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Summary: Bradley would never forgive himself if you got hurt. It feels like he's been biding his time for ages, and his patience has worn thin. When Maverick returns to base, things finally start to change, but in whose favor?
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
You settled on the couch with the new ultrasound photos from our appointment on Monday, eager to show them to your parents. But Bradley had other ideas.
"Roo," you hissed, pulling his hand away from your chest while you looked at your reflection on the iPad screen. "Knock it off."
"I'm horny," he whispered against your neck. You could hear the whine in his voice. He'd been very understanding when you told him that you needed to work late the past few days to help Cat, especially after you explained that she was bogged down with extra work because of Indigo. But now he was pouting on the couch with his other hand slipping into the back of your leggings while the call to your parents connected.
Your mom's voice rang out as Bradley grabbed your butt. "Hi!"
"Hi, Mom!" you replied, voice entirely too peppy as you tried to scoot away from your husband. You shot him a glare as he smirked and finally folded his hands in his lap. "How's packing going?"
"Oh, it's so stressful," she complained, going into a rant about all of the bins of things she'd been saving since you were a kid. You let her ramble, knowing she was secretly excited to be able to let Rose and the second baby play with your old toys someday after they moved to Coronado. Bradley and your dad sat quietly until your mom took a deep breath and asked, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"
Now you felt like pouting. They would be moved into their new house in time for Christmas but not Thanksgiving. "Probably making dinner for our friends. Just hanging out with everyone here," you told her with a shrug.
"No."
You turned to look at Bradley who was shaking his head.Â
"What do you mean no?" you asked. "Are you going to cook Thanksgiving dinner for everyone? Your kitchen skills are much improved, Roo, but that seems a bit ambitious."
Bradley snorted and leaned in to kiss your cheek. "You're not cooking. I'm not cooking. We won't even be here, Baby Girl," he whispered. Then he turned to face the iPad. "I'm taking my girls away for an anniversary trip. We'll be gone that weekend."
Your mom looked like she was going to swoon. "Really?" you asked, letting his hand creep up your thigh toward your belly. "We're going away?"
Bradley's eyes held innocence as he grinned. "Yeah. Don't you remember when I asked you just the other day if you'd prefer the mountains or the lake?"
"Oh," you whispered. You did remember. He had been fingering you at the time, your pussy slick and full of his cum. When your cheeks grew warm, you realized you did not want to have the rest of this conversation with your parents listening in. "Yes, I do recall that, actually." You cleared your throat. "We should let you go. It's late."
"But we didn't get to talk to Rose!" your dad complained.
"She's still taking her after-dinner nap," you told him apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow! Love you!"
When you ended the call, Bradley was already tugging on your shirt. "Please," he murmured. "I'm so horny. I'll do anything you want. On the couch, in bed, in the shower, anything you want, Sweetheart."
"I want you to tell me where we're going, Roo," you replied sweetly as he pulled your shirt over your head and palmed your breasts through your sports bra. It was a wonder he could get hard right now after he'd seen you wearing your maternity tent less than an hour ago.
"Mountains," he grunted, pulling you closer.
You knew he was planning something, but you didn't know it was already worked out. "I'm impressed," you told him as you carefully removed your bra. "You did this all by yourself?"
"Nothing's too good for my girls." His voice was raspy, already fading into the silent room as he eased you onto his lap. You fed Rose not terribly long ago. You were tired. Your breasts weren't very perky at the moment. But Bradley moaned as soon as his lips met your nipple. His cock was hard against your thigh as you settled in.
With his big hand splayed along the side of your growing bump, you let him get his fill of rubbing his nose and mustache all over your chest. Your back arched as he started grinding his hips up to yours.
"Does this mean we can get nasty on the couch?" he whispered, flashing his brown eyes up to yours. When you giggled, he added, "It's been days." Part of you wanted to tell him that your back hurt and you couldn't handle getting twisted into a pretzel right now, but you slid down to the floor between his legs, his eyes tracking your every move. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, a little grin finding his lips as you tugged on the waistband of his gym shorts.
"Stop acting like you don't know I'm about to suck your dick," you whispered, trying not to laugh as his cock bobbed out from his underwear.
A soft sound at the back of his throat spurred you on. He simultaneously scooted his hips closer to you while he settled back against the couch. "I didn't want to assume," he murmured, eyes wide as you took him between your parted lips. "Fuck. I'm so spoiled."
You hummed your response around his cock which had his head tipping back as he reached for your face. Big, calloused fingers brushed along your cheek before trailing to the back of your head. You controlled the pace, but that bit of pressure from his excited hand made you suck a little harder just to hear his appreciation.
Long, languid strokes had Bradley's restraint slipping. After he tapped the back of your throat his hips rose incrementally from the couch. When your tongue circled his tip, his hips were up again. He was eager to cum, so you slowed your pace.
"Jesus," he whimpered, balls tightening as you sucked on them. You could feel your saliva drip down his cock to your face as you ran your tongue in circles. "Keep this up, and you'll never not be pregnant, Sweetheart."
Before you could react, Bradley was pulling you to your feet, careful not to be too rough. He yanked your leggings down and guided you back to his lap.
He was big and thick, but your body welcomed him as he filled your pussy. "You're getting a vasectomy after this one, Roo."
He gasped, whether from your words or from the way your pussy was already squeezing around him with need, you weren't sure. You wanted to reiterate that two kids was plenty for you and he to handle, but his palm met your butt, guiding you in a slow roll that erased all thoughts from your brain.
"We'll talk about that later," he crooned, kissing your lips softly. "Right now, I want you to think about how bad you need me." You moaned in spite of yourself at his cocky words. "I want you to think about how good Daddy takes care of his girls."
"Oh, god," you whimpered, bouncing on his cock. "You do. You do," you babbled. One swipe of his finger along your clit, and you were seeing stars. Hadn't he been the one begging for this? How did you become the needy one right now? "Fuck!"
You were panting as he guided you along, taking you for everything you had until your face was buried against his neck to quiet yourself as you came. He knew what to do, and he was too good at it, pinching and plucking your clit until your hips rolled to a stop as your pussy squeezed him gently.
When you opened your eyes, you were still dizzy as Bradley held you. Your pussy was slick with his cum, both of you spent as his hand settled on the side of your belly.
"We'll circle back to that vasectomy conversation later," he whispered as you laughed softly with his cock still inside you. "Right now, I don't want you to move an inch."
"That's convenient," you mumbled, "because I think my bones are jello." You snuggled in closer, eyelids heavy, but Bradley's body jerked beneath you.
"Holy shit," he gasped, sitting more upright as you grabbed his shoulders.
"What's wrong?"
"I can feel her," he whispered, his hand trailing along your belly, pressing firmly. "I can feel our daughter moving."
You were so used to her almost-constant squirming, it took you a beat to realize that she was turning somersaults below your ribcage, but she was moving a lot. Bradley's gaze met yours, and a beaming smile filled his face as he adjusted his hand an inch higher.
"She's moving a lot, Roo. I think she likes your voice."
Tears glittered in your husband's eyes, and you kissed his cheeks. It felt so good to be back on solid ground in your relationship. Perhaps you never had anything to worry about, but moments like this one were priceless to you.
"I love you so much," Bradley promised, his lips finding yours, kissing you through his words. "I love my girls. This is the best fucking day."
When Rose started crying to eat again, you finally crawled from your husband's lap. But he followed you into the nursery, claiming, "I want to be close to the three of you." He barely left your side for the rest of the night.
-----------------------------
Bradley was still stressed out about Indigo. He didn't really think about her when he was at home, but when he got to work and saw her lurking about, his anxiety seemed to spike. Today, she was outside his classroom when the others filed in for his lecture. He wondered how much longer the little scheme you and Cat worked up could possibly keep her on the ground. He still didn't have all the details, not that he wanted them, but he knew better. She would be back in the air by the end of the year. And he hadn't heard a word about his complaints against her.
"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," Indigo sang, setting Bradley's teeth on edge. He had to take deep breaths and remind himself that he couldn't rage at her. When he thought about how he spent last night feeling the baby kicking, he calmed down.
"Lieutenant Jeffries. I trust you haven't forgotten you're not permitted in my classroom?"
Her smirk was obnoxious. "Of course not, Sir. I was just simply stopping by to inform you that your superior is back." Her smirk turned into a bright, joyful smile. "And I'm going to stop by his office."
Maverick was back from Lemoore. Mav was back, and somehow Indigo knew about it before he did. While that rubbed him the wrong way, Bradley thought perhaps things could move along faster now. Maybe there was a way out of this whole mess. He wanted his life to go back to normal again. He needed it.
"Enjoy your morning, Lieutenant Jeffries. Don't forget to stay out of the aviators' lounge."
Bradley closed the door softly instead of slamming it, and then he got his notes out. The other students were eager to hear what he had planned. Even Spice seemed to have distanced herself from Indigo which was interesting; perhaps she valued her career more than a toxic friend. Bradley wrote some notes on the board and got to work.Â
What was supposed to be a two hour long discussion with the group was cut short halfway through. When he walked around the classroom, pausing to answer a question, Bradley's gaze was drawn toward the window. He saw you outside in the sunlight near the hangar. It was impossible to miss you in your maternity uniform, not that he would ever tell you that, but even the curve of your cheek was unmistakable to him.
God, you were fucking perfect. His heart skipped around in his chest as he watched you turn back toward your office, and he crept closer to the window for a better look. He couldn't wait until lunchtime so he could sit with you.
Then his back went ramrod straight, and Bradley froze. Indigo walked past you, checking your shoulder with hers. "What the fuck?" Bradley snarled under his breath. Indigo kept walking like she hadn't just intentionally run into you. You. A pregnant woman. Bradley's pregnant wife. "You're all dismissed," he barked, heading for the classroom door as quickly as he could walk. Once he was in the hallway, he was running for the exit in the atrium.
The sunlight was blinding, but he saw you immediately. When he called your name, you turned to him and smiled. Indigo was nowhere in sight now as he ran to get to you.Â
"Are you okay?" he demanded, touching your shoulder before letting his hand settle on your belly.
"Yeah, I just had to take something to Cat. Why are you out of breath?" you asked, kissing his cheek softly before he wrapped you up in a hug. "What's going on, Bradley?"
He kissed along your forehead and said, "I saw Indigo plow into you through the window. She did it intentionally."
"Oh. Yeah. She does that all the time. I wish she'd just hit me in the face already, because I'm not about to retaliate."
Bradley held you at arm's length, eyes wide. "Don't say that! I don't want her laying a finger on you!"
You took a deep breath and sighed. "You know none of this would be a problem if you weren't so sexy, right?" Bradley's cheeks felt warm as you tucked yourself against him again. "I need to get back to my lab, but I'll see you at lunch. We can start discussing baby names."
As you strolled away, Bradley once again felt terrible that you were in this mess with him.
----------------------------
You didn't want Bradley worrying any more than he always was, but Indigo did hit your shoulder pretty hard this time. You were still rubbing it when you walked into your building and headed for the elevators.Â
It felt like you were trapped in some realm filled with optical illusions; somehow Indigo was standing in front of the elevator buttons. How she got inside so quickly was beyond you.
"Excuse me," you told her, trying to reach for the up arrow with your chin held high, but she didn't move. "You're in my way."
"How does it feel knowing your husband fucked me in his office?" she whispered. Your hand stilled in the air as you met her horrible, blue eyes. "How does it feel knowing I can have him whenever I want? Every Monday after his office hours. This past Monday was something else. Would you like some details?"
It made you physically sick that she thought she had some sort of grasp on you and Bradley. It would be nice to hit her in the face instead of the other way around. But you knew she was lying. She was grasping at straws. Bradley had skipped his office hours on Monday in favor of joining you for your appointment with Dr. Morris just like he always did. The woman in front of you was beyond ridiculous.
"Do you want to know the details?" she demanded. "Answer me."
"I don't answer to you!" Your voice had her taking a step back until she hit the wall between the elevator doors. "I outrank you in every way."
"You can't do this to me," she hissed. "You think you're an admiral on a power trip or something, but you can't ground me indefinitely, Lieutenant Commander."
Just as your lips parted, ready to put her in her place, you heard boots squeak in the polished floor to your left. You glanced that way to see the confident stride of Bradley's godfather as Maverick yanked his aviators off. His gaze was like steel as he stopped at your side.
"Maybe she doesn't quite have the power to ground you indefinitely, but I certainly do, Lieutenant Jeffries."
"Sir," she complained with a pout, "you don't understand what she's trying to do to me. She grounded me and my Super Hornet, Captain Mitchell. She's trying to ruin my career for no good reason. Her commanding officer should be informed that she's manipulating things the way she wants them when I've done nothing wrong."
You were seeing red. She was the one who started this whole thing, not you. And she was the one who kept trying to goad you on because she didn't get what she wanted. And now she was trying to make you look bad in front of Mav. You couldn't tell if you were about to laugh or cry.
"Enough," Mav barked. "I don't want to hear another word. One conversation with her commanding officer, and you'll be eating your words, Lieutenant Jeffries. And do you honestly think anything happens to one of the Super Hornets in the Pacific fleet without me knowing about it?"
Instead of a verbal response, Indigo blushed bright pink and shook her head slowly.
Maverick cleared his throat and lowered his volume a bit. "Someone in your position should be keeping a low profile, but you can't seem to help yourself."
"Someone in my position?" she asked, her gaze flickering your way briefly.
Shaking his head, Maverick said, "I've never seen a harassment case against a subordinate open and close so quickly."
"What?" Indigo squeaked, fingers curling into fists at her sides.
"It seems you have a history of behaving poorly around your male superiors," Maverick added. "I was going to let you save face and have this conversation in my office this afternoon, but it's a little too late for that. Maybe things worked in your favor in the past. You seem the type who got used to getting their own way. But that kind of behavior doesn't belong at Top Gun. And you were barking up the wrong tree with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw from the beginning. Not only is he happily married, his wife has more friends and allies on base than you'll ever know about. Pack your locker and meet me in my office. You're going back to Texas today."
"Texas!" Indigo wailed. "I'm too good for that program."
Maverick reached around her for the elevator button. "I wouldn't worry about that. You're about to learn that the Navy is too good for you. Now get out of my sight."
It felt like everything shifted as you watched Indigo storm away. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to fold in on herself. It was a far cry from her usual behavior as Maverick guided you into the elevator with him when the doors opened.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, tipping your chin up so you met his eyes. "I really didn't mean for you to hear all of that."
"I'm okay," you whispered before wrapping your arms around him as tears leaked from your eyes. "Thanks for looking out for Bradley and me."
He kissed your forehead as you cried. "You're family. I'll always do what I can." When the doors slid open, you realized you were on your floor. Maverick wrapped his arms around your shoulders, guiding you along to your office. Your fingers were shaking as you unlocked the door. "I'll text Bradley and see if he can stop by," he said, following you inside where you sank into your desk chair with your hands on your belly.
"Is she out?" you whispered, completely exhausted as you took deep breaths. "Is Indigo out of the Navy?"
Maverick sighed and tucked his phone away again. "That's up to the admirals in Texas, but if I had to wager a guess... probably."
It seemed wild to you that she would risk it all for something as trivial as a hookup, but then again, Bradley always was irresistible to you. At one point, you were willing to risk everything you'd worked toward since your years at the Naval Academy to be with him. You'd even announced to the entire control room on an aircraft carrier that he was the man for you. But he was yours. He was Rose's. He was the baby's. Indigo wasn't going to get away with even testing the waters.
You weren't sure how long you'd been sitting there reflecting on things with Mav perched on the edge of your desk, but it must have been several minutes. When you heard heavy footfalls in the hallway, you looked at your open doorway as your husband came rushing inside.
"Are you okay?" he asked, panting and sweaty. He barely looked at Maverick before dropping to his knees next to your chair. "Did she hurt you?"
"Jeez, Mav," you murmured as the other man headed for the door. "What did you tell him?" you asked, referring to the text he'd sent to Bradley.Â
"I told him you needed him," Maverick replied with a chuckle before closing the door on his way out.
"I swear to God," Bradley growled, focused on your face. "If she hurt you-"
"She didn't," you promised, cupping his cheek. "I promise we're just fine."
He was still everything you wanted. Almost two years married, and Bradley was worth every bit of this trouble. His lips found your belly through your ugly tent, kissing along until his cheek came to rest there. "That's good," he rasped as your fingers combed through his hair. "Hopefully they'll take my complaints against her seriously. I can barely stand coming to work knowing she's giving you a hard time."
"She's out, Bradley." He flashed his brown eyes up to your face. "Maverick is sending her back to Texas where they'll decide what happens to her."
He gave you a satisfied groan as he nuzzled your belly, kissing you a million times. Then his head came to rest in your lap, and you could feel the tension slowly release from his body for the first time in months as you held onto him.
"Just let me stay here with you for a while. Okay, Baby Girl?"
--------------------------
Have fun in Texas, Indigo! Nobody is going to miss you. I feel like BG should get to keep her Super Hornet out of principle. BUT, the most important part of the chapter is the fact that Bradley got to feel the baby! ALSO, next chapter may be the last one in this series.
Summary: Bradley needed a day off with his wife, but you needed it more. Taking care of his family would come first from now on, and he had no problem proving that to you. As your plan begins to take shape, one of your allies doubles down.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
Cat gave you an earful over the phone, and you let her. As soon as you told her you wanted to move up the unveiling of the project she'd been leading for months, she panicked.
"I have it scheduled for December," she snapped. "Six weeks from now. It's not perfect yet, and you know how much I like perfection."
When you said, "It doesn't need to be perfect, it just needs to work," you heard a muffled scream.
"I'm going to break out in hives. I need to lie down," she hissed. "You're talking about something that affects the entire F/A-18 fleet."
You rolled your eyes. "I'm not talking about the whole Super Hornet fleet yet. I'm talking about testing on a handful of aircrafts. Or maybe just one to start..."
When you went silent, Indigo's eyes danced through your mind along with her pompous voice and irritating strut.Â
"Do you have any idea how long I'll have to stay at work? I'll be here overnight finishing this. Overnight. Do you hear me?" Cat asked.
"I'll owe you big time," you replied. "I'll babysit Jer a hundred times. A thousand times."
"I absolutely refuse to mention this to Bickel," Cat whispered, reminding you she was at work while you were in your living room. "You can talk to him about it yourself, but I will not. Because I value my relationship with my commanding officer."
"I'll take care of Bickel. He loves it when we're ahead of schedule," you replied, biting your lip as you realized you would very much need his permission to push your plan forward. And you weren't sure you could get it.
"Why do you want this so much? And are you coming back to work today? What's going on?"
You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Listen, I'll be there tomorrow, okay? And I'll fill you in then. Just...give me until tomorrow. Please, keep working on your code."
Cat groaned so loudly, you had to pull your phone away from your ear. "Fine." Then the call ended, and you ran for your bedroom with your hand holding your belly.
Bradley was already sound asleep, the dark circle under his eye prominent even as his face was half buried in his pillow. His thick arm was flung across the spot where your body belonged, and you could see his fingers twitching along the bedding like he was searching for you.Â
Your heart clenched, and you slipped quietly under the covers next to him. "There you are," he grunted, opening one eye as he pulled you closer. "Did you talk to Cat?"
"Yes," you whispered, letting him pull you close so his chest was pressed snug against your back. His warm hand settled on your belly, and his even breathing filled your ear.
"Baby Girl, I can't stay awake," he murmured, kissing the back of your neck. "I need a little nap, then I'll get up with Rose when she cries," he promised.
"I can get up. I'm not that sleepy," you told him, melting in his arms as his fingers circled your belly button.Â
"I love you," he rasped, kissing your ear before his soft snores filled the space.Â
Your eyes blinked slowly before closing, and you realized you were exhausted, too. The adrenaline that had filled you when you were in Bradley's office was drained now. Your belly was full from lunch, and Bradley was so warm. Even the baby had settled into a gentle squirming pattern like she knew you needed a break.
Sleep took over. You never heard a sound until you jolted awake alone in the dark bedroom with your breasts aching. You needed to feed Rose for some relief, because it had been hours since she'd eaten, so you slipped out of bed.Â
Bradley had her tucked in his arm, reading a story about a goose on the couch while Rose poked his mustache. Every other word was punctuated with his laughter, and Rose erupted into giggles.
"How am I supposed to finish the story when you keep distracting me? Now we'll never know if the silly goose finds his friends, and that's your fault, Nugget."
Rose giggled more, and Bradley tossed the book aside to give her kisses while you watched from the end of the hallway. He was the most perfect father, and you should have never doubted him. You wanted to apologize a million more times, but when his eyes met yours, you simply said, "I love you, Roo."
He was on his feet, Rose held against his chest, and then he was smothering you in kisses, too. You couldn't stop laughing as his rough mustache scratched your cheeks while he held you in place with one big hand on your butt.
When he finally stopped, he took you by the hand and said, "Wait until you see this. You're not going to believe it."
"What?" you asked, but he was already setting Rose down on her play mat. As soon as she was on her belly, she popped up to her knees, crawled two feet, and collapsed back onto her belly. "She's crawling!"
"She's crawling!" Bradley shouted. "I took a video of the first time, so you didn't miss it. This was only the second time, I swear. Unless she's been crawling around in her crib."
"She probably has been," you cooed, easing yourself down onto the floor next to her. She promptly started crying hysterically. "She associates you with fun. I think she only associates me with food," you said, pulling your shirt over your head.
"That's not true," Bradley insisted, staring openly at your breasts which were starting to leak. "You're so much more than a perfect rack."
With an eye roll you said, "I guess I should start thinking about what to make for our dinner while she eats."Â
Rose latched on while Bradley kissed the top of your head. "I already took care of it."
"You did?"
"Yeah, I reprised one of your mom's crockpot meals. Chicken soup."
You blinked up at him as he stood. "How? We don't have any groceries. I haven't felt like going shopping."
"Rosie and I took care of it. You needed to sleep, so we went to Costco. Did you know they give you twice the number of free samples if you take the cutest baby in the world?"
"Did you wear her in her carrier on your chest?" you asked as he went into the kitchen.
"Yep."
"That'll do it. Makes you look irresistible." Bradley blushed as he took the lid off the soup, and then the smell of dinner hit your nose. "Oh my god, I'm starving."
He started shifting things around on the counter. "I'll bring you a bowl, and it should be cool enough to eat by the time Rose is done."
You watched him work as your daughter got groggy in your arms. Bradley carried two bowls into the living room along with crackers and lemonade. He had dinner set up for both of you by the time Rose's eyes started to close, and that's when you realized just how late it was.
"I think she's ready for bed," you whispered, handing her to Bradley so you could stand.
"Go eat. I'll burp her and change her diaper," he promised, nodding toward the food.Â
As soon as his big hand circled her back, you heard her burp. It always took you twice as long. This was also the first night in weeks Bradley was home at this early, and you felt tears prickle your eyes as he walked around singing to Rose about the silly goose and his friends before vanishing into the nursery. It didn't take him long to return empty handed, and when he did, you were crying on the couch.
-----------------------------
Bradley missed this so much. He'd only been home for a handful of nights to get Rose ready for bed recently. Right now he was enjoying her fuzzy hair against his lips as he gently set her down on her changing table. He grabbed a fresh diaper and clean pajamas covered in airplanes while she yawned.Â
"Are you too tired to finish the story?" he whispered. "You're going to leave me on a silly goose cliffhanger?"
He swore she nodded. She probably did, she was so fucking smart. She could roll over and crawl, and soon she'd be talking and walking around.Â
"Okay," he murmured. "We can finish the book tomorrow."
He flicked on the lullaby machine even though she was already falling asleep in her crib and went in search of his wife and his dinner. But he found you sitting on the couch with tears on your cheeks.
He dropped to his knees in front of you. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," you whispered, shaking your head. "I'm just happy you're home tonight."
Bradley's face fell as you wiped at your tears, guilt filling his body. "I'm so sorry I fucked up so much," he replied, reaching for your hands. "I just wanted to be on top of everything at work, but I should have been here with you."
"It's okay," you sobbed.
"No. It's not. None of this is fair to you, and I'm not even talking about Indigo right now. You need me helping more at home, and I haven't been. I took this new position so I could be here more and be deployed less, but I fucked it up. I'm thinking about asking Mav to pull me."
"No," you gasped, wiggling off the couch and onto his lap. "You can't, Bradley. You're such a good teacher."
He buried his face in your neck and inhaled as he wrapped his arms around you. "I'm a joke. Nobody's taking me seriously. I have a student who convinced herself she could take advantage of me."
You jerked his chin up so he was looking at you. "That's not even true. She admitted she pulled the same shit in the past, and of course she wanted you, too. You're so sexy. But that's her fucking problem at the end of the day, not yours. And I won't let her make it ours."
Bradley closed his eyes as you kissed his nose and his cheeks. "I just want you to be happy," he whispered. "I'll do whatever I can to make my family happy."
When you said, "You already reported her, right?" he nodded. "That makes me happy. And if you come home on time more often, that will make me happy, too."
"What about a vacation?" he asked softly, letting his hand rest on your belly. "Just the four of us? We could go away for our anniversary. Today was so nice, I think we need some more time off together."
You hummed and nodded. "Let me make sure I don't piss Bickel off tomorrow before I agree to that. I don't want to request time off with my tail between my legs."
Bradley raised one eyebrow. "I'm scared to know what you need to talk about that could make him upset."
"The less you know, the better."
Your words didn't calm his nerves, but your kisses did. So did the soup which was the perfect temperature to eat. You even watched an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey with him before he started cleaning up.
"I can do that," you told him. "I slept all afternoon."
He turned you toward the bedroom and swatted at your butt. "You and Nugget number two were tired. Go relax in bed and start looking at the Halloween costumes I saved in my Amazon cart for Rose."Â
Bradley handed you his phone and sent you on your way. He let Tramp outside and loaded the dishwasher before wiping down the counter and packing up the rest of the dinner. When he finally walked into the bedroom, you were topless and giggling.
"We have to get her this costume!" you insisted, holding up his phone, showing him the one that was actually his top choice as well.
"That was my favorite," he grunted, watching your tits bounce as you sat up.
"It's too perfect. I'll order it right now."
Bradley was distracted as he walked around the room, trying to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and got undressed, eyes barely able to look anywhere but at your body. This morning, he woke up in the Bronco on the driveway, because you thought there was a chance he was messing around behind your back. He was just happy to put that behind him. He wasn't about to press his luck as he climbed in bed.
"Here you go," you whispered, handing his phone back. He took it and plugged it in to charge overnight, but your breasts brushed his arm. They were heavy and perfect, your nipples big and pert from all the hormones and breast milk. And now he was fully erect as he tried to lay on his back, reaching to turn the lamp off.
"Are you ready for bed? Or do you feel like staying up a little longer?"
Bradley's gaze snapped to your face as his fingers hovered next to the lamp. "I could stay up a little longer," he rasped, keeping his eyes away from your tits which were pressed together as you leaned closer to him. "If you want."
Bradley had barely touched you in weeks which was evidenced by his throbbing cock. You'd seemed tired and distant, all thanks to Indigo, but he didn't put the pieces together at the time. He thought you were worn out from your pregnancy. Right now, he was horny as hell but afraid for you to know where his mind was as he tried to discreetly adjust himself.
He left the lamp on as you curled up snug against his side. "I saw that you started another notebook for the baby," you said, your fingers skimming along your belly, showing off your perfect body.
Bradley grunted. "Each Nugget gets to read my personalized thoughts on parenthood when they're older."
Your lips found his shoulder, and he shivered. "You're a good dad. I'm sorry I doubted you." Bradley closed his eyes as your fingers traced his chest hair down to his abs. It felt like heaven. He wasn't going to make it.
"Why are you topless?" he gasped, tone accusatory. "You've been sleeping in a sports bra with those pad things in them."
"My nursing pads?" you asked, clearly confused. "So I don't leak at night?"
"Yeah. Those things. Why are your tits all over the place right now?"
You looked taken aback as you pulled your hand away from his body and sat up. Bradley groaned, eyes raking all over you as his cock tented the bedding. "I was going to put a bra on before I fall asleep. It just felt nice to take a break for a few minutes. Is it bothering you? I'll put it on now."
You were pouting, and he was sweating as you started to climb out of bed. "Jesus Christ, Sweetheart. Come back," he begged, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. "You look so fucking hot, I can't focus on anything."
"Oh." Your pout turned into softly parted lips that he needed to kiss. So he did. He sat up, letting the bedding fall to his hips as he smashed his lips to yours. Fuck, you felt too good. And then you blindly nudged his cock with your hand. "Oh!"
You pulled away, wide eyed and staring down. "Yeah," he grunted. "But in my defense, you had your tits all over the place. You still do." Then you wrapped your hand around his erection, and Bradley collapsed against his pillow. "We don't have to mess around tonight," he gasped. "It wasn't my intention at all. I just wanted to spend time together."
Your laughter filled his ears, and colors erupted behind his eyelids as you worked your hand down to his balls. "You really never stopped wanting me?"
"I've wanted you nonstop since the moment I first saw you," he whined, and then your lips wrapped around his cock. Bradley's eyes flew open, watching you give him head, but after a minute of pleasure, he was reaching for you. "I won't last another minute."
You pulled him free with a pop. "So?"
Bradley panted. "So, I want to make you feel good, too."
You smirked and licked him from balls to tip. "It makes me feel good knowing you can't stop looking at my body." He forced his gaze from your nipples to your face. "And it will make me feel good to swallow your cum before letting you suck on my tits."
He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. "Okay," he rasped, in no position to argue with you while you were gagging on his cock.Â
He had been correct. After another minute, he was grabbing at the bedding, hanging on for dear life. Your tits were bouncing against his inner thighs, and your belly looked gorgeous. Your face was perfect as you looked up at him with your mouth full. This wasn't what he expected, but he wasn't mad about it. He came, barking out your name as you swallowed every drop, licking him clean.
When you eased yourself onto your back, coaxing him closer to your taut nipples, he moaned. He was in heaven with your fingers in his hair, and when he tasted you, he knew he'd never get enough.
He kept you up for another hour, making sure you felt as good as he did.
----------------------------
You couldn't stop smiling the next morning as Bradley kissed your cheek while you tried to put your contacts in. "Can I have a little space, Roo?" you asked sweetly.
"No," he whispered, crowding in closer. "I can't stop touching you."
He'd done plenty of that last night. You came so hard on his mouth and fingers, you thought you were going to wake Rose up. Turns out Bradley had been missing you while you were trying to block him out to protect yourself. But Indigo was toast. You'd see to that. She had Bradley convinced he was terrible at his job, and that just wouldn't do. Neither would the fact that nobody got to have your husband except you.
"If you let me get ready for work, I'll blow you again tonight."
He took an immediate step away, hands up in surrender. "By all means, have as much space as you need, Sweetheart. I'll get Rose up and let her crawl around with Tramp."
After you brushed your teeth, you went to the closet. The maternity tent taunted you from the back corner, but you decided to squeeze into your regular uniform. "You'll have your day soon enough," you whispered. But your mind was already focused on work.
If Cat stayed late enough to finish the code, then just maybe you could pull this off. Indigo could get her punishment through the Navy, but you wanted to give her a little something special yourself. After all, she knew who you were, but she didn't know you overheard her in Bradley's office.
You were smiling as you strutted through the living room and out the front door. Rose was buckled in and ready to go, and Bradley was waiting in the driver's seat of the red Bronco with his aviators on.
"You look hot," he murmured, reaching to buckle your seatbelt for you after you climbed in. His lips brushed yours making you very aware you'd be late for work if the three of you didn't leave now.
"I told you I'd blow you tonight, not now."
Bradley laughed and started the engine. "That's not what I'm after, and you know it."
After he backed out of the driveway, he reached for your hand. "What are you after?"
"I want to have lunch with you in the cafeteria today."
Your smile grew as Bradley's rough fingers tangled with yours. "That sounds nice. Not sure what time I'll be able to get away though."
"Text me. Whenever you're free, I'll make it work."
"Okay," you whispered, turning to check on Rose. "And we'll leave on time to go home?"
"We'll leave on time to go home," Bradley confirmed.
You almost made another comment about the blowjob, but you knew it wasn't about that. He promised to do better, and you were going to as well. Starting with showing Indigo who's boss on your husband's behalf.
An hour later, your knuckles connected with Bickel's office door. "Come in!"
This was not the time for nerves. You needed to sound confident as hell. "Captain Bickel, Sir, can we talk about one of our projects for a minute?"
"Sure, Lieutenant Commander," he replied, shuffling some things on his desk. "Uh, have a seat."
He was kind and patient, and as soon as you got into it, you weren't nervous at all. "How do you feel about testing our code on some grounded Super Hornets ahead of schedule?" Kicking the project off early could actually be beneficial, and you knew it. It was a pretty easy sell. "It could give us a little more time to work out any kinks before the end of the year."
Bickel leaned back in his seat. "I'm not sure Lieutenant Commander Coleman is finished with the preliminaries."
"Oh, she is," you told him with a smile. "She's way ahead of schedule, because she's brilliant."
He laughed and nodded. "We really do have a great team. Hmmm." His brow furrowed, and he looked through his calendar. "I think this could actually work out well. Starting updates ahead of schedule means we could have the fleet back in the air ahead of schedule. Go ahead and move forward with an aircraft or two."
Your heart was racing. It was the moment of truth. This might not work out at all. "Do I need to choose randomly?"
Bickel shook his head. "Choose whichever you want. But if you ground your own husband, that's on you. I will not bail you out of that argument."
