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My Future in You | 2.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.
Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, bradley being a nervous first time daddy, wc: 3.8k
…
“This… doesn’t look right.” Bradley pulls back and rests his hands against his hips, staring at the car seat with an unimpressed gaze frown.
“Sure it does.” You answer, peering around him to examine the situation in front of you. The straps are secure at the top of his chest, his plush cheek resting against the padded restraints.
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look comfortable.” Bradley answers you with a shake of his head. This is his second practice of the day. He doesn’t want Tom to be in the car seat too long, but he knows that his most significant job in all of this is getting the two of you home safe.
He leans forwards and begins to fiddle with the straps again. Your newborn doesn’t seem fussed by his neurotic, worried dad anyways. Bradley hums. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll figure it out.”
“The Bradshaws! — How are we this morning?”
This, Thomas is fussed by. Over the last six days, the first six of his life, you’ve figured that your son has some pretty sharp reflexes. Even just blowing on his cheek makes him flinch. He jumps, arms and legs tensing at once, his still unfocused eyes blowing wide open as the doctor strolls into the room.
His lip begins to wobble and his nose scrunches up tight, his hands trembling under the confines of his mittens. You nudge Bradley out of the way and unclasp the straps right as Thomas begins to cry.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to spook this little sweetheart.” The doctor is smiling and reaching out to tickle the infant’s back and on your end, everything is forgiven. Bradley, however, glares at her as he reaches his son.
You hadn’t been expecting the same guy who once jumped off of the roof of a neighbouring frat house and into their pool to be such a nervous nelly when it came to parenthood. Especially not the same guy who told you he wanted no part in any of this.
You roll your eyes, rocking softly, shushing the baby. These past six days have taught you a lot of things. That the birthmark on the bottom of Thomas’ back is kind of the shape of Italy. That even though he can’t see much yet, he likes to look around while he’s being fed. That Bradley is not fast enough at changing diapers yet to avoid getting peed on.
That somehow, you and Bradley might have just created the most perfect little boy in the entire world. With his thatches of brown hair and his tiny fingers and toes, his sloped nose and poured lips. Those funny, jumpy reflexes.
“I’m just here to do some tests, see if we can get you guys home today.” She tells you with a bright smile. From the way that your face changes, she can tell that this is the news that you’ve been waiting for. Six days of barely walking, hearing other people’s babies screaming — you’ve been ready to go home for a while.
“Today? — Nobody said today. They said tomorrow.” Bradley interjects loudly. You scowl across at him and he shuts up, but the nervous way he fidgets on his feet tells you everything you need to know.
“I know, I know. But he’s doing just fine so far, and I’m sure you two are eager to sleep in your own beds again.” The doctor coos softly, learning from her initial mistake as she takes the baby from your arms. She follows your pattern of soothing and rocking and Thomas seems to consider quietening down.
Bradley pushes his hands into the pockets of his sweat shorts and just leans back against the end of the hospital bed. He’s so focused on watching this stranger with your baby that he doesn’t even hear you move until you’re pressing in against his side.
“You’re doing fine.” You promise him, stretching your open palm against the fabric of his black t-shirt, stretching your neck to look at him. “Stop stressing.”
He doesn’t say anything, and that worried frown on his face doesn’t soften either. Bradley swallows, brushes a hand over his upper lip and reaches out for you. You close
Your eyes as he secures an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, leaning down and resting his mouth against the top of your head.
He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and hospital borrowed soap.
“She called you a Bradshaw, you know.” He whispers finally, just before he straightens back up. You scoff, jabbing the tip of your index finger into his side.
“Don’t get any ideas, Pops. It’s bad enough you talked me into letting Tommy take your name.” You’re joking, of course. The amusement in your voice makes his chest feel that little bit less tight. You’ll say yes, one day. He’ll make sure it’s special and you’re not giving birth next time, and you’ll say yes.
He pinches your side playfully and tugs you closer again. “Pops? — I thought we agreed on you calling me—“
He grunts as you jerk your elbow back into his stomach, just enough to make him jolt but not enough to actually hurt the idiot you’ve come to be so fond of. There it is, he grins behind you, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle.
Minutes later, the doctor turns around to you and gives you the go-ahead. Suddenly, the little boy in the roomy onesie is all yours, and yours alone. Well, not that suddenly, there’s paperwork first. But sudden feels the only appropriate word when you’re walking out of the hospital, with no one to guide you.
Bradley’s knuckles are white around the handle of the car seat in his right hand, a slightly softer approach to the way that he’s holding your hand in his left.
“You’re sure you can walk? — They said you could have a chair, if you want a chair.” He checks, for the second time since you stepped out of the elevator.
“I’m fine.” You give his hand a soft squeeze and groan softly as you step out into the mid-summer suffocation of the Florida heat. “Now walk with purpose. It’s too hot for this.”
Settled into the backseat beside Thomas, sleeping in his car seat, you catch Bradley frowning worriedly back at the both of you before he turns the key in the ignition.
The drive home is slow, and uneventful. The baby is asleep. Bradley’s eyes are trained seriously on the road, his hands holding a steady ten and two position on the wheel. You don’t dare suggest that he turns on the radio.
There were plenty of things that you had prepared yourself for when you had decided to have your baby. Your body changing, fine. Your career plans changing, okay. The hormones and the responsibilities and the tiny human who would depend on you for probably the rest of your life, sure.
Some things about such a drastic lifestyle change simply cannot be planned for.
Nine hours ago, you brought your son home from the hospital. This is something that you would never admit out loud, but in those last few days of your pregnancy, the concern had flooded your mind that maybe your feelings for Bradley were purely hormonal. You were carrying his child, it makes sense that your body would want him around. It was the after that had concerned you.
But, you had watched today as Bradley had carried the car seat in one hand and secured you by his side with the other. He had buckled your son into the car, and he had driven home under the speed limit the entire way.
You exhale softly as you step out of the shower. That’s growing easier now, six days later, but your body is far from healed. Your legs still tremble when you try to stand too long, and your back aches in a way you’re starting to worry might be permanent.
It’s quiet in your apartment now. You listen out as you towel dry your body, trying to find the pitch of a sports narrator or some soft music — anything. It’s almost dead silent.
You wriggle into your pyjamas and wrap your wet hair, walking slow out of the bathroom and down the hall. You’re barely dry, your warm feet padding along the carpet, wrinkled fingers pushing open the door to the bedroom.
One of the things that none of the articles you had read seemed to mention, is what to do the first time that you see the father of your child at home with your baby.
Bradley’s sitting up against the pillows with Thomas nestled against his chest. His hand eclipses the infant’s torso as he pats his back softly. Thomas’ cheek is resting against Bradley’s pectoral, you can’t see from where you are but instinct and your son’s uncharacteristic stillness tells you that he’s sleeping.
Bradley’s singing. He’s patting the baby’s back gently and he’s singing softly, trying hard to push the usually deep rumble of his voice into lullaby territory.
Your mouth falls slack, cold feet becoming still against the soft floor. This tiny first apartment and its discernible wooden doors that creak at every opportunity give you away and he stops just as quickly as he is perceived.
His gaze flickers up and his lips twist softly into a small smile. You watch him take account of your matching maternity pyjamas which threaten to be too big without the stretch of your bump. Amusement floods the hint of the smile on his lips — he loves to laugh at these pyjamas.
His hand stills against Thomas’ back, those glittery brown eyes flicker up to study the look on your face.
“Hey, babe,” He hums, keeping his voice low so that he doesn’t startle the baby. “How was your shower?”
“I didn’t think I would miss our shitty water pressure, but I’m just so glad we’re not at the hospital anymore.” You pad across the carpet towards him and crawl into bed, pulling back the sheets and draping yourself across Bradley’s brawny thighs.
He looks down at you and secures the infant close to his chest, freeing one hand to brush tenderly across your cheek.
“What was that song were you singing him?” You ask. The ceiling fan whirs above you like a thrumming, excessively loud lullaby. The warmth of his thigh props up your cheek.
There’s something about it all that feels too much like a dream. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The NICU isn’t exactly a luxury retreat, despite its price point. Tonight is your first night home from the hospital. Your son is six days old and yesterday, he officially crossed the threshold into five pound territory. Tonight, he’s huddled against Bradley’s bare chest, wearing a diaper that had seemed too tiny for an actual human to wear and zipped into a onesie printed with little ducks on it. Geese, maybe, actually.
You lift your hand and reach out, watching your fingertip follow the soft cotton covering those wrinkled lines on the sole of Thomas’ foot that you’ve come to be so familiar with already.
The infant curls his toes and unclenches them again, scrunching his knees. Bradley watches, lips twisted into a smile that he couldn’t fight back if he tried.
