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sunlightmurdock · 4 months

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The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #the parent trap #parent trap #parent trap Bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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boys4breakfest · 1 year

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It’s a constant battle

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ava5225 · 2 months

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A remake when... 🤭

#jason sudeikis #hannah waddingham #parent trap #suddingham

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blanchettblue · 7 months

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we love how she’s self aware

#mother of lesbians #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #parent trap

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haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 6 months

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#movies #polls #the parent trap #parent trap #90s movies #nancy meyers #disney #lindsay lohan #dennis quaid #requested #have you seen this movie poll

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theycallme-thejackal · 7 months

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ELAINE HENDRIX as MEREDITH BLAKE in THE PARENT TRAP (1998) @pscentral event 20: antagonists

#pscentral #elaine hendrix #meredith blake #the parent trap #parent trap #jackal edits

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classycookiexo · 8 days

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Fr though

#lindsay lohan #meredith blake #parent trap

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yen-sids-tournament · 2 months

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The Parent Trap: Hayley Mills (1961) v Lindsay Lohan (1998)

You do not have to see both to vote, but it might have been helpful.

Feel free to share opinions or explanations with comments/tags/rbs

#original or remake #yen sids poll #parent trap #lindsay lohan #hayley mills #dennis quaid #natasha richardson #elaine hendrix #joanna barnes #brian keith #maureen o'hara #disney #disney movies #disney live action #if you didn't get it: hayley is the og and lindsay is the remake

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sweetbottletops · 2 months

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@ chihikwi [x]

#parent trap #movies #かわいちひろさん

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trashland-llamas · 1 year

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It can be cruel, poetic, or blind. But when it's denied, it's violence you may find.

Justice

— — —

The Batman // Glass Onion // Cars 2 // Theodore Roosevelt // Goonies // Jumanji Reboot // Scooby Doo // Danni Sanders // Hercules Poirot // Mr. Rogers // Foghorn Leghorn // Parent Trap // Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

#web weaving #glass onion #the batman #the goonies #jumanji #scooby doo #not okay #agatha christie #cars 2 #mr rogers #looney tunes #parent trap #theodore roosevelt #charlie and the chocolate factory

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Parent Trap | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, struggles during breastfeeding, Jake Seresin cameo, flashback indicated by italics

“Bradley, I am so sorry — I don’t know what happened, one minute they were—“

“It’s not your fault.” Bradley’s much calmer than the rambling college student in his hallway is. She’s grabbing onto his arm, practically tugging at his sleeve. Exhasperated, Bradley finally turns his attention towards her and shrugs. “Sorry that they scared you. They’re just… going through something right now, I dunno.”

Her smile is soft, understanding as she trails her fingers along the back side of his bicep and gives an eager nod of her head. She leans just a little bit closer, brushing shoulders with him. His brows furrow slightly as he inhales, “You smell good. Do you always wear that perfume?” He hadn’t noticed it before.

She soars, beaming at him immediately and shaking her head as she leans closer to him again, “No, just sometimes.”

Special occasions and such, like coming over here.

He nods, then digs his hand into his pocket. “It’s nice,” Rooster pulls open the leather wallet and hands her a hundred — a reasonable tip after what the girls put her through. “Thanks. Don’t know what I’d do without you, kid.”

She winces, fingers trailing along the inside of his forearm, not for a moment discouraged. “Call me any time, Bradley. I mean it.”

Then, she turns and sways her hips as she walks back to her own place next door. You squint as you rest your elbow on the passenger side doorframe, “She’s so trying to fuck him.”

“So?” Chris prompts at your side. You turn your head towards him and he smiles, giving your knee a playful squeeze.

Bradley waits until she’s inside and heads over to Chris’ truck. “They’re in bed. Told ‘em they’re grounded, I’m thinking two days — since they didn’t actually leave the house or anything.”

“Got it, freedom on Tuesday. Sorry for biting your head off about losing them.” You reply sheepishly, glancing back towards the babysitter’s house as the bedroom light turns on upstairs. She stands in front of the window and unzips the back of her dress, making your eyes widen slightly.

“Already forgotten. Thanks for tonight, it was fun — and good meeting you, Chris. You two get home safe.” Bradley walks back slowly and gives you both a polite wave, then turns and heads back inside. Your kids and no supervision is not a combination that works.

Chris pulls away from the curve and rests his hand against your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You two are good at this whole co-parenting thing, I’ve never seen exes agree on stuff as much as you do.”

