Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.
Keywords/Warnings: Romance, definitely NOT slow burn, both smut and implied smut (if you’re not 18, go away), Drama, descriptive writing (more show than tell), some religious themes but not dominating (OC is Catholic), mention of hospitalization, imminent death, and missing loved one, possible inaccuracies about deployments and marine biologists.
Disclaimer: “Danger & Star, Rooster & Hope” is a work of fiction created by @thegigilwriter and is not endorsed by the original creators, producers, or any affiliated parties of TopGun and TopGun: Maverick. All characters, settings, and events portrayed in this fanfiction are purely fictional and do not reflect the views or intentions of the original creators. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the original creators' ownership of the intellectual property and intends no infringement upon their rights. This fanfiction is created for entertainment purposes only.
I DO NOT permit my work to be reposted or copied or referred to without proper citation on Tumblr or on any other platform. As a creator and writer, I believe in the integrity and respect of someone’s work and you should too. Remember, if you don’t like what you read then don’t read it. There is a difference between being critical and being disrespectful — I believe as human beings we can articulate our opinions in an appropriate manner. Thank you.
Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.
Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter
Length: 2500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
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Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon.
"Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day."
Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.
"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."
They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.
God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-
"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."
His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.
But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."
Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"
Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.
"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."
Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.
The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.
"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.
But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.
When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."
The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.
He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.
He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.
Daddy,
I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.
Love, Wren
Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.
Dad,
When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.
Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.
Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.
Love, Hawk
His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.
Bradley,
We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.
I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.
It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.
Let us know when you'll be home.
Love, Your horny wife
Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.
"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.
Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.
"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.
Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.
There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.
You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.
"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.
When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.
His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.
He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.
"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.
He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.
"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.
Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.
"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"
He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.
The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.
----------------------
Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!
You don’t need to say “She was sad.” Show me the untouched coffee gone cold. The half-written text that never gets sent. The way she laughs at a joke and then immediately looks away. People don’t announce their emotions, they live them, they try to hide them, they pretend they’re fine when they’re not. Make your readers feel it between the words.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
The fact that Bradley is an only child in everyone live aus is a shame bc goose and Carole should have a gaggle and Bradley should be the long suffering older brother who joins the navy just to get a good night sleep.
I am sorry, but who is serving this level of devastating sexiness anymore? I know that Hollywood has been favoring the pretty boys, and I love that Miles is this contrast of ruggedly handsome beauty. This man is FINE fine.
Your relationship with Bradley is new. Really new. Like, 'haven't let him smell your morning breath yet' new. But when he gets a call telling him that his mom is dying, you find yourself driving him to San Diego in the middle of the night, preparing to meet his entire extended family during the worst period of their lives. Nick and Carole live AU.
Warnings: discussions of cancer, parental death, it's very sad but also quite sweet
This fic is for the @elixirfromthestars cinema challenge! I've taken inspiration mainly from About Time (2013) - but also Elizabethtown (2005). I think they both have such beautiful depictions of grief and love persevering, so I've tried to channel that a little! Songs that offered some inspiration: Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga, Orpheus by Sara Bareilles, Rainbow by Kacey Musgraves + 🍟 for realising they're in love!
Come by the fire // Lay down your head // My love I see you're growing tired // So set the bad day by the bed // And rest a while
You consider yourself an expert on looks. First looks, last looks, and all the ones in between. They made up a relationship. Stolen glances full of longing when the other isn’t looking, anger burning during a fight when you don’t recognise the person across from you.
Whoever said the eyes were a window into the soul had it right.
First looks were easy. Almost all of them were entirely inconsequential, not meant to be remembered. The very act of remembering the first moment you lock eyes with someone was special. A sign, that for better or worse, they were going to become an important part of your life.
Your first look with Bradley had been outside a church, when your friend Hannah had married Bob Floyd. You'd been fixing your heel, having twisted the strap as you got out of the car, and looked up to find his eyes locked on you. His lips had been parted ever so slightly, shoulders broad as he stands in a perfectly tailored suit. You'd known Bob was in the Navy - you just hadn't realised his friends would look like that.