Satisfaction filled your insides as Bickel laughed at his own joke, and a giddy grin spread across your face. "I know just where to start, Sir," you promised, saluting him before running back to the lab with both hands on your belly.
Cat glared at you when you sat on the stool next to her. "I am so tired. Literally and figuratively," she mumbled. "Don't come in here and try to talk to me with your peppy BS. I don't want to hear it."
You laughed merrily and slid her computer away from her.
"Hey!" she complained, reaching for it, but you shook your head.
"We can start testing whenever we want," you said, opening the credentials list of each aviator currently at Top Gun associated with an F/A-18. "And we can choose which aircraft to run the program on first."
You scrolled past BRADSHAW, BRADLEY and FITCH, REUBEN and GARCIA, MICKEY as you made your way through the alphabet. When you got to JEFFRIES, BROOKE, you stopped and smiled. "Bingo."
"Who's Lieutenant Jeffries? And why did you go directly her them?" Cat asked as you casually went back to her lines of code to start double checking everything.
"Oh, she's been trying to fuck Bradley for over a month."
"What?" Cat screeched, jumping out of her seat. "What's going on?!"
You waved your hand dismissively. "She's a young pilot training under him, and apparently she likes getting sexy, older officers to sleep with her. Nothing's going on, much to her displeasure."
"Well of course nothing's going on!" Cat spat. "Hasn't she seen the way your husband looks at you like you're a dessert buffet?" You snorted, but she ripped her computer from your hands. "Give me this," she muttered, pounding away on the keys. A few seconds later, you realized what she was doing, but it was too late.
"Cat, don't!" you gasped. "You put 'check for potential incompetence and/or pilot error' in the notes!"
"So what?" she snarled. "I always do that when I ground an aircraft. It adds a layer of safety."
"I didn't even finish checking your new code to verify we can run the program!"
"It doesn't matter," she added, inching her computer further away from you. "My code is flawless. And this bitch can sit on the ground indefinitely, I don't even care. Don't mess with my friends."
You watched as Cat's index finger slammed into the return key.
"Oh my god," you groaned. "We're logged in under your credentials which means you're the one who will have to do a thorough investigation!"
This would add hours and hours of work to Cat's schedule. You knew it. She knew it, too, but she was rolling her shoulders with a satisfied smirk on her face. "I love investigations. I haven't done one since the summer. And as far as I'm concerned, it's better to be safe than sorry." Her smirk melted into a solemn expression. "I take my job very seriously. You know for a fact I'll do everything by the book."
"What about all the extra hours?" you whispered.
"I don't give a shit. You can help Jake can take care of Jer while I work late. I'll go over Jeffries' aircraft with a fine tooth comb."
When you looked at her, you burst into tears. "Thank you."
"You don't have thank me. It's my pleasure to keep the Pacific Fleet safe from all kinds of threats."
Eventually you texted Bradley when you were done checking Cat's perfect work, letting him know you were ready for lunch. The cafeteria was packed, but you found him standing alone at the end of the line.
"There you are," he murmured, collecting you in his arms and kissing you in front of everyone. "I'm so hungry, I thought I was going to have to start without you." He ushered you into line with a tray and began to pile it with food. "I got an email a few minutes ago letting me know that Indigo will be grounded until further notice starting tomorrow. You know anything about that?"
"I already told you, the less you know, the better. Don't forget to grab the hot sauce."
-----------------------------------
I'm afraid Indigo doesn't stand a chance if Cat teams up with BG... I just don't want her anywhere near Bradley. Gonna start wrapping up this series in a few more chapters!
Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.
Pairing: Bradley âRoosterâ Bradshaw x Reader
Length: 7.7k
Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh
Going on a first date on Valentineâs Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadnât been yours, you werenât entirely sure what you were thinking when youâd even agreed to it in the first place.
The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.
In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.
You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldnât have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.
And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.
There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar youâd found yourself in.
The ice pink mini slip dress youâd dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentineâs Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didnât appreciate it, then that was a him problem.
Or so youâd thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.
The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasnât something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.
But then youâd gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way youâd been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.
The whole look was something youâd sure would come with Cher Horowitzâs seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.
There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.
Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether youâre going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driverâs seat in your car.
But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.
âOh my god,â you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.
You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. Thereâs a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.
There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that youâd take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.
When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation youâve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup. Â
Once youâre situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan youâd topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize youâre devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.
So you wait.
And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.
And wait.
You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.
Now youâre not just simply embarrassed, youâre mortified.
You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes youâve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasnât going to show.
So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.
Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide youâre more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that youâre about to become a topic of conversation that wonât have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, theyâll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.
With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.
âYou look like youâre in need of a date,â a warm, raspy voice offers.
Itâs the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.
There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.
He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didnât hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didnât need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.
Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.
You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. âWhat gave it away?â you ask. âThe way Iâve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?â
âEmbarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?â His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. âI think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.â
You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. Thereâs a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment youâd walked in release.
âThatâs kind of you, but I think Iâm going to head out,â you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.
He gives you a teasing tsk. âAnd let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.â
The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you canât say youâre not intrigued.
Thereâs a decision to make.
You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of Youâve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.
Or you could stick around and see what happens next.
You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. âWould it now?â
âIt would,â he states, sincerely.
Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze youâd found yourself in.Â
His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. âIs that him?â
âIt is,â you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.
Thereâs no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then heâd even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.
Unbelievable.
He lets out a low whistle. âThat bad, huh?â
âApparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.â Itâs so ridiculous youâd laugh if you werenât so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame heâd tried to shift on you. âEven though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didnât realize I actually needed to spell out âValentineâs Dayâ for him.â
The man across from you doesnât bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. Itâs refreshing.
âDo you mind if I take a look at his profile?â
You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.
He snorts as he scrolls, âPlease, his mustache has nothing on mine.â
An amused laugh escapes you. âAre we ranking mustaches now? Because if thatâs the case, Iâm sorry to say that Iâd have to give it to Selleck.â
âFair enough,â he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. âBut am I at least a close second?â Thereâs no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.
You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.
To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.
The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. Thereâs the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.
Thereâs a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not heâs been flirting with you. You like the way heâs looking at you and the way heâs easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. Youâre having fun. And while you still havenât answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that heâd show you a good time if you let him.
âMaybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,â you tease.
He grins. âI can work with that.â Thereâs something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, âIâm Bradley.â
Itâs a good name. It suits him. Itâs one you think youâll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.
When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like heâs won a small victory.
You donât doubt that heâs the chivalrous type, the fact that heâs gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one whoâd swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, thereâs an answer to a question you need to hear first.
âBradley, this isnât a pity thing, is it?â You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. âBecause if it is, thatâll make me feel worse than being stood up did.â
The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didnât like. But youâd rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.
He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. âTrust me, this is furthest thing from a âpity thingâ, as you put it,â Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. âBecause if Iâm being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I donât know if I would have played fair.â
Oh.
A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.
You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. âOk, I believe you.â
âGood,â he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didnât realize youâd trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. âBecause you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if Iâd known. Thatâs some dress, sweetheart,â Bradley continues, âPlus, youâd be doing me a favor.â
You couldnât help but be curious, so you lean in closer. âOh, how so?â
Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. âI havenât had a Valentine in years,â he says it like heâs letting you in on a secret.
For the first time all night, you donât regret wearing the dress. You donât regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You donât regret walking through that creaky door. You donât regret showing up tonight.
How could you when youâve just been served the best plot twist youâve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.
You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. âWill you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?â
Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, âGood to know they still work, I wasnât sure if I still had it.â
You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.
âTrust me, you have plenty.â
And Bradleyâs own smile gets even wider.
Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.
He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. âWhatâre we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?â
You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. âThat seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?â
âYouâre right, something to look forward to for next time,â he responds, not missing a beat. âSo, can I buy you a drink?â
âIâll allow it.â
âI was hoping youâd say that.â
There wasnât a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you arenât sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when youâd first walked in, but you hadnât wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place youâd been.
You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.
The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.
Bradleyâs lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you canât quite describe.
You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, âWhat?â
He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, âThereâs something you should know about me, sweetheart.â
âAnd whatâs that?â you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.
Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, âPink is my favorite color.â
Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner youâd tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, thatâs alright with you.
You donât believe him, not one little bit. But thatâs part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. Heâs so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.
The sound of Bradleyâs own laughter chases after yours. Itâs warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.
You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. âWait, whatâs it really?â
âRed,â Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. âBut youâve got me second guessing myself now.â He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.
You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans heâs wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.
When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.
âItâs almost a perfect match,â he notes, when he sets it in front of you.
âAt least I wonât have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.â
Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.
You take a sweet sip. âSo.â
âSo,â he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.
âWhatâs your move?â you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.
âMy move?â And thereâs that grin again, one he doesnât try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. Â ââm pretty sure Iâve been showing you my moves since I sat down. Iâve never been good at being subtle.â
Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until itâs pulled taut against itself. Â
You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. âBut whatâs the big move? I know you have one,â you press further.
His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar thatâs near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.
Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.
You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like heâs enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.
Bradleyâs eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever heâs doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. âYou see that piano over there?â
âMhm.â Itâs an almost purr.
âThatâs my big move.â
You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, youâd never have expected that heâd be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.
âAm I going to get to see it?â
His gaze is steady on you when he replies, âYeah, sweetheart, Iâll show you my move.â
A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.
Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task heâd started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.
âNow, since weâre valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.â Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. âSorry, I couldnât find you a Ring Pop on short notice.â
The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.
Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.
âI usually wouldnât be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, Iâll make an exception,â you say, liltingly. âThank you, Bradley.â
You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.
When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. âI make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but Iâm good for it.â
Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. Itâs a pretty picture.
âWell, arenât you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.â
âIâm a man of many talents,â he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. âNow, Iâve told you mine. Canât say Iâm not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?â
âMaybe,â you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, âIf youâre good.â
Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. âJust out of curiosity, whatâs your position on kissing on a first date?â
You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. âIâll keep you posted.â
Youâre still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.
âBradshaw!â
Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. Youâre more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.
You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. âI take it you know, Malibu Ken?â
âUnfortunately.â A mischievous look coasts over his face. âBut Iâll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.â
You laugh. âIâm holding out for that daisy chain.â
Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.
âSeems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?â
He snorts. âYou know what, he just might be. But more like heâs been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.â
You try not to preen at the compliment.
âThe relentless type, huh?â
âYou donât know the half of it. I think Iâm about thirty seconds from him queuing up âYou Make Me Feel So Youngâ on repeat just to fuck with me,â Bradley explains. Thereâs a story there and you want to know more. âI know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then Iâm all yours.â
You feel like youâve just pulled an ace from your pocket.
âWhat are the stakes?â you ask, intrigued.
âTwo hundred dollars and a whiskey,â Bradley replies.
You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. âThatâs a lot of Ring Pops.â
The corners of his mouth curl up. âI was thinking dinner for our third date,â he says. âIâm buying for our second, of course. But itâs only right that we split the spoils of war.â
The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.
You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. âOkay,â you agree, âJust as long as youâre okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans youâre wearing.â
He laughs, itâs a throaty rich sound. âIâd be offended if you didnât.â
You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. Itâs a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you donât mind at all.
Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before. Â
The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, âBradley Bradshaw?â
He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, âI blame it on the 80âs.â
âWhatever you say, Brad-Brad.â Itâs the one and only time youâre ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.
He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.
âLike a dog with a goddamn bone,â you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, youâd rather be seeing his big move, but you canât claim not to be amused by all of this.
He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.
You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell theyâre curious, but youâre grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.
The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. Itâs a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way heâs been doing it since he first sat down across from you.
The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like itâs something thatâs innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isnât an act with him, itâs who he is.
Jake rests a hip against the table. âSorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.â
You wave him off, itâs not a big deal. Not when youâll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, youâre eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.
âYeah, yeah. Letâs get this over with,â Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before heâd made his way over to your table for one.
He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. Youâd thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didnât need to.
âYou that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?â Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.
And then theyâre off.
Itâs a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.
Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. Itâs the only thing that gives him away that heâs not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note heâs too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because heâs too eager to see if his gamble pays off.
Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell heâs probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesnât need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.
The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.
When Bradleyâs not up to play, heâs by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, itâs your eyes heâs looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.
True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.
Jake sinks another solid into the pocket heâd called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, âYou still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.â
The way he says it, you know heâs just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.
âUnfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,â you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.
You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.
âDouble hit,â you declare.
âDammit,â Jake curses.
You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like thereâs a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.
âYou sure?â you ask.
âTwo hundred dollars sure,â he states.
You take it from him with a sly grin.
Bradleyâs thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that heâd fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool youâve been perched on. And youâre starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.
You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like theyâre chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.
âYouâre the stripes,â Jake offers helpfully. âDonât worry, Iâll even let you have a free shot.â
And you canât help but laugh because this is going to be fun.
âBradley?â you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.
âYeah, sweetheart?â
âDo you mind?â You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.
He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, thereâs just enough space between the two of you that you donât have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you donât think youâd mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you werenât exactly up for flashing the whole bar.
You havenât played in a while, but itâs a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mindâs eye before anchoring your bridge.
You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.
Itâs a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock youâd intended for it.
âDamnâ is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.
âYou sure about that free shot, Jake?â You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. âOr do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?â You hear Bradley snort from behind you.
And just like you thought, he wasnât one to back down from a challenge, âDeal.â Jake turns to Bradley. âI just let your girl hustle me, didnât I?â
âYou sure did,â Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.
Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.
On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing itâll be a difficult shot for him to make.
âNow youâre just toying with me, arenât you?â Jake grouses.
Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.
Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know youâre going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.
But soon enough, soon thereâs only your eight ball left on the table.
âLooks like youâre about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,â you say with a self-satisfied smirk.
âJust put me out of my misery already.â
You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, âDo you want the honors?â
He shakes his head. âGo on, finish him off, sweetheart. Iâm enjoying the show.â
And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.
âThe atmâs by the restroom.â Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.
You look over his wide shoulder, âAs for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.â
Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.
âScored four hundred dollars and a valentine, thatâs not too shabby, if I do say so myself,â you preen to Bradley.
âThink that might have been the best thing Iâve seen all year,â Bradley announces. âThe hottest too, if Iâm being honest.â You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. âWhereâd you learn to play like that?â
Normally, this is when youâd rerack, but youâve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.
âI took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,â you explain with a playful little shrug.
âIâll say.â He takes another step closer. âDid you just show me your move, sweetheart?â
âOne of them,â you grin.
You donât have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.
You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.
The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. Itâs unhurried, like heâs been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, itâs better than you could have expected.
âThink you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,â you say against his lips.
âSuck it, Selleck,â he rasps.
You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.
A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling youâd done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.
It was only much later that night youâd gotten to see Bradleyâs big move.
Heâd surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.
Youâd given him your number when heâd walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before youâd left for the night, hoping that youâd hear from him soon.
A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.
You sigh when you see that itâs a notification from your dating app. Youâre wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one youâd spent your evening with.
When you see the name of the person whoâd sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadnât had a chance to learn yet.
There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces youâd seen tonight at the Hard Deck.
But itâs the answers to the prompts that heâd picked, that set your heart fluttering.
And you canât help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app wonât be on your phone for much longer.
Not now that youâve met him.
Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!
And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!
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Summary:Â 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
Check out my masterlist for more!
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!
Summary: Maverick makes time to have a conversation with Bradley, but you've already lost faith in him. Your words hurt him more than anything else could.Â
Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy
Length: 3500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
When the mattress dipped and you felt the bedding shift around your legs, you opened your eyes to find Bradley climbing out of bed. The room was still dark, but his face was illuminated by his phone screen. The baby was thumping against your tender insides, making you wince, and your husband was playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. Or texting someone.
"What are you doing?" you croaked. Bradley's gaze snapped toward your face, and he leaned down to pull the covers to your shoulder.
"Uh, I need to head to base a little early," he whispered, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "To meet with Mav."
"What time is it?" you asked, rolling toward him to see his phone.
"Almost six," he replied, kissing your forehead as he tipped his screen away. "I love you. Try to get some more sleep."
You swallowed hard, rolling away from him as he started pulling his uniform from the closet. The rustle of fabric set your nerves on edge, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he got dressed. Maybe he thought you fell asleep again, because he didn't say another word before he left the room. But you were pretty sure you heard him stop in Rose's nursery before leaving the house.
Now you were wide awake and alone. Your phone told you it was 5:28 which was completely absurd. Neither you nor Bradley ever got to base before 8:00 unless you were working your ass off on a project.
He used Maverick as his excuse which seemed ridiculous. Bradley wasn't in the middle of training for a special mission which would require extra hours before daylight. And he had to know Maverick would only cover for him for so long.
You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you?Â
It wasn't like you couldn't tell how bad you looked at the moment. You knew it. You were bloated and chunky and broken out, but it was at least half his fault you were pregnant again in the first place. And you would make it a priority to get in shape after she was born. You would.
Your fingers were curled around the sheets, trying to keep yourself on your side of the bed, but you crawled toward Bradley's nightstand anyway. The lamp was too bright, taking your eyes a beat to adjust. You yanked the drawer open which offered almost no insight to anything except his Nugget Notebook with the pink and blue striped cover. But then you saw something underneath it.
You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily.
To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.
Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls.Â
"How?" you gasped, dropping the notebook back into the drawer. You sobbed into Bradley's pillow, unable to make sense of this. How was the man who wrote notebook passages to his children the same man who was sneaking around behind your back. With Indigo. It simply did not make sense, but both versions of him seemed to exist at the same time. And somehow you were the one who was more at odds with yourself than he was with himself.
You could feel the love he had for his daughters. It was so obvious. He was so good with Rose, and he seemed excited about having two kids.
You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all.Â
--------------------------
"Oh, God."
Bradley was awake as soon as Maverick replied to his text at five in the morning. He'd barely been able to sleep anyway, but when Maverick told Bradley he was heading to Lemoore in a few hours for a meeting, he begged his godfather to meet with him first.
Now Bradley was sitting in his office in a silent building waiting for any help he could get. As far as he had worked out, Indigo had been devouring his extra attention for weeks for a less savory reason than he originally thought. All the times she invited him out for a drink left him shaking his head while he stared at the wedding photo perched in his desk.Â
He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.
He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days, and he was sure Indigo knew he was married before he even left Texas to fly back to San Diego. It still seemed unlikely she wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn't going to deny that Nat was usually right about these things.
"Oh, God," Bradley groaned for probably the tenth time since he woke up. He wanted to rewind and go back to Texas and never select Indigo in the first place.Â
But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.
But if Bradley couldn't handle his first assignment in his new position, how was he supposed to prove he could do this going forward?
There was a knock on his already open door, and Maverick stood there looking perplexed. "Bradley? What did you need that couldn't wait until later this week?"
Bradley groaned again as he stood. "Can you shut the door?"
"Sure."
Maverick let it slip from his fingers, and Bradley waited until the echo of the door closing gave way to silence. He could feel his godfather's gaze on his face as his eyes closed. He swallowed hard, not wanting to waste the other man's time, but now that he was here, he felt so stupid.Â
"I need your help," Bradley rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes opened. "It's work related."
"Okay," Maverick replied, voice between a statement and a question. "What can I do?"
Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing."
When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."
Bradley took a long breath and let it out slowly. "There's another officer who... well, it's been brought to my attention that she..." He let go of his desk and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. "There's a chance my wife thinks something's going on between me and another officer on base. One who reports to me."
Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?"
Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"
He realized he was shouting when Maverick's hands flew into the air in surrender. "Okay. Alright. I hear you loud and clear. I just needed to be sure I understand what we're dealing with here. Why don't you have a seat and explain everything to me?"
Bradley was raking his fingers through his hair as he dropped down into his chair. "It's Lieutenant Jeffries. Indigo." Her intense blue eyes filled his mind as he shook his head. "Phoenix and Hangman pointed out that she..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "This is so embarrassing, Mav, but they said it seems like she wants to sleep with me."
"Hmm."
When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds."
"It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately. "This sort of thing happens sometimes. You said nothing happened? You should keep your distance moving forward, and if she contacts you outside of work or does anything inappropriate, we can write it up."
Bradley groaned miserably, unlocked his phone, and pushed it across the desk with his messages open. "She did text me outside of work."
While Maverick reached for the phone, he said, "Did you give her your number?"
"No. Why would I do that?" he replied. "But honestly, it's not hard to get access to that kind of information. I didn't think much of it the first time."
Maverick shrugged. "Well, what did she text-" His eyes grew wide when he looked down at the phone, his cheeks turning pink as he was surely looking at the photo that had been in Bradley's messages for less than twelve hours.
"Yeah," Bradley croaked. "She sent that last night."
"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message."
Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.
"An agenda?" Bradley whispered. "Shit, Mav. This is the kind of thing that happens on carriers. Not on base. I thought this was something men did way more than women when they wanted to cheat."
Maverick handed his phone back across the desk with the photo of Indigo open. Bradley swiped out of the text thread immediately, sick to his stomach.Â
"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."
"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was."
"Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."
Bradley winced. "Fuck."
"Yeah," Maverick grunted, taking a few steps toward the door. "And your wife is pregnant and vulnerable, and now I'm going to have to tell Admiral Simpson that I'll be late getting to Lemoore. Follow me. And bring your phone."
-------------------------------------
Bradley was late getting home. This was happening almost every night now, and you were hanging on by a thread as Rose screamed in your arms. She was fed, but she always seemed to prefer the way Bradley burped her over your technique.
"He's not here," you said through gritted teeth. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I just need you to burp so you can go to sleep."
Your texts had gone unanswered. You weren't sure if Bradley had been in the cafeteria at lunchtime, because you hid in your office. Dinnertime had come and gone, and his cold plate of food was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.
"I don't know where he is," you repeated to your daughter while her younger sister did somersaults against your bladder. Rose's sobs finally started to taper off as you rubbed your hand firmly against her back. She finally burped, and that seemed to do the trick. Her fists curled up next to her face as she yawned. You barely had enough time to change her into a clean diaper and pajamas before her eyes were closed.
You were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. You stood in her nursery, watching her sleep while you decided you needed to say something to your husband tonight. There was no way you could keep punishing yourself for not being enough. If he wanted someone else, you deserved to have him say it to your face.
But when you heard him open the front door thirty minutes later, your heart lurched into your stomach at the sight of him. You'd known how handsome he was since the day you met him, and he only seemed to get better looking with age. Each year added more silver to his hair and laugh lines to his face, but he was undeniably sexy.
Today, however, he looked exhausted, and your brain went wild with awful ideas. What had he gotten up to? Why was he so late? The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and his hair was mussed. He was staring down at his phone in his hand while you stood silently at the end of the hallway, terrified of what he was looking at.
Suddenly everything you'd been holding inside for weeks was bubbling up to the surface, and you were done holding it back. You cleared your throat, and his gaze snapped up to your face, phone hanging in his hand by his side.
"Hey, Sweetheart. Is Rosie already asleep?"
You nodded, taking each step slowly until you were standing right in front of him. When he reached for you, his fingers skimmed your shoulder before you pushed his hand away. Those beautiful, brown eyes you loved so much went wide, but he didn't look surprised. Not at all.
"Why are you so late?" you snapped. "And don't feed me some bullshit about office hours, because I know your schedule. Or, at least, I know what they are supposed to be."
Bradley licked his lips, gesturing between the two of you with his phone. "I had to take care of something important with Maverick."
You wanted to laugh in his face. "You're really going to use the same excuse as this morning? Another meeting with Maverick? What, one was at the crack of dawn and the other was after dinnertime? I've been texting you for hours, Bradley."
You watched his Adam's apple bob. "I didn't have my phone with me for part of the day."
"You have it now!" you laughed sardonically, pointing at his hand just in time to see his phone light up.Â
It was her. You saw her name there. Indigo. She was texting your husband well after work hours, and you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.
You grabbed his phone before he seemed to realize what was happening. Your fingers shook as you entered his passcode to find it was still your birthday. He wasn't even trying to hide this from you. He wasn't trying to take his phone back. As you braced yourself for what you were about to see, you whispered, "What the fuck is going on with her?"
His brown eyes were so sincere, and once again, you couldn't understand how this was the same man who wrote journals for his unborn children. "Nothing," he replied, voice taking on a tone of defeated exhaustion. "There's nothing going on."
Your eyes dipped down to his phone to find not one, but two flirtatious selfies. One new one, and one that was sent last night while he was working out in the garage. Indigo's eyes stared back at you from the screen, mocking you, making a fool of your family.
You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop."
Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"
Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears.
"What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"
You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house."
Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair.
"Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."
Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls."
When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.
"Find somewhere else to sleep."
The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you.
When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."
You watched him retreat to the front door with his keys, shoulders sagging as he gave you one last lingering look before slipping out into the darkness.
------------------------------------
Ouch. Ouch. Okay. I want BG to believe Roo beyond any doubt, and I think I know how to make that happen. Please stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
Hey hun, since it's officially Holiday Season, picture this: imagine during a holiday break, while at home, Cali felt sick while she washing dishes and lowkey she thinking about she might be pregnant with Jake's child and she is scared to tell him because he don't know how to react.
ooooo I love this idea :) Also sorry this is coming so late, I was dealing with a lot of life things lol. Anyways, here's a little something something with Jake and Caledonia :) :)
--
Just a few more, you thought. Scrubbing the dish in your rubber-gloved hands. Dinner was almost done in the oven, and Jake would be home soon. The once savory aroma seeping from the oven now made your stomach churn. God, not now. Anxiety constricted your heart as the wave of nausea hit you. You wish you could say it was a rare occurrence, but nausea was hitting you at inopportune times all week. Elle had even caught you in the bathroom.
"Cali, when did you last have your period?"
The question haunted you, as you drove home from the lab and as you stormed the aisles of the CVS for a pregnancy test. You and Jake had just moved in together, and you were barely out of graduate school and navigating job offers. The unused test was buried in your bathroom drawer, stress and anxiety deterring you from finding your answer.
What would Jake think?
If it was positive, would he even want to have a baby with you?
Were you even ready to have kids?
Did he even want to be a father?
Crack!
The dish in your hands slipped out into the sink, breaking into multiple pieces. Your hands clutching to the edge of the sink, tears brimming your eyes. "Lass, I'm home. Where are you, pretty girl?"
The sound of the front door closing and the soft thuds of Jake's boots being placed near the door made you wipe your brimming tears from your eyes.
Trying your best to hide your sniffles, you called out to him from the kitchen.
You could feel your heartbeat batter against your ribcage as his footsteps drew nearer. It took all you had to not break into tears as Jake greeted you with that warm, love filled smile. His smile faltering as he took in your tear puffy eyes. Your body tensing as his warm, soft hands cradled your hips. His eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your rigid body against his.
"Everything go ok, today?"
Your eyes met his at his soft tone.
"Yeah, I'm ok. Just- I broke a plate."
His eyebrows furrowed more, eyes moving from you to the shattered plate in the sink. You never cared this much about broken cutlery or tableware.
"I'll be back in a few." You said, trying to quickly take off your rubber gloves. Jake swallowed as he felt your rigid body glide past him, the bathroom door closing with a click.
Worry started to flood his heart as he picked the pieces of the plate out of the sink. You probably just needed some time alone to process whatever had happened, he thought. Jake had finished dealing with dishes in the sink and placed last night's BBQ leftovers in the oven for dinner for the both of you. He looked at the clock. You'd been in there for a good while.
The soft knock on the bathroom door brought your head out of your hands, your body still atop the toilet cover. The unopened pregnancy test still on the counter.
"Sweetheart, everything going ok in there? I have dinner heating up. Should be ready in a few."
He spoke softly through the door, his body leaning against the door frame.
Your lip quivered, your breath starting to heave as the floodgates opened, tears flowing down your cheeks.
Your voice cracked, "It could be better."
Jake gently opened the door, his chest constricting at the sight of your tear flushed eyes and cheeks. He rushed to your side, gently holding you close, laying a kiss to your forehead.
"Cal, what's going on?" he said, voice full of concern.
You felt your lip quiver against his chest.
"I think I might be pregnant," you murmured against his chest.
He gently pulled his chest away, eyes soft.
"Baby, I didn't catch that."
You sniffled, biting into your lip and closing your eyes for a brief moment, taking a breath before repeating your statement through sniffles.
His eyebrows shot up, his hand that was rubbing soothing circles along your shoulder froze, his lips parting.
He cleared his throat, "Are you sure? Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?"
You shook your head, "I've been too scared to. It's on the counter."
He watched as you absentmindedly pointed towards the bathroom sink. He stood up, reaching for the box before returning to your side.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, letting you snuggle into him as you both settled onto the tiled floor.
"I'm with you no matter what this little piece of plastic tells us."
"You promise?"
He nodded, using his finger to cross his heart with a genuine smile.
You sniffled, feeling your throat grow tight.
"Do you-would you ever want to have a baby with me?"
Your teary eyes and teeth biting into your lower lip made his heart sink.
He brought his lips down to meet yours.
"Of course I want to have babies with you. I love you, sweetheart, and there isn't anyone else I would think about making babies and raising them with than you."
You blushed, a grin overcoming your features.
His grin widened. "There's that beautiful smile."
You wiped your eyes on your sweater sleeve.
"And, there's no rush, Lass, if you're not ready to be a mama, then we can wait a while. Figure things out."
Your heart eased at his words.
"We should probably rip off the band aid tonight, to take the uncertainty off of your mind."
You nodded, wiping away the last remnant of your tears before starting to prepare the test. Jake gave you a kiss on the forehead before giving you privacy. He snuggled up with you on the couch, bowls of dinner in hand as you both waited for the test to give you both an answer. Jake took your mind of off the test by talking about his day on base and asking about your work in the lab. The change in conversation bringing you some comfort.
The timer from your phone cut like a knife through your conversation.
You swallowed as you got up from the couch, Jake following you in tow, taking hold of your hand. Biting your lip as you eyed the flipped over test on the counter, Jake gave your hand a squeeze.
"Remember, whatever it says...we'll deal with it together. Ok?"
You nodded, tears starting to brim again. He gently took your face in his hands, swiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.
"I'll always be here, sweetheart." He placed a kiss to your forehead.
"Do you want me to flip it over, or do you want to?"
You swallowed, "Let's do it together."
He nodded, gently moving his hand with yours to grasp the plastic test.
"Alright, Lass, on the count of three."
Your breath grew shakier with each ascending number, clenching your eyes shut.
"3."
You could feel the test flip in your hand and Jake let out a shaky breath. From disappointment or relief, you couldn't be sure.
Opening your eyes, the black lettering stared back at you.
Pregnant.
__
Any who, just a little hypothetical to get the creative flow going :) There's more of Learning from the Best coming soon!
Summary: As princess of your kingdom, you have always been raised to do what is best for your peopleâtrained in the art of diplomacy and how to make decisions. You see no reason why you cannot govern your kingdom on your own, but your father has decrees that you should take a husband. Suitors have been sent from the different kingdoms surrounding your own, but you have no intention of choosing any of them. Youâll let them think they have a chance, squabbling amongst each other for your hand, but youâll show them all that you are a force to be reckoned with and taken seriously. (Medieval!Knight!AU)
Chapter CW: Death of a parent, World Building. Nothing too serious beyond that.
Word Count: 837
Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Blog Rules || Writing Rules
Once, you had believed the stories. You had been a little girl when your mother told you the story of how your kingdom came to be.
âThe lands we rule, sweeting,â she had smiled, dimples creasing her cheeks, âwere once the home of gods. Gods who ruled our people, and not too long after, they began to dwindle in numbersâmarrying human spouses and producing children that little by little became just like the people they ruled. From these gods come the noble families of Maverick. The blood of the old gods still run through their veins.â
You listened with rapt attention as she wove stories into the air, just as she wove and embroidered the tapestries that hung the halls of the palace you called home. You watched as your mother, the queen, walked the halls with her head held high and each step taken in grace. Youâd heard whispers from the courtesans and servants that your mother was a nymph from the sea past the cliffs whoâd fallen in love with your father. She left her home in the sea to live by his side, a noble queen for a powerful kingdom.
Once, you had believed in love. You watched the soft gazes your mother gave your father, the way the crinkles around his eyes would smooth as his eyes landed on her, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You watched as they danced, laughter echoing the room as they gazed adoringly at each other, seemingly unaware of those around them. You dreamed of a love like that, of what your future love would look like. Would your husband be handsome? Strong? Would he look to you for guidance as your father did with your mother?
Once, you believed in happy endings. Your mother spoke of the great heroes who conquered the reigning evil, the monsters falling where the heroâs sword pierced their heart. She spoke of the women who aided the hero in his quest, reminding you that without the knowledge of women, the hero was doomed to fail.
âItâs their strength,â your mother had said one day, âthat keeps a kingdom from falling apart during hard times and a people humble during the good.â
You stared at her with curious eyes, not quite understanding her meaning. She smiled at you, and you took a step towards her, stopping as the room began to spin. Your mother let out a shocked cry, lurching to catch you as you fell. Her hand felt cool as it cradled your face, and you let out a quiet whimper as she instructed her lady-in-waiting to fetch a doctor.
You donât remember how long you were sick for, but it felt like years as the fever ravaged your tiny body, your muscles aching as your lungs struggled with each breath. Through it all, your mother never left your side, her worried eyes never letting you out of her sight as she held you in her arms. You vaguely remember your father coming and going, hushed whispers exchanged with your mother as his own worry seemed to age him. You awoke one day, fever having broken, to the rays of sun brushing against your face. Your sickness seemingly cured, your nursemaids called after you as you raced down the halls to find your mother, but it was too late. Your mother was buried only days later, on a hill overlooking the sea from which she had come.
