Summary: Concerned about how focused Raymond always is on work, Pearson all but orders him to go on holiday for a week. Grudgingly, Raymond departs to Miami at Pearson's insistence, but he doesn't expect to meet you on his first nightâthe sweet American nurse he finds himself indulging in and spoiling for a week.
paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )
wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)
synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.
note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words đ€Ż ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea.
Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her đ . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it.
And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual.
The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot.
Don't like that, please skip this one.
And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off đ
Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker
|| Masterlist ||
divider by @sweetmelodygraphics
banner by @firefly-graphics
gif by @jensens-ackles
!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!
When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam.
His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.
There it was again.
He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right.
"Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?"
But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake.
"Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying"
"That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.
Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked.
"Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground.
"Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.
This was bad.
For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance.
He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.
"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out.
"Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle.
"Are you...", he begins before he stops himself.
Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok?
It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else.
"What happened, Nike?"
You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there.
"Rooster?"
Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation
"Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket.
"No, please don't"
He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender.
"Ok, I'm not"
Bradley only knows you as IC.
The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it.
They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason.
Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement.
They trusted you.
Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.
"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them.
You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling.
When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper.
"A place to stay"
He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately.
"It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style.
He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair.
"Let's get you home"
At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.
You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?
Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant.
The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.
It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him.
"I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life.
Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride.
He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.
"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it.
"Promise you'll come back"
"I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.
Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time.
"Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace.
"I'll always come for you"
He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter.
"Blanket on or off?"
"Off"
He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time.
"I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and Iâll tell you when to lookâ, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.
So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside.
"You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything.
On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.
"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring.
"I'm gonna take your shoes off first"
He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way.
He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.
"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand.
Holding on for dear life.
"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot.
You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath.
"Can you help with the zipper?"
"Of course"
He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace.
Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow.
Fuck.
He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.
You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately.
"Sorry"
"No...Can you untie...?"
This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out.
The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster.
"Thank you"
âI can put this on a hanger for youâ, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts.
âThere are loops...â, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this.
"Anything else?"
He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself
"Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will"
"Can you help with the stockings?"
You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.
So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you.
Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.
"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this.
You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace.
Not for you and not for him.
"Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers.
"For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.
When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch.
Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in.
"Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had.
That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"Couch"
Fuck no.
He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that.
Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed.
"You take the bed"
"Rooster..."
"No"
There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.
You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was:
"No"
"What no?"
"No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily.
"No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.
Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest.
He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this.
"I'm scared of being alone"
He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you.
"I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments.
"Thank you, Bradley"
He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name.
It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans.
There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin.
"No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"
He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom.
His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.
When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you.
âTell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear.
He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache.
"Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it"
"Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him.
"I just really don't want to be alone"
You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye.
"You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck.
And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand.
"You are never alone"
Part 2
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Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)
Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)
Content Warning: Bickering, Arguing, Cursing (or almost), Reader feels sorry for herself somewhat, Reader disaparages herself, Heart to hearts with mom, Slight putting down of other girls (more comparing herself to others), Secret notes, Flattery, and general angst. I think that convers everything, but please let me know if I forgot anything!
Word Count: 3.45k
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You rushed up the stairs to change for dinner, already hearing Georgie prattling on about something or other. Nora was hot on your tail, nearly running into you as you tripped over your skirts. You let out a huff as you gathered them in your hands, practically sprinting down the hall, and you counted yourself lucky that your mother was already down in the dining hall.
âQuick, Nora,â you called over your shoulder, stumbling to a stop in front of your open door. You skittered inside as Nora closed the door behind the two of you, the maid turning quickly to the clothespress, already prying open the many drawers as you stripped down.
âThe blue dress, miss?â Nora asked, showing you the powder blue fabric. You nodded, padding over so she could slip the garment over your head. You changed your shoes, Nora fixing your hair as best she could as you flitted about the room.
The note hidden inside your book was still at the forefront of your mind as you rushed down the stairs after a parting thank you to your maid. The conversation around the table was as lively as ever, Georgie regaling everyone with the latest gossip from around the Island. You stopped short in the doorway upon seeing Lord Seresin, having forgotten momentarily that he had been invited. His jade green eyes snapped over to where you stood, a spark alighting upon seeing you. You sucked in a breath, your nerves aflutter. The conversation from earlier that day ran through your mind, and your lips turned downwards before you could stop them. You squared your shoulders, marching toward your seat on the opposite side of the tableâjust across from the handsome lord.
