Bradley Bradshaw X Reader - Blog Posts

Look Me in the Eyes (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: During naval training, your jet crashed and burned, taking your memories with it. But the lieutenant who saved you seems to know you better than he lets on. The only issue is that he refuses to tell you his name.

A/N: pfft half yall don’t read this anyway so imma just say rooster’s hot, oreosmama out *drops mic*

Word count: 3345

It’s not the pervading scent of antiseptic and boredom that has carved its way into your skin, nestling deep into the creases of your brow and your sneering upper lip—

It’s his unflinching gaze.

The lieutenant hovering over you, with a spoonful of green, gelatinous “dinner” posed over your lips, mumbles, “Open the hatch, the F-18 needs to land.” 

He’s a staunchly built man ornamented in the same naval jacket he’d been wearing when you first came-to in the hospital room, his lofty shoulders embellished in unfamiliar patches. Over the last two days, most of which have consisted of him lording himself over you or sitting back in the chair beside your bed, his five o’clock shadow has thickened, and the wrinkles underneath his teasing eyes darkened a shade.

The F-18 bumps against your sneer, and he chortles to himself. 

You know why you’re here. 

Well, sort of.

You know that it must’ve hurt. Like a falling-unconscious-due-to-pain kind of hurt. Black and blue splotches paint your temple and upper left cheek, and each time you force a smile, it aches. The rest of your body looks the same. In the first shower you’d been allowed, you twisted and turned as much as your burning abdomen could handle and had come to the conclusion that you were glad you didn’t remember much of what had happened.

The only real issue was that you didn’t remember much of anything. 

The story you had been told was haphazardly crafted, not unlike if a toddler had drawn a house with crayons and passed it to you, insisting it looked exactly like the one you lived in. 

It goes something like this: you were flying your jet when the engine stalled, and when you ejected, your head smacked against the windshield. You were lucky—you were unconscious when you had crumpled in on yourself, snapping five of your ribs like pencils, and when you’d landed on the ground, face in the dirt—you were so, so lucky. 

But the lieutenant says differently. 

When he found you, you were awake. You were echoing his name into the stagnant desert air, screaming and sobbing in ways that still keep him up at night. 

You know because he sleeps with folded arms on the edge of your mattress, and he rattles the metal skeleton each time he flinches. And the times when he thinks you’re too buried in exhaustion and slumber, his hand finds yours, fingertips light as air against your skin.

These are the only times the lieutenant bares that part of himself to you. 

In the mornings, when you can look him in the eyes and see the guilt buried underneath, he winces a smile onto his lips and asks if you remember anything yet. 

You don't.

And he winces again. “Back to the drawing board, huh?”

The lieutenant is a nice-enough man when he wants to be. The only issue is that he doesn’t seem to want to be. 

“Tell me your name,” you snipe, dangling over the precipice of flinging Jell-O across the room. 

This is a game he never wants to play, despite how often he wins. He has the whole naval base’s hospital staff refer to him as Sir or Lieutenant-no-last-name, and each time you ask, he’ll give you the same response.

“You know my name.” 

You don't. He’s a complete stranger. He can hold you hand and feed you Jell-O and help you hobble to the bathroom; he can brush the hair from your sweat-crusted face in the mornings and, on some rare occasions where he thinks he’s woken up before you, he’ll graze a feather-soft kiss on your bruised temple.

And you still haven't got a clue. 

Because whoever the lieutenant is, the tight grip he has on your heart is completely foreign to you. It’s a grip that says you and him aren’t just something definable—you were a we in this life; the pair of you have formed a way of living in tandem, your own intrinsic tango to which nobody else knows the steps. It’s not just like or a passing fancy. It’s not just hot static running through veins. 

This is fully fledged; this is oxygen now. The rise and fall of your chest is the rise and fall of his. The absence of it must be suffocating. 

So you don't know why he doesn’t like this game. He makes a question-answer into a back-and-forth, and then he winds and winds you up until you’re ready to snap. 

It’s not fair. God, it’s not fair. You deserve to know his name. Doesn’t he know it’s not just a tickle in the back of your mind anymore? If he was the one whose name you were screaming, didn’t you deserve to know what it was?

“Why do you keep doing this?” 

You watch his lips purse, the color bleeding out of them and into pink patches on his neck and cheeks. The spoon rattles against the tray, and the glob of green wavers in its curve. He refuses to hold your gaze like always. Self-inflicted torment disguises itself as burnt-sienna irises. The life you’ve forgotten is bowing his shoulders, and your crash, no matter the fact that he saved you, is eating away at him. 

Then the lieutenant smiles, in the fractured way—the way someone might laugh at a funeral. 

“Because knowing my name wouldn’t help you. You never called me by it, anyway.”

This, oh God—this is the closest you’ve ever gotten, and you’re still wading in the darkness. A name you’d never even call him by, what a wonder that does to your psyche. 

A name was a start; it was a first impression. There was a lot in a name. 

So you’d never called him by his name… so what?

So what, only lovers knew each other by more than a name? So what, he never called you by yours? So what, you didn’t want to ever call him by his name, never felt the urge, but felt it was rather proper considering you didn’t know what to call him at all?

He keeps you doggy-paddling for it.

The hospital room is polluted with silence for the rest of the night. Slowly, you finish the Jell-O as he sits back in his chair, watching, yet not quite seeing you. You missed when his staring felt like a buzzing fly. Now it’s a thunderstorm hanging over you, foggy and dampened, and you’re struck every few seconds with a shiver. 

He doesn’t reach out for your hand when you pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Twenty minutes past lights out, he stands and heads into the bathroom, slowly creaking the door closed and locking it before the shower faucet turns on and stays on for a long, long time. 

Where his hand should be is where he laid his jacket, one sewn patch erroneously rough against your palm. With another glance at the light underneath the bathroom door, you haul the leather jacket up into your lap, tracing the ridges and folds. You trails your fingertips along the jacket, searching for… something. Anything. 

Cold metal, a zipper slips underneath your fingers, and you sit up straighter despite the outcry of pain in your ribs. 

A pocket, and inside is a small plastic card—his ID. 

That, and a small, velvet box. 

No…

No, you won’t open it. 

No, no, because he shouldn’t even have that here. 

Why—dear God—why did he have that here?

It’s not for you. That’s for sure. You don’t even want to open it. No.

It’s not yours. It’s not yours to have, especially since he hasn’t offered it to you, and it’s not yours to wear, and it’s not yours to look at, to watch, iridescent, crystal devotion reflecting the moonlight from the room’s lone window. 

But when you lift the cover and curse the stars that the man whose name you don’t even know knows you so well, knows how beautiful it is in your eyes, and even worse, how well it fits on your finger, you know it’s yours. 

Well, not yours. 

It’s hers. The one before the crash’s. 

That’s her ring on your finger, and that’s her lieutenant grieving in the bathroom. 

This is her life, not yours. All you own anymore is the absence pulsing in your chest. 

You own the spasms in your veins, the brief and lasting panic of who am I, really?, the deficiency of life and past and love; the frail hold on this reality, on that man, on this ring. 

The rest is not yours, so you should let it go. 

Then, ideally, you should be able to float away, free from these junctions to a girl you don’t know. The man who loves her loves your face. He loves your body, and your voice, and each of the words falling from your lips, perhaps in the wrong order, yes, but he’ll rearrange them in his mind so that it matches hers.

Ideally. 

Ideally, it’s not this drowning feeling, a weight like a hand pressing hard against your chest, shoving you deeper and deeper under the current. She’s the one who breathes, not you. You don’t need to breathe. You’re an accident in this world. 

The I.D. slips from your grasp and falls to the floor. 

You’ve read it. You saw the name, the rank, the naval symbol. In the dim moonlight and the single glowing strip underneath the bathroom door, his not-really-a-smile smiles up at you from the vinyl floor. 

And now you see it, chrome duct tape peeling off the jagged stitches of a patch, the one over his heart. Another of his games: his missing call sign. 

It… fits him. Strangely enough. 

Is this what you called him?

The hospital room floods with a subdued yellow light carried out by the steam of the lieutenant’s shower. He emerges with a towel wrapped around his lower body, a sheen of wet on his cheeks you’re not certain was caused by the shower. 

Like you, this is his third shower in this room, but unlike him, he’s not wearing a smirk when he exits, bare feet padding along the cold tiles. He doesn’t spare you a glance while he pilfers through his black duffle bag, the one seated on the only other guest chair in the room—the one that never moves. 

Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t look, because you hadn’t thought to take off the ring. It was a plan as half-baked as when you’d first decided to put it on. Some barbaric, frenzied part of you, the same one that had slipped it on and hugged it close to your heart, refused to yank it off. It was another you—not her nor you, but a new one that had fallen in love with him, Rooster, without memory or qualms, the one that had no issue with him lingering in every corner of your mind; no, in fact, she preferred it.

You don’t listen to her when the lieutenant pivots back to face you, a fresh pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and the rest sourced from the duffel bag in tow, one fist curled into his towel at his waist. His eyes land on yours, and your fingers slicken with the sweat of your palms, tremble like the thumps beneath your ribcage. 

At the worst moment possible, you notice, in the hazy yellow light of 10:07 PM, that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw’s eyes are achingly akin to whiskey. It’s the dark, thick kind that coats your tongue and hits you five seconds after you sip it like a freight train; heady, terribly intoxicating, and in large doses, coaxes out the worst side of yourself at an even worse moment. 

The ring clinks against the bed’s metal framework before shuddering against the tile floor, and his eyes leave yours to watch it rattle. The skin of your left ring finger burns from the swift twisting and tugging you’d employed in a state of tipsy panic—your plan had been to slip the ring unnoticed beneath his leather jacket, the same place you’d stuffed the velvet box. 

A breath tears itself out of the lieutenant’s chest. Tan skin rises and falls once, and his grip goes white-knuckle on his towel. 

Then he pads back toward the bathroom without a word and disappears behind the slammed door. Somehow, in some terrible way, it is even harder to breathe with him not in the room after that. 

But he bursts through the door a second later, completely negligent of the violent pacing of your heart, donned in clothes wrinkled and stretched in odd places from frantic dressing. He covers the distance with three long strides and slackens back into the plastic hospital chair, the heavy creases under his eyes never having looked so deep-seated. 

You see it now. The damage this whole experience has done to him. He’s been hollowed out, rigorously gutted to the point that one last revelation might finally crack him in half and let the despair pour out. 

You’re afraid to tell him all that you don’t know. That even though you had slid that ring on and off your finger, you still don’t know him. But, God, you want to tell him that you love him, despite knowing it won’t be enough. It’s not even enough to you, and it’s all that you have. 

Usually, he wears this sheen layer of tenderness over his face; it slips off every night when you close your eyes, and he smooths it back on in the mornings in the mirror. Some days he layers it on so thick you never even notice the grief hidden underneath. 

It must have gotten too heavy to bear. 

The silence hangs just as heavy. He runs both hands down his face, pressing hard enough that his skin emerges pink, and folds his hands, knocking them against his lips. Veins in his eyes grow redder by the second, and your heart begins a slow crawl up your throat at the watery levels of his eyelines, waiting to spill. The ring sits on the floor untouched. 

“Do you,” he faltered, clearing his throat. “Do you… remember anything?”

He’s looking at you so intensely that your skin is searing. Shame washes over you, grasping your shoulders and burying you deeply into its chest. You want to cry. 

“Nothing.”

The lieutenant stares at you a second longer, stretching it out until you’re trembling. Then he looks away, down, before reaching and retrieving the ring from the ground. He observes it for just a second, the way it glimmers in night’s imperfect lighting, and his eyes squeeze shut.

Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, you’ve learned, will draw things out until the perfect moment has come. He will wait until the ache swells and culminates, with a tolerance so inexhaustible you wonder if, in all your time loving him, you ever bothered to wait up. He’s noticed how the darkness has swallowed both of you wholly, and only now does he offer reprieve. 

Bradley tells you your name.

And he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first second he saw you. 

He tells you that he can’t bear the thought of losing all that you’d had, and that his world had been crumbling apart before his own goddamned eyes ever since your jet’s engine had sputtered and died. He tells you that he’s so, so fucking sorry he couldn’t save you, sorry that your life ever got entangled so messily with his in the first place, and even more sorry that he’s so useless to help you find your way back, that you can’t seem to find your way back to him. 

And when you began to cry, he bolted up from his seat and held you, whispering apologies into your hair, and you cried a little harder, because you had found your way back to him, but he wouldn’t ever care, because it wasn’t the same path you’d taken before. 

You cry because it hurts to hold him, and even more because it hurts him to hold you. You want all of the I-love-yous he’s ever said to be for you, and you want that damned ring too. 

You want that goddamn ring on your finger right now because he’d promised you that it would be yours. That first moment he’d ever seen you, stumbling drunk in a crowded Hard Deck and spilling his beer half on his Hawaiian shirt, half on yours, that he’d make up for it by putting a spendy ring on your little finger right there, despite not actually knowing where right there was. The only one I’ll ever buy, he’d hiccuped, it’ll be yours, darlin’. 

“Rooster,” you croaked into his chest. “Roo.”

A provoked sob tore from your throat, your arms and ribs aching from how tightly you clung to him, even after he froze. You surfaced from the curve of his shoulder, hands sliding past his sides, over his thrumming chest, and up to cradle his damp jawline before drawing his face down to yours. He mumbled your name, whiskey eyes potent as ever, and you smothered the rest of his question against your lips. 

You couldn’t tell who was crying anymore. Your cheeks’ dampness was his, just the same as his lips pressed against yours so harshly, so numbingly you couldn’t quite tell where yours ended and his began. It must have been somewhere close to where his tongue met yours, making up for lost time as he fought hard and fiercely for everything he’d been starved of for three, going on four, unbearable days. His hands left their leverage against the bed and latched onto your hips, rough fingertips familiarly caressing the soft slopes of your sides, and when you offered an airy moan to him, he accepted eagerly with a tightening grip. 

You separated from him with a small cry, ribs twinging. Bradley pulled away in horror, and his dilated pupils struggled to sober up to join. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, larger hands now grappling at yours and trying to remove your grasp. “You need—ice, I’ll go get you some ice–”

“Roo, no,” you mumbled, refusing to let go of him. 

He paused, and his body shivered under your touch. The familiarity of his name from your mouth seemed as comforting to him as it was to you. His lips twitched and curled, and he breathed a small sigh. The hard lines of his face grew tender as he slid his hands down to your wrists, turning and pressing a kiss to each palm. 

His heart jumped and throbbed against your fingertips, and you had no doubt he could feel the same from yours. The heat of his damp cheeks had grown infinitely warmer under your touch, and for all the nights you’d spent with just a grasp on his hand, the change was more and more welcome. 

“Don’t leave me again,” he pleaded against the skin of your palm, voice thick and bittersweet, like honey seeping through your ears. “I don’t think I can handle that again.”

He steeled himself against your mattress with one hand when you tugged his forehead down against yours, lips just whispering against one another. You smiled. 

“Was it all the Jell-O that did you in, or…?”

“Yeah, actually,” he nodded, tongue pressed against his cheek. “It was. I hope you know we’re never having Jell-O in our house ever again.”

“Not even lime?”

“Especially lime.”

You huffed, “Fine.” You pulled away, despite how desperate Bradley was to follow you. He let you fall back against the pillows with your hand still in his grasp, and he settled onto the edge of the mattress, letting his spare hand find home in the pliant skin of your thigh. Your eyes rose to the ceiling. “But it’ll cost you.”

Soft lips brushed the back of your left hand before cold metal slipped around your finger. “One of these?”

“Exactly.”

Bradley hummed. “Gladly.”

Top Gun Fic Rec Masterlist

Masterlists

F&F Universe @clints-lucky-arrow

Masterlist @shouldershimmycity

Masterlist @youlightmeupfinn

Masterlist @callsign-phoenix

Masterlist @phantomtgm

Masterlist @topguncortez

Masterlist @roosterforme

Masterlist @pmitchell

Dagger Squad

Valentine’s Day @auroradawnwrites

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

you found me @augustinescruelsummer

thumbs up @lorecraft

secret sweetheart @theundercoversquid

Girl!dad Jake @kryptonitejelly

I.R.I.S @ohtobeleah

Mine, Yours, Ours @roosterscock

Blurb @ddejavvu

Signed Away @seresinhangmanjake

Absolute filth @roosterbruiser

Contract Spouse @discount-shades

Little Wonder @hangmans-wingman

Dad's Best Friend @sugarcoated-lame

Robert “Bob” Floyd

The Captain’s Daughter @coco-loco-nut (all parts are linked)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Show Me The Way Home, Honey @warnersister

Batting Practice

The Younger Kind

I Would Never Hurt You by roosterforme

Nick “Goose” Bradshaw

Gold Rush @duchesstypewriter

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

Persuasion At Its…Finest? @crazyk-imagine

Let Me Prove It @bobby-r2d2-floyd

Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Nav @ohtobeleah

I Can’t Believe I Was Nervous

Javy "Coyote" Machado

your love is the love i need @theharddeck

Jake x OC x Bradley

Angel by the Wings @makethatelevenrings

Jake x OC x Javy

a little bit of fun @sushiwriterhere

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Drive In @thewhiskersonkittens

This is probably one of the best fanfic one shots/imagines I’ve read in a long time! Perfectly crafted and worded to make a reader feel something! So beautifully written! This author should be proud of herself! It tells of Bradley and the reader in such an intimate way and made me feel love and adoration for them both, while thinking about my own experiences with my parents. The author perfectly captures Bradley’s moments with Lila and The reader’s moments with Caroline so perfectly that again, it felt like I was taken back in time and experiencing experiences with my own parents that I haven’t thought of in a long time. The author uses emotion to her advantage and I am loving it. The only thing that I would ask her to change is to make or reconsider a sequel continuing to tell us about Bradley’s and Readers story after Happily Ever After. I feel that this is one fanfic that should receive definite recognition for how beautiful it is. Even though it’s based off “Disney’s”movie of The Parent Trap, both the 1961 and the 1998 movies, it still gives it’s own zest and zeal that when reading, one would forget that it’s based off of those. This reviewer gives it 5 out of 5 stars. If you have time In your day, are a hopeless romantic, and love Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, this fic is for you!

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!!

——————————————

“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 first. 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 damn. “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

Nighttime Comfort

Summary: Bradley wakes up in a sweat after a nightmare about Mav getting shot down and you comfort him

Warnings: nightmares/flashbacks, crying, angst(?), fluff, use of Y/N

Words: 1460

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

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The dagger squad got back from the uranium enrichment mission just over a month ago. Bradley was back at work only a week after he got back home. During these 4 weeks, Bradley has been having dreadful nightmares and flashbacks about the mission. You’ve only woken up to one of them, and he told you everything was okay and it was just a weird dream. You believed him and haven’t noticed anything weird since. Not until the other morning, when you came upstairs with his cup of coffee.

——————————————————————————-

Every Saturday morning since Bradley got back from his mission, you have made breakfast in bed for the two of you. This morning was no different. When you went downstairs to get the mugs of coffee, Bradley was slowly waking up but wasn’t fully awake. You had given him a kiss on the head before heading down. But when you came back up, you found him curled up on his side, wide awake but looking terrified as ever. You quickly put the mugs down on his side table and knelt down on the floor by his side of the bed. His fist was tightly gripping the duvet, and he was very tense.

"Bradley?!" Bradley, are you okay? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me, please." You frantically ask him.

He blinks a few times before loosening his grip on the duvet. You can see his muscles relax as he takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. You sat in silence for a minute. During that time, you reached your hand over to hold his, intertwining your fingers.

"I, uh.." he began, clearing his throat. "I didn’t want to scare you or make you worry. I’m sorry, Y/N." Bradley continued.

He sounded so sad and guilty. You weren’t sure why, though.

“Baby, what do you mean?" You asked.

"Ever since the mission.. I, I’ve been having some, uh, nightmares and flashbacks."

He paused.

"Specifically when Mav got shot down." Looking down at where your hands meet, not wanting to meet your sorrowful eyes.

"So.. when I woke up the other night and you said it was a weird dream.. it was a nightmare?"

You felt a little hurt that he hadn’t told you, but you also fully understood why he wouldn’t want you to know. When you said that, Bradley looked into your eyes, giving you a slight nod.

"Oh Bradley.. baby.. I love you so much. I need to know these things so I can help you. It makes me feel sick that you’ve been trying to deal with this alone.. I.. I want to help Bradley."

——————————————————————————-

Ever since that morning, you’ve been more attentive during the night. Bradley has had nightmares just about every night since, and you’ve woken up to help him every time. You can tell they’re starting to get less intense as well, which is a positive sign that he’s getting better. Bradley has been more open with you, which you really appreciated.

Everything seemed to be getting better until last night. Last night was Bradley’s worst nightmare.

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Time, 11:42 PM. Bradley was having trouble falling asleep, and even though you were asleep, you knew he wasn’t. You were trying to be more aware of things like this at night ever since Bradley told you about his nightmares.

Time, 12:31 AM. Bradley had finally fallen asleep.

Time: 2:28 AM. You woke up after hearing some whimpering. As you open your eyes and look around, you see Bradley slightly shaking, his face all scrunched up like he’s stressed out about something. He whimpered more; you were able to make out some words, like "no" and "Mav", You even thought you heard a "help" mumbled in there. You didn’t know what to do or how to help him yet, so you decided to gently place your hand on his. At first he jerked his hand away, but about 30 seconds later he woke up and sat up straight so fast that you thought it would give him whiplash. He starts looking around the room, breathing heavily and eyebrows furrowed. When his eyes finally catch sight of you, he locks eyes with you, and his eyes start to water.

—————————————————————————-

ROOSTERS DREAM

There’s a missile coming right for me. I released my flares to stop it. Success. But there’s another one coming for me. I try my flares, but they’re all out. Shit. I’m going to die. What is he doing? Mav was now flying over me and releasing his flares to stop the missile. Holy shit! He did it! He sav- Mav got shot down.

"MAV!" I screamed. “Mav, do you copy?!" I tried over the radio. No response. "We have to help him! Please!"

"Rooster. He’s gone." I heard Bob say to me.

"No.." I mumble to myself.

Then I felt something on my hand.. and I’m awake, back in my bed, in my room, in my house. I look around, and my eyes land on you.

—————————————————————————-

"Bradley? Bradley, look at me. Are you okay, baby?" You ask him as calmly as you could.

Next thing you know, Bradley breaks out into a sob. You felt so sorry for him, immediately wrapping your arms around him and hugging him close to you.

"Oh baby.. shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you." You whisper to him as his sobs continue.

Bradley’s arms are curled up in between the two of you, holding onto the collar of the shirt you’re wearing. You rest your cheek on his head, taking one of your hands and slowly rubbing his back.

"I-I’m so sorry." Bradley chokes out in between sobs.

“Baby, it’s not your fault.. it’s okay." You calmly replied.

After a few minutes, Bradley manages to calm down enough that he can now breathe normally. You were still rubbing his back when he spoke up.

"That was the worst one yet." He said softly as another tear rolled down his cheek.

Bradley pulled back to sit and pulled his knees into his arms, dropping his head a little.

"If you think you can.. do you wanna talk about it?" You ask carefully, not wanting to scare him.

"It was just so realistic. It was exactly what happened that day.. I-.." emphasizing the ‘exactly’. He released a big sigh before continuing, "Y/N, he almost died. I almost lost Maverick. I’ve already lost my father and my mother, I don’t know what I would do if I lost Mav too. I mean, I pushed him out of my life for years, and I really regret it. But if I lost him right after we made up.. I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself."

At this point, you had a tear rolling down your cheek. When Bradley noticed this, he immediately started apologizing for making you cry, putting his hand on your cheek and wiping your tear away. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch and let out a breathy laugh.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to such a sad and truthful confession from Bradley. You leaned in closer to rest your head on his shoulder and give him a big hug. Bradley loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming wet from his still-falling tears.

"Bradley I love you so much, I don’t think you even know. I am so grateful that both you and Maverick are back and safe.” Because if you died, I would kill you." You say the last part with a teasing tone.

You feel Bradley’s body shake in your arms as he laughs at your joke. You release Bradley from your hug and give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Your hand softly holds the back of his head as his hands rest gently on the small of your back. You pull back and rest your forehead against his, looking into his eyes.

"So.. you better now, baby?" You ask Bradley.

"Almost.. I think I’ll feel even better if you kiss me again." Bradley says while looking at your lips and back up to your eyes, pouting his lip a little and giving you puppy dog eyes. You lean your head back and laugh at his expression, but ultimately end up giving him another kiss to the lips.

When you both lay down again to go to sleep, Bradley wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into your shoulder.

"I love you, Bradley." You say barley above a whisper, not sure if he even heard it.

"I love you too, Y/N, thank you, my love." He replied.

Needless to say, you both ended up falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

A day on the water

Summary: Penny and Maverick invite you and Bradley for a day out on their boat

Warnings: just pure sweetness and fluff, nothing dirty, water/big bodies of water, use of Y/N

Words: 1.3k

Note: this is my first time writing anything, if there is anything I can improve please let me know! Hope you enjoy :)

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

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Work for Bradley had been more on the heavy side this week, so when Penny and Maverick had invited you and Rooster on a day out on the water on Penny’s sail boat, he was quick to accept the invitation. When Bradley had told you about your plans for Sunday with Penny and Mav, you were more than thrilled.

Saturday night you and Bradley had a night in, watching your favourite movies and just embracing each other to decompress after a long week of work. Then Sunday rolled around and you were so excited to get to spend a day on the water with Maverick, Penny, and especially, Bradley. Although you and Bradley were in no rush, you packed everything up for the day an hour and a half before you left.

Around 12:30 you and Bradley got to the dock where Penny and Mav were. You were wearing your bathing suit and one of Bradley’s shirts, which was so big on you it went down half your thighs. Rooster was wearing his swim trunks which were pineapple print, and one of his dads old Hawaiian button up shirts. When you got on the boat, Penny greeted you with a hug while Maverick gave you a warm hearted smile.