Your fatherâs eyes seemed dull after that, often staring at nothing as he lost himself in thought. It was a while before he smiled again, and even then it never quite met his eyes. You did your best as his only child, throwing yourself into your studies once you were old enough to understand what was expectedâno, neededâof you. You learned the art of diplomacy, studied law and battle strategy, all while learning how to conduct yourself as a proper lady within court. Your fatherâs courtiers and advisors insisted you reside yourself to playing the part of the helpless princess, doomed to be married off to the highest bidder or whomever would make the most advantageous match.
âYou must think of the man that will replace you, my king,â Aldred, one of the oldest advisors, had murmured to him one day. You had been walking past the throne room when you heard their conversation, and it had made your blood boil. Why should a man sit upon your fatherâs throne? You were his blood, his only child and heir. You were more than capable of ruling the kingdom as his daughter. It wasnât right, and you would make them see that. You didnât need to sell yourself to the nearest man in order for the kingdom to remain great and prosperous, no.
Once, you had believed the stories. Once, you had believed in love. Once, you had believed in happy endings. Now, you were grown, and you would carve your own path. One that did not require you to submit.
A/N: Well, we're off! Friendly reminder that I don't do taglists (please quit asking). You can, however, follow my sideblog: @arcanevagabond-library and turn on post notifications to be alerted about when I update! You can also find my fics cross posted on AO3 under arcane_vagabond.
Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.
18+, minors DNI
Chapter 20 | Series Master List | Ao3
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Chapter 21
The Jeep was silent, except for the road noise. Javy adjusted his grip on the wheel, the muscles in his jaw ticking as he stared straight ahead.
Your eyes darted over to him, a smile teasing the corner of your lips as you rubbed your belly. âYou alright, Javy?âÂ
His throat bobbed, eyes flitting to meet yours before returning to the road. âI canât watch you shit on the table.â
A mortified laugh burst from your mouth as you blushed. âI donât want you to see that either. I mean, hopefully, it doesnât happen, but - â
âDonât say âbutt,ââ he groaned.
âHowever,â you corrected, âfingers crossed, Mom will tap you out by the time I get to the pushing stage.â
âThank god. I love you, and I love baby Seresin-Machadoâ - heâd placed a hand on your belly during the parent introductions and enjoyed the appreciative looks from the other moms when you corrected them about him being the godfather - âbut watching you give birth might put me off sex forever.â
Smiling, you shifted in your seat and shook your head. The first birthing class had been interesting. Most of the time had been spent watching a movie you hadnât seen since 8th grade - The Miracle of Birth. While mildly traumatizing to watch as a middle schooler, it was worse seeing it now, knowing that you were a few short weeks away from experiencing it.Â
But what was even more amusing was watching Javy squirm. He silently gagged, hand over his mouth as he white-knuckled watching the baby crown. âDidnât you watch it in sex ed or something?â
âNo!â he huffed. âWe got a banana and condom, and how to make sure that didnât happen.âÂ
You couldnât help but laugh, taking out your phone and hitting record. âHey Jake - you wanted an update on how the classes went. Just here to tell you that weâve traumatized your best friend.â
âHangman,â Javyâs voice was solemn, and you flipped the camera toward him. His eyes darted away from the road briefly. âYou owe me. This was worse than some of the shi- stuffâŠâ he corrected with a grimace âthat we saw during second class Spring Break.â
âOh god, do I even want to know?â you asked. His answering grin was teasing.
âYour husband was pretty much the worst when we were in the Academy. And flight school. And FRO⊠actually, heâs just the worst in general. Whyâd you marry him again?âÂ
âHe got me pregnant.âÂ
âWell, he clearly didnât pay attention in sex ed,â Coyote laughed, and the camera panned back to you. Jake couldnât help but smile at the sight. You were smiling - really smiling, the corners of your eyes and nose crinkling - as you rolled your eyes.Â
âYour daughter demands a baked potato, so weâre heading to dinner. Iâll talk to you later. Love you!â You blew a kiss at the camera before the video stopped. The text had been waiting for him when he got off duty, and he wished it wasnât too late to call.Â
Jake anxiously counted the days until he got home. It felt like a race against time, especially when you hit 35 weeks pregnant in a few days. While you and Dr. Shearer had said that Sloane didnât seem like she would arrive anytime soon, he could only hope that his daughter listened to him and held on for as long as possible. And instead of hurrying home to your side, he was stuck in Japan again, the carrier taking its slow route back to the US.Â
But it wasnât just a race against time to get home for the birth that was keeping him up at night - Jake felt the gut-wrenching need to get home to you.Â
Guilt had eaten at him since seeing you cry on Christmas and worsened with the talk the day after. While he knew the deployment was hard, youâd done a good job hiding how much you struggled. Jake hated himself for not catching it. For not questioning when you were up late when he texted, only relishing the opportunity to talk to you. Not noticing that the smiles you sent him in pictures and videos didnât seem genuine or asking about the tears he sometimes thought he saw. Allowing himself to be distracted when you changed the subject the few times he tried to get a straight answer out of you.Â
âWe didnât even know each other when we got married.â
His ex-wifeâs words, casually stated but sharp as knives, taunted him. And, as much as he tried to drown them out, doubt crept in whenever he thought about you hiding your feelings from him.Â
Yes, the situation was different. Youâd been together for over a year, not just three months, when you got married. And heâd thought about proposing for a while instead of it being a drunken decision.Â
But you were pregnant when he finally did it. Jake couldnât bring himself to regret Sloane - he loved his little girl more than he ever thought was possible for someone he hadnât met yet - but⊠would you have said yes if she wasnât a factor?Â
âWeâre not going to sweat the short deployments.â
Youâd said that before he went to Vegas for two weeks. Right before calling him on his shit⊠trying to pull away when he realized heâd fallen hard for you. Bracing himself for another relationship ending because of his career.Â
Jake never thought youâd cheat, even though thatâs where youâd thought his mind went. No, he was thinking about the toll being apart would take on your relationship. The two weeks away seemed like a big deal back then, but now, at the tail end of five months apart, it was almost laughable that heâd worried back then.
Would you have married him if you knew this was your future - alone, pregnant, and halfway across the world from your husband? Hell, would you have let him stay with you in that grocery store parking lot or sent him packing? Talked to him when he approached you in the hangar, phone clutched in hand and taking a picture of the F-35 tail?
Was it what you still wanted?Â
Was he what you wanted?
The email from Admiral Tritz hit his inbox sometime overnight, congratulating him on being approved by the selection board to promote to Lieutenant Commander. Just like heâd promised after dropping the bomb that Jake was deploying on short notice. The official list wasnât released - there was no notice from NAVYADMIN, and that wouldnât go out until May - but Tritz had said he would be merit-promoted for the next fiscal year.Â
Accepting the promotion and pinning on those oak leaves would require reenlistment. After completing his initial service commitment, his current contract had only a year and a half left.
By the time the list was officially published, he would have just one year before never having to put you through another deployment. You wouldnât have to worry about moving - they wouldnât give him orders with so little time left - so you wouldnât have to leave a job you liked. You could buy a house in Lemoore or any place of your choosing.
Sloane could grow up in one place instead of moving around every few years like the two of you had.Â
Jake would be there to watch his little girl grow up, not missing months of her life when he deployed.Â
Before, accepting the promotion wouldnât have been a question - heâd always imagined himself serving his 20 years, if not more. The Navy was a way of life, and Jake Seresin felt the most alive sitting in the cockpit.Â
But that was before you.
Before he fell in love and realized how hard being apart was. Before discovering he would be a father and only having a few days to be part of the pregnancy. Before realizing what it meant to be away from his wife and kid for long periods.Â
In times like this, Jake wished he had someone to talk to about juggling family life and a military career. While a few people in his squadron had kids, he didnât feel close enough to ask them how they managed, and none of his close friends had them. As much as Mav was a mentor as an aviator, he hadnât been around to help raise his soon-to-be stepdaughter. The idea of asking his father was laughable and served more as a cautionary tale of what not to do.Â
But as Jake changed into his PT gear for a workout after making plans to meet up with Rooster in the wardroom for dinner, it dawned on him that he did have someone he could talk to.
Sorry for the early text, but do you have time to talk this weekend?
Even though it was almost three in the morning in Florida, the message was read immediately, and a text bubble popped up.
Everything okay?Â
Shit. He probably thought that something was wrong with you or the baby. Quickly, Jake responded - Yeah, everyoneâs fine. I just wanted your input on something.Â
Iâm free now. I'm just enjoying my coffee before work.
After hesitating, he sat at his desk and called his father-in-law. The call was answered on the first ring.
âHey, Jake. Whatâs on your mind?âÂ
Shifting on the couch, you shrugged, âI donât know.â Helen didn't say anything. You hated the silence. To stall, you sipped your decaf coffee while thinking through her question. âI justâŠI had ideas for how our first big deployment would go.â
âSuch as?"Â
âNot being pregnant,â you smirked. âSending sexy pictures in care packages, talking when we could⊠it wouldnât be a big deal. Iâd keep living my life, and he would live his.â
âYour husband doesnât find you sexy?â
Snorting, you blushed. You recalled him bending you over the bathroom vanity, making you watch as he fucked you in that damn cowboy hat and told you how sexy you were. Jake stroking his cock in the shower when you visited, his gaze drinking you in. His words echoed in your ears - âMama, Iâve dreamed about this.âÂ
âHeâsâŠâ you cleared your throat, âfine with how I look.â The corner of Helenâs mouth twitched as she raised an eyebrow. Your blush deepened, thinking of all the pictures and videos heâd taken in the hotel room, whispering how they would join his rotation. âMy husband is stuck in a floating city in the middle of the ocean with most of the other people being men. Turning him on wasnât exactly hard. Iâm just lucky - â you cut yourself off.Â
âLucky?â she prompted.
You took a deep breath and leaned forward, placing the coffee on the table. âJake was married before, and his ex cheated on him when he was deployed. He worried a lot about that and her health stuff their whole marriage. And his dad cheated on his mom all the time - theyâre a whole different set of problems,â you added with a roll of your eyes. âSo he is huge on not cheating. Which, of course, I would never do. And he would never. But my husband is really attractive.â Pulling out your phone, you flipped through your pictures, smiling as you landed on one of him mowing the lawn shirtless. Helenâs eyes flicked toward it when you turned the phone around. âI see the looks he gets. I trust him, butâŠâ
âYou donât feel attractive.âÂ
Nodding, tears welled in your eyes, and a spike of irritation shot through you. âI hate this. Iâm not this girl - I donât need male validation to feel good about myself. I donât need a man for anything! And yet I find myself sitting here, fucking crying because Jake's gone, and I feel like shit, Iâm not happy, and Iâm really fucking lonely. And I justâŠâ Hot tears fell as you bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a sob. Helen leaned forward and held out a tissue box. Taking one, you dabbed at your eyes and nose. âI thought itâd be easier. I thought I could handle being alone and doing all this because I saw my mom do it.â
âYouâre not meeting the standard you set for yourself.âÂ
âI told Jake I could do this, and Iâm... Iâm failing at it.â Blowing out a breath, you shook your head. âI-Iâm making this harder on him than it has to be. Heâs got bigger things to worry about than me falling apart at home.â
âYouâre not as important as his job.âÂ
âNo. I mean, yes,â you quickly corrected, twisting the tissue into knots. âMaybe? In a different way.â Helen stayed silent, tilting her chin to invite you to continue. âHis job is dangerous, and he loves it. But all it would take is a split second for something to go wrong. For him to get distracted and pull his focus away. A-andâŠâ
âYouâre a distraction.â Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded. âHave you spoken to your husband about how youâre feeling?âÂ
Sloaneâs foot tapped your fingers, and you smiled faintly at the memory of his words on the trip sheâd been conceived on. How heâd used your question about if the mission was dangerous as the opening to negotiations to get married. âHeâs one of the best. Heâd tell me not to worry.âÂ
âIâll take that as you havenât told him?â When you nodded, she set aside her notepad and pencil. âItâs easy for someone we love to tell us not to worry, but it doesnât make it go away. Did you feel like this before you were pregnant?â
âNot as badly. I worried, but it wasnât like this.â Helen nodded.
âDifferent things can contribute to increased anxiety. There are biological factors - hormone and neurochemical changes - that you can be experiencing. We can work with your doctor on medications for those or get you referred to a psychiatrist if youâd prefer specialist care. However, your environment and experiences can also be a contributing factor. Have you heard of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy?âÂ
âNo.â
She grabbed her notebook and flipped to a blank page, writing three words and drawing arrows between them. âCBT looks at the relationship between our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors and how they influence each other. For example, letâs say Iâm at work and have a thought that Iâm not good at my job. What emotions might that bring up?â
âI donât know⊠embarrassment.â
âThatâs one. What about others?â
âFrustration, anger⊠resentment?â
âMaybe fear?â Helen offered, and you nodded. âSo these emotions are brewing,â she pointed at âemotionsâ on the page before moving her pencil to âbehaviors.â âHow might those emotions show up in my work?â
âNot volunteering for stuff or calling out to avoid the problem.â
âMaybe isolating as well? Quitting?â
âThat seems pretty extreme.â
âIt does,â she agreed. âBut if I continue to have this thought of âIâm not good enoughâ and these emotions of embarrassment, frustration, anger, and resentment circling in my brain, that thought gets coded in there. It can create what we call a schema or a core belief. Core beliefs are our mental shortcuts in interpreting the world and spin off automatic thoughts. What comes to mind when I use that term?â
âSubconscious thoughts,â you said, putting your hands on your belly when Sloane kicked. âIntrusive ones, maybe?â
âAutomatic thoughts are just our brain processing stimuli as we go about our day - they can be good, bad, or neutral depending on the situation. It all depends on how we interpret that thought by running it through our core beliefs. Going back to the example, letâs say I mess up at work. With that core belief of âIâm not good enough,â what kind of automatic thoughts might shoot out?â
âItâs more proof I donât know what Iâm doing.âÂ
âYup. And it loops in all of those negative emotions we talked about earlier. So what we want to do is challenge those thoughts - push back on them to change our emotions and behaviors. How might I challenge that thought of messing up as more proof that I donât know what Iâm doing?â
âMistakes happen.â
ââTo err is humanâ and all that,â Helen smiled. âI can give myself a break. By thinking of an alternative realistic thought, Iâve pushed back on a cognitive distortion - a mental bias or flawed thinking. Like perfectionism, or ignoring the positive things in favor of focusing on the negative.â Taking a breath, she set her notepad down and leveled you with a look. You tensed. âWould you be okay if I share some things Iâve picked up on in our last few sessions?â
âSure,â you said hesitantly.Â
âCorrect me if Iâm wrong, but you see yourself as a very independent person.â
âIs that a bad thing?âÂ
âNo,â Helen said quickly. âIndependence is a good thing. However, it can cause some⊠friction⊠when your desire for autonomy and self-reliance butt up against situations where having a partner or someone to rely on might be beneficial. When you fixate on how you think things should be done, rather than how they are.â You just stared at her for a long moment.
âSo youâre saying Iâm stubborn.â The words fell from your lips, an accusation youâd heard many times.Â
âYou have high expectations for yourself. From what weâve discussed, a lot of responsibility fell on you at a young age. When your dad deployed, it was just you and your mom, and you moved a lot. And that combination instilled a lot of independence in you. It made it easier for you to adapt to new situations and face challenges and made you stronger. Andâ - she tilted her head again - âyou got a front-row seat to see how the military can influence a marriage. That up-close view contributes to your black-and-white thinking - you expect yourself to be that perfect spouse where you are independent and donât need your husband because otherwise, youâre failing and letting him down by wanting and needing that extra support. Youâre not allowing for the grey area, where you may succeed in some aspects but struggle in others. And, at the same time, youâre also measuring yourself against Jakeâs ex-wife and allowing that to shape your belief about how to be the best partner for him - one who doesnât place demands on him or cause additional stress.âÂ
You blinked at her, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. âAnd here I thought I just had control issues,â you said, trying and failing to sound flippant.Â
Helen leaned forward and offered you the tissue box. It took you a moment to realize your cheeks were damp again. âControl and perfectionism go hand in hand. Those cognitive distortions wonât be confined only to your marriage but will show up in other aspects of your life. Normally, I wouldnât tell a client that all at once. But does any of that ring true?âÂ
Clearing your throat, you nodded. âM-my therapist in college said something kinda similar. But am I⊠are we,â your hand fell to your stomach again. âAm I setting my daughter up for the same problem? Raising Sloane, knowing that Jake will be gone at times?âÂ
Helen encouraged you to do something to take care of yourself after the session. Leaving her office, you cried in the car, overwhelmed and happy youâd taken the rest of the day off. The house was too quiet when you got home, and you quickly changed out of your work clothes for something more comfortable. Sitting before the television, you let your eyes blur, thinking what you could do for yourself. Reuben had swung by your office and invited you to the bar after work for drinks and games, but you didnât want to deal with the bar scene. You always got dirty looks for being there, even when you were nursing a soda.Â
The sound of waves shook you from your stupor, and you watched the cruise commercial before pushing off the couch. It had been too long since youâd been to the beach. You couldnât help but think about the last time youâd stepped foot in the ocean, coral sand underfoot as Jake held you in Japan. In Florida, youâd made sure to go to the beach at least a few times a year, and always before New Year's Eve. It had been a nice way to wrap up the year, looking for small sand dollars in the surf and giving yourself time to reflect. Â
Throwing an overnight bag together, you sent a message to the group chat saying you were passing on the night out. Evening traffic held you up as you headed out of town, directions for the nearest beach pulled up. It was a two-hour drive, and you had to stop frequently to use the bathroom, but it felt good to be doing something. Hotels in the area were slightly cheaper in the off-season, and you found a cute bed and breakfast with ocean views.Â
When Jake responded to your text from the harbor when youâd grabbed dinner, you knew his question about the wisdom of being so far away from the hospital came from a place of love and concern, but it annoyed you. So when he asked if you were available for a call, you just texted back three words: I need this. Leaving the phone on the bed, you walked to the sliding glass doors, pushed them open, and collapsed into one of the patio chairs. Waves crashed in the bay across the street, and you let your eyes drift closed while listening to the noise from the nearby restaurant. When you went back inside, you had a few missed calls from him and two voice notes.Â
âIf goinâ to the beach is what you needed, Iâm glad youâre there. I just⊠never mind. Iâm gonna play basketball with the guys. Iâll try you again when Iâm done.â You felt a pang of hurt and regret at his frustrated tone and the abrupt cut-off. Your thumb hovered over the second note for a long moment before closing your eyes and tapping the screen. Jakeâs sigh greeted you, âI love you, darlinâ. I miss you. Do whatever you need to to feel better, but donât cut me out. Please.â
Sniffling, you brushed away the tears on your cheeks and held the phone up to record your voice note. âIâm sorry, babe. I love you, too. I had therapy earlier and feel a little⊠off. Gonna take a bath, so give me a call when youâre free.â
The hot water felt good as you sank into the tub, your belly exposed to the cool air. The parenting class had suggested a thermometer for the bathtub, and youâd tossed the little otter in to test it, along with some lavender-scented Epsom salts. Dr. Shearerâs nurse had given you the go-ahead for a hot bath - within reason - when youâd called earlier and asked if it was okay. Lowering yourself so the water covered your shoulders, you felt a smile tug at your lips. It felt so good to have a hot bath, even if you did have to promise to keep it short and a cold bottle of water within reach. Closing your eyes, you relaxed in the tub, smiling at the small waves that Sloane made when she shifted.Â
When the timer sounded, you groaned and turned it off. The water drained around you, lapping against your breasts, and you hesitated before drying off your hands and reaching for the phone again. Using your toes to close the drain, you held the camera up and stared at yourself on the screen. Your cheeks were flushed, and your hair piled on top of your head, loose strands curling around your face with the heat. Feeling slightly foolish, you sank lower in the water, so it just covered your nipples and snapped a picture. Quickly locking the screen, you got out of the tub and dried off. The towel couldnât wrap around your front when you tucked it around your chest, your belly-busting through the gap. Feeling ridiculous again, you took another picture before getting dressed.
After turning on the gas fireplace, you climbed into bed to ward off the January chill. The flames flickered across the room as you cuddled with your pregnancy pillow, wishing it was your husband. Grabbing your phone, you pulled up the pictures youâd just taken and studied them. They werenât⊠horrible. As much as you felt like a beached whale, they werenât the worst.
Groaning, you let the phone fall before lifting it again and flipping to your notes app. Helen told you to start tracking your negative thoughts about yourself and how you challenged them so you could talk about them in session. I feel like a beached whale you typed. The cursor blinked as you stared at the words and felt tears burning your eyes.Â
Iâm letting Jake and Sloane down quickly joined the list. And then they flowed out of you.
Iâm weak
Iâm going to be the reason Jake leaves the Navy
Jake will resent me for keeping him from doing something he loves
Heâs going to get hurt because of me
Iâm not going to be a good mom
Iâm failing as a wife
Jake isnât going to find me attractive
Iâm not strong enough to do this
Jake is going to leave me
Iâm just like his ex
Iâm the reason Jake wonât talk to his mom and sister
The screen changed as you typed another thought, switching to a picture of Jake. Sending the call to voicemail, you sat up and swiped at your tear-stained cheeks.Â
Another call came in, and you also sent that one to voicemail. Getting out of bed, you hurried to the bathroom to splash water on your face. The screen lit up with a text - Just tell me if you donât want to talk.
A sob burst from your mouth as you picked up the phone with shaking hands. I just need a minute. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you met your gaze in the mirror and told yourself to stop. You couldnât make Jake sit through another call when you were falling apart.Â
Sixty seconds later, the phone lit up again. Knowing you couldnât ignore another call, you turned on the sink and grabbed your electric toothbrush, hitting the on button before answering and putting it on speaker. âDarlinâ?âÂ
Turning off the toothbrush, you spit into the sink and splashed more water on your face, making enough noise that Jake would hear you. But just the sound of his voice made your throat tight, and you buried your face in the handtowel, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. âJust a minute,â you said, using the cloth to muffle your voice. After clearing your throat and breathing, you said, âHey.â
âHey.â You heard him clear his throat. âAre you mad at me, sweetheart?â
âFuck, Jake,â you snapped, tears starting to fall again.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âI just stopped crying, damn it.â And then, to your horror, the phone rang again as he tried to video call you. You denied it. As you scrambled to call him, he video-called again. When you declined it and called him, he picked up and hissed your name.
âI wanna see your goddamn face.â
âNo. C-canât we just t-talk?âÂ
âNo. Youâre just gonna fuckinâ lie to me again and tell me that everythingâs fine when itâs not. I canât trust you to tell me the truth unless Iâm lookinâ at you.âÂ
So when the video call came through, you snatched the phone up and glared at your husband sitting at the desk in his stateroom. âHappy?â you demanded.
âThrilled,â he shot back. âNothinâ I love more than seeinâ my wife in tears again.âÂ
âYou asked for it! We could have just talked on the phone and - â
âPretended everything was okay instead of you being honest with me?â
âIâm trying to make this easier for you!â
âStop making it easy on me!â Jake yelled, green eyes flashing with anger. âJesus fuckinâ Christ - just stop! Yell at me, make me feel like shit - tell me that Iâm the reason youâre depressed and that I abandon you when Iâm supposed to be with you. That Iâm letting my wife and daughter down by not being there to take care of you when you need me, and youâre already talkinâ to a lawyer about getting a divorce because you canât do this anymore, and - â
âJake - â
âYouâd have been better off not marrying me, and - â
âJake - â
âSloane is gonna hate me for being a deadbeat who - â
âJacob Michael!â You stared at him, wide-eyed with shock at his tirade. Jakeâs face flushed, his chest heaving like heâd been running. As you watched, he dropped his head into his hands, fingers tugging on his hair so harshly you wished you were there to stop him. âStop,â you said softly.Â
âI canât,â he mumbled.Â
âYes, youâŠâ You trailed off when he lifted his head, and you saw his tearful eyes. âHoney, are - are you alright?â
That made him chuckle, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, his wedding band glinting. âYouâre supposed to be yelling at me, darlinâ.â
âIâm not gonna yell at you.âÂ
âYou should. I deserve it.âÂ
âWhy?â At that, he scoffed and started ticking the reasons off his fingers.
âI knocked you up and then got hit with a deployment a week later. And made you marry me before I left. Then - â
âYou didnât âknock me up,ââ you said, putting a protective hand over your belly. That phrasing felt⊠wrong. âWe got pregnant. And then decided to get married a little faster than we initially planned.â
âI still left you.â
âYou didnât want to.âÂ
âStill makes me a shitty husband and father.âÂ
âI⊠I feel like Iâm a shitty wife and mom,â you said softly.
âYouâre not.â
âYouâre not, either.â Taking the moment of silence as an opportunity to leave the bathroom, you settled in a chair by the fire. It threw just enough light to see your face but gave you cover to feel comfortable admitting, âI-Iâm afraid youâre gonna leave the Navy because of me.â Jakeâs jaw ticked, and he looked away from the camera. Your heart lept into your throat.
âI donât know how long I can do this, darlinâ. But if I separate, itâs gonna be my choice.â
Drawing in a shaky breath, you shook your head. âJake, I know itâs been hard but - â
âI got the promotion.âÂ
âYou did? Congra - â
âI have to sign on for three more years if I accept it.â You stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly.Â
âOkay. We can do that.â
âSweetheart. I donât know if I can do that. This deployment has been the worst one Iâve been on, and I donât know if I can do it again. Beinâ away from you was hard enough, but next time, Iâll be away from Sloane, too. Realistically, weâre lookinâ at another five years - minimum - if I do it. Thatâs five years of maybe missing birthdays, anniversaries, her firsts⊠I donât know if itâs worth it.â
âB-but you love flying.â
âI do. But I love my girls more. And I can find different ways of doing it.â He sighed when he saw the flash of your teeth as you chewed your lip. âSay it. And turn on a light so I can see you.âÂ
Staying put, you closed your eyes, unable to see him when you forced the words out. âIâm afraid youâre gonna blame me if youâre unhappy if you separate. Iâm afraid Iâm making your life harder like your ex-wife.âÂ
There was silence for a long moment, then the sound of metal scraping. Opening one eye, you saw Jake pacing, hands back in his hair. You watched, wishing you were there to hold him. Finally, he turned back to the camera and growled, âI want to see you when I say this, darlinâ, so turn on a damn light.â Reluctantly, you stood and moved to the bed, flicking on the lamp and pulling one of the arms of your pregnancy pillow over your lap. Leaning on the desk, he stared at you, his expression stern. âIf and when I leave the Navy, itâs gonna because I want to. Weâll discuss it, but when Iâm done, Iâm done.â
âI can do this, Jake. I - â
âWhen,â he spoke over you, âI am done, Iâm done. I will not lose my family because of the military.â
âYou wonât,â you muttered. He ignored you and continued.Â
âYou, Sloane, and any other kids we have will come before my job. And I will tell you every day until you get it through your thick, beautiful skull - you are my priority, darlinâ. Nothinâ else matters but you and our family. Understood?âÂ
âJa - â
âUnderstood?âÂ
âYes, Lieutenant Seresin, sir!â you snapped, giving him a mocking salute.Â
âPause.âÂ
âWhat?â
âPause,â Jake repeated, disappearing from the screen as you resisted the urge to disconnect the call. When he returned, he held up a well-worn paper before reading from it. âUpdate four - âParties agree not to walk out on arguments. Parties agree to request a âpauseâ if necessary and will finish the discussion when cooler heads prevail.â You wrote it, darlinâ, so Iâm calling a pause.âÂ
âFine,â you huffed, blinking back tears at the reappearance of the contract. His having it with him made your heart skip a beat. You watched him read over it again before shaking his head.
âWe never updated this. We need to.âÂ
âItâs stupid.â His eyes shot to yours, and he shook his head.
âItâs not. I take this as seriously as our vows, sweetheart. But we need to figure out what anniversary weâre gonna update it on.âÂ
âYou only want one anniversary.â
âBut you want two - a sentimental one and our wedding anniversary. So whatâs it gonna be? When are we gonna update this instead of doingâ - he paused to look at the paper again - ââad hoc meetings to discuss clauses and conditions as they ariseâ?â A smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head.Â
âPretty sure it says âannual dating contractâ at the top, Seresin. So that would put it up for review in a few months.âÂ
âGonna have to rename it to âannual marriage contract,â Seresin,â he shot back.
âGonna add it to your list of updates you want?âÂ
âYup. Right up there with you sending me more dirty pictures.â You flushed, looking away from the camera. âMrs. Seresin,â Jake said, his tone teasing. âYou have something to tell me?âÂ
Jake got you to send the two pictures youâd taken earlier in the night through cajoling and pleading. And when heâd started talking about how sexy you were in them, you tried to shut it down without success, which kicked off the fight again, your husband begging you to understand how attractive he found you.Â
It was lucky that Rooster and Fritz were on liberty because the call lasted hours. You plugged in your phone when the battery almost died, set it down when it overheated, and your arm tired of holding it up. A few more pauses were called, and you couldnât help but chuckle when Jake pointed out that you were both going all out for your third official fight of the relationship.Â
And, as hard as it was to hear, it was good that you were fighting. Sure, your husband calling you a âcreepy Stepford wife version of the woman I fell in love withâ wasnât exactly great. Still, he didnât really appreciate being called âan arrogant asshole who would prefer to martyr yourself instead of listening to your fucking wife and letting her decide what she can and canât take.â But for the first time since finding out he was deploying, it felt like you and Jake were being honest with one another about how you felt. About how hard navigating the pregnancy, deployment, and first months of your marriage had been for both of you.Â
At some point, you fell asleep during a pause. When you woke the following day, you scrambled to grab your phone and was greeted with a message from Jake.
I love you. Youâre the best thing that ever happened to me. I canât wait to get home and show you exactly how much I love you and our daughter. Only 6 more weeks, darling.Â
----------------------------------------------
Author's Note: Did I have to write extensively about CBT? Probably not, but it's my favorite modality to use. It was kind of fun writing Jake and Darlin' fighting because they don't do it that often, but was definitely needed to clear the air. It was fun going back through some of their highlights from previous chapters. Not to mention Jake realizing that he has a whole other family that he can lean on now, and calling his father-in-law for advice.
And Javy continues to be the best godfather.
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Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.
Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.
She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.
"Are you ready?"
Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."
You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.
"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"
Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."
"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks.Â
"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."Â
Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.
"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.
"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."
A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.
"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.
"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."
He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.
"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.
"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."
He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.
He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring.Â
Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"
"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."
You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.
"It's a girl."
He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.
"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."
Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.
----------------------------
Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.
"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.
You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.
When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.
But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.
Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite.Â
When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.
"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.
Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."
You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.
A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.
"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.
When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.
-----------------------------
Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.
As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."
"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"
Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"
Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."
She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."
Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.
"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"
"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"
Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"
"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"
"Yeah."Â
She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.
"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.
"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"
----------------------------
After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.
He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag.Â
"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.
"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.
"What?"
"The word dumbass written across your forehead."
He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.
"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.Â
Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."
Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"
Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"
"Huh?"
"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."
"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.
"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.
"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.
"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.
"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."
"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.
"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."
Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.
If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.
Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.
Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.
"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."
"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"
Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.
"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"
Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.
"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."
"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"
"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.
"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."
"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.
Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.
"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"
"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.
But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have?Â
"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."
Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.
This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.
Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.
Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.
Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately.Â
Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.
When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.
Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.
"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."
-----------------------------
Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
It made me so happy to see Natasha and Jake making sure Bradley knew what the fuck was up with indigo, and also that they would not hesitate to protect BG đ„č thatâs real friendship right there
Summary: This year has thrown you through a loop. You lost your job, you moved to San Diego, and you reunited with your summer crush from all those years ago who still is just as handsome as ever. As the clock ticks down, you canât help but wonder what the new year might have in store for you.
Pairing: Bradley âRoosterâ Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 9k
Warnings: fluff and two pining idiots in love
(Authorâs note: this one is for the hopeful romantics! Happy New Year, friends!)
Youâve always loved New Yearâs Eve. The excitement, the fun, the champagne, the confetti. Everyone riding the high of the hope and potential of the new year ahead.
But tonight, you were on the clock instead of watching as it inched closer and closer to midnight with every tick of the second hand.
The evening has been a whirlwind of cheerful faces as you pour pint after pint of frothy, cold beers. Your arms were definitely feeling the burn of all the margaritas and whiskey sours youâve been serving up. You were putting all your well-earned practice from the last four months of working at the Hard Deck into good use for the steady stream of Naval patrons who had come to gather and celebrate.
But you liked the steady flow. It kept you focused; it kept you busy. With your head down and your thoughts occupied with tasks and orders and drink recipes and tabs, it spared you from having to see Bradley with the girl in the silver dress who was making it more than clear whose midnight kiss she was after.
Bradley Bradshaw had been the star in all your daydreams growing up. You just never could have anticipated that you still wouldnât be able to kick that summer crush on him, even all these years later.
This year⊠hadnât been the greatest.
The meeting youâd thought was going to be the start of a new chapter in your career with that promotion youâd been hoping and working so hard for had ended with you clearing out your desk and turning in your ID badge, but not even the decent severance package they sent you out the door with could have cushioned that blow.
Youâd been laid off from your tech job just in time for your industry to be hit with hiring freezes so glacial it felt like there must have been a breakthrough in global warming, as if the ice caps werenât melting.
