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The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious. 

So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated. 

Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support. 

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm. 

"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."

When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."

You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just. 

The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.

You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again. 

"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."

"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene. 

And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted. 

When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.

"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."

You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you. 

"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"

"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."

"And how do you know him?"

You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.

"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning. 

"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant." 

"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"

But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad. 

"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"

You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.

"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"

"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."

"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked. 

"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight. 

"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"

The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."

You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat. 

"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down. 

Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"

"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."

Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No. Never." 

"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now. 

Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"

"Yes," you replied with conviction. 

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"

You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.

"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked. 

"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."

"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer. 

"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.

So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."

"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer. 

Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"

She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."

"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again. 

"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.

You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going. 

"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."

Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.

---------------------------

Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.

When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."

The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"

Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair. 

"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well. 

He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had. 

He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers. 

"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her. 

"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."

"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare. 

He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.

When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah. 

"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.

"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing." 

So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room. 

Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."

Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown. 

"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."

Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah. 

And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses. 

"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled. 

"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."

"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."

"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.

"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"

As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."

------------------------

You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them. 

"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.

"Yeah! And ants on logs!" 

You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third. 

He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his. 

"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor. 

As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."

Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space. 

Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.

"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."

So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.

And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.

Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."

He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."

The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table. 

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Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

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YESSSSS GET YOUR SHIT FUCKING ROCKED BRAIN YOU PIECE OF FILTH

Adult Education Part 14 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake does his best to be reassuring toward Jessica, because the truth doesn't change anything for him. His feelings are strong and getting stronger, but then he does something that could have some serious repercussions, whether it was warranted or not.

Warnings: Fluff, oral sex, angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, blood, punching, 18+

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica couldn't take much more of this. She was so tired of always being on edge and having to deal with Brian's bullshit. The only time she felt truly calm was when she was with Jake. Just like this. He had his arms wrapped around her, and she was laying on his chest. She felt like she could just be herself around him without worrying what he thought about her. Then he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

She did want to talk about it, but she was also afraid he would think less of her. But she just didn't see how she could continue on with Jake unless he knew. She was falling in love with him a little more every day, and there was no way she could ever accept those kinds of feelings in return without him knowing the facts. She carefully shrugged and whispered, "There's not a lot to say. Brian is trying to ruin my career."

Jake held her tighter and kissed along her hair. "Why, Baby? How is that possible?"

Jessica's body involuntarily tensed up in his arms before she took a few shaky breaths and eased her cheek away from his chest. She felt tears in her eyes again as she looked at Jake and whispered, "He and I were dating. And then we were sleeping together. For weeks. And I had no idea that he's married and has two kids."

"Oh," Jake gasped, his pretty green eyes wide as he looked at her, and the feelings of shame and embarrassment intermingled, making her feel sick to her stomach.

When Jake didn't say anything else, Jessica wiped at the tears behind her glasses and pulled herself free from his grasp. He was just staring at her. She always knew it would be hard to tell him what happened, but she expected him to say something. "I ended it when I found out," she managed as her throat grew tighter. "I understand if this changes things between us." Her voice sounded small and weak, and she hated it. 

She knew she was smart. She knew how to command a classroom. She used to have more confidence than anyone else, but now she was scooting away from her boyfriend in her pretty green dress while he looked at her and said nothing. She wanted to unzip her dress and slip into bed and get all of the rest of her tears out, but if Jake wasn't going to do anything except stare at her, then she didn't know what to do.

"What would it change?" he finally asked as she fought with the zipper as her hands shook. 

"I don't know," she mumbled, frustration rising inside her now. "But I'm sure you think I'm an idiot. Like I can't read the room or take care of myself."

"Jessica," he said, and his voice was sharp enough that she met his green eyes. "You're not an idiot. He took advantage of you."

"It's embarrassing," she whispered, ready to rip the zipper off her dress as Jake climbed out of bed and carefully slid it down for her. As her dress fell away, leaving her completely bare except for her tiny thong, Jake kept his eyes on hers. 