Shutting the front door behind him and putting the electronics on top of the kitchen cabinet so that his whirlwind kids won’t be able to find them, Bradley checks their room quickly before he heads to bed himself.

The next morning, Parker’s up first, sitting at the end of the couch and shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth while Teen Titans plays in front of her. Bradley rubs tiredly at his eyes, blinking the sleep from them as he strolls pasts her and aims, half-awake, for the kitchen.

“Morning, Peanut.” Bradley mumbles, shorts loose around his waist, a size too big now. He isn’t too sure what size he wears these days. She hums in acknowledgment, mouth too full to answer him properly.

He exhales slowly and rolls his shoulders back, closing his eyes just briefly about halfway through the stretch. In that split-second, the outstretched, manicured hand of a Malibu Barbie cuts into the middle of his foot and makes him wince.

“Ah, fu— god, Parks, what have I told you about these toys?” Bradley winces, hopping on one foot and bending his leg to check that her plastic fingers didn’t actually tear open the sole of his foot.

She gulps down the soggy cereal and shrugs without looking up from the TV screen. “Sorry, Dad.”

Auto-pilot takes care of making the morning coffee, Bradley stretches out his neck and leans against the countertop. He brings the cup up to his mouth and takes a sip, not as sweet as you used to make it — he still doesn’t know what you put in it to make it taste like that.

It’s sunny outside today, a warm and bright Sunday morning. Payton still sound asleep upstairs, Parker having already been up for about an hour and finishing her second bowl of cereal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Other than the coffee. Other than you, waking up in another place, in another man’s arms.

The thought lingers with him as he sips his morning coffee. Sundays were always sacred in your home. Not in the sense that you were dragging everyone out of bed an into church at the first sign of light, just that they were yours. Yours and his, and the kids. Warm Sunday mornings, four of you in bed and usually a tiny foot digging into Bradley’s ribs or his shoulder hanging off the bed.

You always made a point of doing something with the kids on days like that. Picnics in the garden, trips down to the beach or the museum, sometimes the park. Setting his mug down on the counter top, he turns his head away from the window and walking back towards the living room.

As he does, Payton wanders into the living room with her hair a mess and her arms stretched out over her head. “Morning, Daddy.”

“Morning, Honeybee,” Bradley answers, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms over his chest. “How do you two troublemakers feel like going to the aquarium today?”

Parker looks up as her sister settles down onto the couch at her side, “Aren’t we grounded?” Peyton elbows her for reminding him. Bradley’s lips quirk softly. He gives a small shrug of his shoulders.

“You are, but why should my weekend suck just because you two decided to practice your disappearing act?”

A quick glance between the two of them, and their faces light up. Recognition in each of their faces, they know what this is. Peyton beams at her father, “Can we invite Grandpa Mav?”

You wake up on your front, your cheek smushed up against warm, soft skin. You must have stirred before consciousness actually comes for you, because Chris is already wrapping his arms around your middle and kissing the top of your head.

“Mornin’,” His voice is deep and gravelly from sleep, his calloused palm smoothing along the length of your spine. “Did you sleep alright?”

You should have. The perfect buzz on from dinner, a long day before that and great sex after it — you should’ve slept deep and dreamlessly. You hope, for a second, that it had least appeared that way.

“You were tossing and turning all night.” Chris adds, concern and humour in his tone at once. You swallow softly and lift your head from his shoulder, lips quirked into a pleasant smile.

“Yeah, was just having a nice dream.” You answer quietly. He grins at you. The assumption, of course, is that he was in your dream. It’s a fair assumption to make, after the night that the two of you had shared. Guilt sits in the pit of your stomach as you trail your fingers along his stubbled jaw.

It’s nothing to feel guilty about. Your dream had been nice, those memories were nice. The twins’ third birthday party. After the mischief last night, it had just been on your mind — the first time they had tried to trade places, for no reason other than to see if you would notice. Troublemakers from the very start.

Like it was yesterday, you remember their crumb-covered, cubby cheeks and their screeching giggles — their friendship. God, that was a fun year, watching them teach each other and talk. It was the first time that it finally felt like it might not have been too much.

Growing like weeds, they needed new shoes almost every months and their speech was coming along like wildfire.

You step under the warm stream of water that pours from the shower head, letting it warm your skin. Chris already gone to catch up on an upcoming project for work, you’ve got the place to yourself to sit and reminisce. You catch sight of the bathroom countertop, just briefly before your eyes are closed and your head is tipped back to let the water soak your hair.