You spent days then weeks then months applying and interviewing on repeat like a groundhogâs day from hell, only to encounter more closed doors than open ones. Had enough ever-so-casual networking coffee chats that you were pretty sure youâd need to switch to decaf if you still wanted to have some functioning adrenal glands by the time you were fifty.
Coming close- so, so close- so many times. Having the final decision come between you and another candidate only for your fingertips to slip off the edge at the very last moment.
Still freefalling the same way youâd been since youâd first been let go.
With your savings dwindling and spirits low, youâd decided that what you needed most was to decompress and reassess. And where better than the place where some of your favorite memories had been made.
All it had taken was one call to your Aunt Penny for the little strands of silver lining to peek out from behind the gray clouds that had filled your skies lately.
By the end of the conversation not only did you have a place to land- the furnished loft above the garage with an ocean view from the tiny kitchen- but also a just-for-now job too, getting to work with her at the bar. Something to help get you back on your feet while the dust of your imploded life settled around you as you figured out your next move.
You werenât known for staying in any place too long as it was, so it had been easy to pack up and leave the city youâd been living in for the Southern California sun, feeling lighter than you had in ages.
Your momâs longtime best friend was quite possibly one of your favorite people on Earth. And still is.
There was nothing you looked forward to more than those summers you got to spend in San Diego, when you got to trade your textbooks for days out on the boat. Your family would rent at home near the Benjamin beach house and for almost two months it was carefree days of endless blue water and sand between your toes.
But without a doubt, the highlight of your summer was always Bradley Bradshaw.
A few years older than you, heâd been the cute boy who was the object of all your daydreams. You couldnât remember who you first celebrity crush was, but you definitely remembered the boy with the curly brown hair who was responsible for giving you butterflies in your stomach for the very first time.
While your brother was more than fine trying to ditch you at every turn, Bradley had always made you feel like you were right where you were supposed to be. He always made you feel included. He had been the one to teach you how to wakeboard, gave you his free dole whip when he made a hole-in-one at Tiki Town, and sat next to you the first time you ever rode the Giant Dipper Roller Coaster.
Even though Penny and Mavâs relationship had been on and off for years, Bradley had remained a steady presence in your life every July and August.
Until the one summer when he didnât show up.
Youâd sat on the stairs with your arms wrapped around your knees that first night and listened on as your mom and Penny talked, piecing together the explanation for Bradleyâs absence and why your aunt was dating the uninteresting man youâd met earlier that night at dinner.
The sun, the sand, and the sights were all the same. And yet everything had changed after that.
That had been your last San Diego summer.
You moved on, you went to college, you grew up. But you had never forgotten the boy who had made you feel like sunshine.
Youâd always hoped he remembered you just as fondly.
When you heard that Penny and Mav were back together, you thought there might be a chance to see him again, you were always curious about how things had turned out for you. You just never expected for him to quite literally crash back into your life.
Or for all of those sun-warmed feelings came rushing back.
It was your third day of working at the Hard Deck.
You were still getting use to the lay of the land- and announcing corner whenever you made your way out of the stockroom- when youâd come out of the back with your arms full of refill napkins packs only to collide with a wall of muscles with a less than dignified oof.
âOh, shit!â The hand that reached out to grasp your hip was probably the only reason you hadnât landed on your ass, even as the napkins went everywhere. âSorry, that was my- wait, Bee?â
The nickname from your younger years was exclusively reserved for close family and friends. Shortened over time from busy bee, a name your mom still wrote in your birthday and Christmas cards, because of the way you were always pursuing new activities with the kind of intense tenacity only found in the most precocious of kids.
Although, no one whoâd known you squarely post-braces had ever called you that before. And definitely not anyone so solidly built with such a masculine, raspy voice.
But you knew those rich brown eyes and sun-streaked curls.
Just like you knew that under the soft looking linen blend shirt thereâd be freckles dotted along his shoulder. Just like you knew that he was left-handed but preferred to throw a baseball with his right. Just like you knew he rode the Beach Blaster four times in a row that one time, not because he liked it, but because he was trying to get over his fear of heights.
âBradley?â The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smile, seemingly pleased you recognized him. âBradley Bradshaw?â you repeat, because even though he was standing less than three feet away from you, your brain was having a hard time processing the boy youâd known was now the man in front of you.
You hadnât seen him since you were fifteen.
Although, you did try to look him up once in college when you and your roommates were tipsy off cheap sparkling wine and talking about first crushes. Giggling over poor choices and high-fiving over the ones who still Had It. Only when it was your turn, youâd found out pretty quick that he wasnât on any socials- at least none that the four of you could sleuth out drunk on sheer determination and peach Andre. Theyâd let you have the rest of the bottle as a consolation prize when youâd all come up emptyhanded.
Bradley Bradshaw had remained a mystery to you, until that moment.
Gone was any trace of baby fat from his familiar face, replaced with a defined jaw and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. There were scars on his cheek and neck that hadnât been there before, but the smile underneath that mustache was the same one from those summers all those years ago.
âItâs been a long time, huh?â Bradley said.
The only difference was the cute boy youâd known growing up was now quite possibly the most handsome man youâd ever seen.
âHowâd you get even hotter?â you blurted. It only took a split second for your brain to catch up with your mouth, wincing at the words that hung in the air unable to take them back.
Bradleyâs eyes widened in surprise just for a moment before he laughed. Loud and unguarded and amused.
Mortified and flustered you drop down to your knees to pick up the scattered brown craft paper wrapped bundles of napkins that littered the narrow hallway. His presence- and bulk- filling up the already small space.
He kneeled down next to you, helping to collect the packs. âI donât know about âhotterâ, but probably taller since that last time I saw you.â You couldnât help but notice how big his hands were as he reached for the furthest one that was sent flying as victim of your two-person Big Bang.
And broader, you think.
âWeâve been doing a lot of push-ups lately,â Bradley chuckled, âI keep telling the squad to stop underestimating the old man, but they never learn. Theyâre still just as competitive as ever.â
âJesus,â you muttered under your breath, needing a rock to crawl under. You couldnât remember the last time you felt that ruffled around a man before. So caught off guard that all semblance of casually cool had left the building. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, and attempted to diffuse the situation with some self-deprecating humor, âWell, I wish second puberty had been as kind to me as it was for you.â
âFrom what I can see, it looks like it was pretty damn kind to you too.â
Youâd pressed your lips together and fought back grin as you shook your head, reaching for another bundle. The last thing youâd needed was for him to be charming too.
You felt his gaze on the side of your face, like he was trying to catch your eye, and when you couldnât avoid it any further without making it weird you met those warmer than cinnamon brown eyes.
âItâs good to see you again.â There was an earnest smile still in place on his face as he passed you the napkins heâd collected from his side of the hall.
He looked at you- probably the same way youâd been looking at him only a couple moments ago- trying to reconcile the carefree girl with the stunned woman in front of him, seeing what changes could be picked out on a face that hadnât been seen in over a decade. You didnât dare call it interest that was flickering in his eyes, but you could safely say there was at least some curiosity reflected in them.
You knew he wasnât flirting, just trying to make you feel better less awkward about your earlier slip. Playing along the same way he did when heâd sabotage your brother at the water gun war game at Belmont Park so that you could stand a chance at winning a stuffed animal prize.
âItâs good to see you again, too,â you replied, meaning it as you gave him a smile of your own for the first time and watching as his own grew a little wider.
âBee? Did you find them? The napkins should be-â Penny came rounding the corner, taking in the scene in front of her and who youâd been delayed by. Your whole body jolted like sheâd caught you playing 7 Minutes in Heaven instead of crouching on the floor. âOh, I see youâve found Rooster. And the napkins.â
âIt was my bad, Penny, I plowed right into her,â Bradley- Rooster?- said standing back up, wrapping a hand under your elbow to help guide you up to your feet.
âSorry, Iâll be right there,â you told her, gesturing with your napkin filled arms. He was quick to reach out and catch one of the slipping packs from the top of the pile before it could fall to the ground again, helping you to get them better situated and less like a Jenga stack waiting to collapse.
âThereâs no rush. I just wanted to make sure you were finding everything alright.â Her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of you, before landing on him and flicking down to the hand still on your elbow. âHey, since youâre here, would you mind grabbing a fresh keg of the Stone Brewing lager for me?â
He nodded, letting go of you and hooking his thumbs into his front pockets. âSure thing, can do.â
âThank you, Bradley. And Bee,â she continued, turning back to you, âYou can just bring those up when youâre ready.â You didnât know what to make of the smile she gave you before sheâd set off back to the bar.
The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, although it hadnât been the uncomfortable kind.
Bradley cleared his throat, his mouth quirking to one side. âI feel like thereâs some kind of âthe birds and the beesâ joke here. One Iâm not qualified to make since you were always the funnier one of the two of us.â
That time it was your turn to laugh. You were more than a little pleased when his deeper one mixed with yours.
You warred with yourself- still holding those damn napkins- whether or not to wrap things up and go take them to Penny, but you wanted to know more.
âRooster?â youâd asked, tilting your head at him in question.
âBelieve it or not, I finally got past that fear of heights,â he explained, âIâm a pilot now.â You felt your smile grow on its own, it was something heâd always talked about. You were happy to learn heâd made it happen for himself. âRooster is my callsign.â
It was a name youâd heard a few times since moving into the loft above the garage. The way Penny said it always made it seem like you should know who she was talking about, you just hadnât taken a moment to ask, figuring that youâd meet this mysterious âRoosterâ eventually. You just never would have guessed you already knew him.
You told him as much, adding on, âMaybe she thought weâd kept in touch.â
âI would have liked that.â You ignored the fluttering low in your stomach. There was something in his voice that made your mouth go a little dry. âWhatâre you doing later? Are you here for long? Iâd like to catch up, if you have time for an old friend.â
Friend.
The word shook you out of whatever Bradley Bradshaw induced haze youâd found yourself in.
You didnât know how long you were going to be here, but one thing was for sure, all the two of you were ever going to be was platonic. It was a necessary reminder before any coconut sunscreen scented daydreams tempted you off course.
A smile stayed plastered to your face, one that felt more forced than it had been a few heartbeats ago, âIâm behind the bar until midnight, but Iâll be your friendly neighborhood bartender for the foreseeable future.â
Bradley grinned. âGuess, Iâll be seeing you around then, Bee.â
âI guess you will, Rooster.â
And you did.
You went from not seeing Bradley Bradshaw for over a decade to seeing him multiple times a week.
He kept you company at the bartop, swiveling on his stool, on slow nights as you found little projects to keep yourself occupied, like polishing and reorganizing the Hard Deckâs glassware collection. Filling each other in on the important things and people that had helped shaped the two of you into the adults that youâd grown into.
Rooster introduced you to his friends and teammates, making you feel not only included but liked you belonged in that same way he had when you were kids. Seamlessly bringing up common interests you shared with the people closest to him, giving you something to connect with them on your own outside of him. Always taking the initiative to extend invites your way to hang out at the beach or to check out the best spot for breakfast or to experience a Padres game complete with an unofficial culinary food tour of Petco Park.
He helped you paint the kitchenette in the loft a soft blue- with your auntâs permission, of course. Meticulously taping off the countertop edges and cabinets, yet somehow ending up wearing more paint on an old, tightfitting UVA shirt that had seen better days than he got on the wall. Â
And on Sunday nights he was seated across from you at the oak dining table with Amelia, Penny, and Pete for the weekly dinner the five of you all had together. Theyâd been back together for over a year now, and it seemed like it was for good this time based on the way they looked at each other. Your aunt was noticeably happier than sheâd been even just a few years ago, that spark back that had been dimmed from an unhappy marriage.
You were happy for her and Mav.
Heâd even taken you for a spin on his motorcycle. It was a one and done event, reaffirming what you already knew, that you were more of a four-wheel girl than a two-wheel one.
When you werenât at the bar or working on the few remote side gigs youâd taken on to keep your skills feeling fresh, you were helping Amelia learn to code. It wasnât your forte, but you were having fun spending time with her and teaching her what you did know. And in return, sheâd help you to revamp your wardrobe a bit. You thought California cool looked good on you.
There had been a brief moment when youâd been packing up your old apartment when youâd worried about being lonely in San Diego not knowing anyone outside of your family, but you were the furthest thing from lonely and you had Bradley to thank for that.
It was nice to have friend.
However, you were finding that crush on him harder to get over than you anticipated.
You still get annoyed at yourself when he smiles at you a certain way making your cheeks heat up and your stomach flip. Although, you try not to be too hard on yourself because heâs genuinely kind and good looking and youâre only human. God knows youâve seen enough people notice him too from your perch behind the bar.
But there were worse problems to have.
You had spent that morning getting the Hard Deck decorated for the big New Yearâs Eve party.
As the first to arrive, youâd gotten the coffee going on the ancient coffee maker that you were trying your hardest to get Penny to replace when a big hand skimmed the side of your waist, reaching past you to steal the cup youâd just poured for yourself.
You turned to see a sleepy looking Bradley standing behind you, his curled looked more like they were fresh off his pillow than the way you usually saw them styled.
âItâs too early for this.â You watched as he took a big swig from the cup, wincing as he registered just how hot Jimmyâs machine had brewed the coffee, just a couple degrees below scalding.
You gave him an unimpressed look, âSays the man who routinely wakes up at 5am for a sunrise run.â
âItâs the weekend, Bee,â Bradley said like it explained everything.
âItâs a Wednesday.â
âSchematics.â He took another deep sip of your coffee, but not before you caught the mischievous way his mouth was curved upwards. âEveryone knows the days between Christmas and New Years Day are the Wild West of the calendar year, every day is a weekend day from the 26th to the 1st.â
You actually hadnât seen Rooster since Christmas.
Youâd decided to spend the holiday in San Diego since your parents had decided this was the year they were finally going to check out the Christmas markets in Europe like theyâve always wanted too. And you didnât want to crash your brotherâs first Christmas as a dad, instead youâd sent the most obnoxious baby toy you could find online in addition to a silky soft stuffed rabbit with your nieceâs name embroidered on the ear.
When you opened the front door with the pretty stained glass sailing boat picture window, youâd been surprised to see Bradley standing there with a white faux fur trimmed Santa hat and holding a bag with unexpectedly well wrapped presents in one hand and a creamy, cranberry-colored pie in the other.
Your hand stayed glued to the doorknob as his eyes trailed over you. The house had been warm but a shiver still worked its way through your body as he took in your festive pajamas.
Before he could say anything Amelia ever-so-helpfully pointed out the mistletoe youâd conveniently forgotten about that had been hung above the wood door. Frankly, she sounded a bit too enthusiastic about it.
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like little punk, although his tone was so affectionate that you thought you must have misheard him. But you didnât get to think on it for too long because then he was leaning in, in, in.
Your heart shot straight into your throat at the first prickle of his mustache and then the slightly dry lips as they brushed against your cheek for the briefest of moments.
And then he pulled away all too soon.
Friend. Friend. Friend. You tried to remind yourself, but your heart was too aflutter to get the message.
He looked you straight in the eyes as he stepped back, âCan you do me a favor, Bee?â
You must have made a sound that was close enough to an mhm, because then he passed you the bag of presents and the pie waiting only long enough to make sure you had a good hold on them both before darting around you to chase after Amelia.
Amelia squealed when Bradley caught her, ducking his head down to drop a playfully chaotic kiss on her cheek.
He ended up giving Penny and Mav the same treatment too. Although Pete shoved him away good-naturedly when he tried to plant a particularly sloppy one on him.
All while your feet stayed glued to the same spot they were when he kissed you.
But that was six days ago. Probably the longest stint without seeing him since you collided with him that afternoon a few months ago.
The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon had coaxed you back into the moment, and youâd shook your head a bit like that would help you clear your mind with Bradley standing so close to you again.
âI donât think itâll take us too long,â you declared, trying to get focused back on the task at hand- that being the unofficial head of the NYE decorating committee, âI even made us a schedule.â
âOf course you did. Is it color-coded?â he asked over the rim of the chipped mug.
âAnd if it is?â you countered, unashamed of your planning. And then there was that damn smile of his.
âThen Iâm really going to need this coffee,â he winked, and poured you a cup of your own.
Youâd been right though. With everyone pitching in things came together rather quickly.
The morning moving steadily as the Christmas decorations were replaced with classic the gold and white and black color scheme youâd went with for the party. The silver tinsel tree covered in beach themed shaped ornaments with a few planes hung about by the front door might have stood out at odds with everything else, but metallic was a neutral in your book so youâd opted to keep the cheerful tree up just a little bit longer and tucked a few party blowers into the branches to tie it in with the rest of the space.
It was easy for you to get in the zone, delegating and divvying up the tasks on your color-coded schedule, putting all your project tracking skills to use. There were dozens of strands of string lights that had to gone up on the ceiling and along the walls. All of the windows with the snowflake cut outs you and Amelia had made for Christmas were framed in a metallic fringe. There was a station with hats and headbands and glasses in case anyone was feeling particularly festive. The tables and booths had been stocked with noise makers and confetti poppers in addition to the mirrorball centerpieces and confetti scatter.
Everything sparkled and shined, the light bouncing off everything gave the bar a wonderfully hazy glow, it was the perfect ambiance for the most hopeful night of the year.
At one point, youâd been working on hanging up some dangling golden stars from one of the ceramic mug rounders only to find Bradley standing there at the base of the ladder behind you with a well-defined arm stretched out just in case you lost balance.
And then just like that, your focus went out the window. Because then he was everywhere. He made it impossible for you to not notice him, especially since so many of your jobs and his overlapped, something youâd come to regret more and more as the hours went by.
Youâd been working on tying off balloons and lamenting the fact you didnât order another pump with the tying tool, when youâd decided to take a break to massage your numb fingertips. You looked up to check the progress made with fresh eyes, to see Rooster on a ladder helping Mav to get the netting set up for the balloon drop.
The athletic shorts heâd been wearing were hanging low on his hips. And as he reached up to hand Pete another nail it caused his t-shirt to ride up giving you a glimpse of toned stomach and tantalizing v-lines. It was just as tempting as it was taunting.
Youâd switched to ice water after that.
The image was seared into your mind for the rest of the afternoon. Not even the freezing cold shower youâd hopped into the second you made it back to your loft to freshen up before the party had helped. Neither had the rushed orgasm to take the edge off, because it wasnât your own fingers that you wanted.
Heâd found you before the party well and truly started.
Youâd been double checking all the prep, making sure you had the bar stocked up as was possible without losing any valuable space, when you felt a hand on your back. Bradley was dressed up in a navy suit that fit him in all the right places, looking more handsome than you knew possible. All broad shoulders and thick thighs. The top button of his pristinely pressed white shirt undone, giving you a peek at the divot base of his throat.
You werenât sure what made you more flustered, that hint of his neck or the skin under his bellybutton that youâd seen only a couple hours ago.
A soft smile coasted over his face as he took in your New Yearsâ Eve finest. âYou look-â
âI know, rhinestones for New Yearsâ Eve, how groundbreaking,â you joked, cutting him off and giving your best Miranda Priestly impression.
You were wearing a black velvet jumpsuit for the party. You loved the way it fit the curves of your body and the way the halter top made your collarbones and shoulders look. There was just a hint of skin with the keyhole near the bust. But it was also practical- right down to your plain black no-show panties you had on- so you could move easily without worrying about giving anyone an eyeful. It wasnât the flashiest of outfits, thereâd be more than enough sequins later on, but the way Bradley was looking at you made it feel like your off the rack might as well be haute couture.
âI was going to say, you look good. Really good.â Bradley takes his time letting his eyes drag down your body, his cheek kicking up when he lands on your shoes. âI especially like the birks, they tie the whole look together.â
The clogs you were wearing were decidedly unsexy, not many people could pull of the potato shoe, but you werenât there as a party guest, you still had work to do and your night was just getting started. âI donât think stilettos and stouts would mix together very well,â you said by way of explanation.
Bradley chuckled and reached out taking an end of the little rhinestone bow that dangled from right beneath your neck where the straps met and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. âI think this might be my favorite part though,â he rasps lowly. There was an intensity in his eyes directed at you that you hadnât seen before.
For a moment it looked like he was about to say more, and then a glass shattered.
The sound of it caused you to crash back into your body.
âAnd so it begins,â you announced, taking a half step backwards and out of his touch, that rhinestone cord falling back against your sternum with a gentle thud that you felt reverberate in your chest.
You heard him say your name, but you were already setting off for a broom.
So youâd kept your head down and your hands busy.
It felt like for every drink you made, two more were ordered. Barely noticing as the final minutes of this year flew by while you garnished drinks with bright cherries and slices of lemon with a flourish before handing them off.
Offering smiles and well wishes to those here to celebrate. True to your namesake as you swiped cards and counted bills and mixed and poured and served the drinks to the ever-rotating people in front of you.
You made eye contact with Rooster a couple times throughout the night, the same way you usually did when you were behind the bar and he was there. Eyes drawn to him like a magnet against your will.
He hadnât come up to you at all since before the party started. Youâd seen him with the Daggers when you went to refill the water tank, heard the keys of the upright piano when you grabbed more ice from the back room, saw him talking with the girl in the shiny dress and her interested eyes as you put the freshly washed glasses away.
Just like heâd been the best parts of your San Diego summers, heâd become the best part of your year.
Youâd spent the last four months trying to convince yourself that it was a silly crush, that you could will it away or get over it. But now just a couple moments shy of a new year barreling towards you, it was time to face the fact that Bradley Bradshaw wasnât someone you were ever going to get over.
Although if you were honest with yourself, you werenât sure you wanted to get over him.
Youâre giving the counter a quick wipe down, taking advantage of the brief lull when the music cuts off, startling you out of your thoughts.
Twelve!
The countdown had snuck up on you. Just like everything else had this year.
Eleven!
Youâd had your fill of unexpected surprises, some for the worse and some for the better. While it felt like youâd had more downs than ups, you were ending the year feeling the most content you have since you were laid off. And that was more than good enough for you.
Ten!
At the beginning of this year, you never would have guessed that youâd end it in San Diego. This year had taken from you, but it had also given you a lot. New friends, new places to explore, new memories, new hopes.
Nine!
You were still figuring things out and that was ok. Even though you still werenât sure what was next for you, you knew everything would work out. One way or another youâd find yourself on the other side of this and able to look back with pride for making it through all the challenges that had been thrown your way.
Eight!
And while things didnât shape out the way you anticipated them to, with goals still yet to be achieved and a vision board of ideas that youâd carry into the new year, you had so much to be grateful for.
Seven!
You liked San Diego- and not in the just-for-now way. You liked the life you were building here. You liked the beach and the sand and the sun. You liked you Sunday dinners with Penny and Amelia and Pete. You liked the people you were surrounded by. You liked the stories youâve collected from your side of the bar. You liked the diner down the road with their perfectly shaped coffee cups. You liked your new normal while you got your feet back under you. You liked the potential you felt was here.
Six!
And then there was Bradley.
Five!
You were avoiding looking in his direction, too worried about what you might see, not wanting to end this year with another disappointment. Youâve come to accept that he had a piece of you that you werenât sure you were ever going to get back. But that was something for you to deal with next year.
Four!
For now, you are right where you are supposed to be.
Three!
Because what is meant for you will never pass you by. Not in life and not in love. And that was something you could count on, something you could hold onto.
Two!
You smile to yourself and close your eyes.
The crowd chants One!
You breathe out and let go.
And when the cheers of Happy New Year! ring out, you breathe in and open your heart up to all the possibilities.
Enjoying the moment for what it was- exactly as it was- as the party noise makers started going off all around you.
As New Yearsâ kisses were traded.
As people greeted a fresh, bright New Year with wide-open and welcoming arms.
Where anything could happen.
Where anything was possible because the year was waiting to written.
You tip your head back and open your eyes, watching as the balloons youâd spent the afternoon tying knots in started to fall, slowly at first and then more until your view was a cocoon of black and gold and white and clear blocking out the rest of the world from view.
Time seemed to slow a bit as the confetti poppers joined the mix adding to the echo of fireworks going off nearby. The glints of gold and little shiny dots of sparkles and streamers seemed to hang in the air. There was a cacophony of cheerful noises, from the poppers to the people to the familiar sound of Whitney Houston being piped over the static-y speakers.
A moment of magic for you and you alone, as you pocketed the hope and optimism you felt rippling around you.
Over the next couple of hours pass just as swiftly as before. As you got back into the groove of serving people, your brain snagged on the sound of Aud Land Syne being played on the upright piano at the other end of the bar, and the only person it could be playing it.
It wasnât long before people steadily started to trickle out the front door.
Youâd made sure to shoo Penny out to the dance floor with Pete as the lineup of people slowed down enough for her to have some New Years Eve fun.
No one had gone too crazy, but even so, you helped arranged people rides to get home safe between closing out tabs and announcing the last call for the few people who wanted to stick it out until the very end. Waving to your new friends as they all slowly but surely made their exits.
Youâd lost track of Rooster along the way, it would have been nice to wish him a Happy New Year, but it was probably for the best. It was easier on your heart to not know whether he left with some of the Daggers or with the girl with the silver sequins.
You just locked the door after the last couple stragglers had left for the night. Youâd sent Penny away a little over a half an hour ago- along with Mav- since thereâd been only a handful of people to look after.
Sheâd made you promise not to stay behind after locking up, but you didnât see the harm in tidying things up a bit more. You were collecting the empty glasses that had been scattered about and abandoned on window ledges and tables when you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye, nearly causing you to drop the bus tub you were holding on to.
âBradley! Jesus.â You set the plastic tub down on a table with more force than necessary, the glasses rattling against each other, and press a hand to your chest where your heart is rapidly knocking about. âWhat are you still doing here?â
You figured he left already, so youâre more than a little surprised heâs still here. And not just because he startled you half to death.
âSorry, sorry,â he apologizes, putting his hands up. âI didnât mean to sneak up on you, I was taking out some trash and then got held up talking to Jake for a few minutes. I didnât realize everyone else had left.â
âI just locked the front doors,â you say, waving towards the now closed front door.
Bradley takes a cautious step closer. âSo, itâs just us then?â He doesnât even have the decency to look like heâs been partying for the better part of five hours, he looks just as handsome as he did at the start of the evening, whereas youâre sure you probably look as ruffled as you felt.
âWeâre the last two standing,â you confirm, putting your hands on your lower back to stretch out the tightness that had settled along your spine over the course of the night, âBut just barely, on my end.â
âYouâve been busy tonight.â You hum in agreement and reach for a foam-covered glass that was left between the coaster holder and napkin dispensers. His big hand closing around it first and he pins you with a look, leaning a hip against the table, âSo tell me, why are you still cleaning when you and I both know for a fact Penny hired a crew to take care of this in the morning?â
You donât have an answer for him, at least, not one you were willing to share. That even though the ball had dropped and the confetti had fallen you werenât ready to have the night be over yet. Knowing that the moment you locked up for good and got in your car and headed home, that the bottle of champagne youâd bought for yourself and plans with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal wouldnât hit quite the way youâd hope it would.
Instead, you offer him a shrug.
Bradleyâs eyes search yours for a moment before he gives you a gentle smile. âCâmon, busy bee, I think youâve more than earned yourself a glass of champagne.â
He doesnât give you a chance to argue, already making his way towards the bar, not that you put up much of a fight. The âGreatest Hitsâ playlist that Penny had queued up for the night is still playing in the background, you recognize opening notes of The Cureâs âJust Like Heavenâ as you trail after him.
You lift an eyebrow as he pulls out a stool for you, but he just mirrors you by lifting one of his own and gestures to the seat. You think you feel his thumb sweep over your hip as he helps you into the stool before stepping into the front bar. A little sigh of relief slips out of you, finally off your feet for the first time all night.
Youâre tired, but itâs a happy kind of tired. Youâd had a nice time all things considering. Seeing the bright faces of everyone tonight had made all the work youâd put in feel worth it, all the planning and prep and decorating made it worth it if tonight ended up being a fond memory for someone.
Bradley grins at you from over his shoulder mischievously, âYou know, Pennyâs never let me behind the bar before.â He says it so conspiratorially, like heâs getting away with something and youâre an eyewitness to his delinquency, as if he wasnât a decorated golden boy of the United States Navy. Â
You laugh, endeared by the boyish smile on his face. âProbably because youâre never wearing the right shoes,â you tease, wiggling a clog towards him.
And he chuckles, warm and affectionate.
Rooster finds the freshly washed glasses easily- Pete had done a great job as the designated dishwasher of the evening, loading and unloading glasses as quickly as they came with speedy efficiency. You see as his hand hesitates for a moment eyeing the already open bottle of champagne on the counter warily, and you point a glossy cranberry coated fingernail to the fridge under the counter, where you knew a few uncorked ones were still stocked knowing that Penny wonât mind if you pilfer a celebratory bottle to share between yourselves.
With your help he finds the chilled bottle and shoots the cork across the room with a cheerful pop! You make a mental note to pick it up later marking the spot in your mind, which he must notice because he says, knowingly, âDonât worry, Iâll grab it later. Youâre officially off the clock.â
He pours you a glass and then one for himself with a flourish, clearly showing off as the bubbles fizz to the top of the rim without spilling over. Youâve spent all night catering to everyone else, itâs nice to have someone looking out for you now.
Rooster holds out a glass for you, âCheers, Bee.â
You smile and clink yours against his.
The bubbles burst across your tongue, refreshing and crisp. The two of you sip on your glasses of champagne in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm after a busy day and busier night.
âDid you have a nice time tonight, Bradley?â
âIt was nice enough, I guess,â he says, giving you a half smile, âIâm having a much better time now though.â
You take another little sip, attributing the fluttering in your chest to the bubbles.
âIt feels weird to be sitting on this side of the bar,â you muse, changing the subject, âYou know, I donât think I made you a drink at all tonight.â
He takes the bottle and pours you a little more. âPeople kept hogging my favorite bartender.â
You grin into your glass.
âI would have made time for you,â you say.
He leans down and fold his arms in front of him, so that your faces are level. âYou would have?â
The answer comes easily. âOf course.â
Bradley gives you a look you donât know how to interpret, like reading your face isnât enough that he wants to know whatâs going on inside of your head. You always kind of thought your cards had been on the table the whole time, but maybe youâd been keeping them closer to your chest than youâd realized.
âIt was nice of you to make sure Penny and Mav got out on the dancefloor earlier.â
âYou saw that?â It hadnât been an easy feat, but it had been worth it to see them looking at each other in a way you hoped youâd find someday.
His gaze is steady when he replies, âI did.â
Flustered now, you feel your cheeks heat up. âAmelia and I had a bet about if he was going to propose tonight, and I thought Iâd do my part to try and help her win twenty dollars. I didnât think he would, at least not here in front of a crowd of people, but I hope heâll do it soon.â
He nods, taking a sip of his own, the tips of his ears getting red.
You lean forward on your elbows, âTell me what you know, Bradshaw.â
âIâm a vault,â he says, shaking his head.
âDoes he have a ring?â you ask, elatedly.
Bradley takes another deep sip of champagne, giving you nothing, at least not with his words. But you donât need him to confirm, not with the way his lips are turned up, clearly happy for his uncle and your aunt.
Good, you smile to yourself, thatâs good.
âI also happened to notice that you didnât get to dance at all tonight.â
âNo, I didnât.â You could have. Penny had tried to get you to take a few minutes to enjoy yourself, but you kept finding excuses to stay planted where you were. âThereâs always next year,â you add, circling your finger around the base of your champagne glass.
Bradley steps out from behind the bar and takes the half full glass from your hand, setting it on top of a coaster in a move that you find entirely too appealing. Â And holds out a hand out for you, âWe should fix that.â
His large fingers wrap around your hand- strong and sure- as he guides you towards the old jukebox, the two of you walking over the confetti covered floor and though the sea of balloons that bobbed in your wake.
He lets go when the two of you have reached the middle of the makeshift dancefloor that had been cleared of the tables that were normally there for the night. Your feet stay put as he makes his way to the sticker covered jukebox and starts flipping through the options.
âI keep trying to get Penny to get a new one that takes a card,â you say nervously, filling the quiet, the air now charged with something new between the two of you. âOr one with an app, where people could pay and pick things from their phone.â
âNow whereâs the fun in that?â he teases playfully, still scanning through the CDs, clearly on a mission to find a particular song.
âShe keeps a couple spare quarters on the ledge behind it- but uhm- Iâm not sure if theyâre still there or not, or if people have already used them. I could grab some from the register-â
You take a half step back, but Rooster stops you.
âDonât go flying away, Bee.â He pulls out his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket and fishes out a couple coins, holding them out on his flattened palm for you to see. âYou see, Iâve been saving these ones for just the right girl.â
You didnât know your heart could beat so fast.
Bradley slips them into the machine with a metallic plink, once and then twice. The corner of his mouth pulls up as his eyes drift over you. âYeah, youâre definitely an N24 kind of girl.â
He punches in the code and walks purposefully back to you.
The gentle sound of an acoustic guitar crackles to life over the old speaker system of the Hard Deck, the song much slower than you were anticipating. The opening notes are familiar ones to you, but different than what you were used to hearing. This rendition was delicate and atmospheric. Intimate. Almost like the music was wearing its heart on its sleeve.
Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you in. His eyes are heavy on yours, you feel the weight of them everywhere. He coaxes your hand onto his broad shoulder and takes the other one in his, drawing it to his chest.
He holds you close as he leads you in a dance.
No one has ever looked at you the way he is looking at you.
âAsk me about my night again,â he murmurs, invitingly.
You swallow. âDid you have a nice time earlier tonight?â
âNo.â Your breath stutters in your chest and you miss a step, but he easily guides you through it. âNo,â he repeats, âI didnât because I couldnât spend it with the only person I want to.â
Your voice has escaped you, not that youâd trust it not to completely give you away.