Polite smiles and introductions are exchanged before you find yourself walking down the aisle, arm laced through his.
He was a retired pilot, you learned at the party afterwards. He'd retired and moved to Los Angeles with the intention of settling down and having kids, before his girlfriend had left him for her boss. He was an instructor now, teaching the next generation to fly.
“God, I'm so sorry, you definitely don't want to be hearing about this right now-”
“No, no don't worry, it's totally okay - my last boyfriend left me for his highschool sweetheart. So I guess neither of us are really good at this.”
You don't know why you're telling him that. It was something you were normally embarrassed about, instead opting to just shrug and go ‘it wasn't meant to be’. But something about Bradley made you think he'd understand.
"He's an idiot," Bradley replies.
"Maybe I'm a complete and utter nightmare. Maybe it was totally deserved."
"I find that hard to believe." He's leaning in, and the scent of his cologne fills your atmosphere.
You smile, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. "You don't even know me."
"I'm hoping that's going to change."
You'd danced and laughed, trading stories and swapping anecdotes as the night went on, totally oblivious to the knowing looks passed between Hannah and Bob. It was no mistake that the two of you had been paired up to walk together. Everything was working out exactly as they expected it to.
The night had ended out on the patio, his jacket draped over your shoulders and his lips on yours.
Most of the sex you'd had in your life wasn't as personal as that single kiss.
Last looks were trickier. Harder to predict and pin down. There were last looks you were grateful to get - ex-friends and boyfriends who’d long overstayed their welcome in your life. Others were more painful, and left you longing for a ‘what-if’ that was never meant to be. Some, much like firsts, went by totally unnoticed, with neither of you realising that this was the end.
It was a strange understanding, the knowledge shared between two people that they would never see the other again.
You hoped your last look with Bradley wouldn't come for decades.
It’s midnight when he gets the call. You’re curled into him, arm draped over his stomach, his nose nestled in your hair. Only in his late thirties has Bradley been able to admit that often he much prefers quiet nights in with wine and a book to bustling bars and crowds.
You're more than happy to oblige, finding yourself spending more nights than not in his arms. It felt right, and natural, even though you'd only been together for a few months. A couple of your friends were less convinced.
“You’re moving too fast-”
“You’ll be sick of him before the year’s out-”
But things were good. You didn't believe in following a set schedule just because other people thought they knew how your relationship should work. You were happy, and you assumed Bradley felt the same. He’d never given any indication otherwise, even being the one to initiate a lot of the evolution of the relationship.
You’re in that sweet spot of being near enough sleep to be totally and utterly relaxed, while also still being able to enjoy the feeling of Bradley pressed up against you.
The staying over had been a new development, within the last week, when he’d make the excellent point that if you stayed over instead of driving home, you’d be doing your part to save the planet. You'd lower your carbon emissions, his place was closer to your work, and he'd already cleared out some closet space for you. The logic was unflappable.
“Mav? What’s wrong?” His voice is raspy, and he sits up, duvet pooling at his waist. “No, you didn’t wake me, it’s okay.”
The voice on the other end of the line speaks for a couple of seconds, and Bradley’s shoulders tense. It’s bad news. The kind that often precedes last looks. Your heart sinks slightly.
“How is she now?” Bradley replies, glancing over at you.
“Yeah, I can come. No, it's okay, I'll come now - should be there in a couple of hours.” A second. “I will. See you soon.”
“What's wrong?” You sit up, hand resting on his forearm.
“My mom. The cancer's spread. She was in the hospital today, just got home. Dad didn't want to worry me… but Mav thinks I should go home. Be there. He thinks it'll be a few weeks now. If we're lucky.” His voice wavers ever so slightly, but does not break.
“Oh Bradley,” You whisper. “I'm so sorry.” You'd known his mom had cancer, but you hadn't realised how severe it was. How little time she had.
