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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter one

summary: phoenix has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 4.2k

a/n: not me having the audacity to take a crack at a top gun: maverick fic. this is what happens when i watch tgm 7x in one week. a fic is born. and in my defense, this cast has so much damn chemistry how could i not?! this is a oneshot idea that turned into a series that's turned into a series and a sequel? oops. 10/10 recommend listening to the song tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton.

masterlist | the playlist | chapter two

She’s shocked but she knows better than to be surprised.

At least that’s what Phoenix reminds herself as she watches the heated interaction between Rooster and Hangman at the pool table. It can’t have been more than five minutes since Rooster’s arrival for the two of them to get into it. And the way he looked at her just a moment ago? With his smug, annoyingly handsome, overconfident face right before taking another dig at Rooster?

She hates it.

And she hates that it made her feel something.

She can’t put her finger on it: disgust, unadulterated rage, whatever the hell else would make you want to kiss and kill someone at the same time.

She exchanges unamused glances with Rooster once again, shaking her head in the beyond cocky fighter pilot.

“Well, he sure hasn’t changed,” she scoffs, watching as Hangman makes his way back to the jukebox to select another song.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t,” Rooster agrees with dismay.

“Check it out. More badges,” Payback says, turning his attention to the way of the new arrivals. “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… shit that’s Fritz.”

“What kind of mission is this?” Fanboy asks, taking note as the best of the best continue to arrive at the Hard Deck tonight.

As Phoenix asks the question everyone is wondering – who the hell the US Navy plans to teach the top 1% of fighter pilots – she notices Rooster’s disappeared from the conversation around the pool table. It doesn’t take long before someone’s cut the power to the jukebox causing a collective groan to ring out within the four walls of the Hard Deck.

A smile creeps across Phoenix’s face as she knows exactly where Rooster’s gone. The sound of a few riffs on the piano being played catch her attention, and she excuses herself from the pool table. She joins her good friend she met at flight school, in all of his Hawaiin shirt-clad glory.

“You missed me, Trace?” Rooster says, stealing a glance from the side of his old friend.

“Not even a little bit,” she teases him in return.

But Rooster understands.

What she means is ‘yes I have,’ and ‘you could’ve called.’

The commotion of Maverick being thrown out of the bar interrupts their brief reunion, and while Phoenix watches, Rooster occupies himself with the task at hand. His large aviators that cover his eyes make it easier to ignore the fact that the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure had been called back to North Island too. His long fingers run over the keys of the barely-in-tune piano of the Hard Deck, unwilling to acknowledge the presence of the man. Instead, he charges forward, noticing how easy it is to slip into the familiar rhythm of being back at TOPGUN.

Outside of the bar, Jake’s having a little too much fun throwing the old aviator overboard with Payback and Coyote. As he heads back inside, he doesn’t join Payback and Fanboy at the piano with the rest of them, instead choosing to head to the bar for another round of beers. He leans back against the bar, watching as the whole bar seems wrapped in singing along to Rooster’s personal anthem. Hangman takes another swig of his beer amused by the sight.

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to join in on the fun but he doesn’t move – can’t let Rooster have this one. Hangman lets his gaze linger on Phoenix from a distance as she dances (in his opinion) a little too closely for his liking to Rooster.

He’ll never admit it, but he’s always been entranced by the woman he met at TOPGUN all those years ago at his graduation. She was a part of the incoming class, the one right behind his, and he’s not sure how, in the same damn khaki uniform as everyone else, she’s always looked this good.

Her eyes light up as someone or something across the room catches her attention, and she’s practically jumping up, sprinting across the Hard Deck and into the arms of another naval aviator.

And for the first time tonight, a genuine smile spreads across his lips.

He wondered when you’d show.

As soon as he got the call, you’d texted him immediately asking if he’d gotten the same request for this mysterious special op. Earlier, when he’d watched Harvard and Yale roll in with Halo, your WSO he knew your arrival was almost moments away. But you’d never been the most punctual when it came to your personal life, so he wasn’t surprised that you were running behind. Jake chuckles to himself thinking about all the trouble you used to get into at the academy for not being on time. Almost got you kicked out a few times too, if he recalls correctly.

It'd been too long since he’d seen you last, now that you were stationed at Lemoore. He loved teasing you about what a Californian you’d turned into, now that you’d been out of Texas.

“Gonna start callin’ you Phoenix if you spend any more time in California, kid,” he’d teased you during your last phone call, referencing the LA native you both admired.

But Jake’s almost forgotten about how close you are with Natasha – the three of you always circling around each other, never quite in the same place at the same time. He’s definitely forgotten (or at least tried to) the time you called him a lovesick idiot after he wouldn’t shut up about a certain fighter pilot he’d met during a certain deployment.

What could he say?

His first deployment with Phoenix had left… quite the impression on him… and you knew him well enough to call him out on it.

Of course, Phoenix had wanted nothing to do with him at the time. His usual tricks – that Southern Charm and perfectly symmetrical face – only seemed to repulse her even more and he had to admit that it made him like her even more.

“Whiskey!” she practically shouts, as Jake watches the two of you embrace.

“Sorry I’m late. I would’ve come earlier if I knew there was a singalong,” you smirk, taking in the sigh of the more than jovial crowd huddled around the piano. “But once I hit LA traffic. Shit. That’s what I get for leaving for wanting to take my own damn car.”

“Oh I think he’s just getting started,” she replies, nodding towards Rooster.

Before you can say anything else, before you can take a good look at the man behind the piano, Hangman’s cut your reunion-for-two short.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he croons, his Texas drawl prominent in the way he says each word.

“Hangman, you son of a bitch!” you squeal, meaning the last part in the most endearing way possible.

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with the biggest smile you’ve seen all day.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Jake picks you up, spinning you around before setting you back down on the ground as you laugh. Your public display of affection earns a few looks your way, and Phoenix pretends to vomit on the floor in response.

You laugh again, “You think I’d get a free pass after putting up with this one for over ten years.”

“This… is something I’ll never understand,” Natasha replies, gesturing towards the space between the two of you.

“You jealous, Phoenix?” Hangman asks, a confidence behind his words.

Nat sends a snarky look his way before answering, dryly:

“Only in your dreams, Bagman.”

“You’re right about that,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink.

“Oh gross!” you say with an eye roll. You playfully punch Jake in the chest, pushing him away from you and Natasha.

“Get your own friend. Besides, Nat and I have some catching up to do and I’m in need of a drink,” you continue, earning a groan from Jake.

“What? I can’t watch?” he smirks, earning another fake vomit from Phoenix.

“No, Bagman,” you tease, using the callsign you know Nat loves to demean him with. “We’re gonna talk shit about you.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head at your snarky remark. He knows it’s out of love – at least from you. He concedes, tipping his beer towards you as a form of ‘cheers’ before taking a few steps away.

You and Nat exchange a laugh, before linking arms and heading towards the bar.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for more than five minutes,” she remarks, searching for an available bartender.

“He’s not all that bad once you get past all the bullshit. And there’s a lot of it,” you reply honestly.

“No thanks,” Phoenix dismisses, before flagging down Penny.

You watch as she orders the two of you a round of beers and you can’t help but find it funny how quick she was to dismiss Jake. It’s true: you’ve always thought the two of them were more alike than they were different. Sure, Jake made questionable decisions on the daily. But even after all of these years, he still had more heart than anyone you’d met this side of the Mississippi.

“How was your trip?” you ask Phoenix, making small talk to start.

“It was alright. Came in a few days earlier to see some family in LA first,” she answers with a shrug.

“How’s your mom?” you ask, curiously.

And Phoenix answers, filling you in that her mom is doing much better than the last time you talked, and her brother and his wife are moving back to LA. You tell her that you’re finally getting used to California, while the two of you wonder about this top secret, special mission that you’ve all been called back to TOPGUN for.

“Oh! Speaking of the best of the best. Uh… my best friend is here,” she starts with a smile on her face.

“Excuse me. I thought… I was your best friend… at least in the Navy,” you tease her.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “No, I mean. Rooster. I’ve actually been wanting to introduce the two of you for years...”

Phoenix gestures towards the man behind the piano still going at it, and you move over to get a good look at him. He’s hot. You’ll give her that. And you’re not usually into the whole mustache thing but it somehow seems to make him even more attractive. His oversized aviators are hanging off his face as he pounds away at the keys of the piano and you can’t imagine what grown adult man would wear Hawaiin shirts by choice.

And yet, everything about him you’d normally find cringe-worthy in a man, he seems to pull off.

He knows it too.

There’s a group of girls gathered around the piano that are gossiping as they watch him riff on another instrumental song.

And boy is he eating it up: the attention, the praise, he knows he has the ears of everyone at the Hard Deck tonight.

“The piano player. From flight school?” you question, curiously, as you begin to connect the dots.

“Yeah!” she answers, her eyes lighting up at your immediate recognition. “Yeah that’s where we met. Reminds me of you, actually. Just the way we both clicked instantly… and you’ve both become life-long friends.”

You think back to your first deployment as a naval aviator. You and Phoenix were sent on a mission in Sarajevo and had become fast friends. At first, you wondered if you grew so close so quickly because you were the only women on that deployment, but you’d discovered over the years that your friendship with Nat was unique. While you’d usually expect a fast friendship to fizzle out, your relationship with Nat had only grown stronger over the years.

“Hm,” you sound in response, giving Rooster another lookover.

Nat’s other best friend.

Sure.

Nat’s hot other best friend.

“What’s with the porn ‘stache?” you ask, playfully.

She chuckles, “Long story for a different time.”

“C’mon! I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Phoenix encourages you, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to the pool table with her.

“Gentleman,” she says cooly, greeting the uniform-clad men that surround the pool table.

“This is Whiskey,” she announces, introducing you. “Top of her class at TOPGUN and the only person on the planet that can get me to drink the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“Yo, I’ve heard about you,” Payback says, immediately recognizing your callsign.

“I could say the same about you, Payback,” you reply, and he’s surprised to see you already know his callsign. “Coyote, ‘s always a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods to you.

“Wait. You two already know each other?” Payback asks, looking from you to Coyote.

“Texas,” you both answer at the same time, exchanging a smile.

“Us Texans gotta stick together. Especially at the top,” Coyote clarifies.

“I’m Fanboy. And this here is Harvard and Bob,” Fanboy says, finishing his introduction of at least the aviators engaged in the game at the time.

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you reply, looking from Fanboy to Harvard.

You notice that it seems like Rooster’s little performance has ended and the jukebox has been plugged back in. It doesn’t surprise you that Hangman’s slipped out, probably to cue up his own personal soundtrack for the night. Bob is busy lining up his pool cue, but you already know him from Lemoore. He and Fanboy continue their game, and you wonder where Halo snuck off to.

Bob shoots his shot, missing miserably with a sigh as the rest of the aviators cry out in supportive disappointment for him.

“Bob, ya really can’t do better than that, huh?” you hear the Southern drawl of Jake heading your way.

You and Phoenix exchange a look, knowing just how much Jake is going to enjoy picking on the little guy.

“Let me show you how it’s really done,” Jake smirks, snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy’s hands as he struts towards the pool table.

You decide that someone needs to humble him, and you know just how you’re going to do it.

“Easy there, Seresin,” you say, intercepting his gait. You stand your ground, right between him and the pool table, blocking his way.

Jake stops in his tracks, as you stand toe to toe with him, barely inches apart from each other in a battle of the egos. Coyote lets out a whistle and you can hear Phoenix and Bob snickering in the corner as they watch on.

“You see, I can’t let you do that because… it’s my turn, actually,” you challenge him, a rebellious look on your face. “So you’re just going to have to wait for yours.”

“Damn. You gonna let her talk to you like that, Hangman?” Coyote whistles, always amused by how willing you are to throw yourself in front of the moving bus that is Jake Seresin.

“Don’t let her fool you. Whiskey’s always been sweet on me. Ain't that right, kid?” he coos, his eyes never leaving yours.

“HA!” you hear Nat laugh loudly, as you raise your eyebrows up at Jake.

You don’t dare break eye contact. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this one.

He shoots you a look that says, ‘you really want to do this right now?’ and you shoot him a look that says, ‘you’re being a bully.’

“Bullshit. She’s got you by the balls, lieutenant,” Phoenix hollers.

“And he wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, winking in her direction. You refocus your attention back on your best friend, pressing your lips together in a thin line “Besides, we all know that Hangman here has a soft spot for women who degrade him.”

You grab the pool cue out of his hand before bringing your opposite hand to tap him twice on the cheek, eliciting another round and whoops and hollers from the group of guys.

“Ain’t that right, Bagman?” you throw in, parroting his condescending phrase from earlier.

Jake shakes his head, knowing that you won this one as he watches you move around the pool table to set up your next shot. Bob watches on, impressed with the way you stood up to Hangman like that, especially in defense of himself.

“If nobody warned you, Bob, the ‘T’ in Texas stands for trouble,” Coyote remarks, nudging Bob as he settles in next to the WSO.

While you’re busy celebrating your win with Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix, Rooster’s across the room, closing out his tab and grabbing his last beer of the night. He eyes you carefully. He’s never seen someone standup to Hangman like that, nor has he witnessed Hangman take it. He’s heard about you – remembered what Nat’s said over the years: that you were her other best friend, that you were one hell of a pilot, that he should stop making shitty decisions with women and just let her set the two of you up.

And after what he’s seen tonight? He’s intrigued.

You’re electric, and he’s impressed.

What he doesn’t remember is Nat ever mentioning that you knew Hangman – let alone this well. Were you and Hangman a thing? He can see a closeness between the two of you – a kind of intimacy he’s never seen Hangman have with anyone, despite the revolving door of women he seems to keep around whenever they’ve been deployed together. But it doesn’t make sense, because why the hell would Phoenix want to set him up with someone if she were Hangman’s girl?

Rooster makes his way over to the pool table after you and Hangman’s confrontation, his lips pressed to the top of the glass bottle.

Hangman’s hanging out on the edge of the group, flipping through something on his phone with his right hand and nursing a beer in his left.

He doesn’t want to sound too interested, but curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?” Jake shoots back, looking up from his smartphone.

“You and Whiskey…” Rooster says, trying not to sound too desperate for information.

But Hangman picks up on Rooster’s interest in his best friend immediately. He smirks, knowing that his relationship with you is just another thing he can use to get under Bradshaw’s skin.

“Spent a little time at the naval academy together, that’s all,” Hangman replies vaguely. When he’s met with silence, Jake knows that he’s got something here. He turns to his rival, scanning for a reaction on Rooster’s face.

“What? You interested?”

Instead of answering, Rooster just shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to steal Rooster away so that she can introduce the two of you, her eyes glimmering with excitement and the gears turning in her head.

“Call it a rescue,” she mutters under breath as she drags him away from Hangman’s presence.

Much to Nat’s disappointment, the introduction isn’t much. Just an exchange of hellos, names and callsigns before Halo comes to find you for a catch up.

The rest of the night goes on, accompanied by Hangman’s pick of tunes, and it’s filled with old friends, catch ups, and a few more rounds of pool. It’s good to be back here. In a way it feels nostalgic, and anyone would be lying if they couldn’t admit that being selected to be a part of this mission was a huge boost for the ego. While it’s cool to have some Lemoore buddies with you, it’s good to see your old friends too – the ones you don’t get to see as often – like Jake. Like Phoenix. These are bonds forged in battle, and people you’d trust with your life.

It’s not till the end of the night that you realize that you may have had one too many, so you step out for some air. San Diego is perfect almost year round, you think, as you watch the waves crash against each other.

“You good? I saw you slip out,” you hear a voice say.

You’re surprised to find Rooster standing behind you, just outside of the entrance of the Hard Deck. You hadn’t gotten much time to meet him, despite Nat’s best efforts.

“Yeah, I just think I’ve had a little too much to drink. Wanted to get some air,” you reply with a small laugh. “Thanks though. For checking in.”

“Can’t have you gettin’ into any trouble. Nat would kill me,” he says, taking a few steps toward you.

This time, you fully turn towards him, resting your back against the railing, as he holds out a cup of water.

“Thought you might want a glass of water too.”

“You’re a good friend. At least that’s what Nat’s said about you,” you say with a smile, taking the glass of water he’s offered you.

“She said that?” he asks, only a little surprised.

You nod in response.

Rooster joins you, standing side by side, his back pressed against the railing, mirroring your body language.

There’s a long silence between the two of you as you drink your water. After a big night of friends old and new, it’s nice to have a moment of quiet too – the waves being the only sound between the two of you.

“So… you and Jake?” Rooster asks, interrupting your momentary shared silence.

“Oh!” you gasp, another laugh following.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the question that makes you feel a little warmer as you contemplate how to answer his question. Between your greeting upon arrival and your standoff at the pool table, you can imagine why Rooster would think that. You can’t blame him. The two of you get mistaken as a couple all the time, especially when you’re out and about in your civvies.

“No, there's-, there’s no me and Jake. I mean. We… met at the naval academy. He was two years ahead of me and kinda took me under his wing when he found out that I was a fellow Texan. We’ve been close friends ever since,” you clarify, trying your best to explain your uncommon friendship with Hangman.

Rooster scoffs, a blush running across his cheeks as he mutters an unconvinced yet conceding with, “Okay.”

“What? You don’t believe me,” you ask, turning your head to watch his reaction.

“No, it’s not that! I uh… I’ve just… never seen Hangman let anyone talk to him like that. I just… made some assumptions, I guess. Sorry,” he apologizes, almost embarrassed that he asked in the first place.

“No it’s okay,” you reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before crossing your arms over your chest. “In your defense, there was one kiss at school back in the day that ended promptly when I laughed him out of my dorm room.”

Rooster laughs, the idea of it completely contradictory to the playboy persona Hangman portrays to the world.

“Now that’s a story I want to hear,” he smirks.

You shake your head, “There’s not much to tell. I promise.”

“He always been this much of an ass?” Rooster asks, stealing another glance your way.

“Oh yeah. And he’s always been this fucking annoying too,” you add playfully.

He agrees and the two of you exchange glances again. You’re starting to see why Phoenix has raved about him all these years and you’ve barely had a real conversation with him.

“Then why do you put up with him?” Rooster asks again, this time a little more seriously. He’s not sure why, but he really wants to hear that you don’t have feelings for Jake.

“Because… there was a time we were both just dumb kids, y'know? Because he may be an annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit... but he's my annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit. And I’m stuck with him,” you admit, genuinely.

Your capacity for empathy leaves an impact on him. He’s going to be thinking about this conversation for a few days.

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the story behind your callsign?” he asks, changing the subject.

You raise an eyebrow, “What’s the story behind yours?”

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to tell you. You don’t answer either, taking another sip of the water he’s brought out for you.

“Hooooly shit,” Rooster marvels, watching as you pull of an extremely tricky maneuver in your two-seater F/A-18.

It’s you and Halo paired up with Harvard as your wingman for this round of the dogfight exercise. And while you may be impressive, you’re still no match for Maverick, as he gets you with a killshot just for trying to show off.

“You got to give it to her. That was smooth,” Fanboy admires as the rest of the aviators watch the exercise from inside the watchtower.

Jake chuckles in response. You’ve always been full of surprises and he’s always finds it amusing when someone new discovers it.

“Like Tennessee Whiskey, fellas,” he answers, his Texas drawl a love letter to your shared home state.

He shakes his head watching you fly before adding:

“Some things never change.”

read: chapter two

A/N: HI ITS ME. How're feeling up in this club and why is everyone so hot and have so much sexual tension? Anyways... should I continue this or nah??

#call sign tennessee whiskey #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x phoenix #hannix #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix top gun #jake hangman seresin #rooster x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin

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missathlete31 · 5 days

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Hangster

Hannix

Hangman

Jake x Reader

I feel like this fits in all pairings lol

#jake hangman seresin #glen powell #top gun maverick #jake seresin #hannix #hangster #jake hangman x reader #hangmav

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

Text

The Relationship Experience - one

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

prologue

Nothing especially interesting happened between the hours of 4:45am to now, in fact, the whole day had been so slow since Rooster retrieved his dog tags. It was about 6:30pm and you hadn’t heard from him. It wasn’t an entire surprise. He was at work; he didn’t have the luxury of the day off like you.

You were restless, so incredibly listless. After Rooster left, sleep didn’t come easily. Your brain couldn’t stop relaying the moments from the night before. By midday, you were buzzing on coffee and waning adrenaline. Tasks seemed impossible, all you managed was to remove your makeup and eat some bland toast. Everything felt out of flux and made you feel off-kilter, figuratively turned upside down.

You reckoned you had commenced and deleted at least 10 texts to Rooster to thank him again for yesterday, that you couldn’t stop thinking about his kiss, the way he touched you, that you were… absolutely infatuated with him.

What was most tragic was you couldn’t find the nerve to hit ‘send’ on absolutely any of them. In fact, you couldn't find the nerve to text anyone – not Natasha demanding how the night went; not your sister asking how you’d pulled up after such a big day; not the bride and groom thanking you and Bradley for your incredibly thoughtful wedding gift (how was it incredibly thoughtful if it was on a wedding registry, you’d never know but hey. They didn’t hate it) and that you must double date soon. Yeah, okay.

The most common thing you brought yourself back to while everything else spun around you?

What had Bradley Bradshaw done to you?

24 hours ago, you were fine, perfectly content with most aspects of your life with your strictly platonic friend, Rooster. And now? Not a single thing seemed to fit in its place.

At 7:01pm, your phone buzzed while you attempted the week’s lesson plans for yourself and your team, but little was coming to fruition. A little too eager, you knocked the phone directly off the bed and into the pile of yesterday’s still damp bridesmaid dress, rocketing you straight back to the dancefloor during the bridal waltz and the electricity of Rooster’s touch as he claimed your first dance together. God, he could move. The way he pulled your body to his, the gentle caress of his hands on your back. You could almost smell his cologne in the air –

Finding your phone, you saw another text from Natasha that simply said, ‘Please don’t make me call you. I hate talking on the phone. Just want to know Rooster didn’t murder you and leave you in a ditch x’

Confronting, you thought to yourself. It was time to give in.

You: I’m alive. Sorry, just working/planning the week’s lessons.

Natasha: Awesome, I’ll be there in 10. I have pizza, wine and I want every fucking detail from last night. Rooster is giving me absolutely nothing. Don’t be like Rooster. See you soon x

“Shit,” you muttered, still in your Lakers tee from this morning. You really should have made some kind of effort, realising if Rooster turned up unannounced – shit, you didn’t want to put that tragedy into the universe. Busting your ass, you ran for the shower and in record time, you’d washed your hair and ridded the rest of the last 36 hours off you as well.

Tossing on jeans and a tee over your bra and undies, you heard Natasha's relentless beating on the door. Dashing to it, you opened it to a very flustered, albeit adorable, Natasha Trace, pizza and wine in hand, as promised.

“You are the cutest delivery service ever,” you smiled, stepping out of the doorway and taking the pizza from her as she wandered in, rolling her deep brown eyes.

“I was about to smash a window in. You’ve been radio silent all goddamn day, I thought you were dead!” she huffed, casual and not dissimilar to yourself in blue jeans and a white tee, hair in a messy bun. “Respond. To. Texts,” she instructed. “Especially when I’m absolutely desperate to know what happened last night!” she added the last a little hysterically as you bit back a laugh.

"It was okay. My feet are still killing me. You know, I don't mind weddings," you told her, falling on the couch, tossing the pizza box on the coffee table as she went to the kitchen. You put some music on for some background noise. "I just don't like being in them,” you clarified.

“Imagining your wedding day...” Natasha teased.

“Don’t think we have much to worry about there,” you giggled.

Natasha smiled, wandering back with the glasses as you tuckered eagerly into a slice, not realising how hungry you were after forgoing most meals today. "I'm glad you had a good time; I've never seen anyone dread anything more. Rooster said he enjoyed himself."

