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roosterforme · 9 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make you as happy as you make him, and he hates it when you won't even let him try. But when your frustration boils over, you snap at the person you believe deserves it the most.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been foolishly holding out hope. Until your period actually began, you'd been telling yourself that maybe there was still a chance. Maybe you had just taken the pregnancy test too early. Maybe you got a false negative.

So when you woke up for work on Monday and needed a tampon, you scolded yourself for your optimism. There was no point in it, because it only made you feel worse in the long-run.

Bradley rubbed your shoulders and kissed your neck as you put your contacts in at the bathroom vanity. You looked gross. You were bloated, and your face was broken out. You vowed to stick to a better diet until you lost some weight.

"Morning, Baby Girl," he murmured against your ear. It wasn't even fair. You wanted him all the time. He was perfect all the time. His voice gave you chills.

"Morning," you whispered. "My period started." Your voice shook pathetically.

"It's okay," he promised. "It's going to be okay."

But you really felt like it wasn't. And work was pissing you off. When you got to your lab, you remembered that you and Cat were going to be spending the day working on proposals together. Great.

"Did you have fun at the Hard Deck?" you asked her, practically throwing your computer onto the counter next to hers.

She looked up at you, and you could tell she wanted to roll her eyes. "It was fun," she replied. "Not really my scene, but I can see where it would be yours."

You wanted to ask her what that was supposed to mean, but you bit your tongue. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of thinking you cared about her opinion of you. And you were definitely going to have to tell Jake to get a crush on a hot looking woman who was actually nice, because you'd had just about enough of this. He had bugged you all night at the bar to introduce him to Cat again. He asked you about her all the time, but there was nothing to tell.

You took a seat and pounded away at your keyboard, working all morning while trying to ignore your cramps and your irritation with the woman next to you. Neither of you spoke a word about anything personal. It was all professional. When you noticed that it was noon, you said, "Let's take a break," in as bright a voice as you could.

Jake was waiting in the doorway for you. Or maybe he was just trying to catch a glimpse of Cat. But regardless, when you approached him, he smiled and handed you a container of soup from the cafeteria. "Angel. Let's eat in your office," he drawled. And when Cat breezed past him, he murmured, "Hi, Lieutenant Coleman."

She smirked in response, and Jake turned to watch her walk the entire way down the hall. "You're such a dog," you told him, inspecting the soup and finding it was chicken noodle. "You just need to get laid. Go to the bar tonight. There'll be a line of girls waiting for you."

He met your eyes and shook his head. "I'm not really doing that anymore."

You snorted as he followed you to your office. "Could you imagine if I agreed to go out with you? Bradley and I would have never happened after that."

Jake kicked his booted foot along your office floor before he plopped down into your extra chair. "Yeah, well... he'd have likely killed me if we went out. But, hey, you're not listening to me, Angel. Tell me more about Cat Coleman."

You sighed and ate some soup. "She's mean to me, okay? She doesn't like me."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. She's so bitchy to me but nice to everyone else. She makes fun of the way I work. She won't eat lunch with me. She avoids me all the time. She hates me."

You swallowed another spoonful of soup, and tears immediately sprung to your eyes. You looked up at Jake, and you knew he could tell something was wrong immediately. When he jumped to his feet, you tried to wave him off, but he was kneeling next to your chair and rubbing your hand before you knew it.

"What happened?" he asked softly. When you didn't respond, he gave you a few seconds before asking, "Do you want me to go get Rooster?"

"No," you croaked, your throat burning with the effort to talk. "I'm fine."

"You do not sound fine. You can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I'm all ears."

And he just knelt there next to you while you told him how much you hated going to your lab now. And you told him that you had your period. And then you said, "Bradley and I are trying to start a family, but it's just not happening."

"Hey," he said, letting you cry it out. "You and Bradley are already a family. Plus, you've got Tramp. And Nat and I are like siblings you guys never even wanted."

You kind of shrugged at him. "It's not the same thing."

"I know that, but sometimes it takes time," he told you.

"It's been four months," you whispered.

Jake stood up and pulled you to your feet, and then he wrapped you in a hug so tight, his name tag was digging into your collarbone. "Just give it some time. You want me to talk to Rooster?"

"No. Let's just finish eating lunch."

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

Bradley had been trying all week. Kissing along your neck and rubbing your hips through your khakis while you made dinner. But you finally snapped at him on Wednesday night when you were trying to cut up some sun dried tomatoes for the Marry Me Rooster he had requested.