You talk to Penny as Bradley heads over to Mav to talk to him. “Oh my gosh Penny, you look great! Thank you for inviting us!” You start the conversation. “It’s no problem really, Pete was telling me that Bradley was having a tough week at work and we haven’t seen you in a while, so I thought we should make it a double date!”

After a little chit chat, the boys untie the boat from the dock, and you all take off. Penny had put on a mixed playlist and ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac started playing. You smiled contently as you made your way to sit down on one of the benches. When you were seated, you took your shirt off and grabbed the sunscreen from your bag. As you started to apply the sunscreen Bradley had started making his was to you. You had decided to wear a simple but cute blue bathing suit, showing a little cleavage, but not too much because you wanted to be more modest than some of the other bathing suits only Bradley gets to see. You look up at him with a sweet smile and he leans down to you to whisper “You look good y’know?” His face changing to a more lustful look. You smile even bigger and hit him playfully on the arm and quietly scold him. “Bradley Bradshaw! We are here to spend time with our friends, get your mind out of the gutter!” Bradley starts laughing which makes you start laughing as well. Both of you calm down, and Bradley offers to put sunscreen on your back.

The four of you collectively agree to stop for a bit in the middle of the water to relax for a while. “Y/N, wanna come help me get lunch ready?” Penny asks, once the boat is anchored down. “Of course! Be right there!” You reply. Turning and kissing Bradley on the cheek before getting up to help. You only take a few steps away before Bradley shouts out “Lookin’ good honey!” You turned and gawked at him, your face flushed, Bradley and Maverick trying to hold in their laughs at your expression. You continue on to help Penny get the food out of the containers and onto some paper plates to eat.

After you all had ate, everyone was just relaxing, listening to music, watching the ocean, and talking a bit more. That’s when ‘Great Balls of Fire’ by Jerry Lee Lewis came on and you just had to get up and dance with Bradley. So, you stood up and grabbed him by the hands pulling him off the bench and into an open space of the boat. You of course knew the meaning of this song to him and Mav, but you also loved this song and wanted to dance. As you and Bradley danced to the song, the four of you sang along and laughed throughout. During the verse,

“Kiss me baby.. Mmmm feels good”

Both Pete and Bradley kissed their girls tenderly on the cheek. As the song ended, Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and spun you around with a smile big enough it was making the corners of his eyes crinkle. When he set you down, you wrapped you hand around his waist, lean up on your tip toes and connect your lips to Bradley with pure love. You took it all in as he sweetly kissed you back, but then you feels his hands creep up you sides.. and he starts tickling you. You burst out laughing and pull away from him, trying to pry his hands off of you. While Bradley continues to tickle you, he lifts you up and walks to the edge of the boat. You quickly catch on to what he’s doing and start playfully hitting him saying things such as “Don’t you dare Bradshaw!” And “I’ll get you back you Rooster!” And finally.. Bradley drops you off the side of the boat, but before you fell too far you grabbed him and pulled him in with you. You both fell into the water giggling and soaked. While Bradley swam over to you, Penney and Mav came to the edge of the boat to make sure you were okay. The only confirmation they needed was hearing your love filled laughs. When Bradley swam over to you he pulled you in, kissing the top of your head and giving Mav a thumbs up. You turned to Rooster and tried to look mad at him, but the more you looked into those brown puppy dog like eyes, your face lightened and you pulled him in for another sweet kiss on the lips. Tasting the salt water on his lips, you moved yours hands to the bottom of his hair on his neck. Then you heard someone say from the boat “Get a room will y’a?!”, you and Bradley separate and looks up to see Penny hitting Pete on the arm while Maverick was chuckling to himself. Just to show Mav, you quickly threw yourself onto Bradley, jokingly sloppily kissing his face and shoving the both of you underwater. When you came back up you swam to the ladder and got back on the boat while teasing Maverick by saying “That good enough for you?” Maverick just shakes his head and laughs at the two of you looking like wet dogs. Bradley notices how you start to shiver a little, he slowly slides his arm around your shoulders and guides you to the bench you were on before and sits you there. He goes into the bag you had packed nice and early this morning and got the towels out. He wrapped your towel around your shoulders and his around his hips. Bradley sits down next to you and once again puts his arm around you and starts rubbing your arm and bringing you in closer to him to try and warm you up. A little smile creeps up onto your face as you snuggle into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. You look over to Maverick who also has his arm draped over Penny’s shoulder, he smiles widely at you. “You don’t know how happy it makes me seeing you two together. You remind me so much of Carole and Goose. The way Rooster cares for you, Y/N and how you guys goof around together. It makes me miss your parents Rooster, but it makes me feel like they’re still here, their spirits in you two.” Maverick admits. You couldn’t help the happy tear that fell down your cheek onto Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley looked at you, then kissed your forehead. “I love you so much Y/N/N” Bradley says to you. “I love you too Bradley” you say back with the sweetest smile and a peaceful look in your eyes.

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Thank you for reading!! If you have any suggestions for change or improvements let me know! I hope you enjoyed!

Your homie just saw Top Gun Maverick and whoowee I loved the plot🥰

The plot:

REQUEST ARE OPEN

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Life As We Know It

Word count: 11k

Summary: What happens when your friends die, and you and your ex-boyfriend gain custody of the baby? (requested from: 🦔)

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

Bradley was watching the football screen on the flat TV. Meanwhile you sat on the other end of the three seater sofa reading. It was amusing that after all these years Bradley was still a big fan of the New York Jets. He always dreamed of having a flat screen TV, and now here he has it. Instead of reading your book, you were staring at Bradley longingly.

Under no circumstances have you ever thought that you and he would ever meet again. But after your best friend Malia and her husband died in an unexpected car crash, it left their 3 month baby girl without parents. To your surprise under Malia and Caleb's will, you and Bradley Bradshaw were written out as the God parents.

They must have written it before you and Bradley had broken up. It was already terrible seeing your ex boyfriend again after your friends died, but even more horrible when the estate lawyer revealed that both of you would hold custody over small Giovanna. Not to mention the grief of losing your college best friend so sudden and quickly. 

It wasn't ever in your plan to have kids this soon in your life. But you had to do it for both your friends. You had given up your personal space, and lived at Bradley house for the babygirls sake. Bradley had turned down promotions, you gave up your freedom to travel, Bradley would have to cancel out on his friends multiple times for the baby and both of you sacrificed your sleep as well. But the one thing Bradley could not let go of was his grudge on you for cheating on him.

You understood where he was coming from, you would probably feel the same if you were in his shoes. But it made it a bit awkward and uncomfortable to live with him at times. All you could do was accept accountability for your stupid actions, and move on. If you could go back in time to redo the past you would one hundred percent take back your actions of going home with a different person that wasn't Bradley.

As you stared at him over the top of your book with your legs stretched out you couldn't resist and thinking how different things could have been. Bradley had grown up after 2 years, he bulked up and grew muscle. His once fair skin is now a beautiful caramel color. The shaggy curls that fell on his forehead were turned into a sharp regulation cut. His honey burnt eyes looked tired after all the baby trouble, but he still looked good.

Bradley probably could feel your sharp gaze at him but he didn't dare take his eyes off the tv. After moving in with Bradley, he didn't spear you a second of his attention which was understandable yet so very irritating. He was aware and alert of all his surroundings and he most definitely knew you were admiring his side profile instead of your book.

To add more sound above the play-by-play commentary on TV, on the baby monitor resting on the coffee table Giovanna started to cry.

"Not it." 

Both of you said at the same time touching your nose. For the past 3 cries you had lost nose-goes. You knew you lost this one but you didn't want to move off the couch.

"I said it first." Bradley commented not bothering to shift his gaze at you. You closed your book frustrated, it wasn't fair that Bradley had faster reflexes than you.

"Rock, paper, scissors for it." You put your fist out towards him desperate not to go up. For a second you swore you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. Which did make your heart skip a beat since nowhere near you did he ever look happy.

"No, you lost. Go." Bradley leaned back against the couch feeling no sympathy for you.

You left the living room with a sigh, making your way upstairs to the nursery. Right now Bradley was probably grinning now since your bothersome presence was gone. You twist the door knob and you're greeted with the most lovely high pitched crying you have ever heard.

"Hi Gigi." You muttered to the hysterical infant. Gently you reached down into the crib and picked up Giovanna, making sure to hold up her head. Based on your forearms against her warm bottom, you could tell she needs a change of diaper. "I got you honey."

After changing a diaper for months, you moved into the changing table, placing her small tense body down on the thin cot. When Bradley found out about the death of Caleb, he didn't waste a second on moving all the nursery items out of Malia and Caleb's house into his small home. You asked him if you could help assist in the move but Bradley coldly said he would do it himself.

But out of this major step up he made in his life, the thing that pulled on your heartstrings the most was Bradley had painted the spare room sky blue, and added small white clouds to the walls. To the baby it didn't matter where she was, but to Bradley it was important she still got her room.

You hand blindly tapped around the shelf under the wooden changing table for diapers and felt nothing. You poked your head down remembering you had forgotten to grab the case of diapers down stairs, and restock the changing table. Giovanna mouth opens wide in a quivering wail, gums bare, and chin trembling. Her tiny brows knitted together.

You moved to the crib grabbing the small baby monitor and speaking into the small sound system.

"Bradley, could you please bring the diaper box up please?" You felt embarrassed to even talk to him, the shame of your mistake all those years ago still haunting you. It took a second before any word was spoken by him.

"I don't remember losing this round." Bradley's raspy voice had you fluttering eyes shut. Before you could start begging, Bradley spoke again. "Hey but kiss G goodnight for me." Then it was utter silence.

I cheated on Bradley. I deserve this. I cheat on Bradley. I deserve this. I cheated on Bradley. I deserve this. You said to yourself and you quickly dashed downstairs for the pampers

⊹☆~⟡⋆

You got little Giovanna every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Bradley got her Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. It's like you were a team but a broken one. Holding on for the sake of the child. The days Bradley or you got her, of course one another still helped around for a little but then you were completely free.

It was Thursday morning and Bradley and you were moving through the kitchen doing your separate routines together. Bradley was holding small Giovanna in her strong arms feeding her a small bottle of formula milk. Meanwhile you made a yogurt parfait adding your granola and fruit in an aesthetically pleasing manner.

When you cooked breakfast, you always made extra for Bradley. Stubbornly Bradley would never take it. So on occasion you would slip it into the passenger seat of his bronco so he had no choice but to take it. Always you made extra for him even if he didn't eat it.

In the fridge there were definitely sections. The top shelf was yours, the bottom one Bradley's, and the middle one just condiments and baby formula. You would sneak the Tupperware leftovers into his bare section. Then the next time you were in the fridge the Tupperware box was back on your shelf.

When it was Bradley's turn to take care of the baby, he usually had iceman's wife kindly babysit her, as he went off to work or sometimes just called in sick and stayed home with Giovanna. By this time Bradley was usually out the door, so for a second you thought he was waiting for breakfast.

"Hey I was wondering if you can do a favor for me?"

Your eyes immediately snapped up at Bradley as you never heard those words for him before. Obviously he wasn't looking at you though, staring at the small baby in a pink onesie while she perfectly sat in his arms. The picture of Bradley in his navy green flight suit holding a small Giovanna would forever be tattooed in your mind.

"Yeah?" You asked, feeling a bit too excited for your own good. You went back to adding strawberries in your yogurt since he wouldn't yet look at you.

"I got this important briefing today." You glanced at him. Bradley set the bottle down on the counter before moving the baby upright. Her face over his shoulder as he patted her small back. "And Sarah can't watch G for me today."

You already assumed what the next words lined up. But you didn't jump at the chance to help him, your shoulder slumping down since of course this was a baby related matter. When you didn't respond yet Bradley rolled his eyes, forcing him to get the words out he didn't want to be spoken out loud.

"...So I was wondering if you could take care of her for today?" Once the infant let out a small burp Bradley cradled her back down into his arms. Your eyes didn't leave your yogurt this time. This could be your chance to get on Bradley's good side. For those awkward football nights to become a comfortable hangout. Yet your mind wondered back to when he didn't bring the pamper box up for you.

So out of pettiness you twisted the circle lid on to your bowl and said: "I don't remember today being my day to take care of her."

With that you grabbed your breakfast, left his yogurt parfait on the counter and exited the kitchen. Leaving Bradley standing there with his jaw clenched, holding Giovana in his arms.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

Maybe if I wasn't an asshole yesterday she would have helped me. Bradley thought to himself, staring down at the 4 month baby in his arms.

"Alright, I guess today it’s ’take your goddaughter to work day.’ " Bradley glanced at the yogurt and with his free hand, stretched his arm out to grasp the container. Just this once, I'm eating for me not for her. He moved to the closet where the baby's Winnie the pooh bag was. He ducked down and pressed his shoulder against the wall before standing up properly and getting the strap off the hook and onto his shoulder.

"I know I almost traded you today. But don't give me a hard time for it, please." Bradley said in a baby tone holding Giovanna's small body in one arm and his yogurt in the other. The small girl made a small cooing noise as he made his way out of the house.

"Yeah I know, your godmother looked pretty today." Bradley admitted to the baby. You always looked pretty, but Bradley just had to pretend he didn't see it, for his own sake.

When Bradley got to hangar late everybody looked at him as he made his late entry. Looking like a professional godfather with a diaper bag over his shoulder, and holding a black stroller basket in his hand. He heard some of his coworkers laugh and Maverick looked at him like he was crazy.

"Rooster you can't have babies-"

"I'm sorry that it's such an inconvenience to you that her parents died." Bradley angrily stated, leaving his godfather speechless. He wasn't sure if he spoke for the baby or for his younger self as well. "Listen, I'm sorry. But I don't have anybody to watch her. She's asleep, but the moment she starts crying I'll go out into the hall and take care of it." 

With that Maverick helplessly directed Bradley to the open seat in the back. Bradley moved down the aisle taking the seat and setting the portable baby basket on the floor and set the Winnie the pooh bag down as well.

His ears were tuned into the flight instruction Maverick gave, but his attention was on the baby asleep in the basket. With Bradley’s boot propped up on the edge of the basket, he gently tipped it back and forth, rocking her gently.

After that Bradley had to deal with finding where to change her since there was no fold out table in the men's room. Realizing Giovanna's onesie was too small for her, having multiple women gush over the baby, and learning that Giovanna likes yogurt when he placed a dot of it by her lips. Natasha watched over Gigi in the rec room as he did his flight practice.

The moment Bradley was back home around 4 o'clock. He went straight to your room that used to be his spare bedroom. Giovana cradled in his arms, ready to pass you the baby, now since he got home. This time around Bradley didn't even knock, opening the door and seeing you laid on on your bed with your phone in your hand.

A funny thought tickled his brain that it would be nice to lay next to you. Especially since you looked so peaceful and uninterrupted. It reminded him of the days you waited for him at home in your shared apartment with open arms.

"I gotta shower, you watch the pumpkin for a bit." It wasn't a greeting or question, it was a demand as he went over to the other side of the bed and placed the baby in your arms. A fond look over took your eyes now that you had the baby once in your arms again. That second Bradley immediately missed having Giovanna warm body in his embrace.

"So how did it go?" You hesitantly asked not at all bother by the fact he just bursted in here. Bradley stood there for a few seconds debating whether to rant or not.

"Swell." Was all Bradley could say remembering he had spilt milk all over his car seats. Bradley left the room with no other words being said. Once he got to his master bedroom he realized his shower only shot out cold water. Last month he would prance into the extra bedroom and shower there since the water was always warmer.

Now with his ex-girlfriend in the other room, he would just have to suck it up and deal with the ice cold water. But today the idea of showering with cold water left Bradley shivering. So he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and white t-shirt and walked down the hall to your room.

Since he wanted to use your shower Bradley knocked on the door this time before letting himself in. The moment he set foot through your door he felt somewhat better seeing you taking a picture of Giovanna. He felt the tightness in his shoulder disappear for a second when you looked up at him.

"Can I use your shower? Mine only sprays cold water." Bradley found himself looking at you way longer than he usually does too caught up in the scene before him.

"Yeah go for it." You casually said looking back at the baby and letting out a delighted squeal. "Gosh you're so cute G! You're like the doll I always wanted." His feet were pasted to the ground forgetting why he was here. A small smile pulled on his lips; Bradley always thought you would make a great mother for his kids. He almost wanted to tell you he loved you at that moment.

Your eyes looked back at him and that’s when his feet directed him to the bathroom. It was a very odd feeling, being in the shower and feeling safe that you were behind the door.

Once Bradley got out of the shower he thanked you, but found himself yearning to be in the same room as you two girls.

"Do you mind if I sit for a little?" Bradley pointed at the spot by the edge of the bed. He had no right to ask that especially with the way he had been ignoring you for the past month. You hummed a response and Bradley took a seat. He had nothing to talk to you about besides the baby. "Did you see the little rash on her thigh?" He asked, turning to look at you.

You grabbed one of your silk pillows before setting down sleepy Giovanna on the nice material. "Yeah. Don't worry we put baby powder on before the diaper this time so she should be good." Your attention was on Bradley once again and there was nothing he could do besides feel embarrassed about how badly he wanted to kiss you at that moment.

"You know she likes yogurt?" Bradley stupidly announced not knowing what more to say.

"Does she?" You perked up, raising your brows.

"Oh yeah. You should have seen it." Bradley laid back against the foot of the bed wanting to see Giovanna sleep. "Got a finger full and put it by her mouth to try, and she ate it without making a face." The soft rise and fall of the little baby’s chest made Bradley smile. Babies were such a blessing, for a second Bradley was glad she was too small to understand that her parents had passed away.

In this moment laying next to Gigi, Bradley felt drained from the day's events and sleepiness overtook him. Closing his eyes to rest his eyes lids for a second. Slowly starting to grow unconscious.

"You took the yogurt?" Was the last thing Bradley heard before he had completely blacked out on your bed.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

Not a day went by that you didn't think about Bradley accidentally falling asleep in your bed. Both Giovanna and Bradley had tired each other out passing out side by side. You kept telling yourself it was the pure utter exhaustion that had Bradley out like a light in your bed, not because he wanted you close... But why the hell would he sit down in the first place?!

You had thrown a blanket over him and an hour later he had woken up. Automatically you thought he would leave but he got up and gently placed Gigi in the middle of your bed, before laying down in your bed. What the hell?! Bradley hated you, the hell was he doing casually laying in your bed, like he did this everyday... a few years ago he used to.

Bradley didn't bring up the sleepover in your room, nor did you. It was the same routine with Bradley after that, grocery shopping together, occasionally greeting each other good morning, him watching football while you read on the couch, trying to get Giovana to say her first words.

Once when you were on the couch you had blacked out while doing a word search. Yet somehow the next morning you woke up in your own bed. You didn't ask Bradley but you were 100% sure that he had tucked you in. But obviously you didn't ask.

Slowly but surely you had a feeling that Bradley was warming up to you. Like the past could maybe stay the past and you could work together, to make eachother life easier. That's why you made sure to butter Bradley up before he realized that you could be trusted once again.

Everytime he lost in nose-goes you volunteered to check on Giovanna instead, when he lost his keys you helped him look, when he came back home you offered up your shower before Bradley could ask.

On a Monday afternoon when he came back home rather late, you had Giovanna on your lap playing with the rainbow stacking ring toy. Bradley was wearing civilian clothes so this must have been one of the rare nights he went to the Hard Deck. His Hawaiian shirt was a blue decorated with black palm trees, you were certain he wore that shirt the day he had planned you a surprise birthday party many years ago.

"Hey." Bradley passed by the living room, moving to his room not caring to talk to you like usual.

"Hi," You threw your head back following his every movement. "Do you wanna know the score of the game?" Bradley stopped in his tracks and smirked a bit. You never cared much for meatheads pushing each other on a field before so he was amused.

Bradley rested his hand on the white stair ball finial, and propped his chin on his hand. "Tell me."

"Eagles 25 and Buccaneers 11." You started bouncing your leg making Giovanna gently coo. Bradley pressed his lips together, trying not to smile.

"Did you search that up?"

You shook your head and lifted your head up focusing on Giovanna instead. "No." The baby grasped the red ring sliding it down on the pole "I watched it." You timidly confessed.

"Did you?" Based on the sound of his voice you could tell he was smiling. Not being able to see his facial expression reminded you of when he was deployed and you could hear the warmth in his voice through the phone. "Since when do you watch football?"

"Today when I missed you sitting next to me." You muttered so he couldn't hear. You grabbed a green ring and slid it on to the pole. Giovanna burbled in disagreement, her small hands pushing the ring up and out of the pole.

You thought Bradley had left but his raspy voice had your blood pumping rapidly through your body. "Since what?"

"Nothing"

"No, what did you say?"  Bradley egged on moving off the stairs and returning back to the living room. Everything was left unspoken between you two, so he was pushing your limits wondering if you had the guts to say that to his face.

"I said nothing."

⊹☆~⟡⋆

"Do you need the shower?" You instantly asked Bradley when he had knocked on your door. It broke his heart that you always thought he wasn't here for you. Using your shower was now just becoming some bullshit excuse to come visit you and be close.

Through the reflection of the dark window, you were doing your mascara. Now that your eyes didn't linger on him, he missed your attention now since he didn't have it.

"No, Giovanna toy keyboard doesn't work, and I think I left some spare batteries in your closet." Bradley checked you out since you weren't facing him, his eyes focused on your ass a little longer than necessary.

"Yeah, you can check." You answered. Too busy fixing your appearance to get it yourself. Bradley walked into your cozy room and opened your closet. "Are you sure you want to hear those lovely symphonies she can play?"

Bradley laughed at your sarcastic comment. "Hey if it keeps her happy." His eyes scanned over your selection of clothes before looking at the top shelf. "Honestly I think I'm more addicted to the cat keyboard than she is." He heard you infectious laugh as Bradley grabbed at a navy shoe box with no lid.

The batteries were clearly not in there, but the items in the box had captured Bradley’s attention. It wasn't morally correct to be going through your things, but how could he not when an old polaroid strip of pictures of both of you kissing was in the shoe box. Your closet door opened prevents you from seeing his snooping. 

The photo booth you took that in was so tiny, you were sitting on Bradley lap while the pictures were taken. The Polaroid square of you guys making funny faces used to be in his wallet. It was a bit odd you kept it after all these years but perhaps for the memories?

Curious overtook him and he kept going through the box. His heart did a flip when he realized this box was dedicated to him. There was a movie ticket of your first date, the souvenirs shot glass he got from Florida for you, his beat up cap he thought he lost. A dried dandelion, that you had wished upon to be together forever. A baseball he wrote his number on, and a rock with googly eyes Bradley stupidly made for you one day when you wanted a pet.

Bradley forgot some of these things had completely existed.

"Did you find it?" Your voice had startled Bradley. He stole the pet rock from the box before sliding it back onto the shelf.

"On second thought, I think the meow meow piano sounds just fine with zero sound." Bradley closed your closet giving you a once over before you turned around to face him. "You look beautiful." Bradley's mouth moved quicker than his brain. He felt like he was caught red handed.

Your face lit up at the compliment "Thank you. I'll see you later, Rooster."

Time heals all wounds. For once Bradley might agree with the saying because, for the first time in forever Bradley could forgive your past actions. It wasn't the shoe box that changed his mind, but everything else in-between. You had thrown a blanket over him the night he fell asleep on the foot of your bed. You watched the eagles game to tell him the score. Made him food even if he didn't eat it. Always giving him your full attention, every time he talked to you.

The truth was Bradley had never stopped loving you. It was hard enough already that one of Bradley's best friends had died, but to make it worse they were the 2 people that had brought you and Bradley together. Bradley was just a chauffeur at their wedding, a little lost between careers. Meanwhile you were one of the cute bridesmaids that stood besides the bride on the steps. Wearing a silk lavender gown that fits you like a glove.

Melissa and Caleb were nice people, so they had let Bradley sit at one of the tables during the wedding at the fancy country club. Bradley's eyes were burning into you. The moment you recognized his piercing gaze, you shot him a smooth wink with a gentle smile. The small gesture did something to him. Feeling recognized and reassured in a crowd where he knew no one.

After eating the food the caters had so kindly served, he went back to the black SUV, not wanting to overstay his welcome. Bradley sat there for a while listening to music with his seat reclined. That's when he heard the knock on the window. The bridesmaid hadn't had her fun yet.

With a smirk Bradley rolled down his window.

"I got you cake. Was wondering if I could sit with you?" You licked some frosting off your finger holding a plate of lemon cake and a bottle of champagne. Bradley unlocked the passenger door for you. One thing led to another and the chauffeur had his fun with the bridesmaid. That's where it had all begun. If it weren't for Bradley's unemployment crisis, then he would have never met you at Melissa and Caleb's wedding. The thought genuinely scared him.

That's why it felt like a punch to the gut when both of you were announced as Giovanna godparents. Melissa and Caleb thought both of you were made for each other. The night of their wedding you had catched the money bouquet you had pointed the flowers at him and said: “Baby it’s gonna be you and me up there next!” That day was the first time he met you, and technically you were a complete stranger, but he believed you.

There was this regret that lingered, when you had moved into his house. If Bradley forgave  you for cheating before then the pair of you could have been living together for a long time now. He wasted time that could have been. Lots of if’s played on his mind. If you and him hadn't broken up, Melissa and Caleb probably wouldn't have gotten into a car crash. If Melissa and Caleb didn't die, Giovanna would still have parents.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

It was crazy to know that you had spent 2 months raising Giovanna, and living with Bradley. It was Thanksgiving. Which lands on a Thursday, so Bradley had responsibility over 5 month Giovanna. The little girl was growing too now. Her hair was getting a little longer so you had to brush it down. She could crawl now from Bradley back to you and her teeth were starting to come in.

For Thanksgiving you had asked Bradley if he had any plans. Last time, you remember he was the life of the party, he was the music, the entertainment, the drunk, playing with the dog, the social butterfly of the function. Actually Bradley was a fun time in general, he had that positive mindset that made everyone smile.