“I just mean… don’t you miss them being that tiny? — all those cuddles, and all the firsts.” Your legs kicked against the counter, arms braced against the top and your head tilted. That head tilt is code for ‘I want something’ — Bradley knew this by then.

“And the diapers, the puking, the— what?” His lips had quirked slightly, brows scrunching as he patted the leftover shaving cream from his face. He studied your gaze through the mirror. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You exhale softly and lather shampoo between your palms. That had been such a fantastic day.

You hopped down from the counter and pressed yourself against his back, cheek resting against the swell of his bicep as you peered at him through the mirror. Smoothing your fingers softly over his tanned skin, admiring his shirtless form, you reminded yourself to speak before the notion could slip your mind immediately.

It’s easy to get distracted when you’re studying Bradley like that.

“Well, I was just thinking,” you kissed his arm, right below his shoulder, tenderly and brushed your cheek against his freckled skin. Bradley caught on quickly, face contorting in realization before you even spoke. “Would another one really be such a bad thing?”

Rooster watched as you nuzzled into him, pressing yourself more firmly against his back and working delicate kisses along his broad shoulders. Like he even needed convincing.

“One was the plan last time.” He had reminded you, resting his palms against the counter top, lips quirking up into an amused smile as you kissed the contours of his bicep.

“My uterus and I are in agreement, no twins this time.”

You still chuckle at that one now, tipping your head back to rinse the suds from your hair. His smile, peering back at you through the mirror, lingers on the insides of your eyelids so long that you’re surprised to find him not there when you open him. Blurry condensation in his place.

“Well, I mean — if you guys have already agreed on it,” He had given his shoulders a soft shrug, lips hinting at a smile for just a moment before he broke out into a full grin. “Then who am I to get in the way of that?”

You had gasped as he pulls you from behind him and planted you on the bathroom counter, catching hold of your knees. Bracketing them on either side of his hips, he tugged you to the edge of the surface and grinded himself against you through the thin cover of his plaid pyjama pants.

“Really? — You want another one?”

“Can’t pretend that I haven’t thought about it,” Bradley admitted, already cupping your neck with his palm and kissing warmly at your exposed skin.

The feeling of his mouth, his mustache, on your neck is still something that makes you shiver now. Leaning in to that feeling is surely hardwired into your DNA at this point; just a genetic response.

“You gotta remember how hard it was for me to keep my hands off of you when you were pregnant, though? — You gonna put me through that again, honey?” Bradley had teased, nipping playfully at your earlobe and pressing his chest into yours. Smelling of peppermint and shaving foam, clean from the shower and curls still wet. You had smoothed your hands along the length of his back and grinned.

“I think you can handle it, big guy.”

You swallow softly and wipe the water from your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Unsure of exactly which, you take a moment to figure out what variation of hormones could be causing you to vividly remember that day with Bradley on a random Sunday morning, two years after your divorce.

More specifically — that sex with Bradley. It was always good with Bradley, he was always such a good listener and he was experienced even before you came across him, but he really settled into his sexuality after he met you. You haven’t quite gotten to that place with Chris, just yet. Maybe that’s it.

The sex with Chris is good too, it gets you there and you’d happily keep on doing it, but your relationship is still in the early stages. And truthfully, you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever trust someone the way you trusted Bradley. First loves and such.

Standing under the shower spray until you’re pruned and your hair routine is finished, your ex-husband haunts your thoughts for the rest of your morning. You smooth a palm along the countertop as you pass by it in your towel.

“One of his tentacles is shorter than the other.” Maverick comments as he peers forwards at the wriggling Octopus at the bottom of the enclosure.

“Yeah, that’s it’s weenie.” Peyton answers with a grin. Bradley taps the back of her shoulder and frowns disapprovingly. “Sorry. Penis.”

“It’s not a penis, it’s an arm — it’s called a hec-toh… hecto-coh— it’s this.” Parker points at the sign in front of the enclosure, and the long word that has her a little bit stuck.

“Wait, what? — I thought they laid eggs.” Maverick’s frown deepens, blue eyes widening as he leans down and squints to read. His reading glasses as hidden behind the books on Penny’s bookcase; he’ll wear them when hell freezes over.

“Dad, can we go in the tunnel to see the seals?” Peyton spins and looks up at him expectantly, freckled cheeks and a puppy-dog glint in her wide eyes. Bradley nods at them calmly.