"I'm trying to cook dinner, Bradley. Yes, I realize you're trying to get me in the mood. Yes, I can feel your erection. No, I don't want to have sex. I look gross, and I feel gross." You set down your knife and turned to face him. He had taken one huge step away from you, and now he was looking at you with the saddest brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked down the hallway toward your bedroom.

"Shit," you whispered as you rushed after him. "I'm sorry."

He was standing next to the bed unbuttoning his uniform shirt when you walked in and headed right for him. But he didn't say anything, just yanked his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. The sight of him in his khaki pants and black undershirt had you sucking in a deep breath. It wasn't that you didn't want him. You just didn't even want yourself right now.

"Bradley," you whispered.

"Nah. I'm going to go workout in the garage," he told you, stripping out of his pants and digging in a drawer for some gym shorts. "I'll eat later. Don't wait for me."

You watched him walk back out of the room. Then he called for Tramp, and you heard the sliding glass door open and then close. You went back to the kitchen and finished making dinner. You had to fight the urge to go out to the garage and get Bradley, because somehow you knew you'd just end up making things worse. You made him a beautiful plate of dinner and left it on the island. And then you got yourself ready for bed. You were no longer hungry.

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

Bradley was stressing out. He could feel his composure crumbling as every maneuver he performed in the air was wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was like he and his Super Hornet were out of sync. Like he couldn't trust himself.

"What are you doing, Rooster?" Phoenix asked him through the comms. But Bradley didn't even know how to respond, because he hadn't been paying attention. He was distracted. He was never like this in the air.

And then he heard Maverick call his team back to the ground, and he knew it was his fault. He wished he could take all of the pushups for Phoenix and Bob as well, but it was a team effort after all. So Bradley had to try to keep calm while he could feel them glaring at him through all two hundred pushups.

He had been like this all week. Nothing made as much sense to him as flying did. Well, other than you. But things had been a little rough and unpredictable at home. He wasn't really trying to do it, but he had begun to memorize when you were ovulating and when your period was due. Fucking you was no chore, but he was absolutely ready for you to miss a period. He was obsessed with the idea of you showing him a positive pregnancy test. But it just... wasn't happening yet.

And now he was putting pressure on himself. Because he knew he was a ticking time bomb. He felt it in his bones. Any day now, he would be getting deployment papers. And then you would be alone for who knows how long. Weeks or months. Bradley would be on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean, and you would be at home, worrying about him. And the mission to make a baby would be put on hold, replaced by a different kind of mission.

The thing was, all of this was bothering him a hell of a lot more now, because it was bothering you so much.

Bradley slammed his locker closed only to find Jake standing there. "You better pull it together, Bradshaw," he said so calmly that it pissed Bradley off even more. "Or you're going to get grounded."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bradley asked, getting in his face. "Do you think I don't know I'm flying like shit right now?"

But Jake didn't move an inch, and his expression didn't change. "I think whatever is bothering you... well, you should take it home to your wife. Angel will help you feel better."

Bradley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning against his locker with his fist clenched. "She's part of the fucking problem," Bradley growled, and he watched Jake's eyes grow wide.

Jake gaped at him before he said, "I can't think of a single time you've ever said something like that about her." His feelings seemed to be hurt on your behalf, but Bradley didn't know how to explain how he felt.

"When she puts pressure on herself, all I want is to relieve it for her," he told Jake softly, trying to unclench his fist. "But I can't. She won't let me."

Jake sighed. "I think I know what it's about. She's been pretty upset. Tried to tell her it's not her fault, but I can tell she's blaming herself."

Bradley could feel his cheeks flushing. You and Jake were close. The other man probably did know some details about your intimate moments with Bradley which was kind of mortifying. However, Bradley would never want you to feel like you couldn't confide in someone you trusted. It was just hard to gasp that Jake was oftentimes that person for you.

"We just want to have a baby," Bradley growled.

"It's only been a few months," Jake reminded him. "Deep down, Angel knows it takes time."

Bradley looked up at the flickering fluorescent bulb. "Sometimes I feel like I'm never doing enough for her," he whispered, grabbing his bag and brushing past Jake.

But he almost ran into Payback on his way out. "What are you still doing here, man?" he asked with a grin. "If I had a girl as hot as your wife, I'd be home by now, pumping her full of babies."

The urge to punch his friend directly in the face was so strong, Bradley had to bite his lip and keep moving. He needed to get home to you but not take this out on you. That would be unacceptable. Because while you were adding to his stress, he would never tell you that.

You were already home when he walked inside, and Bradley had to try to fight for composure. "Hi," he managed to say. Of course you looked impossibly cute, laying with Tramp on the couch in Bradley's oversized UVA tee and a pair of his boxer briefs. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep his hands off you right now, but you'd been distant with him for more than a week.

