For The Love Of Hockey!

[jetblackashx]

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // .✦݁˖

it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.

throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.

aka off campus social/text au!

garrett graham x fem!reader (she/her)

childhood best friends -> lovers (lots of angst i love angst)

--

part one - profiles/intro/playlist

part two - the deal

part three - the unknown

part four - the shirt

part five - the game

part six - the concussion

part seven - the comfort

part eight - the fight

part nine - the threat

part ten - the phone

part eleven - the aftermath

part twelve

part thirteen

tbd…

dividers via @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

disclaimer: most media involved is from pinterest/actor socials! all texts/posts were generated by me via memi messaging & photonote. watermarks for @/evescole are my previous username.

general triggers: mdni!! dark humor, cursing, stalking, angst (hehehe), lowkey hannah erasure but i tried not to, mentions of phil graham.

absolutely NO artificial intelligence was used in the production of this series.!!!

[moonacrefarm]

anticipating love

summary: your parents marriage didn’t survive the test of time and neither did you first love. 

contains: childhood friends to lovers to strangers, second-chance romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slight miscommunication, fluff, 18+ series, mentions of stalking, mentions of cancer, no mention of y/n

authors note: i had uploaded on a previous account of mine. its originally from 2022 but i stopped posting due to health reasons so i decided to fully flesh out the story and finish it here! i will update the tags as the story goes on. anyways, thank u for reading and enjoy!

chapters.

01. watching, i keep waiting

02. never hesitating

03. fated ones

04. turning and returning

05. a secret place to hide

06. my love

07. through the hourglass

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Faking It | Part V

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

And thus continues my ode to all the tropes that ever troped XD Wanna hear something funny? I have this story saved in my one-shots folder. Like, what was I thinking??

Anyway, thank you so much for following this meandering tale. I still can't believe the epic support and love you guys have given me and this story <3 I appreciate you more than you know!

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, some angst (y'all knew it was coming)

Start from the beginning: Part I

You open your eyes the following morning to find Bradley’s arm draped over your body, his fingers wrapped around your hand near your chest. You hold your breath, lest you wake him before you can fully appreciate the moment. You close your eyes for a minute, imagining that all of it is real.

Before the minute is up, however, Bradley begins to stir. You decide to keep your eyes closed, curious as to how he will react upon waking in an embrace with you. You feel his body shift behind you, his head lifting slowly off the pillow. He doesn’t withdraw his arm just yet and you can feel his breath warming the tip of your ear as he rests his head briefly over yours. His fingers tighten around your hand for a split second before he releases it and drags his arm away, his hand lightly skimming the exposed skin under the hem of your shirt as he rolls onto his back. Meanwhile, you nearly convulse at the absolute upheaval of your entire nervous system as your body grapples with the chaos ignited by his fleeting touch.

You turn around slowly to see him covering his face with his hands and your heart sinks. He’s clearly mortified and possibly regretting the entire endeavor. He must know that you like him. He must see right through you. And then it hits you. You were drunk last night. Had you done something that might have given you away? Other than convincing him to share a bed with you and cuddle you to sleep? You think you might be sick.

You sit straight up, wincing at the pounding in your head, and slip out of the bed without so much as uttering a good morning to the man who’s been spooning you all night. You rush into the bathroom, hurriedly locking the door behind you, as if Bradley might try to barge in. You start running cold water over your face, trying desperately to remember every single thing that happened the previous night.

Bradley had seemed fed up with Steven, but that was likely for show. Bradley had helped remove your shoes, but that was likely because you would’ve otherwise ended up with your face in the sand. Similarly, carrying you when you had expressed some ridiculous phobia of crocodiles? That was likely an attempt to get you home before you did something stupid. You cringe, looking up at your grimace in the mirror.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bradley is already dressed. He looks over at you with an apprehensive expression. “You up for some breakfast?” he asks.

“Uh, I’m actually going to head over to my sister’s chalet,” you say quickly, gathering your things. “All the bridesmaids are getting ready there.”

“You should eat something,” he says.

Your eyes meet his across the room. “I’m sure they’re going to have a platter of sandwiches or something.”

Bradley looks like he might have something else to add but ultimately seems to reconsider. “I guess I’ll see you later,” he says.

You give him a tight smile. “That’s the plan,” you respond, heading for the door.

…

You spend the morning in a daze. Your sister is getting married and you can hardly think of anything other than Bradley Bradshaw. Once or twice, this realization infuriates you, but then you blissfully revert to daydreaming about his captivating grin and his expressive eyes and his beautifully sculpted shoulders.

By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re frighteningly untethered from reality, and you desperately try to focus on the task at hand. You take a deep breath, grounding yourself before taking the final step off the stone staircase onto the perfectly manicured lawn, clutching your bridesmaid’s bouquet to your chest. You haven’t seen Bradley since that morning and your nerves are shot with the anticipation of what the day might have in store. Your thoughts that morning may have all revolved around Bradley’s shoulders but, if you’re going to make it through the rest of the weekend, you’ll have to feign indifference toward him, romantically speaking – while pretending that he is the love of your life. It can’t be as complicated as it sounds. You take several more breaths, concentrating all your efforts on your walk toward the altar without letting your heels sink into the soft ground.

Your eyes scan the chairs briefly but you see no sign of Bradley’s wavy, brown hair. You take your place next to the other bridesmaids, turning to the collection of lawn chairs in front of the flowered trellis. You’re still searching for Bradley in the crowd when the flower girl skips up the aisle sprinkling handfuls of rose petals over the freshly cut turf. When you can’t locate him, you start to worry that perhaps he’s changed his mind about attending. The thought upsets you because the least he could have done was talk to you beforehand so that his absence wouldn’t catch you off guard.

You’re still annoyed when your gaze lands on a particularly handsome face that’s smirking up at you from the assembled guests. You stare at him for a moment, shocked that you didn’t recognize him sooner. He’s wearing a light-colored suit and his hair is slightly more gelled than usual but, other than that, he’s the same old Bradley. Except, you’ve never seen him in formal attire before. And he looks good.

You give him a smile, playing the part of the enamored girlfriend despite the turmoil in your gut at having left things unsettled that morning. You look away from him so as not to give him an opportunity to perceive the discomfort on your face. In doing so, however, your eyes settle on Steven instead. He grins at you broadly, wiggling his eyebrows. You feel sick to your stomach and promptly look away just as your sister makes her way down the aisle in her blindingly white gown. Behind her slender form, you notice that Bradley is glaring at Steven.