âThis is the part where you ask me how itâs going now.â He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, encouragingly.
âThis doesnât feel very friendly,â you whisper.
Bradley presses you even closer to him. Every part of you is touching him, and youâre warm everywhere. âThatâs good,â he rasps, âBecause Iâm not really going for just âfriendlyâ here, honey.â
You see everything there plain as day, written all over his face.
All you can say is his name.
âBradley.â
And he says yours in return, so gently like itâs precious to him.
âI kept hoping youâd look my way during the countdown. But then you looked so thoughtful and all I wanted was to see that moment through your eyes. I couldnât look away, youâre so beautiful.â
Feeling brave, you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, combing your fingers through the short hair at the base of his head. He hums, pleased and content.
âYou didnât get a New Years Eve kiss.â Itâs a statement. Like he knows because he was paying attention.
Your stomach swoops, and itâs like youâre fifteen and riding the Giant Dipper again.
âNeither did you, it seems.â His eyes drop down to your mouth.
âNo, I didnât,â he confirms, raising a hand up and skimming his thumb along your lower lip. âBut now Iâve got a whole year to practice.
Bradley brings both hands to cup your face. His eyes traveling from your eyes to your nose to your mouth, a soft smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you.
When his lips meet yours itâs like time stops. You canât hear the music over the rushing in your ears or the beating of your heart. In that moment, all there is only Bradley.
Thereâs no hesitation in the way his mouth moves against yours. Or in the way his teeth grazes your lower lip, right before he follows it with his tongue. Itâs as if he has played this moment in his head so many times before.
Like there was never a question in his mind about if it was ever going to happen, but when.
Thereâs a surety in his touch, in the way he cradles your face in his big hands, in the way he angles your head just right.
The way Bradley kisses you makes you feel like this is the moment heâs been waiting for the whole night.
That itâs the moment heâs been waiting the last four months for.
His kiss is sweet like cinnamon and you know youâll never be the same now that youâve had a taste of it.
Your first one of the year. And it belongs to Bradley Bradshaw. Just as you always hoped it would be.
He pulls away just enough to skim his lips teasingly against yours. âHappy New Year, Bee.â
âHappy New Year, Bradley.â
You grin and he dips back down to kiss you again.
Time ticks on, but this time there isnât a countdown. Only his mouth against yours and your arms wrapped around his neck.
After a while, he pulls away again, looking entirely and thoroughly kissed. Itâs a good look for him.
He smiles at you. âMy mom used to believe in âbeginning as you mean to go onâ. Taking time on the first of a new year and doing something that you want to make a part of your year going forward,â he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb, âSo if youâre up for it, honey, Iâd like to take you out to breakfast at that 24-hour diner. Because I mean to go on with you this year and the next one after that if Iâm lucky.â
âIâd like that,â you say, taking a snapshot of this moment and the way those warm, brown eyes are gazing at you. âJust as long as we leave some time for mine. I have an idea of how Iâd like to âbegin as I mean to go onâ.â
âYeah? What did you have in mind?â
You donât answer, instead you just lean in close until you feel his smile pressed against your.
The two of you eventually lock up for the night, for good this time. But only after Bradley finally stops kissing you long enough to grab that cork heâd shot across the bar earlier, pretending not to see the way he tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket.
He takes your hand in his warm one, his fingers slipping easily between yours like heâs done it hundreds of times before.
The sunrise is still a couple of hours away, but you can see the promise of dawn and all the possibilities itâll bring.
Bradley turns his head back to look at you and grins, itâs wide enough that the corners of his eyes crinkle.
A new day, a new year.
And you canât help but think that this really will be the best one yet.
Happy 2025, tgm friends! I hope this is your year! Thank you for reading!
And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!
If you want to know what song Bradley played for Bee đ„°
Summary: You're struggling through your pregnancy, trying to stay calm as your worries about Bradley grow as quickly as the baby. Bradley wants to put his best foot forward at work, making himself available for office hours, but maybe he's made himself too accessible.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
Bradley's new office was coming along nicely. Everything was standard issue Navy grade, but he started adding some touches here and there to make it look more personal. The file cabinet was covered in ultrasound photos, one column of Rosie and one of her younger sibling.Â
He glanced at the wedding photo on his desk before adjusting it and wincing. You were still mad this morning that he overdid it at the Hard Deck last night, but he wished you would just let it go. It's not like he drove home drunk or anything. Nat and the guys were just excited to learn he was going to have another kid. The drinks just kept coming.
There was a knock on the door, and then Maverick poked his head inside. "You have a minute?"
"Yeah," Bradley replied, waving him inside. "It's not like I can tell you no. You're my commanding officer, Mav."
The older man chuckled, setting some folders on the desk. "I need you to keep all of the forms updated for each of the pilots. It's best if you work on it every day and then update the hard copies. You should have time to do this between visits during your office hours."
Today was the first time Bradley was holding office hours, and honestly he felt a bit like a college professor: the aviators were kind of his students, and he was responsible for making sure they were prepared to fly.
"Not sure how busy my office hours will be," Bradley muttered. He should probably send a text to remind you he'd be home a little later than usual tonight. While he didn't want to make a habit of missing dinner with his girls, this was a far cry better than being deployed.Â
"You might be surprised," Maverick replied with a smile as he backed toward the door. "You've got a lot to show the others, Lieutenant Commander."
Then he was gone, and Bradley could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks. He just wanted to prove himself, but the first time someone had him up against the wall, scrambling for an answer, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He'd only started to advertise his extra hours during today's lecture, so it would probably be another week or so until someone came to him for any sort of guidance on a Monday evening. But he would try to be ready.
He was just opening one of the folders from Maverick when there was another knock on his door. This time when he looked up, he was met with a flight suit complete with a Golden Warriors patch identical to the one he wore. That would have been enough to let him know it was Indigo, but then he met her eyes as he stood up behind his desk.
"Lieutenant Jeffries," he greeted with a smile as she strode inside. "How can I help you?"
She studied his face with a knowing look for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile of her own. "Sir, I can think of so many ways you could help me. It's not even funny."
Bradley blinked, brow furrowed as he examined her. "Well, why don't you start with an easy one? It's been a long day. And something tells me you might be regretting the late start you got at the Hard Deck last night."
Her laughter filled the room. "I could never regret finding the officer hangout before the rest of my peers from Texas. I need to keep the edge I have over Rex and Spice." When she started to close the door, Bradley frowned.
"Keep it open," he said casually, reaching out to catch it before it shut. He didn't want anyone thinking he was playing favorites, and the little pout on Indigo's lips convinced him she wanted to be his favorite aviator. But she didn't argue. She simply sat down on the edge of the couch and looked up at him.
"The easiest way you can help me is by telling me where I can improve," she said, fingers toying with the zipper at her neck. "I want to be the best you've ever seen."
------------------------------
You couldn't tell if Cat was actually annoyed with you or if she was just teasing, but you were too exhausted from a restless night to care.
"I can't believe Bradley told Jake you're pregnant before you told me yourself! I just saw you last night!"
Her gaze dipped down to your belly as you stood before her in the lab. You knew you were showing. There was no denying it now. You had a bunch of appointments coming up with Dr. Morris, and you were just going to keep getting bigger until you had to wear the maternity tent again. You knew you were already huge and that you'd probably never be your normal size ever again. And the last thing you wanted was Cat Coleman of all people scrutinizing your appearance when she always looked pristine.
Everything was made worse by Bradley's interactions with Indigo. She was everywhere on base, but now she had taken over your bar, too. You saw her this morning but managed to duck out of the way before those piercing eyes landed on you. She knew what you looked like now, and Cat's gaze lingering on your belly was doing nothing to give you a boost of confidence.
"Please make sure you're eating and drinking enough," she told you. "We don't want another repeat of Annapolis where you could barely give a presentation. Or a repeat of the day you fell at work."
You gritted your teeth. "This pregnancy doesn't even feel like my last one. Okay? I'm eating just fine. Too well, actually."
You turned on your heel, boot squeaking on the floor and headed out to collect Rose from daycare. Everything was just a reminder of your size right now. Visions of candy bars danced in your head as you told yourself you'd go home and eat a sensible dinner while Bradley held his office hours. But you already knew... you just knew Indigo would squeeze her way in there with her pretty eyes and her perky tits. And your husband seemed to be oblivious to her. At least you'd tried to convince yourself he wasn't actively looking. But you knew she found him attractive. You could smell it on her a mile away.
Tears filled your eyes as you approached the daycare facility. If he was looking at her, you couldn't blame him. Indigo was beautiful, her body stunning even in her flight suit. Meanwhile you looked like an exhausted, lumpy, khaki-covered potato with acne and zero energy.
"Let's go home," you whispered to Rose, trying to smile at the daycare staff as you pushed her out in her stroller.
You were absolutely fine. You were totally fine. Or at least you would be. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.
But all week long, you heard the same collection of call signs spilling from Bradley's lips, and Indigo's was always the first one. She was the fastest, most cunning, smartest, most decisive pilot he'd ever flown with. Any time you asked him a question about work, she was the answer. And he was late coming home almost every day.
"Hey, Sweetheart. Sorry, I had to stay in the infirmary with Spice after she strained her shoulder," he said, rushing inside on Friday night as you made dinner. "She couldn't even raise her arm to get her helmet off."
He kissed your cheek, letting his hand rest on your belly for a beat before he ended up on the floor next to Rose's play mat where she was trying her hardest to crawl to Tramp. As soon as Bradley showed up, she changed her mind and tried to get to him instead.
You pressed your lips together as you turned off the stove burner. "Did anyone else stay with you and Spice?"
"Yeah, Indigo hung out," he replied easily, brushing his fingers along Rose's hair with a smile. You swallowed hard, watching him on his hands and knees in his khaki uniform. He looked so good. Like ridiculously good. Broad shoulders and big biceps and a handsome smile.
"Why am I not surprised?" you muttered, turning away from him.
"I think they're friends," he said. "It's kind of amusing getting to experience the love and hate dynamics amongst the group. The women tend to stick together on the ground, but anything goes in the air."
Your stomach ached with hunger pangs, and the only thing you wanted to eat was ice cream. When you realized you'd eaten a frozen burrito barely an hour ago, you desperately wanted to go to bed hungry, but you started to feel guilty about the baby.
"My parents listed their house today," you announced, trying to change the subject before you started to cry.
"Did you hear that, Nugget?" Bradley scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen where you were plating two meals. "Your grandparents are moving here to spend more time with you. And next summer, we'll take you and your little brother or sister back to Virginia to see where ol' Goose and Carole used to live, okay?"
He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling wildly, and every negative thought started to get fuzzy around the edges. When his brown eyes met yours, you nodded toward the table, and his arm slipped around your waist.
-----------------------------
Bradley came home from his office hours on Monday to find you wearing only his old UVA shirt. The soft cotton was hugging your bump and showing off your legs, and he was ready to get on his knees and beg for you.
After he put Rose in her crib for the night, he met you in bed where you were wearing your glasses, your face freshly scrubbed. He was plainly getting hard in his gym shorts the more he looked at you. It was so obvious. When you stood on your knees and coaxed him closer with your finger, he met you there.
"I hope you know how good you have it, Roo," you whispered against his lips.
He knew. He knew all about it. He let his hand slide down over your belly, keeping you in place when you tried to scoot away. Then his fingers slowly yanked up the hem of his shirt until he was touching your pussy.Â
"Of course I know it, Baby Girl." He circled your clit with his middle finger before slipping it inside you. "I've got my Rosie. And my hot, pregnant wife with her perfect pussy." When you whimpered, he kissed your nose. "I've got it all."
You dragged the shirt up over your belly and chest, tossing it aside. For a beat, Bradley went completely dizzy at the sight of your tits. Then you made everything better by placing your hands on your breasts, working them until beads of milk appeared. Your head was tipped back, pussy squeezing his middle finger, and Bradley almost lost his mind.
His kisses were rough. He knew it. But you were whining Roo as he got undressed, and then you were guiding his lips to your tits. He had to have it dirty. His cock was so fucking hard, he needed to make you scream.
"Oh, fuck," he growled as his lips grazed your nipple, lapping up your milk until he thought he was going to pass out. Every inch of your body was so sweet and supple, but he wanted you babbling and begging.
Bradley meticulously cleaned you up until you were clinging onto him, then he pushed you onto your back. Without hesitation, he started fucking you. When you needed a hand over your mouth to keep from waking Rose, he was all too happy to help. When you spread your legs wider, he watched his cock glide inside your welcoming body over and over again until he felt his orgasm in his balls.
"Shit. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, waiting until you nodded against his palm to lose himself. Hips thrusting, filling you with shallow strokes, he fucked you until your pussy was dripping. He watched the mess he made dribble down your ass before catching it with his fingertips. "I swear I don't think I can keep my cock out of you long enough for you to not be pregnant ever again."
You snorted before reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips. "After this one, I'm going right back on the pill. No more slip ups," you whispered. Bradley watched as your tongue darted out, licking his sticky cum and swallowing every drop.
"No more slip ups," he echoed, smiling at your belly. He'd never consider this a mistake. Not in a million years. A surprise? Absolutely. But not a mistake.
Bradley's phone lit up where it had been discarded on the floor when you slipped into the bathroom. He had a text from an unknown number with a Virginia area code. At first, he thought it might be his cousin Brenda letting him know she had a new phone number, but when he opened the message, his brow creased in confusion at first.
Lieutenant Commander, thanks for spending so much time with me today in your office today.
Only three people had been in his office with him earlier. One was Maverick. One was Forrest who he had to reprimand. The third was Indigo. Bradley hadn't been giving out this number, but it was readily available if anyone wanted to look through the registry in the lobby of the building where his small office was housed.
He scratched the rough stubble along his jaw, contemplating if he should respond after nine in the evening. He saved her number under her call sign and tossed his phone on the bed when you walked back in with a smile on your face. He should wait until the morning to respond if at all.
You yawned when he passed you. "I'm ready for bed, Roo."
"Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and I'm right behind you."
---------------------------
By the end of the week, your parents had two offers on the house where you were raised. They were officially downsizing to a cute bungalow a few streets over in Coronado, and you were excited. Or you wanted to be.
But every time you let your heart fill with happiness over your parents or the baby, you remembered that Indigo was texting your husband. You saw it for yourself. Right after he fucked you so good, you could barely walk, you glanced down at his phone on your bed. He had her number saved in his phone, and you wanted to cry.
You could ask him for permission to look at his phone. You could see what his reaction was. That would give you a good gauge of what exactly was going on between them. But Bradley had never once asked you to hand your phone over to him. He'd ever insinuated that there would be a reason he didn't trust you.Â
Unsure what else to do, you sat in your office during your lunch break and cried. The tears were hot and miserable on your cheeks, and a headache instantly started brewing behind your eyes. It took you almost ten minutes to get yourself under control, and by then you didn't even feel like going to the cafeteria for food.
When someone knocked, you looked up at your door. Maybe it was Bradley. Maybe you could get his phone from him somehow and check it yourself. "Come in," you called, voice soft from all the tears you'd shed. Instead of your husband, Jake strolled inside. "Did you get lost? Cat's probably in the lab."
"Aww, come on, Angel," he drawled, dropping down into your extra chair. "I came all the way up here to see you."
"Oh." You were a little surprised. Everyone was so busy as the last quarter of the year was beginning, you felt like you hadn't seen much of him.
"Why do you look so sad?" he asked, already leaning forward to stand again. "Want me to grab you and the baby something to eat and bring it up here?"
"No," you told him quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little stressed." You tried to smile, but you felt like you could cry again. "Are you having a slow day?"
"Nah." He leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just had to get away from your annoying husband and his band of misfits clogging up the comms with their exercises."
"Band of misfits?" you asked with a soft laugh.
"Bunch of children," he replied with an eye roll. "Look like they just graduated from high school." His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, that probably means I look old now."
"You don't look too bad for someone older than me," you promised with a smirk. "Hey, do you know anything about any of those new pilots?"
"I know they like to hog the line in the cafeteria. One of them took the last slice of pizza yesterday, and I had to wait for a new pie to finish baking. Food should be based on seniority. I outrank all of them."
You were laughing at his smile now. "Hey, maybe I should get something to eat. And it might be nice to get out of my office for a few minutes."
"I'll walk you down." Jake stood and helped you to your feet. "Can't hang out too long though. Mav has a fire under his ass about getting Phoenix, Bob and I in the air this afternoon."
You headed to the cafeteria with Jake, getting a chance to hear his side of the wedding plans after listening to Cat for weeks. They wanted something small and simple, but he assured you there would be room for the Bradshaws on the guest list. Once you had a tray piled high with a salad, breadsticks and once slice of pizza, you took a seat while Jake headed back out to the tarmac to get back to work.
Your lunch tasted incredible. The cheese from the pizza was practically melting in your mouth. When the cafeteria started clearing out, there were only a few tables occupied, and you started stacking the plates on your tray. You could have a calm, reasonable conversation with your husband. He'd let you look at his phone, and everything would be fine.
"Okay, but what's up with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"
Your eyes darted up from your tray to find two officers sitting a short distance away. The one facing you had a patch on her flight suit that said SPICE, and you recognized her call sign from conversations with Bradley.
"He's hot, but he's wearing a wedding band," she added.
You swore your heart stopped at her words. Then you realized that the woman with her back to you was Indigo. Her jet black hair was wound up in a tight bun that accentuated her long neck even from behind, and her laughter set your teeth on edge.
"I already told you," she said, and you had to stop breathing to make sure you heard every word. "His wife is a civvy. I saw her at the bar the only night he showed up. They have one kid, and apparently she's pregnant again. At least that's what I heard Lieutenant Trace saying."
"What does his wife look like?" Spice asked, casually taking a sip of her drink as if your world wasn't crumbling to pieces.
"It was hard to tell in the dark, but her face seemed okay. Nice-ish body, but come on..." Indigo gestured to herself. "The man's only human, and his wife is definitely older than me. That much is easy to tell. And she'll be huge again soon."
You tried to get up from your seat quickly, fighting with yourself to get out of the room, but it was too late. Both of them were standing now, still chatting as Indigo turned your way. As soon as her eyes landed on your face, you saw them widen. That pretty blue color looked terrifying as a smile of recognition spread across her lips.
Indigo absolutely knew who you were now. Her eyes dipped down to the hyphenated name pinned against your chest, and now she knew you weren't a random civilian. She knew you were an officer who worked on North Island. She knew way too much as she took in every inch of your body. And she looked really pleased by what she saw.
-----------------------------
He has his sweet moments, but Roo doesn't see the bigger picture here. Next chapter will reveal if Rose is going to have a brother or a sister. Any guesses? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
part of the million dollar man universe. i strongly encourage you to read the two previous parts before reading this one
description: in which a silver haired cowboy is forced to face ghosts from his past, but learns he doesnât have to face them alone
pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader
w/c: 17,242
warnings: 18+ only, set during christmastime but not really holiday centric, age gap (reader 20s, rhett 40s), mentions of cheating and toxic past relationships, encounters with a certain ex-wife, smut, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, dom/sub themes, daddy kink, overstimulation, subspace, creampie
notes: i meant to have this up before christmas, but life got in the way. i'm very proud of how this turned out, though! don't be thrown off by the description. this fic has some drama but its main focus is the first time darlin' calls rhett daddy
It was finally December, and winter had officially wrapped Wyomingâs sprawling plains in its frosty embrace.Â
The sky was clear for the first time since the significant snowfall that had taken place earlier that week. The moon and stars twinkled against a backdrop of black velvet up above, casting their light upon the blanket of white that covered the earth.Â
It looked like diamonds.
Surrounded by the sparkling earth was a spacious, yet cozy, cabin, set upon a sprawling plot of land. And inside that cabin, one silver haired cowboy stood by the window, admiring the picturesque landscape that encompassed his home.
He couldnât help the soft smile that spread across his face. In just three short years, his life had changed so much. Now, here he was, engulfed in the warmth of his home, admiring the Currier and Ives-esque view from his window, his heart filled with joy.Â
That joy had been brought into his life in the form of one very special person. The one he lovingly referred to as his little darlinâ.Â
âIâm ready!â
Speak of the angel.Â
Rhett turned from the bedroom window, hand idly fiddling with the small steer skull cuff links on his black dress shirt. When he saw you, his eyes seemed to sparkle like the snow heâd just been admiring.Â
He could hardly find the breath to speak. âOh, darlinâ. You look incredible.â He was surprised he was able to get the words out.Â
Shyly, you ducked your head. âThank you.âÂ
He crossed the room, reaching you in two long strides. âI mean it.â Then he reached for your hand and lifted it above your head. âCâmon, twirl for me. Wanâ see everythinâ.â
Giggling softly, you allowed him to spin you, and he let out a hum of delight. âJust look atcha. Howâd I get so lucky?â
As he slowed you to a stop, you brought your hands up to rest upon his chest. Solid, rising and falling beneath your touch. His heart was beating fast, thrumming against his rib cage. Though his expression bore no sign of it, you knew how nervous he was for tonight.Â
A night in which he would receive a very special honor. But Rhett loathed being the center of attention, and he felt undeserving of this honor. Heâd much rather enjoy a quiet night in with you than go to an event, and certainly not one that put all eyes on him.Â
âHey,â you spoke, tone gentle. âDonât get into your head about it. You deserve this award.âÂ
He sighed softly, lashes fluttering. âI dunno know about that.âÂ
âYou do.â Your hands cupped his freshly shaven cheeks. âItâs a testament to all the hard work youâve put in.âÂ
He leaned in, nuzzling his nose against yours. âAt least Iâll have you there with me. Makes me feel a little better knowinâ I ainât alone.â
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. âYou know I wouldnât miss it for the world.â
He pulled you back in, initiating another kiss, this one deeper. You found yourself melting into him, warm and safe and secure. He was your safe haven. He made all the noise in your head go quiet.Â
Mouth against yours, he spoke, âI love you, darlinâ.â Breathless. Chest heaving slightly.Â
âI love you more.â
He leaned back slightly, bottom lip caught between his teeth,. His gaze flickered behind you momentarily before he slowly turned you, so that you were facing the full length mirror on the wall.Â
âLook at mâbeautiful, smart gal. Always know just what to say to make me feel better.â His face bore a look of glowing adoration.Â
You could melt at his feet just from that look alone. âI mean every word. Youâre a good man, Rhett Abbott.â
The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes narrowed. âOh, but I ainât a good man.â Voice low. Rumbly. One large hand came to rest upon your clavicle, warm against your skin.Â
How quickly things could change at the flip of a coin. His hand dropped lower, resting upon your chest, while his other arm snaked around your waist. He ran his nose along the side of your neck, breathing you in, and you shuddered.Â
âHope yâknow the only thing gettinâ me through this night is knowinâ I get to take you home with me afterward and do whatever I want to ya.â
That made your knees go weak.Â
He kissed the juncture where your neck met your shoulder, and then turned your chin so he could kiss your mouth. Just from that alone, you were dizzy. What an effect he had on you.Â
âW-we should go,â you breathed, though you made no move to slip out of his embrace.
âUh-huh.â His kisses trailed lower, down past your jaw and once again to your neck. He breathed you in, your scent intoxicating to him. God, if he could skip this event and take you to bed, he would.Â
Your eyes fluttered shut as goosebumps prickled along your skin. âRhett.â
âI know.â He turned you in his arms, hooking his fingers beneath your chin and tilting your head up so he could kiss once more, deeply, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Unable to resist, you parted your mouth and let him in, tasting mint on his tongue.Â
Finally, he pulled away, pupils blown, breath rushed. âNow we can go.â
Dizzy, you watched him cross the room to grab his best hat off of one of the pegs on the closet door. As he placed the hat on his head, his look was complete. Black dress shirt, black trousers, black cowboy boots, the ones he only wore for special occasions.Â
His tie was black too, but had understated gold embroidery along the edges. Complete with a tailored black suit jacket, he looked like a million dollar man. And he was all yours.Â
He was wildly uncomfortable in his stiff, fancy outfit. Dressing up was his least favorite thing. He would much rather wear a pair of Wranglers and a button down flannel. However, he had to admit, your reaction to him all dressed up did make the discomfort worth it.Â
âLook so handsome,â you gushed. âNow letâs get outta here before we end up being late.â Before I drop to my knees right here and suck your dick.
Together, you made your way out of the bedroom and down the hallway, with Rhett announcing he was going to go out and start the truck so it could warm up. He wouldnât let you sit on a freezing leather seat if he could help it. Your comfort was always his priority, and that was something you loved so much about him. He took such good care of you in ways big and small.Â
âMake sure yâ bundle up, windchillâs in the single digits,â he called over his shoulder as he pulled his own coat on.
âYes, sir,â you replied.
He glanced at you as he stepped toward the door, brow raised. âGood girl.â
Oh.
Then he was stepping out of the house, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, head spinning slightly. Youâd been with him for three years, married for one of those, and he still had that effect on you.
God, how were you going to survive tonight, watching him walk around dressed like that, the most important man at the event?
Rhett had been presented the honor of receiving Rancher of the Year by the Wyoming Stock Growers Association. He would be presented with a plaque and a gift from the association, and his name would be displayed in the great hall in the Cheyenne Chamber of Commerce.Â
You couldnât be more proud of him. He had been through so much, and had worked so hard. This ranch had been built from the ground up by his own hands, and his blood and sweat was imbrued into its soil.
When you met him, he was already successful and well-established. But there had once been a time when he had nothing, and found himself at rock bottom. His marriage had fallen apart, his wife had betrayed him in the most heinous of ways, and he was on a destructive path that would lead to his own demise if he didnât pick himself up off the pavement soon enough.
Over a period of several months, he had been careless, throwing himself into bull riding, and because he was so distracted, he had suffered a plethora of injuries. It almost seemed as if he had a death with. But after one too many blows to the head, dislocated shoulders, and broken ribs, it was either walk away from bull riding, or end up getting himself killed.
So he made the decision to lay his riding career to rest, and instead, turned to working with his hands, the one thing he felt that he was truly good at. He worked on a few local ranches, putting in the hours, stowing away as much money as he could.Â
After a while, he was able to purchase the land you both lived on now. He started from scratch, and it took him quite a few years to get established. It wasnât without its fair share of trials and frustrations, but Rhett appreciated the distraction, because if he wasnât working, there was nothing to take his mind off the fact that he was well and truly alone.Â
He tried so hard not to let it bother him. But he was deeply wounded from what he had been through, and although time soothed the ache, he was still filled with a sense of longing. He wanted to share his life with someone. This big, beautiful cabin felt so empty without someone to share it with.
After success came to him, he became one of the most well known ranchers in the state. It was certainly an adjustment after he had grown up on a ranch that his family barely scraped by on, but the financial security was a welcome change.
During this time, he considered putting himself out there and trying to find a romantic partner. There were plenty of women (and men) who were interested in him. He could take his pick of anyone he wanted, but after going on only a few dates, he realized that most of them were more interested in his money rather than him.
So he stopped looking. And the older he got, the more he grew convinced that he would never find anyone to spend the rest of his life with. And then he met you.
He had been enamored from the moment he walked into the diner you were working at. Something about you made his chest ache. Especially when he saw the way you were treated by your boss, and the patrons that came to the diner.
He was simply passing through your town. He had no intention of staying more than a few hours. Yet after he met you, he found himself unable to shake you from his mind. You were so beautiful. Not just your physicality, but your entire demeanor.Â
After spending that night talking to you, he couldnât stand the thought of never seeing you again. So he got a motel room in the area, and proceeded to come into your diner for the next few nights. He saw how poorly you were treated by your boss and the other patrons.Â
And as he got to know you over the next few days, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was meant to take you away from all of it. It was the most spontaneous decision heâd ever made, and perhaps it was slightly foolish to invite a woman heâd only just met to come live with him.
But he couldnât live with himself knowing he could have done something, and didnât. So he offered to give you a better life. To whisk you away from all the pain and mistreatment, . And to his surprise, you agreed.
He had no idea that you would soon become the love of his life. The missing piece to his puzzle. The best thing that had ever happened to him.Â
Rhett changed your life. He treated you with kindness and understanding, provided anything and everything you could ever need, and made you feel safe. For the first time in your life, it seemed, your body was no longer in a constant state of fight or flight. You could finally rest.
Now, three years later, you were his wife, and you had never been more at peace.Â
You were overjoyed that you could be part of Rhettâs life. He felt the same about you. Gone was the feeling of all consuming loneliness, replaced with a feeling of warmth and security. He had a purpose, and that purpose was you. After all the hardship he had endured, he welcomed this more relaxed time of his life. For his suffering, he had been rewarded with a tender hearted soul who loved him deeply. He wouldnât trade that for anything in the world.
Now here you both were, all dressed up and ready for a night that was all about Rhett and his accomplishments.Â
âYâready, darlinâ?â His voice drew you out of the reverie you hadnât realized youâd slipped into. Thankfully youâd had the sense to shove your feet into your snow boots and tug your coat on while you were reminiscing.Â
âYep!â You held your dress shoes in one hand, intending to change into them once you got to your destination. You werenât about to trudge through ice and snow in your nicest shoes.Â
âCâmere.â Rhett stopped you as you came to the door. He reached out, taking the time to button your coat for you. It brought a smile to your face, and warmth to your heart.Â
Then he leaned in to kiss your nose. âThere, thatâs better.â He guided you out onto the porch, and closed the door behind you both. Heâd already put ice melt down so the front steps and the walkway werenât slippery, but just in case, he led you to the truck anyway, prepared to catch you if you slipped on a patch of ice he mightâve missed.Â
Once you were safely seated in the warm cab, he came around to his side and climbed into the seat, letting out a sharp breath as he shivered. âItâs sâdamn cold. My old, achinâ bones ainât made for this weather.â
âOh yeah, because youâre so ancient,â you teased, settling back once you had your seatbelt fastened.
âBaby, Iâm pushinâ fifty. I damn near feel ancient,â came his grumble as he threw the gear into drive and began the trek down the long driveway.
âYou donât look a day over forty-eight.â His actual age.
âHa-ha.â An exaggerated fake laugh, but you could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he truly was amused.
You leaned across the console to kiss his cheek, and he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh.Â
As comfortable silence settled between you both, you took it upon yourself to turn the radio on, fiddling with the dial until it landed on a holiday music station.
Christmas was only a few short weeks away, and you were in a very festive spirit. It was your second Christmas as a married couple, and you were so eager to spend the holiday with him, and continue the traditions you had started the year before.Â
You had restored Rhettâs love for the holiday season. What used to be a difficult time for him had turned into something magical, all because of you.Â
His favorite thing was cozying up by the fire with you after a long day, with the Christmas tree lights twinkling in the background. It was heaven on earth.Â
And now you were singing along softly to carols on the radio, and he couldnât help but smile, reaching over to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You brought so much wonder to his life.Â
Although he was anxious about receiving the award that night, he also felt a sense of calmness, brought in by your presence. You were always his saving grace.Â
And as he embarked on the hour-long drive into Cheyenne, you traded easy conversation, taking the time to get his mind off his nerves for a little while.Â
But all too soon, he was pulling into the parking lot of the Cheyenne Chamber of Commerce, and his heart quickened a little in his chest, muscles tensing.Â
Why was he so damn nervous? It wasnât that big of a deal. All he had to do was go up and accept the award, and say a few words of thanks. Heâd done many more stressful things than that in his lifetime.Â
âHey.â Your voice drew him from his imminent spiral. He turned his head to look at you, and you offered a reassuring smile. âYouâll be fine. I love you.â You kissed him sweetly.Â
âLuh you too,â he hummed against your mouth. Then he killed the engine and moved to climb out of the truck.Â
Breath puffing in clouds around his head, he quickly rounded the front of the vehicle and came to your door, which he opened and reached his hand out to guide you down to the parking lot.Â
Hands intertwined, you walked toward the building, shoes crunching on stray pieces of melting salt. Even through your coat, the frigid wind managed to bite at you, sending shivers down your spine and pushing you to snuggle into Rhettâs side.Â
He held you close until you got to the doors, which he stopped to open for you. You rushed inside, quick to wipe your boots on the entryway mat before you glanced around for a place to hang your coat.Â
To your left was a small coat hallway, where you shrugged out of your outer layers and placed your boots neatly beneath the rack, stepping into your nicer shoes.Â
When you turned back toward Rhett, he reached out, fingers wiggling, silently asking for physical contact. You slipped your hand into his palm, and he managed to give you a smile before you both walked out into the main lobby area.Â
The place was decorated quite elegantly for christmas, with a large christmas tree in the middle of the room, and lighted garland framing all the windows. Soft music played over the speakers; classical versions of well-known Christmas carols.Â
A good amount of people had already arrived. Other members of the Stockmenâs Association. Presidents, vice presidents, and representatives alike.
âThere he is, the man of the hour!â A voice called out, and you both turned to see Leo Riesen, vice president of the Amelia county branch, approaching. He smiled widely and shook hands with Rhett, nodding his head toward you in greeting.Â
âHow you feelinâ about the award?â The man asked, mirth lighting up his sharp green eyes.