He ran his fingers through her hair and said, "Brian is the one who embarrassed himself, Baby. I'm just shocked anyone could treat you that badly when you're as sweet as you are. But you didn't do anything wrong, and I promise I still feel the same way about you right now as I did two hours ago and yesterday." 

She nodded and cried against his shirt, her glasses smashing into his chest before he carefully slipped them off her face. Jake was kissing her forehead as she sobbed. "Smart Girl, you've been holding this inside for too long." She nodded as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. Then he scooped her up and pulled back the covers, climbing in bed with her in his arms while he still had on his undershirt and suit pants. 

"I told Advanced Calculus the other day, but she was the first person I ever said anything to. Chippy knows Brian did something to me, but he doesn't know what. That's why he's not allowed in the bar anymore."

He rubbed her back as she fought for each breath through her hiccups and tears. "I have a new appreciation for that grouchy, old man," Jake murmured, tightening his grip on her body as she settled against his chest once again. "And now I wish Bradshaw and his wife had let me level Conley tonight, because I'm really not okay with someone making my girlfriend feel bad about herself and continually belittling her." She looked up at him through her red rimmed eyes, and he kissed her forehead. "You don't deserve any of that."

-------------------------

Jake tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, but he was absolutely outraged inside. All of Jessica's hesitancies made sense now, including the way she thought he was already in a relationship the night they met. She was carrying this unfounded shame and hurt inside her while trying to protect herself from ever letting it happen again. But it wouldn't happen again; Jake would see to that.

The bottom line was, Brian Conley was a fucking asshole, and the next time Jake saw him, it was on. If that man ever so much as looked at Jessica the wrong way again, chances were good he'd end up in the hospital. Not that he was going to say that when she was currently gasping for air with her face buried against him. But he knew he'd take care of anything she needed, because he loved her.

"You're really strong," he whispered, and when she tried to shake her head no, he added, "Yes, you are. You go to work every single day and teach your classes and take care of your students, and you do it while Brian actively tries to make all of it harder for you. You're a badass."

"Oh, my god," she groaned, wiping her cheeks with her palms. "You're kind of right."

"I'm absolutely right," he replied. She gaped at him as he nodded, and soon she was nodding, too. And then Jessica ended up straddling his hips with her breasts pressed against his chest and her lips next to his ear. But it wasn't sexual which surprised him. He kept his arms loose around her and let her talk about whatever she wanted to talk about and pause when she needed to.

Brian's wife was named Sabrina, and their sons were nine and thirteen. He never wore a ring, and hardly anyone at the university knew he was married. Jessica found out about his family when she ran into the four of them out to eat one day.

"Based on the way Sabrina reacted to me when I walked up to Brian, she knew what was going on. I looked her in the eye and told her I was sorry and that I had no idea. So I'm convinced I'm not even the first woman he's done this with. And I know I'm not the last. He's sleeping with a TA from his department now."

"He's still married?" Jake asked softly.

"As far as I know. He had a good tactic for hiding it from everyone at work, too. He would tell me, 'Nobody can find out about us, Jessica. They would think I was playing favorites.' Then after I blew his cover to his wife, he started rumors about how I came onto him. He made himself look completely innocent while making me look like a slut."

Jake grunted. "He's a fucking scumbag. And what's the point of putting in the work and being in a relationship if you're just going to turn around and shit all over your efforts? I mean, obviously you're the kind of woman every guy wants, but you're mine now."

Jessica laughed softly as Jake ran his hands up and down along her back. "I was so scared to tell you," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet. "I didn't want you to think poorly of me."

Compared to every other woman he'd ever known, Jessica was the best. There was no contest in his mind. "None of this is your fault, Reedy. But what about the way he treats you now? What about getting tenure?"

She looked at him sadly. "If I fight it, I'll look bad. He's meticulously set it up that way. And that will reduce my chances of getting tenure even more. I'm honestly a little afraid I'm going to have to try to find a job at a different university."