You smile inwardly at Bradley’s transparent animosity toward him. Your ex-boyfriend certainly deserves it but, what’s more, it’s a pleasant feeling having Bradley in your corner against enemy number one.

When the ceremony comes to an end and all the guests rise as the wedding party heads back up the aisle, Bradley gives you a slight nod as you walk by which sends a fluttering sensation throughout your insides. You quicken your pace, racing after the happy couple as if you plan to outrun them, completely forgetting about the grass versus heels situation. Your left foot sinks into the ground and you nearly lose a shoe as you stumble forward.

Just as you’re about to fall face first into the greenest grass you’ve ever seen, Bradley hops out of his row and grabs your arm, sliding his hand around your waist to steady you. It all happens so quickly that you’re still visibly shaken as you straighten your back.

“You okay?” he asks, his face hovering far too close to yours as he leans forward to look at you.

“I think so,” you breathe. “Good catch,” you add.

He smirks with one side of his mouth. “You are too, babe,” he replies.

You stare at him for a moment, trying to decipher how much of the current scenario is an act, and you decide that Bradley Bradshaw has missed his chance at a seriously successful career in acting.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding his arm out for you. “I hear it’s cocktail hour.”

You try to calm your overwrought nerves and glance up at him with a guarded smile. After all, you need to convince your mother – and Steven – that you’re in a happy relationship, and you can’t do that by avoiding poor Bradley’s gaze all evening. It’s not his fault he’s hot as fuck. “Let’s do this,” you say, sliding your arm through his as the rest of the guests begin to make their way toward the patio where the servers are already walking around with platters brimming with ridiculously small, and unnervingly unrecognizable, food.

…

“You look good,” Bradley says casually as he reaches to take a miniscule quiche off a circulating platter.

You swallow a large chunk of stuffed mushroom, praying you don’t choke on it before you could respond. “You’re not so bad yourself, Bradshaw.”

He grins, popping the quiche into his mouth.

You meet his gaze and nearly lose yourself in his eyes when you feel a violent tug on your dress. You look down to see your niece smiling up at you. She continues pulling on your dress even though she’s already captured your attention and you have to pry her little hands off the chiffon skirt before the material disintegrates in her iron grip. “Aly, Aly, what’s up?” you ask hurriedly.

“Is this the pilot?” she asks with a sly smile on her face as she turns to look up at Bradley.

Bradley grins at the little girl. “Hey, how’d you know?” he exclaims.

Aly giggles. “I guessed,” she admits.

“Good guess,” Bradley says, winking at her.

“How big is your airplane?” Aly asks excitedly.

Bradley lifts his eyes to look at you as you bite into your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Size doesn’t really matter, little girl,” Bradley says.

A small chuckle escapes your mouth despite your efforts to contain it and Bradley shoots you a pointed look.

“What matters,” Bradley continues, “is how you use it.”

“Use it?” Aly looks at him with furrowed brows.

“Fly it!” Bradley corrects himself. “How you fly it.”

You put a hand to your mouth, trying to hold in your laughter.

“In any case,” Bradley says. “My plane is quite large as far as planes go.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and turn away, because looking at Bradley will certainly compromise your poker face.

“What’s so funny, auntie?” Aly yanks on your dress again.

You turn to look at her with tears in your eyes from the strain of withholding your laughter.

“Yeah, auntie,” Bradley chimes in. “What’s so funny?”

“I am not laughing,” you say with a giant smile.

Bradley chuckles, shaking his head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, auntie,” he says, and the rough quality of his deep voice makes the statement sound ridiculously sexy, nudging your mind in precisely the opposite direction.

“Yeah, auntie,” Aly agrees. “Get your mind out of the udder.”

At that, you burst out laughing. Grabbing Bradley’s shoulder – the very one you’d been fantasizing about for the better part of the day – you try to steady yourself while attempting to stifle your own amusement. Bradley chuckles while his hand slides around you and rubs your arm absently as you try to breathe through your hysterics.

Aly squeezes in between the two of you, peeking up at you with a grimace. “You’re really happy today, auntie,” she says.

Bradley’s hand stops stroking your arm and his embrace briefly tightens around you.

“Well,” you say, wiping your eyes and straightening your back. “It is my sister’s wedding day. Happiest day of my life.”

Aly eyes you skeptically while Bradley’s hand falls back to his side as you slowly move away.

Bradley looks down at the girl. “You ever heard of the Super-Hornet, Aly?” he asks.

Aly glances up at him with wide eyes and shakes her head.

“Tell you what,” he says, crouching down so that his face is level with hers. “You tell your auntie that she’s going to have to let you borrow me for a dance so that I can tell you all about it.”

You chuckle lightly as Aly glances up at you with a couple of round, excited eyes. “I suppose I can lend him for one dance,” you say.

The girl runs off cheerfully and Bradley rises, his eyes settling on yours as a smile spreads on his face. “Look at you being so generous,” he says.

You shrug. “What kind of person would I be if I refused to share with a child?”

He laughs, his eyes still holding your gaze as he licks his lips. “So,” he says after a moment. “You left in a hurry this morning.”

Your giddy mood instantly deflates and, as you contend with a sudden and rather debilitating panic attack that derails your plans for an uneventful evening, the space between the two of you becomes fraught with tension. “I was running late,” you say dismissively, turning away from him to try and locate another server distributing appetizers.

“I saw your sister at breakfast,” he says.

You shoot him a horrified look. “Oh no!” you exclaim. “Was she wondering why we weren’t together?”

 “Probably,” he says. “But that wasn’t really my point.”

“Fuck,” you groan. “She’s going to tell my mom. And my mom’s already on my case. And” –

“Why’d you lie?” he asks.

You glance up at him. “I didn’t lie. I had no idea my sister would still be having breakfast.”

“Your sister said you weren’t supposed to show up till noon.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why are you interrogating my sister?” you ask crossly.

Bradley watches you levelly. “My bad,” he says after a short period of silence. “I thought we could be adults about this.” He pushes off the banister and heads across the terrace toward the bar.

You let out a frustrated sigh and shake your head. Of course, Bradley would choose the most crucial event of the entire weekend to pick a fight with you. You stomp off in the opposite direction, grabbing a flute of champagne from one of the trays as you go.

…

“Trouble in paradise?”

You look up from your drink to see Steven eyeing Bradley, who is standing on his own at the stone barrier separating the terrace and the grassy slope that slants toward the lake below. He’s looking out at the water with an impassive expression on his face. “Not now, Steven,” you say tiredly.