There’s something about the steady, heavy thrum of Bradley’s heartbeat that puts the kid right to sleep. The warm bath and the ounce of milk that came before he was set on his dad’s stomach may have helped too. Bradley’s hand cups the back of Thomas’ neck, keeping the sleeping baby steady.
“Wildflowers by, uh— Tom Petty, I think?” Bradley shrugs. In truth, he knows the song inside and out — it was the first song he learned to play on piano. He’s used to playing that down. Girls find guitars hot, not his years of classical piano lessons.
You smile, lifting your head and pressing a gentle kiss to the sole of the baby’s foot, soft blue cottons
against your lips. Then, you lower your mouth and press it softly to Bradley’s stomach. Just once, before you drop your head back down and set it against his thigh.
“He’s so good, and I’m still exhausted.” You murmur, exhaling deeply. Behind heavy lids, you make a mental note to look into which ingredient in the smell of baby soap acts as such a good sleeping agent.
“You should sleep. He’ll be up again in a couple of hours.” Bradley reminds you, stroking damp hair back off of your forehead. Closing your eyes, you nod with him, but make no effort to move. He smiles. “Come on, I don’t need to sing the both of you to sleep, do I?”
You huff a soft sound of amusement, giving a small shake of your head. “Not tonight, Pops. Put him to bed, let’s get some sleep.”
Bradley chuckles, carefully shifting your son off of his stomach and instead laying him across his thighs as you sit up.
“Mom and Dad… isn’t that crazy?” He muses, stroking his thumb across the soft hair on the infant’s head. Thomas is still so small that Bradley’s palm makes him look even tinier. You lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder and stroke the baby’s cheek.
“I know.” You agree quietly.
Big, round cheeks and pursed lips, dark eyelashes and a soft little nose. His tiny hands balled into fists, his knees curled up to his middle. Blue clouds adorning his onesie. Half you, and half Bradley.
“Alright, we’ll see you in a couple hours, little man. Yell if you need something.” Bradley half jokes as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns to set the baby into the bassinet. With the lung capacity he has already impressed you with, you know that he’ll have no issues letting you know if he wants something.
He crawls back into bed beside you and flicks the beside lamp off, pulling the covers up around the two of you. Readily, you press yourself close to him and close your eyes. He smells like baby soap.
“Are you still hurting anywhere?” Bradley’s voice lowers to a whisper now, his breath fanning across the nape of your neck as he leans his head into the crook of your shoulder and cautiously rests a hand against your hip. Into the dark, your mouth twitches at a smile.
Your hips feel both squished and torn apart at the same time. Your back feels like it might never feel quite right ever again. But even with him a cautious distance from you, you can feel the perpetual warmth from his body.
“Everywhere. But I still want you to hold me.”
Slowly, he slides an arm under you and another over you. Draping his body around yours, he pulls you close and suddenly you get whatever it is that sends Thomas off to sleep so easily. The faint musky smell of his fading cologne. The steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat. The long, deep pattern of his breathing.
Just when you think he has beat you to it, he reminds you that he’s still awake. A soft, chaste kiss presses to your throat, his voice low as he mumbles, “I love you.”
As much as Thomas is a good baby; he’s still a baby. A small one at that, with plenty of growing to do. Even now, he just about finishes an ounce of milk at a time — half of the time. That means a lot of wake ups. A lot of diaper changes with your eyes half open.
The first four days of parenthood pass you by before you’ve really come to terms with the reality of it all. Constant feeds through the night, surviving off of instant noodles and pizza — all of this doesn’t feel too far of a stretch from your recent college days.
But it’s harder now. The responsibilities are never ending. It’s hard to remain rational about any of it.
“If you could breastfeed, would you do it?”
From the other end of the couch, Bradley seems to startle awake. Brows drawing together in confusion, he stares across your dimly lit living room at you, then takes a second to look around him.
You’re at the end of the movie now, so he doesn’t have a clue how long he has been sleeping. Stretching his legs out, he sighs softly, “Yeah. I guess so.”
Your mouth twitches at the fact that he doesn’t even ask you why. He blinks softly and brings both hands up to rub at his eyes tiredly.
“What time is it?”
“Two, maybe.” You shrug, watching Thomas’ eyelids grow heavy. His hands remain balled and tucked in against his chest. He has spent these past four days stretching out occasionally, scrunching himself back into a tight ball frequently.
“No fucking way did I just sleep for four hours. The movie’s still playing.” Bradley protests, awkwardly fumbling to push himself upright and puckering his mouth into a deep frown. You just shrug across at him once more.
“I put the sequel on after you fell asleep.”
He hadn’t ever thought he would be able to have a regular conversation with a woman who had her breast out in front of him, but here he is. It doesn’t even cross his mind to check you out. The only thing he’s thinking about is the fact you’re running on maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep and all you had wanted was to watch your movie with him. And he had fallen asleep.
He fumbles around, checking his pockets for his phone, finding it instead resting between his jaw and shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment as he checks the time. In the split second that your eyes are shut, Thomas makes a spluttering sound.
As quickly as you can lift and turn him, the has already spit the last mouthful of milk back against your skin and all down his chin.
“Oh, Tommy…” You groan, adjusting the strap of your nursing bra with one hand as you support him with the other.
“Here, I’ll take him.” Bradley offers, pushing himself up and starting to scoot towards you.
“We’re fine.” Maybe it comes out a little bit harsh, maybe your tone is a little colder than normal. Bradley frowns at you, sitting still at the opposite end of the sectional. “Just go back to sleep.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to—“
“I know you didn’t.” You’re just doubling down at this point as you wipe at Thomas’ mouth with a muslin cloth. Bradley’s brows draw together a bit.
“So why are you mad at me? — Just let me help you.” He pushes forwards again and reaches for your son.
“I said we’re fine!” You bite back. The baby flinches and quickly starts to scream. You slam your eyes shut, darkness behind your lids and a dull ache drilling from your temples to the core of your brain.
Opposite you, Bradley sighs, dropping his head forward into his hands. You’re both silent. The sequel plays on. The baby keeps on screaming. Neither one of you look at each other.
This is what all new parents go through, you know that. It doesn’t make it any less sore in the moment.
“What should I do?” Bradley asks finally, pushing up from the sofa and squeezing against your side, wrapping an arm around your aching shoulders. It’s not worth dragging your eyes open for.
“Never get me pregnant again, for starters.” You mutter half-jokingly. Bradley chuckles at your side and turns his head to kiss at those sore temples, like he can feel where it hurts. Maybe those dad-senses are sharper than you give him credit for.
“Not even once more? — But look how cute the first one wa—“ He’s only joking of course, but he still has the good sense to shut up when you turn your head and glare at him. He grins, and he looks just like he did the first time you were stupid enough to melt for that pretty look.
“You hungry?” Bradley asks. He read somewhere that breastfeeding can cause stronger appetites.
“Yeah.”
“Dad’s got it. We’ll be right back.” Bradley promises you, dipping forwards and kissing your temple once more, stealing the baby in one fell swoop. “Come on, buddy.”
Bradley pads into the kitchen barefoot, bouncing the baby in his arms and you let your eyes fall shut once more. You’re only two weeks in. They don’t start sleeping through the night for another couple months at least — sometimes years. You don’t know how you could do another couple years of being this delirious.
Closing your eyes, it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re not here. That you’re still in school, or still in your parents’ house. Somewhere safer, where you could hide from the limited responsibilities that you had back then. It would be so easy to drift off into a dream about life being that easy again.
Instead, the sofa dips at your side and your boys are back. Bradley announces himself by kissing your cheek softly and pressing a spoon into your hand.
“All we have is Ice-Cream.” He tells you, settling Thomas into the crook of his elbow and passing the tub of ice cream off to you. You blink at the vanilla flavoured frozen treat in front of you, then look up to stare at him. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. We’ll both go. You can stay here and sleep in.”
You look away for just a second, digging the tip of your spoon into the ice cream, and hear him continue.
“We can get whatever we want, Mommy won’t be there to tell us no.”
Despite your best efforts, a smile itches its way across your face. You turn your head and attempt to force at a scowl. All five of Thomas’ right-hand fingers are wrapped around Bradley’s little finger, they both seem to be looking at you.
“I don’t care what you come home with as long as there’s more of this stuff in there somewhere.” You decide, slipping a spoonful into your mouth and savouring the flavour on your tongue. Bradley shifts, leaning his head against yours.
“Share.” He demands, leaving his mouth open. You snuff your nose at him as you dig another spoonful from the tub and shovel it into his mouth. “That’s so good.”
“Probably not what we should be eating. We aren’t setting a very good example.” You hum, ignoring your own advice and gulping down another spoonful, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table.
If only your mother could see you now. She would lose her marbles if she saw your approach to motherhood.