But you were surprised when he said he had nothing going on. All his friends were home for the holidays, so there would be no get together. It broke your heart because Bradley didn't have any other family to celebrate with. Meanwhile you had plans with your sister's family to eat turkey at 6 in the evening. You had invited Bradley but he kindly declined saying he didn't want to intrude. No matter how much you told him he was more than welcome he said he would be fine at home with Giovanna.

Around three o'clock you were already dressed to head to your sister's house. But when you were going down the stairs, Bradley's back was facing towards you. He was sitting on the floor in the living room with Giovanna. The parade was playing on TV and there was a tower of blocks being stacked between them.

G was wearing a white long sleeve shirt with an orange dress that had a small pumpkin embroidered on the center pocket.

"You're such a little pumpkin you know that?" Bradley fondly stared at Giovanna stacking blocks on top of one another. She started to giggle when they all topped over hitting the ground with a soft thud. Bradley could never handle the cuteness, scooping the baby up into his lap, and kissing all over her chubby face. "You're my little pumpkin right?"

She stared up at him with her hazel eye, the exact same color as her father's. Giovanna didn't know how much she meant to Bradley. That he would give her the world if she asked for it. Bradley kissed her forehead giving her a little squeeze.

"Don't grow up on me okay? You're not allowed to."

Everything about him was amazing. Probably still one of your favorite people even after you broke up. You didn't want Bradley to catch you staring for the millionth time longingly. So you shook your head and quickly scurried off the stairs in the direction of the foyer. You slipped your kitten heels on and we're out the door.

When you were in your car and turned the engine on you weren’t able to put the car in drive. The whole week you've been looking forward to this. Your sister made the best mashed potatoes and was an amazing hostess. Always had fun party games that had you doubling over in laughter and fondly looking back at when they were memories. The family picture that always took way too long to get snapped. You'd always loved the sense of family when everyone listed what they were grateful for.

But this time around the two people you were grateful for wouldn't even be at the diner table. You were just outside of the house, and you already missed them. It's safe to think that you might have separation anxiety from those two. Going to Thanksgiving at your sister’s didn't even seem appealing when you could be home with Bradley and Giovanna. Yes, you had grown up with your sister and cousins, but you had a new family now to prioritize and put first.

You backed out of the driveway and instead of going in the direction of your sister's house, you went the opposite way to the grocery store.

Once you had gotten to the Grocery store thirty minutes away from your house, you realized you never cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Last time you tried helping when you were younger, your mother had kicked you out of the kitchen. Saying you did better off watching the parade. Times like this you really wished your mom wouldn't shoo you away, and showed you how to prepare the turkey.

Staring at the freezer full of turkey, you couldn't resist shaking your head feeling nauseous. No way would you be able to cook that, and make it edible. The next best thing was the warm rotisserie chicken under the yellow oven lights. Turkey, chicken- tomatoe, tomato, pretty much the same thing. So you grabbed the warm plastic box and placed it into the cart.

You were ready to turn the dinner into a lazy one, as you reached for the mashed potato mix on the shelf. Then your hand dropped back to your side. Bradley liked the mashed potatoes with the lumps in them because it reminded him of his mom, since she never had the patience to fully smash them down. You ditched the artificial mashed potatoes and went back to the produce, to grab some real potatoes.

Oh and Bradley also likes pumpkin pie. Never finishes the slice, but he likes the thought of one. Maybe he would prefer brownies and ice cream, like his mom used to do?

You took a shaky exhale feeling the emotions bubble to the surface, while grabbing a sack of potatoes. The biggest regret you ever made in your life was cheating on Bradley. He was the best boyfriend you ever had, and you had thrown 4 years down the drain like it was nothing. Bradley trusted you to be loyal to him; he told you his fears, secrets, likes, traumas, hobbies, and you didn't even think twice about that.

Tears started to flood your vision while you pushed the cart towards the dessert aisle. You were convinced that you were an awful person. Everything changed after Melissa announced she was pregnant in July. You had been dating Bradley for almost five years and there was zero ring. You tried convincing yourself that you weren't ready for marriage or kids or living together. But with Bradley you never felt so sure in your life.

Bradley said it was never the right time to get married, it's like every other day in the year he was doing a mission or getting deployed. He wanted stability for both of you when you got married. That he was waiting for a point in his career where everything would settle down... but it never did. You didn't care about stability or the right time. Every day felt like the right time for  forever to begin when you were with Bradley. You loved everything that came with Bradley Bradshaw, even down to the crazy deployment set backs.

You got tired of hearing it'll happen tomorrow, or this year, or "soon baby, when everything works out." The world was gonna keep on spinning and you were still waiting for Bradley's perfect moment to strike like the Rooster in him.

Around the time of Melissa's first ultra scan, you were sick of waiting. You had gone out with your sister and a group of her friends to a club. Not somewhere familiar like the Hard Deck but something across town that wasn't Bradley’s scene at all. You were just so pissed at the timing, and everyone growing up without you. 

Then the shots happened, cocktails, and a beer (which you weren't a fan of but you drank it because it was Bradley's favorite). After drinks, it correlated to dancing to the heavy music blasting in the club.

Some guy ended up grabbing at your hips when you were swaying them. You looked around for your friends, none of them in sight. First thing you thought of was: Bradley would not like this. You weren't even remotely attracted to the guy grinding against you and he didn't hold a candle close to Bradley. Yet another thought came in: I also don’t like sitting around waiting for Bradley to get his shit together, so what did it matter if I danced with some random guy who had the same build as my boyfriend?

You couldn't even blame the influence of drinking for what you had done after that. Because you were fully aware that it wasn't right, except you were so numb to it all in that moment you didn't care. But when you had got to sleep in a bed that wasn't Bradley's you immediately regretted it. There would be no church bells, or baby showers after your tramp behavior.

The day after when you were severely hung over, Bradley had called you asking you to come grab a bite with him at your guys favorite burger joint. When You got there you looked and felt horrible, but the moment you sat down he still greeted you with: "Hi beautiful."

Bradley was so happy to see you, and when he leaned down to hug you, you felt disgusted and ashamed with yourself. Bradley had ordered your favorite before you got here. He looked so tall and handsome and he was all yours for those last few minutes. Your food hadn't even been served yet. But you couldn't bear leading a kind hearted man like him on. After a massive exhale you confess your sin while crying immediately.

The only times you have ever seen Bradley heartbroken was when Natasha and Bob had gotten hurt during a training accident, and both anniversary days when Carole and Nick died. Now you were the one to be a part of his pain. Bradley had let you explain yourself through sobs. Not telling you to breathe, or calm down. He made you feel sorry and ashamed.

After that he was gone. Bradley moved out of the apartment first, leaving you with an empty place. Where 4 walls haunted you with the memories built inside. It didn't matter how much you called him because he never answered. With your tail between your legs you went to the Hard Deck to try to show him he still meant the world to you. But none of that mattered to him any longer, and you understood that.

A one night stand and your whole relationship was ruined. You couldn't even look yourself in the mirror after that. All you felt was pure utter hatred for yourself, that the best part of your life was gone because of your own actions. Then it occurred to you that it was better waiting your whole life for Bradley to be ready then, have him out of your life for good.

You ruined your own forever, and now you were forced to deal with the consequences everyday near the love of your life that would never forgive you. Most of your Thanksgiving shopping was spent wiping your eyes, like you have been doing for the past 2 months. Knowing this was your fault.

It was around 5 o'clock when you came back home. When you entered the house with grocery bags marking your arms, Bradley was no longer in the living room.

Not only did you have a breakdown at the supermarket but you still needed to prepare some massive feast you weren't even in the mood to make anymore. But you moved forward.

You didn't do so much besides mash the potatoes, make gravy, sautéed green beans, mac n’ cheese, and brownies. You took the rotisserie chicken out the package and plated it on a cute tray. The dishes containing the food all matched with each other all being white. In Particular, you were a big fan of how cute the gravy boat looked.

You had a rag over your shoulder as you lit a candle on the table. Hopefully Bradley didn't assume you were making a move on him, and just wanted to hang out with him.  After arranging the silverware, and three plates around the table you suddenly felt embarrassed by doing this much. Never have you eaten dinner at the table all together once since you’ve lived here, and if you did eat it was only ever in the living room in front of the tv.

A frown fell on your lips. It felt shameful to walk up stairs and tell Bradley that Thanksgiving dinner was served and ready. It was a very vulnerable feeling to show that you did enjoy his company, and might have even preferred it over your actual family members.

"I thought you were at your sister's."

Bradley sounded as shocked as you felt, when you saw him in the dining room. He was holding Giovanna in his arms and with her tiny hands playing with his dog tags that were tucked in his shirt. Your mouth felt bone dry, standing there awkwardly like you had been caught doing something terrible.

"Well- I uh. I was, I was gonna go and but I thought-"

"You made this?" Bradley pointed at the table with a raised brow. Suddenly the rotisserie chicken in the center felt like the biggest disappointment on the table. Everything felt so pathetic, and you wished the floor had swallowed you whole.

"Mh hm." You nodded. Giovanna's face planted into his chest and Bradley's lips pulled into a small grin. You couldn't tell if it was because of the growing baby in his arms or the Thanksgiving dinner.

"And we're gonna eat together?" All you could do was, nod your head nervously not knowing what was the right answer. The suspense for his feeling about this was killing you.

"If you want. I'm sorry about there being no turkey- I just. I never learned how to prepare one and it was last minute and all but." Your ramble was cut short.

 "No, no I love it. it's perfect." Bradley looked at the mash potatoes fondly. You hoped he would taste the lumps in them later. "You actually care about me." It was hard to tell if that was a question or statement coming from his tone of voice.

"Shut up." You laughed it off like it was nothing.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

What the hell was Bradley doing on this date? He didn't even like Thai food, let alone how busy a trendy restaurant could be. The worst thing about dates was the small talk he had to pretend to care about. By all means the raven haired girl, Caroline across the table from him was very nice and pretty. But mentally he wasn't at the restaurant, he had never disassociated so hard from reality before.

Bradley missed you and Giovanna. It felt like he was counting down the seconds until he got to see you two again. He longed to smell the lavender scent that stuck to your clothes, and the way Johnson & Johnson shampoo smelled in Giovanna hair. The smell in his imagination tickled his nose like he was actually near both of you. Bradley felt the bump in his front pocket, where he carried the flat pet rock he stole from you. It was like he was a little kid with his comfort blanket, somehow carrying the stupid rock made Bradley feel like he was closer to you.

All he could do was nod his head at Caroline pretending he understood everything she was saying. How could Bradley be on a date with another woman when he knew he loved you? After the Thanksgiving meal, it was all set in stone for him that you were all he ever wanted and needed. Bradley didn't have anybody to share that holiday with, and you had gone out of your way to ditch your earlier plans to make and eat dinner with him and Giovanna. Lumpy mashed potatoes, and Brownies with ice cream for dessert just like his mom used to do it.  It warmed Bradley's heart that you still remembered those stupid silly details he would retell about his childhood Thanksgiving. It made him smile that after 6 years of saying you wanted to learn how to cook a turkey, you still didn’t know how. The rotisserie chicken didn’t matter though, what mattered was that you had tried with the intention of eating all together. 

He felt seen and cared for, the exact same feeling he had when he had dated you before you had cheated on him. Always he blamed you for what happened, that was what had him sleeping well at night. Except for the past week straight it wasn't so easy to go to bed. He kept tossing and turning and the thought came to mind: maybe if I married her earlier on, we would still be together.

If Bradley put himself in your shoes then he would get sick of waiting too. He most likely would feel insecure, if you kept on putting the idea of marriage off. So he did come to terms with the thought that maybe you felt like an option instead of a priority. Not most girls wouldn't deal with a guy getting deployed 3 times a year and still wait for him to get back, but you did. From the moment he met you, he recalled you saying long distance relationships were stupid, but for him you sucked it up.

Maybe it was his fault that you cheated on him.

"Bradley?"

Caroline giggled, once he didn't reply to her question. Then his mind floated back into his body, and he was sitting at a table covered with a red cloth and a yellow candle flickering between the two of them. The food had arrived and he didn't even recall seeing the waiter place the dishes down.

"Sorry I get distracted sometimes. What was that?" Bradley raised his brows and glanced at his stake. He didn't even remember ordering either.

They made small talk trying to get to know each other but Bradley was still thinking about you. Random Thought crept in and out like: is she thinking about me too?

Whatever happened to her favorite sleep shirt that used to be mine?

Do you know I stole the pet rock from your box, and keep it in my pocket wherever I go?

Did the scare on your lower back ever healed after you scrapped it against the pool?

Does she still think of me when ‘Great Balls Of Fire’ plays?

Does she realize I carry her to bed when she falls asleep on the couch?

There were so many thoughts left unanswered because Bradley never asked you. Up until now did he actually start making full conversations with you instead of humming replies and using head signals. Bradley never wanted to be home so bad in his life. Even if that meant you reading on the couch, while he watched tv.

Bradley didn't even finish his food before he was pushing his chair out the table and reaching for his wallet. Times like these Maverick words rang in his head: don't think just do.

"I'm sorry Caroline. It was nice meeting you and having dinner, but I gotta go." Bradley picked two bills of one hundred out of his wallet and placed it on the table.

She furrowed her brows staring up at him. He never liked to ditch anybody, but this didn't feel right at all. "Okay... is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, I just feel a bit under the weather." Bradley stood up from the table. Caroline was the move on girl, to help him get back out there and get over you. Turns out Caroline would be the girl that had him miss his ex more. "It was nice seeing you Caroline, have a nice night." She wished him a fair well and he quickly moved out the restaurant before the staff could question his departure.

When he turned the engine on in the Bronco he let out a sigh of relief that he would be heading home.

After the drive back to Coronado, Bradley was unlocking the front door, shaking the keys a few times by the door to alert you he was coming in. The whole ride back, Bradley’s mind left the car thinking about imaginary conversation he would have with you that would most likely not happen. A few fake scenarios about the night ending in a kiss, or hug, and a little further in his bed.

Bradley threw the keys in the ceramic bowl, and took his shoes off. While in the restaurant his lap had felt awfully empty without Giovanna sitting with him. Bradley strolled into the living room and smiled at the sight before him. You passed out on the couch and Giovanna was on your lap fully awake, staring at the kids show on TV, like she could understand the words.

"Pumpkin, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't tire your godmother out?" Bradley asked the baby. Her attention snapped to him and a gummy smile took over her small face. On instinct Giovanna was stretching her small arms out to him. Bradley was such a servant to this girl, because in seconds he was sweeping her off your lap, and holding her high up in the air. Her beautiful giggles had Bradley chuckle. After playfully lifting her in the air a few times he brought her back down to his level.

"You miss me?" Bradley kissed her soft chubby cheek. Bradley took her soft coo's as a yes. "How's my girl doing huh?" He pressed lips on her forehead. Taking an inhale of how her head smells like the yellow Johnson & Johnson soap. Bradley pulled away and with his big finger he booped her small button nose.

"I should put your godmother to bed, huh? Can't leave her down here." Bradley stared at the little girl in his arms waiting for a reply. Obviously she said nothing, just staring up at him with her clueless hazel eyes. He was gonna protect and take care of Giovanna for the rest of her life and he wasn’t mad about it at all. "Gosh you're so cute, I want to eat you." Bradley put her small hand up to his mouth and gently sank his teeth on her small finger. Bradley kissed her hand before looking back at your relaxed face.

"I'm gonna put Gigi upstairs and then I'll come back for you okay?" Bradley reassured your sleeping self, as he went up the creek steps. Once Giovanna was in her crib Bradley moved back downstairs. He made sure everything was put away and locked up, before he went back to the couch where you had fallen asleep.

Bradley had done this a total of 5 times, and he was pretty sure you never noticed. Careful not to wake you, he placed his arm underneath your knees, and his other arm under your back. Bradley easily got you off the sofa. Carrying you always reminded him of how much he used to love doing it. The only light provided was the one shining down on the stairs, so he made sure not to skip or trip any steps.

The old wooden floorboards creaked underneath him, and a small laugh had caught his attention. Bradley looked down at you, in his arms and there was an obvious smile that you were holding back.

"You're such a fucking liar."

Bradley huffed out, once you had the liberty to have a good laugh. Your energy was so infectious he found himself laughing. It left him wondering if you played pretend all the time to have him carry you up the steps. Here Bradley thought he was so slick with bringing you to bed, but it looks like you did notice.

"I saw an opportunity so I took it." You reasoned. Bradley avoided eye contact because if he did look at you, he was sure he might solidify his brewing feelings. There was a part of Bradley that told him that it shouldn't feel natural to hold you like this, but it felt so right.

Bradley got to your room and gently kicked the door open. "Sorry, We don't do free rides here." He placed you on the bed like you were a delicate flower. You rested on your elbows staring at him amused.

"Sorry, What form of currency do you take?" You raised your brows expectantly. First thing that came to mind was a kiss, but he shook his head.

"Just don't let it happen again." Bradley warned as if this wasn't the peak of his night. This little moment felt better than being on a date with some random girl Natasha set him up with.

At the same time both of you spoke.

"How was the date-"

"I'm gonna go cheek on G-"

Bradley wanted to slam his head against the wall for not thinking of any other small talk besides the baby you had in common.

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning Brad." Your cheeky little smile had definitely dropped. He would be lying to himself if he said that you being upset over his absent presence didn't slightly excite him.

"Yeah, Night." Bradley was hesitant to go, but ultimately left, closing your door.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He sighed to himself as he went to Giovanna's room. Once he looked down at the crib he was surprised to see that the little girl had passed out in the short time he went to collect you upstairs. She looked like a little lamb when she slept. Her features were not fully developed, but she looked like her parents. She had Melissa’s straight brown hair, and Caleb’s ears. Bradley never thought he could love a little baby so much in his life. Giovanna was worth every Hard Deck trip and rank he had given up. 

"Sweet dreams G. Scream if you need anything." Bradley kissed the tips of his fingers and then pressed them to her forehead. He turned on the small baby monitor by her crib, made sure she was comfortable before he left her room.

Bradley somehow forgot which way his room was, and magically ended up knocking on your door again. Once he was allowed entrance Bradley, opened the door, and you were still in bed resting against your head board.

"She fell asleep like a little lamb-"

"Do you wanna use the shower?" Both of you spoke above each other. It occurred to Bradley that it might be odd that he was here, considering he only entered to use your shower. For a second he almost thought it was okay for him to be here.

"No, I just wanna talk to you." Your curiosity peaked. Bradley had nothing interesting or planned out to say, he just wanted to be next to you. Bradley decided to be bold and move to the other side of the bed, and lay down with his head against the headboard as well. Your head turned to him, waiting for him to say something. Bradley felt settled knowing he had figured out his feelings on you, but he felt antsy in front you. "What was the score of the game?" Bradley stupidly asked now that he felt all nervous and tongue tied.

Your laugh made him smile. "Uhm hate to break it to you Eagles lost, 33-36."

"No." Bradley said playfully, any other day he would be heartbroken if the Commanders won, but since he was in your bed, it didn't hurt too much.

"Yeah I'm sorry." You nodded in a pitiful manner. There was a silence that fell over both of you after, he couldn't tell if it was comfortable or awkward. He guessed it was uncomfortable since you were quick to speak again. "How was the date?"

"You know-" Bradley thought it was better to lie or settle on the truth. He already laid in your bed, might as well say it how it is. He spoke quickly because looking into your eyes made his stomach flip. "I couldn't really enjoy it, I was missing you guys too much." The words hung in the air finally being said. Your eyes had softened but you had looked straight ahead. A small smile captured your side profile.

"I have the same problem." You admitted making Bradley feel relieved. "Don't worry we missed you too." A grin pulled at his lips. Crazy how far a little communication could get you. "Wait, can I tell you something? But promise you won't think I'm weird or laugh." You sat up against the headboard. It seems as Bradley's confession had started a domino effect and you wanted to let something off your chest as well.

"I promise." Bradley nodded, feeling very good about himself since he had gained your trust.

"Okay." The hesitation flashed before your eyes just like it had with him earlier. You took a deep breath and spoke. "The 3 days the remote control to the TV was lost, I had hidden it so you were forced to talk to me."

Bradley didn't let his jaw drop, or laugh. He controlled his emotions, pressing his lips together, even though inside he was freaking out about it. Your little plotting had worked because in those three days Bradley did start talking to you way more than he usually did. Bradley recalled being very annoyed when he had missed the Eagles game last week, but he wasn’t very upset about it now. It felt good to hear that. It felt even better to know you would go to those measures for him to open up to you. Bradley glanced at your poker face, he had a feeling of the silence and his lack of reaction might be driving you crazy. He didn't want to judge you, so he decided to admit something as well.

"When you kiss Giovanna goodbye, I get a little jealous I don't get a bye bye kiss." Bradley turned to look at you and you started to erupt In a fit of giggles. "You can't laugh." Brad bent one of his legs up, trying not to laugh at himself. Your room was turning into a confessional, because there were a lot of things both of you had on your mind.

"Sorry, I'm not judging at all." You put your hands out in defense. The Thanksgiving dinner, and watching football games for him proved you still cared about him. But hearing it was a whole different feeling. He thought the conversation was over but you revealed another thought. 

"When I go out with a new guy and he does something I don't like. I think Bradley would never."

Bradley hated thinking about you going out with another guy, but it was nice to know that you held him as the standard or expectation. You still thought of him the same way, he did with you. Your eyes anticipated his next admission. Bradley let out a little laugh at how eager you looked.

"Can't laugh." You pointed a scolding finger at him. He put his arms up in surrender like you did not too long ago. Bradley wasn't sure he wanted to admit his thoughts, he was sure that he was way more screwed in the head then you.

"You left a perfume bottle in the apartment when we broke up. Sometimes when I get lonely-" Bradley let out a nervous laugh while shaking his head. He was gonna regret this later. "I spray the perfume on my pillow, so it's like...I'm laying next to you."  Bradley physically couldn't face you, so he started to rub his forehead. There was no laugh, or gasp from you. Just acceptance and no judgement. But he didn't know your facial expression since he was too embarrassed to face you.

"I have a shoe box dedicated to you. It's got souvenirs of our relationship in it."

"I already know that one." Bradley ignorantly blurted out before he could think. A gasp came out of your lips and you swatted his shoulder in disbelief.

"How do you know that?"

Bradley was a red mess now. He was sure his ears were crimson, like every other time he laughed too much or got embarrassed. "When I went to get batteries in your closet. I found the box." Bradley bucked his hips up and reached into his front pocket. He pulled out the flat grey rock with googly eyes.

"I know this was missing!"  You shrieked out snatching the pet rock from out of his palm, the contact made his heart rate pick up. You must go through the box often, if you knew the rock was missing. "Start confessing before I throw Erile at your head." You smiled at him once he finally had the courage to face you again. Erile, that was the stupid rock’s name, he had been trying to figure that out for weeks.

"I don't want to say anything. Your confessions are so mild compared to mine." Bradley chuckled trying his best to maintain eye contact with you. You placed the pet rock on his folded knee.

"Fine, I'll give you two." You hummed and looked up at the ceiling trying to think of some. Still had the cutest thinking face he had ever seen. "Alright, here's one. I learned how to play piano. So I can play great balls of fire because-"

You cut yourself off reaching for the rock but Bradley grabbed it off his knee before you could. Last time he tried teaching you basic piano skills, you ended up on his lap, while you requested him to play song after song.

"Your second one?"

"Every day I listen to the Playlist you made for me." That made him smile. Because he wasn't a passing thought, but one tattooed in your brain. But still your confession was as crazy as the ones he's committed. Bradley pressed down at the plastic googly as and began to state his secret.

"When I get deployed, I take all your past letters out of my attic and put them in my bag. Then when I'm in my bunk, I pretend like I'm reading them for the first time. When in reality I have all of them memorized… I find it crazy that somebody loved me that hard."

"Baby I still love you that hard." You admitted with a laugh. Once you realized what you had said, you were quick to move past it like it didn't happen. Bradley didn't get a chance to say his I love you too, since you moved on to your confession. "I bought some expensive crystals. Hoping it's magic would have you forgive me."

Bradley started laughing, now realizing why he saw pretty colored rocks everywhere around the house. "How's that working out for you?" Bradley smirked.

"Mh well you're talking to me right now, so I'd say pretty damn good." Your laughter is always his favorite melody. He wasn't into the whole hippy chick zodiac thing. But right now- god bless those god damn stupid rocks. This was probably the best night he had in your two months living here with him. Bradley placed the pet rock down on your white sheets, wondering if he should shut.

"I got a good one." Bradley crossed his arms over his chest. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

"Let's hear it." You mimicked his pose crossing your arms as well. It felt like he was picking the petal off a flower. She loves me, she loves me not. She ironically loves me... or not.

"My biggest regret was not marrying you when I had the chance."

That was the final comment that left you speechless. It's like both of you were trying to outdo one another, instead of realizing the things that were being spoken out loud. You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head. Every time you cried your bottom lip would quiver and jutt out, so you bit it to prevent it. The last thing he wanted to do was have you upset with him.

"Bradley I'm so-" Bradley gently brushed his lips over yours. Not long enough to be considered a kiss but maybe an accident. But you were so caught up with the past the action of intimacy went unnoticed by you. "I can't do anything besides say I'm sorry one hundred times. And say some bullshit like I wish I could take back the past. If you gave me a second chance I would not mess it up." You rambled on letting the tears pool at your eyes. Your earlier confessions didn't compare to the amount of emotions that went through your eyes in these few seconds. "Please, you didn't even offer me a second chance. But I would wait now Bradley. Whatever you wanna do, I'm with you. If you want me to change, I would. My biggest regret is even thinking about somebody else when you were everything I have ever wanted."

You sniffled, wiping at your runny nose. A soft smile came on your lips that read, it's okay if you wanna keep pushing me away. None of your love letters when He was deployed had compared to this moment. It felt like everything was right in the universe. All the years of wondering and yearning were being said out loud. Bradley still loved you, and you still loved Bradley. Both of you had always been sure.

"C'mere." Bradley said with open arms. You hesitated before scooting closer and his arms were wrapped around your waist and your face was pressed to his chest. The missing piece of the puzzle was finally put into place. "I forgive you." Bradley muttered into your hair, kissing the crown of your head.