His name off someone else’s tongue sent a jolt of electricity through your system.

"He seemed to," you shrugged, not wanting to talk too much about him for fear everything will come out. She took a seat beside you, unscrewing the wine and pouring a glass each.

“I’ll just take care of this too, huh?” she muttered as you apologised, a mouth full of cheese and pepperoni.

“Sow-ry,” you replied and swallowed, giving her a greasy smile. “I’m famished and this is so good.”

“I hope to find out myself,” she laughed quietly. “So, tell me everything. And don’t leave a fucking thing out because you are a terrible liar, and I will see right through it.”

Wide-eyed, you nodded, believing her. “Ask me anything, I guess?” you replied, frankly terrified of her for a moment.

"How was his suit? Details, immediately, if not sooner,” she asked calmly. Too calmly.

"Pretty good," you understated.

“Pix?”

“Uhh, no,” you replied. “There was some taken by the photographer, but it sincerely never crossed my mind to get any. Rooster and I didn’t pose for any.”

“You two are fuckin’ killing me!” she exclaimed as you shrugged, meekly.

From the moment Rooster had sauntered into the reception, you were both so wretchedly lost in each other to consider the small things like pix and you loathed how excited this conversation would be if you were just allowed to be honest. Natasha Trace was your friend, a really fucking good one, she knew you (and Rooster) well and read people even better. “Blue velvet jacket, dark slacks,” you frowned as she did too. “Cute bow tie.”

“Did you dance or, like, be wallflowers all night?” her voice trailed off.

“We danced a few times. He’s a good dancer,” you force-fed yourself more pizza while the wine breathed. How could you overstep the mark if you were stuffing your face? Couldn’t incriminate yourself if you simply couldn’t speak! Logic? Denial.

“Slow danced?” she wriggled her eyebrows as you laughed gently.

“Yes, we slow danced. He was very respectful, Carole raised him right.”

“Carole?”

“His mother,” you stood up and pointed to the photo on the wall that had Rooster so enamoured the night before.

“She’s really beautiful.”

“So beautiful.”

“Rooster looks nothing like her,” she studied the photo.

“No,” you grinned, plonking back down. “All his old man, even to the mo.”

“I honestly forgot how intrinsically linked you two are,” she said wistfully. “This whole thing of being friends for so long, then the classic fake relationship to save face at a wedding.”

And here it comes. “Nat…”

“You know the writing is clearly on the wall, right?” she told you, pulling at a string of mozzarella between her fingers. You felt completely transparent. She was daring you... and frankly, not having to try too hard.

“What do you mean?” you asked warily.

She plonked the cheese into her mouth and paused. “You know I’m a total romantic at heart.”

“Absolutely. What you’re doing with Bagman is baffling to me.”

“It’s only sex,” she rolled her eyes at you. “I’ve told you the rules.”

“And are you… following the rules?” you asked kindly. “Because initially, fucking Jake was a one-night thing… but now it’s like a weekly booty call on your whim. I cannot remember the last time he tried picking someone up in the bar. You wake up in each other’s beds - ” you reminded her thoughtfully.

“Bitch, you know I can dish it out, but I can’t take it,” she pretended to be sad, before blowing a raspberry and giving you the thumbs down.

“Have you said, ‘I love you’ yet?” you continued.

“We’re not talking about me, all right?” she cracked. “We’re talking about you and Bradshaw. You’re the goss tonight, not me and Bagman,” she scoffed at the mere mention of Jake’s name.

Giggling quietly, you nodded. “Okay, ask me. You know you want to…”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Natasha was so ready for this. You just gave her all the ammo she needed. "Did he... kiss you?" she leaned forward, elbows on knees, so eager. Pouting, you sighed, and her smile grew. "I fucking knew it!" she exclaimed. “He was far too quiet for his usual grandstanding.”

“But you can’t say anything!” you pleaded, pointing at her.

“Then tell me everything I need to know and I’ll make sure to – ” she zipped her lips. “Let’s start again. Suit?”

“It was really fuckin’ good,” you said, a little dreamy in memory, easing back lazily on the couch cushions. “I’ve never seen him sexier. I don’t think I even thought he was sexy before last night.”

“Oh, babe. Rooster is stupidly hot and I say this from a strictly platonic place,” she informed you. "He will lay you so good. How did you never see it?”

“I mean, yeah, he was always handsome. But his suit...”

“Had to be more than a suit.”

“You’re right. It was everything...”

Natasha’s smile was as dreamy as yours, so happy for you. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No,” you said, quickly. “Trust me when I say I tried. But he wasn’t having it.”

Frowning, maybe a little surprised, she asked, “Rooster? Rooster Bradshaw did not try to sleep with you?”

“No,” you said, subconsciously bringing back the embarrassment of earlier this morning. You still felt a little rejected and humiliated at how you threw yourself at Rooster, but Natasha didn’t seem to notice. Ew, you didn’t enjoy reliving it twice.

“You did bring the right guy home, right?”

You nodded, solemnly. “Yes. I completely threw myself at him,” you confided.

“And he still didn’t bone you?” she frowned.

“No,” you sipped the wine, barely tasting it. Fuck.

“Holy shit, that big oaf is in love with you,” she prophesied, thrusting her arms in the air in comprehension.

“What?” you shook your head. “Knock it off, Natasha.”

“Nah, he wants to wait, he is considering this,” she pondered aloud, clutching her wine glass to her heart. “He’s gonna take you to a romantic dinner in town, have fuckin’ rose petals strewn everywhere, candles. He’s gonna lay you down and make sweet, sweet love to you – ”

“When did my life turn into a 90’s music video?” you wondered as she laughed.

“Oh, my God, I’m so happy for you guys! I’m so happy for myself because I was right, but oh, wow. He’s in deep! Tell. Me. More,” she exchanged her glass for pizza, taking a satisfying bite. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“Natasha, Rooster was a new person to me last night. He was so charming and funny, and handsome. Oh, my word - so sexy. He took such good care of me. Whenever someone made me uncomfortable, he held my hand, rubbed my back, and played with my hair. Always something. He touched me all night."

“Tactile,” she nodded, impressed.

“So tactile, yes!" you said in revelation, the smell of the pizza calling to you as you chewed another bite. "His hands are amazing. Strong, comforting, you know?"

“I feel I knew Rooster was capable of these things," she admitted, slowly. "But actually hearing it, I still don't completely believe it. Is he a good kisser?" she shimmied, desperate for the answer.

“The best kisser,” you sighed, memories reverberating through your mind of his lips on yours, his tongue pressing against yours -

“And the moustache?” she gave a face that may or may not have said ‘ick’.

“Will take some time, but I didn’t hate it,” you confessed. “Natasha?”

She hummed. “Yes, my love?”

“It was the best night of my life,” you said quietly.

“Holy fuck, you’re in love with him too,” she realised, the pizza falling from her grasp back into the box.

“No, no,” you waved the notion away. You’d never fallen fast in your life, and this certainly wasn’t going to be one of those whimsical rom-com times. “I mean, I had a crush on him in high school, and this feels nothing like it.”

“You had a crush on him in high school?!” she screeched.

“I never mentioned that?” you asked meekly and for good reason - if anyone got a sniff of your teenage crush on Rooster Bradshaw, it would be on for young and old and your soul didn’t need that embarrassment in your life and he probably didn’t either.

“And I’m just learning this now?!.”

“The crush disappeared when he left for college. It’s no big thing,” you told her honestly.

And it really wasn’t.

“I didn’t see him for a few years, and then I went to college, and we didn’t see each other for a while until around the time I met you,” you shrugged. While you spent your childhood and teen years in similar circles, you really drifted after Rooster turned 18. Why wouldn’t you? He was growing up and following his dreams. You were too.

Grandpa encouraged you to study over East (Annie had mentioned he didn’t want either of you young, dumb and settled on some Navy dolt who managed to say the right things to you and keep you trapped when there was a whole world to see) and accept a swimming scholarship before you tried to figure your life out.

You’d swam all your life, competitively, you would teach as your summer job and after realising you weren’t the calibre required to swim professionally, passing your knowledge on seemed the next appropriate step. Swimming was a universal language, so you took a few courses and taught your way around th world for a while.

It wasn’t a big thing that Rooster fell out of your life.

“I remember the night I met you,” Natasha smiled fondly. “My God, you little cutie patootie. Was it Annie’s hen’s night? Bachelorette?”

“Same same.”

“And Rooster was definitely in town.”

“Yeah, I think he was,” you recalled faintly. “Wow, I haven’t been that drunk in a while,” you admitted. “Thank Christ.” Putting your head in your hands, you recalled only bits and pieces of that night. The rest was a blacked-out mystery. Probably for the best.

“Must be growing up,” she teased, raising her wine glass to you. “I’ve never seen you so happy in our entire friendship and I’m so, so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking her free hand and cuddling it to your cheek.

"You know, Rooster’s always been super into you, I can't believe I didn't set you two up earlier. I kind of regret it now."

"Nah,” you frowned, exchanging her cheek for your discarded pizza again.

"True story. I'd catch him watching you every once in a while, that way he immediately moves from his bar stool and ushers you in when you get to the bar. I'm not getting that treatment," she kind of huffed.

Holy shit, he did. Every time, he’d guide you with a gentle hand to your hip and you’d think absolutely nothing of it.

“He’ll always order you a beer and you’ll drink a mouthful to be polite because you hate it but he always finishes it.”

“It’s a beer bar,” you shrugged. “Wait, what? He finishes it?”

“He’s not going to waste perfectly good beer,” Natasha reasoned as your phone pinged. You pleaded it wasn’t him, this was not the time for Rooster to text. Not with Natasha here. You were already getting grilled, but a text from him would only make matters worse –

“‘Rooster’ and a Rooster, cute,” she smiled, holding up your phone. “‘Missed you today. Did you still wanna catch up or…’” she said verbatim. “And kiss you a little more. Maybe see what comes up,” she gyrated on the couch. “Do you want me to leave?”

“He said he was going to come over, but I haven’t heard from him all day. You were here first.”

“Aww,” she said, almost touched. “It’s okay, text him back. You get yourself laid.”

Rubbing your face, embarrassed, you replied, “Nat, I love you, but you need to calm down.”

She breathed. “You’re right, I do. My two best friends are totally in love and I need to be cool, calm and collected about it,” she smiled, putting the lid on the pizza. “I will go, but I’m taking the pizza with me.”

“Nooo,” you replied, grabby hands for at least another slice. Curious, now knowing Rooster had a few obvious tells about his feelings for you, you dared ask, “Nat, did I do anything?"

“For what?”

“Did I have any tells with Rooster?”

She shook her head with a gentle smile. "Nah, no one can get a read on you, baby," she winked. “But Rooster... He's quieter when you're around. When you're not there, he's one of the boys, a part of the pissing contest, you know?”

“Oh,” you tried to hide the disappointment in your voice. You didn't want him changing himself for you.

"Don't be offended," she continued. "I think it is just more respect, you know? You two have known each other for a long time. It’s sweet."

"Like Jake doesn't have for you?" you teased.

"Exactly. We're only fucking, we're not in a relationship. If he went soft on me, stopped challenging me, stopped trying to make me better, I'd dump his dumb ass."

“Kinda sounds like a relationship…” you dared as she put the cap back on the wine.

“And for that, I’m taking the wine too,” she huffed. “Bagman and I have ground rules,” she reiterated again.

“Of course, of course,” you nodded, playing along.

“The line won’t be crossed.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

“And on that note, on a night that I was supposed to savage you, you’ve turned it onto me and now I’m just feeling attacked,” she huffed disappointment, her wine and pizza in her arms and heading towards the door.

“I really like him, Nat,” you said dismally as you both stopped at the door. “I don’t know him anymore and I need to know everything now,” you rambled.

Natasha gave a genuine smile, no more of that shit-eating, ‘I was right’ stuff. No more posturing. “I know. And I’m so happy for you. Because I think you and Rooster will be incredible together. You both deserve this,” she surprised you with a hug. “And if he hurts you, I can actually kill him. Goodnight, fuck safe,” she instructed.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Go fall a little more in love with Bagman,” you sighed, pushing her gently out of the apartment. “Pretend when you head to his room that the pizza and wine was for you guys the whole time.”

She cackled on the way back to her car. “Fuck him, this pizza and wine are mine!”

“Sure,” you called after her, waiting for her to get back to her car. She waved once and drove away. You closed the door, collecting your thoughts. Okay, so you and Rooster had absolutely no idea where you stood but you practically praised the ground he walked on to Natasha, so she knew. Good. You hated secrets. Not that you tried very hard to keep this one. She broke you incredibly quickly.

Wandering back to the couch, you found your phone and sat down, tucking your legs under you, anxious to respond to Rooster and potentially see him soon.

You: I thought you’d forgotten about me… come over anytime x

“No, you fucking loser,” you deleted the text you were about to send and tried again.

You: I’m home.

Hitting send, you added a quick “xx” to the next text to make it seem less cold than you intended. You groaned. “You are such a fucking idiot.”

Rooster 🐓: What about 8? I’m just getting in. Long day.

You: Anytime xx

two.

masterlist.

a/n: gotta say, party crew, with engagement way down, I’m unlikely to keep a schedule for this series. thank you to those who comment and reblogged, you’re the true mvp’s. know that I see every one of them, and you absolutely move me x

#notroosterbradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x oc #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #top gun fanfiction #hannix #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

Si Vis Amari Ama

VIII. Let the Games Begin

SERIES MASTERLIST

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Pairings: Rooster (Roman Name: Gallus) x Female Reader (Roman Name: Sabina), featuring Hangman (Roman Name: Carnifex) x Phoenix

Summary: A girl whose freedom was stolen to pay her father’s debts. A gladiator enslaved for the entertainment of Rome. A love they never thought possible.

Author’s Note: I apologize that it's taken me so long to update! I've been having a hard time finding the motivation to write as of late, but this story remains very near and dear to my heart and I'm grateful that I've had the inspiration to work on it these past few days. Thank you for bearing with me! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 13k+

Warnings: Slavery in the ancient world, angst, allusions to unwanted sexual advances, gladiatorial combat, violence, blood, death, slow burn romance, alternating point of view.

He could feel the thunderous roar of the crowd pounding in his skull, a searing pain that pulsed behind his closed eyelids, rivaled only by the throbbing ache in his shoulder. The stamping feet of tens of thousands of spectators shook his bones and thrummed in his bloodstream, the energy of his captive audience rising and growing like a living beast. He could sense it burrowing just beneath the surface of his skin, engulfing his body in flames—the same Roman flames that had stolen his mother away from him and destroyed the only true home he had ever known.

And yet, for all that his body felt as though it was wrapped in fire, he found himself unable to move. Unable to lift the arm that held the sword they’d so foolishly placed in his hand. Unable to open his eyes and gaze upon the crazed, bloodthirsty faces of the people he hated so much. Unable to do anything except succumb to the pounding that vibrated through him, rattling him to his core and robbing him of any shred of peace. But when had he ever known peace?

Swallowing deeply, he realized just how dry his mouth was—drier than the sands of the arena itself. And on his tongue, he could taste nothing more than salt and ashes.

But that pounding. When would it cease? He couldn’t even raise his hands to his ears to block it out, not in his frozen state. When would he be free of it? When would he ever be free?

Just as he felt ready to open his mouth in a silent scream, he suddenly heard a faint sound in the distance, so small and gentle that he could scarcely make it out over the throbbing in his head. But then it came closer, so close that he almost felt it brushing against his cheek in a delicate caress. It was the flutter of dainty wings, like those of a dove.

His little dove.

The longing in his chest at that sweet sound was enough to propel him forward, to unlock him from the invisible chains that kept him bound and let loose the strong limbs that had been held captive in his mind.

“Sabina!” Gallus cried out, sitting up suddenly and reaching out—but grasping nothing.

Blinking painfully against the early morning light that filtered into his cell, he turned his head slowly and let out a grunt of pain at the stiffness in his shoulder.

As he blinked slowly a few more times and shook his head to clear the fog from his mind, Gallus took stock of his surroundings and remembered where he was. He wasn’t in the arena at all, but on the hard packed earthen floor of his cell, where he’d evidently fallen into an unhappy sleep after the overwhelming events of the previous night. Glancing downward, he realized that he was still clutching the carving you’d gifted him in one hand, the oak wood leaving a firm impression against his scarred palm.

And that’s when it all came flooding back—the banquet, the way those filthy men had dared to put their hands on you, Atticus’ threats, the tears you had shed for him. He closed his eyes against the memory of your confusion and pain when he’d thrown you out of this very cell, everything he’d ever wanted slipping through his fingers because it was the only way he knew how to keep you safe.

His own broken heart was a price he was willing to pay to ensure that no harm befell you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Shuddering, Gallus swallowed deeply and realized he could still taste the salt from his dream. Had it been a dream at all? Or was it just the taste of the fruitless tears he’d shed until exhaustion had finally claimed him sometime before dawn?

Rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders, his ears perked up when he registered the fact that the taste of salt wasn’t the only thing he’d carried over from his dreams. The pounding that had haunted him persisted, though he quickly became aware that it wasn’t the wild stampeding of the crowd, but a fist pummeling his door with single-minded determination.

Groaning under his breath, he felt his bones creak and could hear his joints pop as he slowly rose from the floor, setting the carving down on his small table before gingerly stepping towards the door, apprehensive about who he would find on the other side.

He was only mildly surprised to see an irate Phoenix standing on the threshold of his cell.

“What did you do?” she hissed, shoving one hard finger into his chest as she forced her way into his room without invitation.

Gallus had seen Phoenix this angry before, but it had never been directed at him. It was usually their masters who garnered this much fury from his raven-haired friend. Sighing deeply, he closed the door behind her, quickly glancing from side to side to make sure no one had observed her arrival.

“Phoenix, listen—”

“Don’t you, ‘Phoenix, listen’ me!” she growled, crossing her arms over her chest and planting herself in the center of the room, glaring up at him. She looked immovable, a fierce force of nature the likes of which even a seasoned gladiator might hesitate to go up against. He would be proud of her if it weren’t for the fact that he was also mildly terrified.

“What did you do?” she demanded, repeating her question from when she’d first arrived. “Do you know Sabina came back to the villa in tears last night? I could barely get her to speak at first. I thought for sure something terrible had happened to her, that one of Atticus’ disgusting friends had—” She shook her head, clearly unable to even finish speaking the thought aloud.

Gallus was glad for that, for he suddenly felt bile rising in his throat at the mere thought of any man laying his hands on you against your will. He would kill anyone who tried.

“Phoenix,” he began again, the pitiful remains of his heart breaking at the vision her words conjured up, the idea of your tears too much for him to bear.

“How could you do that to her, Gallus? How?” Phoenix pressed, her cheeks growing red from her mounting frustration. “Do you have any idea how humiliated she is? How ashamed? She said she doesn’t even know how she can return to the ludus again, how she could ever face you after last night. She took a chance, opening herself up to you like that, and you just threw her away. How could you do that?!”

“Phoenix, there are things you don’t understand,” he replied, trying to hide the panic that stirred in his chest at the thought of you never returning to the ludus, of never getting to see you again.

“Then make me understand!” she exploded, lunging forward and shoving at him with both hands, causing him to lose his footing and stumble back a step or two. “Because I know that you care for Sabina, Gallus! I know you, and I know that you have never felt for anybody what you feel for her! So make me understand how you could reject her and break her heart when she offered it to you on a golden platter.”

Her last words were spoken so quietly, yet seemed to steal all the air out of the room.

“Atticus knows,” Gallus told her flatly, his expression as stoic as ever in an attempt to mask the turmoil that was roiling inside him.

“What?” Phoenix gasped, taking a step back as her mouth fell open in shock, some of the rigidity melting away from her posture.

“He knows what Sabina means to me. You know him, Phoenix. You know what a wily bastard he is,” he went on, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “He figured it out even before the banquet. He tried to offer Sabina to me as a—a concubine,” he confessed, swallowing back the distaste that burned in the back of his throat.

Phoenix’s dark eyes widened, her fingers instinctively curling into fists at the thought of Atticus thinking he could turn you out like some kind of whore. What was worse was knowing that he could, and that he could do the same to her on a whim. Not only would neither of you ever be free, but you would never be safe either, not in the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus.

“I knew he was testing me. After all this time, Atticus knows that I want nothing to do with the women he tries to force into my bed. But I still fell into his trap anyway. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him talk about her like that. I couldn’t let him threaten to hurt her,” Gallus murmured, hanging his head in shame that he hadn’t been smart enough to protect you right from the start. “And then last night at the banquet—I couldn’t let those pigs get away with treating her like that. I would do it again, no matter what Atticus did to me.”

“What did Atticus do to you?” Phoenix asked, her voice softer this time as she stepped closer to her oldest friend, reaching up and brushing a gentle hand against the bruise forming just beneath his eye.

He turned his face away, his jaw ticking as Atticus’ words from last night flooded back into his mind. “It doesn’t matter what he did to me. I can take his abuse. He’s not as strong as he likes to think he is,” he muttered, trying not to think about the pain that had exploded beneath his eye when their master’s signet ring had collided with his cheek.

Phoenix was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she stared up at him and waited for him to turn back and meet her eye. “But that wasn’t all he did, was it?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

Gallus shook his head miserably, taking a deep breath as he stepped away from her and lowered himself down on the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands. He remained silent, even as the bed dipped beside him and he felt one of Phoenix’s cool, soothing hands come to rest on his back in a comforting fashion.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, feeling the torment that hovered above him like a storm cloud as keenly as a summer rain soaking her skin. “What did Atticus do?”

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, it was with an expression so broken that he didn’t know how he had managed to make it this far without crumbling to pieces on the floor. “He threatened to hurt her, Phoenix. He threatened to hurt Sabina.”

She knew what his response would be before he even uttered the words, but the reality of the situation still slapped her in the face anyway, more brutal than even Aurelia’s abuse. Phoenix bit back the sob she felt rising in her throat, giving Gallus the space he needed to continue speaking.

“He reminded me that she is his property,” he spat out bitterly, digging his fingernails into his thighs and not even registering the pain. “That Sabina is his to do with as he pleases, and that if I ever dare to step out of line again or go against him in any way, he’ll beat her within an inch of her life and make me watch,” he continued, his voice catching despite himself.

“Oh, Gallus!” Phoenix cried out, wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face against his shoulder to try to mask her own tears.

“You would think it couldn’t get any worse than that, but remember that this is Atticus we’re talking about,” he went on, his utter hatred for his master evident in the way he practically snarled his name. “He also threatened to sell Sabina to the nearest brothel he could find.” His voice grew cold as he repeated Atticus’ threat from last night. He would burn Rome herself to the ground before he allowed that to happen to you.

Phoenix let out a soft gasp, horrified at the mere thought of such a cruel fate befalling you. You were too gentle, too good, too pure. You would never survive a punishment such as that.

“So you see? She’s in danger, Phoenix, and it’s all because of me,” he said miserably, the wounds in his heart being torn open anew as he contemplated the truth that his love and affection for you were what had put a target on your back.

“Hey,” Phoenix replied instantly, sliding off his bed and rising to stand in front of him, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders. “Hey, look at me,” she demanded, waiting until Gallus slowly lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. Setting her face like stone, she told him, “Sabina is not in danger because of you. Any danger she may be in is because of Atticus and his sick, twisted mind. Do you hear me?” She shook his shoulders slightly, as if to emphasize her question.

“Atticus would never have set his sights on her if it weren’t for me. He’s doing this to torment me, Phoenix. So it is my fault,” he argued, shrugging her hands off his shoulders irritably and rising as well, pacing around his cell like a caged lion—or a wolf, as you had so aptly described him. “That’s why I need to keep Sabina as far away from me as possible. If there’s nothing between us, then Atticus has no reason to harm her,” he rationalized, trying to convince himself as much as Phoenix.