“Eh, this kid pees himself all day long. We’ll start being good examples for him later on.” Bradley shrugs, leaning his weight into you, turning his attention back to the tv. “So can you explain to me what I missed?”
…
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240125 : 🫧 pm
#heeeeeee MFJFJFJ#silly 🫶#he always says his eyes look super small with those glasses on#he said seongmin walked in and said there's something wrong .. and so ruby took off his glasses and seongmin was like ! yep that was it MFII#crying he is so blind#woobin#seo woobin#cravity#🫧 pm#selca#240125
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reccomend some of your fave smutty fics and/or one shots for the girlies?
anything by
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มฟล.-ธ.ออมสินหนุน นศ.ร่วมวิสาหกิจกรรมชุมชนจัดโครงการพัฒนาภูมิปัญญาท้องถิ่น
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มฟล.-ธ.ออมสินหนุน นศ.ร่วมวิสาหกิจกรรมชุมชนจัดโครงการพัฒนาภูมิปัญญาท้องถิ่น
วันพุธ ที่ 19 ตุลาคม พ.ศ. 2565, 13.07 น.
วันที่ 19 ต.ค.65 มหาวิทยาลัยแม่ฟ้าหลวง (มฟล.) โดยส่วนจัดการทรัพย์สินทางปัญญาและนวัตกรรม (MFii) ร่วมกับ ธนาคารออมสินภาค 9 จัดกิจกรรมเสริมสร้างและพัฒนาภูมิปัญญาท้องถิ่น ประจำปี 2565…
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Manu Crooks & Hooligan Hefs Link Up On "Don't Cross The Line"
Manu Crooks & Hooligan Hefs Link Up On "Don't Cross The Line" | @manucrooks
The year is off to a flying start (quite literally) for Manu Crooks, who’s joined forces with fellow hip hop heavyweight Hooligan Hefs for a brilliantly understated single, “Don’t Cross The Line”. Directed by Jaen Collective (Skeggs, B Wise, Jesswar), the track’s sweeping visuals feature Crooks perched atop an aircraft, as the Sydney rappers exchange verses over sparse, shimmering guitar, and…
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We picked up some awesome new #pokemon figures such as this posable #scizor and #megaconstrux #squirtle and #krabby ! A couple new #pokemontcg goodies too such as this #pokemonrubyandsapphire era binder and new #inteleon League Battle Deck! Have #pokemoncards been easier to find in your stores lately? Check out our awesome #gaming partners! @nintendo_entertainer @nintendo_world_18 @nintendocam @woody2610 @8bitfellow @allisonsav_nintendo_queen @_briofhyrule_ @nightram56 #pokemongo #nintendo #gamefreak #arcanine #kanto #jazwares https://www.instagram.com/p/CQvFXR-MfiI/?utm_medium=tumblr
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My Future in You | 2.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Previous | Next | Masterlist
synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.
warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications, smut, unprotected pinv, oral (f receiving) , wc: 6.2k
…
“Hey, Bradshaw,” He looks up from his locker, brows raised as he cranes his neck to look over his shoulder. Ames, one of his new acquaintances from flight school, is about six steps away and the one speaking. Bradley gives him a small nod of acknowledgement as he reaches for his clothes. “Is it true you’ve got a kid on the way?”
Being as young as he is, and straight out of college, Bradley understands the surprise. He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s about to be a dad, but it’s not something that he advertises at work. He doesn’t advertise much about his life at work. Truthfully, his only goal is to get through flight school without any trouble.
“Uh-huh.” Bradley steps into his boxers and unwraps the towel from around his waist, draping it over his shoulder.
“That’s crazy,” Ames chuckles from behind him, shaking his head amusedly. Bradley shakes out his wet curls. Eight months ago, he would have agreed. “So, you’re getting married, then?”
Bradley scoffs. Even if you can manage to ignore that thick accent, Ames finds a way to remind everyone that he’s from the middle of Buttfuck-Nowhere, Kentucky. Stepping into his issued khakis, Bradley turns his head once more to find that most eyes are on him now.
“No?” He answers, tone incredulous. He’s not sure why everyone’s first reaction when they find out that the two of you are having a kid is to ask when the wedding is. Seems a little outdated. It’s not something that you’ve discussed. Or even something that he has really considered.
“Man,” Ames laughs from behind him as Bradley pulls his white t-shirt over his head. “I can’t imagine being stuck with the same pussy for the rest of my life.”
Halfway through tucking his shirt into his pants, Bradley stops, and turns towards his new colleague. He inhales slowly, blinking twice at the red headed asshole who just made the mistake of making that comment.
This is his career on the line, sure — everything that he’s spent his entire life working towards. But it’s not just that. This is medical, it’s security, it’s going to make sure his kid is okay for the rest of his life. It’s not worth throwing that little weasel on the ground and making him shut his mouth.
He exhales, then winds his face into a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe once you lose your virginity you’ll feel differently, buddy.”
The heavy silence in the locker room is broken by a round of laughs, and the mocking immediately begins. Ames groans, trying to quieten the jokes at his expense. Bradley pulls his khaki shirt on, buttons it swiftly and grabs his bag to leave.
His boots thud along the halls, not stopping for anybody as he heads for his truck. It wasn’t that long ago that he was in the locker room at college, listening to this same shit without batting an eyelid. Hell, when you first came to him, he was the one saying it.
He slips into the driver’s side and drives home. There’s no making up for how much of an asshole he was, not that long ago. He probably still is, or still could be — but his kid won’t be.
“Seresin!” Your eyes widen at the sound of him swinging the front door open and letting it slam closed behind him. Dropping the screws, your body tenses.
“Shit, shit, shit…” You whisper, abandoning the screws on the floor. With how round you’re feeling, bending over to get them at this point is quite simply not an option.
If he’s looking down at his phone, there’s a chance that he won’t even notice you. You slow yourself at first, quieting your footsteps along the floor as much as you can.
“Hey! — I thought I told you to stay in bed.”
You groan in frustration, one hand on your bump, busted. Footsteps behind you tell you that Bradley is not only home from work early, but he is also ready to enforce the bed rest rule again for another day. Pretending that you hadn’t heard him is becoming a more and more frequent issue, as you continue along the hallway and into the nursery.
“I’m talking to you, Seresin,” Bradley drops his bag by the door and starts after you. His eyes widen as you speed up, unsteady on your feet and leaning back under the weight of your ever-growing belly. “Are you seriously going to make me chase you?”
Admittedly, the idea makes you laugh as you swing the door to the nursery shut behind you, just to slow him down. He swings it back open and steps in after you, brows knitted together in concern. “Come on, we had a deal.”
The deal being that you would rest as much as you can and call him when you need something, and he’d take care of everything that needed to be done. You’d just been so bored. It’s been days of this. Sure, the first day, you welcomed it. You’d had blood tests the day before and were tired. By now, you’re about to start pulling your own hair out without some kind of stimuli.
“Fuck your deal,” Out of breath from your six steps of speed walking, you pant at him, lips quirked through your fading irritation as you brace one hand on the wall to lower yourself to the ground. Bradley looks between you and the torn open flat pack box at your side. “I’m building this crib.”
“I said I’d build it!” Bradley tries to reason, frowning and darting closer at the unsteady way you’re crouching towards the ground.
It’s been a rough couple of days. Reading sounds boring, you can’t stand to watch another second of TV and you hate having to wait until Bradley’s home in case something happens. It’s hard to pretend that you aren’t a little pissed off about it.
“He’s my baby,” You strain, wobbling as you get closer to the floor. You’ve been thinking about him a lot recently. About if he’ll look like you, or more like Bradley, or maybe even your dad. You always heard that Jake looks a lot like your grandfather. “And I want to build his crib. You can help.”
Bradley stands there, lips parted like he’s trying to come up with a way to get you back in bed. He knows that it’s no use, if he was you, he’d be damn near climbing the walls by now. If this kid is anything like you, he’s got his work cut out for him — there are going to be two of you to defy his rules soon enough. After a few moments, he resigns with a sigh.
“Alright,” Bradley breathes out, stepping behind you to help you to the ground before you collide into it. Knowing that he’s got far more experience with this kind of thing than you do, he resigns to being your assistant without argument. “Alright. I’ll help.”
He settles you onto the ground, then grabs the flat pack box, settling it onto the ground in front of you. Tired from work, sure, but he catches sight of the smile on your face and finds himself smiling too.
“I dropped all of the screws in the hallway when I was running from you.”
He looks down at you. You look up at him, face squeezing into an almost apologetic smile. Curls short, mustache trimmed to keep up with regulations, you’re still getting used to seeing his features as much as you have been recently. His lips twitch, almost smiling. He tries not to, trying to be stern. You can see it in those big brown eyes that he thinks this is funny.
“I’ll get ‘em.” Bradley decides with a slow nod.
