was a sad nod, the fourteen-year-old turning to look out the window. Sunny California soon turned into cloudy New York as the plane traveled from coast to coast. The entire journey the novelist thought back to the past two weeks, which did nothing to heal her aching heart. Not only did she mourn leaving behind her second daughter, but she mourned what could’ve been with the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with almost fourteen years ago.

The one who made her believe in love at first sight.

In 2006, aspiring writer Y/n L/n was on the verge of college graduation, planning to move to New York City in hope of accomplishing her dream of becoming a New York Times bestselling author.

For as long as she could imagine writing stories was her escapism from the hardships of reality. A hopeless romantic, most of her work was romance—dabbling in fantasy or historical fiction from time to time but keeping a romance troupe involved. She first started writing fanfiction on the internet when it was just starting out, focusing on some of her favorite characters which resulted in her profile becoming popular with readers. It soon progressed to her attempting to write an actual novel.

The story she envisioned to write one day was keeping her up at night, so she finally sat her ass down the summer going into her senior year and started writing. In between classes and working at the campus library at UVA, where she was studying literature and psychology, Y/n was nose deep in her Apple iBook she literally got because of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Pages upon pages, the words flew from her mind and onto the screen, forming dialogue and descriptions. She didn’t know what would come of the book, unsure if she would even send it to literary agents and publishers once completed, but for now it was purely for her entertainment.

After all, look at Stephenie Meyer. Home girl wrote a book based on a dream and it turned out to be one of the bestselling series of all time.

Graduation came in a blur. Her plan was to go to the ceremony, get her diploma, and then head back to her place to finish writing. She was only a few chapters from being done. The last thing she wrote was the big twist which could be the make or break for the main character to be with the love interest, all that was needed was the resolution.

What Y/n didn’t expect that night was going to a party, at the insistence of her friend, and meeting who she believed was the man of her dreams.

Bradley Bradshaw was everything a girl would fawn over. Handsome, funny, flirty, the life of a party, who had dreams and aspirations. While his friends clowned him for having the typical 80s porstache, they secretly envied how well he pulled it off. Which was obvious by the amount of women throwing themselves at him.

Y/n’s friend had her eyes on him that night….but little did they both know, he had eyes for Y/n.

The second she walked in he was drawn to her. “Who’s that?” He asked his buddy, Fabian, interrupting him from his flirting with a pretty redhead. Annoyed, Fabian looked in the direction of Bradley’s gaze, catching Y/n in his line of sights.

“You talkin’ about the girl in the white pantsuit? That’s I think Y/n if I remember—we had psych 101 together ages ago. She doubled majored with English and worked at the library….” he raised a brow at Bradley, who was already walking toward Y/n with a determined look on his face.

Her friend Tanya spotted him first, immediately smiling with hopeful eyes. Only it fell to a small frown when she realized he wasn’t looking at her, but Y/n.

“Hi,” the greeting has Y/n turn around, red solo cup in hand and becoming puzzled at the sight of a gorgeous man standing behind her.

“U-uh hello.”

Bradley extends a hand, “I’m Bradley.” Y/n shakes it, both flinching when a spark ignites at the contact.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n,” he beams, now aware she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you’d like to dance?”

“Oh um,” she glances at Tanya, seeing her saddened look and becomes apologetic. “I-I don’t know…”

“Just one,” he insists, “and then I promise to leave you alone afterwards.”

Y/n still appeared hesitant, not wanting to upset Tanya further, but the woman gives her a soft smile, “go on,” she takes the cup from Y/n, “I’ll be right here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. In fact,” Tanya bites her lip when she connects eyes with a guy she had a class with the previous semester. One she thought was cute and wouldn’t mind getting to know. When he gives her a wave and gestures for her to come over, Tanya blushes, “I’ll be over there talking to Grayson. Take all the time you need.” She was already on the move before Y/n could say anything else, leaving her with Bradley.

“Sooo…” he holds out a hand, nodding his head to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the house the party was at.

Heart racing, Y/n gives a small smile and takes his hand, letting him lead her to the floor. It was the first time a guy had asked her to dance at a party. Though she didn’t date or go out much in college, the times she did Y/n often got left alone because Tanya or one of their roommates/friends were hit on and she didn’t. Plus with school, work, and writing her book, a social life was pretty much nonexistent.

One dance became two, then three, and four. Before she knew it three a.m rolled by and she and Bradley had danced and talked the whole night, ending with the two sitting in the back of his Bronco with sonic Route 44s and milkshakes. Never had Y/n laughed as hard as she did that night, almost to the point of tears. There was warmth all through her veins, even after the two parted ways, only sharing a sweet kiss when he dropped her off at her apartment.

It was the closest thing she felt to love at first sight.

Maybe it truly was.

Things went by fast. Literally. So fast it was starting to make Y/n worried. Not only were the feelings getting stronger, but the terms of the relationship in general. Within a weeks they were living together, Bradley going as far as to propose to Y/n with the news of his commission into the U.S Navy.

“Marry me, Y/n,” he told her after the ceremony, the shiny Ensign ranks on the color of his uniform. “I know it sounds crazy, but I wanna share my life with you—every part of it. Till the day I die.”

Part of her was conflicted but the overwhelming love for Bradley had Y/n say yes. That weekend they were at the courthouse, exiting as Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw.

But unfortunately the love story ended before it could really begin.

A few short weeks after the wedding, Y/n found out she was pregnant while Bradley was at flight school. It terrified her as much as it excited her. They were only twenty-two, with Bradley’s Naval career just starting out and Y/n trying to get her food in the door on hers. Having double majored in literature and psychology there were many career paths she could go into. Many would involve her having to get a Masters, but the couple were already paying off student loans from undergrad that she didn’t want to have to take out anymore financial aid.

Personally Y/n wanted to write books. She had yet to finish the one from college, with plenty more ideas safely tucked in her mind. The news of her pregnancy would have to put any potential job on hold.

Bradley was beyond excited when she told him, lifting her in his arms with glee, “I’m gonna be a dad!” His excitement was what really made Y/n look forward to bringing their baby into the world. She still had worries no doubt but having Bradley, who was now known to his fellow aviators as Rooster, made it easier.

But the couple were in for a much bigger surprise.

“TWINS?!” They both shrieked in the hospital room, eyes bulging the monitor showcasing two sacs in Y/n’s womb. Rooster nearly went into cardiac arrest, the woman bursting into tears which had him hold her tightly in his arms. Lips pressed to her head as he mumbled, “We got this baby. This is exciting! Just think, they’ll be best friends forever.”

“And it looks like,” the technician moved the wand across Y/n’s stomach a bit more to get a better angle. “You are gonna be blessed with two girls, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw.” That had Y/n cry even more, Rooster shedding his own at the excitement and love that filled him.

“Girls,” he breathed in awe, kissing all over his wife’s face making her cries turn into giggles. “We’re having little girls—I’m so happy, Y/n. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this gift.”

In April of 2007 Lila and Caroline Bradshaw arrived. Identical twins who literally could not be told apart unless they were dressed differently. So the couple bought matching necklaces with gold pendants on each with the letters ‘C’ and ‘L’ for each girl. That way they could always know who was who.

Named after his mother, Caroline was a daddy’s girl even as a newborn. The only time she ever really wanted Y/n was when she was hungry, other than that little Caroline wanted to be in Bradley’s arms. She’d fall asleep in them, whine if she were in someone else’s, and make grabby hands for him when he’d come home. Caroline’s personality resembled Rooster’s, literally the life of the party whenever people were over.

Lila on the other hand was her momma’s mini me. The name came from a character in Y/n’s book. Not the protagonist, but the best friend who Y/n enjoyed writing for more than the main character. It was a name she always loved, and the moment Y/n’s eyes landed on the baby girl the name was perfect for her. Opposite of her sister, Lila was quiet and reserved. She loved to be held by Y/n and would beg for her attention. Like Caroline was a daddy’s girl, Lila was momma’s angel.

Life seemed to be good. It was good.

But then when the twins turned six months, things started to sour. They were living in Virginia with Bradley assigned to the Golden Warriors and Y/n was at home taking care of the girls. She’d get a little bit of writing done within the week but had major writer's block. Almost twice a week she and Bradley were arguing over something whether it was money, work, or the girls. They’d go to bed with their backs facing each other, Bradley leaving in the morning with little to no goodbye and when he’d return home he’d be so exhausted the two would rarely talk like they used to.

It was apparent the honeymoon stage was over. Both realizing it just wasn’t working out and even with their daughters the relationship was becoming strained.

What really ended everything was the night of the officer’s ball. A disrespectful comment was made to Y/n about wanting to be a published romance author by one of Bradley’s superiors. And he didn’t stand up for her. In fact, the man had the audacity to laugh with the men.

Heartbroken and pissed off, Y/n threw her napkin onto the table and removed herself without permission to be excused. Everyone stared with wide eyes, Bradley’s superiors watching with disapproval and making snide comments to the licensed pilot. Now he was angry, feeling humiliated by the scene and raced after his wife with an apology to the guests.

When they got outside both were feeling the heat. Spitting off words that they knew were going to fuel the fire.

“What the fuck was that, Y/n?”

“What the fuck was that?” She repeated with malice, “How fucking dare you sit there and laugh while they insult me! I’m your fucking wife, Bradley—you’re supposed to stand up for me! Instead you humiliated me!”

The entire drive home they were silent. Rooster’s knuckles were practically white with how hard he was gripping them, Y/n breathing heavily to control the anger. Not even the radio was playing. Only silence filled the void of the impeding argument that was to continue when they got home.

The door of the Bronco slamming alerted the babysitter, the teenage daughter of their neighbors, who met them outside with a smile only to frown when Bradley stormed past her. “Is everything—,” she went to ask but Y/n stopped her.

“Everything’s fine.” It was far from fine but she didn’t need to know that. Y/n removed a small wad of cash from her clutch, handing it to the girl. “This is for you. Thanks for all your help, Molly.”

When Y/n got in she checked on her girls first and then met Bradley in the bedroom to get out of the god forsaken dress she started to feel claustrophobic in. It wasn’t even fifteen seconds later before the couple were at it again. They tried to keep quiet for the sake of their daughters asleep just down the hall but nothing could stop the shouts from escaping.

“What was I supposed to do?” Rooster throws his arms out, face red. “Tell him to shut the fuck up? I have to work with him, Y/n. I see him every goddamn day—you want me to make my life miserable? Cause he’ll make sure that happens.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you fucking serious, Bradley? You’re so worried about having to do more pushups than people or get hazed than standing up for me? Your own wife?! Yeah, I wanted you to tell him to shut the fuck up—I would’ve done it if was my boss! Because you’re my husband and I wouldn’t let somebody insult you like he did me!”

He sarcastically laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his face, “You know, you’re acting like a fucking lunatic right now.”

The comment had Y/n still, eyes widening as the alarms went off in her head. She waited for him to take it back, but when he didn’t all she could do was make a pained sound, turning away from him before the tears could spill. Exiting their room, Y/n went to the closet where they stored luggage. When she returned she had her large suitcase and a baby bag.

“What are you doing?” She ignored him, starting to throw random clothes in the bag from her dresser. Rooster, came around the bed staring at her in disbelief. “Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Bradley,” she hissed, still not looking at him. “I’m fucking packing and getting the hell out this house. And I’m taking the girls with me.”

“The hell you are!” He shouts, going after her when she enters the bathroom. “You’re not taking my daughters. Especially when I don’t know where the hell you’re going.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she gathers her makeup, skincare, hair care and shower necessities. “Maybe I’ll finally go to New York like I planned before I met you.”

“And what are you gonna do there?” He challenged from the doorway. Y/n felt her hand tighten over the first item in her hand, which happened to be a hair dryer. She could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, praying to God he wouldn’t actually say what would really tear her heart in pieces.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” But Bradley was too far gone before he could stop himself.

“Finish that book? The one you’ve been writing for almost three years and have yet to finish? And then actually get it published?” He chuckled sarcastically, breaking her soul when he added, “Yeah, sure you are. How about you wake up and start thinking about reality—where you should work on getting an actual career that’s gonna support your daughters instead of living in a fairytale.”

The hairdryer left her hand with a literal battle cry, causing Bradley to jump out of the way with a curse, the object hitting the side of his arm. When it bounced on the ground before stopping just by the bed, the couple stared at each other as though they couldn’t believe what had happened. Both were breathing heavily, Y/n’s makeup smudged with tears rolling down her face.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, seeing the immediate regret in his eyes, though no words of the sort followed. Y/n brought a hand up, turning away from him when he said her name. “Fuck you, Bradley.” She heard him leave, the door closing behind him allowing her to succumb to her emotions. The rest of the time she packed her things Y/n fought back sobs. She wouldn’t let him see her like that. That he had hurt her beyond what she could’ve imagined.

The way he took her dream and basically slapped her in the face with it. He knew she was dealing with writer’s block and had trouble focusing on the ending with having to take care of their girls. And not to mention she gave up her pursuits to follow him.

No more.

Zipping up her suitcases, Y/n picked up the wedding photo of her and Bradley. There were not many photos of them printed out and none were hung on the walls just because they would have to move with his job, but the two photos they did have were of their little courthouse wedding and the day the twins were born.

Tears rolling down her cheek, Y/n removed the photo from the frame and tore it down the middle before doing the same with the one of them and the girls. The piece with Bradley looking down at her in the wedding and the one of him holding Lila were folded and placed in her purse, leaving the one of her in her wedding dress and the one holding Caroline. She secretly put them in the drawer of his nightstand, letting him decide what he plans to do with them once she’s gone.

She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but it was for the best in order for them to not have to deal with a nasty custody dispute. Already she could feel a bit of her heart missing. The piece reserved for Caroline.

After quietly packing Lila’s things, Y/n rolled her suitcases down the hall and placed the baby bag on top. Rooster was in the kitchen drinking a beer, ignoring when she came into the living room to gather all the things she had there.

“I have an offer,” she approached when she was done, keeping her gaze on the ground. Y/n feared she wouldn’t be able to say it if she looked into his eyes.

“What,” his voice was monotone, evident he was tired and wanting to get whatever argument out of the way so they could move on.