âIâve gotta be honest, I feel undeservinâ of it.â
Leo simply shook his head, scoffing good-naturedly. âOh, quit beinâ humble. You of all people deserve it! Ainât that right, Mrs. Abbott?â He turned to you, and you nodded without hesitation.Â
âOh yes! I might be a little biased, but if anyone deserves it, itâs him!â Came your eager reply as you reached over to squeeze Rhettâs bicep lovingly.Â
âSee?â Leo swiveled toward your husband again, flashing another thousand watt smile. âYour wife knows what sheâs talkinâ about.â
And thus began a night of socializing. Rhett was not a fan of small talk, or social situations in general. He felt very out of his element, especially with so much attention focused on him. But you being by his side made it more bearable.Â
Although he wasnât the most comfortable in this environment, you certainly couldnât tell. He was practically glowing, it seemed. Smile bright, eyes glimmering. He was approached by so many people, mostly members of the Stockmenâs Association, and he handled himself with grace and humility, though his cheeks were slightly pink from all the attention.Â
You marveled even at yourself, because you remembered when youâd first begun attending events with Rhett. Your relationship was still so new, and you were not yet confident in who you were.Â
You had faced scrutiny from some of the other ranchersâ wives. Luke Tillersonâs wife in particular has singled you out and claimed that you were merely a phase for Rhett. A way to soothe his loneliness. She insisted he was only interested in you because you were young, and he would soon grow tired of you.Â
Back then, you had been so hurt by her words. You hadnât possessed the guts to stand up to her and defend yourself and the man you loved.Â
Youâd come so far since then. Now, you were secure in yourself, and in your relationship with Rhett. After all, you were the one who made him believe in love again, after fifteen years of thinking heâd never experience it.Â
You had the confidence to stand up for yourself, and for him, if need be.Â
But you had no idea that you would, in fact, need to do so that night.Â
Unsuspecting, you made the rounds, staying close to Rhettâs side, and putting your two cents into each conversation when necessary. Little by little, the room began to fill with guests. Other members of the association and their spouses, friends of Rhett, but most importantly, his mother.
When he saw her, his face lit up. âHey, Momma. You made it!â
âWell of course I made it! Wouldnât miss seeinâ my boy get his award!â She exclaimed as she lovingly squeezed his hand. Cecilia was well into her seventies, but still just as spry (and stubborn) as ever. Rhett had purposely told her not to make the trip if she felt that the weather was too cold for her to go out in, but she had insisted she would be in attendance, weather be damned.
âHi there, honey,â she turned to you, her smile wide, as she reached out to pull you in for a hug. âItâs good to see ya.â
âYou too,â came your reply, returning her embrace. You were grateful to have a mother-in-law like her. Over the time youâd known her, youâd grown quite fond of her. She had told you many times that she was so glad that her Rhett had found love again. It meant so much to her that you made him so happy.
âWell, I sâpose Iâll take my seat. Talk to you both afterward,â Cecilia continued, excusing herself to the seating area, lined neatly with folding chairs.
âIâm so glad your mom could make it,â you told Rhett, smile playing at your lips. âSheâs so proud of you.â
You were met with silence when he didnât reply, and you turned, speaking his name. However, you noticed that heâd gone tense beside you, shoulders drawn toward his ears.Â
His gaze was fixed on something, or someone, across the room.
It was the shock of long, dark hair that caught his attention. From where she stood, her back turned, he couldnât see her face, but even so, he knew who it was.
After all these years.
Your voice drew him back to himself. âRhett, honey, whatâs the matter?â Gentle hand on his back. Grounding him.Â
He took a breath, eyes still focused across the room. âIâŠâ Before he could even offer an explanation, she turned, confirming what he already knew.Â
The woman whoâd betrayed him so long ago, forsaking the marriage vows she had made to him. Maria.Â
She hadnât seen him yet, it appeared, as she was still in the middle of the conversation. But surely, she knew heâd be here. What was she doing here at all? He had been to many events for the Association, and had never seen her at any of them.Â
Beside Rhett, you followed his gaze, which landed upon a woman. Pretty, with dark hair cascading down her back. She appeared to be close to Rhettâs age. When you looked back at him, his face was stricken, as if heâd seen a ghost.
Youâd never seen a picture of Maria. But judging by your husbandâs reaction, you knew that this had to be her.Â
âOh my god,â you breathed, âthatâs her, isnât it?â
âY-yeah,â Rhett managed, mouth dry.Â
Beside her stood Jackson Riggs, first vice president of the Stockmenâs Association. He looked up, and saw Rhett. A smile crossed Jacksonâs face as he pointed to Rhett, and Mariaâs attention shifted to him. She had an excellent poker face, but for a split second the discomfort in her eyes was clear.
Rhett had gone rigid as a board, watching as the pair approached. His chest was tight, and an uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He hadnât spoken to her since their divorce had been finalized. That was sixteen years ago. He should have been over it by now. Seeing her again should not have this much of an effect on him.
Yet as she approached, his heart rate quickened. Unsure of what to do, you reached for Rhettâs arm, placing your hand against his bicep. A silent show of support. You were going to follow his lead, because you didnât trust yourself not to go off on this woman.
It was jarring to see her for the first time. After all Rhett had told you about her, you had developed a deep disdain for the woman. You didnât like to use the word hate, but that was exactly how you felt about her.Â
He had given you the full story. Laid it out one night, early on in your relationship, as he sat on the living room floor with you. Told you how heâd come home after an out-of-town rodeo to find his wife in his bed with another man. And not just any man, but his own brother.
It had utterly destroyed him. Not only had that moment marked the end of his marriage, but it had irreparably damaged his relationship with his brother. You had seen the pain in his eyes when he recalled that incident. Even so many years later, it was still raw and real.Â
Hearing that story had filled you with an all-encompassing anger. You didnât understand how someone could be so cruel as to go behind the back of the person they loved. And with their sibling, no less.Â
Seeing the cause of your husbandâs pain sent pinpricks of rage through you. But you remained poised at his side, waiting to see how heâd react, and how the conversation would go.Â
âRhett Abbott!â Jackson spoke out, voice carrying. âGood to see you!â
Rhett cleared his throat, trying not to appear shaken. His lashes fluttered, and he cleared his throat, trying not to stare at Maria. âJ-Jack. Uh, good tâsee you too,â he managed to answer. Your grip on his bicep tightened slightly, letting him know you had him.
âMrs. Abbott,â Jackson greeted, nodding toward you. Beside him, Mariaâs eyes widened, but she quickly hid her surprise. Jackson stepped back slightly, motioning to the woman. âThis hereâs my wife, Maria.â
It took everything in you not to react.
Rhett tried to appear calm and collected, though he tugged slightly at his collar, as if to loosen it. How the hell was he supposed to react to the information heâd just been told?Â
âNice to meet you, Rhett,â Maria interjected, but the tightness in her smile showed no friendliness.Â
You could no longer force your own smile. In fact, you were certain you were staring daggers at the woman now. Who did she think she was, acting as if she didnât know Rhett? It was clear her husband had no idea about her connection to him. She hadnât told him the truth.
A bitter taste filled your mouth. You realized you were biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.
âYouâŠyou as well,â you heard Rhett say, but his voice echoed through your head, as if he was far away.
If Jackson noticed anything amiss, he didnât acknowledge it. He simply continued talking, congratulating Rhett on his award.Â
You, on the other hand, couldnât stop staring at Maria. You could not believe her audacity.Â
She seemed nervous under your intense gaze. As if she was afraid youâd say something. You wanted to so badly. But you also didnât want to make a scene and add to Rhettâs stress, merely five minutes before he had to stand in front of everyone.Â
So you held your tongue and made nice, for his sake.Â
âWell, guess weâd better get to our seats. Nice seeinâ ya,â Jackson finally said, ending the very brief conversation. Heâd been droning on about something that you had not listened to a single word of.Â
Maria seemed relieved to get out of the situation.Â
At your side, Rhett let out an unsteady breath. For a moment, he was transported back to that night, when it all fell apart. How was it possible that it felt like it had happened only yesterday, but also like one hundred lifetimes had passed since then?
âAre you okay?â Your voice brought him from the precipice of a spiral.Â
âIâŠIâm fine,â he answered.Â
The ceremony was about to start. You could not discuss the situation the way you wanted to. That would come later. Instead, you reached up and gently turned his face toward you. âHey.â
His eyes met yours, and he let out a soft breath. âIâm alright, darlinâ. Promise. Just didnât expect to see her here. I didnât even know she was married to Riggs. I mean, what are the fuckinâ odds?â He was in disbelief, and he felt so out of sorts. Entirely unprepared to stand before everyone. At the same time, he hated that this had thrown him off so badly. He should have been able to shake it off. But he couldnât.
There was so much more you wanted to say. But everyone was making their way to their seats, and the room was beginning to quiet down. Whatever you said would be heard, and once again, you didnât want to cause a scene.
So, instead, you ducked forward to kiss him softly, squeezing his hand in reassurance. âShe doesnât get to ruin your night. Youâve worked too damn hard to let that happen. Go up and accept that award and show her that what she did to you didnât stop you from becoming one of the most successful men in this state.â
He managed a grateful smile, nuzzling his nose against yours. There was no time to say anything else, as it was time to move to your seats. You intertwined your fingers with Rhettâs and the two of you made your way to the front row of chairs. Coincidentally, that placed him directly next to Maria, who was seated beside her husband.
How you were going to remain composed this entire time, you werenât sure. You forced yourself to keep your gaze fixed forward and focused on what was happening on the small stage in front of you.
The night began with Winston Haynes, the president of the Stockmenâs Association, stepping up to the podium. He went through the preliminary introductions and recapped how the year had gone for the association.Â
Your interest was piqued only when he spoke your husbandâs name. âAs you all know, every year, we honor a local rancher who is part of the association. This rancher is someone who shows great respect to the land. Someone who has an admirable work ethic, and loves his community.â
He paused, glancing out at the modest crowd, before continuing, reading off of his prepared notes. âRhett Abbott was born and raised in Wabang, Wyoming. He grew up as a ranch kid, but didnât establish his own ranch until a little later in life. Since then, he has built a very lucrative business, known as Abbott Ranch. Not only is he an excellent cattleman, but heâs also very involved in giving back to the community.â
Listening to him list Rhettâs achievements helped take your mind off of the woman currently sitting in your row. Instead, you found yourself welling with pride, and you gripped his hand again, allowing yourself to revel in the joy you felt for him.
âTonight, we want to honor Rhett with the title of Rancher of the Year.â
Applause erupted across the room, with you clapping the loudest, beaming from ear to ear. Rhett ducked his head, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention, but he stood anyway, reaching the podium in a few easy strides.
Winston turned to him, wide smile on his face. In his hands was a plaque, etched with Rhettâs name. âCongratulations, Rhett. You, of all people, most definitely deserve this award.â
Rhett graciously accepted the plaque, shaking Winstonâs hand. A photographer for the local newspaper instructed them to pose, just before Rhett stepped forward to speak into the microphone.Â
âI canât begin to say what an honor this is. Thank you for choosinâ me, I donât feel worthy of it, but Iâm thankful. Thanks to everyone whoâs been in my corner since day one. Donât think I wouldâve started this ranchinâ business if it werenât for everyone who came alongside me and helped make it happen.â Then his gaze shifted to you, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. âMost importantly, thank you to my wife, for believinâ in me, even when I didnât believe in myself.â
You pressed your hand to your heart, nodding at him, tears welling in your own eyes. âI love you,â you mouthed.
Once again, the room erupted into applause, and a moment later, Rhett stepped off the stage and made his way back to you. His shoulders fell slightly as he sat down, relieved that moment was finally done. But the stress was far from over, as you would soon find out.
Winston continued on his spiel, and then Jackson, the vice president, walked up to say a few words. Following him, a few other members of the association spoke, launching into agriculture jargon that you didnât necessarily find interesting.
The program was actually quite brief, and it wasnât long at all before it was time to move on to the second half of the night, which was a time of socializing, along with hors dâoeuvres and various assortments of Christmas desserts.Â
As everyone stood from their seats, the room filled with the low murmur of voices. Snippets of conversations carried across the room as people made small talk.Â
You found yourself tucked against Rhettâs side, ignoring the fact that Maria was still nearby, hoping that Jackson wouldnât try to start another conversation with Rhett and involve his wife again. If you had to watch her continue to pretend she didnât even know Rhett, you were certain you would go off on her.
Rhettâs mother came to bid him goodbye and express how proud she was of him. Several others who were members of the association stopped to congratulate him. And for a little while, it seemed that perhaps there would not be another encounter with Maria. You would be perfectly content if you didnât have to put on a front and pretend to be nice to her for the rest of the night.
The anger you felt was an odd sort of feeling. You were not one for overt, public displays of emotion like that. But you had come a long way from the timid girl you used to be. In the beginning, Rhett had gone to bat for you. Heâd defended you when you were mistreated in your workplace, after only knowing you for a few days. He came to your aid when Luke Tillersonâs wife had upset you. Heâd stood up for you through it all.Â
But now, you had come into your own. And while you still had a long way to go, you were nowhere near as insecure and frightened as you once had been. Rhett had built you up and helped you learn how to be sure of yourself.Â
It was a wonder what being in a healthy, loving relationship could do for oneâs self-esteem.
Your love for him ran deep. You were so grateful for all heâd done, and how heâd changed your life. In some ways it translated into this protectiveness toward him. After learning of all the pain he had endured, you would do everything in your power to ensure he did not suffer through it again.Â
So when Jackson Riggs and his wife Maria approached Rhett once again that night, you raised your hackles.Â
âCongratulations on the award,â Jackson praised your husband. âYouâve done a lot for the community. Yâshould be proud of yourself.â
âThanks,â Rhett answered. He was less jarred than heâd been when he first saw Maria, but it was still surreal.Â
You remained at his side, eyeing the woman, and you noticed something. She wouldnât look at him. Her eyes kept flickering this way and that, focusing on everything else but Rhett.Â
Something about that sent fire through you. And it was the straw that broke the camelâs back.
âWhy wonât you look at him?âÂ
An unfamiliar boldness washed over you. The edge to your tone surprised even yourself.Â
Maria startled slightly, dark eyes widening. âE-excuse me?â
âRhett. Why wonât you look at Rhett?â
She offered a nervous smile. âIâm sorry, I donât know what you mean.â
âDarlinâ, itâs okay,â Rhett eased.Â
âNo. Itâs not okay.â You felt compelled to say your piece. âLook at him, Maria. Stop acting like youâve never met him before.â
Beside her, Jackson looked confused as could be. âI donât know what youâre gettinâ at here, Mrs. Abbott. My wifeâs never met your husband before.âÂ
âWith all due respect, she has.â
Maria blanched. âNo, I-â
âDonât. You donât get to do that, not after what you did.â
Rhett made no move to stop you. In fact, he was very interested in what you had to say.Â
âPlease, letâs not do this here,â she tried to reason. She looked wildly uncomfortable. It only served to piss you off more.Â
âYou should have thought of that before you walked in here and acted like youâve never met this man. You have a lot of nerve, you know that? Coming here tonight, knowing he was getting this award.â
âI didnât know,â she defended. âReally, I didnât. Not until a few days ago. Jack and I just got married last month and this is the first time Iâve been involved in one of these events.â
Jackson turned to his wife, eyes narrowed. âWill someone explain to me what the hellâs goinâ on?â
Maria clamped her mouth shut, as if unsure of what to say.Â
You folded your arms across your chest. âGo ahead. Tell him how you betrayed Rhett.â
âIâŠâ Her eyes grew tearful, and she shook her head. âThat was so long ago. It shouldnât matter.â
Shocked, you stared at her for a moment.Â
âNo, you donât get to do that. Rhett mightâve moved on from what you did, but I didnât. He told me everything. How you went behind his back. How you broke your vows and cheated on him with his fucking brother. And you want to come here and act like you donât know him? Like he just simply forgot what you did to him?! No, thatâs not gonna fly with me.âÂ
Jacksonâs face was slack with shock. âMariaâŠis that true?â
You noticed she still refused to look at Rhett. She nodded her head, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks and ruin her makeup. âItâs true,â she whispered. âI-I know I shouldâve told you. Iâm so sorry.â
âNo, donât tell him youâre sorry. Heâs not the one you cheated on. Tell Rhett.â You stepped forward slightly. âLook at him, Maria. Look my husband in the eye and tell him youâre sorry for cheating on him with his brother.â You were so fucking angry. You wanted her to pay penance for what sheâd done. For breaking Rhettâs heart and spirit.Â
âI donâtââ
âYou never did apologize.â Rhett spoke for the first time. Maria finally managed to look at him. âAfter everythinâ. I never got so much as a âIâm sorryâ outta your mouth. You blamed everyone else. First it was fuckinâ Perryâs fault. Then it was my fault, because, what, I wasnât home enough? I was always off at the rodeo? As if that gave you the green light to fuck another man in our bed.â
âJesus Christ, Mar.â Jackson was not handling the news well.Â
âNo matter how many times I was away from you, I never looked at other women. Not once. Because I knew you were waitinâ for me at home, and Iâd never go behind your back like that.â
Maria was floundering. âThat was fifteen years ago, Rhett.â
âSixteen,â you corrected, tone sharp. âComing up on seventeen, actually. You owe him an apology for everything you did. So give it to him, Maria. Apologize.â
Bottom lip quivering, she forced herself to speak again, knowing she could not talk her way out of this situation. âFine,â she managed, regret clear on her face, âIâm sorry, Rhett. I-I was so wrong to do what I did. Iâve regretted it every day of my life since then.âÂ
The air between you went still. Quiet.Â
Rhettâs shoulders sagged.Â
You lifted your hand to rest it reassuringly against his back. Waiting for him to speak. To decide if he would accept her apology. It was his choice, not yours.Â
âThank you,â was all he managed, voice gravelly, full of unspoken emotion. There was no I forgive you.Â
Jackson sighed, clearly embarrassed by the whole situation. âI should apologize, too. I promise you, I had no idea about any of this. I think Iâve been played for a fool,â It was clear he had much to discuss with his new bride.Â
âIâd say you have,â you agreed. Then you looked at Maria again. âBut maybe I should thank you, in a way. Because if he hadnât left you, I never would have met him. I love this man the way he deserves. And Iâll defend him âtil the day I die.â
She didnât know what to say to that. In fact, you wondered if she was even truly sorry at all, or if she was simply sorry she got called out. Either way, she was speechless.Â
âAgain, Iâm sorry. Weâve got a lot of things to discuss,â Jackson was the one who broke the tense silence, glancing ruefully at his wife. âI wish I wouldâve known about this sooner. Could have saved us all a lot of embarrassment.â
âYou didnât know,â Rhett stated, âsimple as that. But itâs over anâ done with now. If youâll excuse us, mâ wife and I are gonna head home. Good luck figuring all your shit out. It ainât my problem any longer.â
With that, he gently took hold of your arm, and guided you away from the dismayed couple. The small shock of adrenaline and boldness youâd felt when you went off on Maria was beginning to fade, and now you felt just a little embarrassed. But you did not regret sticking up for Rhett, not one bit.Â
âI-Iâm sorry, maybe I-âÂ
âWeâll talk about it outside,â Rhett told you as led you to the coatroom.Â
You didnât say anything more, focusing on getting your coat on and changing into your boots. You couldnât read your husbandâs expression. Was he upset with you for confronting his ex-wife? Had you embarrassed him?Â
These thoughts plagued you as you sauntered out into the frigid night, and you worried that maybe youâd overstepped. Perhaps he hadnât wanted you to say anything. Maybe heâd been content to just pretend he didnât know Maria, as sheâd done to him, and carry on as if everything was fine.Â
As you walked to the truck, the silence drove you to speak again, because you simply could not take it any longer.Â
âRhett, Iâm so sorry, I shouldnât haveâ oh!â
In an instant, he grabbed you, swinging you around and pushing you (carefully) against the door of the truck, his hand at the back of your head to keep it from bumping the window. You gasped in shock, and barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth was on yours in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.Â
Heat gathered in your belly, traveling through your extremities, down to your fingers and toes. Almost instantly, you relaxed, tension melting from your body in waves.Â
When you parted, your breathing was labored, and your head was spinning.Â
âDonât you dare apologize,â Rhett breathed, chest heaving slightly. His eyes were narrowed, lips parted.Â
Still trying to gain your bearings, you said, âit wasnât too much?â
He shook his head emphatically. âNo, darlinâ. Maria needed to hear all that cominâ from someone who wasnât me, and you were the best person for that.â
You breathed a sigh of relief. âGood. I was worried that maybe I overstepped. I donât ever want to embarrass you. Least of all tonight, of all nights.â
He leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. âYâdidnât embarrass me one bit. Iâm glad you said somethinâ. I felt like a goddamn idiot, just starinâ at her. Kinda didnât know what to say. Youâd think, after all these years, I wouldâve thought about what I might say to her if I saw her again. But then you took all the words right outta my mouth.â
âWell I just couldnât get past the audacity of pretending she was meeting you for the first time. That made me so mad, I couldnât hold my tongue anymore. After what she did, I wasnât about to let her act like nothing even happened.âÂ
Rhett kissed you again before he spoke. âIâm so fuckinâ proud of you. Watchinâ you stand up for meâŠâ he trailed off, his face only inches from yours, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. âHoney, you have no idea how sexy that was. I was watchinâ you the whole time, just amazed. Youâre hot when youâre pissed.â He finished his words with a grin, though there was a huskiness to his voice.
Your heart fluttered within your chest, mouth going dry suddenly. âO-oh,â was all you managed, breathless.Â
His expression grew desirous, and he ducked in nice and close, hands against the truck, bracketing either side of your head, caging you in. âYou looked like one of them hissy, spittinâ little kittens.â Another kiss, this one deeper, more salacious.Â
When his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, allowing him access. Your knees went weak, and you whimpered into the kiss.Â
Reluctantly, he broke away, cupping your cheek in his palm. âHereâs whatâs gonâ happen, darlinâ,â he drawled. You had to process his words for a moment, your head fuzzy. âIâm gonna take you home. Then Iâm gonna get you outta this pretty little outfit and make love to your cute body all night long. You deserve a reward for beinâ so good to me.â
You whined softly, nodding your head. It was as if your ability to speak had left you completely. That was the effect Rhett had on you. It was a wonder how you could go from angrily telling off Maria, to melting under your husbandâs touch no more than ten minutes later.Â
âLetâs go home.â He guided you into the truck, and once you were safely inside, he came around to his own side, and within seconds, heâd started the truck. Hurriedly, he turned on the heat, letting the interior warm up a bit before he pulled out of the parking lot, relieved to be leaving this stuffy event.Â
As he turned onto the main road, you leaned over the console, head resting upon his shoulder. If you were being truthful, that whole altercation with Maria had zapped your energy. Funny how something like that could affect you so much.Â
Youâd been harboring that anger toward her for a while. And when you saw her, it boiled over like a kettle left on the stove for too long.Â
But you did not regret the confrontation. Not one bit.
And now, you were the one that got to go home with Rhett, not her. You were going to end up naked in his bed that night. Not her. He was all yours. And always would be.
Perhaps, along with your anger, a fiery sense of possessiveness had washed over you. And maybe, just maybe, you had wanted to flaunt the fact that he was your man, and you loved him like no one else could.Â
And as you reflected on that, you found yourself nuzzling closer to Rhett, mouthing at his neck, breathing in his scent. Spicy and earthy and slightly sweet, from both the cologne and the aftershave he wore. But then there was that underlying scent that he naturally possessed. An almost musky, manly scent that could only be described as Rhett. You swore you could get drunk off that scent.
He pervaded all your senses. All you could see, smell, hear, taste, feel, was him. And god, it drove you wild.
âWhoa there, darlinâ. Be patient now, ya hear? Weâve still got a while before weâre home,â Rhett reasoned with you. You hadnât realized youâd started trailing your hand along the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his cock, hidden by his well fitting trousers.Â
He was certainly not opposed to messing around while driving, however, he wanted to get you home so he could truly take his time with you. He didnât want a rushed hand job in the car, he wanted to worship you.Â
But you whined softly, sucking on his neck, tongue soothing over the heated skin. âI wanâ you,â you mumbled, rather pitifully.
âI know. Anâ you can have me. After we get home.âÂ
But you kept suckling at his pulse point, and your hand kept traveling higher, and you made the prettiest little sounds, your neediness driving you. You were testing him. Seeing if heâd stop you.Â
He gasped softly when you gently grasped his dick through his pants, hips shifting slightly. But the hand that wasnât on the wheel came to rest heavily upon your own, and in a quiet, stern voice, he said, âI told you to wait.â
There was something so commanding in the way he said it. It made you draw your hand away from him instantly. âSorry.â
He lovingly squeezed your thigh to show you he wasnât upset. âJust you wait âtil I get you home, honey. Gonna lay you out and fuck you nice anâ proper, the way you deserve.â
You knew he would fulfill that promise. Your belly filled with butterflies as you pictured what was to come. As of late, you had been exploring some new things. Delving into kinks you had not tried before, yet found yourself interested in.Â
Rhett was very good about taking things at a slow pace. He knew what he liked, and had already experimented with a lot of things over the years. For you, however, it was different. You had been much less experienced than he was when you met him. You had been with a few people, but had never truly been satisfied.Â
No one had cared enough to take the time to learn every inch of your body, so they could bring you the most pleasure imaginable. No, Rhett was the only one who had done that. He was the only one who cherished your sexuality and submission. Who saw you as a person, rather than an object for his own pleasure.
And when heâd first brought you home to the ranch, his intent had not been to get you into his bed. In fact, he resisted sleeping with you at all for the first six months of living together, because he did not want to make you feel pressured, after all the negative experiences you had been through.
In fact, you were the one who had initiated sex in the beginning, because you wanted him so badly, and yearned to experience that intimate connection with him.
And oh, how much you had learned since then. You had been expanding your sexual escapades and trying new things. You let Rhett introduce you to the different desires and kinks he had, and you had become rather comfortable expressing your own needs and wants to him. He had worked with you on that. He knew how important communication was, and he was adamant that you were open with each other.
As of late, you had begun to delve into the realm of dominant and submissive roles. Naturally, Rhett was the dominant one when it came to sex. It was how you preferred it, and he assumed that role with ease. But you had only just begun to partake in more intense and involved scenes.
You had never known what true release could feel like until he guided you through one of those more drawn out scenes. It was the first time you had ever entered into that floaty, euphoric state known as subspace. There was something so raw and beautiful about that experience.Â
And tonight, he planned to bring you there again.
When he finally pulled into the long driveway that led up to the house, you were squirming in anticipation. You knew that once you crossed over the threshold into your home, that you could turn your brain off, and give him full and complete control. No more worrying about stuffy rancherâs events or conniving ex-wives.
All you had to focus on was being his obedient little girl.
âCâmon, letâs get you inside.â Rhett shut the truck off and then quickly climbed out into the chilly night, coming around to open your own door for you, large hand grasping your own to guide you down from the truck.
Together, you hurried up the porch steps, and Rhett swiftly unlocked the door, stepping aside for you to head into the inviting warmth of the house, with him following suit seconds later. He shut the door behind him, blindly reaching for the light switch beside the door, which soon bathed the entryway in soft light.Â
Normally, the first thing you did after coming inside and getting settled, was head into the living room to turn the Christmas tree lights on. But right now, you were rather distracted.Â
You could already feel yourself slipping into that more submissive headspace. Something that was a bit new for you, with your recent and more involved exploration of the dynamic. But you welcomed it like you might welcome a warm hug.Â
It was new for Rhett, too, as he was just beginning to grow accustomed to your tells. He noticed that your eyes would go a little unfocused. Your posture would change. You would become more clingy. Not that he minded, of course. He loved watching that shift in your demeanor. It filled his chest with warm, protective vibes.
You had discussed these things extensively before you even started participating in this dynamic. Rhett made sure every base was covered, because he wanted this to be a good experience for you. He wanted you to feel safe and comfortable. And you, in turn, wanted that for him.Â
It was all built on trust. You trusted each other implicitly. And there were safeguards in place, for both of you.Â
You were still learning as you went. All your likes, dislikes, things you wanted to try, so on and so forth. The possibilities were endless, it felt like. But there was one thing you were still uncertain of. And that was how to address him.
Oftentimes, you found yourself calling him Sir during these scenes. Yet it didnât feel quite right. It didnât roll off the tongue. Didnât suit him. In your mind, you knew of the perfect title. The name that encapsulated everything he was. A title that was not only rooted in kink, but also in trust and reverence.Â
But you hadnât spoken the name yet. Despite all you had done together up to this point. How deep into subspace heâd coaxed you. That title? Daddy.Â
Perhaps it was partly because there was a little part of you that was embarrassed. Shy. Despite the fact that you had no reason to be. But you had not discussed the title with him yet. You hadnât found the right time to bring it up. And yet, it was always on the tip of your tongue when participating in kink settings. One day, you would slip up and say it, you were sure of it.Â
How would he react? Would he tell you not to use the name? Or would he revel in it, and encourage you to use it again and again?Â
You would soon find out.Â
âCâmere.â His voice, velvety and deep, was suddenly in your ear. You were brought back to the present as he knelt down before you, gaze earnest. âUp.â He lifted your leg, carefully tugging your boot off your foot. Then, he did the same for the other one, leaving you standing in your stocking clad feet, staring down at him.
That quiet act of dominance made your brain go a bit haywire.
Then he rose to his full height and eased your coat from your body, taking the time to hang it in the hall closet before he turned back to you. At some point, heâd already removed his own boots and coat. Huh. You mustâve been daydreaming when he did that, as you had no recollection of it happening.Â
Then he was crowding your space, solid and steady against you, hands moving to rest upon your hips. âLook at me.â
Your gaze flickered to him.Â
âI wanâ take care of you tonight. Show you how proud I am, how much I love ya.â He kissed the corner of your mouth. âBe a good girl and go up and get ready for me. Clothes off. Make sure youâre on your knees.â
You replied affirmatively. Or rather, you tried to, but your mouth was loose around the word, and your head felt as if it was filled with cotton. Somehow, you managed to verbalize your answer in the end. âYes sir.â
You turned, and on unsteady legs, you made your way to the staircase. Rhett watched you ascend the steps, and while you went up to ready yourself for him, he took a moment to get into the right headspace.
He took his role very seriously. Your submission was precious to him. A sacred, priceless gift that he deeply cherished. Seeing you embrace that part of yourself was one of the most beautiful things he had ever had the privilege of witnessing.Â
He had to enter into the proper headspace to be able to handle that gift in the way that you deserved.
He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. He pictured you, so obediently doing what heâd instructed. Removing your clothes. Lowering yourself to your knees, ready and waiting for him. So perfect. All his.Â
He rolled his neck, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Letting the dayâs stressors melt away. Pushing it all aside. Now, it was time to focus on you.Â
He let a few moments pass, giving you adequate time to prepare. Then, he climbed the stairs, passing through the hallway until he reached the end, where your shared bedroom was. As he crossed the threshold, he was pleased to find you waiting for him, kneeling at the foot of the bed.Â
The sight took his breath away.Â
You lifted your head as he walked in, eyes following his movements. Silent, waiting for him to take the lead. You watched him as he crossed the room. He took his time, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves.Â
All the while, you remained on the floor, naked.
He stepped toward you, appraising you. His hand came down to cup your cheek, and you immediately melted into his touch, body going lax, eyes fluttering shut. Giving yourself to him.Â
âLook at you. Mâ perfect little darlinâ.â
Your heart sang at his praise.Â
Hand still against your cheek, his thumb traced over your bottom lip. Wordlessly, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the digit, holding eye contact with him as you did so.Â
His eyes narrowed slightly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Oh, how eager you were.Â
âWhat do you say if you want me to stop?â He asked.Â
You pulled off of his thumb to answer with your safeword. âAppaloosa.âÂ
He hummed, satisfied with your answer, fingers lovingly stroking your cheek. Here, you were level with his crotch, and you found yourself reaching up, pawing at him through the fabric of his pants.Â
For a moment, he watched you, enamored. His breath caught in his chest when you leaned forward, rubbing your cheek against him.Â
âCan I play with it?â You so sweetly asked.Â
It took him a moment to find his words. ââCourse you can.â He made quick work of unbuckling his belt, followed by the button and zipper of the pants. He pushed the fabric, along with his underwear, aside, before he freed his hardening cock.Â
âThis what you want? Hm?â Gripping the base in his large hand.Â
Your mouth watered at the sight. He was so deliciously thick.Â
Eagerly, you leaned forward, gently taking hold of him, feeling it grow harder in your palm. You offered a tentative lick to the very tip before you wrapped your lips around it, humming in delight.Â
Rhett gazed down at you, in awe of your reverence. Your mouth felt so good around him, and the sounds you made as you took him further, little gums of delight, made him shiver.Â
âFuck, honey. Yâgot no idea how good that wet liâl mouth feels on me,â he murmured as you inched your way down. You pulled back to swirl your tongue up and down his shaft, and he grunted, hips jolting slightly. âYeah, fuckinâ worship it, show me how much you love it.â
"I love it,â you gasped, mouthing at him, hand still stroking. âSo big, makes me soâŠâ You trailed off as you drooled all over him, in a world of delight.Â
"I know it. Makes you soakinâ wet, donât it? If I let yâkeep this up, that cunt of yours is gonna start dribblinâ all over the damn floor, ainât that right?â He was well aware how needy you got when sucking him off.Â
âMhm.â You took him in your mouth again, inching down, down, down. He was fully hard now, and you had to widen your jaw further to accommodate him.Â
He placed his hand on the back of your head, not pushing, but gently guiding. You were determined to take all of him, and he wasnât going to stop you, but he was going to monitor you to make sure you werenât pushing yourself to take more than you were ready for.Â
He always liked to ease you into it, no matter how many times youâd done this, because he was hyper aware of your comfort, and would never push you further than you could handle.Â
But you wanted all of it, and moments later, you found yourself with your nose pressed against his pubic bone, against the gathering of coarse, neatly kept hair. You swallowed around him, and he hissed, head falling back and eyes fluttering shut.Â
âChrist.â
You wished you could stay that way longer, just from his reaction alone. Oh, how you loved to pleasure him. But you had your limits, and you soon had to pull back to breathe.Â
As you did so, however, you brought your hand up to wrap around him, stroking his spit slick shaft, kissing along the side, humming at the taste of him.