"Really?"

"With my whole heart." Bradley wasn't lying one bit, he forgave you. He was over with all the, ignoring you and pretending like he didn't see your kind gestures. Bradley had figured out his feelings, and never felt so sure of somebody before.

Taking care of Giovanna got stressful sometimes and going through the emotions of lost loved ones was tough. But with each other it felt like you could manage it together. These were the roughest times both of you would be going through, and it was better to do it together then separate.

AHHHHHHH! 🦔 I said give me 3 or 5 days to write this. I meant 10 to 20 business days hahaha. So sorry for the wait, I hoped you liked it. Cheers to my first request <3

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2

Omg y’all this writer right here??? The fics are so freaking done well !! The writing style is so nicely done! The way she writes is like—so addicting?? The plot pulls the reader in so nicely, and the detail is so freaking magnificent !!

Right now I’m reading the “Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw”

And Jesus it’s so good??? The cliffhangers leave you on the edge of your seat !! And the relationship between Bradley and the reader—and the kids! 🥹🥹🥹 ugh it’s so wholesome !!

Ive also been reading the beer boy series omg??? I can’t wait to sit down and read more honestly !!

1000/10 would recommend reading any of their fics really!

All Bradley Bradshaw, all the time. 18+ only.

Welcome to my masterlist! I’ve got a little bit of everything TG:M around here from short one-shots to long series. I mainly write for Rooster, but the other Daggers have found their way here as well. Take a look around below the cut!

Keep reading

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's goofy af you've been warned

WC: 1800+

A/N: I don't know, you guys, I just couldn't get this scene out of my head hahah

Your back is turned when the two men enter the office, so you don’t notice right away that one of them is practically shoving the other inside. You hear the grumbling though.

“I’m fine,” and “Let go,” and “This is a waste of time.”

You glance over your shoulder as one of the nurses places a clipboard outside an exam room and gestures for the men to wait inside. It’s a slow day at the clinic so, after finishing up the notes from your previous appointment, you head over to check the chart before walking in to greet your next patient.

The two men look up when you enter. The younger one is sitting in a chair and the older one has a firm hand on his shoulder as if he’s forcefully trying to keep him there.

“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Y/L/N,” you say, placing the clipboard on the table as the two men say hello. “What seems to be the problem?”

“He hit his head,” the man who’s standing says.

“I’m fine,” the other assures you.

“Hard,” the first man points out.

The seated man rolls his eyes. “He’s overreacting.”

You narrow your eyes slightly and approach them. “What’s your name?” you ask the man with the apparent head injury, crouching down so that you can look at his face up close.

“Don’t you have my chart?” he asks. He's wearing a cheeky grin and you can tell that he's flirting.

“It’s Bradshaw,” the standing man says. “His name. And I’m Captain Mitchell.”

You glance up at the older man. “If you could refrain from answering for the patient, please, Captain,” you say, slightly annoyed.

“Right,” he nods. “I apologize.”

The seated man raises his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a first.”

You move to grab a chair and position yourself in front of him. “Full name and rank?”

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. What’s yours?” the man asks with a bit of a smirk.

You tap on the name tag hanging off your lab coat coolly. You’re not unaccustomed to receiving this kind of attention, however it doesn’t happen too often at work. “What’s the date today, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you ask casually, reaching for your clipboard.

“You don’t have a calendar, Doctor?” Bradley asks.

You glance up at him pointedly. “Are you always this cooperative?”

“This is the kind of shit I have to put up with on a daily basis, Doctor,” Captain Mitchell mutters.

“Well, that’s good news,” you say, smiling up at the man. When he furrows his eyebrows, you clarify, “No noticeable change in personality.”

Captain Mitchell grins wryly. “What a relief.”

Bradley snorts and starts to get up. “We’re done, then?” he asks.

“Not quite,” you say, indicating for him to sit back down.

Bradley sighs wearily but resumes his seated position across from you. He places his hands in his lap and lifts his eyes to meet your gaze with a skeptical expression.

“Are you experiencing any dizziness?” you ask.

“No,” he responds, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hand, slightly unnerved that he’s so boldly watching you. “Headache or nausea?” you ask without looking back up.

“Nope,” he responds.

“Can you count backwards from 100 by seven?”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

You glance up at him sharply. “Would you like to conduct the examination, Lieutenant?”

He sighs and starts counting.

You stop him after several correct numbers and ask, “What is your profession?”

There’s a brief pause during which Bradley lets his head dip to the side to study the contours of your face. You glance up at him expectantly and he looks into your eyes again. “I’m an aviator,” he says nonchalantly, although you notice his chest puff up with pride. As if you don’t regularly meet pilots working at the health clinic on base.

You look down at your clipboard as though you’re reading the questions off the page but, really, you’re just avoiding his gaze because his eyes have a we’re-gonna-fuck look about them and you’re almost starting to fall for it. “Any previous head injuries?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he responds, and you notice the sexy rasp in his voice despite trying very hard to ignore it.

“He crashed his bike into a tree when he was five,” Captain Mitchell chimes in.

Both you and Bradley look up at him with some amusement, having nearly forgotten he was there. You blink at the captain pointedly before returning your attention to the chart in your lap. “I hope he’s better at maneuvering these days,” you comment.

Bradley starts laughing which makes you look up at him in surprise. Captain Mitchell is also chuckling mildly. “He has his moments,” he says.

 You give them a tight smile and rise from your seat, setting your clipboard down. Bradley stands too, towering over you because he’s still so close. You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your chair, and both Bradley and the captain grab your arms to keep you from falling.

“You alright?” Bradley asks.

You nod, straightening out your lab coat and pointing to his chair. “Sit, please,” you say, not meeting his gaze.

“You got it, Doc,” he says, sitting back down. Captain Mitchell smirks in amusement.

“Tell me what happened,” you say, approaching your patient confidently to perform a physical exam.

Both he and the captain start recounting two vastly different versions of the same event while you check Bradley’s vital signs. Once they’ve finished speaking and you’ve located the swelling on Bradley’s head, you glance between the two of them skeptically. Then you pull a penlight out of your lab coat and say, “Follow the light.”

You watch Bradley’s pupils constrict in response to the light but, when you move the penlight to one side, his eyes remain fixed on yours.

“The light, Lieutenant,” you remind him.

Bradley shifts his gaze to the right as instructed, but every time the movement of your penlight crosses the midpoint, he lets his eyes linger on yours for a split second. You flick off the light and observe as Bradley’s pupils return to normal size. His mouth quirks upward slightly but he never breaks eye contact.

“Good,” you say, dropping the penlight back into your pocket. “Now you can stand.”

Bradley gets out of his seat while Captain Mitchell watches on cautiously, as though he expects him to fall over. When the captain steps closer, Bradley holds out his hand.

“I’m fine, dad.” Bradley’s sarcastic tone indicates that the captain is, in fact, not his father, but his companion’s affectionate expression in response probably puts him in the category of loveable uncle who has frequently – albeit unsolicitedly – stepped into the role. Bradley straightens his back and looks over at you calmly, awaiting your instructions.

“Stand on one foot for me,” you say.

Bradley smirks. “Anything for you, Doc,” he says, bending his left leg upwards.

Captain Mitchell lets out a tired sigh, shaking his head, while you attempt to not roll your eyes. “You can put your foot down, Lieutenant,” you say crossly.

“You want me to put my foot down, Doc?” he responds suggestively.

“Rooster!” the captain warns.

“I’m kidding!” Bradley chuckles. “She knows.” He extends an arm out to point at you. “You know, right?” he verifies, glancing over at you.

“I apologise.” Captain Mitchell shakes his head again.

“That’s the second time,” Bradley notes.

You raise your eyebrows at the two of them. “Well,” you say. “That’s another good sign.”

“What?” they both ask.

“His sense of humor is intact,” you say.

Bradley grins at you. “You think I’m funny?”

The captain closes his eyes.

You fight to keep a straight face. “As long as you think you’re funny, Lieutenant.”

“Do you recommend treatment, Doctor?” Captain Mitchell asks.

You look at him with a small grin. “For the humor?”

Bradley snorts but the captain considers your question. “Might come in handy,” he says.

Bradley lets out a sarcastic, “Ha-ha.”

“No,” you say. “He’s fine.”

“Told you,” Bradley mutters to the captain.

“But,” you say, “if you start experiencing any of these symptoms” – you hand him a brochure on concussions – “come back in and we can do a more comprehensive assessment.”

Bradley takes the brochure from your hand. “I’ll do that,” he says with a nod.

…

As you’re heading back to your office, you notice Bradley eyeing you from the front desk. He mutters something to Captain Mitchell, in response to which the latter glances in your direction before looking back at Bradley pointedly. Then, he gives him a couple of claps on the shoulder and heads out the door.

Having arrived at the door to your office, you don’t linger to find out what Bradley is up to. But, just as you’re about to sit down at your desk, Bradley’s head peeks in through the partially open door. He drums on the doorframe with his knuckle despite already having gotten your attention.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” you ask, walking back around your desk toward him.

Bradley grins sheepishly. “May I come in?” he asks.

Truthfully, you’re surprised he’s not already inside. You gesture for him to enter.

“I uh,” he starts, hesitating when you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing. “For being an idiot.”

You raise your eyebrows but give him a warm smile. “We can blame the head injury.”

Bradley nods slowly. “Let’s,” he says. “Although, I’m afraid it’s permanent.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

He cringes slightly but it quickly turns into a grin. He takes a deep breath, holding your gaze. “I like you,” he says bluntly.

You’re slightly taken aback by his directness, so you simply stare at him for a moment.

 “I hope that’s okay,” he adds when you don’t say anything.

“Uh, sure,” you respond awkwardly, panicking slightly because he’s so tall and broad-shouldered and charming.

“I sort of want to take you out,” he says, taking a step forward.

You sort of wonder how often he pulls this kind of thing. You’re nothing if not a veteran skeptic. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Bradley watches you with a knowing smirk. “But do you want to?” he asks.

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Bradley sticks his hands into his pockets, his eyes sweeping you up and down. “It matters to me,” he says.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I can’t go out with a patient” –

“I’m not your patient anymore,” he says, the low rasp of his voice even more persuasive than his words.

“You’re a patient of this clinic,” you say.

“I can find another clinic,” he responds.

You lower your gaze, pursing your lips to keep from smiling too widely. “I work long hours, Lieutenant. I don’t exactly have much time to socialize.”

When you glance back up at him, Bradley flashes you a dazzling grin that demonstrates how fantastically unconvinced he is that your busy schedule is truly a reason for concern. “I haven't heard a no, Doctor,” he points out.

“You haven't heard a yes.”

Bradley chuckles. “That’s fine,” he says, taking several steps back toward the door. “I’m not in a hurry.” And with these words, he walks out of your office.

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics. The rest of the tags are in the comments!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

His laugh at the end

𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝗚𝘂𝗻 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟲 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝗚𝘂𝗻: 𝗠𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 (𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟮)

okay so I’m playing with this idea of using Taylor Swift’s album ‘Speak Now’ for Top Gun: Maverick imagines playlist. If all goes to plan the first one should be up within a few days! (Question marks mean I might switch characters) Let me know if you have any suggestion:)

Mine: Rooster x reader

love was never something you saw happening, until you met Bradley. Is it as easy as you think it’ll be?

Sparks Fly: Jake x reader

You were complete opposites. You were a barely stacked deck of card, but he’s a full on rainstorm. Jake can show you how to let go with him.

Back to December: Bob x reader

Visiting Bob after the downfall of your relationship. You broke his heart, can he forgive you?

Speak Now: Bob x reader

You shouldn’t have came to the wedding of the groom you’re in love with. You have one last chance to tell him how you really feel. Hopefully he feels the same.

Dear John: Maverick x reader

You should’ve known that falling in love with an older man wouldn’t work. It was doomed from the start. 

Mean: Dagger squad x reader

No one believes in you. They all think you climbed ranks simply by your last name, Kazanski. You only have one thing on your mind....prove them wrong.

The Story of Us: Natasha x reader (?)

It was suppose to be the perfect love story. Now you have no idea how she feels and it’s driving you crazy.

Never Grow Up: Dagger Squad x Mitchell!reader

The dagger squad loves you like a little sister and you’re growing up too quick on them.

Enchanted: Natasha x reader

After running into a certain avaitor during a night out you just have one question; is she as enchanted as you are?

Better Than Revenge: Bradley x reader

He messed up. You show him what he is missing out on.

Innocent: Maverick x reader

Years passed and you can only hope his heart has grown from when you last saw him.

Haunted: Jake x Reader

You thought you had him all figured out. Even after he left you, his memory still haunts you.

Last Kiss: Bob x reader (?)

A sleepless night leaves you up thinking about a sweet love that you never thought would end.

Long Live: Dagger Squad x reader

A family forged in a small fighter town can never be broken.

Let Me Help (Part 3)

Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

Summary: Some friends come to visit

Warnings/tags: Bob is a huge nerd, mention of injury, fluff, mention of forgetting to eat, soft Bradley

***************************************************

There's a knock at the front door.

You're about to get up to go and get it, but then remember your ankle, so you let Bradley go and get it.

"Oh, hey, Bob," he says. "Y/N's in the living-room."

Bob steps in - and stops dead when he sees you.

"I knew it!" he says.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"I knew you were hiding something."

You blush. "Sorry. I shouldn't have hidden it from you."

"It's fine," he says. "But I'm never believing anything you say ever again - about injuries, I mean."

You smile. "I guess I deserve that."

Bob leans forward, lowering his voice. "Uh - I was just wondering - why's Rooster here? And - why does he know your first name?"

"He came to check on me yesterday, my ankle buckled, so he insisted on taking care of me. And - he - asked if we could use first names."

Bob lowers his voice to a whisper. "Phoenix says he likes you."

You stare at him. "He what?"

"He likes you. The others have a bet going to see which of you is going to ask the other out. I - I wasn't really supposed to tell you, but…"

Bradley knocks on the door, and then steps in. "You guys want drinks or anything?"

Oh - yeah, I was supposed to ask Bob that.

"Oh - uh - I'm okay," says Bob. "I already had something to drink."

"How about you, sweetie?" Is it your imagination, or does Bradley's voice go a touch softer when he's speaking to you?

You shake your head. "I'm okay. Thanks."

"Okay. Tell me if you need anything, okay?"

As soon as he's out of the room, Bob turns to you. "Okay - I know I'm not the best at social stuff, but I'm pretty sure he likes you."

"What do you mean?"

Bob stares at you. "Didn't you see the way he looked at you? And the way his voice goes soft when he talks to you?"

You bite your lip. "I thought he was just being nice. Is it - do people know that-" You pause.

"That you like him?" Bob smiles. "Well, Phoenix knows. I don't know about the others, but considering they have a bet going on, I'd say they probably do."

"A bet?" You put your head in your hands. "Oh, wow. How long has this been going on?"

"I have no idea," admits Bob. "I forgot to ask. They all want to come see you, by the way. Make sure you're doing okay."

You stare at him for the second time today. "Really? They actually care?"

Bob nods. "Looks like it."

"I mean, I expected them to be professional, but to actually care…"

A knock at the front door makes both of you jump.

Bob gets up to answer it.

You can hear him and Phoenix talking, but you can't make out what they're saying.

Bob knocks on the living room door. "It's Phoenix," he says, poking his head in. "She wants to see you."

You nod. "Okay."

Phoenix raises her eyebrows when she sees your ankle. "I thought there was something going on!"

You sigh. "Was it obvious?"

"You looked horrified when Mav said we had the afternoon off. And you weren't paying attention at all during training."

"Does that mean it was?"

"Yes." Phoenix sighs. "I wish you'd have told me, C/S. I wouldn't have been so hard on you if I'd known."

She was hard on me? "I deserved it. It was my own fault for not paying attention."

"No." Phoenix steps forward. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a great WSO. Being injured was not your fault."

"I should've looked where I was going."

"It was an accident," says Bob. "You tripped, and fell down the stairs. It happens to everyone."

"You see?" Phoenix says. "Bob doesn't think it's your fault."

Bob sighs. "If anything, it's my fault. I should've dragged her to med bay the minute I found out she'd fallen over."

Phoenix sits down. "So since you're kind of - not walking right now, do you need help with anything?"

"Rooster's taking care of that," says Bob.

Phoenix raises her eyebrows. "Wait, really?"

He nods. "Yeah."

She grins as she turns back to you. "You know he likes you, right?"

You nod. "Bob told me. But - hang on - if he does, then why-"

There's a knock on the living room door.

Bradley pokes his head in. "Oh, hey, Phoenix. I didn't hear you come in."

"Bob let me in," says Phoenix.

Bradley nods. "Y/N, it's getting pretty close to dinner time. Do you want anything to eat?"

You think for a moment. You are getting hungry, but you don't really want to eat in front of other people without offering them something - and you can't really afford that anyway.

So you shake your head. "It's fine."

Bradley raises his eyebrows. "You sure, sweetie? You haven't eaten since this morning."

Your stomach growls, and your face burns. "I - guess I'll have something to eat."

He gives you a reassuring smile. "It's okay. You don't have to eat right now if you don't want to."

"Yeah - I'd rather wait until later - please."

He nods. "That's fine. Tell me if you need anything, okay, honey?"

You nod. "Okay."

Once he's left the room, Phoenix turns sharply to you. "What the - C/S, are you - I swear - how can you not tell he's in love with you?"

You stare at the floor. "I mean - I…"

"You seriously think he calls every girl he's ever met 'honey' and 'sweetie'? He's not Jake!"

"I've only ever seen him at the piano."

"Well, I've seen him flirt with girls. But I've never seen him once call any of them a pet name. Bob?"

Bob, who's been watching Phoenix with fascination, jumps. "Oh! Uh - I don't think so?"

Phoenix turns back to you, a triumphant look on her face. "See?"

"But then why hasn't he made a move?"

"I don't think he knows that you like him," says Bob. "Or maybe he doesn't want to scare you. I don't know, I'm not very good at - this…"

"Bob's right," says Phoenix softly. "I don't think he knows."

You frown. "How? I thought it was so obvious."

***************************************************

Upstairs, Bradley's trying to focus on his phone, but he just can't. He's got too much to think about.

For one thing, he has to decide when to leave your place, and let you get on with your life. It's not that he doesn't like taking care of you. He does, but he knows more than you how weird other people are going to think it is that you two are living together when you're not dating. And he knows you're too shy to tell him when to leave.

It doesn't help that he's fully aware of the bet that the others have going on for which of you is going to ask the other out first, and while he doesn't know whether to be annoyed or amused, he knows who's behind it.

Maverick.

Ever since he got with Penny after the mission, he's had a lot of spare time on his hands - time that Bradley thinks could be better used not trying to get him a girlfriend.

It's not that Bradley doesn't have feelings for you. He does. But he knows how shy you are, and he doesn't want to scare you away. He knows how loud he can be, and that he can sometimes accidentally overpower some of the quieter people in the squad, and he would never want you to force feelings you might not have.

As he turns his attention back to his phone, his eyebrows shoot up when he notices that it's ages past dinner time, and that you still haven't had anything to eat. Jumping up from the bed, he goes downstairs.

***************************************************

You're still confused about the whole thing, despite Phoenix and Bob explaining it multiple times. It's like your brain's just refusing to process what's happening. "So, Bradley likes me, but he doesn't know I like him, and so we're stuck in this loop of will-they-won't-they kind of thing?"

Phoenix is about to respond when there's a knock at the door.

"Sweetheart?" Bradley pokes his head in.

Your heart leaps into your throat. Did he hear?

"Rooster, why don't you come socialise?" asks Phoenix.

He smiles. "You sure I won't be intruding?"

You blush as you realise that Bradley probably wants to talk to Phoenix and Bob too. Why didn't I tell him he could stay?

"It's okay," says Bradley. "I had some stuff I needed to get done. I just want to make sure you get something to eat, sweetie. It's past dinner, and you haven't eaten since this morning."

You pause for a moment. "Oh. That's why my stomach feels weird." You pause again, thinking. "I - do you guys want anything? M-maybe takeout or something? I don't think I have anything in that you'd want, and I feel like it'd be rude for me to eat and not offer you anything. You'd - have to - pay for your own food, though…"

Bob's face lights up. "Yeah, that sounds great!"

"If you're sure," says Phoenix, but she looks just as pleased as Bob.

"I don't know, maybe we could put a movie on too?" you add, feeling a little braver.

Bob grins. "Can we watch Lord of the Rings?"

You glance at Phoenix, who looks slightly unsure. "Have you ever seen it?"

Phoenix shakes her head. "No."

Bob stares at her like she's crazy. "You've never seen Lord of the Rings? How is that even possible?"

Phoenix laughs, and holds her hands up. "I've seen The Hobbit, okay?"

Bob's not impressed. "Lord of the Rings is way better. You have to watch it."

"It's a trilogy, right?"

Oh, no. You can't stop yourself from grinning as Bob takes a deep breath.

"First of all, it's not a trilogy, it's one continuing story, and it was split into three parts because of printing costs. And technically, there are six books, because each part is split into two. But there are three movies."

Bradley chuckles. "I guess we know what we're watching tonight, then. If it's okay with you, of course," he adds hastily, looking at you.

You smile. "Yeah. It's fine. I was wanting to watch it sometime anyway, and I do owe Bob a Lord of the Rings marathon."

Bob's eyes light up again. "We're doing it tonight?"

You look at Bradley and Phoenix to try and gauge their reactions. "Uh… I mean, I'm up for it."

Phoenix shrugs. "I'm in."

"Same," says Bradley, smiling.

"Yes!" shouts Bob, making everyone jump. He blushes. "I - I'll go set up the - TV."

"I'll order the food," says Phoenix. "Everyone make a list of what they want, and transfer me the money."

Once you've all decided on which place to order from, and made your lists, Phoenix steps out to make the call. Bob's still fiddling with the TV, trying to get the sound and lighting just right.

Bradley tucks a blanket around you, making sure you're comfortable. "You need another blanket or anything, you just tell me, okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, blushing. "Okay."

Phoenix steps back into the room. "Okay. Food is ordered, and it'll be here in a bit. You need any help with the TV, Bob?"

Bob shakes his head. "It's all good. Just don't touch anything."

Phoenix and Bob sit on your other sofa, and Bradley settles himself next to you on the sofa.

"You sure you're comfy?" he asks.

You nod.

"Okay. But if you start getting uncomfortable, or cold, or something during the movie, just tell me, okay?"

You smile, and nod. "Okay."

There's a knock on the door, and Phoenix gets up to answer.

"Hey, Bob?" she calls. "Can I have a little help bringing this in?"

Once they've brought all the food in, and divided it, Bob turns the lights off, and presses play.

Smiling, you snuggle into your blanket. This is going to be great.

***************************************************

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it, etc.

Maybe Things Are Looking Up

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Shy!Autistic!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend sets you up on yet another blind date, much to your annoyance.

Warnings/tags: Soft Bradley, age gap (reader is in their 20s), mentions of autism, implied sensory issues, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, one implication of sex (blink and you miss it), mention of crying, lots of fluff, a bit of angst, implied low self-esteem (I think?), super self-indulgent, mentions of throwing up, mention of injuries (nobody gets hurt), one mention of dieting

A/N: I feel like I'm having way too much fun writing for soft Bradley. (Sorry, the writing's probably kind of clunky.)

***************************************************

A knock on the door makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

He's here.

Your heart is pounding as you take one last look in the mirror. You can't say you're impressed with what you see, but at least you look presentable.

It's very difficult to not trip as you rush down the stairs, already regretting wearing heels. They're very uncomfortable, and your balance isn't the best, so you normally opt for flats, but you want to make a decent impression.

For a moment, you consider hiding, saying you're sick, allowing yourself to break your ankle on these ridiculous heels.

Anything but go on this date.

Why, oh, why did Callie have to set me up with one of her pilot friends? you wonder, as you fumble around for your keys. Why does she even feel the need to set me up at all? I've told her time and time again that I'm resigned to the fact that I will be single for most of my adult life.

It takes you much longer than normal to unlock the door, mainly because your hands are shaking so badly that you can barely get the key in.

But once the door's finally open, you stare in shock at the man before you.

After all, it's not every day you see a guy with an 80s mustache, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and aviator sunglasses at your front door.

He should look absolutely ridiculous.

But he doesn't. Quite the opposite, in fact. He's very, very attractive. Unfairly so, you think.

Especially considering you're suddenly acutely aware that the colour on your dress doesn't really suit you, and neither does the style. You knew it didn't suit you when you picked it out, but you just pulled it on anyway in an act of rebellion, mainly because you didn't want to make a good impression.

Something you're sorely regretting, especially because you now feel extremely unattractive.

"Hey," he says. "Y/N, right?"

You nod, your mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

He holds out a hand. "I'm Bradley."

Why's he holding his hand out? You take it anyway, forcing a smile.

"You ready?" Bradley asks.

You nod.

He's surprisingly courteous, letting you hold onto his arm as he walks you to his car, and helping you in before getting in the other side.

"So, any ideas where you'd like to go?" he asks.

Oh, no. Your chest clenches with fear, and you shake your head, hoping you're not doing it too vigorously.

"How about the restaurant near the bar?" he suggests. "I've never been there, but I heard it's a nice place."

You nod, desperately hoping that he won't get mad at you for not speaking.

The rest of the drive is silent.

After he's parked the car, he turns to you. "These doors are a little tricky when you're not used to them. I'll get yours for you."

"Okay," you whisper. It's the first thing you've said all evening.

Once Bradley's helped you out, and locked the car, he offers you his arm.

"The restaurant's usually a little busy this time of day," he explains. "Callie'd never forgive me if I lost you on our first date."

You just nod as you take his arm, feeling more and more shy by the minute. You can tell that Bradley's trying to put you at ease, but you've already worked yourself up so much that you don't even know if it's possible for you to calm down.

***************************************************

Fortunately, you're seated very quickly. You have a feeling that it might have something to do with Bradley being so familiar with the staff, but you brush it off. He's probably just a friendly person.