“I can’t stay here,” she told him, noticing him stiffening in the corner of her eye. “I just can’t, Bradley. We both know this was a long time coming and tonight was just the nail in the coffin. We’re not a good fit—we both want different things. And I can’t even look at you without wanting to scream.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, “I never want to see you again after tonight…so I don’t wanna have to go through a custody battle with you.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to work out?” She could hear the heartbreak in his tone, getting tight with each word like he would explode if she took both girls.

Y/n let out a tired sigh, squeezing her eyes shut, “we both know Caroline prefers you, and Lila prefers me.” She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t she knew he silently agreed. The next words that left her set in stone the next decade in a half of her life, “So I’ll take Lila with me and you raise Caroline. That way they have one of us and we never have to see each other again.” Again Bradley doesn't respond so Y/n softly says, “I’ll call a lawyer in the morning. For now I’m sleeping in the girls room.”

‘Come after me,’ she silently thought, a part of her hoping he would and convince her she was wrong and they could work this out.

‘Go after her,’ his brain screamed at him, not wanting to let go of the woman of his dreams.

But he stayed where he stood.

Twelve hours later the couple sat in the office of a divorce lawyer with papers drawn up indicating Y/n would have custody of Lila, retaining her maiden name and legally changing the girl’s to L/n, and Bradley would have custody of Caroline. They removed their rings, Y/n wiping away a tear when she did, before the two returned to the home to gather Y/n’s things.

Once the car was packed Y/n cradled Caroline while Bradley held Lila, the two facing away from each other to not show the other their emotion.

“I love you so much, sweet girl,” she whispered against Caroline’s tiny head, careful to not let her tears drop on her. Kissing her crown, Y/n softly said, “Our paths will cross again one day. But until then, I hope you have the best life and be a good girl for your daddy. You’ll always be my Caroline, my sweet girl.”

A few yards away, Bradley was saying his own words of love to Lila. “Promise me you won't give your momma too much trouble, Lila darlin’. You two take care of each other,” he kisses her forehead, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’ll see you again one day. I love you darlin’. You’ll always have a piece of me.”

The former couple barely glanced at each other or spoke a word the entire time Bradley was securing Lila in her car seat and Y/n reluctantly handing Caroline over. Her heart skipped, clenching at the same time Bradley surprised her by giving a soft kiss to her forehead, muttering for her to have a safe trip. Y/n only nodded, moving to the driver's seat and backing out of the driveway before pulling onto the road. Y/n finally allowed the tears to fall when she exited the gate for the last time.

When she got to her parents house roughly five hours later Y/n wanted to just go to sleep but her mind wouldn’t let her.

No, in fact, it wanted her to write.

The final piece of the book that had been nagging her for years finally played in her head. Everything from the dialogue to the final scene.

While her parents spent time with Lila, both of whom voiced their unhappiness with her decision to leave behind Caroline, Y/n’s eyes were focused on the screen in front of her. The only time she took breaks was to have dinner, use the bathroom, have downtime with Lila before putting her to bed, and share a glass of wine with her mother. Other than that, Y/n was writing until the early hours of the morning—going as far as to make edits to earlier parts of the book and change things she felt were unnecessary.

By the time the clock hit 4 am, Y/n was in need of a melatonin and 8 hours of sleep. But she was done. Done with the book she had spent so much time trying to get done. It was as though leaving Bradley was the awakening she needed to get it finished.

How fucking sad when one thinks about it.

That mid-morning, after popping a melatonin and sleeping for a few hours before having to tend to Lila, Y/n’s parents were visibly shocked by the difference in her behavior from the previous day. Of course Y/n was still deeply saddened by everything and they could tell it was affecting her, but there was also a sense of hope in her eyes. When asked about it all Y/n responded was, “I finished the book.”

Between looking for small two bedroom apartments in New York and part-time jobs, Y/n edited her book. For about six months she lived with parents, celebrating Lila’s first birthday where Y/n cried herself to sleep at not being able to do the same to Caroline. But then again, she had no one to blame but herself.

The break of a lifetime came a week after Lila’s birthday when Y/n finally got a response from one of five literary agents she had sent her inquiry to. “Hello Ms. L/n, Thank you for sending your inquiry. I’ve read your submission and am intrigued about your book. Please send me a copy of your full manuscript either through my email or a printed version to the address I have listed below. I’m interested to see what you have written and hope you get back to me soon. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Over the moon, Y/n sent a printed copy to Yolanda the next day. Nerves filled her with what the agent would think and if she would have her as a client. After researching for weeks on literary agents, Yolanda Richards was one of the best in the romance genre, with multiple NYT bestsellers under her name plus success at getting movie deals for the books. If Y/n became one of her clients it would be a dream come true.

The email came the following Friday: “Y/n, I am very pleased with your work and thoroughly enjoyed your story. Everything about it was captivating from start to finish. I would love to have you as a partner by representing you in getting your book published and on the market. Please give me a call or email me so we can set up an in-person meeting as soon as possible. I hope you accept my offer and I look forward to possibly working with you. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Almost 13 years later……Summer of 2021

Caroline’s heart was racing. She’d never been so nervous in her entire life than when the plane approached the New York skyline, the first time her hazel eyes had ever witnessed it. Even when she and her father were living in Virginia he seemed to avoid the city like the plague. Always insisting they go somewhere else for a vacation whenever she begged.

Now here she was at JFK airport about to meet the woman she dreamed of knowing all her life.

The whole journey Caroline thought back to the eight weeks of summer camp she’d just experienced. It was like fate had decided to work its magic on the third day when she came face-to-face with a girl who looked exactly like her. Though it’s rumored everyone has at least seven doppelgängers in their lifetime scattered across the globe, something about Lila L/n was different than a typical look-a-like. They were too alike physically. Dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes and standing tall at 5’5, the two were a carbon copy of one another with the exception of Lila having longer hair and bangs. “Actual twins” their campmates would say, but were complete opposites in terms of personality.

For example, Caroline dressed like she was going to the beach no matter the weather and had a knack for old music whereas Lila had more sweaters than t-shirts in her suitcase. Then Lila had an expanded vocabulary like she always was reading a poem in a fancy New York accent yet Caroline could barely tell the difference between there, their, and they’re. Lastly, Caroline was laid back and the extroverted jokester of the camp compared to Lila’s reserved, introverted, goodie-two-shoes nature.

Their rivalry was bound from the start. The end of the first week had the two already pissing off the counselors with the pranks against each other and their friend groups. Halfway through the camp duration was when the counselors had enough and placed them in the isolation cabin to settle their differences.

It was in the isolation cabin where suspicions became realizations.

First it started when both admitted to having a peanut allergy and their favorite food was chicken Alfredo pasta. They both loved romantic comedies and playing piano, neither a fan of licorice or dill pickles.

Finally feeling a friendship starting, Caroline complimented Lila’s necklace, who said it was a gift to her on the day she was born and had her initial on the pendant. Voicing the same, Caroline showed her own necklace with the same pendant only with a ‘C’ on it instead of ‘L’. That’s when Lila asked what day Caroline was born, both confirming they had the same birthday of April 21st, 2007.

Heart pumping with an feeling she couldn’t explain, Caroline revealed she was raised by her dad, who was a Navy fighter pilot and they were currently living in San Diego. “It’s only ever been me and him. He said he and my mom split when I was six months old.”

“No way,” Lila sat up in her bed, feeling the same emotion as Caroline. “I was raised by my mom. We moved to New York when I was a year old and have been there ever since. She told me when I was ten she and my dad divorced when I was six months old and he was in the Navy.”

Pushing aside her bag of hot Cheetos, Caroline began asking a series of questions. “My dad never said much about my mom, but at least once a year would give me some details of what she was like when I begged him. He said one year she had dreams of becoming a writer. What does your mom do?”

Lila’s eyes widened, “She’s an author—she’s written over ten romance novels.”

“Did your mom ever tell you how she and your dad met?”

“They met in college—at a graduation party to be exact. He asked her to dance.”

By now Caroline was gripping her hair, “Did they go to sonic afterwards where they had milkshakes and—.”

“Route 44s,” Lila finished, covering her mouth slightly. The reaction had Caroline racing to her desk to rummage through the drawer. When she faced Lila again, she was holding something to her chest.

“When my parents divorced my mom left behind two ripped photographs. One is of her holding me as a baby, the other is of her wedding day with my dad. They make up halves to a photo—but I‘ve never seen the rest. My dad doesn’t even know I have them.”

Gasping, Lila goes to her own desk and takes out a folder. Flipping through pages she gathers the two images in her own hands before turning back to the teenager. “These are the only photos I have of my dad. Like you, one is of him holding me in the hospital, the other is him in his uniform from the day he married my mom. They were ripped down the middle from the original photo.”

As though they read each other’s mind, the two started walking toward each other, already tearing up at the possibility that what they suspected was true. “On the count of three,” Lila softly said, “we show each other. Okay?”

“Okay,” Caroline agreed with a nod. They started to count down.

“One,” Lila took a step forward.

“Two,” Caroline echoed, mirroring her movement.

“Three!” Gasps left both girls when they extended their arms, each holding a half of the photograph, and slowly put them together. One showed Y/n and Bradley on their wedding day, smiling at each other looking as though they were the happiest people on earth, the other of them holding their daughters. Caroline in Y/n’s arms, and Lila in Bradley’s.

“That’s my dad!” Caroline beamed, in disbelief at the sight before her. There her father was with the beautiful woman she dreamed of meeting. Her mother.

“That’s my mom,” Lila sniffed, the teen overcome with emotion. Once they gathered themself over the initial shock they both couldn’t help but shout, “We’re twin sisters!!” Embracing in a hug filled with glee and laughter.

The idea that came to their head moments later was crazy, but after talking and voicing how they want to meet the other’s parents, the decision was made. Caroline and Lila would switch places. And they were gonna get their parents back together.

Lila told Caroline how their mom was a hopeless romantic at heart despite not having a long term relationship since their dad. The same was for Bradley apparently, Caroline confessing he only had maybe three serious girlfriends but the relationships ended because they couldn’t handle the lifestyle he was in. Or the fact he was a single father.

For the next four weeks the twins learned all about the other’s life and what to expect. “Mom wrote her first book in college around the time she met dad, but she didn’t get it finished until after they divorced. Since then she’s written ten novels—including a trilogy about to be adapted into a movie series and is currently working on a sequel to her debut book that her supporters have been begging for her to write for years. Most of her inspiration comes from what she hopes to experience,” Lila pauses to make a face, “Now that I think about it actually, her second book almost resembles her love story with dad….it’s the only one without a happy ending.” That had the twins frown, feeling more determined with their mission of getting their parents back together.

“This is the Dagger Squad,” Caroline showed Lila the pictures on her phone when the counselors gave them back for the weekend. “My dad went on a special mission two years ago before the pandemic and became friends with the people he did it with. Phoenix,” she points to the pretty brunette pilot, “well Natasha, I’ve known her since I was a baby. She and her husband have been friends with dad since flight school. And this is Maverick,” she scrolls to the next picture of her with a middle aged man in a flight suit, “He’s basically like our surrogate grandpa since dad’s parents passed away a long time ago. They were estranged for some time but became friends again after the mission.”

Lila explained the layout of their mother’s Manhattan home where they along with Y/n’s parents lived. “We always sit down to eat in the dining room as a way to have family time since mom is usually in her office writing or in meetings,” Lila explained before naming off the people in the photographs she had laid out in front of Caroline. “This is Ollie, mom’s best friend and writes romantic thrillers—he was our roommate when we first moved to New York and is often at the house more than his own. Yolanda is her literary agent who is in charge of selling mom’s books when she’s completed them and most recently got a movie deal on mom’s best selling trilogy. I call our grandmother ‘Gran,’ and our grandfather, ‘grandpa’.”

Both girls were the subject of a slight makeover with Lila having to cut her hair shorter, and Caroline getting bangs. When that happened they really were identical twins with the campmates not knowing who was who. Caroline practiced mimicking Lila’s NY accent and taught her the words to ‘Great Balls of Fire.’

“This is ridiculous,” Caroline complained when she was unable to whistle like Lila. “Is this really necessary?”

“Every teenager in New York has had to hail a cab at some point. If Mom is on the phone then I have to be the one to catch the cab—and whistling is gonna get you one more than just waving like an idiot in the middle of the street.”

Last thing to do was exchange plane tickets. Lila to SAN and Caroline to JFK.

They hugged each other goodbye, wishing the other good luck and not to forget certain things. They mostly had everything written down so they were confident they could get everything memorized by heart before they landed at their respective destinations. Caroline felt odd having to wear a long sleeve in July, but the weather for New York was cloudy with cool temperatures so she felt safer wearing the outfit Lila had picked out. She wasn’t the only odd ball, Lila was having to get used to wearing the tank top and pink Hawaiian shirt with shorts—something she never thought she’d ever wear.

They even had to exchange phones considering Lila had the lilac iPhone 12 Pro Max and Caroline had her trusty red iPhone 7 Plus. “Hey it works fine,” she defended, “until I either crack it beyond repair or it just doesn’t turn on one day then I will keep this till the end of time. So be careful with it.”

Promising to text everyday and call at least twice a week, the girls went on their way. Caroline fidgeted in her first class seat, trying to go over her notes to pass the time since it would only be a few hours for her flight compared to Lila’s cross country trip. But when the New York skyline filled her vision, the teenager was in awe.

If she wasn’t so excited she would’ve vomited from the anxiety consuming her. With her backpack on her shoulders and duffle bag in her hands, Caroline did her best to navigate through JFK until she reached the baggage claim. There her stomach did flips at the sight of Ollie waving frantically at her.

“Lila bean! Over here!” Grinning wide, she raced over to the man and was lifted into his arms. “Finally you’re back! Ugh you have no idea how crazy it’s been without you,” he set her down, making movements with his hand, “I’ve had no one to discuss the latest season of Bachelor in Paradise with because your mom’s been so nose deep in her work the whole summer—I’ve been trying to get her thoughts on if my next book should be a sexy twist on the show where every contestant has a dirty secret and one of them is a literal serial killer but she won’t budge from that computer. It’s been the only thing to distract her from being sad with you not being there—and oh my goodness,” he suddenly gasped, making her flinch, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh u-uh,” she stuttered nervously, praying her accent was believable. “A girl from camp cut it. I wanted to try something new. Do you like it?”