Steven leans into the high-top table you’re standing at. “I think now is the perfect time, baby,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Look,” Steven says, sliding closer to you along the curve of the table. “It’s clear to me that this Bradley guy – that he’s just a rebound…”

Steven continues talking but you’ve stopped listening. You’re watching Bradley finally turn around and look at you. Even from a distance, you can see the subtle shift in his features when he notices whom you’re conversing with. Bradley sets his jaw and starts towards you.

“…but I’m here now,” you hear Steven’s voice frighteningly close to your ear and you flinch, backing away.

Steven is giving you a smirk that he probably thinks is irresistible and perhaps, once upon a time, it had been for you. You’re about to tell him off when Bradley walks around the table from behind, forcing his way in between you and Steven. “I’m getting tired of finding you near my girlfriend,” he says, the antagonism palpable in his tone.

Steven appears annoyed that his advances have been cut short. “We were just having a chat,” he replies.

Bradley gives his head a slight shake. “Plenty of other people here to chat with,” he says tersely.

Steven lets out a scathing laugh and glances at you. “Y/N, since when do you let your boyfriends decide who you get to talk to?”

You’re about to bite back when Bradley takes a step toward Steven, lowering his face so that he could stare him down at close proximity. “I’ll tell you what,” he says in a low voice. “I see you bothering her again, and you and I? We’re going to have a chat. And, believe me, you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Steven takes a step back uncomfortably, glancing between you and Bradley with a begrudging expression. “I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he calls to you before turning and walking away.

Bradley shakes his head at him heatedly before turning to face you. You don’t meet his gaze, still upset with him for losing his temper and stalking off earlier, leaving you to navigate cocktail hour on your own.

Bradley doesn’t say anything either, so the two of you just stand in silence, refusing to look at one another.

Then, Bradley says, “Your mother’s on her way over.”

“Great,” you grumble, letting out an irritated sigh. You look up at Bradley with a sour expression. “Can you just pretend to be happy to be here?” you say, although the acidity in your voice is a far cry from the pleading and begging you’d done only a couple of days ago. You realize that you’re taking him and the favor he’s doing you for granted, but you’re far too mad to apologize for it now.

Bradley gives you a stony look and shifts his jaw. “Can you?” he asks flatly.

You bring a hand to your face and close your eyes, trying to reset your emotions. But it’s too late; your mother’s condescending tone makes you bristle. “You two seem to be enjoying the party,” she says with a hint of irony.

You glance up at Bradley worriedly to find that he’s already watching you. You wish you’d never asked him to come. There is no way the two of you could convince your extremely attentive mother that you are in love when you can barely stand to look at one another. At the same time, it’s not like you can come clean about the whole thing now; you’ll appear even more unhinged than your mother has already deemed you to be.

“Your gracious daughter here was just trying to convince me not to throw Steven into the lake,” Bradley says, apparently channeling his anger toward you into a jealous boyfriend persona.

You mother visibly stiffens. “This is a formal event,” she says sternly, giving him a horrified look. “There will be no such altercations.”

Bradley lets out a contemptuous chuckle, sticking his hands into his pockets before balling them up into fists. “That’ll be up to Steven, ma’am.”

Tag List:

The rest of the tag list is in the comments!

@lonelywitchv2

@fanboyluvr

@marrianena

@anotherr-fine-mess

@mrs-obrien

@living-in-my-imagination88

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@whitewolfsbitch

@beebslebobs

@gretagerwigsmuse

@mak-32

@strangunddurm

@desert-fern

@maverick-wingman

@jamielovesbucky

@n3ssm0nique

@misshoneypaper

@roosterscockpit

@jakexfmc

@wintercap89

@gracielou0518

@averyhotchner

@bxwitched

@yeetzel

@xoxabs88xox

@cynisarmy

@kwanimations

@onlygetaway

@hope-love-equality2

@shanimallina87

@ijustwantedplums

@oliviah-25

@gayforsteve

@gingerbreadandpaper

@vemonbby

@sebastianstansimp

@alexxavicry

@spn-marvel-nerd

@army24--7

@emmy626

@criminalyetminimal

@candid-confetti

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@thefandomimagines

@moony-artemis

@my-secret-life-1

@roostereads

@currentlybradshaw

@whisperofsong

[callsignlucky]

talk to me, lucky (part 4)

summary: You're Maverick’s kid. You’re also Bradley Bradshaw’s best friend—or at least, you were. What lies between you two now is uncharted territory.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw/mitchell!reader

wc: 3k

a/n: me posting another part two days later? it's more likely than you think! i hit the angst button on this one sorry y'all :')

<- part 3

When Bradley Bradshaw was little, his father put glow stars on his ceiling when he said he was afraid of the dark. 

After Goose passed away, things slowly faded away with time and nicknacks slowly started to be replaced as time marched on, memories began to fade, people started to talk about Goose less and less. 

But the one thing that remained constant over the years were the glow stars Nick Bradshaw painstakingly pressed into the ceiling of his young son’s bedroom. 

I remember them so vividly, even now. It was amazing to me how they shone just as bright in his pitch black room at the age of nineteen as they did when Bradley was two and tucked under his dad’s arm as he read him Goodnight, Moon for the hundredth time. 

The night I realized I was in love with Bradley Bradshaw, we were lying beneath his stars. The irony of the whole thing was that I was only there because of a fight with my father. Dad and I didn’t fight often at all, which made those rare arguments peppered into my teenage years explosive. Honestly, I couldn’t remember what the fight was about, only that at some point along the way, Dad had mentioned Mom and the word disappointed and even though I knew he didn’t mean it, that he spoke before he thought, it sent me spiraling. I remember I trudged through the pouring rain down to the other end of the street because I couldn’t even stand to be in the same house as him. 

Carole was waiting on the front porch for me with a big fluffy towel when I finally trudged up the steps. In hindsight, I should’ve realized then and there that I was the luckiest girl in the world—my father was madder at me than he’d been my entire life and yet he called Aunt Carole to make sure I didn’t catch a cold when I got to her house. That’s how much he loved me. 

She helped me into the half bath downstairs, where one of my many changes of pajamas left at the Bradshaw house was waiting. She took my wet clothes and sent me and my fluffy towel upstairs to Bradley’s room. 