âBug,â your mother greeted, disapproval over your tardiness crystal clear in her tone as she watched you sit. âHow good of you to finally join us.â
âApologies for being late,â you offered quietly, glancing around the table. Your motherâs disapproval was clear on her face just as curiosity was evident on both your brotherâs and Lord Seresinâs. Georgie shot you an irritated scowl, her displeasure at the attention no longer being on her quite clear as well. You cleared your throat, hanging your head in a poor attempt to hide. You could feel all eyes on you, and you fidgeted with your fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as the servants entered the room with the first course.
The dishes clattered against one another as they were set at each place setting. The savory scent of the soup had your stomach letting out a loud growl, and a snort had your gaze moving upwards.
Lord Seresin his smileâpoorly you might addâbehind his hand as he feigned a cough. Your brow twitched as a sudden wave of irritation came over you, and you set your lips in a firm line as you glared at him.
Georgiana had begun relaying her gossip once more, her voice droning on as you shifted your focus back towards food.
You ate in silence as the evening passed, William and Lord Seresin speaking about business matters, your mother regaling the table with her charity ventures, and your sister doing her best to prove that sheâd be the ideal wife for the eligible lord. Every so often you would feel eyes on you, and you did your best to ignore the sensation, making a point to look anywhere but across the table.
âItâs good to see that youâre feeling better, Bug.â
You looked up with wide eyes to see Lord Seresin sporting a cocky-looking smirk, his chin resting on his folded hands as he studied you.
âI beg your pardon?â You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Lord Seresin tilted his head at you, smirk still in place.
âYou mentioned feeling ill earlier today,â he prodded. âThen you left so suddenly that one could only presume it must have been serious.â
Your heart dropped to your stomach as his eyes flashed at you.
âYet,â he purred, âhere you are.â
You swallowed thickly, your fork hovering over your plate as your skin warmed.
âYes, well,â you stuttered, clearing your throat, âIâm sorry if I caused you to worry, my lord, but it was only a headache.â
âMust have been a rather nasty headache,â he pressed. You were vaguely aware of the gazes of both your brother and mother shifting between the two of you warily. âThe way you ran out of the park, I can only assume that it must have been agonizing.â
You bristled. What was he playing at? He knows why you left the park as quickly as you did, and yet he seemed determined to hear you say it. Georgie continued prattling on about something or other, and you sat up a little straighter in your chair. You set your jaw, lips pressed firmly together as you gave the blond a rather cold stare that only seemed to make him grin wider.
âIt was, my lord,â you responded, ice dripping from your tone. âIt was the nastiest headache Iâve ever had. I suppose you could even call it a real pain in my-â
âBug!â Your mother exclaims, shooting you a wide-eyed glare as her eyes flicker towards the duke as your brother covers a snort with a feigned cough. Georgie stops her chattering at the outburst, eyes narrowing as she finally takes in the scene before her. You know youâre in for her raving later with the way she fixes a conspicuous glare in your direction. You canât back down thoughânot to the arrogant bastard still smirking at you from across the table. He quirks a brow at you, seemingly in challenge as he speaks.
âSuch language from a young lady of the Island,â he smirked. You clench your teeth so hard, you swear theyâll break.
âWell,â you sneered, cutting into your meal and avoiding his eyes, âas I was so dutifully reminded earlier today, I am nothing more than a silly, little girl who will be lucky to even find a match.â
The room is silent as you finish. Your motherâs brow is furrowed in concern as your brother frowns, sparing you a glance before fixing a confused glare on his friend. If looks could kill, youâd be six feet under with how Georgie glared at you, and Lord Seresin. A strange ache in your chest blossomed as you glanced up at him. The smirk was long gone, and a look of consternation adored his handsome features. Slowly, you placed your cutlery on your plate, clearing your throat and turning your attention towards your mother.
âMy apologies,â you offered, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you rested a hand against your stomach. âIt appears that I am not feeling as well as I previously thought. Might I retire for the evening?â
Your mother blinked owlishly at you. âOh, um, yes. Of course.â
You were already on your feet and halfway towards the door by the time she finished. Lord Seresin called after you, but you refused to acknowledge him as you traipsed up the stairs.