“I-I need to go to San Diego,” He says, getting to his feet unsteadily. His hands are shaking, and he’s three shades paler than usual. “I’ll leave a key for you. Stay as long as you want.”
“Baby, it’s a three hour drive. You can’t do that in this state,” You murmur softly, moving to your knees as you watch him start to throw clothes into a duffel bag. “Let me take you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that-” He begins, but you cut him off.
“You aren’t. I’m offering. Just focus on packing, I'll grab some food and get the car ready.”
You can tell he wants to protest, tell you to go back to bed, but the worry wins out, and he just nods. Wordlessly, you get dressed, and head out to the car. When Bradley emerges ten minutes later, his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. You don’t know what to say, don’t know if there’s anything to say, so you just reach out, hand cupping his cheek gently. He lets out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he leans into your touch.
He’d known this would come eventually. He just hadn’t thought it would be so sudden. At her last check-up the doctors had said she was doing as well as could be expected. They thought she might have a couple of years left, if she continued on like the way she was going.
A couple of years was good. Bradley could make that work. Maybe settle down, give her a grandchild, and show her that he was happy. That is was okay for her to go. That he’d be alright without her.
He couldn’t do any of that in a few weeks.
The drive is made in near silence. Bradley stares out the window, wringing his hands together nervously as he occasionally offers commentary on the places you pass. The roads are desolate, and you’re turning onto Bradley’s parent’s road just before three.
You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Pulling up to your boyfriend’s childhood home in the middle of the night to see his dying mom wasn’t exactly how you imagined it going. The last thing they need was to meet a new girlfriend, a total stranger. Bradley potentially hasn’t even told them about you yet.
“I-I should probably get going-”
“You’re not staying?” His head snaps to yours, deep brown eyes furrowed as he frowns. “It's 3am, you can't drive back on no sleep.”
“I don’t want to impose,” You reply, twisting a ring round your finger. The last thing you want to do is make this about you. “Or add any stress, or anything. Your parents probably only want family around.”
“Honey, if my mom knew I let you drive me all the way here, and then let you turn around and head straight back in the middle of the night, she’d murder me before I even got my coat off.” Despite your nerves, despite everything, you let out a small laugh. “I’d really like you to stay. Please.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Whatever’s waiting for him inside, he’d rather face it with you.
“I didn't bring anything.”
“We can make do. I’ll buy whatever you need. Are you okay for work?”
“I have time off I can use.”
He nods, and grabs his bag from the back as you get out. He laces his fingers through yours, and takes a look up at the house that had been his home for eighteen years. There’s a light on downstairs, someone’s still awake.
Squeezing your hand, he begins the walk up the path, knocking lightly. It takes a second before it swings open, before revealing who you assume is Bradley’s dad.
They look so alike it’s almost uncanny. The man standing before you is like looking at Bradley in twenty-five years. Hair slightly thinner, a few more wrinkles, they could almost be brothers.
“Bradley,” Nick murmurs, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You should’ve waited until the morning.”
“Wanted to be with you guys,” Bradley mumbles, before pulling back slightly. “How is she?”
“Alright, all things considered. It’s spread to her lymph nodes. There’s nothing more they can do, therapy-wise. She’s sleeping now. You can go up in the morning.” He finally registers your presence behind Bradley, and straightens up. “You must be the girlfriend.” His eyes are soft, and he reaches out to pull you in for your own hug.
You tell him your name, as Bradley ushers you both inside, shutting the door behind you. “I’m so sorry about your wife, Mr Bradshaw.”
“Please, call me Nick,” He insists. He leads you both inside to the living room, where another man sits.
“Mav,” Bradley greets, as he stands. He introduces you to his godfather, and the two of you take a seat.
“How was the drive?” Maverick asks you.
“It was fine - roads were quiet.” You try your best to stifle a yawn, turning your head to look out the window.
“You’re tired,” Bradley says, voice quiet. “We can go to bed.”
You shake your head. “I’m okay,” You insist. Seeing the unconvinced expression on his face, you smile. “Promise.”