I remember trudging up those stairs trying not to cry, because it was the worst thing I could possibly imagine for Bradley to see me crying. But, he was waiting in his doorway, brown hair tousled, clearly having been roused from a restful slumber. He smiled sleepily at me and held out an arm, and I remember how bad the sob that escaped me hurt my chest as I hugged him tight around the middle, and he guided me into his dark room and under his very fancy, very soft duvet. 

We lay there in silence for a long while, his fan spinning, and my watery eyes were focused on the stars over our heads. There had to be hundreds of little neon green dots glowing above our heads—very childish for a nineteen year old, but it was such peace to look up and get lost in the cosmos from the comfort of a familiar bed. 

“We’re analyzing this book in my Lit class.” Bradley spoke quietly, one arm tucked beneath his head and the other hand on his chest. “The Outsiders. Have you ever read it?” 

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah, during my freshman year of high school. What’re you doing reading that in college?” 

“It’s part of the unit. Revisiting books we read at a lower curricular level. It’s really cool to see how different we see books at fourteen compared to now. It’s like a whole new light.” Bradley never explained things to me like I was stupid, and ever since he started college it was nice to hear what I would expect once I graduated. “Anyways, it made me think of a nickname for you.” 

“A nickname?” 

“Yeah!” Bradley laughed out with a nod. “I mean, Little Mav is cute and all but it’s not even you, it’s just a play on your dad’s callsign. You need something special to you.” 

Finally, I tore my eyes away from Goose’s stars and turned my head to look at Bradley. “Okay, what was the nickname?” 

Bradley turned his head to look at me with a smile. “Cherry.” 

“Cherry?” 

“Yeah, like from the book? Cherry Valance?” 

I laughed and nodded, waving my hand. “Yes, Bradley, I know who she is, but why Cherry?” 

“You remind me of her.” Bradley said simply, and I raised a brow at him, though he could barely see it in the darkness. 

“How so?“ 

“Well, Cherry is kind to Ponyboy, even if he does live on the other side of the tracks. And she’s whip-smart, and courageous. Open-minded, too, just like you. It just fits. Plus, you’re sweet, just like cherries.” Bradley explained himself very precisely, and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I love it. Though, if I’m Cherry, I’ll need a Ponyboy.” I reasoned, and Bradley hummed thoughtfully. 

“I suppose I could be your Ponyboy. If you’ll have me.” He mused after a moment with a cheeky grin, and I nodded quickly, turning my eyes back up to the stars again. 

“I’ll have you always, Bradley Bradshaw.” 

“I know you will. That’s why I love you.” 

I remembered how well we took to those silly nicknames in the few years we had them before Bradley left.

I remember how bad he caused sunsets to hurt after he was gone.

———

As I walked onto the tarmac, sunglasses on my nose, I felt a hand snag my forearm, snatching me from my nostalgia. I was spun around unceremoniously, and Rooster was there, staring down at me over his father’s aviators. 

“Did you know?” He asked quietly, probably to avoid the other pilots from overhearing. He really didn’t need to talk so quietly, because the planes nearly drowned him out. “About your dad being here—did you know??” 

“Yes.” I replied, yanking my arm from his grip. 

“You could’ve warned me.” 

I clenched my jaw. “Warned you? What would you have liked me to say, Bradley?” I adjusted my footing, bringing my hand up to my chest. “Oh hey, so I know you haven’t talked to me in ten years and abandoned me over something my dad did, but just a heads up—he’s our new TOPGUN instructor!” He opened his mouth to speak, but my dad cut him off from behind us. 

“Rooster!” A light switch flicked from within him. I watched as his spine went straight, and he stepped around me, continuing on his path to his F-18, abandoning our conversation entirely, like he did most things lately. “Bradley!” Dad called again, and I scoffed bitterly, headed for my plane all the same. “Lieutenant Bradshaw!” Dad barked eventually, causing Rooster to stop. I watched from the nose of my F-18 as Bradley turned, towering over my father. Angry at him, angry at me, seemingly angry at the world. It felt like a bullet entered my chest as I watched them interact, so very different from the memories of my youth. It felt like a black sludge was slowly creeping over them, infecting the happiness of the past with the reality of now.  I wished things could go back to the way they used to be. I wished Goose didn’t die, that he’d had been there to raise his son, I wish his accident hadn’t scared his wife to death and pressued my father to make a deathbed promise. I wish Uncle Ice hadn’t helped my father pull Bradley’s papers, I wished Bradley would just understand my father only had his best interest in mind. I wished for a lot of things, things that would never come true, things that I couldn’t change but still weighed me down like a ton of bricks all the same.

Suddenly and all at once I shook that pain right out of my body, flapping my arms and hopping from one foot to the other, rolling my shoulders and neck and refocusing, readying myself to do my job. I wasn’t here to reminisce on the past, I was here to do a job and do it better than the men and women around me. I was here to live up to my father’s legacy. If we were going up against Maverick, there was no room in my head for anything other than the strategy and skill I knew I possessed, because I knew he was going to give us a run for our money. 

And sure enough, he did. We dropped like flies, one by one by one. The pilot in me was frustrated, but the little girl in me was amazed. Never did I think I’d get to see my dad fly, witness firsthand why I was the daughter of a living legend who actually lived up to the legend. But up there in that cockpit, I got to watch him become Maverick, picking us off like lemmings led to slaughter. 

First ones down was Rooster, who reaped what Payback and Fanboy sewed as the first victim of their idiotic two hundred pushup bet. 

“That should be us down there.” Payback mused as we watched from the window while Hondo counted off Rooster’s pushups. I nodded. 

“But it’s not. And now you know a little something about Rooster.” I replied, eyes lingering for just a little while longer before I turned and headed off for my time in the sky. 

Next was myself, with Harvard and Yale as my wingmen. Much to my disdain, they’d stopped to take a selfie with Bradley as he did his pushups, which I found to be in poor taste. Dad killed them fairly easily once we got into the sky, but I put up enough of a fight to make him sweat before he finally caught tone. The sun was hot and my arms ached but I had to admit, I was all smiles as we hit the tarmac for our pushups, listening to Hondo taunt the Ivy Leagues about their selfie with Rooster. 

Following them was Hangman, with Phoenix and Bob supporting. As much as I hated to admit it, Lieutenant Jake Seresin was one hell of a pilot. He lasted a lot longer than any of the others, even if he did play dirty and ditch his wingman to get those extra seconds. Watching him do his pushups was just as satisfactory as the previous group. 

Dad killed Omaha, Coyote and Halo after that, and sent Fitz and the Ivy Leagues for another round with Hondo immediately after. 