“Yeah, but come back when I call you and stick together, alright?”

He watches her grab her sister’s hand and the two of them sprint off towards the viewing tunnel together. Maverick glances sideways. Bradley’s a better father than he ever could have hoped to have been. Pete remembers being so terrified when he found out that Bradley was expecting, this awful, itching feeling that he would have ruined Bradley and that Bradley would do the same to his own family.

But he hadn’t. Bradley had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water. Maybe he was even a better parent than he was an aviator.

“So, how was your date with the ex-wife?” Maverick asks playfully, still eyeing the octopus with a certain level of doubt as the two of them move on. Bradley chuckles dryly and shakes his head, then pauses.

“How did you know that she and I went out last night?”

“The kids told me, I guess they overheard.” He covers quickly. Years of lying to admirals about his escapades come in handy even now that he is retired.

“Shit,” Bradley leans his head back and watches a stingray pass over his head. Bathed in blue light, he turns his attention back towards Mav. “That’s why they messed with the babysitter.”

Maverick walks beside the boy that he had tried his best with silently, letting Bradley explain all of the trouble that the girls have caused recently. Biting the inside of his cheek silently, Maverick doesn’t say a word.

They have been here before; Maverick sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong and making things worse. But, the chance to fix all of that and make up for his previous mistakes still sits right in front of him.

“Was it nice hanging out again, though?” Maverick checks, as calm as his voice will let him sound. “Y’know — without the kids.”

“Sure, I guess. Her boyfriend was nice, and stuff.”

“Nice enough to be living with your kids one day?” It’s out of his mouth and echoing in Bradley’s head before Pete really has a chance to consider how petty and immature it is to say. Bradley stops walking and turns his head to look at Maverick. Maverick stares right back, trying to read Bradley’s face.

Bradley swallows softly. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Marriage, his kids having a stepfather — fuck, you maybe having another kid with this guy. Changes to custody, family vacations, him: alone.

It’s not an immediate ‘yes, he’s good enough’, and that gives Mav all of the confirmation that he’s looking for. He smiles and walks off ahead to find the girls.

…

@raisehailpraisedale

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #parent trap #parent trap bradley

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fandom-friday · 2 months

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The Bat Trap by Threee

I loved how attention grabbing it was by making Damian and Danny meet through a summer camp and discovering their relation to each other through context clues then proceeding to confuse everyone and trick them.

I sent the fic in your DM's

As someone that LOVED The Parent Trap growing up, this is very much piquing my interest. I also am always down for a good crossover fic, and having Danny and Damian be twins? It promises chaos and ups and downs and EVERYTHING. Thanks so much for sending this in (and thank you for getting me the link!).

Link

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #crossover au #batman #danny phantom #batman x danny phantom au #danny fenton #damian wayne #jazz fenton #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #parent trap

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shslbunnylover · 4 months

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i loved the chessy story you wrote for christmas so much that i wanted to request another chessy x reader. where it’s their first christmas together as a couple and they both wanna make it special for each other. LOTS OF FLUFF PLEASE and maybe some teasing from both ends.

★★★𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 12: 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨)★★★

Character: Chessy

Requester: Anonymous

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): References to sex, sexual teasing/flirting

Genre: Fluff

A/n: And that's a wrap! (Haha, see what I did there 😝) Merry Christmas everyone!!

Word count: 1.3k

...

Ever since Annie and Hallie were reunited, Christmas was somehow more chaotic at the Parker household. You loved the holidays, there was no doubt about that, and you were always dancing to Christmas music and decked out in Christmas clothes every second from Black Friday through New Year's. But one person in particular made your Christmas even more magical for you, Chessy, the housekeeper at the Parker residence.

The two of you got together in Mid-Spring of that year, and you were determined to make it as special as possible for the woman, as she had already made it as good for you as possible.

"Hallie! Annie! You know Santa's still watching!" You exclaimed as the girls ran past you, trying to set up traps for Santa like the two did every year in their separate households, but they were now a united force.

"Y/n! He's busy delivering stuff on the other side of the world! He's too busy to watch us!" Hallie called out, causing you to laugh.

"Touche..." You shrugged your shoulders, continuing to do the dishes.

"You know you don't have to do my job for me, right?" Chessy asked, walking up to you with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

"I'm not driving Elizabeth anywhere until they all go to church tonight, might as well help you out. It gets the job done quicker," You leaned back to place a kiss on her cheek before drying off the last dish and putting it in the cabinet.