Bradley returns to his conversation with Nick and Maverick, and you try your best to stay awake, offering comments occasionally. You learn that Maverick and his wife live next door, and that Carole’s family all live nearby. Bradley has two cousins, Grace and John, who he grew up with. Grace has a toddler named Sophia, while John is getting married next year. Soon, you find your head leaning against Bradley’s shoulder, and he just feels so warm, and your eyes are so heavy-
“Your girl’s exhausted, Bradley,” Nick says softly. “Go to bed.”
“I’m okay,” You mumble, but you know you’re not fooling anyone. It’s almost four now. You considered two a late night.
“It might be a little tight, but you can stay in your old room,” Nick says, and Bradley nods as he guides you to your feet. Maverick says his goodbyes, before heading next door.
“You’ll wake me when she’s up?”
Nick nods. “Yeah, of course. Now, go get some sleep.”
Bradley’s childhood bedroom is exactly what you would’ve expected from him. Covered head to toe in plane posters, with sporting trophies lining every surface.
“My god, you were a try-hard,” You murmur, gesturing at the pile of medals hanging from the back of the door.
“I liked to win,” He shrugs, dropping his bag by the wardrobe. “You want a shirt to sleep in?”
You nod, and he tosses you an old Top Gun t-shirt.
He insists the bed’s a double, but with the way you’re lying chest to chest just to stay on, you’re not convinced. It doesn’t really matter. You could be sleeping on the world’s largest bed, and would still find a way to be as close to Bradley as possible.
Don't stop // Trying to find me here amidst the chaos // Though I know it's blinding // There's a way out // Say out loud // We will not give up on love now
The next morning you meet Maverick's wife Penny, and his stepdaughter Amelia. Bradley and Nick are up in the master bedroom catching up - it had been a while since Bradley had been home.
They’re up for about an hour, while you get to know the Mitchells, before Bradley appears in the living room. “She wants to meet you.”
“Are you- are you sure?”
“Very sure. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.” As if he can sense the nerves, he holds out a hand for you to take. He knows this must be weird for you. Going from meeting no one to his entire family in the span of twenty-four hours. But he’s glad you’re here. He has a feeling he’s going to be with you for a long time, and if now is the only time that he gets to be with you and his mom, he’ll take what he can get.
If you hadn’t known Carole Bradshaw was sick, you’re not sure you would’ve guessed. Yes, she looks tired, and yes, the bags under her eyes are probably bigger than usual, but her smile is wide and her eyes bright.
“You’re even prettier than he said you were.”
You’re positive this isn’t true. You’re wearing the jeans you had on yesterday, with one of Bradley’s shirts, and you must’ve gotten a maximum of five hours sleep last night. Pretty is not the word you’d use. Heat rises to your cheeks, as Bradley guides you to the chair beside her bed.
“It’s really lovely to meet you, Mrs Bradshaw-”
“Carole! Call me Carole, please.”
“Carole,” You repeat. You’re desperate for her to like you. The idea that you could be with Bradley for the rest of your life, and the only impression his mother has of you is when you’re running on little sleep with greasy hair is not appealing. “I really like your son.”
She laughs. “I really like him too. And he likes you. Wouldn’t shut up about you the last time he called.”
You glance at Bradley, who’s begun to look very embarrassed. “That’s an exaggeration-”
“It is not! He’s very enamoured with you, sweetheart.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“So, what do you do? He got so carried away on the phone, he didn’t tell me the basics. Just how pretty you were, and how he can't believe you'd go out with him-”
"Okay, mom, that's enough," Bradley interjects, as Carole grins.
"Just letting the girl know what she's in for!"
“I work in publishing.”
“You’re a reader?”
“As much as I can.”
“You’ll need to give me some recommendations then. I’ve been getting more reading done recently than the rest of my life combined.”
“I think I can do that.”
***
That afternoon, the extended family come round. You take it all in your stride, diligently answering questions and re-filling drinks. Sophia, his cousin’s daughter, takes a particular liking to you, opting to sit on your knee while the grownups chat.