"How was your day?" you asked him softly.

Somehow your sweet voice just made him angry. Your voice and your gorgeous face and the way he could see your nipples through the shirt. And Bradley couldn't help himself. His voice was rough to his own ears, and he sounded mad. "My day fucking sucked. It was terrible," he growled. "I flew like an asshole. I got everyone assigned to pushups. I was so distracted from work, thinking about you."

Your eyes were wide as you sat up. "Thinking about me?" Tramp jumped to the floor and ran over to sniff at Bradley's boots as he untied them.

"Yeah," he grunted, wrestling out of his flight suit and tossing it to a heap on the floor. His skin felt too hot. He needed to go for a run or lift weights. "I told you I think about you all the damn time. And today, trust me, I wish I hadn't been."

"What does that mean?" you asked him, standing up between the couch and the coffee table, your lips forming a little pout.

Bradley yanked his undershirt off as well, standing just inside the front door in only his compression shorts and his socks. "It means I'm mad because you won't let me try to make you feel better! You don't even want to talk to me, but you'll talk to Jake! I'm fucking pissed that you're skipping meals and ditching me for lunch every day!"

Bradley took off toward the bedroom, leaving you behind. He was afraid of what else he was going to say if he didn't get some space to himself right now. And the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. But when he got into the bedroom to get some workout clothes, you followed him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him with wide eyes.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked loudly, slamming his drawer shut instead of actually pulling anything out of it. "Tell me."

"I'm sorry I've been shutting you out, Roo." You took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been eating lunch with you. I know we can keep trying, but when I get my period now, I panic."

"You panic and talk to Jake," Bradley growled. When you simply nodded, his blood boiled. He knew he was red in the face as he closed the distance to you. The words were there before he could take them back. "If you want to talk to Jake all the time, maybe you should have married him."

Your lips parted soundlessly, and then you moaned. A needy sound, from the back of your throat. One that had Bradley's cock stirring immediately.

"I don't want him. I've never wanted him. I just want you."

"Do you want me right now, Baby Girl? Because I wanna fuck you right here," he said as calmly as he could, but his voice was still gruff and unsteady. "You're going to have to tell me to go out back to the garage if you want me to keep my hands to myself. Okay? Because I want my wife. But I will settle for my hand and then the bench press if you don't want me back."

You whimpered, reaching for the hem of the tee shirt and guiding it up over your hips. "I am so turned on," you whispered. "Please."

"Please what?" Bradley demanded, running his hand along his cock through his shorts.

"Daddy," you gasped in shock. Like you couldn't even believe you said it to him. Like you needed him as badly as he needed you. "Fuck me."

"Baby Girl," he whispered harshly as he pressed himself against you.

You yanked the shirt over your head and pulled his boxer briefs down over your delicious hips as you moaned, "I want my husband."

His cock was fully at attention now as he stroked your dainty Rooster tattoo with his fingertips. "I'm right here," he growled, watching you step out of his underwear and kick them aside. Your eyes were wide and fixed on his as you stood naked before him. "You gonna let me take care of you?"

"Yes," you gasped when he moved his hand to your pussy. "Are you still angry, Daddy? From your bad day?"

Bradley raised one eyebrow. He knew how he sounded. He knew he was breathing heavily. He also felt how fucking wet you were as he slid his middle finger along your slit.

"Do you want me to be?" he asked before placing a rough kiss to your lips.

"Yes," you moaned, and in one swift movement, Bradley had the front of your body pressed up against the wall next to the bedroom door. You squealed and braced yourself with both hands as he gently kicked your legs a little further apart.

"You like making me this way?" he growled next to your ear before sucking hard on your neck. "I think you do."

Bradley reached his hands up to squeeze your tits as you whined his name. He stroked your nipples softly with his thumbs while he sucked on your neck some more.

Then he took his cock in his right hand and guided himself to your opening. He filled you in one swift motion, and started fucking you so hard, your face almost hit the wall. He caught you with his hand on your jaw as you whimpered for him.

"You think it's fun to get me all pissed off at work?" he asked, low and soft. "You love having so much control over me, don't you?"

"I do," you whispered as he turned your face so you were looking at him over your shoulder.

"You love knowing I think about your voice during lectures. Think about your body when I'm flying. I can't stop thinking about how much I love fucking you," he said, his voice getting louder as he pressed his forehead against your perfect cheek and brushed his fingers over your tattoo before stroking your clit.

You cried out for him. "I do, Daddy! I love it!"