“You look fabulous,” he complimented, letting his finger run across the ends of her hair. “It suits more than I thought—you’ve always preferred it long.”

“Well I thought with me entering high school next month I was due for a change.”

Ollie gave her a look once over with an approving nod, “I dig it. Now c’mon—let’s get your bag and head out before this place gets too chaotic for my liking. Plus your mom has been texting me every ten minutes wanting to know if you’ve landed and it’s becoming exhausting.”

Caroline had to hold back cheering in victory when she successfully whistled, catching the attention of a cab driver for the pair. The drive there she was bouncing her knee, taking in the city causing Ollie to look at her confused, “My goodness, eight weeks you’re gone and it’s like you’ve never seen the city before. I promise you it’s the same as you left it.”

The teenager couldn’t help but mentally laugh at the comment, ‘little do you know….’

Arriving in Manhattan Caroline turned giddy. Before Ollie could stop her she was out of the cab with her backpack and duffle, leaving him to get her luggage as she hauled up the stairs to the three story townhouse. The door was unlocked and so she took a deep breath before pushing it open only to gasp by the beautiful interior of the home with a spiral staircase leading to the higher levels.

Setting aside her things, Caroline began to explore the ground level in hopes to find her mother or grandparents. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, the teen entering what appeared to be a study with various bookshelves and framed photographs on the walls. A man was standing up with his back toward her, appearing to look for something particular in his bookshelf.

Caroline’s heart skipped at the realization it was her grandfather. “Hi, grandpa,” she exhaled, causing the man to spin around. Immediately he was in delight.

“Lila! You’re back!” She met him in the middle as he came around the desk, the two embracing. “And you cut your hair, my gosh! You look so different—but great!”

Taking in his scent, the older man looked at her confused before she said, “Sorry, I just missed the smell of your peppermint aroma at camp.” He laughed lightly, rubbing her back with his hand.

“Oh honey we all missed you too.”

“What’s all the commotion?” A female voice entered the picture, Caroline grinning when her eyes met her grandmother’s. The older woman gasped before her own smile took over, “Oh Lila!”

“Gran!” She raced over to her, meeting her in a hug. “I missed you!” The two held each other for a moment, her gran voicing the same and complimenting her new look just as her grandfather did.

Then Caroline heard her. “Lila darling?”

Freezing against her gran, Caroline felt her heart race. Slowly removing herself she hesitantly went to the middle of the foyer. Just as she appeared in the photographs, Y/n was as beautiful as Caroline pictured her to be. Dressed in a cashmere sweater dress, she looked radiant as the light from the window hit her. Hazel eyes shining from unshed tears, Caroline whispered in awe, “Mom.”

“You’re back!”

Just like in a movie it all felt like slow motion as Caroline ran up the stairs while Y/n descended, meeting halfway in a tearful embrace. The hug lingered with Caroline never wanting to let go, a faint sob escaping from the back of her throat and the tears falling down her cheeks—no doubt ruining the mascara she wore. But the teen didn't care. Not when she was in the arms of her mother at last.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whimpered when they pulled away, Y/n moving to brush a finger off her cheeks.

“And I can’t believe it’s you,” the writer chuckled, letting her eyes run over her daughter she believed to be the one she raised. “Look at you, your hair is so short!”

“A girl cut it at camp for me—do you like it?”

“I love it!” Y/n assured with a smile, “You look amazing—I’m surprised that’s all. And..” Y/n tilted her head a bit, “are you wearing mascara?”

“Oh yeah,” Caroline sniffed, moving to swipe under her eyes. She forgot already that Lila wasn’t into makeup like her. “A friend I made at camp wanted to see how my eyelashes looked with it since they’re so long. I forgot I had it on.”

“Oh no worries, honey. I don’t mind you wearing it if that’s what you’d like.”

“N-no it’s okay. I don’t really think it’s my thing, m-mom,” Caroline felt another wave of emotion at saying the word ‘mom,’ making Y/n frown with concern.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” Caroline’s voice cracked. “I’m just so happy. I missed you so much.” Y/n awed, pulling her daughter into another hug.

“Oh honey I missed you too. It almost feels like it’s been forever.”

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut as she nuzzled against Y/n’s shoulder, “you have no idea.”

Two weeks went by of the twins living their dream. Caroline explored New York City by accompanying Y/n to her meetings with Yolanda and watching Bachelor in Paradise to not have Ollie suspicious of her. Slight worry came with how her grandfather seemed to let his eyes linger on her whenever she said something unlike what Lila would say. Three thousand miles away Lila was having difficulty being so social with their father’s friend group—her introverted self needed to get away in order to recharge at times which had Phoenix and Hangman start to question her.

“Did the social butterfly in you burn out at camp, little chicken?” Jake teased one day, “I’ve never seen you this quiet in a single week.”

Lila put on her best face, hoping he wouldn’t see right through it, “You would not believe how exhausting it was dealing with so many people on a daily basis. There were times where I dreaded going to activities and preferred staying in my cabin. They were rambunctious I tell you.” Her choice of words had Natasha eye her, bidding a look to her husband, moving closer to whisper, “Did she just use the word rambunctious?”

It seemed like everyone but their parents were beginning to catch on. The first to figure out were Nat and Jake when Bradley confessed to his daughter, who he believed was Caroline, that he was planning on proposing to his current girlfriend Marilyn Brooks. Caroline had warned Lila that their father was seeing Marilyn, but believed it wouldn’t last till the end of summer. Upset and panicked on what to do, the teenager bursted outside of the Hard Deck and began ranting to herself, accent slipping out and unaware the couple were there the whole time.

“You got something to share with the class, Care Bear?” Nat approached, head tilted down at the teenager who’d gone pale. “Because you seem to be in distress.”

“Phee, Jake,” Lila placed a hand on her chest to calm her breathing, “You both gave me a fright.”

“We gave you a fright?” Jake repeated in confusion. Never had Caroline used expressions like that before, making them more confused.

“Y-you scared me. I-I didn’t know you two were out here.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, Caroline?” Natasha crossed her arms. “Because ever since you came home….you’ve been acting odd. Your appetite’s changed, you’re not as social, Charlie doesn’t want to come near you anymore” she listed off her fingers, Charlie referring to Nat and Jake’s dog who adores Caroline. “And you use these big words now.”

“And just now it sounded like you were straight from New York or something,” Jake added, “And not in the way when you impersonate it on Head’s Up, it was like it was natural for you.”

“Jake, Nat….” Lila thought rapidly to deflect. “I changed a lot over summer—my friend’s from there and helped me perfect it.”

“Alright,” Jake shrugged, “Man if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were—.” Nat slapped his arm, eyes wide with a knowing look causing him to shut up. Jake gave a tight smile to the teen, “Ignore me, I’m just being stupid.”

“Almost as if I were who?”

Natasha shook her head, “No one, Care Bear. Forget we said anything.” As the two went to go back inside, they were stunned by what the girl said next.

“Almost as if I were….Lila?”

Chills appeared on their arms, the couple slowly turning to face her again with eyes full of shock. Both were thinking the same thing: did Rooster finally tell her?

“Y-you know about Lila?” Nat whispered.

The confession rolled off her tongue, “I am Lila.”

Jake dropped his bottle of beer, the glass shattering against the wood while Nat’s hand flew to her mouth. Just as they were about to spit off the millions of questions in their head, Rooster appeared looking relieved to find the teen. “There you are, Care. Why’d you run off like that—I needed to talk to you.” Noticing the way his friends were looking as though they wanted to cry, Rooster then said, “Guys….why are you staring at her like that?”

Seeing Lila shake her head, begging them not to say anything, the two apologized and excused themselves. Later that night Lila asked to stay at their house after getting into an argument with her father about him getting engaged, where she then explained everything after a tearful reunion considering the couple hadn’t seen her since she was a baby.

“Caroline is in New York with our mom,” the confession had the two nearly faint. “We switched places at camp, which I cannot believe fate actually brought us together that way—and we’re hoping to get our parents back together because I know my mom still loves him despite all these years they’ve been separated. But now he’s engaged to that wretched woman who I know is gonna ruin his life. I-I have to call her and get them here now!”

Phoenix gently calmed the girl down, “Lila, it’s almost midnight over there. Call her tomorrow and then we’ll figure something out together.”

The call to Caroline is what got her found out by their grandfather. She was sitting at a picnic table just down the road after jumping from her seat at the dinner table. Unbeknownst to Caroline, her grandfather had followed her.

“I thought you said they would be broken up by the time I got back!” Lila shouted on the other end of the phone.

“Well that was the hope,” Caroline voiced back, “Usually he’s with them for a few months to a year—but Marilyn’s just…ugh I can’t even explain so it surprises me she’s lasted this long.”

“Well now she’s looking to become our stepmom! You have to get mom here to San Diego so we can stop them!”

“No way I’ve barely had time with her, Lila,” Caroline argued. For five minutes the twins go back and forth before ultimately hanging up. When Caroline rose from the bench she bumped into the gentleman behind her, “Oh I’m sorry, sir.” The man turned around, the familiar face staring back causing her stomach to drop. “Oh boy.”

“Oh boy,” he repeated, tsking. “How about we take a walk while the fresh air is nice?” Coming clean, Caroline told her grandfather everything from the day she arrived at camp to the day she left as Lila. Thankfully he wasn’t angry, in fact the man was overjoyed at the news.

Now it was time to come clean to the rest of the family.

The next morning Caroline was pacing in front of Y/n’s office before knocking on the door and waited for her to respond. “Come in.” Looking over the edge of her computer, the woman smiled at her daughter. “Hey darlin’, I’m almost done with this paragraph. What do you say about us going to that gyro place you like for lunch?”

“Mom,” Caroline fidgeted with her fingers. “I need to talk to you.” When Y/n continued to type, she said with an edge in her voice, “Right now. Please.”

Taken aback by the tone, Y/n saved the document and closed out before standing from her chair. “What is it, Lila?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” seeing her confusion, Caroline’s eyes glistened. “Lila.”

“Yessss? That’s the name I gave you the day you were born.”

“N-no!” Caroline finally snapped. “That’s not the one you gave me, mom.” That had Y/n puzzled, looking at her daughter with wide eyes. Lip quivering, the teen finally came clean, unable to hold it any longer. “I’m not Lila.”

At first Y/n didn’t seem to react, until a soft gasp left her as the look of absolute shock took over her expression. Her eyes filled with water, hands beginning to shake, “You’re…You’re Caroline?”

“Yes,” she nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You and dad sent Lila and I to the same camp. We met there and….well I just really wanted to meet you a-and Lila really wanted to meet dad and please don’t be angry with us, I—.” The teenager was cut off by the sob Y/n let out as she took her in her arms.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Y/n cried, letting 13 years of pent up regret, sadness, and shame finally release. “Oh Caroline.” The teen’s arms wrapped around her waist, nuzzling her face into her chest as her own tears spilled. Finally it felt like a weight had been lifted off both their shoulders. Mother and daughter reunited. “I can’t believe It’s actually you—my sweet girl.”

A tearful reunion even had Ollie emotional, the author being consoled by Y/n’s father in the doorway along with her mother. “I-I’ve never been so happy in my life. O-oh my gosh this is the best day ever!” As he cried, Y/n’s father gave her a heartfelt look before gently closing the door to allow them some privacy.

“No offense, mom—well actually slight offense,” Caroline said after explaining the situation of why the twins switched places—keeping out the fact they were planning to reunite the adults in hopes of the two getting back together. “But this whole thing was not it. I mean, c’mon, were you ever gonna tell us?”

Y/n looked deeply ashamed, wiping away at her face constantly, “I know it was wrong of us. Believe me I’ve regretted it every second since the day I left. Keeping you two apart was the worst thing we did and I hope you girls can forgive us. I let my personal issues with your father get in the way—a-and I should've never left you behind. You have every right to be angry,” Y/n paused to grab a tissue. “I honestly hoped to tell you two one day—possibly when you two were sixteen, but then I just didn’t know how to approach that after keeping it hidden so long.”

Caroline took it all in, asking the next question. “So what now?”

Y/n sighed, “Well legally you’re supposed to be with your father, and Lila with me. So we’ve gotta get you back to him. Then we go from there,” she placed her hands on Caroline’s shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to her head, “But I promise you no more secrets. And I’m not letting you go again, honey. We’ll get everything under control.”

Packing for California had Y/n a damn mess. She didn’t know what to wear and went through several options before settling on a fashionable white dress that would do well with the California heat. The sight of her was quite entertaining for Ollie, but was doing his best to offer moral support because she was really starting to lose it.

“What the hell am I supposed to say when I see him?” Y/n waved her free hand. She had sunglasses on her face and curlers in her hair with a glass of wine in one hand as she threw random stuff into a suitcase. “It’s been nearly thirteen years, Ollie. And our last day married was anything but a good parting! I-I mean I know nothing about him except from what Caroline has told me.” A warm feeling flared in her chest. “She says he’s still got that damn 80s stache—gosh what that did to me when I was with him. Only he could make a girl weak in the knees sporting something most men look horrid in.”

“Sounds like he could still make you weak in the knees, babe,” the comment resulted in a glare. “Look, you’re thinking too much alright? Just take a breather and think about the girls. This is for them at the end of the day.”

“I know,” Y/n rubbed her face, downing the last bit of wine in her glass. “Ollie, darling, I can’t go about this on my own. Will you—.”

“Accompany you to sunny California to keep you sane as you embark on this journey of reuniting with your former sexy pilot lover?” At her nod he winks and pulls out his phone showcasing his boarding pass. “Already got it booked, babe. Maybe I’ll find my own Romeo on this trip. Lord knows I have a thing for surfers and skaters—but there's a difference between New York skaters and California ones. I should know…I’ve dated both.”

When asked if she had talked with her father, Caroline subtly lied, “Oh yeah I just got off with him. Says they have our rooms reserved at the Hilton Resort in Palm Springs. He’s excited to see you.”

“He is?” Y/n raises a brow, not finding it believable, and trying to contain the flutter in her stomach. “Well, we should be on the way then. Sweetie, could you check us into our flights while I help Ollie pack the Uber?”

The man trailed after Caroline with a cheeky look, whispering under his breath so only she could hear, “liar, liar, pants on fire.” Caroline spun around to see her mom was turned the other way, bringing a finger to her lips with a wink, “shuuuush!”