“What do you think?” Bradley asks Nick, eyes trained on you as you crouch down to chat to little Sophia, smiling widely as she shows off her teddy bear.
“I like her more than you already,” Nick quips, throwing him a grin. Seeing Bradley’s obvious relief, he claps a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’s great. Really. Way out of your league.”
Bradley snorts. “Believe me, I know.”
“Your mom likes her too. Spent more time talking about her to Mary this afternoon than anything else.”
“Yeah?”
Nick drops his voice to a near-whisper. “I know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but you bringing her here has really made your mother so happy. All she’s ever wanted was for you to find someone - and she won’t get to meet her grandkids, but I think meeting their mother will let her go with a bit of clarity.”
Bradley almost chokes on his drink. Sure, these might have been three of the best months of his life. But it was still far too early to even consider marriage and kids. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. Not when things had been going so well. “It’s only been three months-”
“So? Who cares if you met her yesterday, or ten years ago? She wouldn't have driven you a hundred and fifty miles in the middle of the night if she wasn't committed to this thing. Your mother and I were engaged by six months, married by eight.”
He looks back at you. In such a short space of time, you'd become his whole life. On the occasions you had to sleep at your own place, due to early meetings or that time you were dog-sitting, he felt your absence like a gaping hole in his chest. You were the last thing he thought about every night, and his first thought in the morning. “I really like her,” He admits finally.
Nick Bradshaw just smiles. “We can tell.”
Don't you turn like Orpheus // Just stay here // Hold me in the dark and when the day appears // We'll say // We did not give up on love today
You manage a couple of hours of downtime before trying to make yourself useful again. You weren’t the world’s best cook - you certainly weren’t better than Bradley, but you could make a mean lasagna. And you figure the last thing the Bradshaws needed to be thinking about right now was good. So, you enlist Penny, and send Maverick out to get the extra ingredients you need.
“We can just order in, it’s no big deal,” Bradley insists, watching as you and Penny bustle about the kitchen.
“That’ll cost an absolute fortune. We’ve got it covered, right Penny?”
Penny nods, and ushers Bradley towards the door. “We’ll be done in an hour. Set the table for us, will you?”
Spirits are cheerful, despite the overhang of dread. Cousins are playing, Bradley’s serving drinks, Carole and Penny are gossiping, and you’ve found yourself beside Nick. He’s easy to talk to, and is like Bradley in so many ways it’s almost scary. He’s already broken into the baby pictures, showing you various embarrassing Bradley phases over the years.
His cowboy phase at three. His emo phase at eleven. His surfer dude phase at sixteen.
“Later on, I may tell you about Bradley's many failings as a man and as a table tennis player. But, firstly I'd like to say the one big thing - that I've only loved three men in my life. My dad was a frosty prick so that only leaves dear Maverick, Elvis Presley- obviously - and that man there.”
Across the room, Bradley’s giving Sophia a piggy-back, while simultaneously juggling four empty glasses that need cleaned up.
“He’s a good guy,” You agree, eyes soft as you watch him. “I’m really lucky.”
“I’m glad you two found each other. He struggles to let people in sometimes.”
You’d never experienced that with Bradley. From the very first meeting, it felt like you both just understood each other, in a way you’d never felt before. You told him things at Bob’s wedding that it would take you months to work up to with other people. Upon seeing your confusion, Nick laughs softly.
“Good to see he isn’t like that with you.”
Eventually, Carole begins to get tired, and everyone starts to filter out, leaving just Nick, Bradley, and you. You try to start cleaning up, but Nick and Bradley manage to distract you with a game of Monopoly at Carole’s bedside. She dominates, getting hotels on Park Lane and Mayfair that bankrup the rest of you, before you and Bradley give her some peace to get some sleep.
When Bradley emerges from his shower, you aren’t in his room. Frowning, he combs the upstairs. Nothing. Then he hears humming from the kitchen. Inside, you’re tackling the mountain of plates from lunch earlier, having barely made a dent.