Jake tried to think of other schools around the city. "Like Cal State? Or Point Loma?"

She shook her head sadly. "Do you know how hard it is to find an opening in a physics department when lazy old dudes still exist?"

Jake pulled her closer and kissed her cheek as he said, "Spell it out for me."

Jessica took a few seconds to snuggle in against him again, and he hoped she felt as comfortable and safe right now as he did. But her words made his heart sink. "I'm talking more like Penn State or Syracuse."

Pennsylvania or New York? Shit. That would never do. Not when he was already thinking about taking her home to Texas to meet his family. Not when he was falling for her more every day. "You should be able to stay in San Diego without being treated poorly."

"You're certainly helping with that."

Jake kissed the top of her head and laced his fingers with hers. "I just want you to be happy," he whispered. 

She smiled and said, "You're helping with that, too. Honestly, all I need right now is you, and a table at Chippy's, and for Brian to get hit by a truck."

"Baby, my new truck is all yours. Have at him." Jake was just happy that she was laughing as he let his fingers tangle in her hair. "You're a great teacher. And your fundraiser was incredible."

"Fratraiser," she replied with another soft laugh. 

"Fucking Bradshaw," Jake muttered. "Your fratraiser was incredible. You have a lot to be proud of. And I hope you can stay at your school, because I don't think I would do well in upstate New York. I turn into a bit of a whiner when I'm too cold."

Jessica looked up at him curiously. "Are you referring to my Syracuse comment?"

"Yes."

"So you would... come visit me? If I ended up at a different school?"

Jake's lips parted silently. He'd actually imagined moving there with her; the idea of shoveling snow made him want to cry, but he'd consider it for her. "Something like that," he answered softly. "Now... it's very late. Want me to read to you?"

He was reaching for one of the scientific journals on her nightstand with a questioning glance in her direction. "I would love that," she whispered. "How about the one about the one on electric propulsion?"

"Sure, Baby. I won't understand a single word of it, but sure."

"Yes, you will. You're smart."

Jake read quietly with Jessica snuggled against his side until she fell asleep. And then he read the remainder of the article to himself, because he actually did understand it. And it was fascinating. And he watched his girlfriend sleep as he considered registering for one of her lectures next semester, eventually dozing off as well.

It felt like he slept for just twenty minutes and simultaneously twelve hours when he woke up to Jessica's sweet voice in his ear. 

"Jake. Good morning."

He grunted softly as he felt her hand work open the front of the suit pants he'd fallen asleep wearing, and then her fingers were skimming along his cock. 

"Jessica." His eyes fluttered open just in time to watch her tits and head disappear underneath the covers, and then her lips were on his dick. "Oh, fuck."

He whipped the blankets off as she giggled in surprise, her pink tongue just an inch from his tip. "Is this okay?" she asked, licking him softly as she held him loosely with one hand. Her gorgeous ass was up in the air above her head, decorated to perfection with her green thong, and she was awaiting an answer from him. 

"Fuck yes," he gasped, reaching for her glasses. "Put these on first, Baby."

She took them and slid them on. "You want to make sure I can see everything I'm doing?" she asked before settling into place again. 

"No. I just like how you look in them," he whispered. 

She grinned and pulled his pants down a little bit more, kissing his length as she did so. This marked the first time Jake had felt her mouth on his cock, and he was way too excited for this. He loved getting blowjobs; always had, always would. But he couldn't remember a single girl who wore glasses for him.

"You need to tell me what you like," she whispered, wiggling her ass in the air as she cupped his balls. Holy shit, this woman had no idea how fucking hot she was. 

"I'm going to like anything you do," he promised, and then he was rewarded with her parted lips around the head of his cock. She sucked on him in a soft rhythm as her tongue swirled, and he groaned, "God damn. What did I even do to deserve this?"

Jessica popped him free and said, "You're a good boyfriend," before taking him deep with one long, smooth stroke until he bottomed out.