âDonât mind her, my lord,â you heard Georgianaâs voice echo up to you. âSheâs always causing some kind of commotion around here. Itâs best to just ignore her and carry on.â
Tears stung at your eyes as you cleared the landing. You didnât know why your sisterâs words stung as much as they did. It wasnât like you werenât used to her barbs at you, but something about them being offered to the man you once adored so much as a small child had the tears spilling over onto your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You wiped at your face furiously with the backs of your hands, waving Nora off with a wave of your hands and a shake of your head. She offered you a sympathetic look as you retreated into your room with a click as the door shut behind you.
You tore off your dress haphazardly, hiccuping sobs escaping you as you pulled your night dress over your head. Why were you so upset? You knew what people in society whispered about you behind your back. You were no great beauty like Lydia, nor were you elegant like Theodosia. You certainly didnât know how to capture and command a room like Georgiana. You wereâŠyou. You were bookish and uninterested in frivolous things like the latest fashions. You werenât concerned with your looks like most other ladies. You knew this about yourself, prided yourself in it even.
So why did the thought that Lord Seresin might view you in such a disparaging way make you want to break down all over again?
Your eyes were puffy and swollen long after you had managed to stop crying, yet you still sat on the bench by your window, watching the flickering flames of the candles in the streetlamps. Your back ached from sitting in the same position for so long, and yet you refused to move. You sat there long enough for a numbing sensation to crawl up your hand and into your arm from where you were pressed so tightly against the glass.
A knock sounded at the door, and you startled.
âPlease, Nora,â you called out. âI just want to be alone right now. Iâll see you in the morning.â
The door creaked open, the light from the hallway filtering through the crack in the door as you let out a frustrated huff.
âNora, I-â You stopped short as you whipped your head around to see your mother peering around the door at you.
âOh,â you blinked, narrowing your eyes against the light. âItâs you, Mama.â
âWell, donât sound so excited to see me,â she teased lightly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. You watched as she surveyed the room, a crinkle on her brow to match the purse of her lips.
âItâs so dark in here,â she tsked, moving to light one of the lamps. You didnât reply, used to your mother going about and doing as she pleased. You wondered if thatâs where Georgiana got it from.
âThere,â she smiled as the candlelight flickered along the panes of the wall. You curled in on yourself as she turned to fix her smile upon you. âMuch better, wouldnât you say?â
Again, you didnât reply. You simply waited for her to say what she came in to say. Her smile faltered after a moment of silence, and she let out a weary sigh as you continued to stare.
âSweetheart,â she started, walking over to sit next to you. You pulled your legs closer to you in order to allow her room, and she sat with a gentle hand on your knee. She hesitated, seeming to mull over what it was she wanted to say.
âJust spit it out,â you mumbled. âI already know Iâm a disappointment to you.â
Her eyes widened before a look of confusion crossed her face.
âDarling, why ever would you think that?â
âItâs obvious,â you snapped back, but there was no real bite to your tone. The ache from before returned with a vengeance, and tears welled in your eyes once more. âIâm not like everyone else. Iâm not beautiful or graceful or charming. Iâm temperamental, bookish, and pig-headed. Iâm-â
You stopped, sucking in a deep breath as the tears threatened to spill over. You blew out the breath shakily as you wiped at your eyes.
âIâm somethingâŠto be settled for,â you finished, averting your gaze down to the floor. There was a momentâs pause before your mother took your hand.
âOh, my darling girl,â she cooed, pulling you close to wrap her arms around you. You allowed her to maneuver you, leaning your head against her chest as you listened to her heartbeat.
âYou are not temperamental, youâre passionate. Youâre bookish, but my dear you are so beautiful as well. You are inquisitive and mindful, and kind, and certainly not something to be settled for,â she told you as she stroked your hair soothingly. You sniffled, raising your head to look at her.
âWhat about pig-headed?â
âOh, well,â she chuckled, hugging you a little tighter. âIâm afraid you are rather pig-headed, sweetheart. Itâs something you inherited from your father.â
You clicked your tongue at her, but couldnât stop the smile that worked its way onto your face as you inhaled her scent. It was the familiar, comforting smell of lavender and fresh linen, and for a moment you were a child again, seeking comfort in the steady presence of your mother.
âNow,â she sighed, âwhat seems to be going on between you and Lord Seresin.â
You balked at the question, pulling away to fix her with a scowl.