Still, you're not complaining about being off your feet. Those heels were definitely a mistake.

"Do you want a menu, Y/N?" asks Bradley.

You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, and then nod, your face burning.

"Here." His hand brushes yours as he hands you one.

You manage a small smile as you take it.

You're not very hopeful as you read down the menu. While they look nice, none of the main courses sounds like something you'd eat. Normally, if you were out with a friend or your family, and you ran into a situation like this, you'd order off the children's menu, but you're too scared to here, in case Bradley thinks you're weird, or makes fun of you for it.

"So, what are you thinking?" asks Bradley.

You look up, wishing your throat wouldn't clench so. Hoping he won't think you're rude, you show him what you're ordering. Fortunately, some of the sides look okay, so you've decided to order a couple of them in lieu of a main.

"You sure that's all you want?" he asks. "You don't want a main?"

You nod.

Bradley leans forward, lowering his voice. "You know, if there's nothing you like, we can just go to another restaurant."

You shake your head. Tears begin pricking at your eyes as you try to find the words to explain, almost wishing he'd just snap at you. For some reason, his kindness is making you feel much worse than if he got annoyed, or yelled at you.

It takes some time, but you manage to push past the barrier between your brain and vocal cords. "It's - it's not that I don't like anything, I just - I'd prefer to order off the children's menu. It's just - more familiar territory."

"Hey, that's okay," says Bradley gently. "Was that all you were worried about?"

Not exactly. But you nod anyway.

"I don't mind you ordering off the kids' menu, and I'm not gonna make fun of you for it, okay? I just want to make sure you have a good time."

You manage a small smile. "That's - very kind of you."

Bradley smiles. "It's nothing."

As the server comes over to take your order, your nerves suddenly increase tenfold. You've always hated having to speak to order, but you've never really felt comfortable typing an order out and just showing it to the server, either.

"Hi, can I take your order?"

You don't even hear Bradley tell the server his order, because you're trying to plan out what you're going to say - and try and stir up the courage to actually say it.

Then you feel a hand on your arm, and your face burns as you realise that you haven't even acknowledged the server, and have in fact been staring into space for some time.

"Do you want me to order for you?" Bradley's voice is very soft, whether to try and calm you, or to save you from any more embarrassment, you're not quite sure.

You nod, feeling horribly guilty at ignoring the server, but not really knowing what to say.

But you do apologise to Bradley once the server's gone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to - sorry…"

"It's okay." Bradley's voice is still very soft. "You're nervous, I get it. You don't have to be sorry."

"But I embarrassed you."

Bradley shakes his head. "You didn't. And even if you had, I promise you I've been in worse situations."

"Like what?" You regret the words the second they come out of your mouth. Don't ask him about embarrassing situations, you idiot!

But, judging by the grin on his face, Bradley doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, there was this one time at The Hard Deck…"

At first, you're not really listening, mostly because you're still trying to shake off your embarrassment, but you soon get drawn in to the story, and by the time Bradley finishes, you're feeling much more at ease.

"Okay, here are your meals."

You feel yet another stab of fear. What if I make a mess? What if the texture of the food makes me throw up everywhere?

But you manage a small smile as the server hands you your meal.

You're both silent as you eat, you because you're trying not to spill everywhere, and Bradley - well, you're not really sure. Maybe he's not the type to talk while eating.

But then why did he suggest a restaurant for our date?

Fortunately, Bradley seems to understand that you're nervous, and doesn't push you to speak too much. You do notice him glancing at you several times, and you feel guilty for not being more chatty, but it feels like there's a massive barrier between your brain and your vocal cords, one that you just can't face pushing through.

"How's your dinner?" he asks.

You look up. "It's good, I guess."

He raises his eyebrows. "You sure?"

You nod. "Um - how's yours?"

He smiles. "It's good. What're you thinking for dessert?"

Oh, no.

It's not that you don't like sweet things. Or that you're dieting. You just don't want to risk making yet another mess. You've already dropped some food onto the floor, and you only just managed to fight your gag reflex when you accidentally chewed a piece of food too long.

"Um, I'm kind of full."

"Yeah, me too. They're pretty generous with the portions here." He must have noticed that you're feeling uncomfortable, because he adds softly, "Do you want to leave?"

You nod.

"Okay."

After he's signalled to the server that you're ready to pay, Bradley tells you that he's going to pay.

You don't feel entirely comfortable with him paying the entire bill, but before you can protest, he's already paid.

You wobble as you stand up, and Bradley hastily takes hold of your arm before you can fall.

"I'm never wearing heels again," you mumble.

He just smiles. "You're not used to them, I take it?"

You shake your head. "I don't really go out much. In fancy stuff, I mean." Or at all.

Just like on the way there, you're silent on the way back.

You've got a horrible feeling that you messed up, and now Bradley's angry with you. What if he wanted dessert? What if he wanted to stay longer? What if-

Before you know it, Bradley's pulling up outside your house.

"I'll get your door for you," he tells you.

As Bradley goes to get out of the car, you stop him.

"Um - look, I'm sorry I wasn't very chatty this evening. I just - sorry…"

"That's okay," he replies. "It's not your fault for being shy."

You shake your head. "I'm not just shy. I'm - look, I know I've been difficult pretty much the entire evening. And - I wish I could do something about it, but I can't, and-"

"Hey, what's all this about?" Bradley looks genuinely puzzled. "You weren't difficult."

"I was."

"How?"

You feel tears welling up, and you desperately try to force them back. "I didn't talk for most of the evening, I was messy with my food, and I was rude to a server. And now I've ruined your evening. I'm - I'm sorry."

Bradley doesn't reply immediately, and for one horrible moment, you wonder if he's angry with you.

You don't even realise you're picking at your hands, until Bradley takes your hands in his.

"Y/N," he begins softly. "You don't have to look at me, but please hear me out. You were not being difficult. That incident with the server was not your fault. If anything, it's on me. I should've made sure you were ready to order before the server came over."

You feel a couple of tears roll down your cheeks, whether from relief or something else, you're not really sure.

Bradley gently brushes them away. "I know you didn't talk much, but - I don't mind that. I know not everybody's a talker, and I'm fine with you using other ways to communicate if that makes you feel more comfortable. And I certainly don't mind if you're a messy eater. You don't have to look perfect, okay?"

You suddenly feel light, like a heavy weight's just been lifted off your shoulders. He's not mad?

"But it can't have been a fun evening for you."

Bradley's eyebrows pinch together. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I just-" You pause, taking a breath. "I just - I feel like I have this bad effect on people - like I just jinx a night out and make it awkward and horrible when it doesn't have to be, because I'm just so socially inept."

"Oh, sweetheart. How often do you feel like that?"

You hang your head, trying hard to hide your tears. "Every day."

"I'm sorry. It must be hard."

You nod, almost wishing he wouldn't be so nice about it. It's hard enough trying to keep yourself together around people who don't really care, but it's nearly impossible around someone who does.

"Do you ever feel like that with Callie?" asks Bradley.

You shake your head. "She's the exception. We've known each other all our lives, so…"

"That's good."

You're both silent for a while. Bradley's started gently tracing patterns on your hands, which you're actually enjoying the feeling of.

"You know," he says, "tonight wasn't too bad."

"You think so?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I enjoyed your company. If it's okay with you, I'd like us to meet up again some time."

"For a date?"

"Only if you're comfortable with that."

You manage a small smile. "Okay. I - I'd like that. But - can we not do it in public?"

"Of course." Bradley gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "If that's going to make you feel more comfortable, then I'm fine with it."

You nod. "Thanks. You're - you're very kind."

"I try." He goes to open his door, but then stops. "You okay walking in those?"

That's when you suddenly remember you're wearing heels. Blushing, you shake your head. "I'll probably fall over."

"You want me to carry you?"

You shake your head again. "I'll just take them off."

He frowns. "I noticed some broken glass on the ground earlier. I don't want you stepping on it and hurting yourself."

Despite yourself, you giggle. "I guess you'll have to carry me, then." Not that I'm complaining.

Bradley just smiles and pats your arm, before getting out. "I'll get your door for you."

While he's going around the car to open your door, you arrange your handbag in your lap so that you'll be able to reach your keys easily. You haven't been carried in a long time, so you're a little nervous about how it might feel.

Bradley must have noticed that you're nervous, because he's very gentle as he lifts you, and makes sure you're completely comfortable before he starts walking. You're surprised at how easily he carries you, like you weigh nothing - and how safe you feel in his arms.

He doesn't seem to want to let you go. Even once he's right outside your front door, he still doesn't set you down.

"Um - I should be okay from here," you begin, rather nervously.

"I know," says Bradley. "But I was actually thinking it might be safer if I get you settled on your sofa, so you can get those shoes off, before you start walking. I don't have to if you're not comfortable with me being in your house, though."

That actually makes sense. "No, that's - that's fine."

It only seems to take a few seconds before Bradley has you in your house, and settled on the sofa. You take your shoes off with a sigh of relief.

"I am never wearing heels again."

Bradley chuckles. "You really hate those shoes, huh?"

You smile. "I guess so. I would get rid of them, but someone bought them for me, so it just wouldn't feel right to give them away, you know?"

"Yeah. I get that."

You stand up. "Um - Bradley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For being so kind."

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'm just glad you had a good time."

You nod, suddenly feeling rather shy. "Yeah. Um - see you."

Bradley smiles. "See you around."

Once he's gone, and you've locked the door, you go upstairs, and collapse on your bed with a sigh.

Can I be bothered to change into my pajamas?

You're replied by the seam digging into your back. Yes, I can.

***************************************************

Once you're back in bed, you curl up, preparing to do some scrolling. It's been a long day, and you need some headspace.

It's a relief to be back in your normal clothes once again. That dress was not very comfortable.

Your phone buzzes.

It's a message from Callie.

You home yet?

You type a reply. Yes.

How'd it go?

You pause, thinking out an answer. Was okay. Bradley was really nice. He offered to take me out again.

Take him up on it.

I already did.

Good. You know, I thought you'd get on well. He's a bit more mature than the guys our age.

You frown. How old is he?

He's in his thirties, I think.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. Thirties?! Callie! Why didn't you tell me?

I did.

I didn't see it.

You hastily scroll back through your messages.

Oh, nevermind. You did. Sorry.

Told you. And he's not ancient, Y/N. He's in his early thirties.

But - his thirties! I'm practically a kid compared to him!

You're not. I'm the same age as you, I'm friends with him, and you're more mature than me.

I guess we are both adults. But still… Did you tell him?

Tell him what?

That I'm younger than him.

Of course. And he's a good guy, Y/N. He'd have never asked you out on a second date if he wasn't comfortable with the age gap.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Good to know. Oh, we're still meeting up for drinks on Tuesday, right?

Yep.

Okay. Bye.

Byee.

Well, that was unexpected, you think, putting your phone aside.

But you don't really mind the age gap. So long as Bradley's okay with it - which he seems to be - then you are, too.

Plus, it would explain why you actually enjoyed tonight. You've been on dates before with guys your age, but you've never really enjoyed them.

For one thing, none of them have ever been as nice as Bradley, and for another, they've always wanted you to come back to their place…

Another message from Callie pops up.

Oh, hey, forgot to tell you I gave Bradley your number.

You groan. Callie is enjoying herself way too much.

He said he'd message you tomorrow.

Why tomorrow?

There's a bit of a pause before Callie replies.

He says he noticed you were tired out, and he doesn't want to bother you until you've rested.

You feel your throat getting a little tight. That's so sweet.

Told you he was nice. I'm telling you, Y/N, he's a keeper.

Callie, we've only been on one date - and even that wasn't really a date.

Close enough.

You grin. I'm going to bed now. See you Tuesday.

Byee.

Putting your phone on silent, and setting it aside, you roll over, grinning like an idiot.

Maybe things are starting to look up.

************************************************

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it elsewhere, etc.

Let Me Help (Part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

Summary: You're pretty sure you imagined last night. After all, why would someone like Rooster care about someone like you? (Well, that's what you ask yourself, anyway...)

Warnings/tags: Super soft Bradley, a little bit of angst, mentions of autism, mentions of sensory issues, mentions of social awkwardness (I think?), mentions of injuries, one mention of painkillers (Tylenol), so so self-indulgent

A/N: Sorry, the writing's probably kind of clunky.

***************************************************

As you wake up, the memories of the night before come back to you.

It was probably all a dream, you decide. It feels devastating, but it's the only reasonable explanation you can come up with as to why Rooster, of all people, would actually care enough to go knocking on your door to check up on you.

I probably just went straight to bed the minute I got home, and just imagined all that other stuff.

Trying to suppress the sting of disappointment, you carefully lever yourself out of bed, and try to stand on your ankle.

You're unsuccessful, of course, and you have to bite back a yell of pain when it nearly gives way beneath you.

After hopping to the door, and opening it, you take a quick breather, before starting towards the kitchen. Maybe some food will help me feel better.

"Sweetheart?"

You don't quite jump, but you do lose your balance in your shock at hearing Rooster's voice.

Fortunately, he manages to catch you before you can fall.

"Hey, whoa, what are you doing out of bed?"

He looks so worried that you can't help but feel a little guilty, despite the fact that you hadn't even known he was in the house.

"S-sorry…"

"Don't." Rooster takes a good look at you. "Did you put any weight on your ankle?"

Your cheeks burn as you nod. "Just for a second."

"Did you fall?"

You shake your head, staring miserably at the floor.

Rooster sighs softly, before lifting you in his arms. "You shouldn't be trying to walk. You could really hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I didn't realise - I thought you would have gone home by now."

"Why would I do that, sweetie?"

"I don't have another bedroom..."

"I slept on the sofa."

"You could have just gone home."

"Yeah, but what if you'd needed something during the night?"

You bite your lip, trying hard to hold back the tears. "Thanks, Rooster."

He smiles. "How about we use first names, sweetheart? Mine's Bradley."

You smile shyly. "Mine's Y/N."

Bradley smiles. "I like that. Now, do you want me to take you to the living room, or your bedroom?"

"Living room, I guess? But I was - um, I was actually going to the kitchen, to make myself some breakfast…"

Bradley shakes his head. "It's okay, I'll take care of that."

You stare at him. "Are you sure?"

Bradley's lips turn up slightly. "Of course. You need to rest, honey. Just leave everything to me."

"It's a lot of work…"

"Hey." Bradley gently sets you down on the sofa, tucking a blanket around you as he talks. "I don't think this is gonna be as hard as the work I'm used to. And - I know this'll sound weird to you, but I really do want to take care of you."

You mumble something in reply, your eyes fixed on a point just over his shoulder.

"What's that, sweetie?"

The whole of your face and neck burns. "It's nothing."

"Y/N." Bradley's voice is still soft, but there's an undercurrent of steel.

There's a long silence. You really, really don't want to repeat what you just said, but judging from the look on his face, he's not going to let this slide.

"I'm-" you take a deep breath. "I'm - autistic."

Bradley's eyebrows pinch together in confusion. "Why would that be an issue, sweetheart?"

You take another deep breath, feeling really stupid. "It's going to be harder than taking care of a neurotypical."

"Well, I know it's going to be different, but - can you give me some examples?"

You pause, trying to gather the courage you need. "Well, there's certain foods I can't eat, because of the texture, or the taste, or even the smell. There's certain clothes I can't wear - although that doesn't really apply to - this."

Bradley listens carefully as you tell him the specifics, never once interrupting, just allowing you to talk until you stop, feeling rather miserable.

"I suppose I've ruined it now," you mumble, staring at the floor once again.

"Ruined what?"

"We were finally getting a rapport, and now I've ruined it."

"Oh, sweetie…" Bradley rests a hand on your shoulder. "You haven't ruined anything. If anything, I'm glad you told me, because now I know how to help you better."

You're silent for a while, trying to hold back tears. He's being so kind and understanding that all you want to do is collapse against him and cry.

"I've never had that reaction from someone before," you mumble.

"How do you mean?"

"The last time I told someone I was autistic, it was when I was applying to join the Navy. They almost didn't let me in because of it."

"Oh, sweetheart…"

His tone makes you look up suddenly. Your heart jumps when you see that he looks like he's about to cry.

You give his arm a small squeeze. "It's - it's really not that big of a deal. It was years ago."

Bradley shakes his head. "It is a big deal."

You frown. "How?"

Finding your hand, Bradley gently rests his on top. "Because - you've never felt able to tell anyone else, because-" He sighs, shaking his head. "I really wish you had felt able to tell us sooner, sweetie."

"What difference would it make?" you mumble.

"Well-" Bradley gently takes your hand, stroking along the back with his thumb. "I don't know about the others, but I wish I would've known sooner, because then I would've been able to help you better. I mean, I've noticed you don't like crowds, or loud places, that you leave early whenever we're all at the bar…"

For some reason, you suddenly feel a stab of guilt in your stomach. "Sorry," you mumble, staring at the floor. "I guess I am kind of rude…"

"No." Bradley's voice is suddenly stern. "Don't ever talk about yourself that way. Leaving early because you're overwhelmed, tired, or you just don't like crowds is not a bad thing. You were not being rude."

He pauses, taking a breath. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Y'know, sometimes I want to leave the bar early, and I kind of feel jealous that you can just - slip out."

"Why don't you just slip out?" you ask. It seems simple enough to you.

Bradley sighs. "I've kind of gained a reputation for being the life of the party. Most people think I'm an extrovert, 'cause I'm pretty outgoing. There's not many people who know that I'm actually an introvert."

He chuckles at your surprised look. "Yeah. Don't get me wrong, I like socialising, but - it's pretty tiring. I'm usually ready to go home about halfway through a night out. That's why I usually sit at the piano. It's kind of like a way that I can find my place in a social situation, without actually having to talk all the time. And I also just enjoy singing."

You smile shyly. "I get that. Except for me, it's a bit earlier. I just hang on a bit so I don't seem too rude."

"How much earlier, honey?"

You think for a moment. "About ten, fifteen minutes in. Sometimes twenty, if I'm feeling a bit more energetic."

Feeling like you have to explain a bit better, you add, "It's because the bar's super crowded and things. I can socialise longer in quieter environments."

Bradley smiles. "Good to know."

A silence settles over the room, but it's not awkward. In fact, you quite like it. Normally, when you're socialising, you feel like you have to constantly be chatting, or something's wrong with you, but - this feels much nicer.

It's just unfortunate that your stomach growling is what breaks the silence.

Bradley just smiles. "You hungry, sweetie?"

You nod, wishing your face wouldn't burn so much.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Uh, there should be something in the freezer. I prepped a load of my safe foods, and froze them. There should be one portion per bag, and I think I wrote the cook times on, too. Or they might be on the fridge, I'm not really sure."

"I'm on it." Bradley pats your shoulder before standing up. "I'll get you another ice pack for that ankle, too. Do you want a drink or anything? Maybe some Tylenol?"

"Can I have some water, please?"

He smiles. "Sure."

After he's left the room, you switch on the TV, and turn it back to the show you were watching last night.

Stepping back into the room, Bradley hands you a glass. "Here's your water, sweetie. You need anything else?"

"Do you - um, would you mind getting me my phone, please?"

It seems like the words are barely out of your mouth before he's back with your phone.

"Thanks." You open it to see a message from Bob.

To Y/N: Do you want to meet up today? Bob.

"Oh, um - Bradley?" It's weird how using his name makes your heart jump.

"Yeah?"

"I, um - Bob wants to meet up with me - 'cause, you know - um, anyway, would you mind if I invited him around here?"

Bradley chuckles. "Why would I mind? It's your place."

"Yeah, but - you're taking care of me, so…"

"Hey, I'm fine having him around, if you feel up to it. Like I said, this is your place. Just because I'm taking care of you doesn't suddenly make it my place. What time were you thinking of inviting him?"

"Maybe early afternoon?"

He smiles. "That works for me."

After he's left the room, you reply to Bob's text, and then turn up the volume on the TV. As you watch, you can hear Bradley moving about in the kitchen. It feels weirdly familiar. Like something you could get used to.

It feels like home.

**************************************************

Part 3

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, repost it, etc.

Let Me Help (Part 1)

A/N: I've been writing a lot of Jake recently, so I figured I'd switch it up a little, and write some Bradley for a change. Hope you enjoy. (Sorry the writing's a little clunky.)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

Summary: You're injured, but you don't want to be seen as weak or incapable. Well, until you fall into the arms of a certain aviator.

Warnings/tags: Soft Bradley, lots and lots of fluff, some angst, reader is written as a WSO, crying, pining, mention of injuries, insecure reader

****************************************************

You don't see the step until you miss it, falling heavily to the ground.

Groaning softly, you roll over onto your back, trying to collect your thoughts. Your ankle's throbbing, and your hands are grazed, but fortunately, you don't feel any pain or swelling on your head.

Dragging yourself off the ground, you try and put some weight on your ankle. It hurts a lot, but it's not unbearable, and your ankle feels fairly stable, so you decide you'll just try and walk it off for now.

You're not going to tell anyone you're injured, of course.

Sure, the Dagger Squad all seem like nice people, for the most part (apart from Hangman, of course), but you don't know them that well, and you've no idea how they'll react to you being injured. You don't want to know how they'd react.

Especially Rooster.

You've been telling yourself for ages now that you do not have a crush on him. No, you just look up to him. After all, he's handsome, and nice, and you want to be friends with him. Just friends.

And you definitely do not have dreams about him taking care of you in this sort of situation. About him cuddling you while you cry on his shoulder. About him carrying you in his arms…

The thought of him finding you like this is enough to make you shudder.

What would he think of me? What would he say? Would he think I'm a weakling who can't take care of herself? Would he-

"Hey, C/S!"

You jump in fright at the sound of Bob's voice. "Oh! You scared me."

He gives you a funny look. "What are you doing hanging around the stairs? It's almost time for training."

"Oh, I - I must have lost track of time…" It's not a complete lie.

Bob doesn't look convinced. "I heard a crash a few minutes ago. Did you fall down the stairs?"

"No!" Seeing the look on Bob's face, you hastily amend your statement. "Well, yes. But I only grazed my hands. I'll be fine. Look, the skin isn't even broken."

You even hold out your hands for Bob to inspect, which he does with an extremely serious, focused look on his face.

Once he's satisfied that you're telling the truth, he lets your hands go. "Okay. Well, we'd better go to training."

You regretfully pull yourself away from the daydream you were having of Rooster inspecting your hands for grazes. "Oh. Yeah. Training. Right…"

"You sure you're okay?" asks Bob, as you walk down to the briefing room. "Sure you didn't hit your head or anything?"

"No. I - um - I guess falling down the stairs kind of rattled me. You know, it's just been so long since it last happened…"

You're still aimlessly rambling as you both enter the briefing room, but you fall silent the minute you notice Fanboy give you a funny look.

Looking around, you notice that most of the seats are taken.

Except for the one next to Rooster.

When he sees you, he smiles at you, and pats the seat next to him.

Blushing, you take it, sitting rather stiffly, partly because you're in such close proximity to him, and partly because your ankle really is throbbing now.

It seems like no time at all before you have to be back on your feet.

They're mixing things up a little, having the pilots choose different WSOs, presumably as some sort of teambuilding exercise (you weren't really paying attention).

You're disappointed that Rooster didn't pick you, but Payback beat him to it. And it's not as if he flies like Hangman. He's more inclined to go a bit slower, which suits you just fine, especially because you don't want to jar your ankle any more than necessary.

It's difficult to walk out to the hangar with your ankle feeling like it's going to buckle any second, but you somehow manage it, which makes you feel rather pleased with yourself.

You manage to get through training without telling anyone about your ankle. Of course, it helps that you've been sitting down most of the time, which gave you a chance to rest your ankle.

Unfortunately, you didn't realise that means your ankle's gone stiff. You very nearly fall when you get out of the plane, but Payback manages to catch you just in time.

"You okay, C/S?" he asks as he helps you stand.

You nod. "Just a bit stiff."

Payback doesn't look completely convinced, but he doesn't argue, fortunately.

Not that he would, anyway. You two aren't really close enough for that.

Neither are you and Rooster, as a matter of fact.

It's very difficult for you not to limp as you walk back to the building. Your ankle's getting more and more painful with every step, but you're determined to at least get through today.

Once you're in the briefing room, though, it's impossible to not let out a sigh of relief as you sit down, which prompts funny looks from the others, but you pretend not to notice.

"So, we're meeting at The Hard Deck tonight, then?" asks Phoenix.

She's answered by sounds of assent from the others.

You curse silently. You'd forgotten about the meet-up at the bar after work.

And you've already promised Bob that you'll be there tonight.

Wonderful. Just what I wanted.

It's not just because of your sprained ankle, though. You're already tired from work, and the last thing you need is more socialising in a noisy, crowded bar.

"Can't we do something different?" asks Hangman. "We're always at the bar."

Phoenix shrugs. "What were you thinking?"

"Dogfight football."

Fortunately, the protests at this shuts him up very quickly.

"Okay, okay!" Jake holds his hands up in surrender. "Geez…"

*****************************************************

Sighing, you collapse on your sofa almost immediately after entering your house. You're really not looking forward to tonight.

For one thing, you've still got to hide your injury. For another, you just don't like loud, rowdy places - like bars.

What if I just didn't go? you wonder suddenly. What if I stayed home and watched a movie or something?

At first, you try to dismiss the thought, but the more you think about what you'd do if you stayed home, the more you realise that you'd actually prefer to stay home.

So you end up deciding to stay home, and order some food.

Normally, the only time you have is when you're rushing around trying to get ready for work, so it's nice to finally be able to have some quality time with yourself.

By the time you finish dinner, you're pretty tired, and you don't want to risk falling asleep on the sofa, so you decide to skip on the movie, and just go straight to bed.

As you're getting ready for bed, you suddenly remember that you should probably ice your ankle, so after rummaging through the freezer to find something to wrap around your ankle, you go to bed.

But despite your exhaustion, it still takes you ages to fall asleep.

*****************************************************

The next morning, judging by the way the others are buzzing, it sounds like some crazy stuff went on at the bar yesterday, and you're very, very glad that you didn't go.

Rooster smiles when he sees you, and pats the seat next to him. "Hey, C/S."