To his surprise, Phoenix scoffed in response, crossing her arms once more. “Oh, how noble of you.”

He stared at her, taken aback. “Phoenix—”

“So you think that denying Sabina—denying yourself—any scrap of happiness you might possibly be able to cling to in this miserable place is the right thing to do? Breaking her heart and making her believe you care nothing for her is the best course of action?” Her voice started to rise slightly as her temper grew hotter. “You do realize that we’re all slaves, right? We will always be at the mercy of Atticus and Aurelia and their capricious moods! Who’s to say that Atticus wouldn’t find some other reason to torment Sabina that had nothing to do with you? We both know full well that Aurelia takes great pleasure in making her life a misery. What’s to stop her husband from doing the same? But where she might at least have been able to find a moment’s comfort in your arms, now she’s left feeling even more alone than ever before! Did you think of that when you were trying to play the martyr? Did you?”

Gallus turned away from Phoenix’s barrage of words, overcome by the sense in them and not wanting to face it. She was right, and he knew it. It was nothing but foolishness that would have made him believe he had any sort of power to protect you. That was what was so maddening about all of this. No matter what he did, he could never truly ensure your safety. The reality of it was enough to drive him to insanity.

“Why didn’t you tell Sabina the truth?” Phoenix further pressed him, not letting him off the hook and not allowing him a moment to breathe. “She’s not a child, Gallus. You could have explained to her what was really going on. Don’t you trust her?”

“Of course I do!” he exploded, dragging his hands down his face and trembling with the desire to smash his other stool against the wall, the way he had done to its twin last night. “Of course I trust her! But I wanted to protect her! I wanted to shield her from whatever savagery I could. She’s already experienced so much evil. Why cause her any more heartache if I could avoid it? Why make her live in fear every day?”

“But you didn’t let her make that choice for herself! You took it upon yourself to make it for her!” she snapped back. “So what makes you any different than Atticus or any other master she’s ever had?”

His blood ran cold at her words. It was true. What did make him any better than any other man who had claimed you as his property? For as long as you had been enslaved, your life had not been your own. There was no decision that you were free to make for yourself. Save one, perhaps—no one could truly tell you who to love. But Gallus had taken that freedom from you as well. He had denied you the chance to choose him, to decide that you were willing to pursue whatever this thing was between the two of you, no matter the risk. He had determined that he knew better, and he had broken your heart in the process.

How could he ever hope for you to forgive him?

“What have I done?” he groaned, stumbling towards the table pressed up against his wall and spreading his large hands out to catch himself. His head hung low and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if by doing so he could shut out the catastrophe he had created.

“There’s still time to fix it,” Phoenix reassured him, moving beside him and resting a hand on his arm. She paused a moment before saying, “The games begin today.” He didn’t fail to notice the fear in her eyes as she uttered those words. “You need to have a clear head when you’re fighting in the arena. You have to speak to Sabina and make things right with her before you go.”

“She won’t want to see me,” Gallus said quietly, staring at the carving that sat atop the table. Your gift seemed to silently taunt him, to remind him of all that could have been his, had he not so foolishly thrown it all away. He wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again. He had hurt you badly. He had never deserved you to begin with. “You said it yourself, she doesn’t ever want to step foot in the ludus again.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Sabina,” Phoenix insisted, looking newly determined. “I’ll make sure she gets here before you all leave for the games. Just make sure you tell her the truth.”

As she spun around to leave, her dark braid nearly whipping him in the face, Gallus reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could go. “Phoenix?”

She turned to look up at him expectantly.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, squeezing her hand. He had never been very good at voicing his feelings aloud or expressing himself, but he hoped she knew how much he treasured her friendship, and all the ways he was grateful for her.

As if reading his thoughts, Phoenix beamed up at him. “Hey, what are friends for?”

Before he could stop her a second time, she was out the door in a flash, looking eager as ever to complete this new mission she’d assigned herself. He knew that if Phoenix had set her mind to bringing you here, she would find a way to make it happen. But the thought filled him with nerves greater than those that normally assailed him on the day of an appearance in the Colosseum.

What would he say to you? How could he make you understand? Would you even want to listen to him? Would you want anything to do with him after how he had treated you last night?

Knowing it was a poor idea to just pace in his cell for hours, awaiting your arrival, he dropped down to the ground and began a series of push-ups, trying to clear his mind of everything beyond his impending fight this afternoon. After all, it wouldn’t matter much if you forgave him if he was dead before sundown.

Gritting his teeth, sweat pouring off his face, Gallus pulsed his strong body up and down, up and down, up and down, your face the only thing he could conjure up in his mind’s eye.

You couldn’t believe Phoenix had convinced you to do this.

All of last night, and well into the early hours of the morning, your eyes had poured out an ocean of sorrow, your heart aching with the pain and humiliation of Gallus’ rejection. You’d hardly slept at all, and it showed in your puffy, red-rimmed gaze.

You hadn’t gone to Gallus’ cell last night with the intention of throwing yourself into his arms like some lovesick puppy. You truly had been afraid for him when Atticus dragged him out of the banquet after the scene he’d made, and you just wanted to check on him and make sure he was safe. But there was something about the way he held you, the roughness of his demeanor belying the gentleness of his fingers as he brushed away your tears. And when he ran that calloused thumb across your lips, you thought you might truly melt into a puddle at his feet. There was something in his eyes, something in his touch, something in the way the very air between the two of you crackled with the heat of a summer storm. You had been so sure that he felt it, too, that thing that existed between the two of you that you could not name. So you’d taken a chance and opened yourself up to him in a way you had never done before. Everything you had to offer—your mind, your body, your heart—they were all his for the taking.

But you were wrong. Gallus didn’t want you. That’s why he’d told you to leave. He was probably embarrassed for you, the mousy little slave girl who thought Rome’s champion would actually want her. He could have any woman he wanted—the most beautiful courtesans in Rome would fall at his feet. What would he want with you?

That’s why you hadn’t argued or tried to plead your case when he’d tossed you out of his cell last night. Attempting to piece together the shredded remains of your dignity, you’d simply turned and fled into the night, barely making it out of the ludus before the tears started to fall.

Phoenix had been out of her mind with worry when you finally returned to the female slave quarters, her dark eyes wild with fright when she caught sight of your disheveled, hysterical state. It took a few moments and several deep breaths before you were finally able to assure her that none of Atticus’ guests had accosted you. But when you eventually were able to explain to her the real cause of your tears, embarrassment and shame tingeing every word you whispered, her worry turned to shock, which was quickly replaced by anger.

“He’s an idiot!” she seethed, wrapping her arms around you and stroking your back as you continued to cry. “I’ll talk some sense into him.”

“Phoenix, no!” you gasped, practically choking on your tears as you tried to keep your voice down. “That will only be even more humiliating! He doesn’t want me, don’t you see? We’ll just leave it at that. Oh, but how am I ever supposed to return to the ludus after this?” you whimpered, covering your face with your hands. “I’m so ashamed!”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about,” Phoenix told you sternly, pulling your hands away from your face. “I’m the one who should be ashamed for calling such a fool my friend. There has to be an explanation for his behavior, Sabina. Trust me,” she said, brushing your tears away with her fingertips.

Not wanting to prolong the conversation, you just curled up on your sleeping mat and closed your eyes, although the tears just kept spilling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt at the corners of your mouth.

You must have slept a little bit, because when you awoke just as the first hints of dawn were beginning to break through the small window in your quarters, you rolled over and found that Phoenix was already up and gone. Your stomach sank sharply. You truly hoped she wasn’t off to talk to Gallus as she had threatened.

With the villa already a flurry of activity, you didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Rising and dressing quickly, you grabbed a piece of stale bread from the kitchen before you set about cleaning up the evidence of your masters’ disastrous banquet. Most guests hadn’t left until the early hours of the morning, and in the bright light of day, it became apparent just how much carousing and revelry had gone on the night before.

Atticus and Aurelia seemed to be sleeping off their hangovers, which at least meant that you and the other household slaves could go about your chores in peace, for a few hours anyway. You spent most of the early morning helping clean the gardens, which had apparently been the chosen destination for more than a few rendezvous last night. By the time Phoenix found you, you were on your hands and knees, scrubbing the mosaic tiles of the fountain Dominus had just installed a month ago. It was of the Roman hero Hercules, and you suddenly found yourself unable to look at it. Just a few weeks earlier, you had smiled to yourself, thinking how much it resembled Gallus.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Phoenix exclaimed, dropping down to her knees beside you and grabbing a spare rag so that she could help you.

“It’s been a busy morning,” you murmured softly, turning your face slightly to try to hide your puffy eyes from your friend.

Phoenix, however, was no fool. Reaching out, she rested one hand on your shoulder and waited until you finally looked at her. “I spoke to Gallus.”

“Phoenix!”

“I had to! If nothing else, he deserved a good tongue lashing for the way he treated you last night,” she replied stubbornly, returning to her task and scrubbing at a particularly pesky stain.

When she said nothing else, your curiosity got the best of you and you bit your tongue before asking, “And? What happened?”

“Ah, so you do care,” Phoenix winked, her eyes twinkling as she nudged you teasingly.

“Phoenix!”

“Alright, alright,” she said, throwing up her hands in surrender. “As I suspected, he had his reasons for doing what he did last night. I don’t necessarily agree with them, and I told him so, but I promise you that his intentions were good.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, but you tamped down foolish hope before it had a chance to grow wings.

“What were they?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though you both knew you were anything but.

Phoenix shook her head, which caused your pulse to quicken nervously. “He has to be the one to tell you that, Sabina. He assured me that he would.”

“But, Phoenix!” you argued, running a clammy hand down your face. “I—I can’t! I can’t go back there and face him, not after everything—”

“Sabina,” Phoenix interrupted, pulling your hand away from your face and squeezing it tightly. “He’s going to be leaving in a few hours for the Colosseum. This may very well be—well—you don’t know what the Fates have in store,” she said, her voice much more subdued and her expression suddenly downcast. “You don’t want to have any regrets that you didn’t set things right between the two of you before he goes. Trust me. Just go talk to him. Please.”

As terrified as you were about the prospect of facing Gallus again after all that had transpired, you were even more terrified at the prospect of letting him leave without saying goodbye, knowing that it was possible you would never set eyes on him again in the land of the living. The thought alone made you feel ill.

So that was how, once the gardens and the fountains were cleaned, you had somehow ended up trailing behind Phoenix on your way to the ludus once more.

Neither of you spoke as you walked behind your friend, nervously twisting your sweaty palms in the folds of your tunic. You hadn’t felt this afraid to enter the gladiator training grounds since that first day that Titus had asked you to assist him. The day you met Gallus for the first time.

As you came closer to the training arenas, you realized that the ludus was a hive of activity. With it being the first day of the summer games, everyone was in a frantic rush to get everything ready for the transport to the Colosseum. You and Phoenix were able to slip by most of the men without attracting any sort of attention.

That was, anyway, until you began to approach the Pugiones’ training grounds.

“Ladies! Come to wish us luck?” Caius called out, grinning broadly as he flexed his muscles just for show. “Apollo already beat you to it,” he added with a chuckle, indicating the little orange cat who was currently rubbing up against his ankle.

He was standing with Pollux and Felix, but the other Pugiones were nowhere in sight.

“Of course,” Phoenix grinned in return, taking your hand as she pulled you over to where your friends were standing. “We couldn’t let you leave without wishing you all the best.”

“Are you alright, Sabina?” Felix asked in concern, noting the wan expression on your face despite your best attempts to mask it.

Caius and Pollux both turned in your direction, looking equally concerned.

They were off to put their lives on the line in the Colosseum and they were worried about you? The thought alone was enough to make you want to curl up and weep. But you didn’t. Instead, you straightened your spine and forced what you hoped was a calm and reassuring smile onto your face.

“Of course,” you fibbed, nodding your head slowly. “Just a bit tired after last night. I’ve never served at a banquet quite like that before.” It wasn’t totally a lie.

“Don’t remind us,” Pollux sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. “Of course Atticus couldn’t let the evening pass without trying to put on a show. But it looks like Gallus bested him at his own game,” he added, the men sharing pointed looks with one another before turning back to you and Phoenix.

“I’ve never seen him lose control like that before. At least, not outside of the arena,” Felix said, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry before either.” He shot you a sideways glance before continuing, “I heard him last night, in his room. It sounded like he was trying to turn every piece of furniture he owns into firewood.”

Caius and Pollux grimaced, but said nothing.

His words instantly caught your attention, however. All of Gallus’ furniture had been perfectly intact when you arrived at his cell last night. Had he started destroying things after you left? But if so, why?

Phoenix glanced at you knowingly before reaching down to scratch Apollo behind the ears. “See? He knew enough to come back to wish you boys luck before you leave. Not that you’ll need it. You’re the best of the best. You always come home.”

Her words hung in the air as the five of you looked at one another, no one wanting to admit out loud that it was a very real possibility that someone—maybe more than one someone—wouldn’t be coming home tonight.

“You’re all going to be great,” she went on, clearing her throat as if to dislodge the emotion that had suddenly wedged itself there. “The people love you. Give them a show, and then come back in one piece, will you?” Avoiding eye contact, she quickly wrapped each of them in a hug before stepping back.

“Good luck, boys,” you told them, not trusting yourself to say much more for fear that you would break down crying. Following Phoenix’s lead, you gave each of them a hug before stepping back and quickly wiping away a traitorous tear at the corner of your eye.

Caius, Pollux, and Felix all cleared their throats as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Well, we’d better finish getting ourselves prepared. We’ll see you both tonight,” Pollux told you, emphasizing his last statement to let you both know that none of them had any intentions of losing today.

As the trio walked away, Phoenix sighed softly and turned to look at you. She bit her lip, glancing over both shoulders before whispering, “I’m going to try to say goodbye to Carnifex. I’ll meet you back here, okay?”

You simply nodded in response, for your mouth suddenly felt as dry as sand. You glanced over your friend’s shoulder in the direction of Gallus’ cell, but your feet felt rooted to the ground.

“Hey,” Phoenix murmured gently, reaching out to take hold of both your hands. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.” She gave you one last squeeze of reassurance before nudging you in the direction of Gallus’ room, her own path diverging as she headed towards Carnifex’s.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other, your body moving as if of its own accord until you were finally standing outside of the cell that you had run from not very many hours before. Your stomach flopped anxiously as you lifted a hand to knock, hurt and humiliation and fear and worry all roiling together inside you like the stew that Alba was always stirring over the hearth fire. Before you could think better of it, you rapped a couple times on the door, pulling your hand back as though it had burned you.

It seemed to take an eternity, and you were about ready to turn and flee once more when the door suddenly swung open and you were standing face to face with the man who had stolen your heart, much as he evidently would have preferred not to.

Just as it had the night before, the air between you seemed to crackle like Jupiter’s thunderbolts. Your breath got caught in your throat as you gazed up at this giant of a man who made it so difficult to think straight whenever he was near. He looked dressed for battle, and you realized you had never before seen him in his full regalia for a bout in the Colosseum. With his leg greaves, armguard, and protective belt, and his shoulder-length hair tied back from his face, he looked every inch the mighty Hercules, ready to slay the Nemean lion.

You were embarrassed to realize you were staring, mouth slightly agape, but that was when it dawned on you that he was staring, too. His dark eyes, which looked almost golden in the midmorning light, were wide as he gazed down at you, one of his large hands, which had cradled you so tenderly last night, gripping the door frame as if for dear life, his scarred knuckles turning white from the effort.

Your heart skipped a few beats when it struck you that you had no idea what to say to him. In all the time you had been growing closer to him, that had never been a problem, but now your brain couldn’t think of one logical or reasonable thing to say. The only thing that came out of your mouth was a small and hesitant, “Hi.”

It seemed as though he had been holding his breath, for he suddenly let out a long sigh, his chest heaving slightly as he continued to look at you. “Hi,” he rasped, lowering his hand to his side. That was when you noticed the bruises and cuts that you were fairly certain hadn’t been there the day before, and were once again reminded of Felix’s words.

Not knowing what else to do, you looked back up at his face and said, “Phoenix said that I should come talk to you.”

Was it your imagination or did he deflate slightly, his shoulders stooping somewhat as he nodded in response? Had he been hoping you would come see him of your own accord?

“Yes, of course. I know how persuasive she can be,” he replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile as he attempted to lighten the mood. When he saw that your expression didn’t change, however, his smile fell. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, not confident you had it in you to cross that threshold again.

“Please, Sabina,” he begged earnestly, leaning towards you, but then thinking better of it and stepping back again. “There’s no excuse for how I treated you last night. For what I did. But I’d like to try to explain it to you. I don’t want to lose—to lose you. Please?”

Something in his voice, in the genuineness of his expression, compelled you, and you nodded, stepping into his room and glancing around slowly as he closed the door behind you.

In the corner of the room was a mound of broken bits of wood that had been swept together in one neat pile. Your eyes flickered towards the table where you and Gallus had often passed a meal together, and your mind registered the fact that there was now only one stool residing beneath it. But there, at the center of the table, sat the small carving that you had bought him in the Forum—the wolf and the dove. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Turning, you found that Gallus’ tormented eyes were fixed on you, his gaze flicking quickly towards the carving before landing back on you once more.

“Sabina,” Gallus began slowly, his voice thick and heavy, draping around you like a blanket in the tight confines of his cell. It had never felt as small as it did at that moment.

“I’m sorry, Gallus,” you interjected, unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. “I’m sorry about last night. I presumed too much, and you were right to turn me away. We don’t need to speak about it again, and I promise that I will remember my place from now on.”

He let out a loud breath in the silence that followed, as if he had just been punched in the gut. “You’re—what? You’re sorry?” he repeated incredulously, his eyes going wide once again. It took him a moment to fully process your words, but then he was shaking his head and stepping closer to you. “Sabina, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you. I treated you abominably last night. I hurt you, even though that is truly the last thing on earth I ever wanted to do.”

With each statement, he drew closer to you, but you could tell his movements were slow and intentional. He didn’t want you to feel caged. He made sure there was space for you to move away from him, if you so chose. But you made the choice to remain rooted in place as he approached.

“I didn’t want to turn you away,” he confessed quietly, just a handbreadth away from you now. Your breath intermingled as he angled his face downward, capturing your gaze with his own. He lifted one hand, painfully slow, and ghosted it against your cheek as he whispered, his voice husky, “And you presumed nothing.”

Your heart began racing at his words, at his touch, at the nearness of him. It felt as though your body was physically aching with need for him, but you were frozen. This was almost the same situation you had been in last night, but it had ended so disastrously then.

“Why?” you breathed out, your hands tentatively reaching out to rest against his bare chest. You could feel his body go taut beneath your palms, his throat tightening as he stared at you. “Why did you make me leave if you didn’t want me to?”

You wanted so desperately to understand.

“Sabina,” he said your name again, so reverently it almost sounded like the prayers of the priests as they made their offerings to the gods. “There—there’s so much I want to tell you. There’s so much I need you to understand,” he told you, looking like a desperate man as he cradled your face in his hands, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“I want to understand, Gallus,” you whispered in return, closing your eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. You wanted to commit it to memory forever. “Please, whatever it is, just tell me. Help me understand,” you pleaded.

“You have to know—”

His words were suddenly interrupted by the sharp blare of a horn blasting outside.

Startled, the both of you turned towards the door, Gallus still holding your face between his hands. His gaze darkened as he glared forward.

“It’s time for us to go,” he stated, a sense of defeat in his tone as he turned back to you. “Atticus can’t catch you in here,” he added, a strain of something else—fear?—marking his words.

“Gallus, please, talk to me. Tell me, whatever it is,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes at the thought of having to say goodbye to him now, with so much still left unsaid between you.

“There’s no time,” Gallus murmured regretfully, sounding near tears himself. He caressed your cheek lightly as he leaned in, your foreheads touching as they had before. “We’ll talk…when I get back. I promise.”

“Come back,” you begged, taking one of his large hands between both of your own and squeezing tightly. “Please come back to me.”

“I will always come back for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Go, now, before anyone sees. I’ll see you tonight. I promise.”

“Goodbye, Gallus,” you breathed out, wrapping him in a tight embrace before tearing yourself away and making for the door.

You were nearly out of hearing range when the words, “Goodbye, little dove,” floated past your ears.

Fighting hard not to break down weeping, you ran to find Phoenix.

Phoenix was finding it shockingly difficult to keep from weeping herself as she stood in the center of Carnifex’s cell, wrapped in her lover’s embrace as the two of them silently held one another.

She hadn’t intended to stay long. She had only wanted to wish him luck and say a quick farewell before the men were trundled off to the Colosseum, but Carnifex had other plans.

“There you are,” he’d murmured when she slipped into his cell, rising from the edge of his bed and wasting no time in taking her into his arms, his kiss as hungry as it always was—even more so, perhaps.

“There isn’t time,” she had scolded him, slapping his hands away as he began fumbling with the ties of her tunic. “And besides, that isn’t how you should be spending your energy right now.”

“Ah, and are you my lanista now?” he teased, honoring her wishes and opting for running his fingers through her hair instead. She’d worn it loose to come see him, knowing how much he loved to play with her long, dark locks.

“I should be, considering I seem to know just the way to tame you, stubborn beast that you are,” she smirked, wrapping her arms around his muscular shoulders and kissing him again. “I can’t stay long,” she added a moment later, lowering her feet to the floor and releasing him from her hold. “I just came to say—”

“Don’t leave yet,” Carnifex interrupted, his tone urgent, desperate even. “Please. Stay. Just for a few moments longer.”

“Carnifex,” Phoenix murmured, biting her lower lip as she glanced over her shoulder. “If anyone catches me in here…”

“Let them catch you!” His words burst forth as impetuously as a child’s.

This man. He would be the death of her.

“How could you say something like that?” she demanded hotly, her frustration matched only by her infuriating affection for this impossible gladiator. Forcing a calming breath out of her lungs, she moved closer to him and took his face between her hands, looking deeply into eyes so green, they reminded her of the seafoam back home. “You know what would happen if we were found out. What Aurelia and Atticus are capable of. Do not tempt them, or the gods, with your arrogance.”

“I would defy all the gods for just a few more moments with you,” he insisted, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he drew her in closer and pressed hot kisses to her neck.

“Then you are a fool!” she snapped, angrily pushing him away and turning her back on him. “I knew this was a mistake!”

He was silent behind her, and regret filled her veins at the harshness of her tone.

“Carnifex,” she murmured, spinning back to face him once more. Her heart was pierced by the look of hurt on his face, the look that he did nothing to try to mask.

Stepping closer to her, until they were no more than a breath apart, Carnifex stared down at her, his expression inscrutable as his light eyes bore into her dark ones.

“Would you miss me?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“What?” she asked, shaking her head and trying to back away from him. “Stop it.”

“Answer the question, Phoenix,” he demanded, matching her step for step. “Would you miss me? Do you care what happens to me in the arena?”

“What kind of question is that?” she huffed, growing more frazzled by the second. She had just come to wish him luck and to see him off. What was all this?

“A question you still haven’t answered,” he shot back pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to stare her down. “Well?”

“Of course I do!” Phoenix exploded, running her fingers through her hair like a madwoman. “How could you even ask me that? Why do you think I’m here?!”

“Why are you here, Phoenix?” Carnifex pressed, arching a brow coolly.

“Because I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye! Is that what you want to hear?” she practically shouted, for once not caring who heard them. “Because my heart is breaking at the thought of you walking through those gates and never returning, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you go without seeing you one last time!” Her chest was heaving as she battled the force of her own emotions, wanting to both claw and kiss him at the same time.

Carnifex made that decision for her, easily closing the gap between them as he lifted her into his arms and engulfed her in a kiss so hungry, so forceful, so tender that for a moment, she lost all sense of time and space.