“Thanks, you’re such a great assistant.” You tease, shooting him a quick wink. Still leaning over you, Bradley’s eyes flicker over every inch of your face before he finally gives in and smiles softly. You’re steadfast, more than happy to play his game of chicken as he leans in so close that you can practically still smell the jet fuel on his clothes.
There’s a long pause of silence again, where he’s just watching you. Wearing maternity shorts and a t-shirt twice your size, sitting on the floor of your son’s nursery.
“Careful. You keep looking at me like that and I’ll build you whatever you want for the rest of our lives.” He tells you with a soft smile on his face, his voice raspy after a day of yelling over the sound of engines.
You blink a few times. Bradley watches you trying to come up with some kind of witty response, and he gives you a couple of seconds to try, but you’re equally relieved when he leans forwards and kisses your mouth. Sliding five fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, pressing closer to you.
He pulls back first, kissing the corner of your mouth and standing upright.
“God, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, Seresin,” Bradley breathes out, shaking his head as he swallows and turns to leave. “Can’t even kiss you without my dick getting hard anymore.”
He’s just gone for a few seconds. He gets around a lot faster than you do these days. But, he stops in the doorway as he’s walking back into the room. “What?”
You set the base of the crib down, looking up at him. Bradley’s lips quirk. He glances down and cups a hand over his half-hard dick, running his palm roughly over it through his khakis.
“Fuck first and we’ll build the crib later?” He offers you in one swift breath, lips quirking up into a grin as you smile back at him. He steps forwards and helps you up from the ground, still careful not to rush you even though his hands are on your ass and his mouth’s on yours from the second that you’re on your feet.
“Fuck yeah.” You agree against his lips.
Working open the buttons on his khakis, kissing him so deeply that it makes you dizzy as he walks you backwards, arms wrapped around you to keep you safe. He’s in just his white t-shirt and slacks by the time you’re at the foot of your bed.
Then, he stops kissing you. Just for a second, taking a moment to really look at your face. Once he’s done, he lifts his hand, eclipsing the nape of your neck, pulling you into him so that he can kiss you again. Up close, your head tips almost all the way back as his lips touch slowly against yours. Brief, disarmingly tender.
You press forwards and kiss him again, harder than he had kissed you. You let him nudge back your jaw so that he can kiss your neck. His strong hands steady you against him, his lips working a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin.
Bradley remembers when you first started hooking up again — how rushed all of those times had been, how desperate he had been to get his hands on every inch of you. His mouth too. He’d been a little rough, maybe, but you hadn’t been complaining.
He knows that you would probably enjoy that again now, but he knows your body. He knows that your hips hurt, even when you won’t admit it to him. He knows your breasts are sensitive, even though you like having his hands on them.
One thing that his mother taught him was to never act like he knows best. He doesn’t. You’d have no idea exactly how considerate he’s being when he touches you, careful to not press too hard on anywhere that’s too sensitive.
Pressing his fingertips lightly into your hips, he turns you around and walks backwards to sit on the edge of your shared bed, peeling his shirt up and over his head. There’s a brief moment where he’s torn between leaning back and taking a look at you, or grabbing hold of you and bringing you close again.
He falls for the latter, grabbing your thighs and pulling you between his legs. Your eyes are on him as he pulls your shorts down your legs, peppering kisses over your thighs and hips.
You swallow softly as he drags your panties down your legs to follow, his hand cupping your dripping sex, two fingers swiping gently through your growing excitement.
Closing your eyes, you exhale softly, anticipation vibrating through your middle, waiting for him to touch you. The feeling of his cool breath on your thighs makes you jolt, instinctively reaching out and grabbing hold of his bare shoulders.
Featherlight, his fingers slide under your t-shirt and guide it upwards. He hums in approval as you take the hint and grab the fabric, tearing it off and letting it fall to the ground with the rest of your clothes.
Tender, he reaches out and curls his fingers around your calf, lifting your leg and planting it beside his thigh on the bed. Now that you’re where he wants you, he grabs your hips to steady you and gets right to work.
As much as you try not to think about how many girls Bradley has slept with, each time he graces you with his tongue between your legs — you’re reminded that you should probably be thanking whichever one of them taught him how to do this.
His tongue trails slowly along your slit, thumbs brushing slow circles on your hips as he trails lightly upward to your clit and stars with a circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Your fingers smooth along the ridges in his shoulder, up along the nape of his neck. You always forget that he doesn’t have long, messy curls anymore. The back is buzzed down to a number two. Bradley groans in approval against your clit as you grab the longer hair at the crown of his head and tug softly.
Working up slowly, he trails his fingers along your middle and cups your breast in his hand, delicate as he kneads the sensitive flesh. You breathe in deeply, squeezing against your hold in his hair as he makes your stomach start to twist into that familiar knot.
Pulling back, he’s careful not to be too abrupt. Kissing your pelvis, your thighs, leaving you with a few teasing nips and licks. You moan out, letting him go finally. He shifts backwards, touching your palms with the tips of his fingers as he does. “C’mere, baby.”
You open your eyes again to look at him. His eyes are hooded, watching you lustfully, begging you into his lap. He watches you hesitate, glancing down at your bump.
In response, he shifts further up the bed and plants his head on the pillows, unbuckling his belt slowly, chest heaving. You watch the muscles in his stomach contort as he kicks the khakis down his legs, dipping two thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shoving them down too.
“Come here,” He looks so desperate, fist wrapped around his swollen cock. He sighs in relief as he lifts his hips just slightly, rocking into the friction his palm provides. His lips quirk softly as he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not above begging, babe.”
Hesitantly, you kneel on the bed before him. His eyes light up, giving you a small nod of encouragement. Walking on your knees towards him, Bradley can’t help but groan. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, letting his tongue dart out to wet his lips.
Always impatient when it comes to getting his hands on you, Bradley sits up swiftly and grabs your hand in his, making you giggle softly. Moving just a little closer, you carefully straddle his thighs, gasping as he drags you closer.
Hands cupping both of your breasts at once, he practically nestles his head between them, kissing each of them first in turn. Then, looking up at you through those thick eyelashes, you briefly catch the wolfish grin on his face before he turns his full attention back to having his mouth on your tits. Kissing, sucking, grazing the underside with a gentle nip every now and again.
Careful not to hurt your over sensitive skin, he’s suddenly soft as he takes your nipple into his mouth, fingers skimming tenderly along your bare waist. He circles each bud with his tongue, taking his time, then peppering them with affectionate kisses. Large hands trail around your waist to meet at the small of your back, then slide swiftly downwards.
Grabbing two handfuls of your ass, he drags you closer again with an eager grunt, squeezing your soft flesh in his hands. Two can play at that game. You grab hold of his broad shoulders, shoving him back down against the pillows.
He looks up at you, grinning, as you lift slowly and replace his hand with yours around the base of his cock. Trailing your soft palm along his length once, twice, and then lowering your hips just enough to guide the tip between your folds.
He inhales sharply, hands sprawling out open along your sheets, eyes dark as he watches you tease him. You watch his eyes follow up to the swell of your pregnant stomach as you rock your hips just slightly, brushing his tip against your clit.
“Oh shit, wait.”
Immediately, his brows knit together as you lurch forwards and lean across him, reaching for the night stand. His hands grab at your waist to steady you, beyond confused as you sit back up with a little box in your hands.
“What the fuck is that?” He frowns at you.
You fight the urge to hit him in the head with the box, because this is exactly how you ended up in this position. Your fingers work open the box as Bradley props himself up on his elbows to investigate. “These are condoms.”
“We haven’t used condoms since — y’know.” Bradley gestures towards your stomach, then looks back up at you again, frowning.
“Exactly. We need to start getting into the routine of using them again.” You tell him calmly. He sits up and grabs at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his warm mouth sucking at the sweet spot on your throat.
“We’ve got three more weeks to practice,” He murmurs, breath tickling your ear between open-mouthed kisses. You shiver, damn near dropping the box. “Come on, baby. You don’t want me to cum in you one last time?”
There’s a pause between the two of you, his fingers squeezing at the flesh of your ass as he sucks a deep kiss into the dip where your shoulder meets your neck.
The box clatters noisily against the wall as you toss it out of your way, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him hard. You pull back, breathless, and narrow your eyes at him, “One last time.”
He grins, nodding his head as you lift your hips to hover over his thick cock. “Fuck, I love you.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. It would be kind of hypocritical, when you’re smiling too. Bracing yourself against his pecs as you lower yourself down onto him, he screws his eyes shut and groans happily. Settling down against his pelvis, you let your head fall back and sigh in relief.
He’s trying to train himself out of grabbing your hips and guiding you where to go, so he reaches down and loops his fingers between yours. As good as he’s being, he can’t help himself from shifting down the bed, spreading his thighs and planting his heels to change the angle that you’re sitting on him.