âI love your cock,â you confessed, sounding entirely drunk already. What an effect he had on you.Â
Rhett grunted softly, reaching out to run his knuckles over your cheek. You were so good for him. So willing to please.
You took him down your throat once again, relishing in the way your mouth stretched around him, how it was almost difficult to take him, but not so much so that it was painful. You felt like such a cock drunk whore, but how could you resist him when he made the most salacious sounds as your throat constricted around him?
It filled you with pride to know you were the one who elicited those sounds from him. The heat of possessiveness bloomed in your chest, and as you pulled off him to catch your breath again, you vocalized it. âMine,â you murmured against him, kissing along the underside of his shaft.Â
You heard him hum deep within his chest. âOh, honey. You feelinâ possessive, huh?â He cooed.Â
âUh-huh. Mine, all mine.â
âYâgot that right. Sâall yours.â It came out as a growl, and it made you whine softly, vibrating with need.
You were so fucking turned on, shivers ran through your body. You shifted, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You could feel your own arousal, slick between your legs. Rhett watched you, and the way you were rutting your hips against the air, and he groaned lowly. He couldnât wait another minute. He needed to take you right then and there.
âCâmere.â He hauled you up, gently shushing your whine of protest. âI ainât finishing down your throat, as much as I want to. When I come, itâs gonna be inside this pretty pussy.â His hand trailed down the front of your body until his fingers met the place where you needed him most.
His mouth curved into a delighted smile, the blue of his eyes darkening with desire. âDarlinâ, youâre soaked.â He teased you with a featherlight touch, gathering your slick on his middle and ring fingers. Your knees almost buckled as he brushed over your sensitive little bundle.
Then he was lifting his hand and examining the sticky sheen of your arousal on his fingertips. âAll this just from suckinâ my dick for a few minutes, huh?âÂ
You simply nodded in agreement, unable to speak. You burned with need for him, to the point where it clouded your brain, and you could not find it in yourself to be even a little embarrassed at your desperation. He loved that you didnât try to hold back. He had always encouraged you to be confident in your desires, and he was so pleased that you were.
âGet on the bed for me.â
You complied, turning to climb onto the plush king-size bed. As you settled, you watched him unbutton his shirt, shrugging out of it and carelessly dropping it on the floor. His pants and underwear were pulled the rest of the way down his legs, and soon, he was just as bare as you were, cock bobbing heavily as he stepped toward you.
He was breathtaking. Naked as the day he was born, body decorated with both tattoos and scars from his youth. Markings that each held a special origin story. All of which heâd told you during the countless nights you lay in bed with him, tracing the scars and ink.
You were still riddled with disbelief over the fact that he was yours. This strong, determined, loving, gentle, beautiful man had pledged himself to you, âtil death did you part. Oh, how lucky you were.Â
âLook at me.â His voice, low and smooth as velvet, swirled around you like the heady smoke from the hand carved pipe he liked to puff on every evening.Â
Your eyes flickered up to his. A gaze so intense you feared you might disintegrate beneath it. He climbed onto the bed, maneuvering his body over your own, straddling you, cock brushing against your abdomen as he moved.Â
He was so big above you. You might even say imposing, if you didnât feel so safe and protected with him. He was broad. Deceptive strength hiding within the sinew of his being, from years of intense physical labor.
God, you wanted him to consume your every sense. Wanted him inside you, surrounding you, body warm and steady against yours, scent filling your nose, moans filling your ears. You wanted it so badly that you were growing impatient.
You looked down, and whimpered pathetically, wanting to be filled. Almost frantically, you began rutting your hips, trying to coax him to slip inside you. But he had other plans.
âHey now,â Rhett drawled, âslow down there, little darlinâ. Ainât gotta rush.â
âBut Iââ
âYouâll get it, I promise. But let me take my time with yâ first, wanna enjoy my baby.â
He wanted to worship you the way you deserved. So he began his descent, kissing you languidly on the mouth, tongue delving past your lips, tasting you, relishing in the whine you let out. When he pulled back, your mouth was spit slick and your eyes had gone a little unfocused.Â
With a delighted smile, he continued on down, kissing your chin, then trailing down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping at the skin, soothing over it with his tongue. God, he was addicted to the taste of you.Â
âCould just eat you up,â he murmured against you.Â
Your hands found their way to his hair as he went lower, kissing along your chest, down your abdomen, down, down, down until he reached your thighs. There, he settled, large hands gripping each of them as he kissed the delicate skin along the inside.Â
He peppered little love bites there, and the sound of your breathy little gasps and moans was music to his ears. He loved your body. He loved making you feel good. And he always felt a swell of pride, knowing he was the only man who had this privilege.
There had been a few others before him, but you had confessed that they had no idea how to pleasure you. They hadnât brought you to the heights of bliss that he had. They had been poor lovers, unconcerned with your own desires. Careless.Â
He had shown you how good it could be. And now that youâd gotten a taste, you couldnât get enough. Neither could he. Even though time had passed, he was still just as enamored with you, if not more so.Â
âGonna make you feel so good, honey,â he lulled, as his fingers carefully parted your glistening folds. âSâwhat you deserve.â
He gazed up at you through hooded eyes, gauging your reaction as he offered a tentative lick, tasting you, teasing you. You were breathtaking above him, body undulating in anticipation of what was to come, chest heaving. Even as you hands remained in his hair, fingers threaded through the silver locks, you showed no instinct to steer him, to force him to hurry, despite the fact that you did want instant gratification. Heâd told you not to rush, and you would obey, just as you always did.
Murmuring soft praises, he lowered his eager mouth slowly into the honeyed warmth between your thighs. And oh, how messy you were, dripping down his chin as he licked into you, savoring in the heady taste. His hands held fast at your thighs, forcing them wider apart.
Let me in, pretty thing. My sweet baby.
Jusâ relax, yeah? Lemme eat this pussy for a while.
You obeyed his commands, which were muffled against your cunt, letting him devour you as he saw fit. You let out the sweetest little squeak of delight, and he couldnât help but smile against you, wanting to draw more of those sounds out of you. So unashamed of your pleasure, wanting him to know how good he was making you feel.Â
He buried his face even further between your legs, mouth lapping at your wet folds, intoxicated with the taste of you, uncaring if he came away with his mouth soaked. That was what he wanted, after all. The messier, the better.
You shivered, squeezing your eyes shut as you lost yourself to the feeling of his mouth against you. He noisily slurped at you, humming in satisfaction. As always, he got just as much pleasure out of this as you did.
When you lifted your head to gaze down at him, he locked eyes with you, and finally wrapped his lips around your neglected bud, sucking firmly, listening to you cry out his name, growling when your fingers tugged at his hair.
Your back arched off the bed, body engulfed in the throes of warm bliss, fizzing through your bloodstream.Â
Eager to hear you call his name again, he flattened his tongue against your clit, his eyes fixed on the way your head rolled back, chest jutting out, heaving in time with your labored breaths.Â
Yes, right there, donât stop.
He sucked on your clit until your legs began to tremble around his head, muscles involuntarily twitching as you lost control of some of your motor functions, brain clouded with desire, experiencing a sensation that was out of body, not of this world.Â
If he kept going, you knew youâd quickly fall apart. But as you began to grind against his face, he pulled back away, burying his nose against the apex of your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, a sharp contrast to the pleasure you had just been feeling.
The way you sobbed into the open air made him shiver, driving him to continue, determined to draw that beautiful sound from you again.Â
He soon brought his fingers into the mix, teasing you with them, dipping them inside you, groaning softly at the feeling of your velvety walls, which would soon be clasped around his cock.Â
But first, he had a different idea.Â
You deserved as many orgasms as you could handle, after what youâd done tonight. And he was determined to give them to you. Starting with one on his tongue.Â
So he dove back in, fingers still inside you as he began to swirl his pink tongue around you. You kept one hand in his hair, but the other flew out to the side, gripping at the quilt beneath you.
You were losing yourself, he could tell. Gone was your restraint, replaced with unabashed moans and whimpers, growing all the more desperate for release as time went on. He loved when your reservations went out the window. When you let yourself succumb to that sexual energy thrumming through your body.Â
As you trembled above him, he hastened his ministrations, free hand pressing against your lower abdomen, anchoring you, palm warm and familiar against your skin.Â
âGive it to me, honey,â he pleaded against you, curling his fingers within you, coming in contact with that spongy little surface deep inside you that made you see stars. âCâmon, wanâ this pussy to squirt all over my face.â
You knew it would happen, too. Before Rhett, you had been convinced that you couldnât experience such a thing. But he had quickly proved you wrong. Now, neither of you could get enough. He loved drawing it out of you. Watching your release soak the sheets.
âSh-shouâshould g-get a towel,â you managed to stammer, barely able to find your voice, searching for the words in your brain, as if youâd suddenly gone dumb. But you were still aware that you were going to make a mess.
Rhett didnât care. âIâll clean it up,â he promised, gasping against your dripping cunt, so eager to taste you, to be soaked by you, molten gold, shimmering against his skin, the evidence of the affect he had on you.
Your tight little hole fluttered with the need to be filled, swallowing his fingers in, yet in need of something more, something bigger, to be joined as one with his body and his soul.
So he upped the intensity, tongue lapping at you, mouth sucking on your poor, thrumming clit, urging you on, silently begging you to let go. Come for me, fuckinâ soak me.Â
And you were there, cresting that peak, climbing higher, higher, higher, until, âOh! I-Iâmââ But the words died in your throat as your body went taut, moments before deep tremors wracked you, overwhelming you as you unraveled like a spool of thread in his skilled hands.
Instinctively, he buried his face deeper, lapping your release from you, his rounded nose pressed against your oversensitive little bundle. Addicted to your taste. Pleading for more, encouraging you to give it all to him.
âThere ya go. Taste so fuckinâ sweet.â
God, he was still going. Fingers and tongue keeping speed, not giving you any reprieve. Even as you came down from the intensity, vibrating, shaking, gasping. You had to push his head away as the pleasure became too much, like a fire left unattended, consuming its surroundings.Â
He relented, pressing a delicate kiss to your still twitching clit before lifting himself, biceps flexing as he brought his body to hover over you, dragging his wet mouth up your belly, over your heaving breast.Â
When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. And when he parted from you, he smiled at your fucked out gaze, big hand coming up to brush over your forehead, stroking your warm cheek, as he cooed at you.
âSuch a good girl fâme. Think you can give me another one?â
You nodded.
âUh-uh. Words, baby. Talk tâme.â
âY-yes.â God, you could barely speak. Why did your head feel as if it was filled with cotton, your brain as useless as a stuffed Build-A-Bearâs? All you knew was that you wanted more of Rhett. More of his touch. More of bliss he could provide you with. More, more, more.
He smiled. âYeah?â His hand skimmed down your tummy, fingers exploring, leaving goosebumps in their wake. âI wanna make yâfeel good. Make this pussy come as many times as she can handle. Howâs that sound?â His voice caressed you like black silk.
Could you truly handle such a thing? You were no stranger to overstimulation, but somehow, something felt different about tonight. You couldnât quite put your finger on it. But you felt much moreâŠvulnerable, in a way. And now, as your husband lingered over you, so broad and solid and strong, you felt so small, soâŠwhat? Fragile? Perhaps.
Yet you found yourself saying, âo-okay.â
He hummed, thumb brushing over your cheek, then your parted lips. âThatâs mâgirl. You tell me if it gets to be too much, alright?â
âYes sir.â
Then he was pulling away, and suddenly, the lack of contact had you whining in protest as you were robbed of his warmth, of his contact.
âHold your horses, darlinâ. Iâm just gettinâ situated.â He moved so that his back was against the headboard, and then he patted the space beside him, which you eagerly occupied. He tugged you close, so that you were pressed against his side, once again consumed with his warmth. It brought you such comfort.
He arranged you exactly how he wanted you, with your head resting on his shoulder, your thighs parted, offering him a clear view of your glistening apex, swollen from your previous orgasm.
As he brought his hand down to rest there, you realized he intended to use his fingers to bring you to your end a second time. Yet you glanced over to find his cock achingly hard, resting against his hip, and you made a forlorn sound of longing.
âYouâll get it, donât worry,â he assured you, âremember, I wanna take my time with you.â
You thought you might die if you didnât get him inside you soon, but at the same time, you wanted to be in the moment and thoroughly enjoy the reverence he wished to bestow upon you.
So you let your head loll against him, watching through hooded eyes as his thick, yet somehow still elegant, fingers began to swirl over you. Teasing, running along the outer edges of your pussy before delving in further, smearing your arousal over the delicate skin there.
He was delighted at how wet you were. All for him. All because of him. âWho made yâthis wet?â
âYou.â A whisper. Barely audible.
âLouder.â
âY-you.â Your voice cracked.Â
His fingers brushed over that bundle again, and you hissed softly. âStill canât hear you.â Teasing. Knowing full well what you had said, but wanting you to repeat it nonetheless.
âYou did!â A cry that echoed throughout the bedroom.Â
He turned your face with his free hand and kissed you languidly, just as his fingers dipped inside you again. The broken moan that was ripped from your throat was swallowed by his eager mouth.
He wasnât rough, because he knew you were still sensitive after coming on his tongue. But he was deliberate, knowing also that you needed a little more to bring you over the edge a second time. This one didnât come as easily. He would have to work for it. But that was the beauty of it, because after this one, your body would let its guard down, and your sensitivity would allow him to draw orgasmic bliss from you much more easily.
His fingers worked you over, having mapped out your body long ago. Sometimes it felt as if heâd memorized you down to the marrow of your bones. As if he knew you better than you knew yourself.
It was why he knew you could handle this. Why he soothed you as you cried out against his mouth, assuring you that you could give him more, that you were his good girl and good girls always do what theyâre told.
Yes, you could be good for him. You wanted to be. You were desperate to be. âI can be good! I-I-I promise!â You heard yourself gasping into the air, but your voice sounded so far away, so disembodied, as if you were speaking from somewhere far away and not from Rhettâs king-size bed.
âI know you can, I know it,â he assured you, his heart rate quickening in his chest as he watched you. Your eyes were unfocused again. You were practically drooling. And the way you were clenching around his fingers had his cock twitching.Â
âPlease, please, please.â You had no idea what you were pleading for. He was already giving it all to you. But you were suddenly so overwhelmed, body hot all over, tears pricking at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as you convulsed in his arms, breath coming out in short bursts.
You were clutching his arm, fingers digging into his flesh, sure to leave indents, though you were hardly aware of it. Too focused on that building flicker of pleasure, so much more intense than the first, almost unbearable. Too much and just right and not enough, all at once. How was that even possible?
Donât stop. Donât fucking stop. Right there.Â
You werenât sure if you were saying the words, or merely thinking them. But then his voice was in your ear. âI can feel you squeezinâ my fingers. Youâre close, ainât ya baby?â But you couldnât utter a vocal confirmation. You could barely even nod your head.Â
âGive it to me.â
Almost there.
âThatâs it, just let go.â
So close. You could reach out and grasp it if you tried, like a delectable fruit ready to be plucked from a tree. Yet it wouldnât descend upon you. Not yet. And with each passing moment, as his fingers carried you toward the crest and your body became a live wire, you were beginning to spiral.
The tears that had been gathering in your eyes poured down your cheeks. Hot against your skin. It wasnât merely a state of pleasure he was bringing you to. This was ethereal. Otherworldly.Â
And then he was there, in your line of sight, mouth curled in determination, eyes hard-set. âCome.â
And you did. Mouth falling open in a silent scream, gaze locked with his, you tensed, as if your body was preparing for the onslaught it was about to experience. And then you were free-falling, tumbling down, down, down, ears ringing, heart hammering, crying out incoherent half-sentences as you were consumed.
You had no recollection of blacking out, but when you opened your eyes, you were cradled in Rhettâs arms as he gently rocked you back and forth. âIâm here. Iâve got ya. Did so good for me. Fuck, honey, youâre perfect. My best girl. My perfect darlinâ.â
God, you were crying. Tears continuously streaming down your cheeks. And oh, how you shivered as you curled into him, burying your face against his chest, seeking out his warmth, his solace.
His fingers skimmed along your spine. Grounding you. Bringing you back to him. Back to your Rhett. He was not shocked at your tears. He was used to them, as they fell during most intense scenes.
But now, it felt different. You clung to him more desperately, body melting into his, as if you wished to become one with his flesh. One body, one spirit. And in your hazy state, you did not want to part from him. The thought of doing so was devastating. Unfathomable.Â
âIâm here. I ainât goinâ nowhere.âÂ
Had you pleaded with him to stay? Maybe you had, in your delicate state. Donât leave me. Iâll be good.
Heâd never leave you. And certainly not when you were like this, bottom lip quivering, wide eyes looking up at him as if heâd hung the very sun, moon, and stars in the sky.
He held you close, lips against your forehead, fingers drawing patterns against your skin. You had no idea how long you remained that way. It could have been five minutes. It could have been fifty minutes. All you knew was that when you looked at him, he was gazing down at you with eyes so full of love.
âHey there. Yâalright?â
âUh-huh.â Your tongue felt like lead.Â
He smoothed his knuckles along your cheek. âThat was a lot. I dunno if youâre ready for more,â he admitted, unwilling to push you too far. It was never, ever his goal to push you to the point of safewording.Â
But your eyes suddenly grew wide with alarm, and you gripped his arm. âN-no! Still need to make you feel good.â
âIâm alright,â he assured you. He could take care of it himself, if need be.
But your face crumpled, and you shook your head. âNo, please, I can take it, I wantâŠI needâŠâ You couldnât form the words. All you knew was that you were desperate to be filled by him, and the thought of going to bed empty was more than you could bear in your fragile state.
âHey now,â he spoke, low and slow, as if speaking to a skittish horse. âDonât cry, sweet thing. If you want more, Iâll give it to you. But weâre gonna take it slow, alright?â He kissed your nose.Â
âA-alright.â
This time, he kissed your lips. And then, gently, he guided you until your head was resting against the soft pillows. He made sure to provide constant physical contact, knowing you needed it.
As he laid you out, he looked down at you with sparkling eyes, admiring you, and your willingness to do whatever he asked of you.Â
Eagerly, you parted your legs, pulling at his shoulders, urging him toward you. But his movements were not hurried. âEasy,â he gently warned. His hands glided down your thighs, squeezing lightly.Â
Wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible, he leaned over, haphazardly reaching into the nightstand drawer to retrieve a small bottle of lube. As overstimulated as you were, he had no desire to bring any discomfort into the mix. He would use the whole damn bottle of lubricant if he needed.Â
He warmed it against his palm before he slicked it over his shaft, and you whimpered pathetically as you watched him, yearning for it to be inside you.Â
How were you so desperate? As if you hadnât just experienced two earth shattering orgasms. Yet here you were, near tears, pushing your hips up, seeking him out. Why wouldnât he give it to you? Couldnât he see you were aching for it?Â
You were losing yourself. âPlease. Why wonât youâŠwhy canât I have it?â Still tearful. If you hadnât been in such a delicate headspace, you would have responded much differently to his hesitance. But here and now, you took it as denial. That he didnât want you. That he was going to withhold it from you because he thought you couldnât take it.Â
And the thought of that made you crumble.Â
You heard him, the low rumble of his voice, soothing you. And you felt him. Cock heavy against you. Sliding over you, aided by the extra lubricant. But it was not inside you. You still remained empty. And you simply couldnât stand it.Â
You didnât mean to say it. If youâd been more lucid, if youâd had more decorum about you, you would have been so embarrassed. But it tumbled off your lips so naturally, you didnât register it until it was too late. And even then, you were vaguely aware of what you were saying.Â
âP-please, Daddy. WanââŠwanâ your cock.âÂ
Rhett stilled above you, breath hitching in his throat. You were pawing at his chest, seemingly unaware that youâd even said the word. Youâd never called him that before. Though, admittedly, he was fairly certain heâd heard the beginnings of it times before, when you were in the throes of pleasure. D-daâ sir!
This was not something you had discussed. However, hearing you say it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The name settled into him, and it did not feel foreign. In fact, it felt familiar. Comfortable. A role he was always meant to take on.Â
So he did not balk when you whined it into his mouth, asking so sweetly to be filled by him. He knew reacting would be very jarring for you, and would take you out of the moment. So he simply went with it, trying the name out, testing how it felt rolling off his own tongue.Â
âYeah? Poor baby. Need it so bad. Donât worry, Daddyâs gonna give it to you.â It felt natural. As if heâd spoken his own given name.Â
He continued to use it for the rest of the scene.Â
As he began to inch his hips forward, he kissed you sweetly, humming into your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.Â
And then you could feel the pressure of the blunt head of his cock pressing into you, and you squeaked softly, eyes fluttering shut. Finally. Your fluttering cunt gave no resistance as he inched into you, but the stretch was still there, and it stole the breath from your lungs.
Rhett watched your anatomy accommodate him, never one to grow tired of the sight. âPoor little pussy can barely take me,â he murmured in mock concern.
âY-yes I can. Donât take it away. Please, Daddy.â There it was again. That sacred title.
Oh, you sounded so pitiful, it made his heart clench in his chest. He ducked forward, mouth brushing over yours. âHey now, Iâm not gonna take it away, I promise.â Then his hand was resting against your clavicle. âDeep breath for me.â
You obeyed, taking in a slow breath before releasing it. He was bringing you back to yourself. Back to him. Keeping you from spiraling.
âWhatâs your color, baby?â He asked. During moments like this, he preferred to use a color system, so he could gauge where your headspace was at.
You had to search for the word in your head. It almost felt as if you were sifting through a dream, trying to return to consciousness. You heard yourself reply with, âg-green.â
He smiled, lovingly trailing the pad of his index finger over the slope of your nose. âGood girl.â Then he was kissing you again, tongue delving into your mouth, swallowing your sweet little moan as he continued to nudge his hips forward.Â
It was always the initial stretch that got you. Almost too much, yet somehow just enough. He was always careful. Always calculated. Never intending to hurt you by going too fast before you were ready.
But it was not always easy to hold back. Especially now, when your body was so responsive to him, so ready to take every last inch as deep as you could.
The warm, wet slide of your cunt along the length of his hard cock sent him forward, face buried against the side of your neck, mouthing at the delicate skin over your pulse point.Â
âOh, Daddy.â
Good lord, you would be the death of him if you kept addressing him like that. He hadnât realized just how much heâd like it. Hadnât even thought about it until now. But you said it so sweetly, so reverently, and he knew it was going to stick from here on out.
âThere yâgo,â he spoke lowly as his body became flush with yours, every inch of him seated within you, still, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.
And the way you looked up at him? He swore, heâd die. Wide eyes, furrowed brow, quivering mouth. âI-I did it. I took all of it. Iâm good. Iâm good for you.â
His heart clenched in his chest. âYes you are, sweet thing. So good for Daddy. Mâbest girl.â With the shock of pleasure that was already creeping along the expanse of his spine, he knew he wouldnât last long. Not when you were so sweet and good and perfect for him. A precious gift bestowed upon him from heaven above.
He bent low over you, arms braced against the bed, as he began to move. Drawing back slowly, carefully. Easy there, little gal, easy.Â
As he thrust forward, a sob tore from your throat, but he drank it down eagerly, mouth over yours, swallowing you up. As he built a rhythm, your hands began to wander, eager to feel him, muscles rippling beneath your touch.
Rhett hissed sharply as fingernails scraped down his spine, over his broad shoulders, sure to leave the evidence of your tryst in the form of pink stripes. Markings he would wear proudly once he was finished with you.Â
But your hands soon climbed higher, fingers raking through graying locks. If you hadnât been in such a hazy state, you might have marveled at how it looked like a silver halo around the crown of his head.Â
Instead, you were distracted by the fact that you were close once again, warmth blossoming in your lower abdomen as your cunt pulsed around your husbandâs cock. He moaned deep within his chest, driving forward again, deeper still. Knocking the breath from your very lungs with how full he had you feeling.
âYouâre already close, ainât ya baby?â He spoke, voice strained, barely contained.Â
You nodded, eyes wide and glimmering with tears once again. You looked so innocent beneath him, and he should have been ashamed to admit what that did to him. Instead, he fed into it. âDonât worry. Daddyâll get you there.â
He knew you wouldnât need a lot to get you there. He was quite certain you wouldnât even be able to handle his fingers against your sensitive little pearl, so instead, he opted to grind deeply against you, the course gathering of hair at the base of his dick offering just enough stimulation to send you reeling.
You swore you saw stars, and your eyes rolled back in your head, body shuddering beneath him as if you were electrified.Â
âDaddy, I-Iâm g-gonnaâ!â You couldnât get the words out. They were stolen from your mouth, fizzling out, dissolving into thin air.
Your belly tensed, muscles trembling, perspiration beginning to shimmer across your skin as the beginnings of your third orgasm spread through your body. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his back, nails leaving crescent shapes. You cried out, head thrown back, mouth open, sobbing, begging, pleading.
âThatâs it, darlinâ. Be a good girl and let go for me. Iâm right behind ya.â
It wasnât like the first two crescendos of bliss you had experienced. This one washed over you slowly, sneakily, like a thief in the night, one that you didnât realize was there until it was already upon you. And then you were engulfed in comforting heat. Not fiery flames, but a warm embrace.Â
Rhettâs mouth found your own again, kissing you, swallowing the pitchy sounds drawn out of you by your orgasm. Sweet little whimpers of âDaddy, Daddy, Daddy.â
God, it felt endless. Ebbing through you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Flowing in tandem with your life force. Bringing you to new heights of bliss. âThatâs my good little darlinâ. Cominâ so much for me. Little pussyâs squeezinâ me so tight.â He was mere seconds from meeting his own end, so intense he could feel it vibrating through his jaw.
In the midst of your own frenzy, you could hear yourself begging him. âDaddy, please. Please come inside me.â
And then he was burying his face against your neck, teeth biting into tender flesh, hands grasping your hips tightly in his large palms. He was spiraling, unable to stave off the inevitable as you pulsed around him, milking him for all he had to give, letting him make a mess of your already sticky cunt.Â
A sleepy, delighted smile spread across your face at the feeling of his seed flooding you, claiming you, marking you as his.Â
He braced himself above you as he came down, arms trembling, trying not to rest his full weight against you. Aftershocks sparkled along his spine, pulling shudders from him as he took a moment to catch his breath, mouth hot and open against your collarbone.
As he came back to himself, he lifted his head, his first instinct to check on you, to take care of you. âHey there, sweet thing. Yâstill with me?â Fingers caressing your cheek.
Your eyes were still unfocused. âUh-huh,â you managed.
Slipping right back into that dominant role, he leaned back a bit, fully examining your face. Sweat dampened your forehead, and more tears shone in your eyes. âHey, Iâm here. Iâm right here.â soothing his palm over your forehead.Â
Ever so gently, he eased his softening cock from you, and you whimpered, not wanting to be apart from him. But he pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you, cradling you against his chest.
You clung to him tightly, as if you were afraid heâd float away from you if you didnât hold on. All the while, he talked to you in a steady, even tone. Coaxing you down, as if you were a kite he was guiding out of the sky. Heâd never let you fall to the ground, for his hands would be there to catch you before you did.
âDid so good fâme. Beautiful baby. Did so good for your daddy.â
Daddy. That seemed to draw you back to the present, and your eyes widened as clarity dawned on you. âIâŠIâm sorry. Know we didnât talk about it, but IâŠâ You couldnât get the words out. Could barely form a coherent thought. Yet embarrassment had begun to seep through the cracks, despite the fact that you had nothing to be embarrassed over.
âShh, donât you start spiralinâ on me, honey.â His hand rested at the base of your jaw, keeping your gaze fixed upon him. âYou listen here. If callinâ me daddy is somethinâ you wanna start doinâ, Iâm more than okay with it. Honestly, hearinâ you call me thatâŠit really did somethinâ to me. IfâŠif thatâs what you need me to be for you, then thatâs what Iâll be.â
Relief flooded you. âReally?â
âReally.â He kissed you softly, lovingly. âYouâre my darlinâ, I love you more than words can express, and I want to be everythinâ you need.â
You threw your arms around his neck. âOh, I love you. I love you so much.â
He held you even closer, closing his eyes as he relished in your body against his. âMy perfect girl. Always gonna be whatever you need.â
Looking back, you would feel a little silly for being afraid to give him the title of Daddy. But for now, you were laden with endorphins, an almost dopey smile on your face as you basked in the afterglow, and in the realization that you no longer had to hold back the address. You could utilize the title whenever you wished.
And he would assume that role with ease, wearing it like a well-fitting glove. Natural. Familiar. Right. Just like heâd so easily assumed the role of dominant. And oh, how skilled he was at it.Â
It didnât end after your tryst in the sheets was over. No, it continued as he carefully laid you out against the bed, with whispered promises of cleaning you up, of taking care of you. And as you faded in and out of a blissful, floaty state of mind, he handled your body with tenderness, wiping you clean, fingers massaging taut muscles, rendering you boneless.
He praised you continuously, assuring you that he was proud of you, that you were always so good for him. Beautiful, perfect, angelic.Â
And oh, how grateful he was to have you to look after. Someone he could bestow his tenderness upon. Someone who loved him so wholly and completely. Although he had endured much pain to get to this point, he wouldnât trade it for anything. It had all shaped him into the man he needed to be. The man you needed him to be.
He had a lot of regrets in life, but you were not one of them. He was reminded of that when he witnessed you stand up for him that night, unleashing your contained fury on the woman who had broken him. And he was able to stand there and watch in awe as you did so, his heart no longer in pieces, but tenderly put back together by your gentle hands.Â
And as he tucked you into bed that night, after making sure a clean quilt was in place, he was struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Whoever had decided to bless him with your presence, whether that be God, or the universe, or some other greater being, he was forever indebted to.Â
You often liked to say that heâd saved you, but that wasnât true. In reality, you had saved him. You had given him a purpose. A reason to go on. And he would cherish you for the rest of his life.
âI love you, little darlinâ.âÂ
âLuh you, Rhett,â you sleepily murmured as you curled into him. He smiled, his eyes blurring as a wave of tears washed over him.
He was yours forever. His soul was knit with yours for all eternity. In the next life, and the next, and every life in between, he would always be yours. Your protector. Your provider. Your million dollar man.
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Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)
Word count: 4K
Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake âHangmanâ Seresin finally went home to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his 'pregnant' fiancee to his family was a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. But when the truth came out, he turned to his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.
After getting married and having twins, the Jake and Julie are ready to spend Christmas together and relax.
Epilogue | Master List | Ao3
---------------------------------------
Epilogue II
Car doors slammed and Cece froze, french fry suspended in mid-air. Shoving the food in her mouth, she slid off the counter and crept toward the bay window in the living room, stepping over discarded toys and books. The sight of her husband leaning into the back seat of his truck usually made her happy, but today, she groaned, eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion. âShit,â she breathed, forcing her eyes open and rushing back into the kitchen. Another curse fell from her lips when she stepped on a Barbie hair brush, the plastic bristles embedding in her sock. Hopping on one foot, she dislodged it and tossed the offending toy away.Â
The front door opened, and the usual chaotic sounds of backpacks and jackets hitting the floor rang out. It covered the crinkling of the bag holding her half-eaten lunch and the muffled snap of the walk-in pantry door shutting when she darted inside. Not daring to turn on the light, she moved a few steps inside and collapsed onto the floor. âTake off your shoes!â Jake called.
âMama! We home!âÂ
âMama!â
âMama!â
âMama, where ARE you?â
âYeah, where is Mama?â Jake asked.Â
As the three-year-old twins' voices drew closer, Cece hoped the childproof doorknob cover would continue to confuse them. But, knowing her luck, this would be the day her snack-fiend little ones would accomplish the difficult task of squeezing and twisting. As much as she loved her children, it had been a long day - hell, a long week - at the bakery in the lead-up to Christmas, to the point that she couldn't stop to eat.
So yes, hiding in the pantry from her children wasnât her proudest parenting moment, but damn it, she was hungry and wanted to eat her chicken and fries in relative peace and comfort. Sitting on the floor made her aching feet feel better, though the cold floor was killing her back. It had never quite recovered after her pregnancy - not that a job where she was constantly on her feet made it any better.Â
A chiming noise startled her, and she swiped the fry grease onto her flour-dusted legging before grabbing her phone. Cece groaned at the picture on the screen: her drink with a prominent fast food logo on the cup. Wanna explain, Mrs. Seresin? So close to dinner?
Donât rat me out, and Iâll give you a chicken tender
Deal
Cece bit her lip to keep from laughing at the speed of his reply. From the other side of the door, she heard a clap. âI wonder if Mamaâs taking a nap?â
âYeah!â Liam said.
âNaps are for babies,â Abby huffed.
âNaps are for tired parents and growing kiddos,â he countered. âNow, we have to be very quiet in case she is sleeping, alright?â
âShhhh,â Liam shushed loudly.