Burying her fingers in his hair and wrapping her legs around his waist, she kissed him back with equal fervor, the two of them devouring one another as if it was their last meal on earth.

“Phoenix,” he groaned against her lips, gripping her body tightly and molding it to his. “Oh, Phoenix.” He never wanted to forget the feeling of her pressed against him.

There were no more words left to say as she silently slid back to the floor, her arms still wrapped tightly around him while he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, that hair that forever reminded him of ravens and the darkness of night.

They held each other like that for what could have been minutes or hours. Neither of them were quite sure. But when the blast of the horn signaling the men’s departure broke through the shield of their private haven, they slowly broke apart, their eyes trained on each other’s faces.

“Just come back, you hear me?” she told him, forcing herself to maintain a stiff upper lip. “Preferably in one piece so that Titus and I don’t have to spend all night stitching you back together.”

Carnifex couldn’t help but chuckle at that. No one could accuse his Phoenix of being a soft woman.

His Phoenix. When exactly had she become his Phoenix? Was she really his?

“I’ll come back. I always do,” he assured her with a wink, giving her one last kiss before walking towards the door. He told himself that he could leave without looking back, but his head turned of its own accord when he reached the threshold.

He would carry the image of her, standing with that raven hair loose and wild about her shoulders, with him into battle today and all the days of his life.

Once he was gone, Phoenix waited a few moments before slipping out of his cell, each step she took feeling more painful than the last as she fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

She didn’t have to go far before she found you hidden behind a lavender bush near the break between the ludus and the villa, wiping tears off your cheeks and making a brave effort to compose yourself.

“Oh, my sweet friend,” she murmured in understanding, sitting down on the ground beside you and wrapping you in her arms. “They’re going to come back,” she promised. “They will.”

Even as she said the words, she knew they rang hollow. What did she know? How could she make such promises?

She couldn’t.

Like you, all Phoenix could do was sit and watch as the men were loaded up and carted away, being shipped off to an uncertain fate in which the odds were most certainly not stacked in their favor.

Swallowing back the bitterness and the fear that threatened to consume her, she clung to you and whispered over and over again, “They’re coming back.”

The insatiable roar of the crowd pounded in his head, rattling his bones and beating like a drum in his bloodstream.

This time, however, it wasn’t a dream.

They roared his name, those bloodthirsty Romans who hadn’t been satiated by the hours upon hours of beast hunts, public executions, and brutal gladiator matches they’d already witnessed.

Nothing would ever satisfy them, Gallus realized. No matter how this match ended today, they’d still come back tomorrow, braying for more blood to be spilled across the sands of the arena. They were the most soulless people he had ever encountered. There was nothing honorable about death in the Colosseum, about men who were stripped of all means of protection and devoured by feral lions and tigers, about prisoners of war shrieking for mercy as they were hacked to pieces or torn limb from limb, about slaves who were pitted against one another and forced to kill just for the chance to see another day, when they’d be forced to do it all over again. And all for the entertainment of the thousands of people who surrounded him now, their ugly faces red and puckered as they screamed for violence and bloodshed.

The Romans called his people the barbarians, but he had never known a more barbaric people in his life.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, making it even harder to see beneath the bronze helmet that hindered his peripheral vision. As the pounding in his head intensified, Gallus gripped his sword all the tighter, holding it out before him in a defensive gesture as he subtly adjusted his hold on the shield he carried.

His was the very last match of the day, the grand finale to wrap up the inaugural day of the summer games. He had spent all afternoon in agony, thinking of you and worrying about the fate of his friends. As the day wore on and he watched Caius, Pollux, Felix, and Carnifex each walk through the Door of Victory one by one, he was able to breathe a little easier. But it didn’t change the anxiety he felt about his own bout. Magnus had informed him upon their arrival that he had been paired to fight against Aengus, a Gallic gladiator who was thus far undefeated and growing in popularity.

There was once a time in his life when it didn’t matter to him who he was paired against. He cared very little whether he lived or died, so it mattered very little to him what his odds were of defeating his opponent. But now, for the first time, Gallus wanted very much to live. He wanted to leave the arena through the Door of Victory. If he didn’t, he would never get to see you again. And that was not an option.

Aengus had proven to be an admirable opponent indeed. The two of them had been battling for close to thirty minutes, with neither side making much headway. Domitian and all his sniveling cronies didn’t seem to mind, not so long as the gladiators they had paid for put on a good show. For it was only when the people grew bored that the emperor’s good will evaporated.

And there was nothing more dangerous for a gladiator than a foul-tempered emperor.

But Gallus and Aengus had been living up to their reputations as undefeated champions, prowling about one another in a dangerous dance as they lunged and parried, nicking flesh and targeting weak points, but never quite succeeding in bringing the other to his knees.

The deafening screams of the crowd smothered the heavy breathing of the two men fighting for their lives upon sand that had already devoured the blood and mangled flesh of countless beasts and men alike that day. The thought struck Gallus as he circled his enemy—no, not his enemy, just the man they would force him to kill if he ever had any hope of seeing you again—that this stadium had seen more brutality and death than many a battlefield.

And many of the men who had fallen here had fallen at his hands.

He could hear people shrieking his name, goading him on to victory and demanding that he finish his opponent off. His opponent—a man who, like him, had no say in becoming a murderer for sport. A man whose only crime was trying to stay alive.

He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t. Not now. He couldn’t look at Aengus and see the humanity in him. For if he did that, it would all be over. He might as well fold now and offer his throat up to the other man’s blade. He needed to be ruthless, to cut this enemy down with single-minded focus and determination. It was the only way.

He needed to do whatever it took to get back to you. He had promised he would always come back for you, and he wouldn’t break that vow.

Fueled by the need to get home to you—to explain everything to you as he had promised and make you understand—Gallus’ strength was suddenly renewed and he pounced at Aengus, bringing his sword down against the other man’s shield so roughly that he felt the force of it vibrating up his arm.

The people went wild, but he ignored them all. This wasn’t for them.

Aengus had taken a fair number of shots at him during the match, and his body was hurting, but as he observed his opponent carefully through slitted eyes, he realized that the Gallic gladiator was suffering more than he had initially thought. Though he masked it well, Aengus was favoring his left side and his chest was heaving erratically, indicating that his breathing was growing more labored as the match went on.

“Come on, barbarian!” Aengus called out tauntingly, waving his sword in the air, almost a bit impatiently. “Let’s finish this!”

Crouching down into an attack position, Gallus took his time, circling the other man slowly, his eyes never leaving his face. Perhaps this was what he needed. He could wait the other man out, draw on his impatience and force him to react impulsively. For in the arena, impulsivity often meant fatal mistakes.

The spectators were growing restless, buzzing with the need to see more blood spilled before they packed up and went home for the day. Their cries were growing manic, their feet and fists pounding as they howled for death.

Gallus thought only of you, and he waited.

His patience was finally rewarded as, growing frustrated by the lack of action, Aengus rushed at him, sword raised high even as his shield arm hung dangerously low. He let out a loud cry—what must have been the battle cry of his people—as he leapt at Gallus.

This was Gallus’ chance and he had to take it. He had spotted the chink in Aengus’ armor as they’d been circling one another, but he needed just the right moment to take advantage of it. And now, with the other man’s shield arm weakened, that moment had arrived. As Aengus ran at him, Gallus waited until the final second to lift his sword and plunge it into his opponent’s shoulder, severing bone and muscle as he did so.

Aengus roared in pain as he collapsed to his knees, somehow managing to remain upright even as Gallus pulled his sword out of his shoulder, soaked in the Gallic gladiator’s blood.

The crowd’s reaction reached a fever pitch, the people screaming for Gallus to finish him off, this undefeated champion who they had once cheered for.

He had never known a people so fickle as the Romans.

Gallus didn’t even look up at the emperor’s box, though at this point he knew Domitian must have been giving the people what they wanted and indicating the sign for death with his thumb.

It was time to finish this.

As he raised his sword, Aengus raised his head and met his eyes from behind his own helmet. “Do it,” he said stoically, staring death in the face without a hint of fear.

Swallowing, Gallus raised his sword and pointed it at Aengus’ exposed throat. The Romans loved a drawn out, torturous demise, but he knew he could end this man’s suffering in one fell swoop.

“You would be doing me a favor,” Aengus chuckled, tossing his own sword down onto the sand at Gallus’ feet. Pain flashed in his eyes as he told him, “I can be with my Clodagh again.”

Respect for this man flooded every fiber of Gallus’ being. He had fought well. He had fought nobly. And he was willing to face death like a true warrior. He had made his people proud.

“May your Clodagh be there to greet you,” Gallus murmured, thrusting his sword forward and turning away as the light went out of Aengus’ eyes.

Jaw tightening, he threw his helmet down to the ground and stormed towards the Door of Victory, refusing to meet the eye of the emperor or any of the tens of thousands who cheered his name and showered flowers and gifts down upon him.

He had lived to see another day, but as always, it was at the cost of another man’s life. This time, it was a man who had willingly succumbed to death so that he could be with his love again.

Your face, your beautiful, precious face, was the only thing on Gallus’ mind as he stalked down the tunnel towards where Magnus and the other Pugiones were waiting for him, clapping him on the back and welcoming his return.

They didn’t cheer him. They knew, as he did, that there was nothing to cheer for, much as the Romans may have disagreed. There was nothing but silent acknowledgement among all of them that they had lived once more, that the gods had not yet seen fit to cut their chords of life, and that they would be returning home together.

Home.

Gallus had never considered the household of Atticus Cornelius Juventus to be home. He had never considered anywhere to be home after he was dragged away from the rolling hills of Britannia.

But as he climbed into the cart that would carry him in chains back to the villa of his master, he thought of you and for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Rome, he knew that he was going home.

All afternoon, you and Phoenix had been working side by side in silence, sick with worry and fruitlessly trying to avoid thinking of all that could be happening at the Colosseum.

Apollo, sweet creature that he was, seemed to sense your anxiety and kept curling up in your laps or against your sides as the two of you scrubbed the training weapons and washed and hung the laundry in the ludus.

At least Aurelia had gone to the games with Atticus, so you were left to work in relative peace.

You couldn’t eat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t concentrate or think straight. All you could do was wonder what it was that Gallus had wanted to tell you, and pray to every god you could think of that he would return safe and unharmed. The gods had never seemed to hear or care about your prayers, but you begged them all the same. It was the only thing you could think to do. You were powerless to do anything else.

The sun was well past its zenith and beginning to sink lower in the sky when Titus suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. He was panting slightly and running a hand through his thinning hair.

“They’re coming,” he told you and Phoenix, the both of you freezing in place. “I’ll need your help.”

He said nothing more as he turned on his heel and rushed back to the main gate of the ludus, which was opening now to welcome back the gladiators who had returned victorious.

You and Phoenix turned to look at each other, reaching out and squeezing each other’s hands, exchanging silent words of comfort and assurance before you hurried after the medicus.

Holding your breath, you stood silently and watched as the men filed back into the ludus one by one, appearing varying levels of exhausted and traumatized. Some were worse off than others, and you knew that Titus was already performing triage in his mind, determining who needed care more urgently, and who could wait a while longer. Your eyes flickered across each man’s face, taking in the newer gladiators your master had purchased, the ones who fought in the early afternoon as a sort of warm-up for the main events.

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you realized that two men you had tended to recently, men who really couldn’t have been more than boys, were not among those who had returned. You blinked back tears and felt your throat constrict.

For the first time, you truly understood why Titus had warned you not to bother learning their names.

Phoenix reached out and grabbed onto your arm, her short fingernails digging into your skin as the newer recruits finished filing into the ludus, making way for the champions.

Felix was the first to emerge from the cart, followed quickly by Pollux and Caius. Your heart leapt with relief at the sight of your friend’s faces, but sank again when you did not immediately catch sight of Carnifex or Gallus.

You could tell that, like you, Phoenix was no longer breathing as the two of you stood waiting for what felt like an eternity, your eyes growing wide.

Just when you were certain your friend was going to unintentionally break your arm, Carnifex suddenly appeared, looking a bit tired, but altogether well. Phoenix let out a strangled breath beside you, easing her grip on your arm, but not letting go.

Your heart was hammering painfully inside your chest as you waited for him to appear. He had to be there. He had to be with them. The rest of the Pugiones had survived, and he was the very best of them. You felt hysteria bubbling up inside you, threatening to consume you, when all at once, there he was.

There he was.

He looked bone-tired, his strong body littered with superficial cuts and bruises, but he was alive. He was alive! He had come back, just as he promised.

It took everything in you to resist the urge to run to him and fling yourself into his arms. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to see for yourself that he was truly whole and well.

You could tell that Phoenix was resisting that same urge as she bounced restlessly beside you, her eyes never leaving Carnifex’s face. He looked across the training grounds at her, and you swore you could have started a fire with the look that smoldered between them.

Cheeks growing warm, you turned away from the shockingly intimate moment and sought out the man who had captured your own heart. As your gaze roamed across the grounds, you were drawn instantly to him, like a moth to a flame. Your eyes landed on his handsome face, and you were somehow unsurprised to find that he was already looking at you.

Your heart grew wings, fluttering inside you as if it wanted to escape your chest.

The moment between you was broken, however, when Titus called out, “Girls, come! I need you!”

You had never considered yourself an impatient person, but the next few hours were torment for you as Titus put you and Phoenix to work, helping him tend to the worst of the men’s injuries. Unsurprisingly, the Pugiones had suffered minimal injuries which had mostly been dealt with at the Colosseum. They were sent to their cells with express orders to rest almost as soon as the medicus laid eyes on them. But you and Phoenix had to spend the majority of the evening cleaning and stitching deep wounds, setting broken fingers, and assessing the amount of internal injuries potentially impacting the greenest of Atticus’ gladiators.

By the time all was said and done, and Titus had dismissed you, you still had to return to the villa to avoid raising suspicion. Thankfully, Atticus and Aurelia were dining at the home of a wealthy acquaintance, which meant that you and Phoenix could quickly scarf down some dinner in the kitchen before slowly making your way back to the ludus.

It was startlingly quiet as you returned to the gladiator school. You didn’t think you had ever seen the grounds so abandoned, or heard such silence.

As you and Phoenix approached the men’s cells, she reached out to take your hand, smiling a bit impishly. “I’ll probably be a while tonight,” she admitted, not a hint of shame in her expression. “And I hope you will, too,” she added with a wink.

“Phoenix,” you mumbled in embarrassment, lowering your head as you felt your skin grow warm.

She laughed softly, wrapping you in a tight hug before turning towards Carnifex’s cell. “Good luck,” she whispered, disappearing in the blink of an eye. You had never known anyone as stealthy as your friend.

Taking a deep, calming breath, you ignored the fact that your hands and knees were trembling as you walked towards Gallus’ cell, seeing the tiny flicker of a flame glowing through his small window.

You had barely finished knocking, the sound so soft you weren’t even certain he would hear it, when his door suddenly swung open, his dark eyes looking wild as he gazed down at you.

“You came back,” you whispered, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked up at him.

In one fluid movement, Gallus reached out and took you into his arms, pulling you into his cell and shutting the door behind you. His embrace engulfed you, your cheek pressed against his chest as he held you close and buried his face in your hair.

Closing your eyes and taking a shuddering breath, you wrapped your arms around his middle and clung to him, silently thanking whatever gods had heard you for returning him to you.

When the two of you finally broke apart, arms still loosely wrapped around one another, you took a small step back so that you could gaze up at him once more. He was silent as you examined him, the light from the candle burning nearby illuminating his skin and casting a golden glow over his dark hair.

“I was afraid I would never see you again,” you confessed, your voice small as he reached up slowly to touch your cheek.

“You were the only thing on my mind all day today,” he replied, his rough fingertips somehow feeling so smooth against your skin. “It was the thought of you that brought me back.”

Squeezing your eyes shut at his admission, a few stray tears slid down your cheeks. “Gallus, I’m so confused,” you whispered hoarsely, the sting of his rejection from last night still burning a hole in your heart. “What—what is this between us?”

He sighed softly, reluctantly releasing you and taking a step back. “It’s my fault you’re confused. I—I thought that I was doing what was best, but I selfishly just can’t stay away from you,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he shook his head and turned to face the flickering candle, the light of which caught on the small carving of the wolf and the dove.

“I don’t want you to stay away from me,” you blurted out, stepping closer to him and reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Gallus, please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Help me understand.”

Gallus slowly turned to meet your eye, and you could see the full weight of his agony and fear. It was staggering in its intensity, and you found yourself trembling in response. But you held firm to his arm, showing him that you were not going to run away.

“Sabina,” he began quietly, his voice a desperate rasp between you. “Atticus is not a good man.”

You blinked slowly, your heart suddenly seizing with terror. What had Atticus done to him last night? And was it all because of you, because of what Gallus had done to defend you? You felt sick.

“What—what happened?” you asked softly, afraid to know, but also recognizing that it was the key to understanding Gallus’ actions last night.

Sighing again, a soul-deep sigh, Gallus leaned forward and rested his palms on the flat surface of the table. He was quiet for several minutes, but you stood beside him, patiently waiting.

“Sit down,” he told you gently, pulling out the one remaining stool and setting you down upon it carefully, making sure you were comfortable. He paused again before saying, “Atticus has always known that he hasn’t had anything to hold over my head, and it makes him crazy. I’ve never truly cared whether I lived or died, and there isn’t anything he can take from me that I haven’t lost already.”

You sat perched on the stool and listened to him carefully, still except for one hand nervously twisting in the folds of your tunic.

“He’s tried many times to lure me with gifts and rewards, trying to find some kind of weakness in me that he can exploit for whatever his purposes are. That’s what he does, Sabina. He watches people and he learns their weaknesses and he uses them against them.” He sighed again, running his hands through his hair as he clearly fought to continue on. “And I always thought that I was safe from all that, that there was no weakness he could find in me, nothing he could manipulate to get to me. But now there is,” he admitted, fixing his gaze on you slowly.

“What is it?” you asked, your pulse pounding in your veins.

“You.”

The word hung between the two of you, suspended as if in midair as your eyes widened and the truth of it etched itself across Gallus’ face.

“Atticus knows that I care for you, that I would sooner die than see any harm befall you. And after the stunt I pulled at the banquet last night—well, now there’s no denying it,” he grimaced.

“Oh, Gallus, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, feeling responsible for the turmoil he was facing.

Gallus held up his hand, halting your apology. “No, Sabina. This is all me. I’m responsible for this.”

“I still don’t fully understand,” you said slowly, biting your lip as you looked up at him. “Last night, during the banquet, when Atticus pulled you away—what happened? What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did,” Gallus told you, his voice low and saturated with bitterness. “It’s what he threatened to do.”

You felt nauseous all of a sudden, but you couldn’t quite explain why. You sat silently, both hands resting still in your lap, waiting for Gallus to go on.

He surprised you by suddenly kneeling on the ground before you, taking both your hands in his and resting his forehead against them. “Sabina, this is all my fault. I wanted to protect you. I’m so sorry.”

“Gallus, what is it? Whatever it is, just tell me,” you coaxed gently, slipping one of your hands out of his grasp and resting it atop his head, running your fingers through his hair.

When Gallus finally lifted his head to look at you, his misery was so profound that it took your breath away. “He threatened you, Sabina. He knows now that he finally has something to hold over my head. He made it clear that should I ever do anything to displease him, he would take it out on you, that he would hurt you and—and—” It seemed that there was more on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Gasping softly, you took his face between your hands and pressed your forehead to his, absorbing all the pain and fear and misery he had been carrying around all on his own. The horror of his admission—and of just how awful a man your master truly was—washed over you, but you clung to him all the tighter, refusing to let him go.

“I thought—I thought that if I could distance myself from you, push you away, that you would be safe,” Gallus went on, pain cracking his words and splitting them in half. “Sabina, last night—you have to know how much I—but I—”

He had been trying to protect you. What you had understood to be rejection and indifference was in reality a testament to just how much this man cared for you. He was willing to break his own heart, to let go of you forever, if it meant keeping you out of the clutches of your vindictive master.

No one had ever cared for you in such a way before.

“Gallus,” you whispered, stroking his face as you stared deeply into those dark golden eyes of his.

You understood now the magnitude of what it meant to give yourself to him. You thought of Phoenix and her fear of having her relationship with Carnifex found out. You thought of the tragic, ill-fated love of Rufus and Niobe. It was a risk, a danger to give your heart to him and accept his heart in return. It would make sense to do as he said, to distance yourself from him and let him push you away.

But he was the first glimpse of true happiness you had ever known in this life that was not your own. With him, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

You had known nothing but pain and suffering and misery since you were six years old. Your heart had been broken more times than you could count. You had survived and pushed forward anyway, compelled by some force you couldn’t name and certainly couldn’t understand. But you knew, with undeniable clarity, that you would not survive this heartbreak if you had to give him up. It was like you had been drifting out at sea all these years, and he was your first real sight of the shoreline—of safety, of security, of home.

You could not let him go.

Whispering his name once more, you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to his, kissing him so tenderly that you felt your own heart shatter and then begin to knit itself back together again, stronger than before.

Gallus was still for a moment, frozen beneath your touch as your lips covered his. But then, as if by instinct and the guidance of some invisible force, his arms came to wrap around your waist and he rose slowly, pulling you off the stool as he did so. One hand came up to bury itself in your hair as he kissed you back, his mouth moving against yours in a way that was almost shy.

You moaned softly, tightening your grip on him as you stood on your tiptoes, melting into him. You felt the wetness on your cheeks, but it took you a moment to realize that they weren’t your tears.

Pulling back, breathing heavily, you stared up at him, at this man who had captured you, mind, body, and soul, and found that he was crying.

Lifting your hand, you brushed away his tears, as he had done so many times for you, and smiled at him through the haze of your own emotion.

“I am yours,” you vowed, pushing his hair back and cradling his face in your hands. “No matter what anyone does to me, I will always be yours.”

“Sabina,” Gallus breathed out, pulling you into his arms and kissing you again, relief coursing through his body as he held you close.

He held you like he would never let you go.

And as you kissed him, your mouths fitting together like they had been carved by the gods for that express purpose, you knew with unwavering certainty that there would never be another for you in this life.

He was yours, and you were his. Forever.

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller #Ancient Rome AU #si vis amari ama ⚔️

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annepsilvaauthor · 2 years

Text

Fighter Weapons — Prologue

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Author note: Before you read it, I want to make it clear that English is not my first language, so forgive me for not using words that contemplate the reality of those who live in countries that speak English. Another point, I'm not an expert on fighter jets or how the Navy works, but I tried to bring here the best I could understand of everything. Last but not least, in this story it is strictly forbidden not to have fun! Use it as your entertainment time. That's what I'm doing here, trying to elicit reactions and feelings from you that entertain you.

Word Count: 2.185

On March 3, 1969, the US Navy established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and ensure that the handful of men and women who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world.

They succeeded.

Today, the Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. The fyers call it: Top Gun.

ᴜss ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴅ ʀ. ғᴏʀᴅ (ᴄᴠɴ-78) — ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴᴀ, ᴠᴀ

“This is War Party. Communicating with Carrier Air Wing 8,” Rooster reported on the radio.

"AJ listening. No sign of enemies", came a woman's voice.

"Contacting the cockpit." He was moving some buttons on his F/A-18F Super Hornet.

"Captain Holmes speaking. Get down, Rooster. Inspection for today is over." The captain's firm voice invaded the cabin.

“The Squads may be under the radar, sir".

“You've been flying over for almost two hours now. Your fuel is running low and there's no way for us to predict what time it will show up. If they are there, there is no intention of attack. Go back to the aircraft carrier, Rooster".

Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was flying over the Pacific Ocean on a typical Golden Warriors routine inspection. A few months ago, the Iranian squadron Squads threatened to fly over American territory and they were tasked with monitoring every step. So far, there have been no interceptions, but they were in the area.

Rooster had a feeling that that day would be D-Day. Two weeks ago, the Squads decided to fly under the radar and could get close to the coast, in Oceana Beach.

"Follow your instincts, Bradley," his mother's voice echoed in his mind. She had always known that he tended to avoid disobeying orders and to act with his heart. Bradley would rather be safe than right. Despite looking at the photo of his mother, father and himself taped to the side of the digital display, he decided which would be best.

"Affirmative. War Party returning".

He guided his squadron back over the still waters of the ocean. However, after ten minutes, he noticed a smoke signal.

"Smoke signal at nine o'clock!" He listened on his radio. "Missile at a speed of 30 km/h. Collision time: less than 45 seconds".

"Reverse maneuver!" Rooster roared.

He immediately flew the F-18 down with two more planes as two gained altitude. The missile chased the planes overhead for a few kilometers before they managed to outrun it, losing altitude and crashing into the sea.

"Object overboard." One of them said relieved.

“Don't breathe, guys. I think it's not over yet".

Rooster had barely finished speaking when a fighter appeared on his radar from the opposite direction, quickly picking up speed. He launched bait and weaponry in the enemy direction and began a cloud chase.

"Rooster, we need to fight back!" a pilot advised.

"He just wants to scare us. There is no necessity".

"He attacked us, man! What other sign do you want?"

"Let's wait. I will not put your lives in danger".

They fought off the foreign pilot who still hadn't moved a step to attack them again. Maybe he really didn't want to attack. It was just a warning for them to stop being suspicious. If they wanted to attack months earlier they would have done so.

“Rooster!" The captain's voice startled Bradley. "Get back to the aircraft carrier! You're running out of fuel!"

"Permission to attack, sir!" a pilot asked.

“Declined. He is playing with you and you are falling like ducklings in a pond. Come back now!"

"Affirmative!" they all said in unison.

On the way back to the ship, one of the pilots decided to highlight his opinion:

“We'll end up dead one day because of your fear, Rooster".

Bradley took a deep breath as he tightened his grip on the small steering wheel. He knew that caution never hurt. He had no one to turn to. He no longer had a family or a girlfriend. But his colleagues did. And that was enough for him to understand that he was always right to hold back his instincts to protect them. And somehow that led him straight to Top Gun.

ᴜss ᴀʙʀᴀʜᴀᴍ ʟɪɴᴄᴏʟɴ (ᴄᴠɴ-72) — ʟᴇᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ, ᴄᴀ

"NG contacting Ugly". Hangman and the other pilots heard it on the radio.

"Ugly on the wire. Hangman talking."

“We're in sight of an F-4 Phantom II twenty miles away.

"Understood." Hangman grinned and increased the speed of his F/A-18A/C Hornet. "Let's go!"

"Be careful. It's a Russian fossil. But it still remains Russian." Captain Davin's voice echoed through the cabins.

Hangman knew what he was dealing with. An F-4 Phantom II has not been produced since 1981. However, as it became the most produced American supersonic military aircraft in history and cemented its position as an iconic Cold War fighter plane, many countries still had it.

He didn't know that Russia still cherished that old stuff. Germany, Japan and the United States itself had their reasons for maintaining the tradition. But not Russia. If they put that old junk to fly, they knew the pilots would underestimate it.

And, as much as Hangman really was underestimating it, he knew he couldn't play with a Russian enemy. Who was he kidding? It is clear that he was better than the Russian pilots! He was Hangman, damn it!

“Listen, we have two options here," he said victoriously as he approached the jet. “You can turn around and maybe we can drink Kvass together someday. Or... you can stay where you are and we'll get you right. Please choose the second option".

"You talk too much," the pilot teased with a thick accent. "And I prefer vodka."

"Your choice."

Hangman let out another one of his huge grins and lunged towards him, not waiting for his teammates to follow. The Russian tried to defend itself with some even impressive maneuvers for an old fighter, but Hangman was light years faster.

"Hangman, wait for us!" a member of the Vigilantes demanded.

“We don't have all day, man. Leave it with me."

“Of course, as if you'd ever let us do anything." another pilot mocked.

"It's not my fault they can't keep up with me."

"One day your ego will let us down, Hangman!"

"Perhaps. But while that's here, you'll see me do this..."

Hangman reached the front of the F-4 and released the weapon, which hit the left wing. The pilot tried to stabilize, but Hangman attacked the right wing. The plane left smoke behind and soon the engines failed. There was a three-second delay between the explosion and the Russian's ejection.

“Gentlemen, this is how you slaughter a fossil."

Hangman celebrated with a hearty laugh, not minding their ironic comments and eye rolls. That was Hangman. He did what needed to be done. He had enough agility, experience and confidence to go to the front line. He knew that even though his colleagues criticized him for always taking the lead, they were grateful for staying out of harm's way.

"Now, let's have a Vodka."

Lack of sense of danger led him to Top Gun.

ᴜss ᴀʙʀᴀʜᴀᴍ ʟɪɴᴄᴏʟɴ (ᴄᴠɴ-72) — ʟᴇᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ, ᴄᴀ

"Flying over Iraq, sir. Permission to attack." Phoenix asked Commander Barr.

"Permission granted."

Phoenix and Storm were under air ban. This used pre-emptive tactical bombing and strafing against enemy targets that were not an immediate threat in order to delay, interrupt or prevent further enemy engagement of friendly forces. At that moment, Iraq was an enemy on the rise.

“Talk to me, Storm."

“I heard on the radio that the Vigilantes had a kill."

"Fuck! Their ego must now be the size of the Statue of Liberty". She complained, shaking her head. "What was the enemy?"

“A Russian F-4". Storm laughed and Phoenix followed suit. “I know, a fossil."

“I wish our scales would meet sometime. I have countless jokes in my head."

“Keep it to yourself, Phoenix." The captain's voice sounded in the cockpit. “Commander Davin briefed me on what you did last stopover. And I'm not happy at all."

That had been unprofessional and perhaps childish, but it was a lot of fun. Phoenix and Storm hacked into VFA-151's radio line as they returned from an inspection. They broadcast an entire episode of Maria do Bairro. Until that day they still had a good laugh with their desperation to hang up.

“I know we weren't the only ones laughing at this, Commander." Storm commented and he was silent for a while. They'd known him long enough to know he didn't like the Vigilantes either.

“Follow the AI."

"As you wish, sir." Phoenix nodded.

They put the feuds aside and dropped the bombs over the Iraqi terrain, making a quick dash for the nearest border. They had accomplished the mission. They had left a message to the terrorist organizations. Now they just needed to get back to the aircraft carrier.

Everything would have gone well if a missile had not chased them across the region of Iran. Phoenix managed to lose him, crashing him into a mountain. However, a fighter jet appeared amid the cloudy skies of the Middle East.

“It's a bad day for rain." Storm complained.

She turned inside the cockpit and saw that the fighter was rapidly gaining speed and preparing to attack again.

“Phoenix! Do that thing!"

"Are you sure?"

"Stop this guy's muzzle."

That was the confirmation Phoenix needed. She invested in speed and gradually increased altitude until she made a 180° turn. The F-18's nose pierced some clouds and was soon behind the enemy fighter.

“Fuck, that's horrible… I don't know how I became a pilot." Storm commented holding her belly.

“Because you're crazy enough not to give up on anything." Phoenix said with a smile. "Throw the ammo."

"Right!"

Storm took aim at the jet and unleashed the weaponry on it. That pilot had a lot of skill, she admitted. She managed to dodge them all. Phoenix remained in pursuit and on the attack until the enemy decided to retreat. He was losing altitude and they let him go. There wasn't enough reason to continue combat on an AI.

"Fast Eagle, report." The commander appeared again.

"AI performed successfully. Interception without casualties. Enemy retreated." Phoenix reported calmly.

“You did the thing."

"Yes, I did." She smiled as she confirmed. That was her trademark.

"Storm didn't throw up this time?"

"I'm completely fine, Commander!" Storm erupted half pissed half humorously. "You could try that maneuver one of these days. I know your hair would stand on end."

Commander Barr was bald.

“Don't make me punish you for disrespect. I still haven't forgotten the little joke with the 151."

He tried to keep his tone steady, but they knew he was struggling not to laugh along with them. As Commander, Barr had a reputation to uphold. A laugh could make him approachable and that couldn't happen.

“Good work, girls."

“By the AI or the prank?” Phoenix teased once more.

"Get back to the carrier right now. Barr closing."

"Affirmative" they replied in unison.

“Oh, and girls?" He spoke again after five minutes of silence. “I hope you don't piss off the Admirals at Miramar."

"What? That's it...?" Phoenix felt his heart miss beats for the first time that day.

"We fucking go to Top Gun!" Storm cheered.

Commander Barr would never confess that that pair of Black Aces pilots was his favorite. He would also never say that the reason they were chosen wasn't just their skills, which were exceptional. Phoenix wasn't afraid to use a risky maneuver and maintained control under pressure. Storm was an excellent gunner and with far-reaching sense of space.

However, the real reason they were chosen was their boldness. They feared neither danger nor authority. And, as much as he punished them, he couldn't help liking this duo. Top Gun needed their boldness.

"God help them." The commander sighed.

ғʀᴇsɴᴏ, ᴄᴀ

He watched the city below. It was still waking up, turning off its lights to utilize natural sunlight. The warm breeze hit him hard in the face and the scent of dew filled his nostrils.

So he jumped.

The wind and gravity hit him mercilessly in a drop of one hundred meters at a speed of 20 km/h. He needed this, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, flooding his entire being. The emotions at work were no longer satisfying him. It was too calm for him. He needed danger everywhere to feel alive.

He felt the rope rebound on his body and soon he was climbing again. And falling again.

He watched the fighters return to Naval Air Station Lemoore. He was supposed to be there coming back or leaving. He deserved it. He was too good.

"Fucking suspension!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

His lack of a sense of danger was not a problem for the Navy. He was the problem. His extremism led people to death. A whole team.

For that reason, he hadn't joined Top Gun.

Yet.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #hangman x phoenix #hangman top gun #glen powell #top gun phoenix #natasha trace #monica barbaro #hannix drabble #top gun fic

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w0nderw0man-reading · 2 years

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Looking for a Top Gun pairing or character?

search through my recs by the tags below

#bradley bradshaw fic rec #jake seresin fic rec #natasha trace fic rec #robert floyd fic rec #pete mitchell fic rec #tom kasanzky fic rec #mickey garcia fic rec #hangster fic rec #hannix fic rec #phoenixbob fic rec #flyodshaw ficrec #bobhangster x reader fic rec #javy machado fic rec #serechado fic rec #floydsereshow fic rec #floydsin fic rec

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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The Parent Trap 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 | Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw Imagine

Inspired by Disney’s ‘The Parent Trap’

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x novelist female!reader (romantic), Lila L/n and Caroline Bradshaw!OCs (daughters), Marilyn Brooks!OC (Bradley’s love interest), Ollie Tomas (platonic, Y/n’s bff), Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell (platonic) & Hannix (Phoenix x Hangman)

Content Warnings: fluff, light angst, profanity, pregnancy & childbirth, separated twins, second chance romance troupe, assault (reader punches a character) | female reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 18k+ this is long folks.

Premise: It was quite literally love at first sight for aspiring aviator Bradley Bradshaw and writer Y/n L/n, but the relationship ended as fast as it started. It did result in the birth of their beautiful identical twin daughters, Lila and Caroline—but even they couldn’t keep them together. An agreement was made in the divorce, Caroline would grow up with Bradley, and Lila would be raised by Y/n so the former couple never had to see each other again. What neither anticipated, however, were the sisters coming face-to-face at summer camp the year they turned 14…..and forming the ultimate parent trap to reunite their parents for a second chance at love.

Note: I rewatched ‘The Parent Trap’ the other night and gosh I remembered how much I loved that movie as a kid. I immediately got to writing this because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just to be clear I do NOT support the idea of separating children especially twins & not tell them. This is of course for fictional purposes & I do not own Disney, The Parent Trap or the TGM characters. Hope you enjoyed! (Also I envisioned Dan Levy as Ollie when I wrote this & Margot Robbie as Marilyn😂

Thank you guys so so much for 1k!!!! I’m over the moon and cannot believe that I hit 1k just as I’m celebrating 1 year of coming back to this writing account and actually keeping up with works ! 🥹🥹 I love you all and appreciate all the kind words left on my stories 🤍🤍 you guys are the best!! — Bee 🐝

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“I know you’re upset, honey,” Y/n brushed Lila’s dirty blonde hair behind her ear, “But it’s for the best. Just think before you know it’ll be the holidays and then next summer I’ll fly you out there.” All she got in response was a sad nod, the fourteen-year-old turning to look out the window. Sunny California soon turned into cloudy New York as the plane traveled from coast to coast. The entire journey the novelist thought back to the past two weeks, which did nothing to heal her aching heart. Not only did she mourn leaving behind her second daughter, but she mourned what could’ve been with the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with almost fourteen years ago.

The one who made her believe in love at first sight.

In 2006, aspiring writer Y/n L/n was on the verge of college graduation, planning to move to New York City in hope of accomplishing her dream of becoming a New York Times bestselling author.

For as long as she could imagine writing stories was her escapism from the hardships of reality. A hopeless romantic, most of her work was romance—dabbling in fantasy or historical fiction from time to time but keeping a romance troupe involved. She first started writing fanfiction on the internet when it was just starting out, focusing on some of her favorite characters which resulted in her profile becoming popular with readers. It soon progressed to her attempting to write an actual novel.

The story she envisioned to write one day was keeping her up at night, so she finally sat her ass down the summer going into her senior year and started writing. In between classes and working at the campus library at UVA, where she was studying literature and psychology, Y/n was nose deep in her Apple iBook she literally got because of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Pages upon pages, the words flew from her mind and onto the screen, forming dialogue and descriptions. She didn’t know what would come of the book, unsure if she would even send it to literary agents and publishers once completed, but for now it was purely for her entertainment.

After all, look at Stephenie Meyer. Home girl wrote a book based on a dream and it turned out to be one of the bestselling series of all time.

Graduation came in a blur. Her plan was to go to the ceremony, get her diploma, and then head back to her place to finish writing. She was only a few chapters from being done. The last thing she wrote was the big twist which could be the make or break for the main character to be with the love interest, all that was needed was the resolution.

What Y/n didn’t expect that night was going to a party, at the insistence of her friend, and meeting who she believed was the man of her dreams.

Bradley Bradshaw was everything a girl would fawn over. Handsome, funny, flirty, the life of a party, who had dreams and aspirations. While his friends clowned him for having the typical 80s porstache, they secretly envied how well he pulled it off. Which was obvious by the amount of women throwing themselves at him.

Y/n’s friend had her eyes on him that night….but little did they both know, he had eyes for Y/n.

The second she walked in he was drawn to her. “Who’s that?” He asked his buddy, Fabian, interrupting him from his flirting with a pretty redhead. Annoyed, Fabian looked in the direction of Bradley’s gaze, catching Y/n in his line of sights.

“You talkin’ about the girl in the white pantsuit? That’s I think Y/n if I remember—we had psych 101 together ages ago. She doubled majored with English and worked at the library….” he raised a brow at Bradley, who was already walking toward Y/n with a determined look on his face.

Her friend Tanya spotted him first, immediately smiling with hopeful eyes. Only it fell to a small frown when she realized he wasn’t looking at her, but Y/n.

“Hi,” the greeting has Y/n turn around, red solo cup in hand and becoming puzzled at the sight of a gorgeous man standing behind her.

“U-uh hello.”

Bradley extends a hand, “I’m Bradley.” Y/n shakes it, both flinching when a spark ignites at the contact.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n,” he beams, now aware she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you’d like to dance?”

“Oh um,” she glances at Tanya, seeing her saddened look and becomes apologetic. “I-I don’t know…”

“Just one,” he insists, “and then I promise to leave you alone afterwards.”

Y/n still appeared hesitant, not wanting to upset Tanya further, but the woman gives her a soft smile, “go on,” she takes the cup from Y/n, “I’ll be right here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. In fact,” Tanya bites her lip when she connects eyes with a guy she had a class with the previous semester. One she thought was cute and wouldn’t mind getting to know. When he gives her a wave and gestures for her to come over, Tanya blushes, “I’ll be over there talking to Grayson. Take all the time you need.” She was already on the move before Y/n could say anything else, leaving her with Bradley.

“Sooo…” he holds out a hand, nodding his head to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the house the party was at.

Heart racing, Y/n gives a small smile and takes his hand, letting him lead her to the floor. It was the first time a guy had asked her to dance at a party. Though she didn’t date or go out much in college, the times she did Y/n often got left alone because Tanya or one of their roommates/friends were hit on and she didn’t. Plus with school, work, and writing her book, a social life was pretty much nonexistent.

One dance became two, then three, and four. Before she knew it three a.m rolled by and she and Bradley had danced and talked the whole night, ending with the two sitting in the back of his Bronco with sonic Route 44s and milkshakes. Never had Y/n laughed as hard as she did that night, almost to the point of tears. There was warmth all through her veins, even after the two parted ways, only sharing a sweet kiss when he dropped her off at her apartment.

It was the closest thing she felt to love at first sight.

Maybe it truly was.

Things went by fast. Literally. So fast it was starting to make Y/n worried. Not only were the feelings getting stronger, but the terms of the relationship in general. Within a weeks they were living together, Bradley going as far as to propose to Y/n with the news of his commission into the U.S Navy.

“Marry me, Y/n,” he told her after the ceremony, the shiny Ensign ranks on the color of his uniform. “I know it sounds crazy, but I wanna share my life with you—every part of it. Till the day I die.”

Part of her was conflicted but the overwhelming love for Bradley had Y/n say yes. That weekend they were at the courthouse, exiting as Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw.

But unfortunately the love story ended before it could really begin.

A few short weeks after the wedding, Y/n found out she was pregnant while Bradley was at flight school. It terrified her as much as it excited her. They were only twenty-two, with Bradley’s Naval career just starting out and Y/n trying to get her food in the door on hers. Having double majored in literature and psychology there were many career paths she could go into. Many would involve her having to get a Masters, but the couple were already paying off student loans from undergrad that she didn’t want to have to take out anymore financial aid.

Personally Y/n wanted to write books. She had yet to finish the one from college, with plenty more ideas safely tucked in her mind. The news of her pregnancy would have to put any potential job on hold.

Bradley was beyond excited when she told him, lifting her in his arms with glee, “I’m gonna be a dad!” His excitement was what really made Y/n look forward to bringing their baby into the world. She still had worries no doubt but having Bradley, who was now known to his fellow aviators as Rooster, made it easier.

But the couple were in for a much bigger surprise.

“TWINS?!” They both shrieked in the hospital room, eyes bulging the monitor showcasing two sacs in Y/n’s womb. Rooster nearly went into cardiac arrest, the woman bursting into tears which had him hold her tightly in his arms. Lips pressed to her head as he mumbled, “We got this baby. This is exciting! Just think, they’ll be best friends forever.”

“And it looks like,” the technician moved the wand across Y/n’s stomach a bit more to get a better angle. “You are gonna be blessed with two girls, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw.” That had Y/n cry even more, Rooster shedding his own at the excitement and love that filled him.

“Girls,” he breathed in awe, kissing all over his wife’s face making her cries turn into giggles. “We’re having little girls—I’m so happy, Y/n. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this gift.”

In April of 2007 Lila and Caroline Bradshaw arrived. Identical twins who literally could not be told apart unless they were dressed differently. So the couple bought matching necklaces with gold pendants on each with the letters ‘C’ and ‘L’ for each girl. That way they could always know who was who.

Named after his mother, Caroline was a daddy’s girl even as a newborn. The only time she ever really wanted Y/n was when she was hungry, other than that little Caroline wanted to be in Bradley’s arms. She’d fall asleep in them, whine if she were in someone else’s, and make grabby hands for him when he’d come home. Caroline’s personality resembled Rooster’s, literally the life of the party whenever people were over.

Lila on the other hand was her momma’s mini me. The name came from a character in Y/n’s book. Not the protagonist, but the best friend who Y/n enjoyed writing for more than the main character. It was a name she always loved, and the moment Y/n’s eyes landed on the baby girl the name was perfect for her. Opposite of her sister, Lila was quiet and reserved. She loved to be held by Y/n and would beg for her attention. Like Caroline was a daddy’s girl, Lila was momma’s angel.

Life seemed to be good. It was good.

But then when the twins turned six months, things started to sour. They were living in Virginia with Bradley assigned to the Golden Warriors and Y/n was at home taking care of the girls. She’d get a little bit of writing done within the week but had major writer's block. Almost twice a week she and Bradley were arguing over something whether it was money, work, or the girls. They’d go to bed with their backs facing each other, Bradley leaving in the morning with little to no goodbye and when he’d return home he’d be so exhausted the two would rarely talk like they used to.

It was apparent the honeymoon stage was over. Both realizing it just wasn’t working out and even with their daughters the relationship was becoming strained.

What really ended everything was the night of the officer’s ball. A disrespectful comment was made to Y/n about wanting to be a published romance author by one of Bradley’s superiors. And he didn’t stand up for her. In fact, the man had the audacity to laugh with the men.

Heartbroken and pissed off, Y/n threw her napkin onto the table and removed herself without permission to be excused. Everyone stared with wide eyes, Bradley’s superiors watching with disapproval and making snide comments to the licensed pilot. Now he was angry, feeling humiliated by the scene and raced after his wife with an apology to the guests.

When they got outside both were feeling the heat. Spitting off words that they knew were going to fuel the fire.

“What the fuck was that, Y/n?”

“What the fuck was that?” She repeated with malice, “How fucking dare you sit there and laugh while they insult me! I’m your fucking wife, Bradley—you’re supposed to stand up for me! Instead you humiliated me!”

The entire drive home they were silent. Rooster’s knuckles were practically white with how hard he was gripping them, Y/n breathing heavily to control the anger. Not even the radio was playing. Only silence filled the void of the impeding argument that was to continue when they got home.

The door of the Bronco slamming alerted the babysitter, the teenage daughter of their neighbors, who met them outside with a smile only to frown when Bradley stormed past her. “Is everything—,” she went to ask but Y/n stopped her.

“Everything’s fine.” It was far from fine but she didn’t need to know that. Y/n removed a small wad of cash from her clutch, handing it to the girl. “This is for you. Thanks for all your help, Molly.”

When Y/n got in she checked on her girls first and then met Bradley in the bedroom to get out of the god forsaken dress she started to feel claustrophobic in. It wasn’t even fifteen seconds later before the couple were at it again. They tried to keep quiet for the sake of their daughters asleep just down the hall but nothing could stop the shouts from escaping.

“What was I supposed to do?” Rooster throws his arms out, face red. “Tell him to shut the fuck up? I have to work with him, Y/n. I see him every goddamn day—you want me to make my life miserable? Cause he’ll make sure that happens.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you fucking serious, Bradley? You’re so worried about having to do more pushups than people or get hazed than standing up for me? Your own wife?! Yeah, I wanted you to tell him to shut the fuck up—I would’ve done it if was my boss! Because you’re my husband and I wouldn’t let somebody insult you like he did me!”

He sarcastically laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his face, “You know, you’re acting like a fucking lunatic right now.”

The comment had Y/n still, eyes widening as the alarms went off in her head. She waited for him to take it back, but when he didn’t all she could do was make a pained sound, turning away from him before the tears could spill. Exiting their room, Y/n went to the closet where they stored luggage. When she returned she had her large suitcase and a baby bag.

“What are you doing?” She ignored him, starting to throw random clothes in the bag from her dresser. Rooster, came around the bed staring at her in disbelief. “Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Bradley,” she hissed, still not looking at him. “I’m fucking packing and getting the hell out this house. And I’m taking the girls with me.”