As you sit down, you try desperately not to wince. The ice did help some, but your ankle's definitely feeling worse than yesterday.

"Missed you last night," says Rooster. "Were you okay?" Is it your imagination, or is his voice just a little softer than usual?

You nod, wishing your face wouldn't go so red. "Just - just tired."

Rooster doesn't look convinced, but nods.

He looks like he's about to say something else, but just then, Maverick calls for everyone's attention, and you've got no more time to chat.

"Well, as it so happens, Cyclone happened to be in a good mood today," he begins.

Oh no. Chills run over your body. You already know what Maverick's got in mind.

"So, since he's given everyone the afternoon off, I was thinking we play some dogfight football at the beach."

The room erupts into cheers.

Except for you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Sports were never really your thing, although you don't usually mind playing with the squad, but - you can't possibly play with an injury, and if you hide it, you won't be able to duck out of the match.

*****************************************************

What am I supposed to do? you wonder, as you try not to limp on your way to the beach.

Training's gone pretty badly. You were so distracted by your throbbing ankle, and trying to think of ways to get out of the game this afternoon that you ended up getting 'killed' at least twice (you lost count).

You were flying with Phoenix today, who isn't too impressed with you, but she's not as annoyed as you thought you'd be, although that might be because you didn't get 'killed' by Hangman.

But Phoenix's annoyance at you is the last thing on your mind.

Your ankle's feeling less and less stable the further you walk, and the pain's so bad that you're giving yourself a headache trying to bite back the groans and winces that you'd usually let out.

But you're still determined to not tell anyone.

You're not really sure why you're so bent on being independent. Maybe it stems back to the fact that you're autistic, and you've always felt like you've had to work twice as hard as your neurotypical peers to prove your worth…

Of course, it doesn't help that when you first applied to be a Naval aviator, the military didn't want to let you in, on account of you being autistic, and you had to fight to prove that you were worth taking on.

But your problems didn't end there. No, even while training to become an aviator, there was still the horrible cliquey situation that you thought you'd left behind in high school. All the other women seemed to know each other, and you didn't really feel comfortable trying to make friends with the men.

Except for Bob, of course. But then, you've both been friends since you were in high school. And Bob's always been a very kind, accepting person.

But you're not even going to tell him about your ankle. He's too conscientious to be able to help you hide an injury, and he'd have you in the sickbay in no time, which is the last thing you need when you're with the Dagger Squad

Everyone else seems happy and excited, pretty much the opposite of how you're feeling right now, and you really don't want to put a damper on their afternoon.

I wish I could just go home, you think. It's not like anyone would really miss me. And we'd be an odd number anyway, if Mav wanted to play.

You pause for a moment, turning the idea over in your head.

After all, why not? Why shouldn't I go home? It's my afternoon off. And anyway, what if my ankle played up, and they all noticed? Isn't that what I was worried about in the first place?

But I told Bob I'd be there.

You didn't promise.

Yeah, but bailing on him twice in two days? Isn't that a bit much?

*****************************************************

Hi, Bob. Sorry for the short notice, but I'm going to have to bail on the football game.

You pause for a moment, before hitting send. Well, no going back now.

Bob's reply comes up almost immediately. To Y/N: Oh, no. Why? Bob.

You manage a small smile as you reply. I'm just feeling kind of tired.

To Y/N: Do you want me to come over? Bob.

No, it's ok. I'll be fine by myself. Maybe tomorrow?

To Y/N: Okay. Hope you feel better soon. Bob.

Sighing, you put your phone aside, before immediately picking it up again so you can order some food. You feel bad bailing on Bob twice in quick succession, but you weren't lying. You are really tired, not least because of this stupid injury.

Maybe I'll take a sick day tomorrow, you wonder, before quickly dismissing the idea. You've only got a finite amount of sick leave, and you want to save it for - well, for a very rainy day, i.e. when you're really sick.

Which, if truth be told, hasn't happened this year. And you're past flu season, so…

There's a knock at the door.

You nearly jump out of your skin in fright, before groaning, and dragging yourself up to go and see who it is. It won't be the delivery guy, because you haven't even finished your order yet.

Your heart nearly stops when you open the door.

It's Rooster.

"Hey, C/S," he says. "Just came by to see how you're doing."

Him just being alone with you is enough to render your brain mush, and you have absolutely no idea how to reply, so you try stepping back as a way of inviting him in.

It's just bad luck that you completely forget about your ankle, which gives out beneath you, sending you to the floor.

Rooster catches you just in time.

Lifting you in his arms, he carries you to the living room, where he sets you down on the sofa.

"Where'd you hurt yourself?" he demands.

You stare at the floor. "My ankle," you whisper, wishing your cheeks wouldn't burn so much.

Very gently, Rooster takes your sock off. Judging by his soft gasp, he doesn't even need to touch your ankle to know that it's badly swollen.

"Is it broken or sprained?" he asks at last, his voice surprisingly thick.

"Sprained."

"Okay." Rooster takes a deep breath. "I'm gonna go get some ice for this. I'll only be a minute, so just stay put, okay?"

Once he's left the room, you scrub at your eyes, trying hard to keep the tears away. You expected him to yell at you for hiding an injury, but his quiet concern somehow makes you feel much, much worse.

And it doesn't help that your brain keeps replaying what happened over and over again.

That look on his face when you fell…

You don't even realise that you've started to cry until you feel a pair of strong arms around you, and a large hand cradling your head.

"Oh, sweetheart," murmurs Rooster. "I'm so sorry, I know it hurts…"

Sniffling, you lean into him as he strokes your hair, and murmurs sweet nothings in an attempt to calm you down. Despite how awkward you feel, you'd be lying if you said that a small part of you doesn't enjoy his fussing just a little bit.

It takes you a while to calm down, because every time your crying subsides, you see that look on Rooster's face again, and another wave of guilt washes over you, which makes you cry even more.

But once you're calm, you immediately pull away from him, feeling horribly embarrassed.

"Sorry," you mumble, staring at the floor once again.

"It's okay." Rooster moves to put the now partially melted ice pack on your ankle. "That better?"

You nod, feeling your throat go tight.

"Good."

There's a long, awkward silence. Not that you're complaining. You're still feeling a little fragile, and like you might cry any minute, so you don't really feel much like talking anyway.

"Hey, C/S?"

You look up.

"Do you - uh, need anything?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine. You should go back to the game."

Rooster shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you here."

"You should," you mumble.

"I don't want to leave you like this. You're tired, you're hurt, and you're in pain. Please let me help."

You can feel tears welling up again. "Okay," you whisper. "Thank you. And - I'm sorry about ruining your afternoon off."

"Don't be sorry." Rooster gives you a soft smile, although his eyes look suspiciously glassy. "I was worried about you, and this was the least I could do."

"You were worried?"

Rooster nods. "And it turns out I was right to be worried."

"What do you-"

Rooster suddenly takes your hand in his, holding it so tightly that you're worried he might break it. "You're very lucky that your ankle didn't give out when you were by yourself, and that you weren't more hurt when you fell. Please, never hide an injury like this again."

You nod. "Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Rooster lets go of your hand, although the worried expression doesn't fully leave his face.

You take a deep breath, feeling you should probably turn the conversation in a different direction. "Um, I was just about to order some food. Do you want any?"

Rooster smiles, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Sure. But I'm paying."

You shake your head. "I'll pay. It's the least I can do."

Rooster looks like he's about to argue, but thinks better of it. "You sure you're comfortable?" he asks. "I could go and get you a blanket if you want…"

"A blanket sounds good," you say, smiling shyly. "Oh, and could you hand me the TV remote, please?"

Smiling, Rooster hands you the TV remote, before going upstairs.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you relax into the sofa cushions, and turn on one of your favourite comfort shows. You're exhausted from today, so you decide to rest your eyes a bit.

Just for a few minutes…

*****************************************************

It seems like only a few seconds later when you suddenly wake up to feel Rooster tucking you into bed.

You let out a soft grunt. "Mm. What're you doing?"

Rooster smiles softly. "You fell asleep on the couch, sweetie. I figured you'd be more comfortable sleeping in bed. You still up for dinner?"

You shake your head. "Too tired. Can you just stay with me until I sleep?"

"Of course." Rooster's very gentle as he props your ankle up, and carefully wraps it in a fresh ice pack.

The slight shock from the cold wakes you up for a brief moment, but exhaustion soon takes over again, and you have to fight to try and keep your eyes open.

You feel the bed shift, and then Rooster's hand tenderly stroking your hair.

The last thing you remember before sinking into oblivion is his soft voice.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

****************************************************

Part 2

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, post it elsewhere, etc.

Hi!! I loved your Jake x autistic!reader fic!! I was wondering if you'd be open to writing a Bradley x autistic!read fic next? Maybe reader goes out with the dagger squad and ends up getting a little overwhelmed/goes nonverbal but Bradley helps calm them down? No pressure if your not into the idea

Stay safe and stay hydrated <3

It's Funny How Things Can Turn Out

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Autistic!Fem!Shy!Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst, lots of fluff at the end, soft Bradley, sensory overload and consequent meltdown, mentions of autism, mild cursing, Naval inaccuracies, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drink spiking

Summary: You decide to break out of your shell for once, and go to the bar with the Dagger Squad. Things don't quite turn out how you expected them to.

"Y/N, please," begs Nat. "It's going to be fun."

You've got a very different idea of fun to her, but you don't really want to say that.

"I know Bob can't go, but Coyote can. You know Coyote."

Yeah, but not well enough to be able to cling to him like a limpet.

For that matter, you don't really know Nat that well, either, but since she's Bob's friend, you feel a bit more comfortable around her than most strangers.

You've known Bob pretty much all your life. Your mums were friends, you two were friends in school, and even though you're not an aviator, you've always tended to stick around Bob.

He's the type who'll let you cling to him like a limpet in a social situation, but unfortunately, he's got a cold tonight, and can't go to the bar. You were fine with that, partly because it would give you an excuse to miss the Friday night torture get-together at The Hard Deck.

Nat means well, of course. She knows you're shy, and that you're pretty introverted, but she just doesn't seem to understand that your social battery isn't up to coping with strangers today, and that you'd rather take care of Bob than socialise with a load of strangers.

"Bob's not that sick, you know. He just doesn't want to spread it on to the rest of us."

"I know," you mutter. "I guess I'd just feel better if-"

Nat shakes her head. "You need to get out of your shell a bit, Y/N. You'll be fine, okay? It'll be fun."

Your brain is screaming at you. Don't do it, Y/N! Don't!

But you don't want to disappoint Nat, so you nod. "I guess so."

Nat smiles. "Great! We'll go to the bar in about forty-five minutes."

Wait, what?

But Nat's already let herself out before you can say anything.

This is not good.

The bar is so crowded that you're convinced there's more carbon dioxide than oxygen in the air - which could explain why you're finding it difficult to breathe.

It's so boiling hot that you're already sweating, and the noise is starting to get to you - already.

Nat doesn't seem to notice as she pulls you through the crowd, towards the pool table.

"Hey, Phoenix!" calls a guy - Coyote, you remember. You've met him a couple of times, and he's always been nice to you.

Coyote smiles when he sees you. "Hey, Y/N. How's it going?"

You want to reply, but your mouth's too dry, so you just nod, force a smile, and hope that he doesn't think you're being rude.

"Who's this?" Another guy's come up to Coyote.

Wait, is he talking to Coyote, or me? you wonder. You don't want to appear rude, but your mouth feels like sandpaper, and it's impossible to even try to form words, let alone say them.

To add to it all, your social battery is on the verge of dying, which has lowered your sensory tolerance considerably.

Fortunately, Nat comes to your rescue. "This is Y/N," she says. "Y/N, this is Bagman."

"Hangman," protests the other guy.

A few other aviators arrive, Nat makes some more introductions - and then abandons you to go and get some drinks for everyone.

Where am I supposed to go? you wonder.

Normally, you and Bob would sit in a little niche near the pool table. As luck would have it, that little niche is empty, but there are people blocking your way, who you'd have to push past to get there.

The bar's getting more and more crowded by the second. People are squeezed so close together that they're touching. You can feel strangers brushing past you as they go to get their drinks.

Normally, it would just annoy you, but tonight, you have to physically force yourself to hold it together every time you feel the light tickling touch of a stranger brushing past you.

Everything's becoming too much to handle. The noise, which bothered you even at first, is now a deafening roar that drowns out individual sounds, the smell of alcohol is giving you a headache, the lights are hurting your eyes…

You need out. Right now.

Somewhere over the roar, you hear a yell. "Bradshaw! Over here!"

In desperation, you clamp your hands over your ears. It helps a little, being able to block out most of the noise, but the light's still hurting your eyes, the smell of alcohol is still giving you a headache, and people are still touching you as they walk past.

Fortunately, you're still in the vicinity of Bob's friends, so you watch them to try and calm yourself.

You should go over and say hi, you know, you tell yourself.

But there are too many people blocking the way, and anyway, you're too shy to go over. The thing is, you can put a name to his face, but you've never actually been introduced.

Another person pushes past you, more roughly than the rest, which makes one of your hands slip off your ear.

All the noise comes pouring back in, and it's all you can do not to make a run for it.

You back into the wall, hands clamped over your ears again, looking desperately for an escape.

But the only way out is the door you came in, and that's blocked by loads of strangers, all so close together that you'd have to push past.

Your heart's pounding in your ears. You can still hear some of the roar, but at least it's somewhat muted now that your hands are blocking it. You shut your eyes, trying desperately to hold it together.

Then you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you open your eyes to see Bradley standing in front of you, looking worried.

You don't hear what he says, but you know it's something along the lines of, "Are you okay?"

You shake your head.

Bradley's face softens. He says something else, and then points to the door.

You nod, hoping he's asking if you want to leave.

Bradley wraps a protective arm around you as he walks you out. Somehow, he manages to shield you from being too jostled as he pushes through the crowd.

Once you're outside, Bradley takes you to a bench a little way outside the bar. Even with your hands over your ears, you notice how nice and quiet it is outside.

Slowly, you take your hands off your ears, before turning to Bradley, who's sitting next to you.

"You okay, sweetie?" he asks softly. "You seemed pretty overwhelmed back there."

You want to give him a rational answer, explain calmly and clearly that you're autistic, that it was sensory overload, and that you just need time to recharge.

But instead, you start to cry. Today's just been too much for you to handle, and now that you're suddenly in a safe space, you just can't keep it together.

"Hey, it's okay." Bradley puts his hand on your arm, gently stroking up and down. "You're safe."

You want to lean into his touch, and allow yourself to cry, but you suddenly realise just how awkward this situation must be for him. As soon as you realise, you try hard to choke back your sobs.

You idiot! you scream at yourself. You're crying in front of one of Bob's aviator friends. Do you know how humiliating this will be for him if he finds out? And how awkward this is for his other friends?

You're so busy berating yourself, and trying to choke back your sobs that you don't realise you've started picking at your hands. It's a habit you've gotten into, to try and stop yourself from getting emotional in public.

Bradley notices what you're doing. He doesn't say anything about it, but gently takes your hands in his.

"Do you need anything, sweetie?" he asks softly.

You bite your lip. What you really want is a hug, but when you try to speak, nothing comes out.

You've gone nonverbal.

This isn't the first time it's happened, but it's the first time it's happened in public without either your mum or Bob to help you.

You hastily dig in your pocket for your phone, before opening a text app, and typing something out before handing it to Bradley.

Bradley's face softens when he sees what you've typed.

Can I have a hug?

"Oh, sweetheart. Come here."

You shuffle closer to him on the bench, letting him wrap his arms around you, and hold you close.

It's been so long since you've had a proper hug that you've almost forgotten what it feels like. Some more tears trickle down your cheeks, but you let them fall this time.

It takes a while, but you do manage to calm down. Pulling away, you sniffle, wipe your eyes - and then a wave of embarrassment hits you.

I'm sorry that had to be so awkward for you, you type. Dragging you away from your friends and all. Please don't tell Bob - or the others. They'll probably never forgive me.

Bradley frowns, and shakes his head. "It's okay, sweetheart. I just wanted to help. And the others weren't mad at you, you know. They were just worried."

You sit in silence for a bit, wondering whether to go back in or not, before finally saying, "If you, um, if I go back in, can I - um - stay with you? Just, like, while we're in the bar?"

Bradley smiles. "That's fine." He pauses for a moment before adding, "You're Bob's friend, right?"

You nod. "My name's Y/N L/N."

"Mine's Bradley Bradshaw. My callsign's Rooster, but you can call me either."

You smile shyly. "Okay."

"You feel ready to go back in?" asks Bradley.

You nod. "Yeah, I guess…"

Bradley raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I don't want to force you."

"No, it's - it's fine. The 'I guess', is just kind of what I say, if you get what I mean."

"Right." Bradley stands up, and holds out a hand to help you up.

You take it, and stand up.

As you both head back to the bar, you suddenly realise that maybe the Friday night get-together at the bar didn't have to be torture.

After all, Bradley was kind to you, even though he only knew you through Bob, so maybe the others won't be so bad either.

You smile as you glance up at Bradley. You'd have never guessed that this evening, which started so badly, could get better just because of someone's kindness. It looks like being a good night after all.

As always, I do not give permission for anyone to copy my work, post it elsewhere, etc.

Blow by Blow | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, oral (m receiving)

“He’s in a good mood this morning.” You comment. Bradley’s grinning, light on his feet as he dances around the ring. He lets Jake draw closer to him and steps quickly out of the way, taunting him in his every move. Your lips quirk up slightly.

He’s not even trying. If he wanted to, he could’ve caught Jake in the ribs just there. Instead, he quick-steps back and sways his body to the music in the background. Steve Winwood’s Higher Love is blasting over the speakers, filling the gym with upbeat lyrics. Bradley dances, unfazed as Jake puts his guard back up and steps towards him — he sidesteps, slams his glove into Jake’s ribs and continues to sway, mouthing the words.

Jake rolls his eyes and steps into Rooster’s space just as quickly.

“Uhg… help.” Mickey grunts under you.

Your eyes widen, looking down quickly and remembering yourself all of a sudden. A soft gasp slips your lips as you catch the bar seconds before it hits his chest. Your combined strength is enough to lift the bar and set it back on the rack, saving him from being crushed.

“Shit, sorry.”

Mickey sits up quickly, brows furrowed, dark curls sticking to his forehead, mock-betrayal on his face. Your cheeks burn as you shoot a quick glance back to Rooster and find him looking right at you. Shit, he absolutely caught that exchange.

“Who, Rooster?” Mickey pants, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm. You turn your gaze away and give a small nod. “Yeah, he got a fight confirmed this morning. It’s his first gig in like eight months — that’s why he’s showing off.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders back and grabs his water bottle from the ground.

“Why hasn’t he fought in eight months?” You ask, leaning forwards to rest your hands against the bar, tilting your head as you watch Rooster and Jake sparring. Nat always takes it easy on you, which you should probably appreciate, but it’s interesting seeing Jake and Rooster fight — because neither one of them is taking it easy on the other.

Mickey gulps down around half of his bottle’s worth of water and then settles down with a sigh, his skin glistening and sticky under the gloomy white overhead lighting. He pushes himself up from the bench and glances across at Rooster, then grimaces.

“Mm… I probably shouldn’t say. Ask him, he might tell you.” He shrugs his shoulders and then lifts his arms out, flexing his biceps. “So, do you see a difference?”

You smile at him and nod, patting his side as you step past him. “I see that your fly is down.”

He looks down quickly, smile faltering — then realizes that he’s wearing gym shorts, there isn’t a fly for it to even be down. He groans and turns to tell you off. You’re already wandering away, walking over to the ring and resting your hands against the ropes.

“Ugh, fuck.” Bradley grunts as Jake catches him in the stomach.

“Keep dancing, bird boy.” Jake taunts, stepping back to put some space between them again. Now doubled-over, Bradley is at your eye level. His eyes glint mischievously as he catches sight of you, smiling at him from the ringside.

“What’s up, Bambi? — Wanna jump in?” Bradley offers, lips quirking up into a confident smirk as he stands upright again, running his fingers over the affected area of his toned stomach. He begins towards you, Jake turns in interest to watch the conversation.

You smile softly up at him. “I wanted to ask if you were free later.

Jake’s brows raise slightly, he glances across at Bradley and then back at you. Bradley wets his lips with his tongue and takes a step closer, leaning onto the ropes.

“Like a date?”

Jake almost scoffs at the certainty in Rooster’s voice. He knows that he’s cockiness embodied himself, but he still finds himself amused at how sure Rooster is.

You smile softly, then shake your head. “Like the interview that you owe me — you’re the only one I’m waiting for.”

He almost sighs. Instead, he glances quickly back at Jake and shrugs his shoulders, then checks the clock on the wall. “Uh — if you let me finish up down here, I can stop by upstairs when I’m done?”

Jake does scoff this time. He has said some pretty forward stuff to girls in his time, but watching Bradley invite himself up to your apartment is just embarrassing.

“Well, are you busy right now?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as he stands on the canvas. His brows furrow.

“Kinda.” He answers back, adjusting the gloves on his wrists. You frown at him.

“Mav said that you have to do the interview before tomorrow, he wants the website to—“

“Mav isn’t my boss.” Bradley reminds you. It’s swift, calm and it shuts you down in four syllables. You close your mouth, still looking up at him. “I said I’ll stop by later.”

Swallowing softly, you nod your head. A few sheepish steps back away from the ring, you’re still nodding at him dumbly. Perhaps you should apologise. You don’t. “Okay. Thanks.”

Jake watches you turn and walk away, shaking his head softly.

“What?” Rooster frowns.

“I just don’t get how you can look at that sweet face and be such an ass,” Jake answers amusedly, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. He takes a step back and brings up his guard as they get ready to go again. “It’s like being mean to—“

“I said I’d do her interview!” Bradley defends himself, taking stance and shrugging his shoulders. They should really be focusing more than this with the fight coming up, but he really doesn’t see what he did wrong.

Bradley takes his time finishing up his training. Fashionably late or whatever. He knocks on your apartment door and waits, clearly learning from his past experiences with Tank.

You answer the door in another cute patterned sundress, having ditched the workout gear after your shower.

“Bob asked if Tank could come downstairs to play.” Rooster explains, trying to finger through the mess of his curls. Headgear always fucks up his hair.

“Oh. Sure — let me just-“

“He’s at the bottom of the stairs waiting. She said it’s okay!” Rooster relays back.

You smile and lean past Bradley to look at your friend. He grins and waves as Tank brushes past Bradley with a small growl, and then pads happily down the stairs towards him.

Rooster settles down onto the couch, you sit directly in front of him, resting on the coffee table. The interview begins.

“How would you describe yourself in three words?” You ask.

He takes a while to consider it. You stretch your legs out in front of the coffee table and look up at the dust on the ceiling fan — you should clean that. Even after eleven full rotations of the ceiling fan, he still hasn’t presented you with the slightest hint of answer.

“Is there a right answer to this?” He asks back, his eyes on you. One of his arms is draped along the back of the couch, the other resting against his thigh. He nudges his foot into yours and pretends that it’s an accident.

“I guess not.” You shrug. His lips quirk as he raises his brows at you.

“You guess not?”

“Well, there are good answers and bad answers, don’t you think?” You reply, not really feeding into his game as much as he would like you to. Parting his knees further, his body mass stretches over more of your couch unapologetically.

“So, what are the good answers?” Rooster challenges you.

“I can’t tell you that until you’ve answered, otherwise it won’t be genuine.” Professional, polite, holding back from just calling him an ass and making him answer — you probably have a future in journalism.

“What’s this for, again?” He taunts. You both know that he knows exactly what this is for. He’s just being pedantic.

“A meet the staff page. I want people to know your faces, know who they’re coming in to see. It’ll make this place seem less… scary.”

“This place is scary?” He’s outright avoiding the question at this point. You sigh, giving a small shrug of your shoulders.

“It can be.”

He nods his head. He doesn’t understand what you mean — he was raised in this place and the only thing scary about it is that he’ll probably be here for the rest of his life too.

“So… three words?” You remind him gently.

Rooster sits at a crossroads in your living room. He has two options before him, to sit in the afternoon sun and annoy you further, or to just give in and answer your silly little questions.

“Organised, loyal… handsome.” He decides finally, smiling across at you. The second time, perhaps another accident, he nudges his foot into yours.

“Jake said the same thing.” You answer immediately, giving a soft chuckle as you turn your attention towards your notepad.

This goes on for a while. The back and forth. The excessive way he spreads his limbs out over the couch just to remind you that he’s a big guy. The bullshit answers.

You check the time on your phone, then squint at him seriously. An hour has passed and you’ve gotten him to answer only four out of your ten questions.

“Why haven’t you fought in eight months?”

His eyebrows raise calmly, biceps flexing as he crosses them over his chest. He stares back at you. “Is this part of the interview?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah.”

“Who said I haven’t fought in eight months?” He asks you, sitting forward in the seat and leaning closer to you.

“Couple of people, actually,” You lie to him, which isn’t untrue, they would have let it slip eventually. It doesn’t seem to be a secret. “What’s up with that?”

His eyes are russet under the afternoon sun streaming in through the window to his right, bright and shining. Somehow colder under this warm light than they had been the other night by the arena.

His eyes trail, slowly looking down and then back up over your form. He sits closer again, leaning his broad form forwards and resting his hands against his knees.

You know instantly that you’ve probably overstepped, but he was being an asshole too.

“I got suspended from competing for six months.” Sitting so close that every breath you take is the cedarwood, cypress and nutmeg of his cologne, you’ve got a front row seat to how he feels about that.

He doesn’t give much away, but you can tell that he accepts the judgment. He knows that he did something wrong — that’s good, right? — that he knows he screwed up and maybe feels bad about it.

“Then after that, no one would fight me for two months because of what happened before.” He doesn’t have to reach far to be touching you, his arm barely stretches before his hand is tucked around your knee, stroking at the curve of the joint with his thumb.

You keep your eyes on him, studying his features, looking for a crack in that exterior for just a moment.

“What did you do to get suspended?” You shift closer with him, his fingertips smoothing against your skin, staying below the thigh, near the knee.