“Honey, you don’t have to do that,” Bradley says, and you jump at the disturbance.
“You scared me,” You breathe, before turning back to the dishes. “And it’s fine - I just want to help.”
“I can do it in the morning,” He insists, moving behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder and wrap his arms around your waist. “You already made dinner. It’s too much.”
“You shouldn’t have to worry about dishes, or washing, or cooking right now. Let me take care of you.”
“At least let me help.”
You think for a second, before conceding. “Fine. You can dry.”
It takes another hour, but the by the end, you’re giggling like children as you flick suds of soap at him, before trying to duck out of his arms as he tickles you mercilessly.
Upstairs, Carole and Nick smile to themselves when they hear the “Bradley don’t!” mere seconds before another fit of laughter erupts.
By the time you’re ready to go to bed, Bradley’s in need of another shower, hair sticking to his forehead as his shorts drip water onto the floor.
***
“I’ll be back tonight,” You promise, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “But I really need my laptop to work from home.”
Bradley understood. He did. You were already doing far too much, arranging your work so that you could stay in San Diego with him for the time being. And yet, the idea of you being gone for even a day created a pit at the very bottom of his stomach. “Drive safe, okay? And call me when you get home. And then call me again before you leave.”
“I will.” In normal circumstances you’d laugh at his over-protectiveness, but you know he’s just worried. It’s been a hard two weeks.
Carole has had a string of bad days - bad days that are slowly beginning to outnumber the good. It won’t be too long now. Carole knows this, you know it, Nick knows it. You’re not sure Bradley’s come to terms with it yet.
You’re sitting with her that night, while the guys make dinner. You’d been covering it, but Carole had insisted they stop letting you do all the work around the house. So you’re cross-legged on a chair beside her bed, looking at some more pictures from Bradley’s childhood.
“You know, he’s never brought a girl home before,” Carole tells you, as soon as the door clicks shut behind Bradley. He’d popped up with drinks. “Not even Taylor. They were together four years, and we met her once at a wedding.”
“It’s just because I drove him here,” You reason, but Carole shakes her head.
“It’s different with you.” She goes to speak again, before breaking off in a coughing fit. You grab the glass on her bedside, passing it over. “Thanks, sweetheart. And thank you for being here.”
“It’s no problem, really. I’d do anything for him.”
“I know. And I’m glad it’s you. I was so worried about leaving him. He’s always been sensitive. I think you’ll make it a little easier on him.”
You don't know what to say, voice catching in your throat. Instead, you reach out and take her hand.
***
“Please Nick, I'm not dead yet. Penny can come. It’ll be fine.” Carole rolls her eyes, and you know Nick isn't winning this one.
It was the latest argument. Nick and Carole had decided to renew their vows at the Hard Deck, just for closest friends and family. The guys had their suits, but you, Carole and Penny didn't have a dress. Carole wanted to go shopping, Nick thought it was a bad idea. The final compromise was going to one shop, and making Carole stay off her feet as much as possible.
You knew despite Carole's insistence that she was happy with whatever, that you didn’t want to make her walk far. So you set up shop in a local store, Carole and Penny each picking their own dress first.
You try a couple on, eventually landing on a pale yellow maxi dress, patterned with flowers. Just as you’re about to get changed back into your clothes, Carole appears in the dressing room.
“If this is weird and inappropriate, please tell me,” Carole insists, as she steps towards you with a dress bag. “But uh- I never got to have a daughter. Nick and I, we tried for a while to give Bradley a sibling, but it never worked out.” She clears her throat, voice thick as she continues. “And I always hoped that I’d be able to go dress-shopping with whoever Bradley chose to marry. I know that the two of you haven’t been together long, but-but…”
She trails off, and you nod, eyes shining. “I would really love to have you as a mother-in-law,” You whisper.
You step out of the dressing room, breath bated as you look in the mirror. The dress is gorgeous, hugging your curves in all the right places, the cut making you look taller than you are. You’ve never worn a wedding dress before.