“The hell you are!” He shouts, going after her when she enters the bathroom. “You’re not taking my daughters. Especially when I don’t know where the hell you’re going.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she gathers her makeup, skincare, hair care and shower necessities. “Maybe I’ll finally go to New York like I planned before I met you.”

“And what are you gonna do there?” He challenged from the doorway. Y/n felt her hand tighten over the first item in her hand, which happened to be a hair dryer. She could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, praying to God he wouldn’t actually say what would really tear her heart in pieces.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” But Bradley was too far gone before he could stop himself.

“Finish that book? The one you’ve been writing for almost three years and have yet to finish? And then actually get it published?” He chuckled sarcastically, breaking her soul when he added, “Yeah, sure you are. How about you wake up and start thinking about reality—where you should work on getting an actual career that’s gonna support your daughters instead of living in a fairytale.”

The hairdryer left her hand with a literal battle cry, causing Bradley to jump out of the way with a curse, the object hitting the side of his arm. When it bounced on the ground before stopping just by the bed, the couple stared at each other as though they couldn’t believe what had happened. Both were breathing heavily, Y/n’s makeup smudged with tears rolling down her face.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, seeing the immediate regret in his eyes, though no words of the sort followed. Y/n brought a hand up, turning away from him when he said her name. “Fuck you, Bradley.” She heard him leave, the door closing behind him allowing her to succumb to her emotions. The rest of the time she packed her things Y/n fought back sobs. She wouldn’t let him see her like that. That he had hurt her beyond what she could’ve imagined.

The way he took her dream and basically slapped her in the face with it. He knew she was dealing with writer’s block and had trouble focusing on the ending with having to take care of their girls. And not to mention she gave up her pursuits to follow him.

No more.

Zipping up her suitcases, Y/n picked up the wedding photo of her and Bradley. There were not many photos of them printed out and none were hung on the walls just because they would have to move with his job, but the two photos they did have were of their little courthouse wedding and the day the twins were born.

Tears rolling down her cheek, Y/n removed the photo from the frame and tore it down the middle before doing the same with the one of them and the girls. The piece with Bradley looking down at her in the wedding and the one of him holding Lila were folded and placed in her purse, leaving the one of her in her wedding dress and the one holding Caroline. She secretly put them in the drawer of his nightstand, letting him decide what he plans to do with them once she’s gone.

She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but it was for the best in order for them to not have to deal with a nasty custody dispute. Already she could feel a bit of her heart missing. The piece reserved for Caroline.

After quietly packing Lila’s things, Y/n rolled her suitcases down the hall and placed the baby bag on top. Rooster was in the kitchen drinking a beer, ignoring when she came into the living room to gather all the things she had there.

“I have an offer,” she approached when she was done, keeping her gaze on the ground. Y/n feared she wouldn’t be able to say it if she looked into his eyes.

“What,” his voice was monotone, evident he was tired and wanting to get whatever argument out of the way so they could move on.

“I can’t stay here,” she told him, noticing him stiffening in the corner of her eye. “I just can’t, Bradley. We both know this was a long time coming and tonight was just the nail in the coffin. We’re not a good fit—we both want different things. And I can’t even look at you without wanting to scream.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, “I never want to see you again after tonight…so I don’t wanna have to go through a custody battle with you.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to work out?” She could hear the heartbreak in his tone, getting tight with each word like he would explode if she took both girls.

Y/n let out a tired sigh, squeezing her eyes shut, “we both know Caroline prefers you, and Lila prefers me.” She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t she knew he silently agreed. The next words that left her set in stone the next decade in a half of her life, “So I’ll take Lila with me and you raise Caroline. That way they have one of us and we never have to see each other again.” Again Bradley doesn't respond so Y/n softly says, “I’ll call a lawyer in the morning. For now I’m sleeping in the girls room.”

‘Come after me,’ she silently thought, a part of her hoping he would and convince her she was wrong and they could work this out.

‘Go after her,’ his brain screamed at him, not wanting to let go of the woman of his dreams.

But he stayed where he stood.

Twelve hours later the couple sat in the office of a divorce lawyer with papers drawn up indicating Y/n would have custody of Lila, retaining her maiden name and legally changing the girl’s to L/n, and Bradley would have custody of Caroline. They removed their rings, Y/n wiping away a tear when she did, before the two returned to the home to gather Y/n’s things.

Once the car was packed Y/n cradled Caroline while Bradley held Lila, the two facing away from each other to not show the other their emotion.

“I love you so much, sweet girl,” she whispered against Caroline’s tiny head, careful to not let her tears drop on her. Kissing her crown, Y/n softly said, “Our paths will cross again one day. But until then, I hope you have the best life and be a good girl for your daddy. You’ll always be my Caroline, my sweet girl.”

A few yards away, Bradley was saying his own words of love to Lila. “Promise me you won't give your momma too much trouble, Lila darlin’. You two take care of each other,” he kisses her forehead, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’ll see you again one day. I love you darlin’. You’ll always have a piece of me.”

The former couple barely glanced at each other or spoke a word the entire time Bradley was securing Lila in her car seat and Y/n reluctantly handing Caroline over. Her heart skipped, clenching at the same time Bradley surprised her by giving a soft kiss to her forehead, muttering for her to have a safe trip. Y/n only nodded, moving to the driver's seat and backing out of the driveway before pulling onto the road. Y/n finally allowed the tears to fall when she exited the gate for the last time.

When she got to her parents house roughly five hours later Y/n wanted to just go to sleep but her mind wouldn’t let her.

No, in fact, it wanted her to write.

The final piece of the book that had been nagging her for years finally played in her head. Everything from the dialogue to the final scene.

While her parents spent time with Lila, both of whom voiced their unhappiness with her decision to leave behind Caroline, Y/n’s eyes were focused on the screen in front of her. The only time she took breaks was to have dinner, use the bathroom, have downtime with Lila before putting her to bed, and share a glass of wine with her mother. Other than that, Y/n was writing until the early hours of the morning—going as far as to make edits to earlier parts of the book and change things she felt were unnecessary.

By the time the clock hit 4 am, Y/n was in need of a melatonin and 8 hours of sleep. But she was done. Done with the book she had spent so much time trying to get done. It was as though leaving Bradley was the awakening she needed to get it finished.

How fucking sad when one thinks about it.

That mid-morning, after popping a melatonin and sleeping for a few hours before having to tend to Lila, Y/n’s parents were visibly shocked by the difference in her behavior from the previous day. Of course Y/n was still deeply saddened by everything and they could tell it was affecting her, but there was also a sense of hope in her eyes. When asked about it all Y/n responded was, “I finished the book.”

Between looking for small two bedroom apartments in New York and part-time jobs, Y/n edited her book. For about six months she lived with parents, celebrating Lila’s first birthday where Y/n cried herself to sleep at not being able to do the same to Caroline. But then again, she had no one to blame but herself.

The break of a lifetime came a week after Lila’s birthday when Y/n finally got a response from one of five literary agents she had sent her inquiry to. “Hello Ms. L/n, Thank you for sending your inquiry. I’ve read your submission and am intrigued about your book. Please send me a copy of your full manuscript either through my email or a printed version to the address I have listed below. I’m interested to see what you have written and hope you get back to me soon. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Over the moon, Y/n sent a printed copy to Yolanda the next day. Nerves filled her with what the agent would think and if she would have her as a client. After researching for weeks on literary agents, Yolanda Richards was one of the best in the romance genre, with multiple NYT bestsellers under her name plus success at getting movie deals for the books. If Y/n became one of her clients it would be a dream come true.

The email came the following Friday: “Y/n, I am very pleased with your work and thoroughly enjoyed your story. Everything about it was captivating from start to finish. I would love to have you as a partner by representing you in getting your book published and on the market. Please give me a call or email me so we can set up an in-person meeting as soon as possible. I hope you accept my offer and I look forward to possibly working with you. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Almost 13 years later……Summer of 2021

Caroline’s heart was racing. She’d never been so nervous in her entire life than when the plane approached the New York skyline, the first time her hazel eyes had ever witnessed it. Even when she and her father were living in Virginia he seemed to avoid the city like the plague. Always insisting they go somewhere else for a vacation whenever she begged.

Now here she was at JFK airport about to meet the woman she dreamed of knowing all her life.

The whole journey Caroline thought back to the eight weeks of summer camp she’d just experienced. It was like fate had decided to work its magic on the third day when she came face-to-face with a girl who looked exactly like her. Though it’s rumored everyone has at least seven doppelgängers in their lifetime scattered across the globe, something about Lila L/n was different than a typical look-a-like. They were too alike physically. Dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes and standing tall at 5’5, the two were a carbon copy of one another with the exception of Lila having longer hair and bangs. “Actual twins” their campmates would say, but were complete opposites in terms of personality.

For example, Caroline dressed like she was going to the beach no matter the weather and had a knack for old music whereas Lila had more sweaters than t-shirts in her suitcase. Then Lila had an expanded vocabulary like she always was reading a poem in a fancy New York accent yet Caroline could barely tell the difference between there, their, and they’re. Lastly, Caroline was laid back and the extroverted jokester of the camp compared to Lila’s reserved, introverted, goodie-two-shoes nature.

Their rivalry was bound from the start. The end of the first week had the two already pissing off the counselors with the pranks against each other and their friend groups. Halfway through the camp duration was when the counselors had enough and placed them in the isolation cabin to settle their differences.

It was in the isolation cabin where suspicions became realizations.

First it started when both admitted to having a peanut allergy and their favorite food was chicken Alfredo pasta. They both loved romantic comedies and playing piano, neither a fan of licorice or dill pickles.

Finally feeling a friendship starting, Caroline complimented Lila’s necklace, who said it was a gift to her on the day she was born and had her initial on the pendant. Voicing the same, Caroline showed her own necklace with the same pendant only with a ‘C’ on it instead of ‘L’. That’s when Lila asked what day Caroline was born, both confirming they had the same birthday of April 21st, 2007.

Heart pumping with an feeling she couldn’t explain, Caroline revealed she was raised by her dad, who was a Navy fighter pilot and they were currently living in San Diego. “It’s only ever been me and him. He said he and my mom split when I was six months old.”

“No way,” Lila sat up in her bed, feeling the same emotion as Caroline. “I was raised by my mom. We moved to New York when I was a year old and have been there ever since. She told me when I was ten she and my dad divorced when I was six months old and he was in the Navy.”

Pushing aside her bag of hot Cheetos, Caroline began asking a series of questions. “My dad never said much about my mom, but at least once a year would give me some details of what she was like when I begged him. He said one year she had dreams of becoming a writer. What does your mom do?”

Lila’s eyes widened, “She’s an author—she’s written over ten romance novels.”

“Did your mom ever tell you how she and your dad met?”

“They met in college—at a graduation party to be exact. He asked her to dance.”

By now Caroline was gripping her hair, “Did they go to sonic afterwards where they had milkshakes and—.”

“Route 44s,” Lila finished, covering her mouth slightly. The reaction had Caroline racing to her desk to rummage through the drawer. When she faced Lila again, she was holding something to her chest.

“When my parents divorced my mom left behind two ripped photographs. One is of her holding me as a baby, the other is of her wedding day with my dad. They make up halves to a photo—but I‘ve never seen the rest. My dad doesn’t even know I have them.”

Gasping, Lila goes to her own desk and takes out a folder. Flipping through pages she gathers the two images in her own hands before turning back to the teenager. “These are the only photos I have of my dad. Like you, one is of him holding me in the hospital, the other is him in his uniform from the day he married my mom. They were ripped down the middle from the original photo.”

As though they read each other’s mind, the two started walking toward each other, already tearing up at the possibility that what they suspected was true. “On the count of three,” Lila softly said, “we show each other. Okay?”

“Okay,” Caroline agreed with a nod. They started to count down.

“One,” Lila took a step forward.

“Two,” Caroline echoed, mirroring her movement.

“Three!” Gasps left both girls when they extended their arms, each holding a half of the photograph, and slowly put them together. One showed Y/n and Bradley on their wedding day, smiling at each other looking as though they were the happiest people on earth, the other of them holding their daughters. Caroline in Y/n’s arms, and Lila in Bradley’s.

“That’s my dad!” Caroline beamed, in disbelief at the sight before her. There her father was with the beautiful woman she dreamed of meeting. Her mother.

“That’s my mom,” Lila sniffed, the teen overcome with emotion. Once they gathered themself over the initial shock they both couldn’t help but shout, “We’re twin sisters!!” Embracing in a hug filled with glee and laughter.

The idea that came to their head moments later was crazy, but after talking and voicing how they want to meet the other’s parents, the decision was made. Caroline and Lila would switch places. And they were gonna get their parents back together.

Lila told Caroline how their mom was a hopeless romantic at heart despite not having a long term relationship since their dad. The same was for Bradley apparently, Caroline confessing he only had maybe three serious girlfriends but the relationships ended because they couldn’t handle the lifestyle he was in. Or the fact he was a single father.

For the next four weeks the twins learned all about the other’s life and what to expect. “Mom wrote her first book in college around the time she met dad, but she didn’t get it finished until after they divorced. Since then she’s written ten novels—including a trilogy about to be adapted into a movie series and is currently working on a sequel to her debut book that her supporters have been begging for her to write for years. Most of her inspiration comes from what she hopes to experience,” Lila pauses to make a face, “Now that I think about it actually, her second book almost resembles her love story with dad….it’s the only one without a happy ending.” That had the twins frown, feeling more determined with their mission of getting their parents back together.

“This is the Dagger Squad,” Caroline showed Lila the pictures on her phone when the counselors gave them back for the weekend. “My dad went on a special mission two years ago before the pandemic and became friends with the people he did it with. Phoenix,” she points to the pretty brunette pilot, “well Natasha, I’ve known her since I was a baby. She and her husband have been friends with dad since flight school. And this is Maverick,” she scrolls to the next picture of her with a middle aged man in a flight suit, “He’s basically like our surrogate grandpa since dad’s parents passed away a long time ago. They were estranged for some time but became friends again after the mission.”

Lila explained the layout of their mother’s Manhattan home where they along with Y/n’s parents lived. “We always sit down to eat in the dining room as a way to have family time since mom is usually in her office writing or in meetings,” Lila explained before naming off the people in the photographs she had laid out in front of Caroline. “This is Ollie, mom’s best friend and writes romantic thrillers—he was our roommate when we first moved to New York and is often at the house more than his own. Yolanda is her literary agent who is in charge of selling mom’s books when she’s completed them and most recently got a movie deal on mom’s best selling trilogy. I call our grandmother ‘Gran,’ and our grandfather, ‘grandpa’.”

Both girls were the subject of a slight makeover with Lila having to cut her hair shorter, and Caroline getting bangs. When that happened they really were identical twins with the campmates not knowing who was who. Caroline practiced mimicking Lila’s NY accent and taught her the words to ‘Great Balls of Fire.’

“This is ridiculous,” Caroline complained when she was unable to whistle like Lila. “Is this really necessary?”

“Every teenager in New York has had to hail a cab at some point. If Mom is on the phone then I have to be the one to catch the cab—and whistling is gonna get you one more than just waving like an idiot in the middle of the street.”

Last thing to do was exchange plane tickets. Lila to SAN and Caroline to JFK.

They hugged each other goodbye, wishing the other good luck and not to forget certain things. They mostly had everything written down so they were confident they could get everything memorized by heart before they landed at their respective destinations. Caroline felt odd having to wear a long sleeve in July, but the weather for New York was cloudy with cool temperatures so she felt safer wearing the outfit Lila had picked out. She wasn’t the only odd ball, Lila was having to get used to wearing the tank top and pink Hawaiian shirt with shorts—something she never thought she’d ever wear.

They even had to exchange phones considering Lila had the lilac iPhone 12 Pro Max and Caroline had her trusty red iPhone 7 Plus. “Hey it works fine,” she defended, “until I either crack it beyond repair or it just doesn’t turn on one day then I will keep this till the end of time. So be careful with it.”

Promising to text everyday and call at least twice a week, the girls went on their way. Caroline fidgeted in her first class seat, trying to go over her notes to pass the time since it would only be a few hours for her flight compared to Lila’s cross country trip. But when the New York skyline filled her vision, the teenager was in awe.

If she wasn’t so excited she would’ve vomited from the anxiety consuming her. With her backpack on her shoulders and duffle bag in her hands, Caroline did her best to navigate through JFK until she reached the baggage claim. There her stomach did flips at the sight of Ollie waving frantically at her.

“Lila bean! Over here!” Grinning wide, she raced over to the man and was lifted into his arms. “Finally you’re back! Ugh you have no idea how crazy it’s been without you,” he set her down, making movements with his hand, “I’ve had no one to discuss the latest season of Bachelor in Paradise with because your mom’s been so nose deep in her work the whole summer—I’ve been trying to get her thoughts on if my next book should be a sexy twist on the show where every contestant has a dirty secret and one of them is a literal serial killer but she won’t budge from that computer. It’s been the only thing to distract her from being sad with you not being there—and oh my goodness,” he suddenly gasped, making her flinch, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh u-uh,” she stuttered nervously, praying her accent was believable. “A girl from camp cut it. I wanted to try something new. Do you like it?”

“You look fabulous,” he complimented, letting his finger run across the ends of her hair. “It suits more than I thought—you’ve always preferred it long.”

“Well I thought with me entering high school next month I was due for a change.”

Ollie gave her a look once over with an approving nod, “I dig it. Now c’mon—let’s get your bag and head out before this place gets too chaotic for my liking. Plus your mom has been texting me every ten minutes wanting to know if you’ve landed and it’s becoming exhausting.”

Caroline had to hold back cheering in victory when she successfully whistled, catching the attention of a cab driver for the pair. The drive there she was bouncing her knee, taking in the city causing Ollie to look at her confused, “My goodness, eight weeks you’re gone and it’s like you’ve never seen the city before. I promise you it’s the same as you left it.”

The teenager couldn’t help but mentally laugh at the comment, ‘little do you know….’

Arriving in Manhattan Caroline turned giddy. Before Ollie could stop her she was out of the cab with her backpack and duffle, leaving him to get her luggage as she hauled up the stairs to the three story townhouse. The door was unlocked and so she took a deep breath before pushing it open only to gasp by the beautiful interior of the home with a spiral staircase leading to the higher levels.

Setting aside her things, Caroline began to explore the ground level in hopes to find her mother or grandparents. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, the teen entering what appeared to be a study with various bookshelves and framed photographs on the walls. A man was standing up with his back toward her, appearing to look for something particular in his bookshelf.

Caroline’s heart skipped at the realization it was her grandfather. “Hi, grandpa,” she exhaled, causing the man to spin around. Immediately he was in delight.

“Lila! You’re back!” She met him in the middle as he came around the desk, the two embracing. “And you cut your hair, my gosh! You look so different—but great!”

Taking in his scent, the older man looked at her confused before she said, “Sorry, I just missed the smell of your peppermint aroma at camp.” He laughed lightly, rubbing her back with his hand.

“Oh honey we all missed you too.”

“What’s all the commotion?” A female voice entered the picture, Caroline grinning when her eyes met her grandmother’s. The older woman gasped before her own smile took over, “Oh Lila!”

“Gran!” She raced over to her, meeting her in a hug. “I missed you!” The two held each other for a moment, her gran voicing the same and complimenting her new look just as her grandfather did.

Then Caroline heard her. “Lila darling?”

Freezing against her gran, Caroline felt her heart race. Slowly removing herself she hesitantly went to the middle of the foyer. Just as she appeared in the photographs, Y/n was as beautiful as Caroline pictured her to be. Dressed in a cashmere sweater dress, she looked radiant as the light from the window hit her. Hazel eyes shining from unshed tears, Caroline whispered in awe, “Mom.”

“You’re back!”

Just like in a movie it all felt like slow motion as Caroline ran up the stairs while Y/n descended, meeting halfway in a tearful embrace. The hug lingered with Caroline never wanting to let go, a faint sob escaping from the back of her throat and the tears falling down her cheeks—no doubt ruining the mascara she wore. But the teen didn't care. Not when she was in the arms of her mother at last.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whimpered when they pulled away, Y/n moving to brush a finger off her cheeks.

“And I can’t believe it’s you,” the writer chuckled, letting her eyes run over her daughter she believed to be the one she raised. “Look at you, your hair is so short!”

“A girl cut it at camp for me—do you like it?”

“I love it!” Y/n assured with a smile, “You look amazing—I’m surprised that’s all. And..” Y/n tilted her head a bit, “are you wearing mascara?”

“Oh yeah,” Caroline sniffed, moving to swipe under her eyes. She forgot already that Lila wasn’t into makeup like her. “A friend I made at camp wanted to see how my eyelashes looked with it since they’re so long. I forgot I had it on.”

“Oh no worries, honey. I don’t mind you wearing it if that’s what you’d like.”

“N-no it’s okay. I don’t really think it’s my thing, m-mom,” Caroline felt another wave of emotion at saying the word ‘mom,’ making Y/n frown with concern.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” Caroline’s voice cracked. “I’m just so happy. I missed you so much.” Y/n awed, pulling her daughter into another hug.

“Oh honey I missed you too. It almost feels like it’s been forever.”

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut as she nuzzled against Y/n’s shoulder, “you have no idea.”

Two weeks went by of the twins living their dream. Caroline explored New York City by accompanying Y/n to her meetings with Yolanda and watching Bachelor in Paradise to not have Ollie suspicious of her. Slight worry came with how her grandfather seemed to let his eyes linger on her whenever she said something unlike what Lila would say. Three thousand miles away Lila was having difficulty being so social with their father’s friend group—her introverted self needed to get away in order to recharge at times which had Phoenix and Hangman start to question her.

“Did the social butterfly in you burn out at camp, little chicken?” Jake teased one day, “I’ve never seen you this quiet in a single week.”

Lila put on her best face, hoping he wouldn’t see right through it, “You would not believe how exhausting it was dealing with so many people on a daily basis. There were times where I dreaded going to activities and preferred staying in my cabin. They were rambunctious I tell you.” Her choice of words had Natasha eye her, bidding a look to her husband, moving closer to whisper, “Did she just use the word rambunctious?”

It seemed like everyone but their parents were beginning to catch on. The first to figure out were Nat and Jake when Bradley confessed to his daughter, who he believed was Caroline, that he was planning on proposing to his current girlfriend Marilyn Brooks. Caroline had warned Lila that their father was seeing Marilyn, but believed it wouldn’t last till the end of summer. Upset and panicked on what to do, the teenager bursted outside of the Hard Deck and began ranting to herself, accent slipping out and unaware the couple were there the whole time.

“You got something to share with the class, Care Bear?” Nat approached, head tilted down at the teenager who’d gone pale. “Because you seem to be in distress.”

“Phee, Jake,” Lila placed a hand on her chest to calm her breathing, “You both gave me a fright.”

“We gave you a fright?” Jake repeated in confusion. Never had Caroline used expressions like that before, making them more confused.

“Y-you scared me. I-I didn’t know you two were out here.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, Caroline?” Natasha crossed her arms. “Because ever since you came home….you’ve been acting odd. Your appetite’s changed, you’re not as social, Charlie doesn’t want to come near you anymore” she listed off her fingers, Charlie referring to Nat and Jake’s dog who adores Caroline. “And you use these big words now.”

“And just now it sounded like you were straight from New York or something,” Jake added, “And not in the way when you impersonate it on Head’s Up, it was like it was natural for you.”

“Jake, Nat….” Lila thought rapidly to deflect. “I changed a lot over summer—my friend’s from there and helped me perfect it.”

“Alright,” Jake shrugged, “Man if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were—.” Nat slapped his arm, eyes wide with a knowing look causing him to shut up. Jake gave a tight smile to the teen, “Ignore me, I’m just being stupid.”