âAbsolutely nothing,â you asserted with a roll of your eyes. âHeâs an arrogant, self-righteous bastard.â
Your mother gave you a look at your profanity, but didnât comment on it.
âIt seems that the two of you have,â she paused, âquite an interesting dynamic.â
âIf you mean the kind where we canât stand each other, then I suppose youâre correct,â you sniffed. Your mother fixed you with a dubious look.
âThatâs not how it appears to me or anyone else,â she pressed.
âAnd what, pray tell, is everyone else seeing?â You asked with another roll of your eyes.
âDarling,â she snickered, âitâs quite clear to anyone with eyes that the duke is smitten with you.â
You laughed at that. Lord Seresin smitten with someone like you? It was absolutely a laughable thought. The man was arrogant and smug, of course, but you werenât fool enough to believe that he wasnât handsome and the most eligible bachelor of the season. Your laughter died down, a frown fixing on your face as you took in your motherâs serious expression.
âMama,â you scoffed. âHeâs most certainly not interested in me. The man can hardly stand me. If anything, he sees me as the same silly, little girl he was saddled with years ago.â
âI donât believe thatâs true,â she countered quickly. âI think youâve misjudged the situation-â
âBesides,â you cut her off. âItâs Georgiana who will be his wife. Sheâs interested and clearly the perfect match for someone like him.â
Your motherâs brow furrowed at your words before she shook her head.
âNo, my darling,â she insisted. âGeorgiana wants someone who will dote on her and give in to her every whim. Someone who will spoil her with finest silks and pearls. I rather doubt sheâll find that in a match with Lord Seresin.â
âAnd how would you know?â
âA mother knows everything, Dearest,â she smirked, patting your knee gently. âA mother knows whatâs best for her children. She sees her childrenâs faults and virtues, and she loves them all the more for both. She sees what will make her children happy, even if they themselves donât see it at the moment.â
You watched as she rose from the bench, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head.
âGet some rest, Little Bug,â she told you, heading toward the door. âWe have a busy day tomorrow.â
You sat with your motherâs words for some time. You couldnât piece together why she was so convinced that Lord Seresin had any feelings other than contempt when it came to you. The image of his smug smirk at dinner flashed in your mind for a brief moment, and your frown deepened as you remembered the blatant challenge he had issued you.
It truly was amazing how easily one person could get under your skin so easily. Why he had such an effect on you was far beyond the scope of your knowledge, and you supposed that some people just had that way about them when it came to others.
The candlelight still flickered against the far wall, and it wasnât until you heard your sisterâs door close just down the hall that you finally moved from your position by the window. You padded slowly over towards the desk where the candle stood, watching the flame flicker and dance as you attempted to collect your thoughts. Closing your eyes, you let your head tip back, feeling your confusion give way to apprehension at the thought of the parading you would have to do tomorrow. Once again, you were reminded of how different the two of you were.
Georgie basked in every bit of attention thrown her way whether it was the admiration and desire from potential suitors or the envy of her competition. You, however, loathed the spotlight and preferred to spend your time locked away in your studio or the library. For a moment, you wondered if you could convince your mother to let you stay home the next day to work on your art rather than prance around the park in your sisterâs shadow once more.
You opened your eyes to stare at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh as you slowly brought your gaze back down towards the desk. It was then that your eyes flickered to rest on the paper that had taken up your attention earlier that evening. Your brow furrowed once more as you chewed on your bottom lip, fingers dancing along the edge of the desk before snatching the paper up and unfolding it to reveal the scrawl etched inside.
Fairest lady,
The way of words is perhaps not my greatest strength, however I would find myself in the depths of deepest regret were I not to impart upon you the feelings that grip me so thoroughly and to my very soul.
When I saw you amongst the flowers this afternoon, it was like the very breath within me had been stolen. As I gazed upon you, the sun itself appeared to grow dim, as if it realized it paled in comparison to the very image of yourself.
But, it is not only your beauty that I have great fondness for, lady. Much like the heroine of this book you find yourself in possession of, you do not conform to the ideals of women that have been presented to you. No, you make your own path in this world, and for that I admire you greatly.
I should like to hear your thoughts on this novel once you finish it, but I should like to read your words before then. I thought it pertinent to return this book to you, and so I had a boy return it to your home. If you should like, you may reply to me in kind and leave your note by the same fountain underneath the flower pot nearest the exit. If I do not find a reply within the week, I shall know that you are not interested.