When Lila brought the idea up for her and Rooster to go to Palm Springs for the weekend, the plan did not include bringing Marilyn and her parents. Thankfully Phoenix, Hangman, and Charlie tagged along too. The couple was in on the plan and only ones to know besides Lila that Y/n was just a few short hours away from arriving. They timed it so when she and Caroline landed at the airport, they’d already be checked in and waiting at the resort.

“Be warned,” the text from Caroline appeared on the phone. “Mom is DRUNK. She had two cocktails on the plane and had us stop at a liquor store to get some mini airplane bottles.”

“Oh no,” Lila moaned, causing Nat and Jake to look at her in question while Rooster was busy meeting Marilyn’s parents for the first time. She showed them the text, both reacting the same, “This is gonna be interesting.”

Charlie started to whimper, picking up a familiar scent and pulling Lila across the lobby with the couple chasing after them. Meanwhile in the elevator, Y/n remembered she left her purse on the counter. “Crap, I forgot my bag,” she giggled, stopping the closing door and moving as fast as her heels and disoriented state could take her. While she was busy gathering her lost item, Lila came around the corner with Charlie, the dog barking at the sight of Caroline in the elevator.

“Charlie!” She squealed, the animal bolting from Lila’s grasp and into the elevator before it could close. The twins connected eyes just as the door shut, Lila mentally cursing though she couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in her.

“Oh shit,” Jake mumbled with wide eyes, pulling Natasha to the side right when Y/n approached.

“Mom!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me, sweet girl, I can find the room by myself,” Lila literally had to step away from her Y/n, who had yet to realize it was Lila giving the twins decided on wearing similar outfits. She reeked of alcohol. Caroline wasn’t kidding when she warned her their mother was drunk off her ass. Besides the smell and her slight slurring words, Y/n was having trouble keeping her eyes open, “You go on up, okay? I’m gonna check out the bar real quick—have a glass of water while I’m at it.” As Y/n went to walk away she turned around with a tilt of her head, “I like that jacket by the way—were you wearing that on the plane?”

“Mom, watch out!” Lila shouted as Nat gasped with her when Y/n nearly collided with the bellboy.

“Oh goodness,” was all the author had to say, giving an embarrassed glance to her daughter before turning the corner away from their sights. Jake couldn't help but laugh, Nat holding back her own as she and Lila stared at each other in disbelief.

“The one time she should be sober and she’s completely wasted!” Lila exclaimed with a laugh at the end. “I’ve only ever seen her have one glass of wine at dinner—now she’s looking to run the bar dry.”

Phoenix shook her head with a smile, “Yeah well let her have her fun before all hell breaks loose.” Guiding Lila to the elevator, they all head to the floor where their rooms were.

Meanwhile Rooster and Marilyn had the same idea.

Attached to his arm, the woman was on a rant about what she thought was best for the lavish wedding she desired. Rooster just smiled and nodded, allowing the blonde to have creative control since he had no idea what to say. His first wedding was at a courthouse, nothing extravagant.

“Alone at last,” She hummed in relief, lips going to his neck as she giggled while his arms went around her waist. Bradley mirrored her expression, only it soon went to one of absolute shock when his gaze landed on the woman he never thought he’d see again.

Y/n was in front of him, looking like an angel in white as she stopped short in front of the elevator when they locked eyes. A hesitant smile appeared on her lips, hand coming up to wave as Bradley started to lean away from Marilyn as the doors shut, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

But no, his ex-wife was really there.

“Bradley?” Y/n heard the blonde’s voice just as the doors closed, the last thing she saw could best be described was her ex-husband looking at her like she was an actual ghost. Like he didn’t expect her to be there at all.

That put the pieces together.

“Caroline Bradshaw!” Y/n strutted down the hallway, halting when the doors of both rooms opened and the girls appeared before her. With the two sporting similar looks and the same haircut it was difficult to tell who was who. A headache was forming in Y/n’s head from the alcohol, the woman moaning, “Please don’t do this—I-I’m already seeing double.” The teen on her left smiled.

“It’s me, Mom. Lila.”

“Oh darlin’!” the author exclaimed, moving to hug her daughter and place a kiss on her head. “You look wonderful. My goodness this is the happiest day of my life,” she opened her arm to bring Caroline into the hug. “Both of my girls!” Then Y/n remembered what brought her to the floor, “Not to ruin the happy moment, but I’d really appreciate it if you explained why you blindsided me.”

All of a sudden Nat and Jake appeared from the suite Lila was in. “Hi,” Nat glanced down the hall before smiling at the author. “Sorry to break this up, but might I suggest we move this discussion inside.” Coming over to the doorway of Caroline’s room, the two extended an arm to the trio. The girls entered first, and as Y/n followed behind Nat added, “Hi, you probably don’t remember us--.”

“Natasha! Jake!” Both were given a friendly kiss to the cheek, Y/n pleased to see them again after so many years. They looked at each other with a smirk when she entered the suite, “I knew I always liked her.”

Once inside Y/n threw her bag onto the armchair, “Spill it!” She pointed to her daughters sitting on the ottoman, beginning to pace in front of the couch. “Though I’m not sure which one of you told me your father knew I was arriving today, I can assure you that the man I just saw in the lobby had no clue his ex-wife would be in the same state—let alone the same hotel.”

The twins looked at each other, Lila frowning, “You saw dad?”

“Yes I did,” the woman signed, dropping onto the couch. “And gosh if I didn’t know any better he lost his spray tan because of how pale he went at the sight of me. Like I was Casper the not-so-friendly ghost.” Wincing, the author requested a cold compress for her head, Lila jumping up to get one for her. “I’ve wondered for so many years what it would be like to see your father again, but him wrapped around another woman’s arms while I stood there waving like an idiot was not what I had in mind.”

At that moment Ollie struts in with sunglasses on his face and shirt opened to reveal his chest, whistling before stopping short at the sight of his ashen best friend. “You look horrendous.”

“Thanks, Ollie,” she muttered sarcastically.”

“Why the lone face, babe?” He bids a glance to the couple entering the picture, mentally thinking how hot they looked together after Y/n introduces them all.

“I’m currently investigating why my daughters felt the need to leave out the fact their father had no idea I was coming today.”

“Oh,” his eyes went wide, slowly starting to back away along with Nat and Jake, both wearing the same expression as him. “Well in that case imma just head to the pool.”

“We’ll join you—that sounds like a great idea,” Nat says in a rush, the three turning to run but were stopped short by Y/n’s, “Hold on a second!” They slowly turn back around, biting their lips.

“Are you all keeping something from me?” Y/n looks between the three before her attention is directed to Lila’s soft voice.

“Mom, dad’s engaged…...” The news has Y/n slowly fall back to the couch, her shoulders dropping while her heart clenches. She doesn’t know why she’s so disappointed.

Actually she does know why. It’s the reason she can’t bring herself to love another person no matter how much she opens up to them.

“And she’s horrible, mom. The wicked witch of the west!”

“I met her before camp and she was so rude to me when he wasn’t paying attention,” Caroline voiced. “I thought he’d have ended things already but for some God awful reason he’s still with her.”

“We can’t let him go through with it, mom,” Lila adds with determination, “He’ll regret it for the rest of his life. And well…the only way he won’t is if he sees you again.”

Y/n can’t help but make a sound of disbelief. “Wait a moment,” she nervously laughs, sitting up straighter, “are you trying to set me up with your father?”

“Yes,” they echo together.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Caroline says followed by Lila shouting, “You two are perfect for each other!”

“Girls—stop right there!” Y/n exclaims when the three adults try to sneak out. “Did you all know about this?”

“Whaaaaat?” Ollie scoffs, trying to play it off but Y/n knows him better than that. Jake and Nat were also denying it but the author’s knowing look made all three come clean.

“Okay I had some knowledge.”

“We sorta had an idea—call it a hunch.”

“It was just so sweet and sounded like a good idea—.”

Y/n falls backward onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh, “Lord have mercy.” She found herself in the hotel bar twenty minutes later with an ice water and some concoction she requested for her hangover. To her side she noticed a pretty blonde lady take a seat and order a gin martini. “Here’s to….” She inspected the drink with a frown before saluting the blonde, “here’s to you. Hopefully your life is not as complicated as mine.”

The lady gave a tight smile, “Thank you.”

God the drink smelled horrible, tasting exactly like something no one would drink unless it was the only source of hydration. Groaning, Y/n downed the contents in three gulps just wanting to get it over with, covering her mouth with a hand when it felt like it would come back up. “Excuse me,” she mumbled when an unpleasant sound escaped, resulting in the blonde giving a look of distaste. “I would not wish this upon my worst enemy.”

“Here’s you bill, Ms. L/n,” the bartender placed the receipt on the table for her signature.

“Thank you,” she quickly scribbled her name and passed it back along with a few bills for a tip, the blonde getting a good glance at it causing her eyes to go wide.

“You’re Y/n L/n?”

Taken aback, the author nodded shyly. “Yes.” She received a squeal from the woman.

“Oh my gosh! I was just reading your latest novel on the drive here!” She moved to the seat right next to Y/n. “And my agent told me about auditions coming up for the adaptation of your ‘Bridesmaids Chronicles’ series. Ah it’s fate!” Extending a hand, the blonde introduces herself, “I’m Marilyn Brooks.”

Over by the poolside Rooster approaches another woman resembling his ex-wife, muttering an apology when he sees it’s not her and bumps into almost every person he passes, “Sorry.”

“There you are, Bradley!” Marilyn’s father comes up to him while her mother takes his arm.

“Bradley, this resort is just beautiful. Don’t you think it’s perfect for the wedding?”

“I do,” he adjusts his collar, voice turning soft when his eyes cut across the pool to the woman descending the stairs. A smile appeared on his face, “Absolutely.”

It was her.

Anything Marilyn’s mother said went in one ear and out the other, the navy pilot excusing himself with an apology as he began to make his way around the pool. “Excuse me—sorry,” he dodged a man carrying towels before doing the same to another guest. “S-sorry,” his eyes stayed on Y/n, who was walking and taking in the scenery.

Not paying attention, Rooster stumbled over a cooler, which happened to be Jake’s. The two were seated on the beach chairs with Lila and Charlie, Ollie just off to the side looking flabbergasted as he took in his best friend’s ex. Nat looked at him in concern behind her sunglasses, “Bradshaw, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he turns to her briefly, causing him to collide with a pool boy,

“Sir!”

“Dad, watch out!” Lila’s shout had Y/n turn, gasping when she witnessed her ex-husband fall straight into the pool. Nat, Lila, and Ollie all gasped with her while Jake just took his phone out to video the whole thing. Y/n had to turn away when Rooster began swimming to the side she was on, ignoring all the looks he was receiving by his little spectacle.

The poor pilot was completely drenched head to toe. Y/n fidgeted as he approached, both smiling at each other nervously.

“Hey, Y/n/n.”

“Hello, Roo.”

Wiping at the water dripping from his eyebrow, Rooster moved closer causing a warm feeling to erupt in Y/n’s chest. Gosh he had changed—of course it had been 13 years, but Lord did he have to get even more attractive? And that damn mustache had her weak in the knees but thankfully she remained composed. “It’s good to see you.”

Getting straight to it, Bradley gave her a look once over, “It’s good to see you too….but is there something I’m missing here? You don’t seem too shocked to see me as I am to see you.” Squeezing the water from his shirt, “I mean it’s been thirteen years and—.”

“Dad,” a soft voice interrupts him, Rooster stunned when he sees who believes is Caroline standing beside Y/n. “I can explain why she’s here.”

“Caroline,” he says with caution, briefly glancing at the woman to see her reaction, “you know who this is?”

“I do.” She allows her natural accent to flow, “And actually, dad, I’m not Caroline….”

Coming on Y/n’s other side, Caroline grins at her father. “Hey, pops.”

The best word to describe Bradley’s face was astonishment and pure happiness. “Both of them?” He looks at the girl he came to the resort with, eyes shining a bit with the emotion filling him, “Lila?” Then he looks at her twin, “Caroline?”

“I’m not sure if it’s fate or you both just picked the most random summer camp to send your daughters too….but we met there and it wasn’t too hard to piece it together. You know besides looking identical there was the same birthday detail and the fact we were raised by one parent.”

“They switched places on us, Bradley,” Y/n put her arm around Caroline, beaming down at her.

Rooster looked at her stunned, but smiling nonetheless. “W-what? You mean I had Lila this whole time?”

“Well I wanted to know what you were like, and Caroline wanted to know mom—are you angry?”

He answered her with a big hug, “Oh darlin’ of course not,” he kissed the side of her head, not wanting to let her go. “I’m so happy—I can’t believe it’s you!” Pulling away he ran a hand over her cheek, in complete awe of her. “It’s been so long—you were so small the last time I saw you.”

“Well I’m all grown up now….and quite without a father,” she pulls away from him to stand next to Caroline.

“And I’m about to head into high school, where I’ll be one of the few to not relate to other girls arguing with their mother on the daily,” Y/n shakes her head with a chuckle at Caroline’s words.

“Care, you’ve been in New York this whole time?” At her nod he opens his arms, “C’mere kiddo.” After their hug Y/n politely requests a moment with Bradley, the teenagers giving sly looks as they walk away.

“No problem…take your time.”

The two take a seat on one of the beach chairs, Y/n asking for a first aid kit when she notices a cut to his forehead. As she tends to him, Rooster goes, “Jesus, both of them together? Wow, I can’t believe it—this is unreal,” he then raises a brow, “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday morning,” she explained softly, gently wiping away the blood before dabbing it with rubbing alcohol. She apologizes when he winces. “My father figured it out the other night. Honestly I’m ashamed I didn’t suspect anything—I just thought Lila had come out of her shell after camp when she was thrilled to come to my meetings where there’d be new people. And before you ask, Caroline told me you knew I was coming. Obviously, we were both deceived.”

“Talk about karma,” Rooster chuckles, not shy of calling them out on what they did wrong. “We kinda deserve it.”

“I do,” she corrects with a tight smile. “It was my idea after all.”

“Yeah,” he leaned closer, connecting their eyes, “but I didn’t stop it from happening, Y/n/n.” Seeing her hand falter at the name, Rooster tilts his head, “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” she nervously laughs, turning away to grab a bandaid. “Uh—I-I haven’t heard that name in awhile.”