“Almost as if I were who?”

Natasha shook her head, “No one, Care Bear. Forget we said anything.” As the two went to go back inside, they were stunned by what the girl said next.

“Almost as if I were….Lila?”

Chills appeared on their arms, the couple slowly turning to face her again with eyes full of shock. Both were thinking the same thing: did Rooster finally tell her?

“Y-you know about Lila?” Nat whispered.

The confession rolled off her tongue, “I am Lila.”

Jake dropped his bottle of beer, the glass shattering against the wood while Nat’s hand flew to her mouth. Just as they were about to spit off the millions of questions in their head, Rooster appeared looking relieved to find the teen. “There you are, Care. Why’d you run off like that—I needed to talk to you.” Noticing the way his friends were looking as though they wanted to cry, Rooster then said, “Guys….why are you staring at her like that?”

Seeing Lila shake her head, begging them not to say anything, the two apologized and excused themselves. Later that night Lila asked to stay at their house after getting into an argument with her father about him getting engaged, where she then explained everything after a tearful reunion considering the couple hadn’t seen her since she was a baby.

“Caroline is in New York with our mom,” the confession had the two nearly faint. “We switched places at camp, which I cannot believe fate actually brought us together that way—and we’re hoping to get our parents back together because I know my mom still loves him despite all these years they’ve been separated. But now he’s engaged to that wretched woman who I know is gonna ruin his life. I-I have to call her and get them here now!”

Phoenix gently calmed the girl down, “Lila, it’s almost midnight over there. Call her tomorrow and then we’ll figure something out together.”

The call to Caroline is what got her found out by their grandfather. She was sitting at a picnic table just down the road after jumping from her seat at the dinner table. Unbeknownst to Caroline, her grandfather had followed her.

“I thought you said they would be broken up by the time I got back!” Lila shouted on the other end of the phone.

“Well that was the hope,” Caroline voiced back, “Usually he’s with them for a few months to a year—but Marilyn’s just…ugh I can’t even explain so it surprises me she’s lasted this long.”

“Well now she’s looking to become our stepmom! You have to get mom here to San Diego so we can stop them!”

“No way I’ve barely had time with her, Lila,” Caroline argued. For five minutes the twins go back and forth before ultimately hanging up. When Caroline rose from the bench she bumped into the gentleman behind her, “Oh I’m sorry, sir.” The man turned around, the familiar face staring back causing her stomach to drop. “Oh boy.”

“Oh boy,” he repeated, tsking. “How about we take a walk while the fresh air is nice?” Coming clean, Caroline told her grandfather everything from the day she arrived at camp to the day she left as Lila. Thankfully he wasn’t angry, in fact the man was overjoyed at the news.

Now it was time to come clean to the rest of the family.

The next morning Caroline was pacing in front of Y/n’s office before knocking on the door and waited for her to respond. “Come in.” Looking over the edge of her computer, the woman smiled at her daughter. “Hey darlin’, I’m almost done with this paragraph. What do you say about us going to that gyro place you like for lunch?”

“Mom,” Caroline fidgeted with her fingers. “I need to talk to you.” When Y/n continued to type, she said with an edge in her voice, “Right now. Please.”

Taken aback by the tone, Y/n saved the document and closed out before standing from her chair. “What is it, Lila?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” seeing her confusion, Caroline’s eyes glistened. “Lila.”

“Yessss? That’s the name I gave you the day you were born.”

“N-no!” Caroline finally snapped. “That’s not the one you gave me, mom.” That had Y/n puzzled, looking at her daughter with wide eyes. Lip quivering, the teen finally came clean, unable to hold it any longer. “I’m not Lila.”

At first Y/n didn’t seem to react, until a soft gasp left her as the look of absolute shock took over her expression. Her eyes filled with water, hands beginning to shake, “You’re…You’re Caroline?”

“Yes,” she nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You and dad sent Lila and I to the same camp. We met there and….well I just really wanted to meet you a-and Lila really wanted to meet dad and please don’t be angry with us, I—.” The teenager was cut off by the sob Y/n let out as she took her in her arms.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Y/n cried, letting 13 years of pent up regret, sadness, and shame finally release. “Oh Caroline.” The teen’s arms wrapped around her waist, nuzzling her face into her chest as her own tears spilled. Finally it felt like a weight had been lifted off both their shoulders. Mother and daughter reunited. “I can’t believe It’s actually you—my sweet girl.”

A tearful reunion even had Ollie emotional, the author being consoled by Y/n’s father in the doorway along with her mother. “I-I’ve never been so happy in my life. O-oh my gosh this is the best day ever!” As he cried, Y/n’s father gave her a heartfelt look before gently closing the door to allow them some privacy.

“No offense, mom—well actually slight offense,” Caroline said after explaining the situation of why the twins switched places—keeping out the fact they were planning to reunite the adults in hopes of the two getting back together. “But this whole thing was not it. I mean, c’mon, were you ever gonna tell us?”

Y/n looked deeply ashamed, wiping away at her face constantly, “I know it was wrong of us. Believe me I’ve regretted it every second since the day I left. Keeping you two apart was the worst thing we did and I hope you girls can forgive us. I let my personal issues with your father get in the way—a-and I should've never left you behind. You have every right to be angry,” Y/n paused to grab a tissue. “I honestly hoped to tell you two one day—possibly when you two were sixteen, but then I just didn’t know how to approach that after keeping it hidden so long.”

Caroline took it all in, asking the next question. “So what now?”

Y/n sighed, “Well legally you’re supposed to be with your father, and Lila with me. So we’ve gotta get you back to him. Then we go from there,” she placed her hands on Caroline’s shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to her head, “But I promise you no more secrets. And I’m not letting you go again, honey. We’ll get everything under control.”

Packing for California had Y/n a damn mess. She didn’t know what to wear and went through several options before settling on a fashionable white dress that would do well with the California heat. The sight of her was quite entertaining for Ollie, but was doing his best to offer moral support because she was really starting to lose it.

“What the hell am I supposed to say when I see him?” Y/n waved her free hand. She had sunglasses on her face and curlers in her hair with a glass of wine in one hand as she threw random stuff into a suitcase. “It’s been nearly thirteen years, Ollie. And our last day married was anything but a good parting! I-I mean I know nothing about him except from what Caroline has told me.” A warm feeling flared in her chest. “She says he’s still got that damn 80s stache—gosh what that did to me when I was with him. Only he could make a girl weak in the knees sporting something most men look horrid in.”

“Sounds like he could still make you weak in the knees, babe,” the comment resulted in a glare. “Look, you’re thinking too much alright? Just take a breather and think about the girls. This is for them at the end of the day.”

“I know,” Y/n rubbed her face, downing the last bit of wine in her glass. “Ollie, darling, I can’t go about this on my own. Will you—.”

“Accompany you to sunny California to keep you sane as you embark on this journey of reuniting with your former sexy pilot lover?” At her nod he winks and pulls out his phone showcasing his boarding pass. “Already got it booked, babe. Maybe I’ll find my own Romeo on this trip. Lord knows I have a thing for surfers and skaters—but there's a difference between New York skaters and California ones. I should know…I’ve dated both.”

When asked if she had talked with her father, Caroline subtly lied, “Oh yeah I just got off with him. Says they have our rooms reserved at the Hilton Resort in Palm Springs. He’s excited to see you.”

“He is?” Y/n raises a brow, not finding it believable, and trying to contain the flutter in her stomach. “Well, we should be on the way then. Sweetie, could you check us into our flights while I help Ollie pack the Uber?”

The man trailed after Caroline with a cheeky look, whispering under his breath so only she could hear, “liar, liar, pants on fire.” Caroline spun around to see her mom was turned the other way, bringing a finger to her lips with a wink, “shuuuush!”

When Lila brought the idea up for her and Rooster to go to Palm Springs for the weekend, the plan did not include bringing Marilyn and her parents. Thankfully Phoenix, Hangman, and Charlie tagged along too. The couple was in on the plan and only ones to know besides Lila that Y/n was just a few short hours away from arriving. They timed it so when she and Caroline landed at the airport, they’d already be checked in and waiting at the resort.

“Be warned,” the text from Caroline appeared on the phone. “Mom is DRUNK. She had two cocktails on the plane and had us stop at a liquor store to get some mini airplane bottles.”

“Oh no,” Lila moaned, causing Nat and Jake to look at her in question while Rooster was busy meeting Marilyn’s parents for the first time. She showed them the text, both reacting the same, “This is gonna be interesting.”

Charlie started to whimper, picking up a familiar scent and pulling Lila across the lobby with the couple chasing after them. Meanwhile in the elevator, Y/n remembered she left her purse on the counter. “Crap, I forgot my bag,” she giggled, stopping the closing door and moving as fast as her heels and disoriented state could take her. While she was busy gathering her lost item, Lila came around the corner with Charlie, the dog barking at the sight of Caroline in the elevator.

“Charlie!” She squealed, the animal bolting from Lila’s grasp and into the elevator before it could close. The twins connected eyes just as the door shut, Lila mentally cursing though she couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in her.

“Oh shit,” Jake mumbled with wide eyes, pulling Natasha to the side right when Y/n approached.

“Mom!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me, sweet girl, I can find the room by myself,” Lila literally had to step away from her Y/n, who had yet to realize it was Lila giving the twins decided on wearing similar outfits. She reeked of alcohol. Caroline wasn’t kidding when she warned her their mother was drunk off her ass. Besides the smell and her slight slurring words, Y/n was having trouble keeping her eyes open, “You go on up, okay? I’m gonna check out the bar real quick—have a glass of water while I’m at it.” As Y/n went to walk away she turned around with a tilt of her head, “I like that jacket by the way—were you wearing that on the plane?”

“Mom, watch out!” Lila shouted as Nat gasped with her when Y/n nearly collided with the bellboy.

“Oh goodness,” was all the author had to say, giving an embarrassed glance to her daughter before turning the corner away from their sights. Jake couldn't help but laugh, Nat holding back her own as she and Lila stared at each other in disbelief.

“The one time she should be sober and she’s completely wasted!” Lila exclaimed with a laugh at the end. “I’ve only ever seen her have one glass of wine at dinner—now she’s looking to run the bar dry.”

Phoenix shook her head with a smile, “Yeah well let her have her fun before all hell breaks loose.” Guiding Lila to the elevator, they all head to the floor where their rooms were.

Meanwhile Rooster and Marilyn had the same idea.

Attached to his arm, the woman was on a rant about what she thought was best for the lavish wedding she desired. Rooster just smiled and nodded, allowing the blonde to have creative control since he had no idea what to say. His first wedding was at a courthouse, nothing extravagant.

“Alone at last,” She hummed in relief, lips going to his neck as she giggled while his arms went around her waist. Bradley mirrored her expression, only it soon went to one of absolute shock when his gaze landed on the woman he never thought he’d see again.

Y/n was in front of him, looking like an angel in white as she stopped short in front of the elevator when they locked eyes. A hesitant smile appeared on her lips, hand coming up to wave as Bradley started to lean away from Marilyn as the doors shut, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

But no, his ex-wife was really there.

“Bradley?” Y/n heard the blonde’s voice just as the doors closed, the last thing she saw could best be described was her ex-husband looking at her like she was an actual ghost. Like he didn’t expect her to be there at all.

That put the pieces together.

“Caroline Bradshaw!” Y/n strutted down the hallway, halting when the doors of both rooms opened and the girls appeared before her. With the two sporting similar looks and the same haircut it was difficult to tell who was who. A headache was forming in Y/n’s head from the alcohol, the woman moaning, “Please don’t do this—I-I’m already seeing double.” The teen on her left smiled.

“It’s me, Mom. Lila.”

“Oh darlin’!” the author exclaimed, moving to hug her daughter and place a kiss on her head. “You look wonderful. My goodness this is the happiest day of my life,” she opened her arm to bring Caroline into the hug. “Both of my girls!” Then Y/n remembered what brought her to the floor, “Not to ruin the happy moment, but I’d really appreciate it if you explained why you blindsided me.”

All of a sudden Nat and Jake appeared from the suite Lila was in. “Hi,” Nat glanced down the hall before smiling at the author. “Sorry to break this up, but might I suggest we move this discussion inside.” Coming over to the doorway of Caroline’s room, the two extended an arm to the trio. The girls entered first, and as Y/n followed behind Nat added, “Hi, you probably don’t remember us--.”

“Natasha! Jake!” Both were given a friendly kiss to the cheek, Y/n pleased to see them again after so many years. They looked at each other with a smirk when she entered the suite, “I knew I always liked her.”

Once inside Y/n threw her bag onto the armchair, “Spill it!” She pointed to her daughters sitting on the ottoman, beginning to pace in front of the couch. “Though I’m not sure which one of you told me your father knew I was arriving today, I can assure you that the man I just saw in the lobby had no clue his ex-wife would be in the same state—let alone the same hotel.”

The twins looked at each other, Lila frowning, “You saw dad?”

“Yes I did,” the woman signed, dropping onto the couch. “And gosh if I didn’t know any better he lost his spray tan because of how pale he went at the sight of me. Like I was Casper the not-so-friendly ghost.” Wincing, the author requested a cold compress for her head, Lila jumping up to get one for her. “I’ve wondered for so many years what it would be like to see your father again, but him wrapped around another woman’s arms while I stood there waving like an idiot was not what I had in mind.”

At that moment Ollie struts in with sunglasses on his face and shirt opened to reveal his chest, whistling before stopping short at the sight of his ashen best friend. “You look horrendous.”

“Thanks, Ollie,” she muttered sarcastically.”

“Why the lone face, babe?” He bids a glance to the couple entering the picture, mentally thinking how hot they looked together after Y/n introduces them all.

“I’m currently investigating why my daughters felt the need to leave out the fact their father had no idea I was coming today.”

“Oh,” his eyes went wide, slowly starting to back away along with Nat and Jake, both wearing the same expression as him. “Well in that case imma just head to the pool.”

“We’ll join you—that sounds like a great idea,” Nat says in a rush, the three turning to run but were stopped short by Y/n’s, “Hold on a second!” They slowly turn back around, biting their lips.

“Are you all keeping something from me?” Y/n looks between the three before her attention is directed to Lila’s soft voice.

“Mom, dad’s engaged…...” The news has Y/n slowly fall back to the couch, her shoulders dropping while her heart clenches. She doesn’t know why she’s so disappointed.

Actually she does know why. It’s the reason she can’t bring herself to love another person no matter how much she opens up to them.

“And she’s horrible, mom. The wicked witch of the west!”

“I met her before camp and she was so rude to me when he wasn’t paying attention,” Caroline voiced. “I thought he’d have ended things already but for some God awful reason he’s still with her.”

“We can’t let him go through with it, mom,” Lila adds with determination, “He’ll regret it for the rest of his life. And well…the only way he won’t is if he sees you again.”

Y/n can’t help but make a sound of disbelief. “Wait a moment,” she nervously laughs, sitting up straighter, “are you trying to set me up with your father?”

“Yes,” they echo together.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Caroline says followed by Lila shouting, “You two are perfect for each other!”

“Girls—stop right there!” Y/n exclaims when the three adults try to sneak out. “Did you all know about this?”

“Whaaaaat?” Ollie scoffs, trying to play it off but Y/n knows him better than that. Jake and Nat were also denying it but the author’s knowing look made all three come clean.

“Okay I had some knowledge.”

“We sorta had an idea—call it a hunch.”

“It was just so sweet and sounded like a good idea—.”

Y/n falls backward onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh, “Lord have mercy.” She found herself in the hotel bar twenty minutes later with an ice water and some concoction she requested for her hangover. To her side she noticed a pretty blonde lady take a seat and order a gin martini. “Here’s to….” She inspected the drink with a frown before saluting the blonde, “here’s to you. Hopefully your life is not as complicated as mine.”

The lady gave a tight smile, “Thank you.”

God the drink smelled horrible, tasting exactly like something no one would drink unless it was the only source of hydration. Groaning, Y/n downed the contents in three gulps just wanting to get it over with, covering her mouth with a hand when it felt like it would come back up. “Excuse me,” she mumbled when an unpleasant sound escaped, resulting in the blonde giving a look of distaste. “I would not wish this upon my worst enemy.”

“Here’s you bill, Ms. L/n,” the bartender placed the receipt on the table for her signature.

“Thank you,” she quickly scribbled her name and passed it back along with a few bills for a tip, the blonde getting a good glance at it causing her eyes to go wide.

“You’re Y/n L/n?”

Taken aback, the author nodded shyly. “Yes.” She received a squeal from the woman.

“Oh my gosh! I was just reading your latest novel on the drive here!” She moved to the seat right next to Y/n. “And my agent told me about auditions coming up for the adaptation of your ‘Bridesmaids Chronicles’ series. Ah it’s fate!” Extending a hand, the blonde introduces herself, “I’m Marilyn Brooks.”

Over by the poolside Rooster approaches another woman resembling his ex-wife, muttering an apology when he sees it’s not her and bumps into almost every person he passes, “Sorry.”

“There you are, Bradley!” Marilyn’s father comes up to him while her mother takes his arm.

“Bradley, this resort is just beautiful. Don’t you think it’s perfect for the wedding?”

“I do,” he adjusts his collar, voice turning soft when his eyes cut across the pool to the woman descending the stairs. A smile appeared on his face, “Absolutely.”

It was her.

Anything Marilyn’s mother said went in one ear and out the other, the navy pilot excusing himself with an apology as he began to make his way around the pool. “Excuse me—sorry,” he dodged a man carrying towels before doing the same to another guest. “S-sorry,” his eyes stayed on Y/n, who was walking and taking in the scenery.

Not paying attention, Rooster stumbled over a cooler, which happened to be Jake’s. The two were seated on the beach chairs with Lila and Charlie, Ollie just off to the side looking flabbergasted as he took in his best friend’s ex. Nat looked at him in concern behind her sunglasses, “Bradshaw, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he turns to her briefly, causing him to collide with a pool boy,

“Sir!”

“Dad, watch out!” Lila’s shout had Y/n turn, gasping when she witnessed her ex-husband fall straight into the pool. Nat, Lila, and Ollie all gasped with her while Jake just took his phone out to video the whole thing. Y/n had to turn away when Rooster began swimming to the side she was on, ignoring all the looks he was receiving by his little spectacle.

The poor pilot was completely drenched head to toe. Y/n fidgeted as he approached, both smiling at each other nervously.

“Hey, Y/n/n.”

“Hello, Roo.”

Wiping at the water dripping from his eyebrow, Rooster moved closer causing a warm feeling to erupt in Y/n’s chest. Gosh he had changed—of course it had been 13 years, but Lord did he have to get even more attractive? And that damn mustache had her weak in the knees but thankfully she remained composed. “It’s good to see you.”

Getting straight to it, Bradley gave her a look once over, “It’s good to see you too….but is there something I’m missing here? You don’t seem too shocked to see me as I am to see you.” Squeezing the water from his shirt, “I mean it’s been thirteen years and—.”

“Dad,” a soft voice interrupts him, Rooster stunned when he sees who believes is Caroline standing beside Y/n. “I can explain why she’s here.”

“Caroline,” he says with caution, briefly glancing at the woman to see her reaction, “you know who this is?”

“I do.” She allows her natural accent to flow, “And actually, dad, I’m not Caroline….”

Coming on Y/n’s other side, Caroline grins at her father. “Hey, pops.”

The best word to describe Bradley’s face was astonishment and pure happiness. “Both of them?” He looks at the girl he came to the resort with, eyes shining a bit with the emotion filling him, “Lila?” Then he looks at her twin, “Caroline?”

“I’m not sure if it’s fate or you both just picked the most random summer camp to send your daughters too….but we met there and it wasn’t too hard to piece it together. You know besides looking identical there was the same birthday detail and the fact we were raised by one parent.”

“They switched places on us, Bradley,” Y/n put her arm around Caroline, beaming down at her.

Rooster looked at her stunned, but smiling nonetheless. “W-what? You mean I had Lila this whole time?”

“Well I wanted to know what you were like, and Caroline wanted to know mom—are you angry?”

He answered her with a big hug, “Oh darlin’ of course not,” he kissed the side of her head, not wanting to let her go. “I’m so happy—I can’t believe it’s you!” Pulling away he ran a hand over her cheek, in complete awe of her. “It’s been so long—you were so small the last time I saw you.”

“Well I’m all grown up now….and quite without a father,” she pulls away from him to stand next to Caroline.

“And I’m about to head into high school, where I’ll be one of the few to not relate to other girls arguing with their mother on the daily,” Y/n shakes her head with a chuckle at Caroline’s words.

“Care, you’ve been in New York this whole time?” At her nod he opens his arms, “C’mere kiddo.” After their hug Y/n politely requests a moment with Bradley, the teenagers giving sly looks as they walk away.

“No problem…take your time.”

The two take a seat on one of the beach chairs, Y/n asking for a first aid kit when she notices a cut to his forehead. As she tends to him, Rooster goes, “Jesus, both of them together? Wow, I can’t believe it—this is unreal,” he then raises a brow, “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday morning,” she explained softly, gently wiping away the blood before dabbing it with rubbing alcohol. She apologizes when he winces. “My father figured it out the other night. Honestly I’m ashamed I didn’t suspect anything—I just thought Lila had come out of her shell after camp when she was thrilled to come to my meetings where there’d be new people. And before you ask, Caroline told me you knew I was coming. Obviously, we were both deceived.”

“Talk about karma,” Rooster chuckles, not shy of calling them out on what they did wrong. “We kinda deserve it.”

“I do,” she corrects with a tight smile. “It was my idea after all.”

“Yeah,” he leaned closer, connecting their eyes, “but I didn’t stop it from happening, Y/n/n.” Seeing her hand falter at the name, Rooster tilts his head, “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” she nervously laughs, turning away to grab a bandaid. “Uh—I-I haven’t heard that name in awhile.”

“Do you not like it anymore?”

“No, no! I do like it. My dad still calls me it from time to time,” she says, putting the bandaid on his forehead. “I guess it just feels different.”

“I get it,” he nods, offering a small smile. When she wasn’t looking he unconsciously let his eyes take her in for the first time. “You look good, Y/n/n.” That was a lie, she looked incredible. Like an actual angel before him with her white dress and soft curls.

Before she could respond Marilyn appeared, causing the two to jump back when they realized how close they were. Rooster went a little red while Y/n scratched the back of her neck.

“Finally there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” The blonde said in relief, smile dropping slightly when she sees her fiancé with the renowned author, “Oh good you two met. Brad, this is the author of the series I was telling you about—the one I’m auditioning for….umm am I missing something?”

Glancing between the two, Y/n felt her heart sink at the realization the lady she met in the bar was the same woman she saw Bradley with in the elevator. His fiancé….who was in for the shock of her life when it was revealed not only were they married, but his daughter was a twin.

“Hey, Mare, great to see you again. I’m the Caroline you met at the beginning of summer. This is my twin, Lila. I was pretending to be her while she was pretending to be me,” she points to her sister before extending a hand to Y/n, voice full of pride. “And this is our mother, Y/n L/n.”

Everyone should have expected disaster to happen at some point in the weekend. The ex-wife, who Bradley may have had feelings for still, and the fiancé—who was keeping a secret of her own.

One that the girls discovered when they snatched her phone.

That night after the stunning reunion, the girls schemed their way into recreating the night their parents met. With the help of Jake, Nat, and Ollie, the group got Sonic milkshakes, Route 44s, and some food for the pair who they ordered to follow them to where they parked Rooster’s Bronco overlooking the beach.

“Clever girls,” Y/n chuckled, popping a tater tot in her mouth. “You see what they’re doing, right?”

“I do,” he laughed with her, “not a bad job if I must say. Though, we’re missing all the discarded baseball gear and beer cans.”