My final shot against my father left Hangman flying between myself and Bradley, and I kept my eyes ahead as I clicked my mask in place just as Hangman began to run his mouth. “So Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?” 

“Would it matter if I did?” 

“What’s the deal with you and Lucky? You two can’t even stand to be in the same room as each other.” I rolled my eyes as he literally talked over me, like I wasn’t even there. 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Okay. What about you and Maverick? Seems like he’s got you a bit rattled.” Even with his mask on I could hear the smirk in his voice, and Bradley rolled his eyes this time. 

“Still none of your business.” He snapped, looking around. “Now where the hell is he?” 

Dad’s voice cut through comms. “Been here the whole time.” Pushing my jet forward, I watched in disbelief as Dad pulled his jet up to loop on top of Rooster.

Completely inverted on top of Rooster. 

 Jake seemed to be on the same page as me, his eyes wide. “Holy shit.” 

“C’mon,” Dad taunted, and I sighed heavily, slumping back in my seat in annoyance. “Let’s get it over with.” 

“Fight’s on!” Rooster shouted, before pulling a hard right and turning the nose of his jet down. 

“What is with these two??” Jake asked, and I just shook my head, watching as the two most important men in my life went head to head in a downward spiral. If I’d have been able to talk without choking up, I probably would’ve aired our dirty laundry out to Hangman right then and there. 

“Alright, you put us here. How are you gonna get yourself out?” Dad grunted. 

“You can bail out anytime!” Rooster huffed in response. 

“How low you wanna go, Rooster?” 

“I can go as low as you, sir! And that’s saying something!” 

“What’s past is past, for both of us!” 

“You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you?” Rooster snapped out, some bite to his voice, pain in his words.

“Yeah, well the least you can do is leave her out of it!” 

I angrily unclipped my mask at those words, quickly wiping away the tear that slipped down my cheek and turning my head away from Jake so he wouldn’t see. The last thing I needed was the cockiest pilot I’ve ever met seeing me cry in the cockpit, as if I didn’t feel pathetic enough. I wish Ice hadn’t signed that paper to push my father through to Fightertown. 

“Hard deck is five thousand feet, fellas. You are running out of room.” Jake was trying to pull them apart, I’ll give him that, but his words fell on deaf ears as my father and Bradley went spiraling further and further down. 

“Your strategy is about to run us to the ground. What’s your move?” My father asked Bradley, and I gripped the stick tighter in my hand. 

“Pull up.” I muttered under my breath as Jake and I flew side by side, eyes on the active train wreck below us, neither one able to look away. The further they went, the faster my heart slammed into my chest, leaning forward in my seat until I couldn’t take it anymore. “DAMMIT PONYBOY, PULL UP!!” Rooster suddenly yanked the stick and leveled himself out behind but above my father, and the shot couldn’t have been more perfect. 

“C’mon, Rooster, you got him! Drop down and take the shot!” Hangman urged from my right, and I found myself agreeing with him out loud, urging Bradley to pull tone and take Maverick down. 

“It’s too low!” Rooster excused, and my dad declared for everyone to hear that it was too late, he had his chance, before he pulled the stick back and thrust the throttle forward. Hangman and I could only watch as Dad’s jet glided up into a Cobra maneuver, before dropping down and locking tone on Rooster. 

“That’s a kill.” Dad declared breathlessly, and Rooster hung his head with a swear while Hangman shook his head. 

“Same old Rooster.” 

I was the last one to land, having taken my time to get back to base. I really didn’t want to see anyone, especially my father and Rooster, and I was thankful that at least Bradley wasn’t there as I climbed out of my cockpit. Hondo and Dad remained on the tarmac, talking to one another, and I thought I could slip right by them when I caught my dad’s eye.

“Lucky!” Dad called after me, but just like Bradley had before, I walked right by him. I heard him swear behind me before heavy bootsteps were on my tail, and his hand snagged my elbow, just like Bradley had done before. 

Something in me snapped. 

I whirled on my heel and dropped my flight bag, slamming my fists into his chest as hard as I could. With a soft ‘oof’ my dad stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief as he looked at me, hands raised in defense. “Birdie—” 

“Don’t you Birdie me, are you CRAZY?!” I screamed, the sensation unfamiliar and disgusting in my mouth. I never raised my voice, especially at my father and certainly not on a tarmac in uniform but I just couldn’t take it anymore. The anger between him and Rooster was driving me insane, there was a pit in my stomach that I couldn’t soothe and a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow and it was all their fault, and I shoved my father back again. “You could’ve killed him! You baited him, and for what? To tease him??” 

“To teach him!” 

“Teach him what?? HUH?? What did he learn from that?? What did you accomplish aside from making things worse??” I reached my hand up and Hondo quickly stepped between us, a hand on my shoulder. 

“Lucky—” He tried, but I yelled right over him, pushing against his hand and swiping at my dad again. 

“You need to pony up and admit you did a fucked up thing to him. And yes I know Aunt Carole made you promise before she died and yes I KNOW you’re scared because of what happened to Uncle Goose but Bradley is a big boy now and one of the best pilots in the Navy because if he wasn’t he wouldn’t be here so you need to grow up, step back and let him make his own choices!” The words came out of my mouth like vomit, so fast and so quick that it left me breathless at the end. I slumped slightly against Hondo’s hand, watching my father’s eyes search my face. “You are so stupid for breaking the hard deck. You could have died.” That lump in my throat grew larger, hands shaking as one came to rest on his chest. “You are all I have. Don’t you realize that? I already lost Bradley. Don’t make me lose you too.” 

“I’m sorry.” My father whispered, and I just sighed, all the fight having drained out of me as I stooped down to grab my flight bag. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” From behind us, a familiar, deep voice boomed out. 

“Captain Mitchell!” The three of us turned to find Bates standing by the hangar door, looking less than pleased. “Admiral Sampson would like a word.” 

“I’ll see you at home.” I patted Dad’s back, before walking off, completely missing Lieutenant Jake Seresin standing by his F-18, a smirk on his face. Likely because he had just witnessed the entire thing. 