She’s wiping her eyes before she even sees you. “Oh honey, you look stunning,” She breathes. "You'll make a beautiful bride someday."
The tears are streaming freely now, and you hug her tightly. "I wish I'd met him earlier."
"Me too. But it's okay. When it happens, it'll be wonderful."
I'll show you good // Restore your faith // I'll try and somehow make a meaning of the poison in this place // Convince you love, don't breathe it in // You were written in the stars that we are swimming in
The ceremony's beautiful. If you and Bradley can have half the relationship his parents share, you'll be doing a whole lot better than most people.
Maverick officiates, and Bradley is designated ring-bearer, despite his protests.
"Why can't Amelia do it? Or Sophia? The literal child?"
"It's funnier making you do it-"
“Time for pictures!” Penny announces, grabbing her camera from the counter. “Bradshaw family up first!”
You smile as Bradley fakes a dramatic sigh, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he passes. Nick and Bradley stand on either side of Carole, arms wrapped round her waist as they lean in. You zone out slightly, snapping back to reality when you hear Carole calling your name. “Wait! That’s not everyone!”
If you weren’t already close to tears, this'll do it. “Oh, no-” You begin, but she’s already cutting you off.
“You’ll be family soon enough, sweetheart,” She calls, gesturing forwards. You glance at Bradley, nod wanting to overstep, and get to your feet when he nods. You know the rule for partners - unless it’s serious, they don’t get in the family photos.
Bradley reaches out, looping his arm round you to pull you in tightly.
Penny takes pictures of every possible configuration of people. You and Bradley, Nick and Maverick, Carole and Sophia, before getting one of the bartenders to get a group shot.
***
“Listen, if what my mom said was too much, I totally get that,” Bradley murmurs into your ear as you sway gently in time to Bruce Springsteen’s I’m On Fire wafting from the jukebox. “She gets ahead of herself at the best of times, nevermind… nevermind now.”
Carole Bradshaw will never get to meet her grandchildren. If you and Bradley get married, she won’t be at the wedding. If, god forbid, you aren’t it for him, she’ll never know his wife. She won’t get to see him turn forty, or celebrate her fortieth wedding anniversary. It’s an awful finality that he can’t allow himself to think about too much.
“It wasn’t too much,” You reply, voice soft. “I love your family.”
“I love you.”
It slips out before he can even register what he's saying. Truthfully, he's known he loved you since you dropped everything to be with him here. But thinking and saying are very different things.
Your reply is instantaneous. “I love you too.” You don't need to think about it. Because you do. You love Bradley Bradshaw in a big and scary way.
You love how he spends his Saturdays giving free lessons to people who can't afford it, simply because he thinks everyone should have a chance to learn.
You love that when the anniversary of your grandma's death had come round last month, he'd turned up on your doorstep with flowers and chocolates before his shift, even though his work was at the opposite end of the city from your house.
You love the fact that he talks in his sleep - mostly about aircrafts and flying, a language you don't understand at all. Mumbling about F-18s and Mach numbers as his arms tighten around you.
You love that underneath the tough exterior, he’s the softest man you've ever met. That even though the idea terrifies him, you know he'll be a wonderful father one day.
You love him. You think that maybe you've loved him since the moment you saw him.
“You don't have to say it just because my mom's dying.”
“I'm not. I'd say it even if your dad was hideous and your mom hated me, and they were all massive Republicans. I love you.”
***
“They look like you guys,” Maverick muses, as you and Bradley move round the dance floor, totally engrossed in each other.
“I hope you mean that as a compliment,” Nick replies, raising an eyebrow as he takes his wife's hand.
“Of course it's a compliment,” Maverick scoffs. “You guys found your person younger than most, and still managed to make it work. Took me fifty years to get my act together.”
“Bradley’s nearly forty, he wasn’t far behind you,” Nick snorts, and Carole swats at him.
“That wasn’t his fault! He was ready to settle down, and Taylor pulled the rug out from under him.”