“Do you not like it anymore?”

“No, no! I do like it. My dad still calls me it from time to time,” she says, putting the bandaid on his forehead. “I guess it just feels different.”

“I get it,” he nods, offering a small smile. When she wasn’t looking he unconsciously let his eyes take her in for the first time. “You look good, Y/n/n.” That was a lie, she looked incredible. Like an actual angel before him with her white dress and soft curls.

Before she could respond Marilyn appeared, causing the two to jump back when they realized how close they were. Rooster went a little red while Y/n scratched the back of her neck.

“Finally there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” The blonde said in relief, smile dropping slightly when she sees her fiancé with the renowned author, “Oh good you two met. Brad, this is the author of the series I was telling you about—the one I’m auditioning for….umm am I missing something?”

Glancing between the two, Y/n felt her heart sink at the realization the lady she met in the bar was the same woman she saw Bradley with in the elevator. His fiancé….who was in for the shock of her life when it was revealed not only were they married, but his daughter was a twin.

“Hey, Mare, great to see you again. I’m the Caroline you met at the beginning of summer. This is my twin, Lila. I was pretending to be her while she was pretending to be me,” she points to her sister before extending a hand to Y/n, voice full of pride. “And this is our mother, Y/n L/n.”

Everyone should have expected disaster to happen at some point in the weekend. The ex-wife, who Bradley may have had feelings for still, and the fiancé—who was keeping a secret of her own.

One that the girls discovered when they snatched her phone.

That night after the stunning reunion, the girls schemed their way into recreating the night their parents met. With the help of Jake, Nat, and Ollie, the group got Sonic milkshakes, Route 44s, and some food for the pair who they ordered to follow them to where they parked Rooster’s Bronco overlooking the beach.

“Clever girls,” Y/n chuckled, popping a tater tot in her mouth. “You see what they’re doing, right?”

“I do,” he laughed with her, “not a bad job if I must say. Though, we’re missing all the discarded baseball gear and beer cans.”

For about an hour the two talked in between bites of food. When the topic of their breakup came up, both tried to hide their regret as to not let the other see how it still affected them.

“It was your hairdryer,” Bradley said when Y/n asked if she had hurt him when she threw the object at him, unsure of what it was since the moment was a blur to her now. “Clipped me in the arm.”

Y/n looked away in embarrassment, though she did remind him of why she threw it, which then had the pilot frown in shame.

“But look at you now. New York Times Bestselling author, just like you wanted. It’s amazing, Y/n. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile. “It’s still surreal. And as much as I hate to admit it, it feels like it wouldn’t have happened had I stayed—even though I regret it.”

“You do?” he turned in his seat, tone unreadable though his eyes showed a different story. She didn’t look at him when she replied.

“I always had some regret. But because my dream came true I thought it was meant to happen. Leaving was the only way I could get it done. Then after discovering it was Caroline with me it all hit me full blast….I hurt her more than anything—and Lila. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. Now it feels like everything that happened after that day wasn’t worth it because I lost a piece of myself.” Y/n sighs, looking up at the stars, “I was just so angry with you and by what that officer said. It felt like no one believed in me and in turn why should I believe in myself. So I did the only thing I could think of….and I packed.”

Turning to face Rooster, a solemn gaze took over, “And you…didn’t come after me.”

Rooster didn’t know what to say other than, “I thought you didn’t want me too.” He was astonished by her confession, thinking how everything could’ve been different had he listened to his brain screaming at him.

“Oh well,” she sipped her drink, “It doesn’t matter now. The past is the past. Let’s just put on a happy face for the girls and I’ll be out of your hair again.”

The rest of the night Rooster couldn’t think straight. While Y/n made the arrangements for what they should do about the twins, he just nodded and agreed. All he could think about was how he let her go and regretted it everyday since. Even when they arrived back at the hotel to their separate rooms he went to bed with the image of Y/n as the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.

Y/n was checking out of the hotel when Rooster approached the counter. “So I’ll book Caroline’s flights for December and April.”

“And I’ll do the same for Lila in the summer,” she nodded, placing her bill from the concierge in her bag. When the girls arrived moments later, both parents were speechless by their matching outfits. “Girls, what is this?”

“Well, mom, we sorta came to an agreement. And we don’t feel like parting ways just yet.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n tilted her head at the teen who spoke. She thought it was Lila, but then again the woman wasn’t sure. They were hiding their necklaces to not give away who was who. “Lila, we don’t have time for this. Our plane leaves in four hours and I have a meeting with my publishers tomorrow.”

“Cancel them,” the other told her, making Y/n’s mouth part while Rooster’s eyes went wide.

“Caroline.”

“Yes,” they both answered.

Now the adults were becoming frustrated. “Girls, this is not funny. You’re gonna make your mother miss her flight—now stop this charade and tell us who is who.”

“Mannnn that’s pretty sad, huh,” the twin on the left voiced, “Can’t even tell your own daughters apart.” She received stern looks from her parents.

Going up to them Rooster leans down, putting his hands on his hips as he tries to tell them apart. Pointing a finger at the twin on the right, he smirks, “this is Caroline. I know that smirk anywhere.”

“Are you sure, dad?” the other twin says, plastering an identical smug expression. “You wouldn’t want to send the wrong twin to New York now?”

“Here’s what we want,” the one directly in front of Rooster states, “We want to go to Penny’s end of summer bash at the Hard Deck tomorrow night—you know, the one that happens every year. We go as a family, and once we do then we will say who’s Lila and who’s Caroline.”

Both parents look at each other flabbergasted. Then Y/n threatens, “Or I take one of you with me back to New York, regardless of who you are and that’s the end of it. Sounds good?” Nothing came of it, however, when Y/n pouted as she sat in the passenger seat of the rental car Ollie was driving until they made it to San Diego. Phoning Yolanda, her meeting was rescheduled and her flight was booked for Monday morning. They got lodging at an airbnb and settled for the night with both girls staying with Y/n on the promise they will stay with Bradley after the party.

Marilyn was not happy with the news of them staying an extra day. Having to deal with one daughter was one thing, but both twins had her head spinning. There was already high tensions with the teenagers, now throwing the ex-wife into the mix made things difficult for Marilyn when she was battling for Bradley’s attention. Not to mention all of Rooster’s friends didn’t like her.

Nerves raked the author when they arrived at the Hard Deck. It was her first time at the establishment and the only people she knew coming in were Nat and Jake. Ollie tagged along thankfully but then he was distracted by the adorableness that was Lt. Robert Floyd. Both girls dragged Y/n to all of Rooster’s friends, introducing the author with pride that made her chest warm.

“Oh hey guys,” Caroline giggled when the squad’s eyes bulged out at the sight of the three. “It’s me Caroline—the actual Caroline. That over there,” she points to her twin wearing a similar outfit only it was a Rolling Stones t-shirt and not The Beatles, “is my twin Lila, who y’all have been hanging out with the last two weeks. And this is our mom, Y/n L/n. Can’t believe dad fumbled such a bag.”

“Caroline,” Y/n scolded with a shake of the head, smiling when each of the guys introduced themself. “It’s nice to meet you all, the girls have told me all about you.”

“Wish we could say the same, ma’am,” Fanboy laughs, “We only know you from when Rooster gets drunk off his ass. Loose lips you know.” Y/n felt flustered by the comment, realizing Rooster still thought of her even after everything that happened.

Penny treated the author with a warm welcome, as did Maverick who both were surprised to see each other. “Oh my gosh, you’re Pete! You guys…you two rekindled?”

“We did,” he blushes, “took some time but it worked out. I’ve heard all about you, Y/n,” he gives an awkward shake of the shoulders, “He…told me everything about a year ago when it was the girls’ birthday.”

Everything seemed to be going well until the twins overheard Marilyn speaking ill of their mother. “She’s being a snake and you know it, Bradley! Ever since she got here there’s been an ulterior motive—and I bet you those kids are in on it,” she pointed a finger with a hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous, Marilyn,” Rooster’s tone takes another edge. “She hasn’t even spoken to me the entire night except to greet us when we arrived.”

“She doesn’t have to talk! It’s all in the looks and smiles! She’s a fucking romance author—of course she knows what to do to get someone’s attention. That’s how sad and desperate she is.”

By now Caroline had enough, bringing everyone’s attention to the scene when she yells, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” In her peripheral vision she sees Y/n, Nat, and Penny stand from their seats, moving closer to where they were.

Rooster gives a warning look, “honey, this doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” She ignores his disapproving eyes. “How dare she talk about mom like that?! You’re gonna let her speak about her that way—about the woman who gave birth to us?”

Lila steps up, glaring at the blonde, “Instead of worrying about mom, she should be worrying about who’s blowing up her phone wanting to know when to meet at the motel tonight.” They watch as all the color drains from Marilyn’s face. Rooster turns to his fiancé, confused and demanding an answer.

“What is she talking about?”

“I-I—she’s. Bradley, there’s nothing—.”

Caroline cuts her off, “Who’s Colonel Mustard?” Again Marilyn goes pale, though there’s anger in her eyes. “What a code name, Mare. I guess I better refer to his actual name, you know. Does the name Admiral Patrick Cross ring a bell?” She mocks, “oh yeah, he’s dad’s married boss at Top Gun and she’s been sending naked pictures to him all weekend.”

Gasps sounded all around, Ollie, Nat and Penny slapping a hand to their mouth where the squad and Mav all went, “oh shit!” Y/n looked at her daughters stunned before glancing at Bradley to see his reaction. The man was in disbelief, staring at Marilyn with unreadable eyes.

The blonde saw red. “You little bitch!” Before she could stop herself her hand came up and slapped the teen across the face, leaving a nice print in its wake along with a scratch from when her fake nail dragged against the skin.

Now Y/n saw red. Literally Kill Bill alarms blaring.

Marilyn screamed when her jaw snapped to the side full force from the impact of Y/n’s fist. The author had pulled her by the hair to turn her around, nearly ripping out her extensions. Blood coated Marilyn’s mouth, and a tooth even fell out by how hard Y/n had punched her. Before another blow could be landed the woman was pulled back, fighting against the hold from Ollie and Nat, “Touch my daughter again and see what fucking happens bitch—I’ll cut your fucking eye out!” While she was being dragged to the back patio to prevent from committing a crime, Marilyn ran out the front door with Rooster chasing after her.

Tears in their eyes the twins raced to their mom. When they got outside they saw her shaking the first that was no doubt throbbing. Ollie was trying to talk her down, all while complimenting how badass she was. “Oh honey,” she saw Caroline, moving to hold her. Telling Penny to bring out two ice packs, the woman brushed her uninjured hand against the teen’s cheek. It flared her anger more, wishing she could go beat the shit out of that cunt. “My sweet girl, are you okay?

“I’m fine, mom,” Caroline whimpered, sniffing when Y/n wiped the tear that fell. Her face stung and there would likely be a mark but she didn’t care. All she could feel was warmth and happiness by how her mom stood up for her. Looking at her first, the teen frowned at the discoloration. “Are you okay?”

Penny came out with the ice packs, handing one to Y/n and Caroline. “I’m fine—at least right now because my adrenaline is pumping. Give me a few more minutes and I could be in debilitating pain but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Glancing over the deck, Y/n’s face fell slightly. “Where’s your father?”

“He went after the witch,” Lila said with distaste. Caroline mirrored her expression, both twins disappointed with Rooster. The reaction had Y/n take a deep breath, controlling the anger rising which nearly snapped when the man slid open the doors of the patio and walked toward them.

“Not now, Bradley.”

“Y/n, listen to me—.”

“You went after her, dad,” Caroline sniffed, glaring up at him. “What the hell?”

“Not in the way you think, honey,” he leaned down to cup her face, careful of the mark. It was taking everything in him to remain composed. Just moments before when he was ending things with his now ex-fiancé, Rooster had to remember she was a woman and not to lose it even though she had just laid her hands on his daughter. Had she been a man….well there would be an ambulance called. “I only went after her to tell her to get her crap out of the house and expect charges for assault to be on her doorstep.”

Now that had them speechless. “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And I’m so sorry,” he kissed her forehead, moving to hug her and opening his arm for Lila to join. “Thank you both for what you did. I owe you two for saving me.” He feels them laugh against his chest, the pilot lifting his gaze to settle on Y/n. She has a smile on her face, blushing when they look eyes. At her wince he notices her hand was now black and blue. “You should get that looked at.”

“Oh It’s fine—,” she tried to deflect but he wouldn’t have it.

“That looks broken, Y/n,” he gently moves the girls to the side so he can inspect it. The woman makes a pained sound when his fingers try to turn it. “Yeah, we’re going to urgent care right now.”

“Bradley—.”

“No excuses. Girls, let’s go.” He almost wanted to laugh at the pout on Y/n’s face, hauling her to the Bronco before speeding off to the nearest urgent care. The entire way she tried saying she was fine, but the pained expression every time she moved her hand in the slightest gave away that she was in fact not fine. The girls couldn't help but giggle at the way the adults were bickering. Like they were still married.

With a diagnosed fracture and cast on her wrist, Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach when they returned to the beach house for the girls to get their things. They would spend the final night at Rooster’s before Y/n and Ollie would pick Lila up in the morning in time for their flight. While the girls were upstairs, Y/n and Bradley sat on the deck, neither not knowing what to say.

“What time do you take off?”

“A quarter till nine,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the waves in front of her. She felt him come to her side, so close she smelled his cologne that if she closed her eyes, it would put her back in 2006. “It’s a straight shot thankfully—no layovers.”

“That’s good,” he muttered, head spinning with a million things he wanted to say but couldn’t form the words. Part of him just wanted to confess he still loved her. That he never stopped. That they should try to kick things back off. But then he thought about how their lives went. Here he was a Top Gun instructor in San Diego, and she was a bestselling author in New York.

Rooster thought of her stories. He read every single one on the market the day they dropped, feeling the heartbreak in him every time he flipped through the pages of her second novel that he knew was loosely based on their story. He remembered crying at the end when he finished it the first time. It was the only one without a happy ending.

All the books were hidden in his closet, but at least once a year Rooster would pick up one and read the beautiful words Y/n wrote. He was so proud of her, but didn’t know how to say it.

“Roo—.”

“Y/n/n—.” Both chuckled nervously when they tried speaking at the same time.