The next time you lift your hips and come back down, his dick grazes your g-spot perfectly and makes you grip his hands a fraction tighter. Panting out soft moans, you settle into a soft pace, lifting up and sinking down on him again.
The gold cross chain around his neck slides on his chest, calling your eyes to the smooth ridges of his tanned pecs. Bradley watches the way your eyes drink him in, spurred on as he rocks his hips to meet your pace.
The way he watches you is so intimate, like he’s memorizing every inch of your skin. The way you’re coming down on him feels like it’s knocking the breath from your lungs each time, your moans filling the air. His thumbs stroke softly along the backs of your hands. Everything about the way he has learned to fuck you is so perfect, and the adoration in his eyes makes it hard to even look at him sometimes.
You feel sexy. With his eyes on you like this, the way his body responds to you, you feel sexy as you roll your hips into him and he rocks back to match your rhythm. Filling you to the brim, making your orgasm build swiftly in your stomach.
He leaves one of your hands, reaching out instead and catching the nape of your neck, pulling you down against his chest. Your stomach presses firmly into his. He lifts his chin and kisses you.
“You feel so fucking good.” He groans against your mouth, pleased as you moan back in response. Your hands flatten against his toned pecs as you push yourself to sit upright, so that you can ride him harder. His head falls back against the pillows, fingers pressing into your thighs. “Fuck.”
Bradley wets his lips with his tongue, eyes unashamedly darting from your tits to your face as they bounce in front of him. His brows draw tightly together and you feel him shift, pressing his heels harder into the mattress, fingers marking into the soft skin of your thighs.
A muscle ticks in his jaw before he inhales sharply, trying not to focus on how close he feels like he is. It’s not like you aren’t close too. Just a little more. He bites hard on his bottom lip as your palms trail down to rest against his toned stomach and lift almost all the way up.
His gaze falls down, watching his length disappear inside of you once again, bucking his hips up hard to meet you as you come down on him. The buzz rips through you, your arms going weak as the feeling rushes through your body. Bradley wraps both arms around your middle as you collapse against his chest, continuing to rock his hips upwards as he chases his own high. The feeling seizes you, buzzing through your middle and all the way down into your core, thighs clenching around his hips, walls squeezing around him.
Bradley holds the back of your neck, keeping you close against him as he spills inside of you with a desperate grunt. His body shudders, exhaling deeply before he turns his head towards your jaw and kissing your skin once softly.
“Fuck me,” Bradley pants, brushing a hand softly over your messy hair, kissing your cheek. Briefly, Ames crosses his mind. He really wouldn’t mind this for the rest of his life. “How was that? — You okay?”
“Good,” You smile breathlessly, resting your head against his chest, hiding your face in his neck. “So good.”
You lift your hips and let him slip out of you but stay safely tucked against his chest for a while longer, just letting the two of you both catch your breaths. His fingers trail absently along the bare length of your spine.
“Hey, Bradley?” You hum, kissing softly at his throat.
“Hm?”
“We’ve still got a crib to build.” You remind him delicately, smiling as you feel his groan vibrate through his chest.
Soon enough, you’re up and both sitting on the nursery floor in your pajamas, staring silently at the instructions. Three and a half hours later, and a band-aid on Bradley’s beat up thumb, you’ve got a crib.
Bradley had heard of nesting, and he had been trying to prepare for it — but he didn’t think it would be as fun as this. Getting to sit on the ground with his best friend and playfully bicker over Part A and Screw C for almost four hours. Then, sliding into bed beside you and feeling you sleep more soundly than you have in days.
The results from the blood work were a good thing, it’s not Fetal Growth Syndrome, but you’re not out of the woods yet. He’s still behind where he’s supposed to be and now you’ve got no answers as to why. He knows that it’s been keeping you up.
So, if happily bending to your each and every whim is what gets you to finally rest, Bradley’s okay with doing that for the next few weeks until he gets to meet his kid.
The next morning, you wake up with him all over you again. He fucks you slowly, both of you laying on your sides, barely awake but smiling softly. Then, he begrudgingly gets up and starts to get ready for work. He hates leaving you naked in his bed in the mornings. If it was up to him, he’d lay there with you until the afternoon.
“I love you,” Bradley tells you, grinning as he darts forwards to press one last kiss to your cheek. As much as he enjoys watching the sky turn from burning orange to soaring blue over the runway, he’s sure that nothing will ever beat the sight of you in the first bed you ever shared, with one hand on your stomach, smiling up at him like this. He beams, leaning down and pressing his lips to your belly, just below your navel. “Both. I love you both.”
You lift your foot and kick softly at his thigh, “You’re gonna be late for work.”
As you push him away, he comes right back again, kissing your mouth like he’s taking in a breath of air. “I know, I know. But, I’ve got this girl at home who won’t listen to a thing I tell her, and how am I supposed to concentrate on, y’know, saving the world if I’m so worried about the troublemaker I’ve got at home?”
“You’re an idiot.” You scoff, pushing at his shoulder this time, grinning against his mouth as he comes right back in for another kiss. After maybe the fifth ‘last kiss’ in a row, Bradley pulls back enough to brush the tip of your nose with his. He exhales softly, his grin fading to a smaller smile.
“Promise me you’ll be good ‘til I’m back, okay?”
You lift your chin and kiss his cheek, wrapping your pinkie finger around his.
“We promise. No mischief ‘til Daddy’s home.” You tell him. He turns his head towards you and leaves you with one last kiss, for real this time, kissing your bump as he starts to stand up from the bed. He calls goodbye to you three more times total before he’s finally out of the door.
Laying in Bradley Bradshaw’s bed almost a year later, you smile to yourself. That dumb girl in his bed the night after Halloween would never have imagined herself here, giggling like an idiot with the guy that was meant to be a one night stand.
He’s gone for a while, probably about halfway to work, by the time that you decide to pull yourself up from bed and walk to the shower. It still counts as bed rest if your plan is to get clean, stretch out Bradley’s clothes and make the treacherous hike to the living room to sit on the couch.
Water streams over your hair, your face, warming your skin. Savouring the feeling, you stand there for a moment with your face towards the ceiling. Your backache is pretty much a permanent feeling at this point, but as you roll your shoulders back and stretch upright, there’s a sudden sharp pain in the small of your back, right the way through your middle.
Fuck. Bradley has been gone for less than an hour, and you’ve probably pulled a muscle. He’s going to be so much more annoying when he hears about this.
The water seems to soothe it. It doesn’t hurt too much when you’re reaching your arms up to clean your hair, or wash your body. But, the second that the water’s off and you’re leaning over to grab your towel, it happens again. The same, sharp pain, right the way through your middle.
Dressing yourself is always a chore at this point in your pregnancy, but this time you’re just mad about it. No trouble. Since when does no trouble equate to injuring yourself mere moments after he’s out of the house? — You’re growing sick of this helplessness. Even bending down to tie your own shoelaces is impossible at the moment, but Bradley hid all of your shoes that weren’t slip-ons like that would make you feel better about it.
Sighing as you pull the shorts up around your hips, you flinch at the sound of rushed knocking at the door. Salespeople. Another groan as you start to walk, your swollen ankles taking the brunt of your anger as you start to stomp towards the door. Just to make your worsening day that little bit more insufferable, halfway through the living room, you kick your toe into the back of the couch.
Grabbing onto the back of it for leverage and jolting forwards, you’re met with another sharp pain. You’re supposed to be taking things easy, shit. At least it’s an excuse for Bradley to use his years of knowledge from playing sports and massage your back for you later.
By the time you make it to the door, the knocker is already turning and walking away. From behind, you don’t recognise him. The second that you turn around, instinct tells you to slam the door in his face. It’s what Bradley would do if he saw his Uncle Pete standing on your doorstep at 7am on a Thursday.
One hand on your stomach, you’re visibly disgruntled, but Maverick knows it’s too late to just walk away without saying anything. His eyes dart from your swollen stomach and back up to your face. It’s clear that your pregnancy makes him uncomfortable.
“Sorry, I was… I was looking for Bradley, I’m… I’m a family friend.” The aging pilot on your doorstep explains awkwardly. He brings one hand up and scratches at the back of his neck. His blue eyes drop down to your stomach again.
“I know who you are.” You reply softly.
Pete swallows, then nods. It takes him a second before he remembers to speak again, giving a disoriented shake of his head as he steps towards you and extends his hand. “Right. Um, I wrote this, and I’d really appreciate it if you could give it to him. I just want a chance to explain.”
Looking down at the folded letter in his hand, your face softens. You glance quickly between him and the bundle of paper, your mouth twisting into a frown as you give a slow shake of your head.