"Holy hell." He was scrambling now, one hand in her hair and one gripping at the sheets. "Baby, baby, baby," he whispered, watching as she bobbed her head. He had to suck in a deep breath through his nose and try to calm himself down. But when he exhaled, he just ended up moaning instead. "Oh my god."

Jessica's tits bounced and slapped each other and his thighs as she bobbed faster and faster before withdrawing him and grinning. The long strand of her saliva hanging from her lips was mesmerizing, and when it broke and landed on his hip he thrust up in her hand involuntarily. 

"You seem eager for more," she teased, shaking her ass again. 

"Jessica," he gasped when she started slowly jerking him off with her hands. "I'll do anything."

She leaned down and kissed his tip and then his abs and then his tip again. "Just ask nicely."

Jake watched her lick her lips, and he was desperate for that pink tongue again. He knew she was in charge right now, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Please, Baby? Please suck me off? I can't get enough."

She leaned down farther, her tongue settling on his base as he watched his cock rest against her glasses. He had to stifle a moan at the feel of her warm mouth and cool glasses at the same time, and then she licked his full length before taking him deep. His girlfriend was meticulous and unhurried, just like she was when she was lecturing. And now he made the mistake of thinking of her in front of a room full of eyes wearing a short skirt and tall heels as he reached to squeeze her tits.

He had no idea what he was saying. Just depraved things falling from his lips.

"Jessica, your mouth was made for me."

"Fuck, Baby. I need to come. I need to come."

"You're so good. So good!"

He couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but he was whimpering and begging her now as she slowly dragged her lips up to his tip before pushing them back down. Every graze against his balls and stroke of her fingernails in his trimmed hair had him gripping her tighter. Each swipe of her tongue had him cursing under his breath. He couldn't remember ever being this verbal before. But now she wasn't changing her pace at all, favoring her current plan to make him lose his mind. 

"Please," he gasped, panting so hard it was embarrassing.

"Tell me what you want," she demanded between long stripes of her tongue, the change of pace taking him closer to the edge.

He wanted it bad. So he decided to say it. "Let me cum on your glasses?"

She grinned and wrapped both of her hands around his length, and he was immediately in trouble. "Cum wherever you want."

"Oh, hell," he whined, tilting her head just right with his fingers tangled in her hair, and then when she licked her lips again, he was right there. 

Jessica gasped as his cum hit her glasses before another ribbon landed on her forehead. She squealed in delight as he coated her up, and she kept pumping her hand up and down his length. "Jesus," he grunted, reaching for her hand and slowing her motion as she licked the last beads of cum from his tip. "Jessica."

Jake hauled her up his body and kissed her lips, tasting himself and needing more. He ran his tongue across her cheek, cleaning his cum from her skin. Then he licked her glasses, and when he kissed her, she moaned into his mouth. He dragged his tongue through his mess again and again as he cupped her ass and brushed her hair out of her face. But she was a mess everywhere, and so was he. It didn't matter, because she was smiling at him over the top of her glasses. 

"That was hot," she whispered, and he tipped his head back and swallowed hard, still tasting his cum.

He hadn't been needy like that in recent memory. Maybe ever. "Baby, you're what's hot."

She pushed her fingers back through his hair, and for some reason, looking at his girlfriend's cum soaked face had him completely convinced she was the one. "Come wash me off," she whispered, and Jake followed her into the bathroom and the shower. 

He cleaned her glasses and her face under the stream of steamy water, pausing frequently to kiss her sweetly. He ended up with his back pressed to the wall as she told him, "You made me feel so good about myself last night. Just like you always do. Thank you."

"I was just telling you the truth, Baby."

As he ran his nose along hers, he thought about all the things he wanted to tell her and tried to put all of it in order in his mind. Then she added, "Now that alumni weekend is over, your birthday is coming up. We can focus on that instead."

He smiled. "Nothing fancy, okay? I just thought maybe we could trade Chippy's for the Hard Deck for one night? You could meet the rest of my friends."

"Do they have Sam Adams on tap?" she asked with a coy smile. 