“You go,” she insisted. Wiping a sweating hand on his pants, Rooster took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “For what I said to you that night. And for not standing up for you like I should have,” his face was full of regret. “I was more worried about my job than you—a-and it was wrong of me to do so. I made you feel like your talent wasn’t worthy, that you’d never make it as an author and I’m so fucking sorry for saying that. You are an amazing writer and you deserve everything that has come from it. Your books are incredible, Y/n. Every one of them.”

Y/n feels her throat tighten, voice going small, “Y-you—you’ve read them?”

“Every single one,” he confesses, making her whimper slightly by the emotion erupting in her chest. “On their release day. And I read them in one sitting.”

Y/n’s heart was soaring. Never did she think he’d read her books, let alone buy them the day they came out. His confession was making it harder for her to let him go again. “Roo…” she whispers, eyes glistening as he moves closer to her.

They stared at each other for a moment. No words came out but in their looks was everything they needed to know. The love they thought had left years ago resurfaced in just a few days.

Right as it looked like Rooster was about to lean down, the sound of a car filled their ears, causing Y/n to drop her head. “That would be Ollie.” Rooster nods, disappointment filling him as he slowly backs away to enter the house, but not before giving her one last look to see her wiping her eyes. Y/n gives the twins a kiss on the head before waving goodbye when they leave. Now that he was home, Ollie wanted to know everything he missed—jaw dropping when Y/n admitted they nearly kissed.

“Why didn’t you!?’

“Because, Ollie!” She says dramatically, “four hours ago the man was engaged and may I remind you, we’ve been broken up for over a decade. Why the hell would I let him kiss me when there is no chance something would come out of it.”

“You don’t know that, Y/n,” Ollie comes around the kitchen island, wine glass in hand. “Look, you may not have seen it but my eyes know what I saw this whole weekend. And it was a man who wants to sweep you off your feet and take you to the nearest chapel.”

“Ollie—.”

“Did you not see his reaction when you clocked that bitch? My God it looked like he was about to pop a semi.” Y/n put her free hand to her face, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The whole moment at the bar was a blur to her from the moment she saw that wrench put her hand on Caroline. It was all a haze until she was outside dealing with a throbbing hand. Barely did Y/n look at Rooster, she was focused on her daughter.

“Noooo, I did not see his reaction, Ollie. I was too busy dealing with the fact I was about to commit bloody murder.”

“Well I can assure, babe, that your sexy pilot of an ex was wanting to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed. After of course making sure sweet Caroline was okay.” Setting down his wine glass, he gives her a stern look, “Tell me the truth, do you still love him?”

“It’s complicated—.”

“It’s a yes or no, Y/n.”

“What exactly do you want me to say,” she threw her hand out, “that yes I’m still hopelessly hung over him and wish I could go back and time to stop myself from leaving? That seeing him this weekend made me feel like a twenty-two year old girl again? That I have envisioned everyday since Caroline told me about the switch, that maybe we could pick things off where we left?” They were all rhetoric questions, Ollie allowing her to rant as tears threatened her eyes. “Of course I do—to all of the above. But this isn't one of my books, Ollie, this is real life—a-and his life is here while mine is in New York. I don’t want to leave that and how should I expect him to leave all of what he has built here for me?” Sniffing, Y/n looks away with a hand to her chin, whispering, “It’s why I left in the first place.”

The rest of the night the two packed the rental car so it was ready for the morning and watched cheesy rom-coms since neither could really sleep. They got maybe four hours on the couch, but soon their alarm woke them up to start the day. Y/n called Lila to make sure she was awake and ready before showering herself, putting on a simple outfit for the flight.

It was a heartfelt goodbye when they arrived at Roosters home. Caroline held onto Y/n for almost five minutes, the woman promising to call her everyday so she could hear how the teens' day. They spoke of excitement for the holidays with Y/n promising to take her and Lila skating around the big tree and to celebrate New Year’s in Time Square. Not too far from them Lila was held by Rooster, the teen lightly crying when they pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He tells her, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Maybe sooner than you think, Lila darlin’.” She doesn’t think much of the comment, only nodding up at him before embracing Caroline when approaches. Together the girls walk to the car with the adults watching as Ollie gives a hug to Caroline.

“You take care of yourself, Y/n/n,” Rooster places a hand on her shoulder, “and hope you two have a safe flight.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, offering a tight smile. “And I will.” He surprises the author when his lips gently press against her forehead, squeezing her hand after it had fallen from her shoulder to hold it. They share one last look, Y/n nodding to him before walking up to the car. She and Caroline share one more embrace, Y/n kissing the teen’s head with Caroline shutting the door of the car behind her. Waving through the window, Y/n blows her a kiss as Ollie presses on the gas. Soon Rooster and Caroline grow smaller in the rear view mirror, the distance growing by the second until finally they disappear when they turn the corner onto the freeway.

On the plane Lila barely talks. She’s either nose deep in the book she bought at one of the airport shops, headphones in, or looking out the window with absolute silence. Y/n tries to have a conversation, but eventually gives up knowing her daughter needed some time. The only response she received when assuring Lila the holidays were around the corner was a sad nod. Within hours the sunny skies of California turn into gloomy clouds of New York. Rainfall greeted them as they stepped out of the airport, finding their Uber quickly to beat the afternoon rush. It took maybe an hour for them to get home from JFK, Y/n frowning when she saw Lila wipe a tear away.

Ollie was dropped off at his home first, waving to them with the promise of seeing them later for dinner. Dropping their stuff in the foyer, they call out to Y/n’s parents. “Mom? Dad?” “Gran? Grandpa?”

“I’ll check the study,” Y/n moves to the room her dad spent most of his day in. A smile appeared when she entered to see the morning’s newspaper in his hands.

Or so she thought was her dad’s hands.

Leaning against the door, Y/n spoke with a soft voice, “Hey, stranger, we’re back?”

The paper dropped to the desk, revealing a beaming Caroline in a flight suit sitting in the chair. Y/n’s jaw dropped, hand going to her chest. Caroline gave a cheeky look, “Hey, mom, did you know an F-18 can get you here in a quarter of the time compared to a commercial jet?”

All she could do was nod back slowly, feeling her heart pound against her chest. “Y-yes, I-I’ve heard. What—.” Upon her gasp when she saw Caroline, Lila raced into the study, matching the expression of her mother.

“Care! What are you doing here?”

The twin rose from the chair, “Hope you don’t mind us crashing in. But, it took us less than a minute after you guys left for us to realize we didn’t want to lose you both again.”

Y/n almost stumbled as she took a step into the study, “W-we?”

Caroline’s gaze drifted to the other entrance of the room, where Rooster appeared in his own flight suit, eyes locked on Y/n, “We.” He heard her make a sound, the hand on her chest going to her mouth. “My biggest regret was letting you walk away that day, Y/n. I’m not gonna make that mistake again. And I promise to never make you feel like you aren’t worthy of something—because you are worthy of everything you set your mind to. And I’m gonna make sure you know that everyday.”

Y/n started to feel the emotion bile in her throat, shaking her head slightly to stay strong. “A-and I suppose you just expect me to fall into your arms like I did all those years ago,” she saw a smile form on the corner of his lips, the man slowly moving closer to her with a knowing look. “And cry hysterically saying we can figure this whole thing out and have a long-distance relationship with our girls being raised here and there,” he continues to move closer, making Y/n’s heart pump faster. “—and we just pick up where we left off…with the promise of growing old together and…”

By now Rooster was directly in front of her, gaze full of love and adoration. She forgot what she was about to say, getting lost in his eyes, “oh come on, Roo. Is this supposed to be a happily ever after?”

“Yes,” he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks that were warm and damp. “To all of it, Y/n/n. You write happily ever afters for a living, now it’s time for you to have your own.” He smirks adding, “Except you don’t have to cry hysterically, baby.”

That nickname combined with the offer had the tears rolling down her cheeks, Y/n nodding weakly against his palms, “Oh yes I do.” The last word was met with his mouth pressed against hers, fireworks erupting all over her body. Letting her eyes flutter shut, Y/n’s hands moved to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, feeling Rooster smile causing her to do the same.

Behind them their daughters were holding back their squeals, Lila falling dramatically onto the sofa while Caroline leaned against the bookshelf, “I can’t believe we actually did it!” They eventually moved out of the study to allow the pair some privacy, all the while they never broke the kiss until needing air but kept their mouths close.

“Wait a moment,” she ran her hands along his flight suit, “Did you steal an F-18 so you could get here before me to come confess your love—and had our daughter in the backseat?”

He gives a shrug, grinning wide, “Maybe.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” She looks at him like he grew two heads. “And how does Caroline—.”

“Well actually Mav helped me out,” his arms went around her waist, pulling her against him. “We got special permission—so don’t worry I won’t be arrested anytime soon. As for Care, Fanboy and Bob have been teaching her a thing or two about being a backseater. I think she’s getting the hang of it.”

“Oh my lord,” Y/n closes her eyes before laughing at the whole situation. Rooster laughs with her, nuzzling his head into her neck. “You are an impossible man, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Only for you, Y/n L/n.

Six months later……

Y/n wiped the sweat from her forehead, pressing the enter button with a huff of victory. The glasses were removed from her face, leaning against the back of her chair to give her body the much needed stretch. When her arms extended out to relax the tense muscle, the diamond ring on her finger sparkled against the light. The sight made her smile, eyes going back to the words on the screen.

A knock on the door sounded seconds later, “Come in.” Gently opening, Rooster appeared with a mug of steaming coffee, his own wedding band reflecting as he shut the door. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” he winks, coming to put the mug on her coaster before leaning down to kiss her lips. “Lila called, the two are staying after school for a club meeting.” Y/n thanks him for the coffee, nodding at his words with a knowing look.

“I take it pizza is the move then tonight?”

Rooster chuckles, “Unless you want me to whip up some pasta, but I gotta warn you it’s not gonna be anywhere near what you get in town. Although not to toot my own horn, my spaghetti is pretty damn good. At least that’s what Caroline tells me.”

“Oh goodness, well I can eat anything at this point,” she sighs dramatically, “Or maybe we can tell them to meet us at Milo’s. I think a celebration is in order.” Rooster tilts his head confused, but then smiles at the word doc on the screen.

“You finished?”

“Yes,” she beams. “Well I finished the draft. I plan to edit it myself first before sending it off….but it’s done.”

“That’s amazing, baby,” he kisses her cheek, gesturing for her to get up so he could sit and have her in his lap. “I’m so proud of you. You got that done in a record time. Didn’t you just start that—not even a month ago?” Y/n nods shyly.

“I had a lot of inspiration. The words just flew out honestly—Yolanda is gonna have a field day.”

Rooster gets a glimpse of the last paragraph causing a smile to appear on his lips. Respecting her writer's privacy he didn’t ask much about the novel when she started writing it, only when she discussed it on her own terms. He could see the excitement in her eyes, warmth in his veins by how happy she was and couldn’t wait to read it when she finished. “May I ask what inspired this book, Y/n/n? Although, I do have a funny feeling.” Y/n didn’t have to answer, her bashful smile was enough to tell him everything. “Have you thought of a title yet?”

Glancing to her screen, Y/n read over the final paragraph stopping at the words in bold THE END. Her readers were gonna freak out when it would be announced she’s coming out with a sequel to her second released book, the one responsible for her receiving fan mail with them begging for her to continue the story. To give the characters their happy ending.

She just needed her happy ending first.

The story was being written in real time.

“I was bouncing between a couple, but I think I have it,” she faces her husband, grinning as the name slips off her tongue. It was what Lila and Caroline had coined when Y/n came to them about the book.

“I think I’m gonna call it….The Parent Trap.”

……………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

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lcahwriter · 2 years

Text

Running (Part 3)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader (non-descriptive)

Word Count: 6.7k

TW: Swearing, Nightmares (death in nightmare), stalking, mentions of sex but no actual sex

Summary: You ran across the country to the place you knew you’d be the safest- with Maverick on a Navy base somewhere in California. Your plan was to lay low until the coast was clear - but then you met Bradley Bradshaw.

Will you be able to escape the man who was determined to find you? Will you be able to keep Bradley safe? To fall in love again?

READ PART ONE , PART TWO , PART FOUR

Authors Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this series. I appreciate all the love! I hope you like Part 3 as much as I do.

**********************************************

“What?”

You croaked. You stumbled back against the bar counter, your chest starting to fill with panic. Mav instantly is next to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said firmly. You looked up into his eyes and searched for the comfort you needed. But you didn’t find it – you could tell Maverick was just as fucking scared as you were.

A sob rippled up from your chest, awakening more sadness and panic in you. You leaned forward into Mavericks arms and rested your head on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay; I promise.” He repeated, rubbing behind your shoulders softly. You gripped him like your life depended on it.

What were you supposed to do? How could you protect yourself? How could Maverick even begin to help you?

You stayed silent; your brain was too muffled with emotion to speak.

“Let’s go back to the house, and we’ll talk about a plan.” He said softly. You nodded against him and took a small step back. You looked up to see Penny looking between you and Maverick with concerned eyes.

“I have some last-minute things I need to do here. You guys go.” She said, directing her statement to Maverick. Mav nodded and you looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

“Just stay close to me.” You looked down at Maverick’s side to see his hand hovering over a sleek black pistol holstered on his waist. Your eyes widened with surprise.

“Is that—” you started to ask but you already knew the answer.

“Just incase” is all he said before opening the bar door. You shakily nodded in agreement and walked behind him closely.

The parking lot was dark and quiet – the only sound was the distant waves and both your footsteps.

You sat in Maverick’s passenger seat. Jaw clamped together, body rigid and chest tight. The streets were empty, and the inside of the car was dark.

You kept glancing in the back seat because you couldn’t get rid of the paranoia you felt.

Images of Tim popping up behind you to strangle you had your mind teetering over the edge into a pure panic.

You jumped when you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You pulled it out of your jeans and read the message.

Bradley 🐔: You done with work yet?

You clenched your phone, tears welled in your eyes. You flipped it over without responding.

How could you tell Bradley that Tim was in town? Tim was just an imaginary person in Bradley’s head. If he knew that Tim was in this city, looking for you now- you weren’t sure how he would react.

Any sane person would run the other way.

Your mind wandered back to Tim - back to his anger - his violence.