@zzsloth | @boringusername | @sydneejean | @mosebypineapple | @erinswrld | @roosterschanelslut | @mirandastuckinthe80s | @mak-32 | @shrimping-for-all | @rosiahills22 | @gretagerwigsmuse | @callsignbirdie | @hopefulinlove | @ponyboys-sunset | @maverick-wingman | @itscheybaby | @alanadetigy | @shanimallina87 | @actuallybarb | @majdoline | @belledawnidk | @srh5605 | @18crazybutcutealsopsycho | @hey-its-kayla-claire | @whore-for-pennywise | @notanordinaryprincess95 | @adjspam | @natzp03 | @callsign-redfox | @prongs-girlfriend | @samstersv | @morallyspookyglitter | @hope-love-equality2 | @student-disaster | @callsignfrostbite | @greaser9902 2 | @megan-schulz | @hotch-meeeeeuppppp | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @savslarabs | @caswinchester2000 | @kkrenae | @koperwiekje | @perseus-666 | @i-just-like-marvel | @abg1994 | @paintballkid711 | @turningtoclown | @deadunicorn159 | @jimmorrison13 | @awesomebooklover17 | @w0nderw0man-reading | @j-deimos | @can-this-be-a-fanfic | @justanothermagicalsara | @roostersluvvr | @itevilhag | @nonniecannie | @caldodemazapangourmet | @dracosluvbot | @posierosie | @inne-edoftherapy | @takeyour-pants-off

[youlightmeupfinn-deactivated202]

Sippin' On Fire || Rooster masterlist

✧ summary: You and Rooster Bradshaw had always been friends. With a tainted history, the two of you discovered yourselves entangled in a 'friends with benefits' situation a year ago. The problem? You hadn't seen Bradley in 6 months until he shows up in San Diego for Top Gun. As the daughter of Pete Mitchell, you don't want your father to find out about you and Rooster... But how long can you and Bradley play this game before feelings get in the way?

✧ warnings: will feature smut and angst

✧ pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Mitchell!Reader

✧ based on Sippin' On Fire by Florida Georgia Line

✧ Part One

✧ Part Two

✧ Part Three

✧ Part Four

✧ Part Five

✧ Part Six

[mrvdocks]

Life As We Know It VII.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Reader

Chapter Summary: Robin comes over to help you out and for moral support. Your relationship with Steve starts to take a turn.

Author's Note: whaaaat??? I'm posting again? And more than once in a row?? No but for real hey y’all! hope y’all are still enjoying the fic even after its long and much awaited return :)) also the nickname that Robin gives the reader as “Bee” is meant to be like bumblebee and an affectionate term based on their history.

There’s always someone there when you’re born. Whether it’s a nurse, a doctor, your mom, your dad, anyone really. You’re never alone.

When you die however, that’s when it gets tricky. Some people die alone. Some die with strangers. And sometimes some just die in places no one will ever find them. 

You hoped it was the latter for your friends, embracing death surrounded by those they loved. 

The rapid rhythm of your heart persisted, going crazy in your rib cage at the thought of existential dread. Parenthood wasn’t something you were particularly crazy or happy about. Hell, you weren’t sure you had the right upbringing either. Co-parenting with Steve was also the least of your worries. But there was a tiny voice in your head - you couldn’t tell if it was Nancy’s or Jonathan’s - that urged you to go on in their ever so usual forcing yet gentle tones. 

You wished for a simpler peace. Instead all you got were a baby, a manchild, and a booklet on how to plan for funerals. 

The booklet went tap - tap - tap on your chest, nearly ripping off its stapled spine after so much looking through it. You set it aside, choosing to not look at it any further. You weren’t so determined to get up, you much rather would wait to lay in bed until you heard Abby’s cries. Either way, Steve was still soundly asleep on the big couch in front of the television in the living room. 

You were waiting for Robin to show up to the house, who knew funeral planning took a village? 

Once your phone buzzed and you nearly ripped it off of the charging pod to confirm her arrival, you lept up and out of the messy bed and down the stairs. Steve remained asleep even during the heavy pattering of your feet against the wooden stairs. Not surprising, he’d gone out the night before and gotten absolutely plastered. 

After his small outburst in the car a few days ago, it wasn’t hard to understand why he was acting this way. That he had a right to be upset about uprooting his life. That’s where you found similarities in each other. But where you differed was where and how you both sought to cope. He went out and partied while you stayed home and let every emotion overwhelm you until you cried your eyes out and became dehydrated.

You chuckled dryly to yourself, feeling a familiar familial feeling to it. 

Robin had been an absolute rock for both of you during this time, obviously being the voice of reason that kept you and Steve from going at it like usual. Though Robin and Kali would often spend time with you two, Kali was often busy running the bar and so Robin would come in when she could. The two of them often taking turns checking up on everyone. Will called the day after the news hit their side, a sobbing and slobbering mess like you. He promised to visit soon, just as soon as Joyce got a little better, though the news only seemed to make her health decline.

Though you suddenly had a help line, you felt so ashamed to ask for help or emotional guidance. It wasn’t something you grew up with nor was it something your family ever offered. To have that felt strange and foreign. 

Robin carried an array of mail from outside, groceries, and along with a bag that contained a change of clothes for Steve. She beamed slightly, showing off her pearly whites as she entered the threshold and waved at you with her free hand. You smiled back slightly. It felt odd to you. Especially when all you did was the opposite. But Robin was a glass half full kind of person, always so persistent to keep going. 

“Hey Bee, got you some essentials and some other things. Didn’t know what you needed so I just kind of grabbed whatever I thought you’d like, hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” you respond, taking the things from her and walking over to the kitchen and setting everything on the island. “Anything works at this point. I don’t really know what to make here or even have the appetite to eat anyway.”

Her brows furrow, “You have to eat Bee- you’re starting to look a little like a ghost. When’s the last time you got some sun or something?”

Suddenly self conscious, you wrap your arms around your body and shrug. “I dunno. I haven’t really gone out since we picked up Abby. Nancy kept some snacks or cereal bars around so that’s all I’ve had.”

Robin shakes her head sympathetically. “Well, I brought food so we’re going to try to make something. You know I can’t cook to save my life so let’s see what we get otherwise we’re getting takeout.”

This spurs a chuckle out of you. You silently agree.

It only takes the two of you about nearly an hour or two to somehow pull through making a simple dish and conversations that go from whatever’s on tv at the moment to deep personal things for you to feel somewhat normal again. 

“How’re you feeling?” She suddenly asks, her mouth slightly muffled from the food she was bringing to her lips to eat. “Still scared?”

You don’t know how to answer that, no one’s asked you that yet. Or maybe they have. You’re not sure. You’ve been blanking a lot lately. 

You feel your shoulders drop as you release a sigh. “Not so much scared - just hopeful. I want to be someone Abby can depend on. Not just some cheap replacement for her real parents. I want to be able to do something for myself or for someone else and not be seen as this girl from Hawkins from the other side of the tracks everyone should feel sorry for.”