I wait in anticipation of your reply, my lady.
Robyn
You read over the note once more, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you pondered what to do. You had no knowledge of anyone named Robyn, and so you could only assume that it was a moniker of some kind. You wondered what gentleman in your sphere would have taken the time to read such a book as Northanger Abbey, taking the time to dissect the themes and elements beyond the initial glance.
Certainly no man you knew.
Now, you wondered if you should reply. If you were caught passing notes, it could stir up a scandal for your family, no matter how innocent the notes seemed. It could also be a trick that one of the meaner ladies of the Island was trying to pull. You werenât sure you could handle being the subject of yet another joke.
Still, you had always been a curious creature, and the thought of not knowing who this person was something you couldnât stand to let pass. You plucked a quill pen from one of the drawers, preparing it before sitting down to pen your reply.
Robyn,
You speak of me as if you know me, and yet I do not know anyone with your name or even one who uses words such as yours. You intrigue me, Robyn, and I should like to know more about you if we are to exchange letters concerning our thoughts to one another. For much like Catherine Morland, I too have a fondness for stories and fantastical ideas. I only wish that they not be advertised or used against me more than they already are at present.
Can I trust that you will not use my words against me in the future? I find it rather hard to put my trust in someone when I do not know who they are. Might you tell me some things about yourself?
I await your reply,
Lady Sinclair
A/N: And here's an update for you all! I know I just ran a poll, but I might update Fool's Fare next just because I'm pretty far into it already. But then I'll update Hanging By a Moment! Can't believe it's actually winning, I thought I'd never see this day again, but I knew Jake and Scout would have their time in the sun again!! Anyway, what do we think so far?? Are Bug and Lord Seresin going to make amends, or are they doomed to hate each other? Who is Robyn? What do they want with Bug??
Also, just a reminder that I've started my travel season for the semester, so updates should actually be a little more frequent despite what you'd think. I've got a lot of time to hang out in hotel rooms coming up lol
As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!
Whump Concept: Ex!wife reader of Bradley Bradshaw is the sonographer at I-med Radiology. You don't know it until you have the clipboard of your next client in your hand. Its marked BradshawâŠ.for a 12 week pregnancy scan.
Rooster is having a baby after years of telling you point blank he never wanted kids. Turns out he just didn't want kids with you.
Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Seventeen
A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic
Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and youâre desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bobâs wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?Â
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!ReaderÂ
Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, smut, angst
Chapter summary: Ducky and Jake rekindle their physical romance
WC: 1.6K
Masterlist here; previous chapter here
You fiddled with the strap of your dress.Â
You felt silly. You had felt silly buying it â a silky midi dress that dipped low in the back with a folded cowl neck, a slit up the side that let you move seamlessly.Â
And the fact that it was a deep, savory red. Like Jake had requested.Â
You left your hair down, and applied a thin layer of pale pink lipstick, fingers shaking as you slipped on a pair of kitten heels, taking a deep breath before exiting your bedroom.Â
Jake swiveled as soon as he heard the door creak open, green eyes wide with excitement.Â
âDamn,â he whispered.Â
You shook your head. âStop.âÂ
âWoman, youâre hot, let me at least fawn over you for a moment.âÂ
âIâm wearing two pairs of underwear that go all the way to my boobs.âÂ
He grinned. âStop trying to turn me on.â
You held out your hand and Jake took it, wrapping his warm fingers around yours. âCome on mama. Got a surprise.âÂ
***
Jakeâs surprise was a restaurant where they put the tables in the ocean, so your feet dangled in the water. You laughed as he bent down, hiking up the edges of his pants before pulling your heels off, one by one.Â
âWell?â he asked, taking a sip of his martini. Your mouth watered for gin as you opted for sparkling water.Â
âThis is just an excuse for you to show me your calves, isnât it?â You nodded toward his rolled up trousers.Â