"I guess so," The redhead rested her head on your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your waist. "Can't believe it's already Christmas Eve,"

"Huh, I wasn't aware of that," You nudged her slightly with a laugh, referring to the girls who were freaking out.

"What'd you get them?" Chessy whispered in your ear, making sure the girls couldn't listen in.

"I got them custom saddles, what about you?" You replied,

"Well, the little rascals wouldn't tell me, so I got Hallie a bag to hold Cuppy in, and I got Annie a new fencing helmet since hers broke," The aquamarine-eyed woman smiled.

"Now the question is, what did you get me?" You turned around, poking her boob with a laugh.

"Maybe I didn't get you anything~ You've been quite naughty~" Chessy teased.

You blushed furiously, going to reply before being cut off by Hallie standing across from you.

"Chessy and Y/n, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!" The girl smirked.

"Hallie, please," Annie rolled her eyes. "They've been like this forever, don't act all surprised," She walked up to her twin.

"It's still fun as h- heck," Hallie corrected herself, pursing her lips together out of nervousness before dashing off, Annie following slowly behind her.

You looked back at your girlfriend, leaning your head back in exasperation before burying your face in her shoulder.

"They'll never leave us alone, will they?" You asked.

"Nope, have you met them?" Chessy replied, her hand falling to your ass, squeezing it slightly and electing a squeak from you.

"And you say I'm naughty..." You grumbled, forcing your face deeper into her.

"We're gonna catch him Y/n! I just know it!" Hallie beamed as she laid down on her bed, holding cuppy to her body whilst Annie was already asleep. "Tell them Chessy!"

Chessy looked at you, then back at the young girl.

"You know Santa prepares for the things all year, I don't think you can catch him," She shrugged her shoulders with a laugh.

"Even if I don't catch him, I'm still gonna hear him!"

You tucked Hallie into the bed, tickling her softly before kissing her on the forehead.

"We'll see, tell us about it when you get up at a reasonable time tomorrow," You chuckled.

Hallie nodded, quickly shutting her eyes as the two of you walked out.

"You've got the gifts?" You turned to face your girlfriend once you were out of hearing distance.

"You know it," Chessy winked, pulling a giant red bag out from a nearby closet.

"How do they afford this?" You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

"Have you seen their businesses?" The auburn-haired woman replied.

The next morning you were both woken up by the girls shaking you, and you groggily pulled yourselves out of your comfortable bed provided to you by the Parkers.

"I said reasonable girls," You groaned, rubbing your eyes as your other hand held Chessy's.

"It's 8! That's reasonable!" Hallie beamed, running down the stairs to the Christmas tree, and dragging Annie along with her.

"Is it?" Chessy replied, waving a good morning to Elizabeth and Nick who were standing in the kitchen, getting their morning coffee.

"Mom! Dad! Look! Santa came!" The twins exclaimed at the same time, running up to the four of you to drag you towards the tree.

Once the girls had opened all of their presents and began to play with them, you decided that it was time to give Chessy her Christmas present.

"I thought you were nice enough to me this year, so here's this," You smirked, handing the redhead a small box.

"Aw, thank you Y/n," Chessy smiled, taking the box in her hands and slowly unwrapping it, revealing a diamond necklace with an infinity symbol engrained in the front.

"It's a promise necklace, I didn't want to get you a ring because it might mess with your work, but I knew a necklace wouldn't!" You beamed, waiting for her response.

"It's...It's gorgeous, h-how did you-"

"Don't worry about that Chess, all that matters is that you like it," You reassured her, placing your hand on the side of her face.

"Thank you Y/n," Chessy whispered, hugging you tightly, pressing a kiss to your lips once she was done.

"I'd prefer to see you wearing just the necklace though..." You teased, your hand falling to her covered bra and tugging it secretly.

"That'll go perfectly with the Christmas present I got you," The redhead winked. "But in all seriousness, thank you Y/n,"

Your smirk softened into a smile, and you pulled her into a kiss, the both of you ignoring the squeals from the twins.

"Merry Christmas Chess,"

"Merry Christmas Y/n,"

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira

#chessy x reader #chessy #the parent trap #parent trap #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #wlw #wlw ns/fw #nblw #nblw ns/fw #wlw and nblw only #fluff #12 days of fluffmas #12 days of ficmas #Akira writes #christmas #<3

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