“I can’t make him read it.” You explain quietly, lifting your arm and reaching out for the paper. Maverick sets it in your hand, his head bowed, eyes on the concrete outside. Maybe that’s just easier than looking you in the eye. “I’ll give it to him, though.”
That alone is more kindness than Bradley has showed him in the last two years. Maverick lifts his head quickly, blue eyes glassy as he searches over your face. You can see him fighting not to overreact, or frighten you.
“Thank you,” The pilot breathes out finally, like you’ve personally lifted the weight from his chest. “I apprecia—“
A sharp gasp and your hands fly to the small of your back. You crane your body, moving with the pain and stretching up straight. “Ow, fuck.”
Maverick freezes. He watches you for a few seconds, the searing pain that you seem to be going through. Suddenly, all he can think of was the time that Carole almost broke his hand when she went into labour with Bradley.
“Are you… okay?” Maverick broaches the topic cautiously as you seem to come down from the pain with a few deep breaths.
“Yeah. I think I pulled a muscle or something, it’s killing me.”
“Just… a muscle?” Maverick asks quietly. Brows furrowing, you stare at him. His eyes flicker down to your stomach once more. Finally, it dawns on you.
“Oh. No,” You shake your head quickly, “He’s not due for another three weeks.”
The aging pilot just stares at you. You could go into the ins and outs of it. That he’s a little small for this stage of the pregnancy. That they told you specifically that you were likely to be overdue as a result. Overdue. Like past his due date. Not three fucking weeks early. He’s not big enough yet
The front door’s still wide open. The two of you just stand there, silent, staring at each other. Equally unsure of what comes next. You gulp, smoothing a hand softly over the swell of your stomach. Maverick watches the tears start to well in your eyes.
“Should… Do I call Bradley?”
Pete doesn’t remember Carole looking this young, or afraid, but he knows she was. He was. Goose was the only one who seemed to know what he was doing, even though he hadn’t either.
Christ, he shouldn’t be here. Bradley should be here. Or Goose. Or someone who could help you. Anyone but him, he just knows that he’ll screw it up further — and Bradley’s going to hate him even more than he already does.
“Yeah. Call Bradley.” Pete croaks out, still standing awkwardly on your doorstep. He’s meant to be leaving today. He’s supposed to be back in Miramar by noon their time.
“What if it’s nothing? — He’s flying today.”
“Try him. He won’t be in the air yet.” Pete answers. If he’s good for nothing else, at least he’s got knowledge about what Bradley’s day at work should look like. “And your Mom. You should call your parents.”
“I — I don’t speak with my parents,” You’re already stumbling back, turning away from him, your voice trembling. Pete’s heart thuds in his chest. “It’s just Bradley.”
And Jake. You wish Jake was here. He would know what to do.
Maverick watches from the doorway as you disappear down the hall. He doesn’t dare take a step forwards. He’ll move if you start screaming for help or something. You reappear quickly and wave him inside, phone pressed to your ear.
The letter isn’t in your hand anymore but that doesn’t seem important now. You've met with Bradley’s voicemail three times in a row. Pete stands just inside the doorway, feeling like his knees are about to give out.
Closing your eyes, you will yourself not to cry in front of this stranger. You silently plead with this little boy to just hang on a little longer. Just until he’s bigger. Until he’s a little more ready. Until you’re a little more ready.
“Is there anyone else I can call for you? — A friend, or… a boss? — Anyone?” Maverick tries. You lift your head to look at him and he freezes as your eyes gloss over.
“No,” You whimper. Not down here, there’s not a single soul that you could turn to. Not with Jake being away. “Just Bradley.”
“Okay, um…”
You’re both standing on opposite sides of the room now, separately and silently freaking out. Finally, it occurs to you to check the time.
“Wait, I just — I went fifteen minutes without any kind of pain. If they were contractions, they’d be regular. Right?”
“I’m not sure.” Pete’s already shaking his head. He doesn’t know a lot about babies. Or pregnancy. Or families in general. But, if there’s any time to be cautious, it seems like that time would be now. “Maybe we should take you to a doctor. Just in case.”
Wiping at your eyes, you sniffle softly. “No, it’s — I’m — we’re fine. I’ll call my doctor, and I’ll wait for Bradley to come home.”
“Are you sure? — I mean…”
“I’m sure. Thanks. For being here. I’ll make sure he gets the letter.” Everything in your tone is telling him that he has overstayed his welcome and that you would like him to leave. That’s not really the case. You don’t mind him. But, he has just royally freaked you out, and you would like the privacy to continue to freak out in peace.
“Sure. Alright,” Maverick bumps into the wall behind him as he steps towards the door. Maybe he should stop by the base and try to find Bradley, let him know that he needs to come home early. “My number’s on that letter. If you need anything, I’m nearby. Just call me.”
One hand on your stomach and the other gripping the kitchen island so tight that your hand starts to lose feeling, you give him a tight-lipped smile. Maverick mumbles a quick goodbye and closes the door behind him.
Admittedly, he lingers just outside of the door for a while longer than he needs to. He just can’t help but wonder if this is the last he’ll hear from Bradley, or you — or this baby. He wonders if he’ll ever know this child at all.
The weight of it sits on his shoulders. Just a little extra, sitting on top of what’s already been there for the past twenty years. He bows his head as he walks back to his car.
Unlocking the driver’s side and pulling the door open, he doesn’t hear the front door fling open behind him.
“Mav!”
He stops and turns, brows drawing together. His jaw falls slack. You’re gripping onto the doorframe with one hand and your stomach with the other. Your legs are soaked.
“Fuck.” Maverick breathes out.
…
@chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster x you#rooster bradshaw imagine#top gun smut#bradley bradshaw x reader#my future in you#MFIY
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MFII11: Mérito Desenvolvimento Imobiliário I Vale a Pena?
Acessíveis e com retorno superior à renda fixa, os Fundos Imobiliários são ativos interessantes para ampliar seu patrimônio de olho em uma aposentadoria tranquila.
Investir nos melhores Fundos Imobiliário (FII) é uma alternativa de aplicação com menor risco e maior rentabilidade quando comparada ao investimento tradicional em imóveis.
Com cotas comercializadas desde março de 2013, o MFII11 é um fundo imobiliário de desenvolvimento. Nele, são captados recursos para investimento em incorporação imobiliária.
Diferentemente de fundos do tipo papel ou tijolo, os fundos de desenvolvimento não focam em títulos atrelados à imóveis ou sua aquisição para locação.
Seu objetivo é obter lucro com a concepção, desenvolvimento, construção e venda de imóveis.
Se você busca ganhar dinheiro com investimento em FII rentáveis e garantir sua segurança futura, antes de investir você deve conhecer as características e histórico do MFII11.
“Alguns dos melhores negócios que eu fiz, foram os que eu não fiz” Autor desconhecido
Pronto para aprender tudo sobre o MFII11 e descobrir se é este FII que pode ajudar seu patrimônio a crescer?
Neste artigo você aprenderá tudo o que deve saber sobre o MFII11 para investir de maneira consciente:
O que é MFII11;Dividendos pagos pelo MFII11;Resumo da carteira do MFII11;Quantidade e localização dos ativos que compõem o fundo;Negociação e liquidez do MFII11;Riscos do MFII11;Dados oficiais sobre o MFII11.
Leia até o final e descubra se o fundo imobiliário MFII11 pode ajudá-lo a atingir a sua independência financeira em menor tempo e com mais eficiência!
O que é MFII11?
A sigla MFII11 se refere ao Fundo de Investimento Mérito Desenvolvimento Imobiliário I, constituído em setembro de 2012 e administrado pela Planner Corretora de Valores S.A., de São Paulo.
Trata-se de um fundo de desenvolvimento, onde a captação de recursos se destina à construção e posterior venda de imóveis.
Este é um FII para investimento a longo prazo, focado em imóveis habitacionais. Sua carteira apresenta incorporações residenciais e urbanizações, localizadas nas regiões sudeste e nordeste.
O FII Mérito Desenvolvimento Imobiliário I conta com gestão ativa, formato de condomínio fechado e prazo indeterminado de duração.
A comercialização de cotas foi aberta em março de 2013. O objetivo era a captação de R$5,7 milhões.
Em agosto de 2019, o MFII11 registrou um patrimônio superior aos R$ 280,2 milhões e quase 15 mil cotistas.
MFII11: Dividendos
Os rendimentos mensais do MFII11 em agosto de 2019 foram de R$ 1,08, representando 0,89% em relação ao valor de cota na data.
Durante os 12 meses anteriores, o rendimento acumulado do MFII11 atingiu R$ 12,48 por cota, somando 10,26% de retorno.
Entre seu IPO e agosto de 2019, o MFII11 registrou um retorno por cota de R$ 78,40. Isso significa 64,47% sobre o valor de cota atual.