“It worked out for the best. He looks happier now than he ever did with Taylor.”
"You guys better get absolutely hammered at their wedding for me."
"I think we can handle that," Maverick assures her.
That was the last good day. It was like she'd said her goodbyes, made her peace with leaving. She's admitted to the hospital on Monday with chest pain, and dies on Thursday.
She goes holding Bradley's hand, while Nick sits on her other side. For all intents and purposes, it is a peaceful death.
It has no name // No guarantee // It's just the promise of a day // I know that some may never see // But that's enough // If the bottom drops out // I hope my love was someone else's solid ground
Nick Bradshaw stands alone at the entrance to the church, greeting every single guest by name. Even when they get well into the hundreds, he treats their grief with a delicacy you'd never expect from a new widower.
You don’t think you’d be able to harness that amount of grace if you were in his position. You stand with Bradley, hand clutched tightly in his. His eyes are fixed firmly on the coffin, only pulling them away to acknowledge the mourners who approach him.
It feels like the entire city of San Diego has come out to mourn Carole Bradshaw. The church is filled to the brim, with people spilling onto the street outside. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such an outpouring of love for one person.
You manage to hold it together until the opening chords of Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down ring out. Bradley’s arm snakes round your waist, and a choked sob escapes as he buries his face in your hair.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” You cry, pulling him in tighter.
Nick knew his wife better than anybody in the world - she wouldn't have wanted everyone to be miserable. She wanted her funeral to be a celebration of life, not death.
So his eulogy is full of their best moments - from embarrassing to heartfelt. When she went into labour with Bradley while Nick was in the air, and Maverick had to be sent to get him down. Nick arrived at the hospital as Bradley was crowning. It had taken him a while to make it up to her for that one.
When she almost got them all arrested in Italy by driving on the wrong side of the road.
Their first wedding - when she'd been an hour late to her own reception because she overslept.
Her love for really awful karaoke. Her love for her family, friends, husband, son.
Carole Bradshaw lived a good life. And that was nothing to be sad about.
“How are you handling this so well?” Bradley asks his dad, as the three of you walk towards the car to head to the reception.
“I'm not - not really. I’m fucking furious, and so uninterested in a life without your mother. But I also know she'd punch me for even thinking that.”
For the first time in a long time, Bradley laughs. “She’d tell you to grow up and get on with it.”
“And so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna mope for a couple of weeks, and then I’m getting a dog. And I’m gonna call it Goose.”
“You’re naming the dog after yourself?”
“Hey, your mother was the brains of the relationship, not me.”
***
“Can we- can we go for a drive?” Bradley asks the next day, and you nod.
“Of course.”
The drive doesn’t take long. A couple of miles up the coast, before he’s pulling into a lookout spot. It’s incredible, the view over the ocean. “My mom used to bring me here, to watch my dad fly,” Bradley murmurs, as he leads you over to the railing. He gestures out towards the island in the distance. “He was based there for a while. So was I, when I served.”
There aren’t any planes out today, but the sky is the bluest blue you’ve ever seen, not a cloud in sight. Bradley has to think that somehow, his mom is here, watching over you both.
“I think I've been asleep most of my life,” He admits.
“Me too.”
“I don't want that anymore. Being scared, of not taking any risks. I don't want to have any regrets."
"We've got time," You murmur. "We're still in our thirties. Basically still teenagers. Your twenties are just a practice run anyway."
"Yeah," He replies softly. "We've got time."
His mom's ring nearly burns a hole in his pocket.
“Not for today, not for tomorrow, but soon, okay?” She'd whispered, slipping it into his hand, smiling softly as her breathing grew laboured.
“Yeah, mom. Soon.”
a/n - thank you so much for reading!! I really love this one-shot, and I've never written Carole and Nick before. Thank you to Mel for hosting the challenge, I had a lot of fun taking inspiration from the movies!
If I ask nicely will people reblog this and tell me what their most common breakfast is? Not your favorite necessarily, just what you have for breakfast most frequently? 🙏🏽