Tim would kill Bradley if he knew you kissed. He would kill him and then kill you- oh god you couldn’t let this happen.

“Please, you have to breathe!” Maverick’s shout broke you from your trance. He was driving, eyes on the road, but glancing to you worriedly. From the looks of it, he’d been trying to get your attention for a while.

You choked out a small sob and nodded your head emphatically.

“I’m sorry.” You said shakily, trying to take in deep breaths even though it caused your chest to burn.

“Do you think Tim knows about Bradley?” You tried to regulate your breathing, but the dread you felt had only been amplified.

“Now is not the time to think about Bradley’s safety.” Maverick glanced at you with serious eyes. “We need to think about yours.”

You shook your head. You knew he was right. Bradley was safe at training; you were the one that was unsafe.

“How could he have found me?”

That was the next logical thing you could think of to ask. Was this really happening?

“I’m not sure.” Maverick said with frustration.

“Maybe I should leave here, go to Canada or something.” You suggested. You were putting everyone around you in danger just by being with them. Maverick- the closest thing you had to a father was now in danger too.

“No, leaving is not an option. You’re going to stay on base with me until we find him.” Maverick’s jaw was set, and you could tell he was not changing his mind.

“He may be in California, but he is not allowed on this damn base.”

**********************************************************

You laid in your bed, surrounded by darkness and quiet. You had a cold layer of sweat all over your body, despite the air conditioner blasting over you.

How were you supposed to sleep? Knowing that Tim was out there – looking for you. Possibly plotting to kill you? Sleep was an impossible feat. And the worst part was the complete helplessness you felt.

The room lit up with a text from your phone. It’s buzzing made you jump.

Bradley : Did you make it home? Call me before you go to bed.

You stared at his message. He made you smile; he was a breath of fresh fucking air. You were suffocating without him. But how could you tell him something that would worry him? Or even worse- scare him away?

Before you could turn off your phone to ignore his text, which you had fully planned to do- his name popped up on your screen again.

He was calling you.

And how could you ignore him? You were so alone, so scared. And his voice was like a fucking drug. You swiped to answer it before you could stop yourself.

“Hey.” You said softly.

“Well hello there beautiful. How are you doing tonight?” His voice was so happy, so carefree. And the way he called you beautiful so effortlessly- like he fucking meant it. How could you feel so warm inside but so scared? You moved the speaker from your face to take a deep breath.

You pictured him out in the middle of the ocean with his chestnut hair blowing in the breeze. You tried to pretend you were with him, holding his hand.

“I’m great. You?” You lied through your teeth. Your voice wavered on that one making you wince.

“Good now that I’m finally getting to talk to my favorite girl.”

You smiled sadly, even with your chest being torn apart. You needed to say something - anything to him to be normal but you couldn’t fake it. It was all too much.

“Are you okay?” He asked through the phone - his voice was hesitant.

“Um” is all you could get out before you sucked in a harsh breath and a sniffle. It was so fucking obvious you were holding in tears. You were fucked.

“What’s wrong?” Bradley’s voice was more concerned now- which made you want to cry harder. Ignoring this conversation was not going to work. You sat up in your bed, trying to collect your emotions – trying your very fucking best not to sob.

“I don’t want to distract you from training.” you squeezed out. You moved the phone from your mouth again so you could let out a shaky breath.

“Don’t worry about me.” You could hear Bradley’s footsteps in the background. “What’s bothering you?” You heard a door shut in the background. It was quieter than before on his end, and you assumed he was completely alone now.

You knew he wasn’t going to give up asking why you were upset. You had to to lie to him or tell him the horror filled truth. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood in your mouth. Your head hurt from holding in your sobs.

“It’s Tim. He’s in California.” Your voice was raw when you spoke. Just saying the reality of the situation made you close to vomitting. There was silence for so long you almost wondered if Bradley had hung up.

“Where are you right now?” Bradley’s tone had completely changed from concerned to- well something you never heard from him before. He was commanding- domineering even.

“I’m at Mavs.” You took in a jittery breath and covered your mouth trying to mask your sobs. But you couldn’t physically take it anymore. Cries ripped through you throat and you knew you sounded fucking pitiful.

“Does Tim know where you are?” He asked in the same serious tone. It made shivers ripple up your spine.

“I don’t know.” You choked out.

“Fuck.” Bradley hissed so softly you wondered if he meant to say it out loud.

“I’m so scared Bradley.” You whispered between your fingers and into the phone. You breathed in harshly, whimpers coming out between each breath.

“It’s going to be okay.” His voice was firm. You wanted to believe him, but there were so many reasons he could be wrong. It felt like no one could help you- you were completely hopeless.

But his voice was so god damn convincing.

“I need to get back to you.” This time his voice sounded more strained, more raw. You shook your head.

“You need to focus on what you’re doing there.” You said, even though you literally wanted nothing more than him to be with you. But that was so very selfish of you.

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about.” He said softly. “Now I’ve just shifted to worrying about you.”

You cracked a small laugh, one that caused you to hiccup with tears streaming down your face.

“He can’t get to me here. Not on the base.”

You were partly reassuring yourself, and partly trying to convince Bradley of the same.

“I can convince my command to let me fly home tomorrow. I’ll take one of the jets back.”

You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling, letting tears roll freely down your face.

“Bradley if you come near me- and he finds me- he will hurt you.” Your jaw was clenched so tight to hold back sobs that your head was starting to throb from the pressure. “Please, just stay away from me until they find him.”

“Nice try sweetheart. Not gonna happen.” Bradley said back, his voice a little more teasing than serious this time. “I’m not worried about him hurting me, I’m worried about him hurting you.”

Before you could argue back with him, he took a deep breath, loud enough for you to follow suit.

“But he’s not going to get to you. Or me.” You sniffled; tears still fresh down your face- but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt just by talking to him.

“It’s almost 2am, why don’t you get some sleep?” He asked. You slouched back down in bed and used your free hand to wipe away tears. There was no fucking way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

“I’m too anxious to sleep.” You laughed sadly while pulling the covers over your shoulders.

“How about I stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep then?” His voice was so god damned soft. It was addicting, every time he spoke your need for him to speak again grew.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You need sleep for work tomorrow- and you know it.” You pictured him falling asleep while flying and his plane going up in flames. You shook your head at the intrusive thought.

God damn anxiety.

“Who said anything about me not sleeping?” He questioned. You heard him walking now, his footsteps clicking against a hard floor on a boat somewhere in the middle of the ocean. “We’ll both sleep- but I’ll keep the call going. That way it’s like I’m there.”

You knew it wasn’t love- but something warm and really fucking similar to it was filling your chest. You were being chased by a crazed ex- boyfriend, crying like a dog on the phone with him and yet he still wanted you? He still wanted to make sure you slept? He was unreal.

“Close your eyes baby- I’m crawling in bed now.”

The way he said baby made your toes curl. His voice was sounding so tired – and you were afraid if you didn’t agree to stay on the line, he would stay up even longer trying to convince you to.

“Okay. I’m already under the covers.” You snuggled into them and set the phone down next to you. You turned on your side and pressed the speaker button.

“That’s good baby, now close your eyes.” You heard Bradley pull covers over himself. You wondered if he was sleeping naked- or at least shirtless. You were kind of regretting not switching to facetime.

You blushed and slapped a hand over your face to rub your eyes. Not what you should be focusing on at the moment.

You tried to be silent but your breath was just too ragged from the anxiety and sob fest you had. You took in a deep breath and exhaled- just like your therapist had taught you. It burned your chest to breathe in so deeply – but you felt a tiny bit more relaxed.

“Think of Montana.” He said sleepily. “The mountains are beautiful there. Like out of a movie.” You sniffled and snuggled into the covers surrounding you.

“I’ve heard there’s Moose there.” Your eyes were suddenly growing heavy. “I’ve always wanted to see one.” Bradley laughed softly.

“Then we’ll find you one.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. You pictured following Bradley through the woods in Montana. The mountains, lakes and rivers were all so beautiful. You swore Bradley was saying something on the other line, but you had already fallen into a deep sleep.

*********************************************************

A knock on the door sprung you out of the dreamless sleep you were in. The light from the windows in your room was blinding, and you really wondered how you managed to sleep through it. You checked your phone- it was 11:00am. Damn.

Your mind flashed back to your phone call with Bradley. How he had literally soothed you to sleep embarrassingly well. Then you remembered your reality.

Tim’s in town.

A shudder settled over you. But your attention was brought back to the knocking at the door.

You froze under the covers.

You heard Mavericks hesitant footsteps, then the opening of a door. Maverick’s voice sounded friendly, which calmed your heart beat.

Then you heard it– a voice as sweet as honey.

Bradley Bradshaw.

You jumped out of bed and slipped your sleep shorts on under your oversized college t-shirt you’d slept in all night. You didn’t even bother fixing your hair before heading down the stairs.

How did he get here so fast? Was he serious about flying here on a fucking jet?

You knew your eyes were probably blood shot and puffy. And you knew for a fact that your hair was tangled in a nest from the long night of sleep. But Bradley’s voice was a light house, and you were a ship drawn straight to it.

You got to the end of the steps and stopped to see Bradley and Maverick talking quietly. Bradley looked up to meet your eyes.

He was wearing his pilot uniform and a small black duffle bag was held at his side.

“Bradley.” You said softly, stepping down from the last stair and walking straight to him. You hesitated before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself into his chest.

A shudder went down your spine, almost from a sense of relief rather than nervousness. Bradley’s strong arms wrapped behind your back and held you close to his chest.

His head fell into the crook of your neck, and he took a deep breath.

“I came as fast as I could.” His breath was warm as he spoke against your neck.

“You didn’t have to.” You murmured, grasping your hands around him tighter. “But thank you.”

Maverick cleared his throat and you flushed. You stepped away from Bradley, but you made sure that you were still close enough for your shoulders to touch.

You missed him, oh god you missed him more than you’d like to admit. You had missed his smile, his voice, his scent his body.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

All three of you sat at the wood table in the small kitchen that was filled with tension. You offered to cook breakfast but both men refused it. You made coffee for all of you instead- setting three mugs down on the table.

“I can’t believe the admiral let you take the jet.” Maverick said his eyebrows raised. Bradley took a sip of his coffee and stretched his arms behind his head.

“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?” Bradley gave Maverick a wide smile. “Someone really wise told me that once.”

Maverick rolled his eyes and tried hide the smile on his face by looking down at the table.

“I guess I can’t be mad at you then.”

You grinned at the conversation between them. You knew their history, and how hard they both worked to get to this point. The fondness in Maverick’s eyes matched the same kind of love he had for you.

Maverick looked between the two of you and sighed.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you guys here alone.”

You shot him a confused look.

“What do you mean alone?” You asked, watching Maverick intently. You realized that he was in uniform, not in his usual t-shirt and gym shorts.

“I got called out to Nevada to investigate a jet that crashed.” Mav slid his arm over the table and grabbed your shoulder. “I’ll be back by tomorrow. But I trust Bradley to keep you safe while I’m gone.”

You glanced up at Bradley who was watching you with those sweet warm eyes. He was watching your every move, like his life depended on it.

“You’ll be off base Mav- you’re less safe that way.” You countered; anxiety found you again.

“It’s not me he’s after.” Maverick said, removing his hand from your shoulder.

You knew he was right.

Bradley’s grip on his coffee cup was tighter than before, judging by his tight white knuckles. He was looking down now, jaw set and his shoulders tensed. You tore your eyes from him to look back at Maverick.

“Any update from John?”

Mav shook his head.

“He still doesn’t have eyes on him. All he knows is that his plane landed at the airport last night.”

The fact that Tim was this close to you again terrified you. It didn’t feel real.

“How does he know she’s here?” Bradley’s voice was dark, just like it had been on the phone last night.

“He must have known she would hide with me. It probably took him a while to find out where I was stationed.” Maverick was frustrated, and you shook your head. You refused to let him blame himself for this.

“Has John been able to uncover files?” You were growing extremely frustrated.

Frustrated at the situation, frustrated the cops that didn’t believe you and most of all frustrated that the man you ran all the way across the country from had found you.

Maverick shook his head and disappointment.

“Maybe I should let him find me. Use myself as bait to at least get him arrested for stalking.” Your body rejected the idea by a swift wave of nausea.

“No!” Both Maverick and Bradley said at the same time.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You said your voice cracking. Tears started to well in your eyes, and you cursed your ability to cry at any moment.

“He won’t stop until he finds me. You know that Mav.” You wiped away your tears before they could roll down your cheeks. You avoided looking at Bradley.

“We just have to wait for him to slip up, or for John to recover your files.”

Bradley sat up straighter causing you to look at him. His brown eyes were fiery with disbelief.

“We can’t just wait for him to hurt her!” Bradley’s nostrils were flaring and his grip on his coffee cup made you wonder if it would crush in his hands.

You sucked in a breath anxiously. He had a point. But there was just no other way.

“Bradley calm down.” Maverick said in a warning tone. “It’s the only way we can do this, if we arrest him now then he will be released in 48 hours. There’s nothing they can actually charge him for.”

You looked over at Bradley who was shaking his head, his jaw was still clenched but his expression was now more sad than angry.

“I hate this.” He murmured, leaning back in his chair. You twisted your lips and grabbed his hand.

Bradley wrapped his hand around yours as soon as you reached for him. You swore you could see his stress melt away in that moment.

Even though you were the one who needed the comfort, all you wanted was to make Bradley not whatever he was right now.

The Bradley you wanted, needed, was a one with bright eyes and a smile that could bring you to your knees. Right now, he was the furthest thing from it. You gave his hand a squeeze and let go.

“You should go Mav. I know you’re probably already running late.” You gave him a small smile and stood up, collecting both men’s coffee cups. You knew you were glossing over what needed to be talked about. But what more was there to say?

The reality was that Tim was after you and there was pretty much nothing you could do about it.

“I can make some breakfast for us Bradley.” You said, not even bothering to look back at him. You started pulling ingredients from the fridge.

“You don’t have to.” Bradley said tentatively. You scoffed at him.

“I know you’re hungry Mr. I woke-up early enough to steal a jet and fly here by 11am.”

Bradley laughed at that, making your heart skip a beat. His laugh was like medicine.