Especially when tragedy seems to always follow you.

“First of all, you're not a cheap replacement. Jonathan and Nancy picked you for a reason. They trusted you, they loved you, they knew just how much you love Abby and they knew you could do so much more for her if you had the chance. Second, no one is thinking that of you. Your past isn’t you and it’s definitely not your future. You’re better than that. You know you are. And you know you’ll be a great godmother.”

You poke at your food with the fork in your hand. “I just feel like - I don’t know if I agree with their choice to help me. I mean this is all just so unconventional.”

Robin snorts. “You’re talking to the ‘Queen of Unconventional', here. But Steve….he has his moments of vulnerability. Is he a fast talking womanizer who only thinks of getting his dick wet and rocking out sometimes? Yes, absolutely. But he’s still got a heart of gold. At least that’s what I remember from working with him at Family Video.”

“You know, I just can’t help but think this is Nancy’s last laugh. Like it’s her way of putting him and I together again. Even dead I can’t shake her damn matchmaking skills.” 

“You’re putting too much faith into a dead woman’s last will. Whatever happened to seeing his brother? Or literally anyone else?”

“Trust me, out of all the people in the world, he’s the last person I’d even consider to repopulate the Earth. But I haven’t seen his brother since her last appointment. I’d imagine he probably would be coming to the funeral or something.”

Robin chokes on her food. 

“Swallow, Robin. Also, I don’t need another friend to leave me behind too.” You remind her.

“I did - you just caught me off guard. Is that not like a hippo violation or something? Going to your patient’s mother’s funeral?”

“HIPAA - and I don’t know. Just seems like the respectful thing to do. It’s not like Steve will alert me if he comes either. He doesn’t seem like he likes him that much.”

“Oh yeah, they go way way back. You know, usual sibling rivalry stuff. But Steve never talks about it. I just get it all from looks and vibes. But you know, you should probably check that out.”

“I figured. I mean don’t get me wrong he’s cute and smart. But I’m not sure if I’m all that prepared or ready to go out there. Most guys don’t want to sit here with a baby and a co parent as a part of the deal.”

“And if they do? There’s got to be at least one man out there that doesn’t mind a baby already existing in the equation. Steve is easily removable. I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You conclude, just as Steve himself walks in. It profoundly startles both of you, sending you leaping back a foot and Robin shook as she slides off the island counter to smack him with the spoonful of food.

“What are you - a Prius?’ She wacks him once on the shoulder. “We need to put a bell on you or something.” 

Steve chuckles heartily. “That defeats the purpose of the charm. The ladies can’t see me coming.”

“Or it could be a warning. Maybe they’ll thank us.” You interject, making eye contact with him long enough for the two of you to exchange silly childish looks. 

He gives the food a glance and claps his hands together, “Alright, food! I’m starving.”

Both you and Robin place your arms dramatically over the food, “We made this! Go get your own food!”

Steve fights back and leans a fast hand under Robin’s armpit to tickle her which sends her jumping back, spilling hot sauce on her shirt, and away from the food. He immediately rips away a bowl of chicken and rice and rushes out the kitchen to eat in the living room. 

“Robin!” You exclaim, rushing to your friend. Robin mimics a soldier who’s been hurt on the battlefield.

“How bad is it Doc?” She fake winces. 

You run a hand up the hot sauce, ignoring that it looks like blood, and lick it clean from your finger. “We’re going to have to amputate.” 

Robin remains in character as she whines and helps you lift her up. She grabs a fistful of napkins and cleans herself up, but not before offering some words of wisdom. 

“Go get him back!”

As if on cue, you rush out of the kitchen and to the living room where Steve is beginning to sit and get comfortable as he flips through channels. Once he sets the bowl of food on the coffee table a few feet in front of him is when you attack. You lunge forward to grasp him from behind, pouncing and wrapping your arms and legs around his chest and waist. The sudden weight is enough to send both of you falling to the floor with an oomph! sound. 

Steve gets the upper hand when he slides a hand into your shirt backwards and uses the same maneuver he did on Robin. It’s your greatest weakness and it makes you release him from your somewhat vice grip. Next thing you know, Steve’s in-between your legs hovering over you as he uses one hand to torture you and the other to hold your hands up above your head to stop you from recovering. 

It happens so fast, it even takes Robin by surprise as she peers out from the kitchen and walks over. You’re both breathing hard on the floor, coming down from mutual attacks and staring at each other intently. 

“Truce?” Steve asks huskily, his necklace dangling ever so slightly above your face. The cold silver guitar pick grazes your face as he repeats his question.

Suddenly aware of the change in position, you feel yourself go red. You’re now realizing your hot breath is on his face, which should’ve smelled like food, but he doesn’t seem deterred by it. In fact, your eyes are trained on him now, scouring over his soft features. The laughter lines, the faint yet many moles he has, the bridge of his nose, his over the top hair, it all comes into a soft focus like when you place a camera lens to fade everything out in the back. 

His own eyes are studying you back. Taking in the way your chest rises heavily up and down as you try to regain your breathing to normal, the white v-neck shirt not doing much to hide it, the way your hair splayed out from underneath you to halo your face.

“Truce.” You breathe out, nodding quickly and splaying out your hands in surrender. 

There’s a weird moment in between him getting up and off of you that Robin comments on later to Steve. One where the general animosity towards each other seems to take a backseat and Robin wonders if you’d both benefit from a hate fuck. But in the moment it doesn’t just feel like Steve is piercing your body with his eyes, but something in his eyes soften slightly. His face does actually, the same face you make when you forget something and suddenly remember and it was something you wanted to remember or find. 

It’s a minute until you’re pulled up by him and settled on your feet. You both cough or do nervous tics that allow the other to excuse one other to get out of the situation. Robin keeps her laughter to herself as she watches you drag yourself back to the kitchen, teeth biting down on your bottom lip and eyes shut tight. She doesn’t need to use her infamous quips this time, you can already hear her. 

You're passed out on the couch with your feet resting on Steve's lap as he sips on some can and finishes his bowl of stolen food. His encounter with you and Robin earlier didn't deter his appetite. 

Robin sits lazily on the couch across from him, face in her knuckle as she tries not to fall asleep. Steve notices her nodding off and swings a foot over to her knee. Robin is startled momentarily before she smacks his foot away. 

He sighs as he moves your legs aside and sits up. 

"C'mon, time to go to bed. Go home. I got this." He says, confidently.