Jake scoffed. "I wouldn't have suggested it if they didn't."

"Then yes. That sounds perfect for your birthday."

---------------------------

On Monday morning, Jessica still felt incredible. She'd managed to get Jake to stay over again, and he'd left her place at six in the morning wearing his wrinkled suit. Just the thought of it made her smile. He'd taken so much time reinforcing that he didn't think less of her because of Brian. He'd told her over and over that none of it was her fault. 

Even though she had a department meeting, she practically floated down the hallway to her office. Seeing Brian today would have no bearing on her mood or her happiness. But when she got closer to her door, she saw someone waiting for her. 

"Advanced Calculus," Jessica called out, rushing a bit more with her travel mug of coffee and her bag. She was delighted to see her friend and thank her again for everything she and Bradley did to help her out. "Hi." 

But the other woman held her hands up with a remorseful look on her face. "Listen, Jessica. I'm really sorry if what I did or said to Brian on Saturday night makes things worse around here for you. I should have kept myself in check, but I just fucking hate him."

Jessica gasped, and her face broke out in a smile as tears welled in her eyes. "No way. It was kind of perfect actually. Do you know how good it felt to have someone stand up for me for once?"

Next thing she knew, Jessica was wrapped up in her arms, and the tears didn't even fall. They just provided a pleasant blur as both women laughed. 

"Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid you'd be upset with me. Bradley told me to text you about a million times, but I knew you were probably having an important weekend with Jake." Then she jerked Jessica out of her arms and eyed her closely. "Jake was good, right? You told him about Brian and he was a gentleman?" 

Something flashed in her eyes that Jessica thought might have been protectiveness. "Yes. I told him everything, and he was... perfect."

"I knew he had it in him," she muttered. "Listen, I can't eat with you today. I promised Dr. Rosenthal I'd meet him to talk shop about the summer term over lunch. But tomorrow?"

"Sure," Jessica told her as she took off toward the elevators with a wave. "See you tomorrow."

After that, she checked her emails and found one from Dean Walters about how successful her alumni weekend event was. She decided she'd stop by his office and try to set up a one-on-one meeting with his receptionist later this week. Jessica probably had former Kappa Pi alum Dr. Gregory Michaels to thank for this, because she was absolutely certain Brain wouldn't have said anything flattering to the dean.

Convinced that Brian at his worst would have no effect on her whatsoever today, she headed downstairs for the weekly meeting with her chin held high. Jessica held the door open for Dr. Leeland and Dr. Nguyen, and then she blended into the back row seamlessly. Of course Brian took the time to thank everyone involved with the weekend by name. Well, everyone other than Jessica. But she just smirked in response. She'd already seen the email from Dean Walters. Brian could just spout off his usual shit until he was blue in the face. She could take it.

Then her physics lecture went smoothly, and Luca turned in a perfect homework set. She almost wanted to hug him, because he actually seemed proud of himself. Even though she ate lunch alone, she had some leftovers that Jake made, and she didn't mind one bit. Especially when he texted her while she was taking her break.

I miss you. I'll be there tomorrow for your office hours. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.

She was certain she could. She couldn't wait to show him. 

-----------------------

When Jake arrived on campus in his uniform on Tuesday evening, he expected to see Bradshaw's wife or perhaps Luca on his skateboard. What he didn't expect to find was a nearly empty science building. He smiled as he pushed the elevator button and rode up to Jessica's floor. Maybe he'd get a chance to have her alone in her office again. 

The weekend had been amazing, especially if he could cut out the parts where Brian Conley made his girlfriend cry. But Jake couldn't even be too upset about that, because after the frat fundraiser, Jessica had opened up even more to him. He finally had a better understanding of the way her mind worked, and he wanted to spend weeks reassuring her that he still felt the same way about her. 

Shit. He was definitely in love. There was no getting around that now. He would tell her soon. He'd figure out the best way to say it so she'd know he meant it. 