“I’ll see both of you tomorrow.” Mav pointed between the two of you. “Call me if anything comes up.”

He grabbed his duffle bag that was sitting by the door. You didn’t want him to go, but you had no control over that.

“Bye Mav!” You and Bradley said at the same time. Mav rolled his eyes and waved goodbye before hurrying out the door. You were right, he was late.

The house felt quieter, and much, much smaller now that Maverick was gone.

You continued making breakfast while sneaking glances at Bradley. He looked so … so himself in his pilot’s uniform. Like he was made to wear it.

His tall frame looked silly sitting in the dinky wooden chair, and the coffee cup he held looked like a child’s cup in his hands. You caught a glance of his soft lips that were so damn kissable.

“What do you want to do after breakfast?” He asked, breaking you from your trance. You blushed and flipped the egg on the skillet.

“Netflix?”

*************************************************

You laid on a white sand beach, looking out at the crystal-clear ocean. The sound of the curling waves radiated in your ears. The sunshine warmed your skin, making you feel completely at ease.

You watched as Bradley waded in the ocean. His bare back was tanned and strong. You wanted to join him, but you felt so light where you were. You took a deep breath, and let a smile crawl to your face.

Bradley’s laugh filled your ears. He was dancing in the water now, looking as beautiful as ever.

Perfect. This was perfect.

The sound of footsteps startled you. You looked to your right to see a tall figure dressed in all black walking towards the shore. Walking towards Bradley.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t. Your feet were stuck in the sand holding you down. Panic washed over you.

“BRADLEY!” You screamed. He couldn’t hear you. He was still laughing and running in the waves.

You looked in horror as the man turned around to face you. It was Tim. His ice blue eyes were emotionless. You screamed and tried to move again, but your body refused.

“BRADLEY! BRADLEY PLEASE!” You cried again, this time screaming so loud your chest was aching.

It didn’t matter how much you screamed; he couldn’t hear you.

Tim turned and walked into the ocean, just steps away from Bradley now.

“Bradley turn around!” You sobbed, still thrashing in place trying to get to him.

You watched in horror as Tim wrapped his hands around Bradley’s neck and slammed him into the water. Both men disappeared under the waves.

You screamed. You couldn’t get to him, no matter what you did- you couldn’t fucking get to him.

The water was still. You were waiting for Bradley to resurface. It had been too fucking long.

You had sweat dripping down your face, your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest.

The water started to bubble with movement.

“NO!” You sobbed, falling to your knees.

Tim, was walking out of the water, dragging Bradley’s lifeless body behind him. You screamed and a pain stronger than anything you felt before ripped through you.

He let go of Bradley’s body at the shore like he was nothing and started walking towards you. You had nowhere to run.

“No please, please please please!” Your chest was burning, you screamed again, praying someone would hear you.

“No please!” Tim reached out his hand-

But then he was gone.

Suddenly you were staring at familiar pair of brown eyes.

Bradley.

You weren’t on the beach anymore. You recognized your room, the bed you were laying on – the smell of home. Bradley was leaning over the bed looking at you with panicked eyes.

“You’re okay- you’re safe” He said,softly.

You blinked a few times, trying desperately to focus on him. Trying to forget what you’d seen. It had felt so real.

You tried to speak but you were breathing too hard. Your eyes felt like they were going to pop from your skull. Your hands were rolled in fists, tucked into your chest. You could feel the cold sweat sticking to your T-shirt. Your throat was burning just as it had in your dream, and that tears were covering your face like you’d been crying for hours.

“It was just a dream.” Bradley’s voice cracked. He had woken you up by shaking you- you’d felt it. But now he wasn’t touching you at all- it was like he was scared to hurt you.

“Oh.” Was all you could think it say. You were afraid if you looked away from him, he would disappear. You let tears fall from your eyes, though you stayed silent. Your chest was painfully raw.

You gasped when the image of Bradley’s lifeless body flashed into your mind.

You reached towards Bradley, just needing him close to you. He seemed to understand, and immediately moved to crawl under the covers with you.

As soon as the bed dipped with his weight you were against him. Your face was pressed against his chest, and his arms slowly wrapped around your body.

It was the first time you’d been like this, but it was so God damn natural to be this close.

You could feel his steady heartbeat. Alive. He was alive.

A flash of Tim’s icy blue eyes popped in your head.

You jerked in Bradley’s arms and he squeezed you closer. Your heart was beating so hard but your cries were soft, and tired.

“You’re okay.” He whispered. You cried even more at his voice, grasping onto him.

“I couldn’t save you.” You whispered, while gripping onto his t-shirt that was now soaked with your tears. “He killed you.” You whimpered at the memory.

“I’m right here.” Bradley rubbed circles on the small of your back. “No one’s going to hurt me.”

Your legs were tucked under his and your hand was wrapped behind his neck. Your stomach was pressed against his. All you could feel was your heart beating against his.

You were still in his arms trembling when he spoke.

“You’ve got to take some deep breaths sweetheart.”

You let out a small laugh and hiccupped.

“Easier said than done.” You retorted. You tried though, because it had been at least 10 minutes since the dream plagued you. Your heart was beating just as fast as it was then.

“Think about Montana.” He suggested. You smiled lightly at that.

“I wish we could go there now.” You whispered. You pictured the same big mountains you always did when he mentioned Montana. Images of blue lakes and rivers flooded your mind. You tried to imagine that you were there, with Bradley without a care in the world.

“We’ll go soon.” He said, his chest rumbling your whole body. You nodded and finally felt your body relax in his arms. The worst part of waking up from the nightmare was over.

You paused to take in your surroundings. Bradley was holding you like he would die if he let go. He was practically covering you, sheltering you like gun fire would hit you both at any minute. You were so warm in his arms, so fucking safe. It was heaven even on the worst days.

Memories of the night before flooded your brain.

You both watched Netlfix on the couch all night – you hadn’t even bothered to cook and ordered pizza instead. It was bliss. Neither of you talked about Tim, or the impending doom surrounding you. You’d just pretended it was only you and Bradley that mattered.

You had fallen asleep on the couch when Bradley woke you up. He gave you a piggyback to your bed and tucked you in like a little “caterpillar.” His words, not yours.

You insisted he sleep in your bed with you, but he wanted to be next to the front door- just in case. You were too tired to argue with him. The last thing you remembered before the dream was him giving you a soft kiss goodnight.

“You get dreams like that often?” Bradley interrupted your thoughts.

“Sometimes.”

You were lying, you had nightmares periodically since you escaped from Tim. But they were never this bad – and they had never included someone else getting killed in the dream. It had always been just you.

You pulled your head away from his chest. Your hair was sticking to your face from all the tears you’d cried.

“I’m so sorry Bradley. I know this isn’t something you signed up for.”

A wave of shame washed over you. Maybe this was too much for him. The rawness of trauma – of fear.

You tried to move away but he held you steady against him.

“Please don’t apologize.” He shook his head at you and met your eyes. “And I did sign up for this. I signed up for you the first time I spoke to you in that bar 5 months ago.”

Your eyes widened.

“I don’t want to scare you- because I swear I’m not trying to rush this.” He said quickly. “I just know I don’t want to be without you.”

You bit your lip and searched his eyes. They were honest, pure and so kind.

“I don’t want to be without you either.” You said, reaching to touch his cheek. His skin was tanned and his stubble tickled your fingers.

“I’m home!”

You and Bradley both froze and looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Get up!” You said, shoving him off the bed. Bradley stumbled off the bed and you covered your mouth to cover your laughter. He looked back at you with a glare.

But you both knew you had to get it together quick. You knew Maverick suspected you and Bradley would be sleeping in the same room. But you didn’t want him to see that – even if nothing…sexual happened.

“I’ll come down in a few.” You whispered. Bradley straightened his shirt and hair.

“Sounds good sweet cheeks.” He winked and was out the door before you could tell him never to call you sweet cheeks again.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the all too familiar ceiling. How was it you could feel so raw and terrified, but so fucking happy at the same time?

*********************************************************

(Bradley’s POV)

Bradley walked down the stairs, still adjusting his t-shirt and hair as he moved.

“Is she still sleeping?”

Maverick’s voice caused his head to perk up. Mav was standing at the front door, still in uniform. Bradley reached the end of the staircase and let out a big sigh.

“She had a nightmare.” An ache that he hadn’t been able to shake since he heard you screaming his name in terror panged in his chest.

He thought that Tim had found you.

That is until he ran up the stairs into the bedroom to see you. The image of you thrashing in the sheets sobbing was something he wished he could forget.

“I hate that son of a bitch.” Bradley said, his jaw clicking. He felt hot anger was over him. He hated the fear that Tim was causing you.

He tried not to think about what kind of sick things he did to you before you were able to escape. Every time he did it sent him in a fucking tailspin.

“John still doesn’t have tabs on him.” Maverick said lowly. Bradley guessed he was trying to speak softly so you wouldn’t hear. Maverick walked towards the kitchen, with Bradley following closely behind him.

“Do you think he has the balls to come on base?” Bradley asked. He subconsciously balled his fists together. He felt an unatural instinct to protect you- and the thought of this disgusting man getting anywhere near you made him sick.

“I don’t know.” Mav’s voice was tense. Bradley shook his head and started pacing back and forth.

He loved Maverick- but he couldn’t help but feel like the older man wasn’t doing enough.

He was fucking terrified for you. And even though he would do anything to keep you safe – he wasn’t sure he could.

“I’m going to the police station.” Bradley said, walking towards the table with his keys on it. He could feel Maverick’s eyes on him.

“Bradley, I’ve already tried that. There’s nothing they can do.”

Bradley shook his head in frustration.

“Then we try again!” He said harshly with his chest puffed out in anger. Maverick’s eyes were disapproving as Bradley walked towards the door.

“Tell her I’ll be back soon.” He gestured towards your bedroom.

“Bradley—”

He heard Maverick calling him, but he didn’t care to listen. It took all the self-control in the world to not slam the door.

He trudged to his car and started the engine.

He was going to make them listen to them, whether they liked it or not.

*********************************************************

Bradley walked into the crowded police station.

The front desk was full of people, and the waiting room surrounding it was even fuller. Officers were mingling around their desks and talking with each other.

He waited with his hands in his pockets, trying not to fucking explode with impatience. Ten minutes passed before his thoughts were interrupted.

“Sir, can I help you?” A gruff voice yelled, catching Bradley’s attention. It was an officer behind the desk, gesturing towards him.

Bradley strutted towards the desk, trying his best not to lose his cool. As soon as he got to the counter he spoke. He did'nt have a fucking second to waste.

“My girlfriend, she’s being stalked.” Bradley took a deep breath in order to manage his stress. “He’s threatening to kill her.” Bradley swallowed, his eyes glowering into the officers.

The officer had no reaction, just looked down at his notepad to write. Bradley licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek- trying to remain calm once again.

“Hello?” Bradley said, fucking annoyed that the officer was acting like he hadn’t heard say someone was threatening to murder his girlfriend.

“Sir, I’ll call you when we’re ready to take a full report. You can sit in the waiting room until then.” He still didn’t look up from his god damned notepad. Bradley wanted to rip it out of his hands.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He seethed, his fists balling at his sides. “Someone is trying to murder my girlfriend!” Bradley’s voice was growing to a shout- and other officers were taking notice.

“Sir – I understand that. But unless there is an emergency, we can’t do anything but take a report.” The man finally looked up at Bradley.

His inconvenienced stare sent Bradley over the edge. He thought about your screams or terror this morning. Or all of the tears he'd seen you shed in just the last two weeks. He couldn't allow you to live in so much pain.

“That’s not good enough!” Bradley’s fist slammed on the counter, causing everyone to jerk at the noise.

“Sir- you need to calm down.” He said, his eyes narrowing.

Bradley noticed officers moving closer to where he was standing, hands hovering over their holstered guns. Bradley scoffed at their reaction.

“How am I supposed to calm down when you're all in here chatting like it’s fucking Easter Sunday and my girlfriend is running for her god damn life!” Bradley’s chest was heaving up and down.

He knew he had crossed the line yelling at the police, but he was so fucking desperate. He had to make them listen – he had to. For you.

He felt a hand touch his left shoulder. Bradley whipped around, ready to shove someone when he realized it was Maverick.

“Bradley, you need to stand down.” His voice was calm. The shorter man was still squeezing his shoulder. Bradley shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re just going to let them do nothing?” Bradley seethed and pointed at the officers in the building. He was making a damn scene, but he didn’t care.

“No, I’m going to take care of this.” Maverick raised his eyebrows at him. “And you’re going to go take a walk.”

Bradley felt angry all over again.

“I’m not going to take a damn walk Maverick. Not when he’s still out there looking for her!” Bradley shook his head, his fear now mixed with anger. Maverick stepped Infront of him, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Do you think you’ll be better off sitting in a jail cell for assaulting an officer?” He whispered at Bradley harshly.

He knew Maverick was right, but he was still pissed off.

“If you do nothing and she gets hurt – her blood is on your hands.”

He directed his comment to all of the police officers who were staring at him with wide eyes.

His veins were hot as he stormed out of the police station. He cursed under his breath, pacing Infront of his car.

That did not go as planned.

He weighed his options on what he would do next. Should he go out on a wild goose chase and find Tim on his own? Should he go back to you and provide comfort? Had Maverick left you alone?

He groaned and put his hands above his head to calm himself down. He sat on the bench Infront of the police station to cool down before driving.

“Not your smartest moment kid.”

Bradley looked up to see Maverick making his way towards him. Bradley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You got a better idea?” He questioned Mav through narrowed eyes. Maverick sat down next to him shaking his head.

“They are going to patrol and check local motels for him. That’s all I could get them to agree to do for us right now.”

Bradley slouched at that. Well, that was a a better plan than the murder mission he had in mind.

“Did you leave her alone at the house?” He pictured you alone, scared. Venerable.

“No of course not. John is there.”

Bradley shook his head.

“I’m sorry Mav.” Bradley licked his lips and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I just lose it when it comes to her.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” Maverick leaned his elbows against his knees. “Your dad would have done the same.” A fond smile flashed on Maverick’s face.

Bradley smiled back at him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the clouds float through the sky.

Bradley tapped his fingers against his thigh. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

If the police didn't find Tim by tomorrow - he would go out and find the bastard himself.

*******************************************************

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