"No, you'll set the house on fire." Robin argues.

"Okay, it was one time and I was seven! I didn't know aluminum didn't go in the microwave."

Robin chuckles to herself and rolls her tired eyes. She stands up nonetheless. She rubs her tired eyes momentarily, glancing to you splayed out on the couch, clutching the multi color crochet blanket close to your face, soft snores erupting from you. Steve catches her glance and turns. 

There had been less animosity towards each other since the car incident. While Steve still kept up appearances with you, he knew that this big change was definitely affecting his life in all aspects. His band, his love life, any freedom he thought he had.

As if she’s read his mind, Robin nudges him on the shoulder as she opens up the front door. 

“How’s Monroe?” 

Steve turns back to face Robin, remembering the mini fight he had with his on and off girlfriend when he had revealed his new parentage. He doesn’t know if she’s asking because she’s genuinely interested in knowing or if she’s trying to fill in the void of the late night. 

He shrugs. “She doesn’t really see a kid being in the mix right now. I mean I get it. No one does. But it doesn’t matter. Us Harrington men don’t stay single for too long.” 

There goes that smug face of his. His armor. Robin gives him a suspicious look, she always knew when he was being genuine or full of shit. Just a downside but also a perk of their very long friendship. 

“Hmm,” she decides she’ll believe it this time. She turns her attention back to you. “Don’t forget to take her to bed.”

Before he can make a joke, Robin is steadfast ready with her correction. “Don’t.” 

He gives a chuckle.

“Tuck her in, take her makeup off, be a gentleman for once.”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning being hurt by the comment. “Ouch Rob! You know I’m always a gentleman.”

She squints as she smirks. “Mhmm.” 

She waves goodbye and Steve feels that feeling again as he closes the door. One where he feels alone even though you and Abby are within close proximity. He signs deeply as he reclines his back on the door. 

He shuffles quietly to you, preparing himself to lift you as he snakes an arm under your knees and your back. With a small grunt he lifts and adjusts you, making sure you don’t hit your head on the banister or buster of the stairs. To his surprise, you don’t wake up amongst all the noise his heavier footsteps make up the stairs. 

He kicks open the guest bedroom with his foot gently, getting it to open wide enough to shuffle clumsily into the room and let you roll off of him and onto the bed with a soft bounce. 

Remembering Robin’s advice, he makes quick work of your borrowed house slippers and is careful to bring the covers laying on top of the ottoman at the foot of the bed to wrap around you. He tucks one side in under you, earning a small jump from your sleeping frame. 

Ticklish, huh? Hm. He thinks to himself.

Steve finishes up carefully, stepping into the shared bathroom within the bedroom and ruffles through the contents of some of the drawers to find those makeup wipes he’d gotten so used to seeing overnight at his place. 

Less is more. He knows by now.

Grabbing one or two wipes, he starts back to the room. He sits by your left side, careful to crane your head to face him and rub slowly and in circles for maximum effect. The cold touch of the wipes doesn’t wake you totally but you do shiver in response. He pauses for a moment, the pad of his right thumb feeling the soft yet wet skin. It’s so bare, so clean, so fresh. 

He wonders if there’s something like this but for the soul. Something that allows him a fresh start. He can only guess it’s the situation he’s in now. 

He finishes working on the other side of your face and dumps the wipes in the bin next to the bed, taking one last look at you. He shakes his head as he stands, ignoring whatever his mind or body are telling him, just as he was earlier when he had you pinned. 

The good thing about the room you were staying in is that it was just across Abby’s own, making Steve’s late night patrol easier. He stares down at the old looking translucent doorknob, his hand hesitating just for a second. He knows that as soon as he walks in it’ll cement his status here with you. A parent. A father - no - stepfather. Just a replacement. A second choice. Always a second choice, it seemed. 

Screw it. 

The mobile’s lullaby is playing a rendition of a classic children’s song and the night light is illuminating the somewhat dark room in starry shapes when he walks in. He grips the doorknob until he feels ready to tread lightly towards the crib in front of him. 

When two songs play and pass, he finally moves. Abby comes into closer view as he peers over her sleeping form. She’s splayed out like any normal sleeping baby, head turned to the right, chubby little arms and fingers above her head, little similarly chubby legs ever so often kicking at the blanket at her feet. 

Steve reaches a hand in the crib and brings the blanket back up to her waist, the action so soft and yet so slow that it wakes Abby momentarily. Her little lashes blink up at him as she yawns and stares at him for a minute. Something tells Steve to reach out a finger, so he does. She stares at it as she brings up a tiny hand to grasp it. Steve lets out a soft incredulous laugh. Abby coos as she inspects his finger, somehow finding it amusing. 

Steve feels a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. He wishes he could live in the feeling that he feels in the moment. To bottle it up and take it in small doses when reality becomes too much. When all he can feel is doubt and anxiety and stress. 

The moment fades when Abby gets tired of his finger and her lids shut. She lets out a small shuddering yawn and goes back to dreamland, the lullaby from the mobile accompanying her on her journey. Steve decides to stay there, just in case she wakes up again. He pulls up the rocking chair next to the crib and sits, keeping an eye on the way she breathes. 

He rocks gently back and forth until he feels his own eyelids start to fall, until he feels his head sulk to the side and sleep overtakes him.

[luckylexie]

Only day 1 of Junior year and I'm already stressed out 😅 (at Ponta Vedra Beach)

[luckylexie]

R.I.P summer 2k16 it's been great ☀️

[luckylexie]

Fun night but still trying to get the icing out of my hair... ._. (at Sebring, Florida)

[luckylexie]

The earth has music for those who listen. 🎧

[luckylexie]

Hey I like Abi's Pinwheel ✨

[luckylexie]

No one ever injured their eyesight by looking on the bright side in life. 🍃

[luckylexie]

When you can't find the sunshine, be the sunshine. ☀️ (at Ponta Vedra Beach)

[luckylexie]

Happy sweet 16 to this chick 🎈🎉❤️ loved the 15 minute hangout with ya (at Starbucks)

[luckylexie]

This is a bad photo but a happy memory. I love you so much Snow I'm trying my hardest to be there for you when I'm 4 hours away. You're my best friend who has always been there for me and now it's my turn. This might be a bad time but things will get better I promise. I love you my Snow flake 💙❄️ (at Sebring, Florida)

[luckylexie]

A beautiful sunset but please excuse Patrick's face 🌅

[luckylexie]

When I need you, you're there. 💖 #summer2016