For about an hour the two talked in between bites of food. When the topic of their breakup came up, both tried to hide their regret as to not let the other see how it still affected them.

“It was your hairdryer,” Bradley said when Y/n asked if she had hurt him when she threw the object at him, unsure of what it was since the moment was a blur to her now. “Clipped me in the arm.”

Y/n looked away in embarrassment, though she did remind him of why she threw it, which then had the pilot frown in shame.

“But look at you now. New York Times Bestselling author, just like you wanted. It’s amazing, Y/n. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile. “It’s still surreal. And as much as I hate to admit it, it feels like it wouldn’t have happened had I stayed—even though I regret it.”

“You do?” he turned in his seat, tone unreadable though his eyes showed a different story. She didn’t look at him when she replied.

“I always had some regret. But because my dream came true I thought it was meant to happen. Leaving was the only way I could get it done. Then after discovering it was Caroline with me it all hit me full blast….I hurt her more than anything—and Lila. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. Now it feels like everything that happened after that day wasn’t worth it because I lost a piece of myself.” Y/n sighs, looking up at the stars, “I was just so angry with you and by what that officer said. It felt like no one believed in me and in turn why should I believe in myself. So I did the only thing I could think of….and I packed.”

Turning to face Rooster, a solemn gaze took over, “And you…didn’t come after me.”

Rooster didn’t know what to say other than, “I thought you didn’t want me too.” He was astonished by her confession, thinking how everything could’ve been different had he listened to his brain screaming at him.

“Oh well,” she sipped her drink, “It doesn’t matter now. The past is the past. Let’s just put on a happy face for the girls and I’ll be out of your hair again.”

The rest of the night Rooster couldn’t think straight. While Y/n made the arrangements for what they should do about the twins, he just nodded and agreed. All he could think about was how he let her go and regretted it everyday since. Even when they arrived back at the hotel to their separate rooms he went to bed with the image of Y/n as the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.

Y/n was checking out of the hotel when Rooster approached the counter. “So I’ll book Caroline’s flights for December and April.”

“And I’ll do the same for Lila in the summer,” she nodded, placing her bill from the concierge in her bag. When the girls arrived moments later, both parents were speechless by their matching outfits. “Girls, what is this?”

“Well, mom, we sorta came to an agreement. And we don’t feel like parting ways just yet.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n tilted her head at the teen who spoke. She thought it was Lila, but then again the woman wasn’t sure. They were hiding their necklaces to not give away who was who. “Lila, we don’t have time for this. Our plane leaves in four hours and I have a meeting with my publishers tomorrow.”

“Cancel them,” the other told her, making Y/n’s mouth part while Rooster’s eyes went wide.

“Caroline.”

“Yes,” they both answered.

Now the adults were becoming frustrated. “Girls, this is not funny. You’re gonna make your mother miss her flight—now stop this charade and tell us who is who.”

“Mannnn that’s pretty sad, huh,” the twin on the left voiced, “Can’t even tell your own daughters apart.” She received stern looks from her parents.

Going up to them Rooster leans down, putting his hands on his hips as he tries to tell them apart. Pointing a finger at the twin on the right, he smirks, “this is Caroline. I know that smirk anywhere.”

“Are you sure, dad?” the other twin says, plastering an identical smug expression. “You wouldn’t want to send the wrong twin to New York now?”

“Here’s what we want,” the one directly in front of Rooster states, “We want to go to Penny’s end of summer bash at the Hard Deck tomorrow night—you know, the one that happens every year. We go as a family, and once we do then we will say who’s Lila and who’s Caroline.”

Both parents look at each other flabbergasted. Then Y/n threatens, “Or I take one of you with me back to New York, regardless of who you are and that’s the end of it. Sounds good?” Nothing came of it, however, when Y/n pouted as she sat in the passenger seat of the rental car Ollie was driving until they made it to San Diego. Phoning Yolanda, her meeting was rescheduled and her flight was booked for Monday morning. They got lodging at an airbnb and settled for the night with both girls staying with Y/n on the promise they will stay with Bradley after the party.

Marilyn was not happy with the news of them staying an extra day. Having to deal with one daughter was one thing, but both twins had her head spinning. There was already high tensions with the teenagers, now throwing the ex-wife into the mix made things difficult for Marilyn when she was battling for Bradley’s attention. Not to mention all of Rooster’s friends didn’t like her.

Nerves raked the author when they arrived at the Hard Deck. It was her first time at the establishment and the only people she knew coming in were Nat and Jake. Ollie tagged along thankfully but then he was distracted by the adorableness that was Lt. Robert Floyd. Both girls dragged Y/n to all of Rooster’s friends, introducing the author with pride that made her chest warm.

“Oh hey guys,” Caroline giggled when the squad’s eyes bulged out at the sight of the three. “It’s me Caroline—the actual Caroline. That over there,” she points to her twin wearing a similar outfit only it was a Rolling Stones t-shirt and not The Beatles, “is my twin Lila, who y’all have been hanging out with the last two weeks. And this is our mom, Y/n L/n. Can’t believe dad fumbled such a bag.”

“Caroline,” Y/n scolded with a shake of the head, smiling when each of the guys introduced themself. “It’s nice to meet you all, the girls have told me all about you.”

“Wish we could say the same, ma’am,” Fanboy laughs, “We only know you from when Rooster gets drunk off his ass. Loose lips you know.” Y/n felt flustered by the comment, realizing Rooster still thought of her even after everything that happened.

Penny treated the author with a warm welcome, as did Maverick who both were surprised to see each other. “Oh my gosh, you’re Pete! You guys…you two rekindled?”

“We did,” he blushes, “took some time but it worked out. I’ve heard all about you, Y/n,” he gives an awkward shake of the shoulders, “He…told me everything about a year ago when it was the girls’ birthday.”

Everything seemed to be going well until the twins overheard Marilyn speaking ill of their mother. “She’s being a snake and you know it, Bradley! Ever since she got here there’s been an ulterior motive—and I bet you those kids are in on it,” she pointed a finger with a hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous, Marilyn,” Rooster’s tone takes another edge. “She hasn’t even spoken to me the entire night except to greet us when we arrived.”

“She doesn’t have to talk! It’s all in the looks and smiles! She’s a fucking romance author—of course she knows what to do to get someone’s attention. That’s how sad and desperate she is.”

By now Caroline had enough, bringing everyone’s attention to the scene when she yells, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” In her peripheral vision she sees Y/n, Nat, and Penny stand from their seats, moving closer to where they were.

Rooster gives a warning look, “honey, this doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” She ignores his disapproving eyes. “How dare she talk about mom like that?! You’re gonna let her speak about her that way—about the woman who gave birth to us?”

Lila steps up, glaring at the blonde, “Instead of worrying about mom, she should be worrying about who’s blowing up her phone wanting to know when to meet at the motel tonight.” They watch as all the color drains from Marilyn’s face. Rooster turns to his fiancé, confused and demanding an answer.

“What is she talking about?”

“I-I—she’s. Bradley, there’s nothing—.”

Caroline cuts her off, “Who’s Colonel Mustard?” Again Marilyn goes pale, though there’s anger in her eyes. “What a code name, Mare. I guess I better refer to his actual name, you know. Does the name Admiral Patrick Cross ring a bell?” She mocks, “oh yeah, he’s dad’s married boss at Top Gun and she’s been sending naked pictures to him all weekend.”

Gasps sounded all around, Ollie, Nat and Penny slapping a hand to their mouth where the squad and Mav all went, “oh shit!” Y/n looked at her daughters stunned before glancing at Bradley to see his reaction. The man was in disbelief, staring at Marilyn with unreadable eyes.

The blonde saw red. “You little bitch!” Before she could stop herself her hand came up and slapped the teen across the face, leaving a nice print in its wake along with a scratch from when her fake nail dragged against the skin.

Now Y/n saw red. Literally Kill Bill alarms blaring.

Marilyn screamed when her jaw snapped to the side full force from the impact of Y/n’s fist. The author had pulled her by the hair to turn her around, nearly ripping out her extensions. Blood coated Marilyn’s mouth, and a tooth even fell out by how hard Y/n had punched her. Before another blow could be landed the woman was pulled back, fighting against the hold from Ollie and Nat, “Touch my daughter again and see what fucking happens bitch—I’ll cut your fucking eye out!” While she was being dragged to the back patio to prevent from committing a crime, Marilyn ran out the front door with Rooster chasing after her.

Tears in their eyes the twins raced to their mom. When they got outside they saw her shaking the first that was no doubt throbbing. Ollie was trying to talk her down, all while complimenting how badass she was. “Oh honey,” she saw Caroline, moving to hold her. Telling Penny to bring out two ice packs, the woman brushed her uninjured hand against the teen’s cheek. It flared her anger more, wishing she could go beat the shit out of that cunt. “My sweet girl, are you okay?

“I’m fine, mom,” Caroline whimpered, sniffing when Y/n wiped the tear that fell. Her face stung and there would likely be a mark but she didn’t care. All she could feel was warmth and happiness by how her mom stood up for her. Looking at her first, the teen frowned at the discoloration. “Are you okay?”

Penny came out with the ice packs, handing one to Y/n and Caroline. “I’m fine—at least right now because my adrenaline is pumping. Give me a few more minutes and I could be in debilitating pain but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Glancing over the deck, Y/n’s face fell slightly. “Where’s your father?”

“He went after the witch,” Lila said with distaste. Caroline mirrored her expression, both twins disappointed with Rooster. The reaction had Y/n take a deep breath, controlling the anger rising which nearly snapped when the man slid open the doors of the patio and walked toward them.

“Not now, Bradley.”

“Y/n, listen to me—.”

“You went after her, dad,” Caroline sniffed, glaring up at him. “What the hell?”

“Not in the way you think, honey,” he leaned down to cup her face, careful of the mark. It was taking everything in him to remain composed. Just moments before when he was ending things with his now ex-fiancé, Rooster had to remember she was a woman and not to lose it even though she had just laid her hands on his daughter. Had she been a man….well there would be an ambulance called. “I only went after her to tell her to get her crap out of the house and expect charges for assault to be on her doorstep.”

Now that had them speechless. “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And I’m so sorry,” he kissed her forehead, moving to hug her and opening his arm for Lila to join. “Thank you both for what you did. I owe you two for saving me.” He feels them laugh against his chest, the pilot lifting his gaze to settle on Y/n. She has a smile on her face, blushing when they look eyes. At her wince he notices her hand was now black and blue. “You should get that looked at.”

“Oh It’s fine—,” she tried to deflect but he wouldn’t have it.

“That looks broken, Y/n,” he gently moves the girls to the side so he can inspect it. The woman makes a pained sound when his fingers try to turn it. “Yeah, we’re going to urgent care right now.”

“Bradley—.”

“No excuses. Girls, let’s go.” He almost wanted to laugh at the pout on Y/n’s face, hauling her to the Bronco before speeding off to the nearest urgent care. The entire way she tried saying she was fine, but the pained expression every time she moved her hand in the slightest gave away that she was in fact not fine. The girls couldn't help but giggle at the way the adults were bickering. Like they were still married.

With a diagnosed fracture and cast on her wrist, Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach when they returned to the beach house for the girls to get their things. They would spend the final night at Rooster’s before Y/n and Ollie would pick Lila up in the morning in time for their flight. While the girls were upstairs, Y/n and Bradley sat on the deck, neither not knowing what to say.

“What time do you take off?”

“A quarter till nine,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the waves in front of her. She felt him come to her side, so close she smelled his cologne that if she closed her eyes, it would put her back in 2006. “It’s a straight shot thankfully—no layovers.”

“That’s good,” he muttered, head spinning with a million things he wanted to say but couldn’t form the words. Part of him just wanted to confess he still loved her. That he never stopped. That they should try to kick things back off. But then he thought about how their lives went. Here he was a Top Gun instructor in San Diego, and she was a bestselling author in New York.

Rooster thought of her stories. He read every single one on the market the day they dropped, feeling the heartbreak in him every time he flipped through the pages of her second novel that he knew was loosely based on their story. He remembered crying at the end when he finished it the first time. It was the only one without a happy ending.

All the books were hidden in his closet, but at least once a year Rooster would pick up one and read the beautiful words Y/n wrote. He was so proud of her, but didn’t know how to say it.

“Roo—.”

“Y/n/n—.” Both chuckled nervously when they tried speaking at the same time.

“You go,” she insisted. Wiping a sweating hand on his pants, Rooster took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “For what I said to you that night. And for not standing up for you like I should have,” his face was full of regret. “I was more worried about my job than you—a-and it was wrong of me to do so. I made you feel like your talent wasn’t worthy, that you’d never make it as an author and I’m so fucking sorry for saying that. You are an amazing writer and you deserve everything that has come from it. Your books are incredible, Y/n. Every one of them.”

Y/n feels her throat tighten, voice going small, “Y-you—you’ve read them?”

“Every single one,” he confesses, making her whimper slightly by the emotion erupting in her chest. “On their release day. And I read them in one sitting.”

Y/n’s heart was soaring. Never did she think he’d read her books, let alone buy them the day they came out. His confession was making it harder for her to let him go again. “Roo…” she whispers, eyes glistening as he moves closer to her.

They stared at each other for a moment. No words came out but in their looks was everything they needed to know. The love they thought had left years ago resurfaced in just a few days.

Right as it looked like Rooster was about to lean down, the sound of a car filled their ears, causing Y/n to drop her head. “That would be Ollie.” Rooster nods, disappointment filling him as he slowly backs away to enter the house, but not before giving her one last look to see her wiping her eyes. Y/n gives the twins a kiss on the head before waving goodbye when they leave. Now that he was home, Ollie wanted to know everything he missed—jaw dropping when Y/n admitted they nearly kissed.

“Why didn’t you!?’

“Because, Ollie!” She says dramatically, “four hours ago the man was engaged and may I remind you, we’ve been broken up for over a decade. Why the hell would I let him kiss me when there is no chance something would come out of it.”

“You don’t know that, Y/n,” Ollie comes around the kitchen island, wine glass in hand. “Look, you may not have seen it but my eyes know what I saw this whole weekend. And it was a man who wants to sweep you off your feet and take you to the nearest chapel.”

“Ollie—.”

“Did you not see his reaction when you clocked that bitch? My God it looked like he was about to pop a semi.” Y/n put her free hand to her face, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The whole moment at the bar was a blur to her from the moment she saw that wrench put her hand on Caroline. It was all a haze until she was outside dealing with a throbbing hand. Barely did Y/n look at Rooster, she was focused on her daughter.

“Noooo, I did not see his reaction, Ollie. I was too busy dealing with the fact I was about to commit bloody murder.”

“Well I can assure, babe, that your sexy pilot of an ex was wanting to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed. After of course making sure sweet Caroline was okay.” Setting down his wine glass, he gives her a stern look, “Tell me the truth, do you still love him?”

“It’s complicated—.”

“It’s a yes or no, Y/n.”

“What exactly do you want me to say,” she threw her hand out, “that yes I’m still hopelessly hung over him and wish I could go back and time to stop myself from leaving? That seeing him this weekend made me feel like a twenty-two year old girl again? That I have envisioned everyday since Caroline told me about the switch, that maybe we could pick things off where we left?” They were all rhetoric questions, Ollie allowing her to rant as tears threatened her eyes. “Of course I do—to all of the above. But this isn't one of my books, Ollie, this is real life—a-and his life is here while mine is in New York. I don’t want to leave that and how should I expect him to leave all of what he has built here for me?” Sniffing, Y/n looks away with a hand to her chin, whispering, “It’s why I left in the first place.”

The rest of the night the two packed the rental car so it was ready for the morning and watched cheesy rom-coms since neither could really sleep. They got maybe four hours on the couch, but soon their alarm woke them up to start the day. Y/n called Lila to make sure she was awake and ready before showering herself, putting on a simple outfit for the flight.

It was a heartfelt goodbye when they arrived at Roosters home. Caroline held onto Y/n for almost five minutes, the woman promising to call her everyday so she could hear how the teens' day. They spoke of excitement for the holidays with Y/n promising to take her and Lila skating around the big tree and to celebrate New Year’s in Time Square. Not too far from them Lila was held by Rooster, the teen lightly crying when they pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He tells her, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Maybe sooner than you think, Lila darlin’.” She doesn’t think much of the comment, only nodding up at him before embracing Caroline when approaches. Together the girls walk to the car with the adults watching as Ollie gives a hug to Caroline.

“You take care of yourself, Y/n/n,” Rooster places a hand on her shoulder, “and hope you two have a safe flight.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, offering a tight smile. “And I will.” He surprises the author when his lips gently press against her forehead, squeezing her hand after it had fallen from her shoulder to hold it. They share one last look, Y/n nodding to him before walking up to the car. She and Caroline share one more embrace, Y/n kissing the teen’s head with Caroline shutting the door of the car behind her. Waving through the window, Y/n blows her a kiss as Ollie presses on the gas. Soon Rooster and Caroline grow smaller in the rear view mirror, the distance growing by the second until finally they disappear when they turn the corner onto the freeway.

On the plane Lila barely talks. She’s either nose deep in the book she bought at one of the airport shops, headphones in, or looking out the window with absolute silence. Y/n tries to have a conversation, but eventually gives up knowing her daughter needed some time. The only response she received when assuring Lila the holidays were around the corner was a sad nod. Within hours the sunny skies of California turn into gloomy clouds of New York. Rainfall greeted them as they stepped out of the airport, finding their Uber quickly to beat the afternoon rush. It took maybe an hour for them to get home from JFK, Y/n frowning when she saw Lila wipe a tear away.

Ollie was dropped off at his home first, waving to them with the promise of seeing them later for dinner. Dropping their stuff in the foyer, they call out to Y/n’s parents. “Mom? Dad?” “Gran? Grandpa?”

“I’ll check the study,” Y/n moves to the room her dad spent most of his day in. A smile appeared when she entered to see the morning’s newspaper in his hands.

Or so she thought was her dad’s hands.

Leaning against the door, Y/n spoke with a soft voice, “Hey, stranger, we’re back?”

The paper dropped to the desk, revealing a beaming Caroline in a flight suit sitting in the chair. Y/n’s jaw dropped, hand going to her chest. Caroline gave a cheeky look, “Hey, mom, did you know an F-18 can get you here in a quarter of the time compared to a commercial jet?”

All she could do was nod back slowly, feeling her heart pound against her chest. “Y-yes, I-I’ve heard. What—.” Upon her gasp when she saw Caroline, Lila raced into the study, matching the expression of her mother.

“Care! What are you doing here?”

The twin rose from the chair, “Hope you don’t mind us crashing in. But, it took us less than a minute after you guys left for us to realize we didn’t want to lose you both again.”

Y/n almost stumbled as she took a step into the study, “W-we?”

Caroline’s gaze drifted to the other entrance of the room, where Rooster appeared in his own flight suit, eyes locked on Y/n, “We.” He heard her make a sound, the hand on her chest going to her mouth. “My biggest regret was letting you walk away that day, Y/n. I’m not gonna make that mistake again. And I promise to never make you feel like you aren’t worthy of something—because you are worthy of everything you set your mind to. And I’m gonna make sure you know that everyday.”

Y/n started to feel the emotion bile in her throat, shaking her head slightly to stay strong. “A-and I suppose you just expect me to fall into your arms like I did all those years ago,” she saw a smile form on the corner of his lips, the man slowly moving closer to her with a knowing look. “And cry hysterically saying we can figure this whole thing out and have a long-distance relationship with our girls being raised here and there,” he continues to move closer, making Y/n’s heart pump faster. “—and we just pick up where we left off…with the promise of growing old together and…”

By now Rooster was directly in front of her, gaze full of love and adoration. She forgot what she was about to say, getting lost in his eyes, “oh come on, Roo. Is this supposed to be a happily ever after?”

“Yes,” he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks that were warm and damp. “To all of it, Y/n/n. You write happily ever afters for a living, now it’s time for you to have your own.” He smirks adding, “Except you don’t have to cry hysterically, baby.”

That nickname combined with the offer had the tears rolling down her cheeks, Y/n nodding weakly against his palms, “Oh yes I do.” The last word was met with his mouth pressed against hers, fireworks erupting all over her body. Letting her eyes flutter shut, Y/n’s hands moved to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, feeling Rooster smile causing her to do the same.

Behind them their daughters were holding back their squeals, Lila falling dramatically onto the sofa while Caroline leaned against the bookshelf, “I can’t believe we actually did it!” They eventually moved out of the study to allow the pair some privacy, all the while they never broke the kiss until needing air but kept their mouths close.

“Wait a moment,” she ran her hands along his flight suit, “Did you steal an F-18 so you could get here before me to come confess your love—and had our daughter in the backseat?”

He gives a shrug, grinning wide, “Maybe.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” She looks at him like he grew two heads. “And how does Caroline—.”

“Well actually Mav helped me out,” his arms went around her waist, pulling her against him. “We got special permission—so don’t worry I won’t be arrested anytime soon. As for Care, Fanboy and Bob have been teaching her a thing or two about being a backseater. I think she’s getting the hang of it.”

“Oh my lord,” Y/n closes her eyes before laughing at the whole situation. Rooster laughs with her, nuzzling his head into her neck. “You are an impossible man, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Only for you, Y/n L/n.

Six months later……

Y/n wiped the sweat from her forehead, pressing the enter button with a huff of victory. The glasses were removed from her face, leaning against the back of her chair to give her body the much needed stretch. When her arms extended out to relax the tense muscle, the diamond ring on her finger sparkled against the light. The sight made her smile, eyes going back to the words on the screen.

A knock on the door sounded seconds later, “Come in.” Gently opening, Rooster appeared with a mug of steaming coffee, his own wedding band reflecting as he shut the door. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” he winks, coming to put the mug on her coaster before leaning down to kiss her lips. “Lila called, the two are staying after school for a club meeting.” Y/n thanks him for the coffee, nodding at his words with a knowing look.

“I take it pizza is the move then tonight?”

Rooster chuckles, “Unless you want me to whip up some pasta, but I gotta warn you it’s not gonna be anywhere near what you get in town. Although not to toot my own horn, my spaghetti is pretty damn good. At least that’s what Caroline tells me.”

“Oh goodness, well I can eat anything at this point,” she sighs dramatically, “Or maybe we can tell them to meet us at Milo’s. I think a celebration is in order.” Rooster tilts his head confused, but then smiles at the word doc on the screen.

“You finished?”

“Yes,” she beams. “Well I finished the draft. I plan to edit it myself first before sending it off….but it’s done.”

“That’s amazing, baby,” he kisses her cheek, gesturing for her to get up so he could sit and have her in his lap. “I’m so proud of you. You got that done in a record time. Didn’t you just start that—not even a month ago?” Y/n nods shyly.

“I had a lot of inspiration. The words just flew out honestly—Yolanda is gonna have a field day.”

Rooster gets a glimpse of the last paragraph causing a smile to appear on his lips. Respecting her writer's privacy he didn’t ask much about the novel when she started writing it, only when she discussed it on her own terms. He could see the excitement in her eyes, warmth in his veins by how happy she was and couldn’t wait to read it when she finished. “May I ask what inspired this book, Y/n/n? Although, I do have a funny feeling.” Y/n didn’t have to answer, her bashful smile was enough to tell him everything. “Have you thought of a title yet?”

Glancing to her screen, Y/n read over the final paragraph stopping at the words in bold THE END. Her readers were gonna freak out when it would be announced she’s coming out with a sequel to her second released book, the one responsible for her receiving fan mail with them begging for her to continue the story. To give the characters their happy ending.

She just needed her happy ending first.

The story was being written in real time.

“I was bouncing between a couple, but I think I have it,” she faces her husband, grinning as the name slips off her tongue. It was what Lila and Caroline had coined when Y/n came to them about the book.

“I think I’m gonna call it….The Parent Trap.”

……………….

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