Her office door was open a few inches, and Jake could tell she wasn't alone. He heard voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. One voice sounded distinctly male, so maybe it was Luca looking for extra help. Based on what Jessica told Jake about his grades, Luca could absolutely use the extra help. So Jake just propped himself against the wall; he had no problem waiting until she was free.

"What the fuck do you mean Dean Walters emailed you directly?"

Jake pushed away from the wall immediately. That wasn't Luca. That was Brian, and he had just raised his voice.

Then he heard Jessica as she quietly said, "He emailed me to tell me I did a great job! This was my fundraiser, and you did nothing but try to prevent me from being successful!" 

"You don't deserve success," Brian hissed, and Jake tried to take some calming breaths. "And you'll never have it here. That includes tenure."

"What happened between us has nothing to do with how well I can do my job!"

When Brian laughed, it made Jake's skin crawl. With his fists clenched, he slowly pushed the door open as Brian said, "You deserve every label I gave you after you tried to ruin my marriage: the idiotic, unreliable department slut. You should have just kept your head down and your cunt available for me. Then you'd have tenure."

Brian had Jessica shoved up against her bookcase full of journals, the ones that Jake loved so much. Her face was red, and he could tell she was on the verge of tears. But she was so fucking strong as she told Brian, "I will get tenure, and you'll look like an asshole to everyone."

Then Brian put his hand on her face, and Jake snapped. "Hey, Conley," he barked, shoving the door so hard that it bounced off the wall before slamming shut. Brian turned to look at him, but his hands remained on Jessica who looked shocked now. "Hands off!" When he didn't back away from Jessica, Jake walked around her desk and as gently as he could with shaking hands, pulled her away from Brian. "You're even dumber than you look, man."

Brian laughed at him. "Yet you're the one trying to defend this slut."

Jake sucker punched him directly in his nose before he could think things through. "Oh, shit," he gasped as blood spurted onto Brian's suit and Jessica's precious collection of journals. 

She gasped next to him. "Jake."

"Fuck!" Brian nearly shouted, reaching for his gushing nose with both hands. "Are you out of your mind?"

But Jake shook his head, because Brian's bullshit wasn't going to work on him. "If I see you touch her or any woman like that ever again, I'll break your entire face. And you better start saying your prayers that I don't go to the dean myself. You think it's smart to leave the door open during Dr. Reed's office hours while you physically and verbally assault her?"

Brian just looked at him as his nose bled and his face started to bruise. Then his gaze shifted to Jessica where she stood slightly behind Jake. "Fuck you, bitch." Then he was gone, sending her door slamming once again.

"Jake," Jessica whispered as he looked at the droplets of blood on the floor and the bookshelf. 

"Jess, I'm sorry," he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. Her eyes were wide as he added, "I'm so sorry. I think I just made things a lot worse."

-----------------------------

Okay, I love to see him get the punch in while they are in private, but now I'm nervous. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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Ok but this hits home way too much 😭😭 like I'm actually crying. My dad in freshman year of highschool, helped me buy my first car which was my truck, a tan 1989 f-150, named spirit. We drove from Southern Wisconsin all the way to Idaho during spring break to get it. It took us 5 days. It was so expensive driving out there and Wyoming kept closing the roads because of so much snow. That man spent so much of his time and money rebuilding it just for me and I love the thing to death. He bought me everything I wanted to put on the truck just short of a new paint job. I had expensive bumpers, a spare engine, tires, KC headlights, a roll bar, and even new interior parts that cost fortunes. Honestly this seriously brings me to tears. I hope I find as good of a man as my father, one that's willing to do these things for me just because he loves me. Cause God only knows that cars are the way to my heart. Thank you so much for writing this, your work is a god send as always. I'm gonna go sit and cry for a bit, maybe even call my dad and tell him how much I love him 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

To anyone who reads this reblog, def go read the actual story, it's amazing 👏

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception. 

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning. 

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

-----------------------

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched. 

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

----------------------

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

----------------------

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights. 

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

--------------------------

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged. 

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door. 

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

---------------------------

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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