His lips quirk softly. It’s clear that he’s not going to answer you from the get go.

“You ask a lot of questions.” He comments.

“This is an interview.” You quip. His eyes roll as he throws himself back against the couch, chuckling dryly — bested again. When he looks at you again, you’re smiling softly.

You probably wouldn’t be if he told you what he had done. With the way you’re looking at him, he debates not keeping it from you. His thumb strokes softly over your bare skin, eyes on yours.

He thinks he’s got you right where he wants you, you can see it in that mischievous look In his eye. You reach out and rest your hand against his knee.

This time, instead of looking at each other, you both watch your fingers move along his skin. At first, tracing small patterns on his knee, similar to what he’s doing to you. Innocent enough.

His eyes dart up to your face, then back down, as your fingertips smooth along his skin, brushing well past his knee and dangerously close to the hem of his shorts. His brows scrunch softly.

Kissing him down by the marina two days ago, that was one thing — he doesn’t think that you’re bold enough to do this. So, he calls your bluff. He parts his knees further and sits back comfortably against the couch.

Rooster is an attractive guy and he knows it. More attractive than Jett was, undeniably. Tanned skin, broad shoulders — but a soft smirk on his face that just makes you want to prove him wrong.

“Everyone else knows why you were suspended?” You ask, raising your brows at him as your nails skim along the inside of his thigh. Rooster watches your fingers move, feeling the delicate touch on his warm skin.

“Sure, but I didn’t tell them.” He answers calmly. It would be easy enough to tell you the full truth right now, it’s just a couple of words. I beat the shit out of a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth. But, your ex-boyfriend was a violent prick and Bradley doesn’t want you to look at him like that.

The others were all at the fight that night, Rooster doesn’t really have a choice about them knowing or not knowing. You’re different.

You tilt your head just slightly. He looks at you again. You pout your lips in consideration, watching your fingers breach under the grey confines of the left leg of his shorts. Bradley glances down and then back up.

“Is this the first time you’ve been suspended?” The question seems to come out of nowhere, and Bradley almost winces when you ask it because he knows that his chances are getting lower and lower. He sighs softly and shakes his head.

“No, not the first time.” He replies calmly.

You lift your gaze to look at him through your lashes, fingers stilling against his skin. “Then, I think I should probably know what you did. Right?”

“Broke the rules,” He shrugs his shoulders softly, hoping that you’ll accept that answer but knowing that you won’t. Your lips purse, hinting at a slight frown. “It’s a long story, but my last fight kind of turned into a real fight instead of a boxing match, it was a mess. That’s all.”

“Did you hurt him?” You ask.

Rooster’s hand skims from your knee to the edge of the coffee table that you’re sitting on, fingers curling around the underside of it. “Yeah.”

“Badly?”

He shrugs his shoulders once more, “He recovered, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why?” You press.

“If you ask Nat, she’ll tell you it’s because I was dropped on my head too much as a baby.” Bradley tries to spin this back, make it light hearted again. The meekness in your voice worries him.

Your face doesn’t soften. “I’m asking you.”

“He said some stuff that I didn’t like and I got angry.” Bradley says quietly. You sit back, straightening your spine and crossing your ankles. It’s not quite a recoil, it’s something much more low-key than that, but it has the same effect.

Bradley’s brows knit together as he opens his mouth to defend himself.

“Okay — it’s deeper than him just saying something I didn’t like, I want you to know that,” Bradley rushes out, he can tell that the suddenness of it surprises you. There it is, the gap in that hard exterior. He wants you to like him.

He rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “There’s kind of a history with this place, y’know, some stuff that went down between my dad and Mav and some of the guys in the circuit. People giving me a hard time for stuff that happened before I was born. It’s — just, complicated.”

“Did it make you feel better after you hurt him?” You ask softly, fingertips coming to life on his skin. He glances down as you trail your fingers back along the curve of his knee.

It takes him a moment to consider what you have asked. At a base level, yes, it felt good to make that asshole finally stop running his mouth. He definitely didn’t like the consequences that came after, but that’s not what you’re asking him. Did he feel better after he beat that guy up? — No.

He remembers the bruising around his knuckles. He sees it every day in the way that Mav looks at him know — Mav has barely spoken to him since it happened.

“No. Didn’t solve anything, really.” Bradley mumbles.

Just like with the first question you had asked him, there were good and bad answers to this question. The answer he gave is satisfying enough.

He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forwards, head hung slightly to watch your fingers on his thigh. You sit forwards slowly, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to his warm cheek.

He looks up, you’ve surprised him again. He was sure you were going to ask him to leave.

You kiss his lips. He rushes, reaching for your skin, ready to pull you against him. Instead, you stay where you are, both perched on the edges of your seat, leaning forwards to kiss. Fingers smoothing softly over the scar on his cheek, you hum gently against his lips, contented.

Impatient, fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. He’s pulling you forwards, urging you closer until you’re on the couch, straddling his hips. Knees on either side of his clothed torso, you match his energy, curling your fists into his shirt and pulling him into you. Deepening the kiss, his hands in your hair, your tongue running rampant against his own.

The taste of mint passes between the two of you. His is spearmint, yours is peppermint. It’s a quick and shocking revelation that you had both been planning for this kiss to happen.

His fingers curl around your hips, tugging you forwards, grinding himself up against your core. The second that the bulge in his shorts touched you, you stiffen. It’s hard to miss.

“You alright?” Rooster murmurs, pulling back brows scrunching in slight concern. You look over his features, then nod hurriedly. His brows scrunch tighter together as you push yourself up and away from his lap.

There’s a calm silence as you settle between his legs, pressing your plush lips to the inside of his knee. His tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue as he settles back against the couch. You just keep on surprising him.

Surprise after surprise as you tease your mouth along the inside of his thighs until he’s rock hard and straining against the inside of his gym shorts. Even after that, when his shorts are down by his ankles and his eyes are closed in anticipation, you don’t give him what he wants.

Instead, your nails rake softly along his sensitive skin, followed by your lips. Open-mouthed, gentle kisses onto the most tender parts of his skin.

When you finally work up the confidence to curl your fingers into the sides of his boxers and pull them down, your breathing shudders. So relieved that his sigh almost becomes a whine, he readily lifts his hips for you to guide his boxers down. Both his boxers and his shorts pool around his ankles as he tugs his shirt up and over his head.

He’s so hard it seems painful, the head of his dick flushed the same way that his cheeks do when he gets embarrassed.

You’ve talked a lot with your girl friends, and you had known that Jett was around average — nothing special, but Bradley is. Before now, you’ve never seen a dick that looks heavy in the same way his does.

Admittedly, you’ve thought about this a couple of times since you had come across Bradley on the floor of your apartment in those damn near sheer white boxers of his.

Sitting nestled between strong legs, warm, tanned skin. He rests his arm along the back of the couch, letting you look as much as you’d like. It’s been a long time since he was insecure about his body.

You sit forwards and look up at him. Rooster considers for a moment whether he should stop you or not. The second your fingers curl around the base of his cock, his mind is made up.

Your warm tongue tracing his dick up and down, eyes on him for reassurance as his thumb strokes in time against your cheek. Your lips wrap expertly around the tip, sucking on it like a lollipop, the tip of your tongue tracing over the slit.

His breathing quietens, brows furrowing as he watches you. It’s good, it feels good — he’s had better, but he probably shouldn’t have been expecting too much from a meek little mouse like you anyway.

Rooster hums softly in approval when you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft. Testing the waters, you skim your hand along his thigh. His head rests back against the couch as your main focus shifts to his balls.

Your tongue lingers on the head, darting over his slit to collect the precum that had seeped out. It makes him dizzy, the needy way you lick at his cock, the experienced way that you touch him.

Everything after becomes less about what you should be doing, and more about his response to it. He pants hard when you pull back and pepper kisses along his shaft. He groans loudly when your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re looking up at uk with those doe-eyes, all brimming with tears. He jolts when your nose presses into his thigh as you tease open-mouthed kisses along his balls.

It’s good. So fucking good. He’s lost track of what he’s saying in his head and what he’s saying out loud, unsure of if he should slide a hand into your hair. He doesn’t need to, somehow you’re right where he needs you, right when he needs it.

Rooster shudders, fingers curling into the couch cushion as he involuntarily bucks his hips, feeling your throat squeeze around him. “Shit, fuck —- I’m gonna cum, I’m — I’m—“

You look up at him, drool-soaked lips quirking at the corners. He’s pretty when he’s right on the edge like this. Knuckles whitening, muscles shaking under the intensity. Head thrown back, lips parted, deep groans spilling from his lips.

His body jolts, fists curling hard into the sheets. Every aching muscle in his body contracts, tightening and trembling as his orgasm tears through his nerves. He comes with a strained groan. His dick twitches against your tongue before releasing his load down your throat, leaving you with little choice but to swallow. Luckily for him, that was the plan anyway.

You guide him through his high, not stopping until he’s a trembling wreck under your fingertips. Rooster grunts, mouth hanging open, brows furrowed tightly as the aftershocks of his orgasm tear through his nerves.

Finally, you sit back on your knees and wipe the spit from your chin with the back of your hand.

He swallows, taking in a shaking breath and pushing the base of his palm into his eye socket, trying to make those white splotches in his vision go away. You wipe the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

His legs are still shaking as he pulls his shorts and boxers back up in one move, draping an arm over his eyes. “Fuck, where did you learn how to do that?” — it’s a stupid question, but he just can’t imagine that this kind of expertise came from your ex.

“I read about it.” You answer softly, smoothing your fingers tenderly along the hair on his thighs. His brows furrow as he feels you move to sit down beside him.

He turns his head. Every line on his face deepens as he scrunches his features up, lost. “You… read about it? — Like in a book?”

“Something like that,” You answer him, trailing your fingers over the ridges in his bicep. Your gaze flickers up to meet his. “Was it okay?”

Rooster’s brows lift. He chuckles breathlessly and pulls the covers up over his waist, then brings his hand up to rub at his eye. “Okay? — It was — that… Wow.”

You smile softly at him. “Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m going to take care of you. Just, let my hands stop shaking.” Rooster breathes out, still recovering as he squeezes your knee. You press your knees together and shift back.

“Oh, no, not that. I’d prefer it if we left it at that today.”

He turns his head and frowns — Bradley has never not reciprocated in his life, and he doesn’t intend to start now. “But…”

“You can make it up to me another time, just not today… if that’s okay.” There she is again. That meek little mouse. As if you didn’t just give him the most earth-shattering blowjob. He shakes his head and sits up.

“So what’s the favour?” He asks calmly.

“I want to do a fight like you guys do. Like a real one.”

….

Blow by Blow | 0.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one

…

“Okay, um — no, no,” Natasha winces, shaking her head at you. She grabs your knee and pushes it back down. “No legs — no kicking.”

Jake snorts at the other side of the gym, leaning his head back, then remembering he’s supposed to be spotting Javy, who’s failing out of a bench press. “Oh shit.”

He catches the bar and helps his friend lift it back onto the rack.

“But… I saw on TV—“

“Different sport, kid.” Payback chuckles from the side of the ring, leaning against the ropes. Your lips part slightly, confused. Bradley leans against the doorframe to the office, arms folded over his chest.

You nod slowly as Natasha guides you back into the correct stance. You squint at the heavy bag, readying yourself to go again.

In the month since you’ve moved in, you’ve gotten better at this — but there’s still a lot you don’t know. Still, Natasha has enjoyed seeing you come out of your shell.

Interviewing each of the staff members for the website really helped. Sitting down with each of them for a couple of hours and doing a video interview with them to post on the About section of the website, just a friendly Q&A to make people feel more comfortable coming in and meeting the team.

If it helped you warm up to the idea of training here, then it would help others too.

Bradley is the only one that you haven’t managed to pin down for an interview yet, but he has been busy — he has the most clients around here because he’s been around the longest

Maverick has been loving your ideas so far. He thinks you’re a tech genius for some basic website design and creative ideas.

This entire month has been like a dream that you’re just waiting to wake up from. Even that evening, after hours spent at a local bar — you’re on cloud nine.

Maybe a couple too many drinks, maybe it’s just because you’re so happy, but you’ve been laughing all night.

“You sure you don’t want me to drop you off at home? — It’s on my way.” Payback offers, dangling his keys from his index finger. He’s got a fight coming up and he has cut out all alcohol, but he just has a tiny little sports car that won’t fit everyone. Bradley lives closest.

“Well, yeah — I’m not going to let her walk home on her own,” Bradley answers as he shoots a quick look over to you, grinning with Bob and Mickey as the three of you make plans for the weekend coming. “Besides, it’s not that far out of my way.”

Jake nods his head and pats Bradley’s shoulder, taking Bradley’s spot in that tiny little sports car, “Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow then. Don’t forget you agreed to take care of my eight a.m. session.”

Bradley calls out an agreement and waves the two of them off as he walks over to you.

“You ready?” He asks gently.

“Oh — yeah. Okay, bye guys, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” You stick your arms out and they hug a side of you each, then call out their goodnights to the each of you.

“What did you guys end up deciding to do this weekend?” Bradley asks, reaching past you and curling his fingers around the empty glass in your hand. He takes it and sets it onto the table beside you, then catches hold of your hand and turns you towards the door.

You comply wordlessly, letting him steer you towards the exit. He drops your hand and lets you walk ahead of him.

“Bob knows this hiking trail that has some really great views, and I’ve never been on a real hike, so we’re all going to take Tank with us.”

He hums behind you to show that he’s listening, stepping outside into the night right behind you. “Sounds like fun.”

“Do you want to come?” You offer, turning your head to look at him, your features soft and expectant. Not quite hopeful. Rooster shakes his head.

“Can’t, I’m working this weekend.” Bradley answers. It’s not a lie, he should be working this weekend, but he’s also kind of the boss and hasn’t ever taken notice of the hours that he’s supposed to be working.

You inhale softly, not bothering to argue with him about it. You kind of don’t want him there, anyway. Being all brooding and weird — it would be more fun without him there. That feels mean. It’s not that you don’t like Bradley, it’s just that he’s kind of a dick sometimes.

“You alright? — you’ve gone all quiet, all of a sudden.” Bradley nudges his hand into the back of your bicep as you walk ahead of him. You turn and look over your shoulder once more.

Maybe it’s all the fresh air, but you feel a thousand times more buzzed out here than you had in there.

“Could we walk back along the marina?” You slow down so that you’re at his side. Bradley nods his head, it’ll only add an extra ten minutes to the walk, and sometimes it’s nice down there at night time.

You walk ahead as he pushes his hands into his pockets and watches you. Bradley trained with Jett for a couple of years, he had known from the first session that Jett was an asshole — he just hadn’t realised that it went further than that. Maybe he could have done something earlier.

Your skin cools quickly with the ocean air, goosebumps rising on your skin from the sudden change in temperature.

Finally, you round the path and grow close enough to see the boats, the lights of the city and right out over the bay. You slow down to take notice of it.

“So, do you live near here?” You ask Bradley without looking back to him, gaze turned out over the water. Bradley watches you walk in front of him, his eyes on your legs as you narrowly miss each crack in the pavement. Inches from stumbling, somehow staying on your feet.

“Near Little Italy.” He answers you.

You scrunch your brows and turn quickly towards him, walking backwards without slowing. His features tighten, eyes on your heels — there’s a rock on the path, your shoe lands centimetres from it and you escape breaking your ankle.

“This is out of your way, then.” You realise.

Bradley lifts his gaze, looking at you with the faintest hint of amusement on his face. He nods slowly. “Yeah. But it’s alright.”

“I didn’t say thank you.” You remind him, lips quirking up into a playful smile. His mouth toys at a smirk. He likes it when you forget yourself around him, leave all of that worrying and quietness behind. He can see why the others like you so much when you’re like this.

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nods again. He smirks back at you, “That’s alright too.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at him. “If I keep training with Nat, pretty soon you’ll be asking me to walk you home.”

He chuckles lowly. “Is that right?”

You nod your head and slow down, letting him catch up to you. He slows, standing in front of you, brows scrunching. He opens his mouth to question your motives, then stops as you turn your head and look out over the water.

Salty sea air, fuzzy bright lights around the harbour, warm skin as you lean forwards into him. It’s a half-intentional move, you want to be closer but you’re also just tipsy and not that steady on your feet.

Bradley’s hands find your waist, unfazed as you tip your chin to look at him. Maybe it’s the liquid courage, but you aren’t in the slightest bit bashful about staring at him.

He lets you, glancing down at the patterned florals on your dress as his fingers lay still over the material. As his eyes meet yours again, they’re especially dark in this light, almost black. Nothing like the golden hue from this evening’s sunset.

He inhales slowly. Pomegranate, vanilla violet, mahogany wood and amber. His fingers smooth softly over your waist, eyes not faltering from yours.

You press closer into him, palm splayed out open on his chest, warm muscle under your fingertips. He stares at you, for a second questioning whether or not you’re about to do what he thinks you’re going to do. He leans into your touch, letting your lips press softly into his.

His breath stops in his airways. You mouth on his, just for a moment. As you go to pull back, his lips chase yours. You hum softly into him, meeting him with another gentle kiss. His bottom lip slotted between yours as his fingers curl into the fabric of your dress.

Pulling back slowly, you look up at him through your lashes and take one step back. Bradley loosens his hold on you, then drops his arms back to his sides.

You turn away from him and continue ahead.

“What was that for?” Bradley’s brows scrunch. You take a deep breath and sigh contentedly as you continue along the path, walking ahead of him once again.

“I just thought it would be a good spot for a first kiss.”

Your cheeks are warm, your hands cold as you trail along the path at the side of the marina. Bradley walks just a pace behind you, his hands pushed deep into the front pockets of his jeans.

Just when he thinks he’s got you figured out, you’re off ahead of him again. He shakes his head softly. A good spot for a first kiss.

He squints at the back of your head — that implies that there will be more kisses to come, is he meant to kiss you again?

Your heels clack across the parking lot, around the side of the building. As you near the base of the metal steps up to your apartment, you turn back around to say goodnight.

His hands press into your hips, curling into the fabric of your dress as he walks you back — your breath hitches in your throat — a soft sound is knocked from you as your back hits into the red brick of Bradshaw’s exterior.

Rooster takes a second, looking you over, searching your features for a sign of doubt before he leans forwards and presses his weight into you. You swallow softly.

He lifts one hand, curling it around your jaw, turning your chin upwards and pressing his lips against yours. It’s soft at first, tender like yours had been. Then, he presses himself harder into you, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you harder into him.

A surprised hum slips out against Bradley’s mouth, but as he urges his tongue past your lips, the sound is followed by a delightfully contented moan.

Your hands slide up his chest, coming to rest against his ribs, almost like you’re going to push him off. You’ve got no intentions of stopping this just yet. Bradley pushes himself forwards, needing to be closer.

Bradley uses his height against you, crowding you against the wall, pressing the entire length of his body into yours and slotting his thick, denim-clad thigh between your legs. Your dress bunches up out of his way, not hindering his access in the slightest.

He squeezes your hip and slides his arm around your back, grinding himself forwards into you. You’re supposed to be shy, always so quiet. Now, you rock yourself onto his thigh, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

Lifting your leg to graze it against his thigh, your heel knocks gently into the bottom step. He presses you harder into the wall, caressing his tongue into yours. The ding of your heel against the metal step is soft enough to have not disturbed you. The loud bark that comes from upstairs following that gentle ding, though — that makes you flinch.

You pull apart, lips parted. Staring up at him, breathing heavily. Your skin burns as you realise who you’re with and what just happened — and where you are.

“Um… I should,” You breathe out, blinking at him, “I should go and let him out.”

Bradley nods his head. It’s a couple of seconds before his brain catches up and he finally lets you go, stepping back and freeing you from being trapped against the wall.

“Okay.” He nods, wetting his lips with his tongue. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Natasha. Whatever happened between you and Jett. It was probably a bad idea to—

“Do you want to come up?”

He stares at you for a second, lips quirking up at the sides. He exhales softly, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Sure.”

You aren’t even sure why you asked him, it seems like a bad idea before you’ve even said it — it seems like an even worse idea when he’s headed up the steps behind you.

“You have to stay here and let Tank sniff you or he’s going to freak out.”

Rooster nods his head. It can’t be that bad, he has learnt his lesson from last time. He waits outside whilst you go in and calm Tank down, clipping him into his leash to let him out.

Once Tank has sniffed him, you allow Rooster to wait inside while you get Tank settled. He’s waiting by the counter with his arms folded over his chest by the time you’re done. It doesn’t feel the same.

Maybe the moment has passed. You swallow softly, shifting uncomfortably as Tank settles down into his spot on the couch. Glancing across, you open your mouth to comment on how Tank is finally warming up to him. Tank growls lowly, a warning for Bradley to stay where he is.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and hums, “Maybe I should go.”

“But…” You start out softly.

He steps towards you and Tank growls again. You swallow softly and shoot a look to your dog. Bradley takes one more step towards you, and Tank is silent. The second that Bradley reaches out for you, he growls again.

This has got to be some kind of divine intervention from Natasha. He shouldn’t be here, doing this.

“Alright, Bambi — I’m going to head home. I’ll see you in the morning.” He breathes out, shaking his head softly. You open your mouth to protest. He pats your shoulder platonically and heads for the door. You close it again quickly.

You’ve already embarrassed yourself enough. This really hot guy, who you have to see every day, who just rejected you. You close your eyes for a second and sigh. You let him leave without a word.

…

Blow by Blow | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one

…

Bradley’s car pulls into the parking lot at seven, prompt — on time for once. The radio is playing loud, some seventies tune that he hums along to with little regard for the neighbors. Head tilted back, humming softly to your own music, the water pours over your face.

You scrub shampoo through your roots, swaying softly to your music. It’s a relatively calm track, you’re hoping for a relatively calm day. The plan is to take Tank for a walk through the park down by the marina, then come back and work on the website a bit — Nat’s going to train with you in the afternoon, then you’ve got the evening to yourself.

It’s a nice change, having this much freedom over your day. No asshole telling you what to wear, telling you that walking the dog takes too long, dragging you along to whatever he wants to do.

Bradley’s brows furrow. He pops open the glove box and riffles through it before patting down his jean pockets again. No keys. “Fuck.”

It’s the first time that he’s been on time in a week. If he has to call Jake to borrow some keys then he’s just going to get another lecture. He knows exactly where his keys for the gym are, somewhere on the floor of your apartment.

Sliding out of the driver’s side of his Ford Bronco, he slams the door with little regard for the neighbors again — he half does it just to let you know that he’s coming. Then, he jogs up the metal stairs that lead to the door to your apartment and knocks loudly on the glass panel in the door.

Immediately, he’s met with a big bark. Loud, deep and right by the door from the sounds of things. Yeah… Natasha had mentioned a dog. Bradley knocks the glass loudly again, unfazed by the barking.

He lifts his hand, ready to hit the glass hard when he hears you unlocking the door. The blue wood pulls back and opens just slightly. He has a split second where he can glance you up and down, get a good look at you, still wet and wrapped in a towel. Once his gaze lifts, he’s met with an unimpressed scowl.

Next, Tank lurches forwards, barking wildly as he aims himself at the stranger just outside the door. You put your knee against the doorframe and block Tank with your body.

“I need my keys, I dropped them here the other night.” Bradley ignores the dog and looks back to you without greeting you. He’s in kind of a hurry, Jake’s going to be here any minute and Bradley could do without being ridiculed today.

“Say please.”

It slips your mouth before you’ve even had time to think about it. It’s just the demanding tone and the way he looks at you. This is what would get you in trouble with Jett. You both seem equally surprised at what you just said. You swallow softly and step back.

“Sorry, I just — I’ll get them—“

“Can I have my keys, please?” Bradley asks softly. You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, holding the towel against your body.

“Yeah, stay there.” You say quietly. You turn your back on him and nudge Tank back with you, catching hold of his collar and gently guiding him back towards the living room. Bradley’s keys are on the counter, approximately three steps from the back door — you had found them while cleaning last night and had been planning on returning them.

One step from the door, two, and then you let go of Tank’s collar. He seems calm enough now, you know him well enough to know that he’ll stay that way as long as Bradley stays outside.

Bradley slips his phone from the pocket of his gym shorts and checks the time. Jake’s going to be here any second. He steps inside, his strides are longer than yours and he’s close enough to you in one step. Too close, as Tank decides.

The dog growls sharply, then leaps up at him again, barking and snarling. The same puppy that had been curled up on the couch with you, wrapped in a cozy blanket and snoring, an hour ago.

You gasp, spinning around and catching the towel to keep it from falling. Bradley’s closer than you’re expecting, he can see the panic in your eyes when you turn. You catch hold of Tank’s collar and pull him back.

“I’m sorry, I was just going to—“

“I told you to wait outside.” You frown at him, brows furrowed, heart pounding in your chest. Maybe a braver person would yell at him now. You’d like to. Bradley glances down at your dog, still growling lowly, now standing between you and him with his heckles up.

This isn’t the first time that this dog has stood between you and a guy who has gotten too close.

Bradley takes a couple of steps back, bumping into the doorframe as he raises his palms in defense. You might forgive him, but Tank’s not so quick to recover. He continues to growl, deep and rumbling, warning the trainer to stay outside.

You swallow softly, fingers curling around his keys without looking back. You take them from the counter and toss them towards him. Bradley catches them in one hand.

“Thank you. Thanks. I’ll — I’ll see you later.” He nods, already half turning away, waving you off and heading down the steps. You step quickly forwards and close the door behind him, clicking the lock shut.

You crouch down and run your fingers over Tank’s fur, humming quietly. “So, you think he’s kind of an asshole too, huh?”

Bradley can’t fault your home security system. With your aim and nearby projectiles, and your new guard dog, he’s certain that if anyone tries to break in up there then they’ll be sorry about it.

He hears Jake’s truck pull up outside just as he’s finished opening up for the morning, the exhaust is fucked and it’s louder than it should be. Bradley walks back to the front desk and pulls his phone out, acting like he has been here and done with his work for a while.