Bradley was determined to get you off. He wouldn't have a repeat of the dining room floor. Not today. He went a little harder, a little deeper. He listened to the incoherent words tumbling out of your mouth. And then he said, "Try and find someone better than me. Someone else who can fuck you this good. You can't."

"No!" you grunted, your fingers bending, nails digging into the wall. You were struggling to look at him as your eyes fluttered closed.

He kissed along your jaw before ending at your ear and whispering, "I love you." And then he felt it. That beautiful clench of your pussy as you came for him. He knew the feel of you so well. He wanted to take care of everything for you. He needed to give you everything you wanted. Be everything you needed.

He came for you too, hands drifting to your hips as his movements slowed. You were unsteady on your feet as you turned to face him. Bradley's cum was dripping down your legs and onto the floor as you reached for him. Then you were in his arms, kissing him just right with your fingers in his hair. And he couldn't remember why he'd been upset in the first place.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Bradley stumbled back onto the bed with you wrapped up with him. When he fell back with you on top of him, you laughed.

"Come here," he coaxed, and you straddled his waist and kissed him until your lips were puffy. When he tried to move, you held him down and kissed him some more. He felt himself relax completely with every little sound you made and every swipe of your tongue against his.

"Roo," you crooned, your lips moving to his neck and kissing him softly there.

He groaned and started to sit up. "What's it called when the foreplay comes after sex?"

You giggled. "Post play?"

"Shit, Sweetheart," he said, letting you keep going with your lips. "You want more?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his skin, setting his nerve endings ablaze.

"Give me a minute, and I'll take care of you again."

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

You were sore on Monday morning. In the best kind of way. You and Bradley had spent the weekend talking and having sex. And then having more sex. Only taking a break to go grocery shopping and swing by the Hard Deck. Jake knew right away that you were both feeling much better. He was always so patient with you that you found it hard not to smile when he bought you and Bradley beers.

You needed to be more open with Bradley. And you would be. And starting today, you'd meet him and Nat in the cafeteria unless you really were honestly working through lunch instead of hiding in your office. You just needed to get through your morning with Cat. Which was easier said than done.

She gave you short answers to every question. When you asked her to type up some of the notes you wrote, she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have typed this up yourself?"

You sighed. "I worked it up over the weekend. In my free time. I read it to my husband as I wrote it, and it seemed to flow easier when I wrote it."

She scrutinized your notebook. "Well I can barely read it. I'll work in the code while you type it up. I'm better at the code anyway."

Was she implying she was better at coding than typing? Or that she was better at coding than you were? She made you so mad. The next time Jake mentioned how beautiful her eyes were, you were going to pummel him.

Everyone else had already deserted the lab when you realized what time it was. "Should we take a lunch break?" you asked, scrambling to lock up your computer. Bradley and the others were probably waiting for you already. You did not want to disappoint him today. Not after such a perfect weekend.

"Fine," Cat agreed. Her tone was short, like you were throwing off her entire day by deciding to take lunch at lunchtime.

You squared your shoulders and turned to face her as she stood up. Then you blurted out, "I don't understand what I did to make you dislike me."

Cat froze in place, her eyes appraising your face. You felt the prickle of embarrassment along your skin, and you were afraid she was going to laugh in your face. But she just shook her head slowly. "I don't dislike you."

"Yes, you do," you scoffed, your embarrassment swiftly replaced with annoyance.

"No, Lieutenant Commander. I do not," she said, firmly closing her computer. Then she went off, and you didn't stop her. "But your life is so perfect, it's honestly hard for me to relate to you. Even at work. Your husband dotes on you. He's always in the lab, bringing you snacks and asking you about your day. You've got Seresin in here all the time, too. And you're the golden child. Bickel sings your praises at the meetings every week."

Your eyes were bugging out. "But, that's not-"

She cut you off and kept going. "You and I both have the same master's degree, but I'm a year older than you, and you outrank me." Her voice sounded bitter as she said, "I'm a single mom. My life is a mess. I'm broke. We live with my uncle. I feel like a joke all the time. But your life is perfect. And trust me, I wish more than anyone else that I wasn't jealous of you."

You stood completely still and watched her walk out of the lab and disappear down the hallway. Your life was not perfect. The fact that it maybe looked that way to someone else shocked you. Cat thought she was a mess. Well, you were a mess, too. But she was a mom.

A moment later, you followed her down the hallway toward the cafeteria where Bradley was waiting for you with a smile on his face and a bottle of your favorite hot sauce on his tray.

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

Oh. Cat's a little jelly of BG. Well, Cat... BG just might be a little jelly of you. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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