A imagem abaixo demonstra seu histórico de rentabilidade, segundo o relatório gerencial de junho de 2019.
Rentabilidade do fundo MFII11
Resumo da Carteira do MFII11
A carteira do MFII11 é composta por incorporações residenciais e urbanizações.
Segundo o relatório gerencial publicado em junho de 2019, 67% do portfólio é dedicado a urbanizações, enquanto 33% de destina a incorporações residenciais.
Composição da carteira do fundo
É ainda interessante que se conheça o percentual dedicado às diferentes fases do desenvolvimento do ativo, como mostra a imagem abaixo.
Fases do desenvolvimento dos ativos que compõem o fundo
No MFII11, os empreendimentos imobiliários já concluídos representam 70% da carteira, enquanto os ainda em obras registram 21% dos recursos e imóveis em pré-lançamento representam 9%.
Quantidade e Localização dos Ativos
Segundo o relatório de junho de 2019, os imóveis que o MFII possui se localizam nas regiões sudeste e nordeste.
VILLA BAZZANO
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Ubatuba, SP
Fase: Concluído
JARDINS DA SERRA
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Maracanaú, CE
Fase: Concluído
VILLA FERRARA
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Ubatuba, SP
Fase: Concluído
RESIDENCIAL CAMPO VERDE
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Iracemápolis, SP
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DE LAGARTO
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Lagarto, SE
Fase: Concluído
WAY PARQUE DAS NAÇÕES
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Santo André, SP
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DE ESTÂNCIA
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Estância, SE
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DE CAMAÇARI
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Camaçari, BA
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DO CAMPESTRE
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Patos, PB
Fase: Concluído
TERRAS DE ESTÂNCIA
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Paulínia, SP
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DE CANAÃ
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Caruaru, PE
Fase: Concluído
LUAR DE ARAPIRACA II
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Arapiraca, AL
Fase: Concluído
NOVA COLORADO S.A.
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Região Nordeste
Fase: Concluído
VILLA MONREALE
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Ubatuba, SP
Fase: Obras
MAXHAUS SANTOS
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Santos, SP
Fase: Obras
GOLDEN BOITUVA
Tipo: Incorporação Residencial
Localização: Boituva, SP
Fase: Obras
DONA AMÉLIA
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Uberaba, MG
Fase: Pré-lançamento
JARDINS DE TARSILA
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Campinas, SP
Fase: Pré-lançamento
DESCAMPADO
Tipo: Urbanização
Localização: Campinas, SP
Fase: Pré-lançamento
LAURO DE FREITAS
Tipo: Incorporação residencial
Localização: São Paulo, SP
Fase: Pré-lançamento
Negociação e Liquidez MFII11
A média de negociações do MFII11 durante os últimos 3 meses é de 8230 negociações ao mês.
Ao longo dos últimos 12 meses, o montante comercializado a diário vem sendo de R$ 635 mil.
Riscos do MFII11
Os fundos de investimento imobiliário oferecem riscos menores quando comparados à um investimento direto nesses bens. No entanto, eles existem.
Os riscos de investir no MFII11 estão ligados à concentração de capital, a execução da obra e sua venda e à transparência desse fundo.
Falemos mais sobre eles.
Risco de Concentração
Riscos relacionados à concentração falam da estratégia de alocação de ativos adotada pela gestora do fundo.
No MFII11 não existe qualquer limitação quando a quantidade de ativos que devem compor sua carteira.
Cabe a possibilidade de que todo o capital seja centralizado em apenas um investimento imobiliário.
Há ainda uma segunda questão: não existem restrições quanto ao limite de cotas que podem ser adquiridas por um único cotista.
Por esse motivo, teoricamente é possível que um único investidor integralize uma grande parte da emissão de cotas, ou mesmo sua totalidade, fragilizando a posição de cotistas minoritários.
O regulamento do fundo prevê possíveis deliberações por parte do cotista majoritário, e alteração do tratamento tributário do Fundo ou de seus cotistas para tal caso.
Risco de Execução
O risco de execução trata das questões da obra e venda dos imóveis em carteira. É o risco natural que envolve a execução de construções.
O MFII11 é um fundo de desenvolvimento. Assim, os recursos são aplicados em construção e venda.
As obras podem sofrer atrasos, ou as vendas podem ser mais lentas do que o esperado, o que afetaria o rendimento do fundo.
Risco de Transparência
O principal risco que se percebe no MFII11 tem a ver com a transparência de informações.
Dos pouco mais de R$ 280 milhões que compõem o patrimônio do fundo, R$ 170 milhões estão aplicados em um único CNPJ que por sua vez investe em vários outros.
Dentro deste CNPJ, controlado pela mesma gestora do fundo, existem vários empreendimentos.
Acontece que os formulários padrão que a B3 e CVM exigem que o fundo preencha como forma de prestação de contas, não tem campos para que os detalhamentos sejam cascateados.
Portanto o investidor fica dependendo da boa vontade do fundo em abrir e detalhar as informações para poder ter um entendimento completo do que se passa lá dentro.
Se isso não ocorrer, não há o que se possa fazer.
Essa estrutura de CNPJs que o fundo adota permite que ele consiga aplicar o lucro de um determinado empreendimento em outro, escapando da obrigatoriedade de distribuição de 95% do resultado líquido semestral.
Isso ocorre pois o CNPJ investido pode, ao invés de subir o resultado de um empreendimento para o fundo, alocar este recurso em outro empreendimento.
Dados do MFII11
Conheça os dados oficiais sobre o MFII11.
Razão Social: Mérito Desenvolvimento Imobiliário I FIICNPJ: 16.915.968/0001-88Gestor: Planner Corretora de Valores SAPúblico Alvo: Investidores em GeralSegmento: Desenvolvimento ImobiliárioPatrimônio Total (30/08/2019): R$ 280.278.611,99Taxa de Administração: 2,0% a.a. (ao ano) sobre PL a mercadoTaxa de Performance: 20% sobre o que exceder o CDIInício do Fundo: Março de 2013Quantidade de Emissões: 4Número de Cotistas (30/08/2019): 14.578Número de Cotas do MFII11: 2.167.095Regulamento: Ver regulamento do MFII11Relatório Gerencial: Ver relatório do MFII11MFII11 Site Oficial (RI): http://meritoinvestimentos.com.br/fundos-de-investimento/merito-desenvolvimento-imobiliario-i-fii/
Dúvidas sobre MFII11
Algumas dúvidas sobre Fundos de Investimento são comuns. As respondo diretamente agora.
Como comprar MFII11?
Através de uma corretora de valores. É simples e rápido. Siga o passo a passo:
Abra sua conta em uma corretora de valores;Transfira os fundos para efetivar a compra;Acesse o Home Broker;Digite o código de investimento (ticker), que é MFII11 para este fundo;Selecione a quantidade de cotas e o valor de compra;Envie a ordem de compra.
Onde achar o informe de rendimentos do MFII11?
É possível encontrar o informe de rendimentos do MFII11 através do site oficial, na aba Informe Mensal.
Onde achar o relatório gerencial do MFII11?
O relatório gerencial do MFII11 está disponível no site oficial do fundo imobiliário, na aba Relatório Gerencial.
Além disso, o site da BM&F Bovespa o disponibiliza na página dedicada ao fundo. Procure a aba “Relatórios Financeiros”.
MFII11 é um Bom Investimento?
Apesar de os números darem a sensação de que o fundo é bom e seguro, a falta de transparência é um risco elevado demais para o investidor.
A estrutura de investimentos adotada pelo fundo, ao colocar um CNPJ entre o fundo e todos os seus empreendimentos é perigosa para os investidores.
Isso dá ao fundo, por meio deste CNPJ, mais liberdade do que a regulamentação de fundo prevê.
Eu prefiro ficar de fora de um bom investimento a correr o risco de ficar dentro de um mal investimento.
O risco é grande demais neste fundo para merecer meu investimento.
O fundo ainda tem em seu histórico a cobrança de taxa de entrada em algumas captações realizadas.
Esta taxa de entrada foi utilizada para manter os níveis de rendimentos estáveis em um fundo que tem uma natureza instável.
Ou seja, ele já utilizou recursos dos próprios cotistas para manter o rendimento do fundo em níveis artificialmente atrativos.
Risco alto, transparência baixa e histórico questionável.
Dito isso tudo, eu não considero o MFII11 um bom investimento.
Você investe em Fundos Imobiliários? Conte-me nos comentários.
Se ainda não investe, o que falta para começar? É possível que eu possa ajudar!