He flexed his toes, forcing his calf muscles to contract. âYou know it.âÂ
âItâs perfect.âÂ
âSo youâve got a foot AND calf fetish? I learn something new every day.âÂ
âIs this where you take all the ladies? Make them fall in love with your sexy legs?âÂ
Jake nodded. âYes it is. And then on a second date I wear those cargo pants where they zip off under the knee to really get in a good show.âÂ
You tilted your head. âI mean it, Jake. Is this your spot? How many times have you brought girls here?âÂ
âIncluding tonight?â You nodded. âOnce.âÂ
âBe serious.âÂ
âI am.â He reached across the table, folding his fingers over yours. âNothing about being with you is like anything Iâve done before.âÂ
âSo you donât have ten baby mamas running around San Diego?âÂ
Jake slipped his fingers between yours, the heel of your palm resting on the cold table. It took every ounce of courage you had to look up at him. His face was soft, golden.Â
And honest.Â
âThereâs no one else,â he whispered. âNot now. And I donât think there will ever be anyone else.âÂ
âYou canât say that for sure.âÂ
âMaybe I can.âÂ
***
âHave you told mom?âÂ
You frowned from the passenger seat. âNo. Did you?âÂ
Bob shook his head tightly, turning back to face the road. âNo. But you should. You canât hide it forever.âÂ
âWe both know she doesnât leave Tennessee. No chance sheâs going to surprise us here.âÂ
âShe deserves to know, Ducky.âÂ
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, which was getting harder by the day. âDo we have time to stop for a milkshake?âÂ
âI see you changing the topic. And yes, if weâre quick. I told Sena Iâd pick her up for dinner.âÂ
âIs it serious?â you asked as Bob pulled into the drive thru and ordered your favorite â a vanilla milkshake, extra whipped cream. The baby flopped around inside of your stomach, expectantly.
âI like her a lot,â he whispered.Â
âI want you to be happy, Bobby,â you replied, laying a hand on his arm.Â
He turned to you. âThatâs all I want for you, too, Ducky.âÂ
âSo give Jake a chance?âÂ
He grunted. âI donât know why you had to choose Hangman of all people to have a baby with.âÂ
âChoice makes it sound planned,â you said, unfurling the straw from its paper confines and taking a frosty sip. âAnd heâs a good guy. Iâd like for you to give him a chance.âÂ
âI think you forget he was my friend first.âÂ
âFriend? More like enemy.âÂ
âWhatever.âÂ
âNot whatever. Jake is going to be in your life, for the rest of time. Unless youâre walking away from us.â You placed your hands on your belly.Â
Bob slid the car into stop at the red light and turned to you. âWalking away from you is the last thing Iâm ever going to do.âÂ
âThen you need to figure out how to be OK with Jake being in our lives.âÂ
âFine,â he replied through gritted teeth, pulling into the intersection and taking a left. âIâll try.âÂ
âAre you ever going to tell me why the two of you have beef?âÂ
Bob refused to match your gaze. âThatâs something Jake should tell you.âÂ
***
âOw, ow, ow!â You rolled over, lifting the hem of your camisole. âHoney, please, Iâm trying to sleep. Kick me tomorrow after Iâve had breakfast, alright?âÂ
Despite the fact that you knew from the books that babies develop ears by ten weeks, your daughter decided she was already having a teenage meltdown and wouldnât listen. Thatâs how you found yourself pacing around the living room at three in the morning, hands rubbing your belly methodically.Â
You were so caught up in the incessant kicking that you didnât even hear Jakeâs door open. âY/N?âÂ
He stood in the doorway to the living room, rubbing one eye, ridiculous six-pack on full display in just a pair of gray sweats.Â
âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
âCanât sleep,â you huffed. âSheâs kicking me.âÂ
âThatâs a good thing, right?âÂ
âSheâs treating my ribcage like itâs a goal and sheâs Mia Hamm. No Jake, at this very moment, itâs not great.âÂ
âHere, sit down and Iâll make you some tea.âÂ
You sat down on the couch, wiggling left and right to try and get comfortable. Jake emerged a few minutes later, holding out a warm cup of peppermint tea that you sipped on gently, letting the steam open your pores.Â
âWhat can I do?â he asked.Â
âDistract me.âÂ
âWith what?âÂ
âA story.â You flinched. âAnything. Your favorite vacation. Favorite ice cream flavor. Best sex.âÂ
âGreece, I was fifteen. Chocolate peanut butter. You.âÂ
You threw a pillow at him. âIâm serious!âÂ
He laughed. âMaybe I am, too. Did you ever think of that?âÂ
You frowned, the laughter dying in the air. âIt was one time, Jake.âÂ
âTwo times if I remember correctly.â You rolled your eyes. âAnd I think it means more when you care about someone.âÂ
âWe didnât even know each other.âÂ
âWell now I know you,â he said quietly. âAnd that makes it the best in my book.âÂ