“Wow, you’re here.” Jake quips, raising his eyebrows in amused surprise as he lets the door ring closed behind him. He’s wearing a black cap and matching gym wear today. With his experience and skills, he should probably be at a more upmarket place, but Jake’s got a soft spot for Bradshaw’s.

Sometimes, Bradley wishes he had the same choice.

“You look like you just saw a ghost, you alright?” Jake continues as he steps around the counter and slides the clipboard towards himself, flipping through the pages to find his schedule for the day.

“Yeah, that kid’s dog just lunged for me — don’t think either of them like me.” Bradley scoffs, shaking his head as he leans over Jake’s shoulder. Lots of empty spaces on the schedule, Mav isn’t going to be happy.

“Who, Tank?” Jake looks up, brows furrowing. Bradley nods his head. Jake scoffs, “Wow, you must’ve really pissed him off, he napped in Bob’s lap for like an hour last night. Curled up like a baby.”

As Jake finishes talking, you walk past the front of the gym. Tank’s wearing a harness and walking ahead of you on his leash, tail wagging contentedly. You’re wearing a pretty dress, it’s red, stops mid-way up your thigh and has little flowers on it.

Jake smiles as you turn your head towards the two of them. He lifts his hand and waves his fingers at you through the glass. Bradley stares as you wave chirpily back at the two of them.

It’s a sunny day, and you feel sunnier than you’ve felt in months. You pull your sweater from your bag and lay it out on the grass, then settle down. Tank readily settles with you, laying his head against your legs and wagging his tail.

Tank was an apology. For one of the first times things had gotten bad between you and Jett — an explosive argument that left behind an entire day’s worth of tears. You’d gone to sleep that night swearing that you were going to leave him. The next morning, you had woken up with a tan coloured cuddle bug who needed you to stay.

Before this, you haven’t spent much time on this side of San Diego — you had heard that this wasn’t the best area to hang out in. Maybe that’s why Jett liked to, maybe it made him feel tough. It isn’t like you had thought it would be. Down by the boats, sitting in the grass, it’s nice. There’s a view out over the bay and Tank likes to watch the birds in the trees above you.

“Heads up.” Bob nudges his elbow into Jake’s. Jake lifts his gaze and frowns. They’re standing by the front desk and trying to find stuff to keep them busy so that Mav doesn’t realise how dead it is today. They stare out of the front window together as the car door slams.

“Oh, what the fuck is that assho—“

Jake shoots a look at Natasha. She closes her mouth and breathes out hard, curling her knuckles around the counter as Jett walks towards the door. With guys like Jett, Jake knows what he’s looking for. It’s a fight, nothing more. A couple more of those, one more lawsuit and this place is getting shut down for good.

With everything that Maverick has lost already, Jake’s not going to let that happen.

The bell above the door rings. He’s barely got one foot inside, nostrils flared, dark circles under his eyes. There’s a grey sheen to his skin — maybe drinking too much, maybe something heavier. Jake’s not too sure.

“Where is she?”

Natasha opens her mouth. Bob elbows her softly.

“Where’s who?” Jake shrugs his shoulders calmly.

Jett seethes, surging forwards. Jake takes one step back and squares his shoulders.

“My girl.” Jett spits.

“Why would she be here?” Bob asks gently, leaning forwards on his palms. He adjusts his glasses.

“Cut the shit, I know she’s here! — My neighbour saw her with you.”

Phoenix glances across at Jake. Jake folds his arms over his chest. He’s two weight classes above Jett, and confident in the knowledge that Jett knows he won’t win this fight.

“Here to apologize?” Jake taunts.

“Here to talk her dumb ass down from whatever high horse she’s on. You don’t know her, man, she always freaks out like this.”

Bradley rounds the corner, leaning his head back, breathing hard. That session really took it out of him. He rolls his neck and opens his mouth, then closes it. He stops in his tracks.

He takes a moment to stare at Jett, and then take in what he had just said. Now it all makes sense.

“You want to talk to her?” Phoenix challenges, pushing herself up from her chair and rounding the desk. Behind her, is the internal door, behind that are the stairs to your apartment. “Try it.”

“Don’t think that just because you’re a girl, I won’t—“

That’s enough. They have heard enough. Bob moves to step between him and Phoenix, Jake steps towards Jett. Bradley throws his towel onto the ground and surpasses Jake.

He steps forwards and curls a fist into Jett’s t-shirt.

“Rooster, don’t.”

Rooster knows that there are only a couple more times that the police can get called to this place, and he knows that their insurance isn’t going to cover him starting another fight. Luckily, Jett’s smaller than he is.

His feet lift briefly off of the ground and stumble the rest of the way, scrambling for purchase, his arms swinging out to the sides. Rooster walks him backwards. The bell above the door rings loudly as the door swings open and then closed.

Jett’s shoes scrape along the concrete, not stopping long enough for him to get steady footing. His arms shove at Bradley, but it’s little use. Bradley worked as security for a while, there are a lot of bars downtown and he needed some time away from the gym. He’s used to throwing scrawny losers out onto the curb.

They walk back until Jett’s clear of the property boundary.

He tosses Jett backwards. Jett grunts as his back slams into the hood of his beat up, old car. He slinks down onto the floor. Bradley can tell that he’s going to try to get up before he does.

He leans down in front of your ex-boyfriend, eyes dark and serious, his broad frame blocking out the mid-day sun from behind him.

“You know me, right, Jett?” Bradley asks gently. He’s asking more than if Jett knows his name, which Jett does — he knows about Bradley’s career, and he knows why it’ll never extend past Bradshaw’s. Taking note of the clear recognition in Jett’s blue eyes, he nods his head. “That’s right. So you know that I have a hard time knowing when to stop. Right?”

Jett swallows softly.

Bradley nods his head again. “You come by here again, I’m not gonna stop.”

Tank walks ahead of you happily, his nose pointed up as he takes in his new surroundings. He seems to like it down here, all of the fresh smells, all of the birds. You’re four chapters into a book you’ve been meaning to start for months.

The bell above the door rings, Tank wanders in first and walks right on up to Bob. Your lips quirk slightly as he looks up expectantly at his new friend. You lift your gaze. The four of them are looking at you.

Smiling sweetly, you tilt your head a fraction to the side. “Everything okay?”

“Always is when you’re around, sunshine.” Jake shoots you a quick wink. Your cheeks are warm, and not because you just spent a couple of hours out in the sun. Bob and Natasha relax as you giggle sheepishly.

Bradley’s looking at you differently now. Maybe because Tank scared him this morning. You can’t quite place the look that he has on his face.

“Are Mickey and Javy here? — I had an idea for the website and I need to talk to all of you for it.” You continue on, well aware of those big brown eyes boring into your side as you pull your notebook from your bag and lean forwards onto the counter.

Phoenix shoots Bradley a look. He stares back at her. Everyone knew except him. She told everyone other than him about what had gone down between you and Jett. He didn’t realise that things had gotten that bad. Folding his arms over his chest, he wonders what else she has kept from him over the past few weeks.

…

Such a cute chapter 🫠

My Future in You | 1.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, kind of a filler )):

…

Back and forth, back again. White socks padding along the floor, his eyes following you like he’s in the crowd at a tennis match. Bradley watches in silence. He’s sitting back against the wall behind his bed, since he doesn’t have a headboard, arms folded over his chest.

Asking about the future has clearly triggered some kind of meltdown, and at this point, he knows better than to intervene. Instead, he grabs the baseball on his bedside table and tosses it upwards, catching it again.

Each time it lands in his palm, you turn. Pacing from one side of his room to the other, ranting about the logistics of his question. It’s been around fifteen minutes now, Bradley’s sitting in his boxers and a t-shirt, paying less and less attention.

You’ve moved on to the second phase of your rant now. Phase one was about you and him — barely knowing each other, not even liking one another. That kind of thing. He had tried disagreeing, but you’re better at rationalizing than he is.

This is more about the financial side of things.

“I have money.” Bradley shrugs his shoulders calmly, the ball bounces off of the ceiling and ricochets — he leans off of the bed and catches it. Without looking back at you, he continues to toss it up and catch it again. You stare at him.

The boy sitting on the cheap mattress, tossing up a baseball he had taken from this year’s freshman orientation. The father of your child.

You scoff incredulously. Beige walls, plain navy sheets and football banners on the walls. Like this is the kind of home you’d like to raise your child in. “Real money. Babies aren’t cheap, and I’ll be working — do you know how much daycare costs?”

“I have real money.”

You inhale sharply. Everything’s hitting you all at once. You had been putting off this conversation for a reason and now you’re freaking out. You’ve got less than twenty weeks to get your shit together. Stopping by the door, you prop your weight up against it and breathe out hard.

“Real real money, Bradley — I barely even have a credit score, there’s no way we’re getting approved for an apartment.”

“My credit score is good and I’ve got money from the house.” He shrugs again, spinning the ball around in his hand and tossing it up. Too hard, once again. It bounces from the ceiling and ricochets. You catch the ball.

He looks up at you, finding you staring at him now. He raises his eyebrows.

“House?”

“Yeah, my parents’ house.” Bradley replies, settling down and tucking his arm behind his head now that you’re squeezing his only source of entertainment so hard that he’s somewhat concerned you might crush it. He was certain he had mentioned this to you before. “I inherited it after my Mom died.”

The house, the two life insurance policies. There had to be some kind of upside to losing both of his parents before he had turned twenty. You stand by his door, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry… so, you own a house?” You squeak out.

He shrugs his shoulders again, glancing down at the baseball in your hands and sighing. “Yeah, it’s by the base in Norfolk. My dad was stationed there for a bit in the eighties. I was going to sell it, but my cousin’s staying there. He pays me rent.”

You take a small step towards him. He runs his fingers through his curls, tilting his head, smiling softly. Those stupid, big brown eyes stare into yours. He lifts his hand and reaches out for you.

“I’ve got this,” He nods, curling his fingers for you to come closer. You swallow softly as you step towards him. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, parting his thighs. You step between his legs. Bradley rests his hands on your hips.

He leans forwards, pressing his lips gently to your stomach over your sweater. “We’ve got this. You’ve been saying it since the beginning.”

You soften slightly, pushing your fingers through his auburn curls. He looks up at you, lips quirked up into a smile. Suddenly, his brows furrow.

“Wait, so — when I offered you money in December… what did you think I meant?” He frowns slightly, stroking his hands along your sides. Thinking back to it, you shrug.

“A couple hundred, I don’t know. You were being a dick.”

He chuckles and pulls you forwards so that you’re perched on his knee. His perpetually warm skin pressing flush against yours. He wraps his arms around you and nods his head. “I’m sorry.”

Bradley has successfully bypassed your first two protests to moving in together, leaving you to sit and think about your options now. Graduation is two months away, the baby’ll be here a few months after that.

You look at Bradley, trailing your fingers through his curls tenderly as you think about your future with him.

Sitting, rolling, crawling. Experiencing all of that with your son, taking him to the park and to the pool — all while Bradley’s a couple of hundred miles away, on his own.

Could you do this without Bradley? — Probably. It’s just that you’re starting to question whether you want to anymore. This morning, you had a boyfriend — not Bradley. Now you’re sitting here discussing moving in with him.

“But my job is going to be here.” You say quietly, frowning at him.

He nods his head. “I thought about that. There are offices near Pensacola, it’ll just be a case of calling them up and asking to switch. Which, your dad’ll be able to organise for you.”

“Did you forget that he kind of disowned me?”

Bradley shakes his head, “No, I remembered, but he spoke about how proud he was of you for getting that grad scheme at a couple of events, it’s on google. People would probably ask questions if you suddenly dropped out of it, right? — It’ll be easier for you to work if we’re together, so it’s in his best interests to make a phone call.”

Once again, he renders you silent. This is not the same idiot you’ve been putting up with for the past few months. He skims his hand along your thigh and shrugs his shoulders.

“So, yes?”

Your lips quirk softly at the edges, that thundering beat in your chest finally slowing. He grins, leaning forwards and pressing his lips to yours. He knows that his parents would be proud of him, using his money for this.

It beats blowing it on alcohol and new cars. He’s happy with his bronco and cheap beer. He knows he’d be even happier getting to see his son grow every day.

“Where’s all this coming from?” You murmur softly, pulling back and trailing your fingertips back down his arm.

Jake makes it home a little after 9am the next morning, his head pounding as he tries to close the door as quietly as possible. He stumbles forwards into the kitchen, needing water urgently before he blacks out. Eyes closed, he turns on the sink and sticks his head under the stream of water, mouth wide open.

A soft giggle to his left draws his attention. He lifts his head and squints. You’re sitting on Bradley’s lap at the table, both of you looking over the top of a laptop at Jake. He stares at the two of you, blank-faced.

“Morning, sunshine.” Bradley teases playfully. You laugh softly and nudge your elbow into his ribs. He kisses your jaw tenderly, wrapping his arms around your middle.

If Jake didn’t feel sick before, staring at the two of you is certainly getting him there.

“What are you two so chirpy about?” He mumbles tiredly.

You open your mouth to answer. You’ve been awake half of the night, figuring out how to delicately break this to Jake. He’s not going to take it well, and you know you need to approach this with some sensitivity.

“We’re moving in together.” Bradley answers, smiling.

You close your mouth quickly as Jake’s gaze turns towards you. The look on your face tells him that it’s true, and that’s as much as he cares to hear. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

There’s something about knowing that there’s nothing he can do to intervene that really just makes his hangover that little bit worse. Knowing that his little sister is planning to move to the other side of the country, with a baby and that idiot — and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He turns away from you both, shaking his head as he leaves the kitchen without a word. Bradley scoffs, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the apartment listings.

It’s three days before Jake speaks to either of you again. The only thing that gets him to cave is hearing you crying in Bradley’s room. He’s halfway up the stairs, stopping in his tracks. The walls here are paper thin, he can hear the bass in Bradley’s voice as he murmurs to you, trying to get you to calm down.

He finds himself equal parts angry and confused with you. Jake understands that you’re scared of doing this alone, but he’ll never understand how you can give Bradley so many chances. He has hurt you time and time again, and Jake can’t stand the thought of him not being there to protect you.

You flinch as the door to Bradley’s room swings open. Jake second-guesses it as the door’s halfway opening, relieved to find that you’re both fully dressed once it’s fully open. He folds his arms over his chest. Bradley sits up, unwrapping his arms from around you.

You whimper softly, trying to stop the stream of tears as you push yourself to the edge of the bed.

“Pensacola.” It’s all that Jake manages to say. Bradley’s brows furrow in confusion, he nods slowly at your brother. Jake exhales. “Fine. I’ll come too.”

“Excuse me?” Bradley scoffs. It’s not exactly what he had in mind — you, him, your son… and Jake.

“Flight school, can’t be that hard if they’ll let you in.” Jake replies. You sit up and wipe at your cheeks, sniffling softly. Bradley turns his head towards you, then back towards Jake. You push yourself up and throw yourself at his chest, wrapping your arms around your big brother. Bradley’s lips quirk amusedly.

It might not have been what he had planned, but then again — none of this is. Leaving his future in the hands of Seresin’s hasn’t worked out badly for him before, and he knows that you’ll like having Jake nearby. But Jake’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’ll be a better pilot.

…

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Blow by Blow | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: references to domestic violence in this chapter — no graphic scenes, but mention of injury.

…

The sound of the plate hitting the wall behind your head still echoes in your ears. Buying tempered glass plates had sounded like a good idea nine months ago. Under a dollar per plate. A short term solution to furnish your first place. They had worked just fine, nothing special. But, it turns out that tempered glass shatters just like you’d expect it to.

There’s a slight limp to the way you’re walking. You don’t feel the pain, but your body still can’t function at full capacity. You know that can’t be good.

Blood spills out onto your skin as quickly as the warm, summer rain can wash it away. The cuts are small, you won’t need medical attention for them. Except for maybe the one on your foot. Walking barefoot in downtown San Diego can’t be doing you any favours there.

You breathe out, a choked whimper as you step barefoot onto a metal bottle cap. Your foot is sore and bloodied, but most importantly — bare. You hadn’t bothered to grab shoes.

Things with Jett had always been fiery. He was so passionate. You were stupid for thinking that that was a good thing.

“Hey!”

Stumbling back a few steps from the edge of the curb, your eyes go wide as you back away from the approaching car. You glance down quickly at your feet, then back up. There’s probably enough adrenaline in your system for you to start running, you’re just not sure how far.

It’s not his car. The realisation is sudden and uplifting, you stop moving and squint as it pulls up to the curb, blinded by its white headlights. The window rolls down and you’re met by a faintly familiar face.

She has dark hair and she’s frowning at you, clearly concerned. Your mind races, trying to determine if she’s safe or not. Jett will come looking and you can’t risk one of his friends —

You take another step back as you realise where you know her from. Bradshaw’s. She works there. Your mouth goes dry as you ready yourself to run again. She reaches for the radio and turns it all the way down, silencing the upbeat pop rock coming from her stereo. Her face scrunches further.

“Are you okay? — Can I call someone for you?”

Natasha stares ahead of her, her heart sinking. You’re wearing pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, both soaked through, your hair sticking to your skin. There’s an edginess to the way you’re looking at her, you’re flighty — terrified. All explained by the blood on your arms, small scratches and bloodied footprints behind you.

You slowly shake your head. Standing on the edge of a busy road, all that you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Jett. She’s going to call Jett.

You take a few steps. Her eyes widen. Downtown isn’t the most walkable — or safe — area, and you’re about to take off.

“Hey, hey — it’s okay. I won’t call anyone. I promise.” She calls out. You see her mouth move, but it’s useless trying to understand what she says. You feel nauseous and tired and wide awake all at the same time. A few more stumbling steps back.

She grabs her door handle and slips out of the car, rounding the hood with her palms open and outstretched in front of her, moving slowly. You’re a deer in headlights, heart racing as she slowly approaches you.

The last thing she wants is to lose you down here. This can be a bad spot at night, especially in your condition.

“You’re drenched,” Natasha says softly, brows knitting together in concern. You blink, staring ahead at her. She offers her hand out slowly towards you. “Why don’t you get in the car, okay? — We can figure this out.”

You jolt the second her fingers graze your skin. She doesn’t pull back, not wanting to spook you. Instead, she brushes her thumb gently across the back of your hand and slides her palm loosely into yours.

“Please?”

Next, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of Natasha’s classic mustang, shivering. Out of the cold, it all hits you all at once. The pain in your foot, in your head, in your chest. Natasha exhales softly as you begin to sob. She has a good idea of what must have happened without needing to ask.

Turning the heat up, she turns her head towards you, her features soft.

“Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Natasha is one of three girls, and she has been mocked her entire life for being the least caring, the least maternal of all of them. Her sisters already have kids and husbands who they adore taking care of. Natasha’s a semi-pro female boxer — they’ve never understood her.

But, considering that you know none of that, you’re impressed at how she cares for you. A stranger. She barely even knows your name — only from hearing Jett scream it. You don’t know hers until you’re sitting on the floor in her living room as she digs through her first aid kit for you.

You wake up early the next morning, curled up into a throw pillow on her couch, wearing some clothes that she fished out of the very back of her closet. Your clothes should be dry by now after she had washed them last night.

You lie there for a while, facing her television, thinking of what comes next.

This makes you homeless, you suppose. You’re miles away from family, and you know that Jett will be periodically stopping at your friends’ homes looking for you.

Pushing yourself so that you’re sitting, you exhale softly.

Sitting in her room with a stranger on her couch and the overwhelming need to do something, Phoenix has laid awake most of the night thinking of what to do. By morning, she has decided.

“Hey, Rooster — I need a favour.”

You wipe your cheeks quickly, sniffling at the sound of her feet padding along the hallway towards her living room. Her apartment is small, but you really like it. It’s more feminine than you would have expected for her.

A plush white couch, with a red wine stain hidden under a throw pillow. Courtesy of Javy, who you’ll meet soon enough. Pictures of her, and her friends and family all around. A knitted cat plushy on the corner of the couch. A gift from Bob’s mom.

A white and green theme, with splashes of other colour, passes through the apartment. It’s tidy and meticulously organised. She seems to be kind of a perfectionist. She rounds the corner and slows, reminding herself not to spook you, even though she’s excited by her genius idea.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” She asks softly, stopping in the archway. You offer her a sheepish smile and blink hard, trying to make the tears stop.

“Um, embarrassed.” You breathe out, voice still trembling. Normally you aren’t the kind of person who would be out in the street at two in the morning, barefoot and wild.

Every other emotion remains under the surface. Aching, heartbroken, wounded in more ways than one. Embarrassed is all that you say.

Natasha nods understandingly, pushing her fingers through her hair as she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, crossing her legs under her. “I know you don’t, like, really know me — but, um… I’m not going to be able to sleep if I let you go back to Jett’s place.”

Not after seeing what she saw last night.

“So, I, uh… I talked to Rooster, at the gym, and there’s an apartment above it that… you could stay in for a while. If you wanted.”

Still cut and bruised from last night, your body finally hurts. You’re left with the reality of what happened, and the only option in sight is to lean on a stranger. This isn’t how you pictured things.

You raise your eyebrows, “That’s so kind, but… I can’t. If Jett saw me, or-“

“He’s not welcome in that place. The guys all know it. He won’t be able to come within twenty feet of it without someone sending him packing.”

You don’t have many options. Still, this one sounds risky. She watches as your features scrunch up with uncertainty. Natasha smiles softly and rests her hand against your knee.

“How about you come see it with me? — Just take a look.” She suggests. Staring into her warm brown eyes, you already know that this kind of kindness is a debt you can never repay, and that she is a friend you would be lucky to have.

Again, you’re blinking back tears as you slowly nod your head at her. This time, not because of Jett.

Bradley whistles as he strolls through the door to the gym, an hour late for his shift but not hungover this time. Phoenix is sitting on the counter top by the front desk, talking away with Mickey.

“Children.” Bradley greets calmly, swinging his gym bag off of his shoulder and dropping it behind the desk. He leans his forearms on the counter, in no rush to start working.

“D-Bag.” Fanboy greets playfully, making Natasha laugh.

“Your Mommy still not letting you say real swear words yet, Mick?” Rooster teases, raising his eyebrows. Phoenix laughs again. As much as she could train in places with better reputations, she would miss her boys too much if she left this place.

But she’ll never admit that, their egos are big enough already.

Mickey grins, then flips off Rooster. Rooster winks at him, then turns his attention to Natasha.

“And you — what did I tell you about bringing home strays?” He jokes, referring to the damaged girl sitting alone upstairs in a dusty apartment. Phoenix softens immediately and shakes her head.

“Seriously, you should’ve seen her last night…” She says quietly, shaking her head. Rooster’s brows furrow slightly. “I couldn’t leave her.”

Bradley nods his head. “She’s moving in, then?”

“I’m not sure, she—“ Natasha stops speaking as the door behind the desk opens. Her and Mickey turn quickly. Bradley’s already facing you. You’re wearing clothes that might have been Natasha’s ex-boyfriends, cheeks blotchy from crying, legs covered in scrapes and shoes that are a size too big. You swallow softly.

“Hi…” You whisper. Mickey’s the first to offer you a shy smile. The other two nod in acknowledgement. “Um, Nat, I don’t know if—“

“Take it. Please.” Natasha rushes out. She gets really cranky when she can’t sleep, she’s got a fight coming up and she just really can’t take her nerves being shot like this right now.

You look towards Rooster, unsure. He simply shrugs, not really knowing what you’d like him to say. He’s already in trouble for losing Jett as a client, Mav is going to freak out about them banning him permanently.

“I’ll pay rent.” You decide.

Rooster shrugs his broad shoulders again, “Don’t have to — no one’s been up there since the eighties. It’s a dump.” Mickey turns his head and frowns at his boss. Rooster would make an awful realtor.

“No, I-I’ll pay. And I can help out here, I just — I need to thank you for being so kind to me.” You look at Natasha, sincere. It’s almost a sweet moment. Until Bradley laughs. Every head turns to look at him. Phoenix scowls at him disapprovingly.

He pats the counter and shakes his head, still laughing. “Sorry. Just the thought of you tryin’ to train someone. Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of things down here.” He doesn’t mean to sound like a douchebag, and somehow he still manages. Mickey wants to kick him.

You swallow, embarrassment burning through you as you nod slowly.

“I’ll get you the keys.” Phoenix decides finally, drawing the attention away from how clueless Bradley has become over the past year. “Come on.”

She didn’t give him the full details, so he doesn’t know what you’ve been through. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have just laughed in your face and fatally wounded your already crushed confidence. Even then, he might have — Nat isn’t sure.

Rooster hasn’t been in a good place for a while now. For a while, he seemed to be getting better. It fluctuates — this week, he’s an asshole again.

Your new apartment has two entrances. One, the door behind the front desk. This leads you directly into the gym. Your second, is the back door by the kitchen, a set of steel steps that lead down to the back of the building. Behind that is a locked gate that leads out towards the marina. You now have keys for both of those, but not the gym. That seems fair.

It’s mostly exposed brick up there, like the rest of the gym. A few wallpapered walls. Outdated, but you’re not in the space to be picky. Furnished, but also cluttered with the staff’s belongings.

You sit alone on the floor of the place for a while.

The door opens behind you, making you flinch and hurry to your feet. A short, older man with brown hair stands in the doorway with a frown on his face. Maverick. Natasha told you about him.

“Hello.” He says softly, uncertainty in his tone. You echo back a quiet greeting. “You live here now?”

Apparently it’s that simple. You give a small nod.

“Look, you don’t have to pay rent but—“

“I want to.” You interrupt. “Please. I can’t stay here for free.”

Maverick folds his arms over his chest. “Nat said that you’re good with computers.” You squint slightly. You’ve had an office job before, if that means you’re good with computers. Still, you nod.

“Call it a hundred a week if you’ll help me put this place on the line.”

“Online?” You ask gently. Maverick shrugs. It’s all the same to him. Still, four hundred a month — he’s insane. You nod quickly. “Of course. Sure.”

He smiles.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for busting in, do you mind if I grab my jacket?”

You step quickly out of his way and let him in. So, this is happening.

…