Quer Investir nos Melhores Fundos Imobiliários? Baixe Grátis o Relatório "3 Melhores FIIs para Receber Aluguéis"
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180 años de la fotografía #psycvanna https://www.instagram.com/p/B1XcJ-mFiys/?igshid=1dukltzgc2w9z
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All I want from Endgame is someone to say Avengers Assemble! I think it would be Cap 👊 #endgame #mcu . . . . Artist @ultraraw26 #illustration #digitalart #reckvinci #art #marvel #avengers4 #ironman #thor #hulk #captainmarvel https://www.instagram.com/p/BubBZkXgOcUzMOpVn_v_Cva3M-mFIy-et1cjwI0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1772hdx2z70fo
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Caleb: The Birds and The Bees
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ohJBIy
by robotictia4
Stiles and Derek's son has a question and naturally chaos ensues in the Hale household.
This is set in the AU of my story 'My Future is Yours' and I don't think you need to have read that to get this, but it might be helpful.
Words: 6038, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 4 of TW Next Gen MFIY AU
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Original Characters, Original Child Character(s)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski
Additional Tags: Family, Fluff, Humor
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ohJBIy
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Text
Caleb: The Birds and The Bees
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ohJBIy
by robotictia4
Stiles and Derek's son has a question and naturally chaos ensues in the Hale household.
This is set in the AU of my story 'My Future is Yours' and I don't think you need to have read that to get this, but it might be helpful.
Words: 6038, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 4 of TW Next Gen MFIY AU
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Original Characters, Original Child Character(s)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski
Additional Tags: Family, Fluff, Humor
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ohJBIy
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A Game of Monopoly: Mobility Fund II & Infrastructure
By Tim Donovan, SVP of Legislative Affairs, CCA and Rebecca Murphy Thompson, EVP & General Counsel, CCA
February 24, 2017 - In a game of Monopoly, whatever the dice roll, eventually someone picks up that fateful card: “Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.” Although some carriers treat the United States like the Monopoly game board - seeking to control as many properties as possible to “win” the game - the mobile ecosystem works best when there are many players competing within one “square.” Competitive carriers often must contend with some element of chance in the broadband marketplace but ultimately look to the Federal Communications Commission (“FCC” or “Commission”) to provide certainty. Yesterday, at the FCC’s Open Meeting, the Commission provided opportunity to advance their tokens across the board. Thanks to a Mobility Fund II item adopted during the Open Meeting, we are hopeful that competitive carriers are able to continue deploying, maintaining and improving networks throughout the United States. Dominant carriers may have already scooped up Park Place and Boardwalk, but competitive carriers have made investments to build innovative, far-reaching networks serving Indiana Avenue, Kentucky Avenue, Tennessee Avenue, and Pennsylvania Railroad. With the help of Universal Service funding and smart infrastructure policies, carriers can continue to expand to areas where the business case for doing so is absent, either because private investment does not suffice or a dominant carrier has asserted their market power to lock other players in “jail.”
Now, rural America is one-step closer to passing “Go.” CCA is pleased that the adopted Mobility Fund II item is significantly improved from our understanding of previous drafts. The FCC has rightly chosen to implement a program that will offer predictable support for the preservation and deployment of wireless networks. Wireless carriers, and more importantly their consumers, depend on USF in addition to carriers’ own capital resources to provide comparable mobile broadband service in rural areas. If the FCC got it right, the Mobility Fund II program will provide carriers the certainty needed to make future business decisions, including budgeting for operations, upgrades, and expansion of the latest mobile technologies for consumers over the next several years.
CCA congratulates Chairman Pai on completing the first initiative to promote his Digital Empowerment Agenda. CCA likewise thanks Commissioner Clyburn for continuing to champion issues that affect competitive carriers, and Commissioner O’Rielly for the important work on Universal Service policy. Specifically, CCA applauds the FCC’s plan to revise its Mobility Fund II program to account for overstated coverage data, which will determine the areas where support is most needed and ultimately benefit the consumers for which these funds are intended. Even more laudable, the FCC has recognized that rural areas are some of the most difficult to serve, and has adopted what we hope is an equitable and predictable phase-down for legacy funds.
CCA likewise recognizes Congress’ efforts, including Senators Roger Wicker (R-MS), Joe Manchin (D-WV), and their colleagues, for encouraging the Commission to adopt a Mobility Fund II program that provides sufficient and predictable support for carriers. Yesterday’s vote supports Chairman Blackburn’s (R-TN) focus on expanding rural broadband. CCA also thanks Congress for providing certainty of USF support for wireless carriers through language in the current FCC Appropriations, which prevents a phase-out of legacy support until there is an operational Mobility Fund II program in place, and applauds the FCC’s work to align the current item with this mandate. While all parties involved should be pleased with yesterday’s actions, consumers are the real winners, as the FCC has aided competitive carriers’ abilities to expand their service portfolios across myriad areas of the United States. This means economic growth, new jobs and better educational opportunities for rural areas and economically challenged consumers.
But work to bridge the digital divide is not over. After all, you can’t play the game without the board, just as carriers can’t make promises about 5G and next-generation services - even with the best spectrum - without streamlined infrastructure processes and procedures. While critical to our 5G future, these challenges also impact carriers working to provide today’s mobile services. Deploying broadband infrastructure is a necessary, yet resource-heavy endeavor: the fruitful cross-section of engineering expertise, capital investment and strategic spectrum acquisition. Unfortunately, the siting process is mummified in red tape. Competitive carriers, whether siting the smallest antenna or the tallest tower, must secure permission from:
state and local government authorities;
the FCC, which is responsible for implementing the National Environmental Protection Act, the Endangered Species Act, and the National Historic Preservation Act;
State Historic Preservation Offices or Tribal Historic Preservation Offices; and
Federally-recognized Tribes.
Not to mention, if the siting project is on federally-owned land or property, additional federal agency permissions are needed. It takes an infinite amount of time and resources to complete, and much like the game of Monopoly, it involves risks, many of which are unnecessary.
To check all these boxes, competitive carriers must navigate kaleidoscopic federal, state, and local law and policy as well as informal practices that can vary dramatically from county to county, and state to state. Uncertainty regarding timing and cost reigns. For example, under current practices, there is no limit on what Tribes can charge a carrier for a given siting project, even outside Tribal lands, and no limit on the areas within which a Tribe can assert an historic or cultural interest. If the carrier pays those fees, a Tribe is still empowered to stall a project without justification. And Tribal fees have dramatically increased in recent years. One CCA member reports that rooftop macrocell collocations in Chicago have generated between $11,000 -12,000 per site in Tribal fees, and that does not even account for the necessary expenses to collocate on a site. While we have a duty to protect Tribal ancestral lands and properties, we must work collaboratively with Tribes to more clearly define the pre-consultation process and cost. Local governments and federal agencies, too, can delay projects for years without penalty, and charge exorbitant fees rendering siting projects uneconomic. With these types of unreasonable policies in place, it will be a long, hard road to 5G, and the digital divide will become an even wider chasm across America’s heartland.
The FCC and Congress can and should introduce commonsense solutions to these problems. The MOBILE NOW Act, currently under consideration in the Senate, contains several provisions that will improve the siting process if enacted, and Congress should move forward on MOBILE NOW and similar legislation as part of continued work to streamline these processes with reasonable solutions. Project delays will decrease if the Commission or Congress shortens application review “shot clocks,” and musters the regulatory or legal grit to create a “deemed granted” provision where state and local authorities fail to timely complete review. By clarifying the definition of practices that “prohibit or have the effect of prohibiting” broadband service, the Commission can ensure major siting roadblocks - like endless moratorium, or arbitrarily costly application requirements - are preempted from the start. As the Commission has acknowledged, it’s impossible to ignore the astronomical uptick in consumer demand for mobile data services, and that future 4G and 5G services will require “significant densification of small wireless facilities, including small cells and DAS.” It makes sense, then, to revisit overarching federally-sponsored siting agreements to more roundly exclude small wireless facilities from the rigors and expenses of federal statutory review. The Commission or Congress also could explore redefining a “federal undertaking” to exclude small wireless facilities entirely. Some of these ideas appear in Chairman Pai’s Digital Empowerment Agenda and are discussed in a recent Public Notice, signaling to competitive carriers that the Commission is ready to tackle these infrastructure problems. CCA urges the Commission to act sooner rather than later.
The Mobility Fund II item is not a “Get Out of Jail Free” card by any means. Rather, it’s an important federal program ensuring hard-to-reach consumers have the ability to participate in modern-day, constantly-connected life with advanced mobile services. While yesterday’s actions move competitive carriers one step closer to passing “Go,” the FCC must continue to revise its strategy for administering the rules when it comes to allocation and contribution of funds and infrastructure deployment. Scarce USF dollars go further when costs associated with unnecessary regulatory burdens to deploy are minimized. At the end of the day, the FCC has done its job correctly if consumers win the game. And consumers win when they have a choice between competing wireless providers offering next-generation service, no matter where they reside.
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