Finally, the baby stopped kicking. You signed with relief, practically euphoric. âOh my God, thank you.âÂ
âYouâre welcome for the great sex.âÂ
You flopped back onto the couch. âShut up. She stopped kicking. I can finally sleep.âÂ
âYou should go back to bed.âÂ
âI canât move. Iâm a whale with no legs.âÂ
Before you could even protest, Jake had his fingertips rolled beneath your hips and lower back, tugging you into his arms as if you weighed five pounds. His green eyes never left yours as he carried you silently through the apartment, pressing open the door with his foot, setting you down gently on your queen-sized bed.Â
There was a moment where Jake removed his fingertips from beneath you, but his golden face was hovering close enough. You reached out, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging him in closer, pressing his lips to yours. He practically groaned into your mouth as you slid your tongue between his lips. Jakeâs hands slipped down, running over your bare arms, one hand palming your breast over your silky tank top.Â
Before you could even think, you rolled over on top of Jake, straddling his hips, hands pressed against his bare chest. His fingertips found your hips, holding you in place.Â
âGod, youâre beautiful.âÂ
âIâm enormous.âÂ
Jake shook his head. âNo, youâre fucking gorgeous.â He paused. âCan I?âÂ
You nodded and he lifted the hem of your shirt, pressing his large, warm hands against the stretched expanse of your belly. You watched his eyes widen as he traced across your stomach, holding you.Â
âJake?âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âTouch me.âÂ
He frowned. âI am?âÂ
âTouch me.â
His eyes turned into saucers. Gently, you rolled off of Jake, settling back against the mattress. He slid his lips across your throat. âWhere do you want me baby?âÂ
âEverywhere.âÂ
You let out a breathy moan as Jake slid further down the bed, nails scraping gently at your skin as he tugged your silky shorts down your legs, exposing your wet core. And the second you felt his mouth against you, both of your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips, holding you down, you let go. Gave in to the waves of pleasure as Jakeâs tongue worked you to a high, your moan delving into a screech as you came across his face, your hands threaded into his hair, holding him close.Â
âOh my God.âÂ
Jake grinned, his hands still holding your thighs apart. Slowly, he pushed himself onto his knees, your legs falling to either side of him. You could see, easily, through his sweatpants to how hard he was. It made your insides squeeze.Â
âIâm scared,â you whispered.Â
âWhy are you scared?âÂ
âWhat if it feels different?â you asked. âOr God forbid the baby feels it.â You paused. âOr you hate having sex with me when Iâm this huge.âÂ
To your surprise, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your belly. âIt might be different,â he said softly. âI read that one book and it didnât say anything about the baby being able to feel it, so donât think youâre traumatizing our kid this early.â You smiled. âAs for you? Youâre the most beautiful girl Iâve ever known. Now more than ever.âÂ
âYouâre just saying that to get into my nonexistent pants.âÂ
He shook his head. âBelieve whatever you want, Y/N. But deep down, I know that you know Iâm into you.âÂ
âGo slow, OK?âÂ
You had been so drunk the first time you and Jake slept together. Even now, it only came in small, fragmented waves of memory.Â
This time, everything was different. The way he held your hip gently as he eased himself against your folds, the nudge of his cock against your entrance, your small gasp as he pushed himself inside, bare, for the first time in however many months.Â
How gentle Jake was as he pressed against your walls, making sure you were comfortable before reaching down, sliding your butt closer toward him, his length hitting against your front wall, causing you to groan.Â
It was the way Jake held your hand above your head as he pumped inside of you, slowly, methodically, his lips hot against your throat, his other arm wrapped around your back, holding you close.Â
When you came around him, his eyes were glued on yours, his mouth open in a wail as he let himself go inside of you, thrusting hard, twice, before his chest was heaving, fingertips still gripping your hips tightly.Â
The two of you lay on top of the bed covers, sweat drying across your skin. You turned to Jake, pressing one hand against his cheek. âBefore we do this again,â you whispered, âbefore anything else happens, I need you to tell me something.âÂ
He frowned. âAnything.âÂ
âWhat happened between you and Bobby?âÂ
Jake froze.Â
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