âRight. Now, where would Mama take a nap? The bathtub?âÂ
âNo!â the twins giggled.Â
âReally? Mama took naps in the bathtub when we were in college. Wanna go check?â The sound of running was the only response, followed by a cautious, âBe careful - and donât wake Mama up!â
The pantry opened quickly, allowing her the briefest glimpse of a silhouette before shutting. The sound of callouses on the wall was her only warning before the overhead light turned on. Clapping a hand to her eyes, Cece heard a deep chuckle and peeked through her fingers to see a sight for sore eyes: Jake crouching in front of her, his green eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter. When her hand dropped, he lifted her cup to his mouth, sipping from the straw. âI only slept in the bathtub once.âÂ
The unexpected words made him choke on the soda, and he cleared his throat before setting the cup beside her. âYour 21st was pretty memorable, from what I heard,â he agreed. Carefully lowering his bad knee to the floor, he planted a hand beside her hip and curved the other around her cheek.Â
Jake still smiled every time he kissed her.Â
Ceceâs eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes dusting the tops of her cheeks. The tension drained from her body when their noses brushed. His forehead pressed against hers, and her hand curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the short hairs. âHey, Cupcake.â Â
âHi,â she breathed.Â
âAnother long day?â Sighing, she nodded, trying - and failing - to open her eyes. âAlmost over, at least.â
âThank god. Remind me to hire more staff next year.â
âWill you listen to me next time or tell me the same thing you did this year?â The thinly veiled âtold you soâ was motivation enough to open one eye and half-heartedly glare. Jakeâs whispered suggestion that she bring on holiday staff had been dismissed whenever he brought it up. Even though the coffee shop/bakery was doing well, increasing payroll - even temporarily - still felt risky when she could handle the work with her usual crew. But the volume of sales and orders kept increasing, and sheâd returned to work multiple times after putting the twins to bed to prep for the following day.Â
Chuckling, he leaned forward to kiss her again. âYouâre a meanie-head,â she muttered, using their sonâs favorite insult. He laughed against her mouth, pulling away to run his thumb lightly over the dark circles under her eyes.Â
âWell, this âmeanie-headâ misses you. You have to go back - â
âDaddy!â
âWhere he go?â
Small hands slapped the pantry door, and they both bit back a groan. âMaybe if weâre really quiet, theyâll go away,â Cece whispered. That hope quickly went out the window when the pounding continued, joined by the spinning of the child lock on the knob and a thud.
âHey!â Jake snapped. âYou better not be kicking my doors.â The pounding stopped immediately. âGo sit on the couch. Daddyâll be there in a minute.â The twins loudly made their way out of the kitchen as Cece smothered her laughter at their childish grumbling, resting her head on his shoulder. âThey get that from you,â he huffed.
âExcuse me! Youâre the one who punches trees.â
âNot for years.âÂ
âThank god. We know how it ended the last time you did.â
âPretty sure it ended with you kissing me.â Wrapping her fingers in the collar of his flight suit, she kissed him again.Â
âWho would have thought weâd be hiding in the pantry six years later?âÂ
âWho woulda thought,â he agreed. âNow, I think you owe me a chicken tender, Mrs. Seresin.â Groaning, her head tipped back, and she smiled when Jakeâs mouth gravitated to the hinge of her jaw.
âAny chance youâd be willing to exchange a tender for something else, Lieutenant Commander Seresin?â
âWhatâd you have in mind?â
âGift wrapping tonight, then maybeâŠâ her fingers skated down his front, toying with the zipper tab.Â
âBedtime canât come soon enough,â he murmured before crushing his lips to hers. She didnât notice his hand sneaking into the bag at her hip until he pulled away and clamped a fry between his teeth. Reaching behind her, he grabbed two juice boxes from the shelf and pushed to his feet. âEnjoy your contraband. Iâll keep them distracted for a bit.â
With a wink, he walked out of the pantry. Greeted by the squeals of the kids, he quickly closed the door, hiding her from view.
A loud moan burst from her mouth, and Cece turned to stifle it in her arm. Jake chuckled from where he knelt between her thighs, hands closing around her waist when she pushed back against him. âFeel good, baby?â A whimper and nod were her response, and he grinned, planting a fist in the mattress by her shoulder and brushing aside her shower-dampened hair to kiss the back of her neck. Cracking one eye open, she smiled sleepily at him.
âHarder.âÂ
âI feel like Iâm gonna break your back if I go harder,â he said, shifting back onto his knees and resting his hands on the swell of his wifeâs ass.
âYou wonât,â she assured him, wiggling slightly to invite him to return his hands to where she wanted them. After a moment, she felt his thumbs digging into her lower back and moaned again. Pregnancy had destroyed her back, and - contrary to what the doctors said - it wasnât getting better on its own. After spending a small fortune on massages, Jake started watching videos online and offered to do them.Â
âItâs the least I can do,â heâd teased before the first one, his touch light and unsure. âEspecially after you did all the work to have them both look like me.âÂ
Cece hoped the massages wouldnât stop after her MRI in January.Â
Goosebumps erupted on her skin when his fingers grazed the curve of her breast as his hands moved higher, thumbs running parallel to her spine. The bed dipped as he moved to her side, and Cece lifted her head to rest on her folded arms. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched him work; his brows furrowed with concentration as he soothed her aching muscles. As much as she loved the attention from her husband, it was bittersweet. She knew he felt some misplaced sense of guilt over her body not bouncing back after delivering the twins, and he was well aware of her reluctance to discuss having any more kids until they figured out what was wrong. Living off of over-the-counter painkillers and dealing with tingling in her arms and fingers wasnât fun, and he hated thinking about the night her pain had flared up so badly that heâd had to carry her into the emergency room while Phoenix and Rooster sat with the twins.Â
Cece hated that it sometimes felt like she was edging closer to eighty than in her thirties and that she couldnât play with her kids as much as she wanted to without feeling it the next day. But not a single part of her would have changed it if it meant being without Abigail and Liam. She loved talking to them about their day at âschoolâ - the daycare on base that they were fortunate enough to get spots in - and everything they learned that day. Kneeling by the tub and watching the epic stories they created with their toys. The weight of them crawling into their bed after waking up in the middle of the night, fingers tangling in her hair, and the odd elbow, knee, or foot nudging her, echoing their movements when sheâd carried them.
But most of all, Cece loved seeing Jake as a father. Having witnessed the Seresin men parent for years, it shouldnât have been surprising that he took to it like a duck to water. He had been there for every midnight feeding, helping to juggle the babies on the nursing pillow and cooing as they burped or spit up. There was no judgment when she couldnât hold them when it came time for shots, and she fell in love with him just a little more when she saw the tears gleaming in Jakeâs eyes as their children wailed after every injection. The way he sought her out after having to mete out punishment, curling up in her lap and regretting making their little lips wobble and tears spill down their cheeks as he dissected every word made her want to laugh and cry and hold him.Â
âWillâs the same way with the boys,â Ally had once told her. âHe hates punishing them and thinks theyâll hate him forever, no matter how many times I tell him theyâll forget about the time out or getting sent to bed without dessert. He thinks heâs traumatizing them.âÂ
And Abigail⊠she was a force to be reckoned with. Older by fourteen minutes, she was well aware of her status as the firstborn and had inherited generations of Seresin bull-headedness. When Cece had remarked on this to her mother-in-law, Mama Seresin had only laughed. âYour mama and daddy come from a long line of stubborn folks, too, Julie. My granddaughter comes by it honest from her grandparents AND her parents.âÂ
Liam, though⊠Liam was her sweet boy, who loved to cuddle with her. A true mamaâs boy, he broke his daddyâs heart every time he pushed out of his arms and reached for her. On nights she worked late, Cece would inevitably get a call from her son, tears on his face as he begged her to come home. It bothered Jake how quickly the switch would flip - if she wasnât home, Liam was fine. But when it came time for bed, or she was in sight, Liam wanted nothing to do with his father. Will had assured him that it was expected - Tyler had gone through the same thing, and Kevin was in the same stage - but it was cold comfort.Â
âKeep goinâ, and Iâm gonna fall asleep,â Cece yawned. Jake chuckled, pulling away when she rolled onto her side. Lifting a heavy arm, she slung it over his shoulders and tugged him down. His lips were soft as he settled between her thighs, and she pushed down his shorts. Jakeâs cock sprung free, and she took him in hand. He grunted, smirking against her mouth.
âDefinitely worth a chicken tender.â That startled a laugh out of her, which choked off when he thrust into her. âMiss you, baby.â
âHoliday rush is almost over,â she panted as he rocked against her.Â
Afterward, she snuck into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and glasses while Jake grabbed the wrapping paper and gifts. And, as they wrapped presents, they caught up on each otherâs day and traded kisses. Tipsy and tired, she giggled while pulling off her shirt and pressing two bows to her nipples, posing when her husband grabbed his phone and snapped a picture.
Thankfully, everything was hidden away when little hands opened the bedroom door. Jake lifted the twins into bed when Abby poked him awake, forfeiting his time to spoon with his wife. Instead, he cuddled his daughter to his chest as Liam starfished over his mother, his towhead tucked under her chin and fingers tangling in her shirt.
âSqueeze gently,â Cece cautioned, then bit her lip when a glob of green frosting burst out of the piping bag.Â
âBeautiful,â Jake snickered. Liam beamed at his dad before setting aside the bag and rearranging the frosting with his finger.
âDefinitely a cookie for Santa,â she said, watching Jakeâs smile drop just a fraction. He was responsible for eating Santaâs cookies. Eating anything sweet after taste-testing her products for weeks turned Ceceâs stomach.Â
âDaddy, look!â Abby said before dumping almost an entire container of sprinkles onto her cookie. Thankfully, the paper plate caught most of them, but the rest rained down on the table, bouncing and hitting the floor.Â
âLooks like another Santa cookie!â Shooting his wife a look, Jake started to sweep up the sprinkles from the table while Cece grabbed the broom. Having the kids decorate cookies on Christmas Eve was always more fun in theory than practice.Â
After dictating letters to Santa and a spectacular sea battle in the bathtub that left all the Seresins soaked, it was bedtime. The twins shared a room, and Liam pulled Cece into his bed while Abby and Jake grabbed three books. The twin bed was a tight squeeze for the four of them, and Jake had to keep a foot on the floor to keep from falling out.Â
The twins were asleep by the end of the Polar Express, and he moved Abby to her bed while Cece carefully extracted herself from Liamâs grasp. Together, they tiptoed out of the room, splitting off at the kitchen. âWhat time do you want to put the stuff out?â Jake asked, walking into the living room and offering her a glass of water. Lying on his stomach with his head resting on her chest, he tucked his head under her chin, shivering with pleasure when Ceceâs fingers carded in his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. One arm dangled from the side of the couch while the other loosely wrapped around her, eyes drifting closed. Â
âMaybe an hour? That way, theyâre really asleep and before they come into our room.â
âYou think weâll ever get our bed back to ourselves?â
âNot for a few years,â she smirked. Â
He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. ââM gonna miss this when I deploy.â
âMe too.â The notice had hit his inbox a few weeks ago, and heâd told her as soon as the kids were in bed. While heâd gone on a few short missions since their birth, this would be the first time he would be gone for an extended period. âItâs only three months.â
âA long three months.â
âItâs what? A couple weeks longer than a semester?â She asked, lifting a shoulder. âWeâve done longer than that.â
âWhat if the kids forget about me?â His eyes shot open when Cece flicked the tip of his nose.Â
âPlease. They wonât forget about you because youâre away for a few months.â Catching her hand, he ran his thumb along her wedding band as her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck.Â
âThey might.â
âNot gonna happen.âÂ
âTheyâre little, and their memories arenât that good.â
âThree months isnât enough time to erase three years. Your kids arenât going to forget you.âÂ
âAre you gonna be okay?â That made her pause for a heartbeat.
âIâll miss you.â
âYouâre gonna be outnumbered.â
âItâll be easier than when they were both in diapers.â
âIâm thinking of dropping my papers.â Ceceâs movements froze as she blinked down at the crown of his head, eyebrows nearly reaching her hair. âI just⊠I donât want to lose my family to the Navy. Not again.â
Shaking off his hold, her palm rasped on his stubble as she encouraged him to meet her soft gaze. Worry creased his brow, the Christmas tree lights twinkling in his solemn green eyes. âYou wonât, Farm Boy. I promise you - Abby, Liam, and I will be here waiting for you to come home.âÂ
âI worry - â
âI know you do,â she cut him off. âAnd I love you for it. But weâll be okay. Letâs⊠letâs talk about dropping your papers in the New Year if youâre really thinking about it.â
âI am.â
âAlright. I justâŠâ her teeth dug into her lower lip momentarily before clearing her throat. âI donât want you makinâ a hasty decision after all of the work you put in without giving us a chance to prove that we can do it.â When he opened his mouth to reply, Cece placed her finger over his lips. âThe New Year.â
Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he pushed onto his hands and kissed her, licking into her mouth. Time seemed to slow as they made out on the couch like teenagers, the couch feeling just slightly larger than his truck cab in high school.Â
And, after putting the presents under the tree and stuffing the stockings, Jake flipped the lock on their bedroom door after pressing his wife against it, fingers delving into her panties to find her wet.Â
Not even an hour later, small hands hitting wood woke them, accompanied by sleepy cries for Mama. Pausing only long enough to pull on his boxers and toss Cece her clothes, he crossed the room and unlocked the door. The twins stumbled in, Abby raising her arms for him to lift her while Liam rubbed his eyes and ambled toward his motherâs outstretched arms. âCâmere baby,â Cece cooed.Â
âMerry Christmas!â
âMerry Christmas!â the kids screeched as the call connected, and they caught sight of their grandparents. Nursing her second cup of coffee and nibbling on another orange cranberry scone, Cece smiled at her in-laws. After saying their hellos, the grandparents focused on their grandchildren, making appreciative noises at everything they tried to share while talking over one another.Â
Setting aside his second plate of French toast casserole, Jake acted as a cameraman as Liam showed off his new dinosaurs and Hot Wheels, and Abby her baby dolls and dress-up clothes.
Thankfully, the only knitted baby blanket this year had been addressed to Abby for her toys. Â
Will and Ally were at the main house, and Jake and Cece caught sight of them as the phone was passed around. Ty and Kev took their turn showing off their presents, and the four cousins talked over one another.Â
But then Bill took the phone and cleared his throat. âYour Granny and I got you kids a present. I need you to put on your boots and jacket so we can go see it.â
âWhatâd you get, Pops?â Jake asked, shooting a look at his wife.
âJust something for them to enjoy whenever yâall come out. Keep âem distracted while we paint the house.â The bi-annual house painting was scheduled for the summer, not too long after Jake was to get home from the deployment. Theyâd already decided to take time off and drive home on a road trip, partly to allow themselves to explore and partly to save on the expense of flying the four out and renting a car.
Once the family was bundled up and the twins settled in their parents' laps, Bill led them outside to the barn. Jake bit his tongue, having a pretty good idea of the gift. The camera shook as Bill told his grandsons to stay back before passing it off to Mama Seresin.
And there, standing in the last stall with its head peeking out, was a spotted Appaloosa. She stuck out on a farm that mainly bred Quarterhorses and American Paints. âHorsie!â Abby squealed, bouncing in Jakeâs lap as he ran a hand down his face.Â
âPops.â
âYou got them a horse?â Will huffed.Â
âSheâs beautiful!â Ally sighed.Â
âBroken for riding already,â Bill said proudly, striding closer and petting her forelock. âHer last owners said she loved kids and taught theirs how to ride.â Ty and Kevin got closer, each holding one of Willâs hands.
âHow big is she?â Cece asked.
âJust under 15 hands,â Mama Seresin answered. âAnd sweet as can be. Donât worry, Julie - the twins will be in good hands with her.â
And they were. When summer came, the Seresin grandchildren took turns riding Nutmeg. Abby and Liam were only slightly behind their cousins in riding lessons and would have stayed in the barn all day if allowed.Â
So when Jake saddled up two horses, handing Abby up to Cece, and settled his son in front of him, the twins held tight to the saddle horns and grinned excitedly. After months of physical therapy, Cece was feeling better than ever with her back pain - multiple bulging disks right where her uterus had pulled on her spine - finally being addressed. âReady?â he asked, looking back at his wife, who nodded and adjusted Abbyâs little cowgirl hat on her head. The ride across the ranch was slower; both parents worried about kids bouncing out of saddles, but it was still enjoyable. Liam, who had clung to Jake after he got home, asked a million questions as they rode.Â
Under his favorite tree on the property, Cece laid out a picnic sheâd packed while Jake tumbled in the high grass with the kids. When called to eat, he sat beside his wife and listened to her story about running into Betty Roberts in the grocery store. He was positive that there was some new story about them running through Magnolia. There were plans to have dinner with Lucy and her family and to stop by the firehouse to introduce the kids to some of Brianâs friends.Â
And, of course, they needed to visit her parents.
On their last night in Magnolia, they sat on the front porch swing, watching the twins chase fireflies with their cousins. With his eyes drooping closed and his wifeâs head resting on his shoulder, he sighed contentedly.
âHmm?â Cece hummed.Â
âNothinâ,â Jake replied. âJust thinkinâ about how happy I am to be home.âÂ
---------------------------------------
Author's Note: I couldn't *not* revisit Jake and Julie at Christmas. I credit @tgmreader for encouraging me to continue writing these two. I had fun going back through the fic and pulling out reminders of my favorite scenes (such as Jake being comforted by Cece on the couch, and having Liam sleep the same way).
I definitely pulled the back pain part from my friend's experience with it after having her twins.
Happy (belated) Christmas to those who celebrate!
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Summary: Everything starts to get very real once you're able to feel the baby move. It's time to share the news of your second pregnancy with family and friends, but it's hard to feel elated when Bradley starts showing attention to one of his pilots after work hours.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
If you weren't pregnant and exhausted, Bradley would have been concerned by how quiet you were. You seemed to need a nap as soon as you got home from work, and then you wanted to go to bed right after Rose went down in her crib each evening. When he got home quite late on Friday after working on some transfer paperwork for several hours, he was surprised to find that you seemed a little more upbeat than usual.
"Hey, Roo."
You were wearing a pair of his gym shorts while you made dinner. The house smelled delicious, and his stomach started growling as soon as he walked inside. He picked Rose up from her playmat, taking her into the kitchen as he smothered her in kisses before transferring them to you.
"You feeling okay? How's Nugget Part Deux?"
"We're exhausted. Rose is the only one with energy right now."
He supposed that was better than you telling him you couldn't stop throwing up. So far, baby number two seemed to be giving you less grief when it came to eating. "We can nap all weekend," he promised. "How was your day?"
"Pretty good," you told him with a shrug. "How was your day?"
He glanced out the back door at the enormous jungle gym, eyeing it up as an option for him and Rose to play after dinner. "Just busy. Everyone keeps me on my toes all day long. These pilots are really talented."
You seemed to wrinkle your nose at his words, staring at the food cooking on the stove as you muttered, "I'll bet they are."
Rose seemed keen on the idea of the backyard, so he kissed her soft cheek. "Yeah, I can barely keep up with them in the air, but don't tell them that. I've got my head on a swivel the whole time. Indigo and Rex nearly took me out today, and I had to go into a dive. And starting on Monday, I'm going to give myself some extra office hours to stay on top of my paperwork."
Instead of responding about his day, you started to dish out the food onto two plates with your back turned to him. "After we eat, I need to call my parents before it's too late. They're putting their house on the market next week, and I think I'm just going to tell them I'm pregnant and get it over with. I've put it off long enough."
Bradley's brow creased. "They'll be excited though. Right? I mean, maybe not as excited as me, but still excited."
You shrugged again, and he thought he might lose his mind if you kept doing it. "Aren't you at least a little worried there could be some sort of complications from having them so close together?"
A sardonic laugh almost burst from his lips. "Baby Girl, I worry about you and Rosie and the new baby constantly. Okay? Nonstop. But we can't go back now. You're already almost in the second trimester. Hey," he said, swallowing hard as you finally turned and looked at him. He held Rose just a little tighter as he whispered, "We're married. We're happy, right? You're not actually thinking about ending your pregnancy, are you?"
"No," you replied quickly, shaking your head. Bradley desperately wanted to know if there was some way he could make this easier for you, because he didn't want you to resent what was happening. But you just started crying as you shrugged again. "I just feel like our timing is terrible. And I know I have to start telling people, because I'm already showing a little bit, but I'm just so frustrated, Bradley."
He never dreamed the two of you would go from trying for months to get pregnant with Rose to being frustrated about a second pregnancy, but here you were. "I realize you've got to do most of the work right now, but when I tell you that I want another baby and that I'm excited about this, I mean it."
"I know!" you whispered quickly. "I know." You swiped at your tears before wrapping your arms around him and Rose.
"Is something else bothering you?" he murmured when your cheek came to rest on his bicep. He couldn't imagine what else could be the matter, but he needed to make sure.Â
You were silent for a few beats before whispering, "I'm fine. Let's facetime my parents."
For how excited your mom was to move to California, she didn't seem to notice that your eyes looked like you'd been crying. She kept talking about selling their furniture and packing everything up. She mentioned how much she wanted to see Rose in person as she fussed over her on the video call. Just as she was starting to discuss their new house in Coronado that would make them his neighbors, Bradley heard you blurt out, "I'm pregnant."
Your parents both looked stunned on the other end of the call. "You're pregnant," your mom said, eyes drifting back to Rose in Bradley's arms. "Already?"
Now both parents were staring at Bradley as he said, "Yeah... due in April."
"April Fool's Day," you said softly.
Your parents broke out into twin grins. "I'm assuming this was a surprise to the two of you?" your dad asked. When you nodded silently, he added, "A happy surprise at least! Congratulations. You're about to have your hands very full."
"It's a good thing we're moving!" your mom practically shrieked. "Two under two! Two babies! What if you have twins?"
"We're not," Bradley replied. Then he froze. "It's not twins. Right, Sweetheart?" Now he was a little scared as you turned to look at him and laugh.
"There was just one heartbeat, Roo. Just one."
His shoulders sagged in relief. "I mean, the more the merrier, but that would be a lot."
He let Rose nap against his chest while he rubbed circles against your lower back, and soon enough, your parents were ending the call with the promise that they would be in Coronado for Christmas. "We'll either be living there by then or we'll fly out for the holiday if our house here hasn't sold yet."
Everything sounded good to Bradley, and five minutes after the call ended, you fell asleep on him, too.
----------------------------
When you fell asleep on Cam's shoulder at brunch on Sunday, you figured it was time to tell him and Maria what was going on.
"I'm pregnant. Again."
Maria jumped out of her seat to cram into the opposite of the booth, sandwiching you between her and Cam. "Damn, girl! You've wasted no time!"
"Lieutenant Commander Mustache is working with some high fucking quality goods, huh?" Cam marveled, shaking his head slowly in reverence. "Congratulations."
"Thanks," you whispered, voice harsh and near tears. You had no control over your emotions. This was just like when you were pregnant with Rose, but with less vomiting and more fatigue. Everything made you upset enough that you wanted to cry or angry enough that you wanted to kick down a door. Including your husband.
You answered Cam and Maria's questions as you thought about that woman you'd seen around base with Bradley a few times. They were never alone, always part of a larger group, but you didn't like how she looked at him. And you didn't want to mention it to him, because you knew how ridiculous it was going to sound.
"Hey, I'm really tired," you eventually told your friends. "Do this again in two weeks?" You wanted to go home and nap while Bradley still had Rose out for a walk along the beach. You just wanted to be alone.
"Of course," Maria promised. "I'll text Bob to come pick me up, but you two can go on ahead."
"I'll wait with you," Cam told her, giving you a kiss on the cheek.
You made your way out and went home, leaning against the front door in relief when you found the house completely empty. Even Tramp and his yellow leash were gone. You ran to bed, curled up under the covers, and cradled your hand against your belly. It was impossible to tell if you had a baby bump, or if you were still chubby from last time.Â
Your thumb ran along the top of your leggings as you started to cry. You needed to pull yourself together. Did you cry this much with Rose? Did everything make you feel like you looked disgusting? Eventually you dozed for about an hour before the sound of the front door closing jolted you awake. Rose started screaming, probably hungry after being out for so long. You rolled out of bed, avoiding your reflection in the mirror at all costs, and went to meet them in the kitchen.
Bradley was trying to bounce Rose to keep her quiet, but you yanked your shirt off and reached for her. "Sorry," he muttered as your daughter latched on to eat as soon as she was touching you. "I tried."
"It's okay."Â
You fed one baby while you considered that her younger sibling was growing inside you, and for once, you couldn't figure out if you wanted to laugh or cry.Â
While she ate, Bradley looked at his phone and groaned. "Nat wants us to go to the Hard Deck tonight."
The idea of going out and pretending that you were drinking alcohol was too much to handle. Even if you could find someone to watch Rose, it didn't sound like a fun time.
"You go," you told him.
He glanced up and said, "I don't want to go without you."
A smile graced your lips as you told him, "Just go for one drink with your best friend. I'll drop you off and pick you up. You can tell her I'm pregnant if you want to."
"Really?" he asked, perking up like Tramp did when presented with a treat.
"Yeah. I told Maria and Cam earlier. I actually fell asleep on his shoulder in the booth, and when I woke up, they were both gaping at me. I figured I needed to say something."
Bradley snorted. "What did they have to say about Bradshaw Baby number two?"
"Cam is under the impression that you are working with some high quality equipment."
He burst into laughter. "I mean..."
You rolled your eyes as Rose switched to your other side. It was easy to feel better about things when it was just the three of you at home. You looked at your husband as he ate an apple in four bites and convinced yourself he would never do anything to hurt you. Then he drank half a beer and belched while he adjusted his junk, and you thought perhaps nobody else would want to deal with him anyway.
"I'll text Nat back. Then I'll pull the weeds around the playset while I decide what I'm doing about the bar."
You let Rose take a nap, but now that you'd also had one, you felt a little restless. Even after you did a few chores, including looking at items for a second baby nursery online, you wanted to get out of the house again. When Bradley came inside, stripping his sweaty shirt over his head, he said, "One drink. Don't leave me there too long, okay?"
"Is Jake going, too? Maybe I'll see if Cat and Jer are home and want visitors."
"That's a great idea," he replied, taking your hand when he walked past. When he gave you a little tug, you didn't move. "You coming?" he asked, clearly puzzled.Â
"Where?"
"What do you mean where?" he scoffed, tugging again. "To take a shower with me while Rose naps. Where else?"
It was hard to think about anything when your husband was on his knees in front of you, steamy water swirling around his tattooed bicep while his hands pinned you to the tile wall. But it was especially hard to focus on anything other than the feel of his mouth on your body. The scrape of his mustache. The pull of his lips. Soft and demanding and needy.
"Roo," you gasped, lungs full of the humid air, sucking in deep breaths as he looked up at you.
"God, Baby Girl," he rasped, thumb teasing your dainty rooster tattoo. "I'm so spoiled. Your tits look so pretty, and your belly will be big again soon."
You let your fingers drag through his wet curls, pushing them back from his forehead while he kissed the spot where you felt so tender as the baby grew.
"Roo!" you gasped, your hands both flying to your belly. "The baby! I can feel the baby moving!"
"Shit, really?"
His eyes were wide, alert with anticipation as you moved his palm to the spot where you could feel squirming. He eased himself closer on his knees, the shower hitting both of you with warm spray while he let you guide him. You felt it again, just another squirm as you pressed his palm harder to your belly.
"Right there," you whispered, and he closed his eyes. Your heart beat in your ears, an undeniably excited rhythm.
"I can't wait to feel it, too," he murmured, his cheek coming to rest against his hand. "You couldn't feel Rose this early."
"No," you agreed, watching your husband fall even more in love with the unborn baby. "Maybe another week or two and they'll be big enough for you to feel it." You played with his hair, letting him stay put until the water started to get cold.
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"I'll pick you up in a little while," you informed Bradley when you pulled into the parking lot at the Hard Deck. "Jake is already here, so I'll take Rose to hang out with Cat and Jer for a bit."
"Sounds good." He kissed you before unbuckling and leaning into the backseat to kiss his daughter. He was still shocked and in a mild daze over the baby moving during the shower. He wanted to feel those kicks against his palm, and now he'd be all over you in the upcoming weeks, looking for his chance.Â
"Have fun," you called before pulling away in your Bronco, but going to the bar to hang out without you was not his idea of a great night. He decided he'd just wait and see how the evening progressed before making a decision about telling Nat about the pregnancy. He smiled as he wondered how long it would be until you had to start wearing the maternity tent to work again.
"There you are!" shouted Nat when he walked past the bar, waving to Penny. "We're about to play pairs. You're with Hangman. Rack 'em, Rooster."
Bradley sighed and took the pool cue as she thrust it into his hand. "Can't I get a beer first?"
She turned and shouted, "Hey, Coyote! Get Rooster one!"
Javy saluted him from the bar as Bradley nodded and settled in to start the game. He and Jake wouldn't even have to try too hard to beat Nat and Reuben, but as he got into the groove of things, he realized he was having a pretty good time.
"You want another?" Jake asked him, and soon one beer turned into three. Bradley ended up buying the fourth round for his friends when Mickey arrived. He had enough in his system to not give a shit when Jake started ribbing on him for his new position at work.
"The way your students all jump to attention when they see you has got to be the funniest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life," he drawled, and Bradley nudged his foot, making him miss his shot.
"I'm still in shock that Cat agreed to marry you," Bradley replied before taking a sip of beer.
Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised Angel let you get her pregnant. Shocked the baby didn't come out with a mustache."
Nat was cackling while Bradley snorted. "She's pregnant again." The words slipped out, but they felt too fucking good on his tongue, just like your body had in the shower.
"What?!"
He was instantly surrounded by his friends while Nat wrapped him up in a hug. "Are you serious? Another one so soon?" she asked with a suspicious looking smirk.
"Yeah," he replied, letting her squeeze him until he thought she might displace a rib. "Apparently I'm working with some high quality equipment."
"Ew!" Nat shrieked, letting go of him while Jake shook his hand.Â
"Poor Angel," he drawled. "She'll have another little Bradshaw on the loose soon."
"Whiskey shots on me," Reuben said, slapping Bradley hard on the back.
"Thanks, man," he replied while conversation about the baby settled to a normal volume. He drank his shot of whiskey, and that's when he realized he was actually kind of drunk.
The game of pool wore on, but nobody seemed to be keeping track of who won. So he kept going until his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket.
Baby Girl Bradshaw: I'm almost there. Rose fell asleep.
"I have to run," Bradley announced, dropping his cue into Jake's hand.Â
"You're so fucking whipped," Jake drawled. "Get out of here and knock your wife up again.... oh, wait."
Bradley gave him and everyone else double middle fingers behind his back as he walked toward the exit. He was tired and warm and buzzed, and he wanted to curl up next to you in bed and kiss the back of your neck. And maybe you'd let him look at your gorgeous tits. Maybe if he was really good, you'd let him taste you. The evening air hit his body, igniting so much need in him.
"Oh, sorry," he grunted, nearly plowing over someone in his rush to get to the parking lot.
"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," came a now familiar voice. Blue eyes flashed up at him along with a smile that kept growing.
Indigo was dressed in street clothes, but he tried not to take notice as he nodded. "I knew you'd find The Hard Deck without my help."
She laughed, bright and clear as he tried to step past her. "Don't tell me you're leaving for the night."
A little pout found her lips, and Bradley nodded. "Yeah. It's getting late for a Sunday."
"Come on," she whined, the back of her hand brushing his as he made his way around her. "Let me buy you one drink."
His mind was still gooey with thoughts of taking you to bed as he shook his head. "Thanks, but I really need to go. Enjoy your night."
Then Nat burst through the door, movements slowing when she met his eyes. "You left your phone on the pool table." She tossed it to him, coordination pretty good for how much she'd had to drink. She started backing up toward the door as she said, "You better go home with your pregnant wife!"
Bradley smiled at his friend, but he could feel Indigo's eyes on him as he stepped off the deck toward the parking lot. And there you were, standing in the first aisle with your back against the red Bronco. Your lips were set in a firm line, and Bradley was about to make it his personal mission to kiss away that expression.
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That younger woman was here with him. You'd seen her around base plenty of times lately, but now she was here. At the Hard Deck. At your favorite bar in your neighborhood. She was with your husband at the bar. They were already standing there together when you drove up and parked.
"Who is that woman?" you snapped at Bradley who was clearly drunk. His hands were all over your waist and hips as soon as he reached you.
"Hey, Sweetheart." His voice was deep and sexy, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into him, but she was still staring you down.
"Who. Is. She?" you hissed, your eyes starting to burn with unshed tears as you stared back. Bradley was kissing your neck now as the woman finally turned and went inside the bar. You already knew who she was. You were sure of it. You'd heard him use her call sign countless times, but you wanted him to say it now. "Bradley!"
"Huh?" he grunted, meeting your eyes.
"Who is that woman you were just with?"
"Natasha?" he asked, and you wanted to scream.
"The other woman, Bradley."
"Oh. That's Indigo."
Your heart sank as soon as he confirmed it for you, but he didn't seem to notice or care that you suddenly felt like your skin was on fire. That woman who was still so fresh out of flight school was already a top pilot, and she was beautiful, and she wanted your husband.
"Baby Girl," he moaned next to your ear. "Let's go home. Maybe we can get in bed and snuggle while I try to feel the baby move? Or you could let me finish what we started in the shower? I'm already so wound up."
You opened the passenger side door for him, slamming it shut as soon as he was inside. You glared at the entrance to the Hard Deck before heading around the Bronco to drive him home.
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Either way, it still looks bad, Bradley. We are riding along with all of BG's emotions, and it's a lot to handle. Thanks for reading. More coming soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls