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#top gun imagine
roosterforme · 15 hours
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Go Big or Go Home | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Once your husband gets going, it's hard to reel him in again. Now that you've told everyone that you're pregnant, you realize he's always going to go a little over the top for you and the baby. But you let him get away with it, because nothing feels quite as important as the love he has for you.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight angst, pregnancy topics
Length: 2000 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
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You sat in a lounge chair on your back patio, sipping some Gatorade in your oversized sunglasses and watching your sweaty husband doing yard work. He started out an hour ago with a shirt on, but he discarded that in favor of showing off his glistening torso for your entertainment. At least that's what you told yourself. 
"Roo! Come take a break!"
Bradley turned and looked at you as he wiped his brow with his forearm. "Sweetheart. No breaks. I want to get as much done as I can around here now so you don't have to worry about it later."
You sighed. He was going to wear himself out with projects leading up to his deployment. You loved that he wanted to leave you without a dripping faucet in the kitchen and without weeds in the backyard, but sending him off away in a few days if he wasn't well rested was going to spell disaster.
"If I need something done while you're away, I'll call Jake or Cam."
Bradley scoffed but dropped the rake he was using and headed your way in his low slung jeans. "I can't let another man do my yard work. That absolutely goes against guy code." He started to lean down for a kiss, and he smelled so good, you moaned before he even touched you. "Hey now," he said with a smirk, pausing a few inches from your lips. "I have an idea."
"Tell me," you whined.
His smirk grew. "Something that might successfully lure me away from my projects?"
"Yes, we can fuck," you told him immediately, but instead of kissing your lips, he chuckled and dropped to his knees next to your lounger and ran his nose along your shirt. 
"Hold that thought, because we will be doing that later." He nudged the shirt fabric up until his lips met the bare skin of your belly, kissing his new favorite spot on your body. "Hey, little Nugget," he whispered, and your heart melted as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair. "Think Mommy will go for our scheme?"
You laughed. "You're scheming with the baby? Already?"
"Oh yeah," he told you with a serious nod. "Here's what we're gonna do."
"This should be good," you muttered as he kissed you one more time before pulling your shirt back down.
"How about instead of chores, we spend the rest of the day shopping for baby stuff?"
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. You were just barely into your second trimester, and it felt early to be buying too many things at this point, but the eager look on Bradley's face had you agreeing. "I'll let you pick out one thing."
His eyes lit up, and you should have known what was coming. "Let's make it five things."
"Bradley," you groaned, and he started kissing your lips in earnest until you giggled. "Fine! Three things! Final offer!"
"Sold."
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"I love this store," Bradley said as he held your hand and walked around the enormous baby depot.
"You've only been here one time!" you reminded him. "And we were shopping for a gift for someone else's baby."
He recalled that day perfectly. It was when you and he both admitted you wanted kids, and he hadn't stopped thinking about expanding his family with you since then. "I still love it," he said, pulling you toward the baby clothes. He desperately wanted to buy his child their first outfit, but he didn't know what would be suitable. Something told him he'd know what he wanted when he saw it.
The main issue he was having right now was your libido. He'd skipped a shower in favor of coming right here, and somehow you seemed even worse than usual. Even more wound up. "You smell so good," you whispered, pressing yourself against him as soon as he stopped to look around. Even as he throbbed for you, he told himself he needed to stay on task.
"Baby Girl, I will let you do anything you want to me," he swore, and your eyes glittered. "Later. After I pick out my three things for the Nugget."
"Well, hurry up," you whispered, running your fingers low on his abs while he looked at some onesies. "I'm horny."
He kissed the top of your head and guided you along. "I know you are. I won't leave you hanging." And he wouldn't. He'd be gone soon, sent away to some undisclosed location for some undisclosed amount of time where he'd have no access to you or the Nugget. He'd give you everything you wanted and needed right now, but this little shopping trip was something for him. He needed this. There was always the fear in the back of his mind that he might not return. 
"These are cute sunglasses," you mused, still running one hand along his body. "Little aviators."
Bradley felt like his insides were going to melt as you held up the tiniest pair of sunglasses he'd ever seen in his life. "Holy shit," he muttered when you handed them to him. "These are fucking adorable, Sweetheart. Good find. Our baby is going to look so damn cool."
"What did I tell you about swearing so much?" you said as you rubbed your face on his shirt. Bradley knew you were a ticking time bomb at the moment. He needed to make his selections and get you out before you started to whine for him.
"I'll fucking behave," he replied, making you laugh. And that was when he saw it. The perfect onesie. His child needed to have it. He made a beeline toward the shelf and snatched it up as you followed behind him.
"That's cute!" you said, running your fingers along the airplane and the clouds that spelled out Aim for the Sky. The clothing sizes went by months, which was very confusing to him. Surely the baby wouldn't be growing that fast? Needing new clothing every few weeks?
"Just to be sure," he muttered, grabbing the onesie in several sizes. "Okay, that's item number one of three."
"Technically that looks like four items to me, Bradley. Why are you getting so many onesies?"
"In case the Nugget grows at super speeds. I'm going to want to take a million photos of this outfit."
When he gave you his saddest eyes, you groaned and said, "Fine. Nugget's first outfit has been acquired. Pick two more items, and we can go home and get in bed."
With a grin, he started to lead you around the store. He wanted to get the baby a toy, but he wasn't sure which would be the best. Jake had been telling him about everything he wanted to buy for Jeremiah, and some of it sounded fun, but once again, he wanted the Nugget to have something unique. One of a kind. Only the best shit for his kid.
"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, thrusting the onesies and aviators into your hands and running to the end of the aisle. "That's it!" He was hitting the enormous box with his palm over and over again. "Look at this! It's perfect!"
"Roo, it's five hundred bucks, and the baby won't even be able to use it for a few years," you warned, but it was too late. He was already sliding the box from the shelf and carrying it to the front of the store. "Bradley!"
"It's one of my three items! Now help guide me. This thing is massive."
With great joy, he paid for the orange Bronco Power Wheels and carried the box out to his full sized blue Bronco and fit it in the back while you held the bag containing the onesies and sunglasses. "I am so afraid to ask what your third item is going to be," you said as he struggled to make the box fit. But he had an idea. He'd had an idea for ages. It was part of the reason he had been trying to clean up the backyard a little bit more and even out the soil next to the shed.
When he closed the tailgate, he kissed your forehead gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he said calmly as he buckled you in the passenger seat and leaned down to kiss your belly. "The Nugget and I know exactly what to get."
You rolled your eyes and then asked what he was scheming up now. You asked the entire way home what he was going to buy, and he was only able to finally distract you once he had his clothes off in the bedroom. "Don't worry about it, Baby Girl. Worry about the fact that you won't be able to walk straight in half an hour."
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Bradley never told you what else he was going to buy, but later that night, you had the suspicion that it had already been purchased. You spent the evening with him out in the garage, sitting on his bench press and eating a bag of pretzels while he put the Power Wheels together on a tarp on the floor. 
"Can't leave the baby out," he muttered as he screwed the doors on. "Now we all have our own Bronco."
He looked adorable, his hair messy from how you'd had your fingers tangled in it, and the eager look on his face was something you'd desperately miss when he was gone. "The box says ages three to seven," you reminded him before you bit into a pretzel, but he just grunted in response. "And what if the Nugget doesn't like Broncos?" you asked just to tease him, earning a glare in response.
"The baby will have impeccable taste," he muttered, turning the page in the instruction booklet. "Broncos and hot sauce and airplanes."
You waited a few seconds until he looked very distracted, and then you softly asked, "What's the third thing you bought?"
He hummed as he located the set of screws he would need for the hood. "You'll see soon enough. It's being delivered tomorrow."
Tomorrow was Monday. He was leaving on Wednesday. "It's not something big that will need to be assembled like the Power Wheels, right?" He had the guiltiest expression on his face as he turned to look up at you. "Right?" you repeated. "Bradley!"
You got your answer the following morning when you were squeezing into your new uniform pants which were a size larger than your old ones. You were dreading the thought of having to start wearing a maternity uniform to work and went with new pants to buy yourself some time. You froze with your zipper halfway pulled up and called out to Bradley in the kitchen. "What's that sound?"
"Uh... it's the third thing for the Nugget being delivered," he replied, and you immediately headed for your front door and the repetitive beeping sound coming from outside. "Don't freak out," he said as he came up behind you as you wrenched the front door open. 
Bradley had already seemingly moved both Broncos to the street in anticipation of the forklift that was moving wooden pallets wrapped up in plastic onto the driveway. "Do I even want to know?" you whispered as the forklift backed up to scoop another pallet off of the truck that was parked in the middle of your street. 
He wrapped his arms around you from behind and let his hands rest on your bloated belly while he nuzzled your ear. "It's a thirty-seven piece jungle gym playset for the backyard."
"A thirty-seven piece...."
"The Nugget and I both really wanted it."
You pinched the bridge of your nose as your dog plopped down next to your feet, and the three of you watched the forklift make several more trips up the driveway. "Don't you dare try to buy anything else right now. Do you understand me?"
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Nothing says 'Bradley's child' quite like baby's first Bronco. And he's so precious, he's already built the thing. He's been daydreaming about the playset for long enough that it was bound to happen, too. Let's send him on this deployment and get him back home to his wifey and his Nugget. Stay tuned for more! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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sometimesanalice · 15 hours
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Sun Stroke
Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader
Length: 8k
Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.
(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)
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Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.
The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.
It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.
But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.
You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.
Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.
It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.
Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.
You were running late. You hate being late.
And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.
🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??
🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?
🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.
🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?
You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.
It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.
You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.
When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.
Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.
Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.
At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.
The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.
When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.
Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.
You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.
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Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.
The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.
Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.
As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.
Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.
It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.
You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.
The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.
“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.
You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.
“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.
It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.
The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.
He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”
And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.
You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.
“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”
He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”
Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.
He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”
“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.
“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.
“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”
He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”
You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”
Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.
The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 
“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”
His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.
The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.
God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.
“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”
Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.
The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.
“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.
You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.
Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.
“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.
You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.
“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.
“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.
You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”
He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”
“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.
“Claussen! The whole kind!”
“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”
Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.
You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.
Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 
Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.
Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.
“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.
“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”
You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.
“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”
He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.
“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”
You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.
Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.
Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.
“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.
He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.
Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 
“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.
“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.
“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”
Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.
“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.
“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”
“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”
He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”
“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.
Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 
However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 
But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.
You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.
Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 
Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.
How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.
You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.
“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.
“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”
Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.
“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”
The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”
“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.
As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 
You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”
“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”
“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.
“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”
“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.
Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.
The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.
What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.
It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.
You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.
You feel fidgety and keyed up. 
Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.
You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.
Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.
You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.
Fuck.
The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.
The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.
It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.
And then there was Rooster.
There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.
Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.
Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.
You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.
The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 
When did Bradley get an ass like that?
The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.
Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.
Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.
And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.
The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.
You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.
In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.
You weren’t. You shouldn’t.
But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.
Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.
Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.
It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.
You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.
There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.
There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.
You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.
Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.
Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.
Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.
A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.
You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--
You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.
In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.
When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.
Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.
“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”
Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.
“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.
“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”
“Shut up,” you mumble.
“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”
Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.
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The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.
Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.
As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.
He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.
“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”
“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.
He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.
You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”
It’s late by the time you get back to your place.
It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.
It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 
You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.
For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.
You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.
Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.
And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.
California was going to look good on you.
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Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!
Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!
If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!
You can read more of my stories here!
taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
176 notes · View notes
holy-minseok · 5 months
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We need mean!reader, angry!reader, misunderstood!reader, creepy!reader, gross!reader, toxic!reader, nonforgiving!reader, selfish!reader, narcissistic!reader, dark!reader, FEDUP!reader. That bitch is way too nice, passive, and sensible. ✋🏾😂
11K notes · View notes
mvybanks · 7 months
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Brother’s Best Friend
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request: rooster and you in a secret relationship and hangman is your older brother
a/n: first rooster fic who cheered?!? i hope you guys like this one bc i intend to keep writing for him and hangman and i guess i’m officially in the fandom now👀 let me know what you think! <3
pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, smut, age gap, daddy kink, slight degradation (?), unprotected sex
word count: 2.4k (of pure filth)
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add yourself to my taglist <3
It’s not a secret that your brother’s colleagues flirt with you, jokingly, whenever you’re around. Jake seems to have made his peace with it, as long as he’s aware that no one would ever think to actually do something about it. It’s an unspoken rule: no one touches Hangman’s little sister. No questions asked. No exceptions.
However, what your brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? After all, you tried to keep your distance the second you realized that your attraction runs deep, but Bradley sure as hell isn’t a man who backs down from a fight.
There’s always been a tension between you and him, one that you both attempted to push into the back of your minds, but failed miserably to do so. He knew he was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you, and although it was wrong, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, in any scenario. He wasn’t going to let it go either until you admitted that you wanted him as much as he wanted you, until you let him take you out on a date and bring you back to his apartment, until you were a writhing mess underneath him, begging oh-so deliciously for him. At that point, how was either of you supposed to put an end to this?
That’s how you find yourself in your current situation. You’re sat on a bar stool, listening to Coyote talking your ear off about God knows what, while your secret boyfriend watches you from afar. Every time your eye catches his gaze still fixed on your figure, a particular glint of hunger swimming behind his dilated pupils, you squirm in your sit, hoping that no one notices the way you press your thighs together. Well, no one except him.
Licking his lips for what seems the umpteenth time, he brings his beer to his mouth, taking a long sip and never taking his eyes off of you in the process. It’s been too damn long since he’s had the chance to rip your clothes off and he doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to keep himself from devouring you, even if it means doing it in front of all these people, including your brother. Never in a million years would he have thought to be in a relationship not only with his friend’s sister, but with a woman who’s fifteen years younger than him, and yet, here he is, stopping himself from rubbing his growing hard on as he stares at you.
Your hands smooth the bottom of your dress, trying to keep your composure as you send the man beside you a fake smile. It’s not that you don’t want to listen to him, but you’d much rather be in a completely different situation right now.
Finally, you notice Jake leaving the building with a girl under his arm and a smirk on his lips. You all but shake in anticipation when you mutter an apology to Coyote and begin to slowly walk towards the empty chair that’s waiting for you in front of Rooster.
“Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you purr as you take your sit, letting his eyes run up and down your body. It’s obvious that you know what you’re doing when you call him by his rank, smiling proudly at yourself at the clear effect that you’re having on him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps in response.
You try not to focus on his lips, nor his mustache, and you surely try your hardest not to think about how the last time you were alone with him it was covered in your —
“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks at the memory that your brain has decided to haunt you with, “How have you been?”
You both know that Jake has eyes and ears everywhere, which is why you make it seem like you’re just two friends catching up instead of two people who are too deep in a secret relationship.
Crossing one leg on top of the other, knowingly bringing his attention on the exposed flesh, “I’ve been good,” you reply, “You?”
He straightens up as he feels his pants getting tighter the more he looks at you. “Me, too. Could be better though.”
“And why’s that?”
He clicks his tongue, “I think you know why.” Slipping the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders, he gives you a good view of his muscular arms, barely covered by the white t-shirt that seems to want to rip every time he moves. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, the only thought in your mind being the remembrance of those same arms wrapped around your neck from behind, choking you in the most panty-dropping way. If he’s not going to do anything, then it’s your turn to lure him to your apartment tonight, for there’s no way that you’re not ending this evening beneath Bradley Bradshaw.
You get up, causing a frown to appear on his features while you step around the table to stand behind him. Bending down, you place your hands on his shoulders, then you let them run down his arms, almost making a groan escape from his throat before you whisper in his ear, “If you want me to make it all better, you should come around mine tonight.” You press your mouth against his neck, smirking as you feel his pulse racing on your lips.
“Y/n —“
“Or I can find someone else to take care of me.” You taunt him, reaching your goal when you see his knuckles turn white around the cold beer in his grip.
“Behave.” He all but growls, succeeding in making you feel dizzy with arousal.
“Make me.” You breathe in his ear, and you’re lucky that he hasn’t bent you over the table and fucked you right here, right now.
“You better be there in ten.”
You hum. “Oh, and one more thing,” you seductively bite his earlobe, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
With that, you begin to leave, moving your hips for you know he’s watching you with lust filled eyes now. You turn around, catching his gaze before you yell out, “See ya, Lieutenant.”
As you hear the sound of keys rattling, you thank your past self for telling Bradley where you keep your spare keys. You’re casually drinking water in your kitchen and standing in front of the counter when he bursts through the door, looking mad and hot. So goddamn hot, you think.
“Long time no see.” You joke as he shuts the door behind him.
“What the fuck was that?” The low and dangerous tone of his voice only makes you want him more and push his buttons.
“What was what?” You ask innocently.
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen counter behind you. “I think you like driving me crazy too much.”
“Oh no, Lieutenant,” you raise on your tiptoes in order to place your lips next to his ear, “I love it.”
And after a week of no physical contact, Bradley finally decides to grab your neck and claim your mouth with need. You both moan into the kiss as he easily takes control of your body by making you jump on the counter. His hands fly to your bare thighs and make their way under your dress, only to find out that you were telling the truth about the lack of underwear. Groaning against your lips, he pulls you impossibly closer and runs his palms up your waist. Your fingers find their home in his hair, pulling at the blonde strands.
Reluctantly pulling away, he quickly gets rid of your dress, throwing it somewhere across the room before his lips fall on your neck. Open-mouthed kisses are left on your skin as he makes way to your naked chest. His tongue licks your hard nipple once, slowly and torturously, then he wraps his mouth around it. You can only throw your head back and let out heavy breaths at the feeling of his experienced tongue. He doesn’t stop his attack on your breasts, even when you begin to whine and thrash in his hold.
“Fuck — I love these tits,” he mumbles before softly biting down on your nipple.
“Bradley, please.” You whimper. You can feel your arousal dripping on the surface below you and you only want him to do something — anything.
“You can beg better than that, sweetheart.” He smirks.
He kisses his way up your neck again, making you cry his name again, but it’s not enough. “Please, do something, please…daddy.”
“That’s my girl.” He growls.
In one swift motion, he throws your legs over his shoulders and pulls your wet pussy so close to his face that you can feel his breath fanning out as he asks, “What do you want daddy to do, sweetheart?”
Grabbing his hair, “Make me cum, please.” You plead.
How could he ever deny such a sweet request? His tongue delves between your folds, licking up a long stripe as you let out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard. He starts to eat you out as if it were the last thing he’ll ever do and, by the way you mewl and whine for daddy, it might actually be, because you’re going to kill him. His mustache tickles your clit as he teases your puckered hole with the tip of his tongue. When his lips close around the swollen and slicked bundle of nerves, you instinctively push his head deeper, resulting in him moaning against you and gripping your thighs tightly. The vibrations are too much and you let out a cry of daddy that causes another throaty sound to come out of the man between your legs.
“Want your cock, daddy,” you manage to say between whines, “Please, I need your cock.”
He raises his head from between your thighs to look up at you, one hand still holding his hair and the other playing with your own breast, and if the sight alone didn’t make him cum in his pants like a teenager, nothing ever will.
“You want daddy’s cock, mh? Don’t you wanna cum all over my face?”
You shake your head, “No, I need you.”
Without even giving you the chance of understanding what is going on, he manhandles you until you’re bent over the counter and your ass is pressed against his covered member. He quickly takes his shirt off and sneaks an arm around your stomach, making you feel his muscled torso on your back. Your hand flies back to his head, holding his neck while you wiggle your backside, waiting for him to give you what you’re both craving so desperately.
With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt, the sound almost making you moan, and lets his pants and underwear fall on the ground as he talks lewd in your ear. “You want daddy to make you feel good, sweetheart? You couldn’t wait to cum on daddy’s cock, huh? Such a greedy little girl.”
As his cock catches with the tight ring of muscles, you throw your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back as he slowly bottoms out inside your seeping hole. You breathe in each other’s mouth, completely open while you enjoy the feeling of his cock resting inside the tight and warm walls of your pussy. His hands grab your breasts before he begins to thrust inside you, setting a slow and hard pace.
“‘S this what you wanted? Daddy deep inside you?” He grunts in your ear.
“So deep.” You moan and he chuckles at your fucked out expression.
God, he loves having you like this.
“You can take it, sweetheart. You’ve done it before.”
One of his hands sneaks up your neck, choking you just the way he knows you desire, and the other goes down to your pussy until the pads of his fingers find your clit, rubbing it quickly. The pace of his hips accelerates, the sound of skin slapping fills the room, along your babbling of daddy’s that only make him fuck you harder.
“Aw, are you cock-drunk f’me? Are you gonna cum all over me, baby? Gonna drench daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He groans as he feels your walls contracting around him. “Are you gonna be a good girl f’me?” He pats your clit harshly and you gasp.
“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, “Wanna be your good girl.”
“Then, cum.” He orders.
And Bradley has always known your body better than you do because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy begins to spasm around his member, tightly gripping it while you come undone in his arms and with his name on your tongue. If it weren’t for his strong hold, you would’ve been in a puddle on the floor by now, but instead, he’s still sloppily thrusting in and out of your stretched hole, riding out your high.
“Daddy…” You whine breathlessly as you pull his head down by his neck.
“What d’you want, baby?”
“Want your cum.” You whimper, pushing down on his still hard member. “Please.”
He groans, picking up his pace once again, “Gonna be the death of me.”
His lips catch yours in a mind blowing kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as he releases inside of you, filling you up and making you gasp. Your muscles are sore and you’re sweating, however, you wish to stay like this until your legs give out. Bradley’s hands stroke your skin, humming against your neck as he peppers kisses on the delicate skin.
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to take my hands off of you.” He murmurs and a sudden warmth licks down your spine at his words.
“And I don’t want you to.”
Grinning, he adds next, “Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you.”
After spending the rest of the night underneath the sheets of your bed, now smelling like your boyfriend, you rest your back on the comfortable mattress as he hovers above you. You smile up at him, making his heart skip a beat, and force him down for a kiss. As you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his hands grope your thighs, the sound of keys jangling catches both his and your attention.
“Yo, Y/n,” your brother calls from the entrance of your apartment, “Are you home?”
You and Bradley look at each other like two deers in headlights.
Shit.
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taglist:
@multifandomlover4life @illicitfixations
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thewulf · 10 months
Text
Good News || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: So i saw somewhere where a woman got into trouble for "destruction of government property" but it's just her giving her military husband hickies, and i think this would be so hilarious with Jake Seresin.
A/N: This one came so quickly to me. It's just pure fluff. All the Jake Seresin fluff! Short but sweet. Hope you all enjoy :)
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N
Word Count: 2.3k +
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Your eyes flipped back to the calendar on the wall with a big red circle around today. You’d probably looked at that calendar a thousand times over the last six months as you waited. Waited agonizingly every single day praying you wouldn’t get a knock on your door or the dreaded phone call.
Jake had been deployed on a carrier off the coast of Israel in the Mediterranean Sea for the last six months. You knew it came with the territory when you started dating him all those years ago. It terrified you every single time he came to tell you he was off on a mission or going on orders overseas. You’d never show it, only your utmost support and confidence in the man. But you knew how dangerous it was. He told you about all the men and women he’s seen gone down and some never making it home in his short span as a pilot in the Navy. It didn’t just terrify you, it rocked you all the way down to your core. What if he didn’t make it home? He was a hell of a pilot, one of the best that was flying, but things didn’t always go your way. He knew that. You knew it. Everybody seemed to know it.
But today was the day. He was coming home. After the months of shitty less than communication and trying your best to stay distracted it was here. He was safe. He was alive. You’d talked to him just a few hours ago. Waiting.
Jake’s parents picked you up from your shared home just off base that’d been eerily quiet in his absence. They didn’t want you driving in your hyper-fixated state. They never wanted you driving when it came to these kinds of events. They knew how much it tore you up when he was gone on deployment. If you didn’t fly down to Texas they made sure to fly to you. Just to keep you company. You hadn’t a clue how you’d gotten so lucky to have them in your life. And hopefully in the future as family. You never pushed it though. You didn’t want him to panic and ran. And truth be told you’d be fine never marrying him so long as he was like this in your life. Your best friend and love wrapped up in one.
“Are you excited?” His mom asked seeing you nearly bouncing out of the backseat once the car rolled onto base.
“Oh Nancy,” you could only nod your head in confirmation, “I’m more than excited.” Your cheeks were starting to burn from the big cheesy grin you were wearing.
His dad, David, spoke up, “I know Jake is just as excited.” He smiled just feeling the excitement in the air. These days were truly the best. Six months was a long time to be away. The longest deployment he’d been on in years.
The three of you made small talk as David drove to the base. Once parked, you happily led the older couple over to where the sailors would stand before they waited to be dismissed. You watched as the hundred or so men and women aboard the ship departed to their designated formation. Your eyes scanned for your loved one. Your Jake.
Finally spotting him you waited anxiously as the rest of the crew lined up. You just had to wait it out another ten minutes or so. They had to officially be dismissed before they could break for the family reunions. These last few minutes always seemed to draw on for decades trying to be as patient as possible.
You kept your eyes on him as he kept his forward. You hadn’t a clue that he already spotted you moments before you did him. But he had to keep his attention forward. No matter how anxious he was to see his favorite girl again.
They second they were dismissed Jake made a beeline right for you. Your face lit up in surprise as he headed right at you. Your body responding by moving forward you jumped right into his arms once he got close enough. He was more than ready. He wrapped his arms right around you securing you tightly to his chest while your feet locked behind him.
“Jakey.” You grinned hugging him tightly, afraid he’d be gone from your arms again you cherished every second like this. It made you realize how much you really did love the man you were holding so tightly. How much you craved him, everything about him. You’d rather not have had him gone for six months though. That was far too long for your liking. As if you had any say.
“Honey.” He cooed gently rocking you side to side. One arm snaked around your waist, one arm gently cradling your head in his hands, “You’re so fucking pretty. How’d you get even more beautiful? God I missed your face.” Jake leaned down capturing your lips in his. As gentle as he normally was with you this was hungrier. He really had missed you. Giving your hip as squeeze you felt him smile into the kiss as you squirmed away from his grasp.
Once you stopped giggling you looked right into his eyes smiling dopily, “And I missed yours, handsome man.” You gave him a wicked smirk before doing the unthinkable. Jake had warned you time and time again how he couldn’t show visible marks on the skin, or the Navy could have his ass. And maybe even yours if they were angry enough. You’d known they were empty threats, but you’d never dreamed of potentially hurting his flying in anyway. So, you’d never leave any marks.
Sliding his collar to the side you decided to throw caution to the wind seeing everybody lost in their own world with their own families. Jake’s parents were even admiring all the reunions around them instead of having their eyes fixated on the two of you. They loved watching all the joy every time. Nancy always made sure that every sailor was feeling the love. That was just one of the reasons you’d fallen in love not only with Jake but his entire family. His mom was as sweet as they came. His dad just as caring but even more tough. It was no wonder Jake was the way he was. Albeit a little more of an asshole than either of them even combined.
“Ma’am. That is abhorrent.” A vaguely familiar voice made you focus on your surroundings once more, “This is Destruction of Government Property.” You heard a cough from behind Jake drawing you away from your boyfriends neck. The look you sent could’ve killed him if it were at all possible. Bradley fucking Bradshaw. Was he actually serious right now?
You felt Jake’s laughter in his chest before you heard it. Flicking your eyes up momentarily at him you kissed him on his cheek before flipping Bradley off, “I don’t care Bradley.” You continued flipping him off while Jake held you tightly to his chest.
“Sweetheart…” Jake tried to warn you. The government really did own his ass. But his Commanding Officer was cool. He wasn’t expected to be back on base for another few weeks… what did a few hickies hurt? You knew the drill, but it didn’t seem to matter as you clung to him like he was about to vanish at any second. He looked down at your doe eyed expression, “I missed you.” He finished realizing just how hard deployment really was on you. The two of you were going on year five together. He’d been a pilot for all of them. He’d flown his hardest missions during that time. Your support never wavered. But seeing you like this? Like you’d never see him again… it hurt him. It hurt knowing you were feeling like that.
“You’ll care when there are Naval Officers on your doorstep.” Bradley tried. He really did. But you really didn’t care. You missed him more than anything. You didn’t care that his parents were there watching. You just missed him. Missed his corny ass jokes and the soft touches he always threw your way. You missed the sweet smiles and laughter that came with being around him. 
“So be it. Worth it.” You giggled as Jake pinched your sides again bringing your attention back to the man you’d dreamed about every day.
“Eyes over here darling.” He made sure to flip Bradley off before holding you back in his arms once again. He wouldn’t let you drop your hold on him. He wanted you close. He didn’t care either. He’d craved you for those months. He’d forgotten just how bad deployment got. Bradley mumbled some incoherent words before disappearing off into the crowd.
Kissing his cheek once more you nodded, “Sorry Jakey.” Brushing your hands through his hair it felt like it really was just the two of you there. Like nobody else was around.
“No need to apologize.” He whispered in your ear sending immediate chills down your spine, “You didn’t answer my question though. How’d you seem to get even more beautiful while I was gone?”
You truly felt like a little schoolgirl was a nasty crush on a boy way out of your league. He was so sweet to you and only you. Not having a clue why. You loved watching him interact with everyone else. He was so different than the man who came home to you every night. But that was Jake. Tough as they come. Sweet as can be. The biggest fight the two of you had was when he came home and told you about the six month long deployment a year ago. You didn’t even fight you were just sad. Sad that he volunteered to go. Volunteered and didn’t tell you. The two of you worked through it though. You always did.
“Shush. You’ve just been trapped on a big boat for so long I’d be offended if you didn’t think I was pretty.” You wanted to kiss him so bad. You didn’t even remember the kiss you gave him once you spotted him walk off the ship. You blacked out, truly.
“Never ever.” He grinned, “I’ll never stop complementing my beautiful girl.”
You squeezed your arms around him pulling him so much closer. You’d melt into him if you could, “You’re too sweet to me Mr. Seresin.”
He shook his head, “Not enough, I’d say.” He took the lead this time leaning down to give you a soft, sweet kiss that was far too short for your liking.
“I love you.” You whispered to him feeling oh so happy. So beyond excited he was holding you in his arms once again. You tried to step away to give his parents a chance to say hello, but he only held you tighter. Shaking his head.
“Love you too, gorgeous girl.” He hummed placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “That was it, by the way.”
You scrunched your eyes together in confusion, “What?”
He nodded his head with that larger than life smile on his face, “You’re looking at Captain Jake Seresin. Command Ground Officer.” He emphasized ground with wide eyes.
“Jake! Congrats. You didn’t tell me! Does this mean you’re here? Permanently?” Looking at him expectedly. It hit you just how good it could really get once you knew he’d be sleeping by your side every night.
He nodded his head in excitement, “At least for this job. I’ll still be flying but more on the leadership side. Training. Preparing them.”
You didn’t think your heart could swell any larger in love. But there it went. Only Jake could do that. You knew it. He knew it, “You’re not kidding right? Like you’re being serious?”
“Yes sweetheart. So serious.” He kissed your nose this time. He missed you more than you could’ve imagined. It was an impossible six months. He didn’t want to do that anymore. He couldn’t be away from you anymore. Lucky for him he had options. They let him choose. He choose to ground himself from missions. It was time to grow up and move on. He’d accomplished everything he sought out to and more already in the air. Now he was on a mission to rise to the top. Admiral Jake Seresin had a ring to it. 
You wanted to squeal but knew you had eyes all over you. Anybody could’ve been watching, “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while J.”
“Just you wait.” He grinned ear to ear leaning down once more, whispering into your ear, “Won’t even be the best news you’ve heard all day.” Leaning all the way down he kissed you with a little bit more but keeping it PG. His parents were standing there a little annoyed that he’d chosen to be with you for so long before he even acknowledged them. But they knew. They knew the raw power of love. How much it could sway and dissuade. How deeply Jake was in love with you and how much you were with him.
“Oh? Do tell.” You pulled away looking at him curiously.
“You’ll see.” He wiggled his eyebrows just to egg you on.
You narrowed your eyebrows in on the man you loved so dearly, “You know how much I hate surprises.”
He laughed gleefully, “Oh darling, I know.” He pulled you back into him momentarily, “Promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”
“Promise?” You knew he’d keep true to his word, but you wanted to hear him confirm it.
“I promise you darling. Just you wait.” Squeezing your hand, he finally walked over to his parents bringing you right along with him. Only dropping your hand as he went in for the hug with his mom.
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Taglist: @stuffingbuttsandshit @genius2050
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topguncortez · 2 months
Note
"honey, I'm home" SCREAMS Bradley Rooster Bradshaw
Bradley Bradshaw can not enter a room without letting everyone know he’s there. it’s probably something he inherited from his father, but he is one person who knows how to make an entrance.
The first time he had ever called out that ridiculous yet iconic line, was right after you moved in together. It had caught you off guard, making you round the corner with a questionable look on your face making sure you did in fact here him yell:
“honey, i’m home!” Bradley said again as you stood in the doorway.
“i see that,” You said, shaking your head at him, “And what is this announcement for?”
“Well,” He set down his duffle bag, “I thought I should tell you I was home,” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal, “So you didn’t think i was an intruder. We’ve only been living together…” Bradley checks his watch, “43 hours and 25 minutes.”
You smile at the mustached man in front of you, “Well thank you for announcing your presence and scaring any potential burglars away.”
“All a part of the ‘living with Bradley Bradshaw’ package you purchased.”
“Yeah?” You bit your lip, your eyes raking over the bit of chest hair that was poking out of the top of his black t-shirt, “What else is included in the package?”
“This,” Bradley quickly hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your new shared bedroom.
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inmyglenpowellera · 1 month
Text
An Innocent Game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
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Request: requested by @kati-1997. Asked for best friends to lovers, everybody sees that they like each other but he admits it after someone flirts with the reader, the crew and Penny bet that they get together.
Word Count: 5949 words
Summary: Jake and the reader are best friends, however, the Dagger Squad and Penny can see they both want to be more than that. What started off as a bet of when the two will get together turns into a different game that leads to trouble.
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, angst, cursing (I think, I can't remember for sure, kissing.
It started as a game. An innocent little game for the entire Dagger Squad to play, minus Maverick who was trying to be the responsible one out of the group. But honestly, the oldest member couldn’t blame the group for what they started. They had to do something to deal with Fightertown's most clueless couple.
What started as placing bets for when the two of you finally got together turned into a drinking game.
Take a drink when one of you calls the other a nickname or says something flirty.
Take two drinks if one of you kisses the other on the cheek, forehead, or head.
Take a shot when Hangman tries to show you how to properly play pool.
Take two shots if you hold hands.
Finish your drink if you guys end up dancing together.
Needless to say, the members of the Dagger Squad are more on track for liver failure rather than winning any money.
“I’m never playing that game ever again,” Rooster groaned out to the group the next morning, slumped down in his chair with his aviators placed over his closed eyes.
“Yeah, right. We all know we’ll be doing the same thing when we go out again,” Phoenix argued with him, her state being the same, except she’s leaned forward in her seat, head down and buried in her arms.
“I’ve never drunk so much in my entire life,” Bob groaned out from next to her, sunglasses placed on his nose instead of his usual spectacles for seeing properly.
“I think I’m still drunk,” Fanboy stated, Payback humming in agreement from his seat next to him.
“I’m honestly surprised Penny served us as much as she did last night,” Coyote spoke up.
“It’s because Penny understands the pain we are going through right now with watching the two of them together. I’m starting to seriously think we need to step in and do something about it. I don’t know if my liver can take another night like this,” Rooster told the group.
“What do you expect us to do, Rooster? It’s not like we can just come out and say-,” Coyote was cut off by Pheonix shushing him at the sound of whistling.
Jake Hangman Seresin immediately stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight of his fellow aviators. He couldn’t help but laugh at the hungover group as he slowly walked further into the room, grinning around his toothpick.
“Well, it looks like some people had a fun night,” He said with a chuckle, taking his usual seat at the front of the room.
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Fanboy muttered, causing Payback to send an elbow into his side.
Hangman showed no sign of hearing his muttered phrase and pulled his phone out to reply to a text sent by you.
Darling: Phoenix hasn’t replied to me this morning. Should I be worried?
His smile widened across his face as he replied to you.
Cowboy: Don’t you worry, darling. It looks to me like she and the rest of the group had a long night last night.
Jake discreetly took a picture of the group sitting behind him with their glasses on and sent it to you. Jake then locked his phone back up and placed it into his pocket before turning to look back at everybody.
“Are any of you going to be up to standards today,” He asked curiously.
“We’ll be fine Hangman, don’t you worry about us,” Coyote told his best friend.
“I just hope Maverick won’t be too hard on us today. I think I might puke if we do any crazy maneuvers,” Bob groaned.
“That’s the price to pay for underage drinking Baby on Board,” Jake said smugly from the front of the room.
“You’re such an ass,” Bob whispered, and everybody was too hungover to comment on the unexpected cursing from the WSO.
Everybody remained silent as they heard the door to their room swing open. Maverick quietly stepped into the room and slowly walked to the front, taking in the state of his team. He shook his head in amusement and cursed his girlfriend for serving them as much as she did. He dropped his clipboard on the podium in the front with a bang, causing all of the aviators, minus the cause of the problem, to let out groans of pain.
“Please never do that again,” Rooster groaned out to his godfather.
“Good morning to you too,” Maverick said with amusement in his voice. “Judging by the look of everybody in this room, practicing flight maneuvers is out of the question and is going to have to be moved to a different day.”
A resounding groaned cheer of numerous “thank gods” and “yes, pleases” rang out from the group, causing Hangman to scoff at the group and shake his head.
“That being said, you guys still aren’t off the hook. I want you all down at the beach behind the Hard Deck and ready for dogfight football within the hour,” Maverick ordered the group, causing them to still groan out in disagreement.
“I’d honestly much rather fly a plane than constantly be tackled to the ground,” Rooster argued.
“That’s the point. I don’t want to hear complaints from the maintenance team about having to hose vomit out from your cockpits, but I can’t let you all off the hook. You’re punishment for drinking so much the night before work is dogfight football. See you all in an hour,” Maverick smirked, leaving the room and the aviators to pull themselves from their seats.
-----
“They look like they’re struggling more than usual,” I commented about the sluggish group of aviators on the beach in front of me.
Penny hummed in acknowledgment and amusement before speaking. “All of them but your best friend.”
I followed her gaze to said aviator and blushed when I saw him, tanned skin glistening in the sun, muscles on show for anyone and everyone to see. I sighed wistfully at him as I continued admiring him, knowing full well Penny was also doing so with Maverick.
“They’re all hungover,” Penny reminded me with a smirk, going back to her work sitting in front of her.
“How are they so hungover? Did they keep drinking after Jake gave me a ride home,” I questioned her in disbelief.
“No, they stopped drinking when you left. You just didn’t realize how much they were drinking while you were here,” She explained. “Probably because you were so focused on a certain Lieutenant Seresin.” 
I removed my gaze from the group and glared over at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mhm, sure. Keep telling yourself that,” Penny nodded at me in amusement.
I rolled my eyes at her and looked back at the group to watch Jake do a double take towards our table. I grinned at him and raised my hand in a wave, seeing a wide grin also take over his face and wave back. After his actions, I watched as all of the aviators slowly looked over and had mixed reactions to my presence. Some groaned in what looked like exhaustion while some waved at me with a small smile.
“How long have they been at this,” I questioned Penny curiously.
“A little over an hour. Pete said it was punishment for getting so drunk when they knew they had work the next morning,” Penny told me with a proud grin at the thought of her boyfriend.
“He would punish them for having fun,” I poked at her, causing her to frown at me and kick me under the table. “I was joking. So, what do you think, maybe a little hair of the dog will help them get through it?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Penny argued with me, seeming to know something I don’t know.
“It’ll be fine, Pen,” I argued with her, pulling the back door of the Hard Deck open and making my way to behind the bar.
I began gathering beers together and placing them on top of the bar. I looked around across the bartop to see no bottle opener in sight. I sighed in frustration and began moving jars of garnishes to the side to locate the opener. When unsuccessful, I groaned and squatted down to locate the opener on one of the shelves underneath the bar and let out a small cheer when I saw one behind a glass jar. I pulled the jar out and reached for the opener, placing it up on the bartop. I went to place the jar back when I noticed a heart drawn on it. I furrowed my brows and held it farther away from my face to properly examine it.
I opened the container and looked inside to see rolls of cash shoved inside of it. 
“What the hell,” I murmured to myself in confusion.
I gripped the jar in my hand and walked towards the back door of the bar, pushing it open with my hip and walking towards the bartender.
“Penny, what the hell is a jar with a heart drawn on it stuffed full of cash doing underneath your bar,” I questioned her in confusion.
I could see the woman freeze briefly and some color drain from her face before she looked up at me wide-eyed. I stared at her expectantly and placed the jar on the table in front of her, watching her glance between the jar and myself a few times before speaking.
“It’s…,” She trailed off, causing me to raise my brows at her. “It’s some money I’ve been saving up for a trip for Pete and me. I’ve been hiding it underneath the bar so he doesn’t see it.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Well, I would love to contribute some, if that’s okay,” I started reaching for my purse, causing her to stop me and grab the jar from the table.
“No, that’s okay. That’s not necessary at all,” She shrugged.
“Are you sure,” I questioned her again.
“Positive,” She nodded at me tightly before looking back at the door. “Weren’t you getting drinks for everybody?”
My eyes widened at the reminder and walked back inside to grab the beers I had planned on acquiring previously. After opening all of them I gripped them in my arms and hands and began walking them out to the beach where the aviators continued their game.
“I heard that some of you could use a bit of help in your day,” I called out, gaining their attention.
I heard some sighs of relief and resounding “thank yous” as they all made their way towards me and began taking the beers off of my hands. Jake was the last one to greet me and the grin on his face caused mine to widen as well. He took the beer from my outstretched hand before gripping it and pulling me towards him.
“Thank you, darling,” he told me, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of my head.
“You’re welcome, hotshot,” I grinned at him.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the rest of the group all shared looks before taking four long drinks of their beer in unison.
“Don’t overdo it again guys,” Maverick scolded them, taking a drink of his beer as well before sighing. “We can be done for the day. Get some rest and be ready for work on Monday.”
“Yes, sir,” Rang out around me as everybody sighed in relief at being done for the day.
I giggled at all of them in amusement as I moved closer to Jake and wrapped my arms around his waist. “How are all of you so hungover? Penny told me you stopped drinking after we left last night.”
Everybody stayed quiet at my question and continued drinking their beer, causing me to shrug and hug myself closer to Jake.
“Honey, I’m all sweaty and sandy, I’m sure you don’t want to be touching me right now,” Jake informed me with a grin, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on my face so I was no longer squinting up at him.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him, pressing my face into his chest and admiring his green eyes shining in the sunlight.
Everyone groaned simultaneously and took another long gulp of beer, causing me to squint at them in confusion.
“Is there something we’re missing here,” I questioned all of them curiously.
“Nope,” They all denied in unison.
“Uh-huh,” I nodded at them before looking back up at Jake. “Well, it’s Friday night, what are we doing tonight? Drinks at the Hard Deck again?”
“Sounds good to me. What about you guys,” Jake nodded at me before looking back at the rest of the Dagger Squad.
“Sounds great,” Rooster said after a moment of silence, everybody else hesitantly nodding in unison.
“Awesome. Well, I’m going to head home and get changed, let’s meet back here in an hour to an hour and a half,” I questioned the group, removing myself from Jake’s side and handing his sunglasses back to him.
Everybody nodded as Jake placed another kiss on my head. “Sounds good, darling. I’ll pick you up on my way again.”
I nodded at him in acknowledgment before beginning my trek off of the beach.
---------
“Here, darlin’, you’re holding it wrong, let me help you out,” Jake murmured in my ear, placing his hands over my own and leaning over me.
“I think I know how to do it properly after the many times you’ve shown me before, cowboy,” I giggled out to him, lifting my head to look into his bright green eyes.
“Well, it never hurts to have a refresher,” He replies to me, causing me to nod sheepishly and look back at the task at hand.
“Shots, everybody,” Rooster called out, causing everybody to nod at him reluctantly.
I looked up from the pool table to nod at him as well. “I’ll take one, Roo. Can you also get me another (Y/D)?”
“Sure,” He nodded at me with a tight smile before turning and going to the bar.
Jake led me in my shot once again before we both stood from the table and watched the balls move around. Once my turn was over the next person went and I handed my pool stick to the next person. Jake leaned down towards my ear and told me he was going to help Rooster with the drinks before placing a kiss on my temple. I nodded at him with a bright grin and moved to sit at one of the high-top tables surrounding the pool table. As I sat observing the game in front of me, a very drunk Phoenix came and placed her head on my shoulder, causing me to giggle at her in amusement.
“Can I help you,” I questioned her.
“I’m so drunk,” She informed me, staring at the pool table with a blank expression.
“We’ve only been here two hours,” I said in disbelief. She remained silent and only shrugged in response. “Stop drinking then.”
“I can’t. I would lose the game if I did that, and I can’t lose. I already lost my money, I can’t lose this too. This is your fault by the way,” She groaned out to me, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.
“What the hell are you talking about,” I questioned her.
Coyote stepped forward at that moment and placed his hands on the female aviator's shoulders, moving her away from me and towards her WSO Bob.
“Ignore Phoenix. She’s just had a little too much to drink. You know how she can be sometimes,” Coyote told me, placing his hand on my shoulder
“Uh…,” I trailed off, looking past him at my female friend with confusion still written across my face.
“Here you go, (Y/N),” Rooster said, gaining my attention.
I looked over at him to see him holding my drink up to me with a grin. I smiled at him thankfully and accepted my drink before looking behind him.
“Where’s Jake?”
“Bringing the rest of the shots,” He told me before downing a couple of gulps of his beer in his hand.
I nodded in understanding before looking back at the pool table in front of me. After a few seconds of waiting for Jake, (Y/F/S) began playing from the jukebox, causing my grin to widen and begin searching for the green-eyed aviator and finding him making his way towards me with a smug grin. I smiled at him brightly and downed my shot before standing from my seat.
“You wanna dance,” Jake questioned me smugly, holding his hand out.
My smile widened and I shook my head at him in disbelief. “You do this every time we come here.”
“Nothing wrong with having a routine,” He shrugged at me before gripping my hand tightly and pulling me over to the jukebox.
I couldn’t help but laugh as he began twirling me around in the jukebox lights before pulling me closer to him. I placed my head on his chest as his hands moved to my waist. The two of us swayed comfortably back and forth for the duration of the song, occasionally catching the gazes of the rest of the Dagger Squad who were looking over at us periodically.
“I feel like something is going on with our friends that they’re not telling us,” I murmured to Jake, questioning if he heard me or not.
“What do you mean,” Jake questioned me curiously.
“They’re acting weird,” I pointed out.
“Because the way they normally act is considered normal,” Jake said in amusement, shaking his head at me.
“To me it is,” I said shyly, looking up at him.
Jake shook his head at me again with a grin before speaking. “Alright, what are they doing that has you so concerned?”
I looked up at him in disbelief this time and scoffed. “You’re telling me you seriously can’t see it? The occasional groans when the two of us do anything, the hesitation in agreeing to come out with us tonight, the heavy drinking in our presence, Phoenix telling me that her being drunk is my fault.”
Jake stood and thought before saying his piece. “I think our friends are just weird and annoying.”
I scoffed at him and grinned before shaking my head. “Sure, Seresin. Let’s go with that.”
“Look, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think it might just be me, okay? They have to spend all day with me at work and then the evening with me when we hang out. Being around the same people so much can cause some annoyance,” Jake tried to reassure me.
I sighed and shook my head before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay, I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. I’m always right,” He grinned down at me.
“That is not true,” I giggled at him before he twirled and dipped me.
(Y/F/S) came to an end and the two of us began making our way back towards the group. I walked to the table that I left my drink on and frowned when I saw my glass empty. I looked around the group to see a guilty-looking Phoenix avoiding eye contact. I laughed in amusement and shook my head at her before looking up at Jake.
“I’m going to get another drink. It looks like a drunk Phoenix beat me to this one,” I informed him, gesturing between the female aviator and my cup.
Jake laughed as well and looked back down at me. “I can get you another one, darling.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” I reassured him, grabbing my glass to take to the bar for Penny. 
Jake threw his hands up in surrender and smirked at me as I rolled my eyes, reaching forward and gripping one of his hands to pull it back down to his side. Jake smiled at me in amusement and squeezed my hand briefly before letting it go, gently pushing me towards the bar. I looked back at him with a small smile before trekking over to Penny.
“Another one,” Penny questioned me in shock, looking at my empty glass.
“Yeah, I’m afraid Phoenix beat me to this one,” I said with a gentle laugh.
Penny shook her head before turning to make my drink. I chuckled in amusement and looked back at the group of aviators at the pool table. Jake looked up from his turn at the table to make eye contact with me. He winked at me before making his move, causing me to roll my eyes and move to turn back to the bar. However, I paused in my turn when I noticed a certain spectacled WSO making his way towards me at the bar.
“Hey, Bob. You doing okay,” I questioned him in concern.
Bob nodded at me with a bright grin, slightly swaying in his spot where he stopped next to me. “Yeah, I’m great.”
I nodded in agreement with him before looking over at Penny. “Hey, Pen? Water for the WSO, please.”
Penny nodded at me as Bob began to shake his head. “No, no. I don’t need any water. I’m fine.”
I nodded at his slurred words and laughed a little bit. “Bob, you’re a lightweight on your best day, I think some water would do you some good,” I told him, placing my hand on his shoulder.
Bob drunkenly stared up at me in a haze before he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re totally right. (Y/N), you’re the best. You just care about all of us so much,” He told me, taking my hand on his shoulder in his own and moving it onto the bartop.
“Well somebody has to, Bob, when none of your family is here,” I argued with him, laughing again when he gently laid his head on my shoulder.
“You’re right, again. You're always right, and you’re so smart,” He said softly, nodding his head on my shoulder and causing his glasses to go lopsided from the action.
Penny walked over to the two of us and set my drink and the water on the bartop, causing me to give her a thankful look. I released my hand from Bob’s grip and began pushing the water toward his now free hand.
“Thank you,” He murmured, lifting his head and placing a kiss on my cheek.
I lightly blushed at his actions and shook my head at him. “Don’t thank me until tomorrow morning when your hangover isn’t as bad as it could be.
Bob gave a small giggle and nodded at me in agreement before he began chugging the water. I nodded at him in encouragement and rubbed his shoulder.
--------
Jake watched his best friend walk away from him after gently nudging her in the direction of the bar. His smile was bright until his best friend Javy gained his attention.
“Hey, Hangman, you wanna join?”
Jake broke his gaze from the (Y/H/C) after he was sure she made it to the bar safely. “Yeah, sure.”
Coyote handed him a pool stick as Rooster and Payback racked the balls. He took continuous glances at his friend as he waited his turn, telling himself that he was just making sure she was safe.
“Hey, Hangman, how about you stop staring at your girlfriend and you pay attention to the game,” Natasha slurred from her spot next to Rooster.
Rooster nudged the female and gave her a small glare at her words, causing her to look up at him and shrug innocently.
“It’s not like that,” Jake argued with her.
“Oh, please. Do you honestly think we’re all stupid enough to believe that? There’s a reason we’re the best of the best,” Natasha argued back, rolling her eyes at him.
“I think that only applies to flying,” Fanboy spoke up while Coyote began scolding the woman.
“Natasha, knock it off,” Coyote said to her sternly, leaning back up from the pool table after taking his turn.
“Why? I’m just stating the obvious. You said it yourself, Jake’s in love with (Y/N) and she’s in love with him and neither of them wants to admit it,” She slurred out with a shrug.
“That’s not what’s going on. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jake argued with her again.
“Mhm, yeah sure. You’re delusional then,” Phoenix finished off before shrugging and moving to sit with Fanboy at his table.
Jake continued to stare at the woman in deep thought until Coyote placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“Hey, man, just ignore her. You know how she can be. She’s just busting your balls,” Coyote told him.
“Yeah, no, yeah, I know. It’s just… Phoenix being Phoenix,” Jake agreed with him quietly before looking back at the game at hand.
“But on a brighter note, you gotta admit that (Y/N) is looking pretty damn good tonight,” Coyote commented, causing Jake to follow his gaze and a mesmerized smile to take over his face.
“Yeah, she does,” He breathed out, taking in the woman across the room.
Coyote looked between the two people and shook his head in amusement before landing a smack to his chest. “Your turn.”
Jake nodded at him and turned towards the pool table to take his turn. He looked up from where he was leaning over to take his turn to check on his best friend again. A smile overcame his face at the sight of her already looking over at him. Jake couldn’t help but send her a wink before making his move, causing her to roll her eyes in amusement and turn back to the bar. Jake stood back up from his position and watched the next person take their turn until Fanboy spoke up from where he was sitting with Phoenix.
“Where’d Bob go?”
All he could see was red. He looked away from his best friend long enough to take another turn at 9-ball, and when he looked back up Phoenix’s nerdy WSO was putting drunken moves on (Y/N).
He watched as Bob grabbed your hand from his shoulder as you talked and gripped it in his own. He watched as the man placed his head on your shoulder and you laughed at something he said. However, the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he placed a kiss on your cheek. Jake had never asked Coyote to hold his beer and pool stick as fast as he did at that moment. The drunk aviator fumbled to hold the items and dropped the pool stick with a clang as Jake began to take quick strides across the Hard Deck towards the two individuals at the bar. His strides became even quicker at the site of his best friend rubbing Bob’s shoulder as he chugged a glass of water.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing Baby on Board,” Jake questioned the WSO darkly.
Jake watched you turn to him with a look of utter confusion at his tone out of the corner of his eye but refused to take his eyes off the man standing in front of him. Bob slowly lowered the glass of water back down to the bar and wiped his mouth before looking over at his fellow aviator.
“Just drinking some water,” Bob informed him with a bright grin before picking the cup back up.
“Jake,” you whispered to him, trying to gain his attention.
Jake didn't remove his eyes from Bob and straightened up, taking a step between the two of you. Your confusion was furthered when he made this move, looming over Bob with a threatening demeanor.
“Jake, what the hell are you doing,” You questioned him, placing your hand on his arm and pulling him away from the clueless aviator.
Jake still refused to look away from Bob, causing you to move around the side of him and step between the two. Jake finally removed his gaze from Bob long enough to look down at you. You raised your eyebrows at him in question and watched his face soften. You sighed in slight annoyance and shook your head at him before turning around to look at Bob.
--------
“Hey, Bobby, how about you take your water and go join everybody else again, yeah,” I questioned him sweetly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Okay,” Bob nodded at me with a smile, turning around and making his way back toward the group.
I watched and waited until he was greeting everybody else before turning back around and looking at Jake.
“What the hell was that,” I questioned him, looking up at him in shock and disbelief.
“What do you mean “what the hell was that?” Baby on Board was clearly making a move on you,” Jake defended looking at me in disbelief as well.
“That's not what was happening. He's drunk Jake. He doesn't know what he's doing,” I argued.
“So that's supposed to make it okay,” Jake threw at me.
“No-,” I started, only to be cut off.
“What do you have the hots for Bob or something,” he added.
“What? No,” I denied quickly, only having a second to shake off my disbelief at his words.
“So it would be completely fine if Rooster were to come over and do the same thing,” He questioned me quickly.
“Wha- Jake,” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.
“Or Coyote, or Pheonix. Maybe even Payback or Fanboy,” he began listing off, causing my frustration with him to grow.
“Jake, seriously,” I slightly whimpered.
“So it's fine for anybody to just come on over and flirt with you and touch you,” Jake snapped back.
“That's not- this isn't-,” I stuttered out, my increasing frustration with the situation making it difficult to properly form a sentence.
“Then what is it, (Y/N)? Tell me what this is. Make this make sense for me,” Jake snapped out at me.
I glared up at him and felt tears beginning to brim in my eyes when I finally snapped “You tell me, Jake. You're the one who made it into something.” 
Jake finally snapped his mouth shut and took a step back from me. He remained quiet but wouldn't remove his eyes from my own.
“What, you have nothing to say now? Because you had plenty a few seconds ago,” I scoffed.
Jake continued to remain silent, now avoiding eye contact. All I could bring myself to do was nod and reach over to grab my drink from the bartop.
“Okay, well… come find me when you finally come up with an excuse for acting like a jealous boyfriend,” I told him, beginning to walk away.
However, I stopped when I felt him place his hand on my elbow.
“What if it were me,” he asked me quietly, causing me to turn and face him with obvious confusion on my face.
“What?”
“What if it were me who was acting like that with you,” he repeated louder. I remained silent as I stared at him, and Jake spoke again at my silence. “What if I didn't just act like a jealous boyfriend and I was actually a jealous boyfriend? Or just a boyfriend in general?”
My confusion changed to shock at his question. I slowly moved back to my spot in front of him and placed my drink back on the bar. I looked down at his hand and watched as it slowly moved from my elbow and down my arm to intertwine with my hand.
“Then I would tell you there's no reason to be jealous because you're the only one I have eyes for,” I told him quietly, looking up from our hands to gaze into his eyes.
I could visibly see the tension turn into relief at my words. See his shoulders relax, his eyes soften slightly, his pinched lips release into a small smile. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something in response, but quickly shut it instead.
“You can kiss me now,” I said to him in encouragement.
“Oh, thank god,” Jake said in relief before releasing my hand to cup my face in both of his, placing his lips on my own.
I released a breath of relief myself at the feeling of his lips against my own, the feeling of his hands holding my face delicately, almost as if he were afraid that I would break. My hands raised to wrap around his wrists, gently gripping them in my own and rubbing my thumbs against the delicate skin. It was a gentle kiss that turned into one filled with passion. He released my lips briefly before moving in for one more. And then one more turned into two… three… until the sound of cheering echoed across the bar, causing the two of us to pull away and look towards the sound. A bright grin broke out across my face at the sight of the rest of the Dagger Squad looking over at us and cheering as if their home team just won a championship game. I began laughing in amusement at the group before looking up at Jake, seeing him have the same reaction as me before looking back down at me.
“I’m sorry to tell you this Darling, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be able to get rid of me,” Jake informed me with a faux smile of apology.
“That’s alright. I think I just might want to keep you around for a little while,” I smirked up at him before wrapping my hand around his neck to pull him into another breathtaking kiss.
---------
Meanwhile, the Dagger Squad watched their two friends with smiles on their faces and relief in their bodies at the thought of no longer having to watch the two of them dance around each other.
“It’s about time,” Coyote said, resulting in everybody letting out different noises and statements of agreement.
“So, wanna bet on when they’ll get engaged,” Rooster questioned, causing everyone to start shouting out dates and timespans.
However, this lasted for a short time due to Phoenix speaking up from her spot next to a still-drunk Bob.
“Wait, who won the original bet,” She questioned.
The group all looked around at each other curiously before looking over at the Hard Deck owner who appeared at their side with her glass jar in her hand.
“Bob won,” She stated simply.
“What,” Was the resounding answer in disbelief.
She nodded at them in amusement before answering. “He won by two weeks. Predicted it would happen by (Y/N)’s birthday.”
The group looked over at a now passed-out Bob, his head slumped down on the table and Phoenix running her hand over his head gently.
“Did he technically cheat,” Fanboy questioned his friends, pointing over at Bob.
“There’s no way he was smart enough to do that when he’s that drunk. I think it was just a lucky break,” Payback argued with him, causing Rooster and Coyote to nod in agreement with the frontseater. 
Penny made her way over to the WSO and gently shook him, causing him to raise his head from the table in a haze, looking over at the bartender in confusion.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” She smirked at him, leaving the jar in front of him before walking off back to the bar.
Bob looked down at the jar in confusion before looking at all of the aviators in front of him who were looking at him in disbelief.
“Did I win?”
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diagnosedpsychosis · 4 months
Text
Love At First Sight- Jake Seresin
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Contains: A little bit of weight/body insecurity from reader, shy/coward jake, just as shy reader, fluff
Description: Jake's been acting a little differently cause he's taken an interest in you and doesn't want you to think he's a jerk. All the while he's too nervous to make a move.
Word Count: 1.4k
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Jake didn't know what had come over him so hard that the confident man he was just weeks ago, had been replaced with a coward. He noticed it. His teammates noticed it. Even the bar regulars noticed that suddenly one of the cockiest, loudest, most outgoing men in San Diego had turned into a borderline hermit.
His regular game of darts with Javy had become a once in a blue moon activity. His teasing of Bradley, Bob and Nat ceased the moment they were finished work for the day. Even the usual 6 or 7 beers he'd pound down after a long day had reduced to 2 or 3 at the most.
He had an instinct of knowing when someone was looking at him, like his teammates and would meet their eyes with nothing but a bored stare before they'd look away not wanting to be bummed out by his mood. If only they knew that wasn't how he was feeling at all.
Even tonight, as Jake sits in a corner booth at the Hard Deck, his beer turning warm in his hand, his mouth and the rapid thud of his heart almost betray his exterior as he stares at you across the bar. You're talking to Penny, the easy smile on your face enough to make the corner of his lips twitch as he sits still, imagining all the things he'd say to you if he only had the courage to get off his ass.
Then he feels eyes on him and looks away, shooting a hard look in Javy and Reuben's direction. They both whirl around, turning their backs to him and then he's back to looking at you.
"He looking again?" Penny mumbles, leaning over the bar and grinning up at you. You've been caught glancing around the room again as to not make it obvious you were staring right back at the handsome blond.
"Mmm" You hum, biting on the inside of your cheek to try and stop yourself from grinning like a fool. You glance around again, eyes moving swiftly over him and onto the next person despite the desperate yearning in your chest, begging you to look at him again.
"I don't know why you don't just go and talk to him" Penny leans forward, lowering her tone so that there isn't a chance another guy in uniform hears the exchange. You whine, bouncing your foot like you were trying to get rid of a cramp.
"Have you met me? I'll take two steps and sweat my face off" You've never been overly confident and you had High School to thank for it. It didn't matter that it's been a decade since you graduated, growing up an overweight girl and not dropping the weight until you were in your 20's made you overly receptive to judgement.
You felt better now, more confident and happier, but because you didn't get to experience that bittersweet 'teenage love', you weren't really sure how dates and interest in people being reciprocated worked. Slowly losing weight late when everyone was getting boyfriends, or pregnant or even married didn't help either.
You'd noticed guys flocking to your pretty, skinny friends on nights out, and despite how beautiful your friends promised you were, your weight was the first thing they saw. If you smiled their way you were just the sweet, chubby girl that looked like she'd drank a whole bar empty and didn't know what was in and out of her league.
You'd never really had experience talking to guys, your Dad and brother not included, so the fact a ridiculously handsome man in uniform, that you're sure never would've spared you a glance when you were bigger, had been staring at you for weeks now, made you beyond nervous to make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him like Penny has tried to convince you to do for a while now.
"Well hey, if he doesn't love your nervous sweats then he doesn't deserve you" Penny tried to make you feel better, squeezing your arm before standing back up straight to fix a couple orders from some guys at the end of the bar. Your smile slowly falls from your face and internally you curse at yourself for not having the courage to even just go and say hi.
What you don't realise is Jake's doing the same, beating himself up for becoming so darn weak that he can't stand up, take a deep breath and walk over to you. Flying planes and risking his life were easy, but talking to a pretty woman he's been coming to the Hard Deck every day for 3 weeks purely with hopes of even just seeing? He felt like he couldn't breathe.
But then he watches your exchange with Penny, his heart beating twice as hard when for the first time in 3 weeks he watches the smile he's come to adore slowly fade from your face when Penny turns her back to you. He notices your heavy exhale and the drop of your shoulders. He notices you running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the glass in your hand that you're yet to take a sip of. He notices the slight crease of your eyebrows when you gnaw on your lip, and suddenly... he's never wanted to lift someone's mood so desperately before.
He doesn't give himself even a second to talk himself out of making his way to you, the need to see your smile again all too consuming.
Whatever's on your mind has your full attention, that even when the guy you've been watching for the last 3 weeks sits down on the stool beside you, his knee grazing yours, you fail to notice and keep tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.
Jake didn't know what the hell to say that didn't make him come across as an obsessed stalker, so he tried a humorous take instead. "You know, I almost wore that exact same top today. How embarrassing would that have been if we matched?"
His voice floats right into your ear and you turn your head, sucking in a sharp breath when you realise the person that's just spoken to you, is the same person you're making yourself insecure over. You open your mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to say as you're still trying to process the fact he's finally spoken to you, before closing your mouth again.
You look down at the obviously very feminine top you paired with plain jeans, and finally his words sink in. Your lips curve up and the moment of internal terror Jake had as you stared at him in silence, washed away.
"Only embarrassing if you pulled it off better than me" Jake's mouth pulls up into an easy smile as he stares right back at you, both completely oblivious to the group of pilots watching the exchange in surprise.
"I find it hard to believe anyone could" The flirtation rolls of Jake's tongue and he can't help grin at the sight of your cheeks flushing as you turn your head away from him slightly, looking ahead. Jake's eyes bounce over your features up close and he wonders how somebody could look so beautiful from afar, and even more mesmerising up close. He regret's not talking to you the second he saw you.
"I'm Jake" He blurts the words, almost like he can't contain them any more. The longer he goes without properly introducing himself and learning your name, the more desperate he becomes to know anything and everything about you. You look back and his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips as they curve up in the most beautifully natural smile.
Sure, he's wanted to kiss you since the moment he spotted you, but right now, as he stares at your mouth and the faint dimple poking at your cheeks, he's never been more content seeing another person happy in his life.
"Y/n" You reply softly and immediately your name is carved and filled with pure liquid gold, in Jake's heart. His heart beats to the letters of your name in morse code. His eyes fill with so much hope as he stares at you, like finding out your name is the greatest gift he could've ever gotten.
And as you stare right back at him, he wonders if telling you he's in love with you before even the suggestion of a first date is too soon.
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My first Top Gun: Maverick short. Hope it was okay <3
739 notes · View notes
ohtobeleah · 2 months
Text
Cards Close to the Chest // Bob Floyd
Summary: When Bob & Phoenix fall from the sky, Bob’s closest kept secrets come to light as two of the most important people in his life race to his side.
Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!reader. Fluff (poorly written) Mild cock-sure Jake Seresin. Hospitals. F18 accident. Wholesome read.
Word Count: 3k
Author Note: I was just feeling some fluffy Bob content and I thought this would be a good way to break up the tension with all my over dramatic angst/whump. Thank you so much to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this for me! Vee did gods work with this one.
Main Masterlist | Bob Floyd Masterlist
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No significant other wants to receive that call. That dreaded call that tells you that the inevitable has happened. That phone call that sucks all the air from your lungs and replaces it with cement. The very phone call that alters your perception of life, of time, of all the small arguments you ever had with the person you love so dearly. It's the phone call no significant other wants to receive. 
“Is this Mrs Floyd?” The man on the other end of the line asked with a cautiousness that told you he really didn't want the answer to be yes. Your daughter, Millicent, sat in her high chair smashing bananas all over the surface of her tray. Getting to know the texture of the latest solid you had introduced her to. 
“This is she? May I ask who's speaking?” You didn't mean to come across as defensive, but the panic inside your chest had well and truly begun to bloom. Your eyes lingered over to the pair of spare reading glasses your husband left lying around the small apartment the two of you and your young daughter had been staying in. If this was the phone call, the very phone call that was about to alter your life forever you couldn't help but to think of the last time you saw your husband wear those frames. 
“Mrs Floyd, Y/n, my name is Pete Mitchell, Captain Mitchell, or Just Mav will do–” The man on the other end of the line rambled off the list of names he went by. You didn't care all that much, but you let him go on. Your eyes drifted back toward your daughter, the very embodiment of half you and half your husband. Robert Floyd. In your mind, you prayed to whatever god was listening that this wouldn't be the phone call every military spouse dreaded. 
“There was an accident during a training exercise your husband was involved in this morning.” The words all sounded broken and inaudible, all but the few key details.
‘Husband’ ‘Involved’ ‘Accident’ 
“Is he–” Mav knew what the question was going to be, so he gave you no chance to ask, he wanted to be the one to call, he wanted to be the one to tell you that although your husband had been involved in a training accident, he was still in one piece and very much alive. 
“He's alive, still very much in one piece ma’am–” Mav caught himself smiling ever so slightly, despite the looming knowledge in the back of his mind that the situation could have been a lot worse. “They want to keep him overnight for observation, so if you'd like to come in and see him, I'm sure Bob would really appreciate it.” 
The sigh that left your body, the shock that overwhelmed you, the tears that stained your cheek you weren't aware were there all told you one thing—you couldn't live without your husband. 
“O–okay.” You nodded to yourself as if the man on the other end of the line could see you. “Y-yes, I’ll, uh, just get our daughter sorted and I'll be right in.” 
It was then Maverick’s turn to sit in the deafening silence that threatened to consume his entire being. Bob had a daughter? That added a whole other layer to the incident he hadn’t accounted for. 
Bob kept that card close to his chest, his daughter, Mille, was his pride and joy. 
“Try to keep in mind he's okay Mrs Floyd,. Your husband’s a very skilled weapons system officer and his training truly saved his life today.” You hadn’t taken your eyes off your daughter since you remembered how to breathe as you stood in the middle of the small apartment kitchen. She was so innocent, so young, so mesmerised by her dad that she would have known something was wrong if he didn't come home. 
“It's never been my husband's ability that I doubt, Captain Mitchell.” You replied as you wiped away your tears and reached for a sponge to go about cleaning up your daughter's high chair mess. “It's the system he works for that keeps me up at night.” 
***~***~***~***~***~
Jake Seresin had never been so relieved when he was told that both Bob and Phoenix were alright and almost injury-free. Phoenix had a few bumps and bruises, a minor cut on her forearm, and a minor concussion that would surely see her grounded for a week at the minimum. 
Bob was the same, only his ribs had taken a pretty nasty beating when he hit the ground with an unprecedented amount of force. Still, the usually arrogant, somewhat self-loathing, and above all infuriatingly good aviator wasn't about to say how relieved he truly was. 
But he did, however, offer to take Phoenix some personal belongings for her overnight stay in the chateau short-stay ward of the Miramar Base Hospital. 
“Just hold on a minute, sweetheart!” 
Jake didn't mean to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but the ear-piercing cries of a child that couldn't have been any older than one broke him out of his mid-afternoon trance. The carpark at the Base hospital was packed to the rafters, but surely there would have been a parent’s park closer to the entrance? 
Jake wished with every fibre of his being that he could have kept walking, he wished he just could have kept putting one foot in front of the other. But his mother raised him right. With a heavy sigh and a regret deep in his chest, Jake doubled back a few paces and turned his attention to the woman struggling to get up the stroller. 
“Ma’am, I hate to be a bother but do you need a hand?” 
“Me?” You turned around to address the man who’d been the only person to stop while others had walked right on past and whispered under their breath. Some had even stopped to watch, but no one had offered a hand. “Yes, yes please I just need someone to–” 
Assessing the situation, Jake was sure he knew what the issue was. 
Within a few seconds of you trying to explain what was wrong, the man who’d stopped to help had placed the bag he was carrying over his shoulder down onto the ground and stepped hard onto the safety that was jammed. 
“How did you know to do that?” You asked with a look of disbelief as you immediately raced around to grab your daughter out of the car. She was distraught. “Shhh, I’m here, see I told you just a few minutes, didn't I baby?” You tried your best to soothe the crying tot. 
“My sister has the same stroller, gets jammed all the time.” the man smiled politely as he stood by the now perfectly erected stroller. “Jake, Jake Seresin.” 
“I recognise the callsign–” You replied when you finally allowed yourself to take in what the man was wearing. The same Nomex flight suit your husband frequented more often than not. “Yeah, Hangman, you work with my husband.” You beamed as you bounced your daughter softly until she was calm enough to be placed into her stroller. 
Jake was racking his brain trying to figure out who the hell your husband was. He thought he knew everything about everyone he worked with. From the secrets Rooster tried to keep to the fact Payback had a raging nut allergy. BuUt a wife and child? Who the hell had a wife and child and hadn’t bothered to mention it? 
“I work with your husband?” Jake repeated back to you like he was still trying to play catch up. “Sorry, I must be having a mind blank, with all due respect to your husband.” 
“Bob Floyd?” You mentioned your husband's name like it was honey on your tastebuds. Jake truly couldn't compute what you were saying. Bob fucking Floyd was married? Bob Floyd had a kid!? “He had a training accident earlier today with his front seater, scared the absolute hell out of me.” You tried to laugh, but you weren't about to mention to Jake that you'd spent the better half of forty-five minutes in the shower with your daughter having a full-blown panic attack after Mav had called. 
“You're Bob's wife?” Jake asked with a frown that was so deeply indeed on his forehead you truly weren’t sure what was so wrong about the fact you were Bob's wife. “Bob has a wife?” As you clipped your daughter in, Jake picked up the bag he’d been carrying up to the entrance of the hospital before he stopped to help you. 
“Together seven, married for three.” You proudly smiled as you started walking your daughter’s stroller towards the hospital. Jake kept himself in line, walking by your side as he tried to compute the information he was being delivered. “Bob’s a pretty private person, please don't be offended if he didn't tell you we existed.” This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last time you were left to explain that yes, your husband was in fact your husband. 
The chuckle that left Jake's mouth told you it wasn't about being offended. 
“No Ma'am, no offence taken–” He explained through the shit- eating grin. “I just wasn't aware Bob had it in him is all.” The idea Bob had a wife was an easier pill to swallow than Bob having a whole ass child. In Jake's mind, Bob was far too ill-equipped to know how to use what he had. Or at least that was the rough opinion he had of the wallflower-esk weapons system officer. “But it's nice to know the guys got a family.” 
“He does, he’s got us–” You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears. “Isn't that right, Millie girl?” 
Jake had never stopped to wonder what the loves of his coworkers were like. Sure, he knew Phoenix and Rooster prior to their return to TopGun, but never once had he stopped to think if Bob had a family. 
“He’s a real lucky guy.” Jake confirmed as he walked with you. “Gorgeous wife, cute kid, I'm sure he’s gonna be really happy to see you after the day he’s had.” 
***~***~***~***~***~
In all the time Bob had flown for the United State Navy, this had been his closest call with death. The bed sheets that covered the small hospital bed scratched at his exposed skin. The paper-thin hospital gown that now adorned his body left little to the imagination if he stood. 
The very last person Bob expected to see enter his hospital room was Jake Seresin. Bob thought he was having an all-out nightmare when the cock-sure aviator walked in with a shit-eating grin as wide as his cheeks would allow him. 
“No–no absolutely not.” Bob shook his head in utter disbelief. “You don't get to come in here and give me shit after I fell hundreds of metres out of the sky.” It had been a rough day to say the very least and all Bob wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to hug you and his baby girl. “Hangman, I'm so serious right now–” Bob pressed as Jake stood with a proud chest and that smug ass grin by the door of his hospital room, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. 
“You know, that's no way to talk to the man who saved your damsel in distress wife in the carpark–” Jake replied as you rounded the corner and pushed your daughter’s stroller into the hospital room. “Funny, I don't think any of us knew you were married, Floyd.” 
Bob's demeanour immediately softened as you made your way over with tears of mixed emotions welling in your eyes. Bob’s eyes mimicked yours, those baby blue eyes were quick to fill with clear but heavy tears as you sat on his bedside. 
“I'll leave you guys alone.” Jake knew when to leave a room, and he had someone else to go see after all. Phoenix, probably the only woman on the planet who could keep his ego from inflating to new heights. “Put some WD40 on the safety of your daughter's stroller too. It's starting to lock up–” Jake made sure to tell Bob before he left the room, still carrying the bag full of Natasha’s personal belongings he promised he would hand deliver. Bob's precious cargo however, the family that loved him to the moon and back and three times over, seemed like a more pressing delivery to complete first. 
“Bob–” Your hands were on your husband's cheeks the second Bob leaned in to kiss your lips ever so tenderly. The pads of your thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that spilled over his lower lash line, staining his cheeks with a salty layer of tears. “What on earth am I gonna do with you, hey?” You smiled through the kiss, speaking against your husband's supplye lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Falling from the sky like that? You scared me half to death.” 
“I’m sorry–” It was the first thing Bob was able to muster as you pulled away and reached down for your little girl. “I'm so sorry. Phoenix got us out of a pretty rough spot, she's the reason I'm still here.” 
You’d never met the woman who was currently flying with the love of your life, but you had to trust her. There was no room to not to. 
“Someone was enjoying her banana mush when Captain Mitchell called.” You explained as you picked up your daughter and handed her to Bob who was waisting with open arms and bright eyes. He was so relieved to be able to hold his daughter again, you could see that much as clear as day. “Isn't that right Millie, yeah–yeah, Dad really threw a spanner in the works, didn't he?” 
“Hey, baby girl.” Bob mumbled into the crook of his little girl's neck as he held her close to his chest. The burn in his ribs was worth it as she used his thighs as a stable surface to tiptoe on. “Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you both.” 
“We love you so much.” You leaned in once again to kiss your husband's lips. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You don't get to scare me like this again, okay?” 
Bob knew that you knew he couldn't promise you that, that was the worst part. He knew this could happen again and possibly be a worse outcome than this. But Bob also knew you needed reassurance he was here, that he was safe and that he wasn't going anywhere. 
Death himself would have to drag him down to hell kicking and screaming before he ever left you. 
“I'm not going anywhere baby, not now, not ever.” Bob cooed as he kissed you back, thankful he got to come home to his girls after such a life-threatening accident. The WSO knew he would have to see a shrink before getting in the cockpit again. How he was going to explain away the nightmares of leaving his wife a widow and his daughter fatherless he’d never know. “I’m here, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.” 
“Phoenix, I don't think you're supposed to be walking?” Jake's voice echoed down the hall as you and Bob looked towards the door of his hospital room. There, in the doorway, stood Natasha Trace with wide eyes and shocked horror written all over her face. It was clear to you at that moment that Bob hadn’t told her either, Bob hadn’t told anyone about you or his daughter. You were the two closest cards he kept close to his chest. 
“You have a family!?” Phoenix asked almost as if the answer was unclear. “Bob, you have a family and didn't tell me? Didn't tell any of us?” There was a rhyme to Bob's reasoning as to why he kept the two of you a secret. Bob just wanted something all for himself. He liked to keep his work life and private life as separate as possible. The Navy could be all-consuming on its best days, coming home to you and knowing not a single person could interrupt or stop by was simply the best version of heaven neither Bob could ever think of. 
He just wanted his family all to himself, something the Navy couldn't control, couldn't touch, couldn't taint. 
“Nix, this is my wife, Y/n, and my daughter Millicent.” Bob introduced the pair of you softly. “My best girls. “My whole world is in these two.” 
You sent the clearly distressed aviator a simple smile and a soft wave as you stood from your husband’s beside. You understood this was a lot for her to take in. The idea that her WSo had more to lose than she ever thought. 
“I'm still getting over the fact you have a daughter.” Jake interrupted from behind Phoenix as you walked closer to where she stood to take her in a warm embrace. 
“Jealousy is a disease, Seresin, I can tell you exactly how I made my daughter too if you want?” Bob held his daughter in hips lap as she babbled to herself as he helped her stand on her feet. She wasn’t walking yet, not even close. But she loved to stand. 
“My husband tells me you’re the reason he's still alive.” You spoke to Natasha like she deserved to be told this accident wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It shouldn't have happened to your husband and his front seater, but that was the luck of the draw–and you were blatantly aware it could have been much, much worse. 
“So, thank you for making sure he gets to come home another night.”
***~***~***~***~***~
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dckweed · 8 months
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Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."
baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!
please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!
anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?
warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!
"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader
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It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.
"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.
One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."
Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.
"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.
"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.
"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"
"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?
"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.
"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.
"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.
After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.
"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.
"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.
"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"
You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.
"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.
"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."
Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.
You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.
Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.
"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"
The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.
Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.
Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.
You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.
"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.
You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.
"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"
"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"
Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.
"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.
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callsign-peach · 1 year
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the beanery
summary: jake goes from drinking the base’s stale coffee to bringing in cups from the cafe down the road from the hard deck, and the dagger squad is determined to find out why
pairing: established hangman x female!reader
a/n: the title? has almost nothing to do w the plot, but it’s the name of the coffee shop!!
--- Javy was the first to notice, but it was only because he had gone with Jake to your coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. He had been talking to his best friend about some plans for the newest aviators, and didn’t realize Jake had an end location in mind.
“What’s that?” Bradley asked, eyes honing in on the white take-out cup that Jake was sipping from.
“Hm?” The blonde asked, pocketing his phone and looking at his wingman. “Oh, just some coffee from that new place.”
Javy took a swig of his own Thermos to hide his smirk.
“Oh? The one near the Hard Deck? Penny said the owner’s been in a few times to ask about some tax shit.”
Jake nodded absentmindedly, he already knew this information. “Yeah, they’ve got some good stuff.”
He met Javy’s knowing eye and sent him a look, and Javy was thankful looks couldn’t kill.
Before anyone else could get a word in, Pete entered the room alongside a dozen newly-adorned Top Gun students, raring to go up in the air.
--- You heard the belle chime on the door, calling out to the patron that you’d be a moment. 
Slicing the now-empty cardboard box, you slid it between the wall and the trashcan, hoping you’d remember to take it out to the dumpster before trash day. 
Walking out into the bar, you smiled when you saw your boyfriend leaning along one of the columns in the seating area. “Hey, J. How was your day?”
“Good, you?” Jake asked, thanking you as you handed him a toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese. You almost keeled over when you found out your boyfriend’s go-to pastry at the cafe was a plain bagel, losing it when he spread pink cream cheese over it.
“I can’t believe you go for those bagels over my croissants!” You laughed, taking a sip from the iced coffee you made yourself about half an hour ago.
“Oh, what’s that? New syrup? Sauce? Lemme try.” Jake reached over for the clear plastic cup, puckering his lips over the straw. “Oh, babe, I don’t know about that one.”
Laughing, you nodded over to the dainty chalkboard wall with the featured drink. “Raspberry vanilla iced latte. You don’t like raspberries.” 
Jake hummed, face falling when his phone chirped from his pocket. “Damn, duty calls.”
Duty referred to drinks at the Hard Deck, a weekly tradition the dagger squad kept up once they were stationed at Miramar for good.
“Don’t know why you don’t just offer to have drinks here sometime. I can make espresso martinis or whatever shit Javy’s trying to make at our place.” 
Jake chewed the thought over, pulling his lip between his teeth. “Soon, I just like having my little secret barista girlfriend.” 
Scoffing, you playfully slapped your boyfriend’s chest. “Barista? I’m a full-fledged business owner, Seresin! Get it right!”
Jake laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple with a promise to be home before midnight. --- Stopping the timer on her watch, Natasha stepped into the cool air of the newest cafe in MIramar after her morning run, thankful for the air conditioning. 
“Good morning! Welcome to The Beanery, can I get anything started for you?”
Looking at the woman behind the counter, Natasha felt like she’d seen the woman somewhere before. “Oh, um, sure. Iced coffee, no creamer.”
“Any flavors?” You asked, scooping ice into the branded cup.
“Caramel?” Natasha smiled, and you laughed and pumped some caramel syrup into her cup.
“Oh, this is so much better than the base coffee!” Natasha smiled, depositing her change into the tips jar. 
“Base? You’re in the Navy?” You asked, setting some mugs out on the counter. 
Sure am. Naval aviator, originally was only here for a quick mission a couple years ago, but I guess they thought we were good enough to stick around.”
You smiled, setting the drying towel on the counter as the bell chimed for another customer coming in. “My boyfriend’s in the Navy, I’ll have to ask if he knows you.”
“Who knows! Thanks again for the coffee!” Natasha smiled as she left, taking her time walking back to her apartment and changing into her khakis.  --- “You, too?! Man, everyone’s getting coffee at the new place!” Mickey spoke as Natasha finished off her iced coffee.
Jake looked up from where he was texting you about the chocolate pastries you were experimenting with selling. 
He saw the plastic cup he had helped unpack the weekend prior, curious if his colleague had met you or one of your employees. 
“Yeah, it’s really good, and the food looked so good! I might go after work again to grab another drink.”
“Oh, I’m coming with. I need to try this coffee if you and Bagman say it’s good!” Bradley added, tossing a ball of paper at the blond man’s head.
Soon enough, the entire dagger squad was planning a short jaunt over to your coffee shop, Jake included. --- The bell chimed and took you from your thoughts, thankful for the distraction from the pastries you were trying to laminate.
“Welcome to the Bean- oh. Back so soon?” You asked, smiling as you saw Natasha walk back in, flanked by some other Navy men. “And you brought friends? Man, my confidence is sky-high right now.” 
Natasha laughed, though she missed the teasing look you gave your boyfriend as he walked in. “Sorry, I just can’t enjoy anything. These rats always have to tag along.” 
You snorted, starting on Jake’s drink absentmindedly. “What can I get you guys?”
The aviators all ordered, but when it was Jake’s turn to speak up, you smirked. “What can I get for you, Lieutenant Seresin?” 
Jake smiled, wanting nothing more than to swipe the flour off of your cheek. “Iced macchiato, extra caramel.”
“You know what a macchiato is, right? You bitch about me pouring any milk in my coffee, they’re like 90% milk!” 
You laughed as Bradley pointed to the cup, exasperated.
“Shut up, Birdbrain.”
Silently setting all the drinks at the end of the bar, you slid Javy one of the oatmeal cookies you made earlier. “Since I was out of them last week.”
“Thanks, but you know I was just going to grab some next time I was at your and Jake’s place.”
Shrugging, you watched as Bob seemed to put the dots together, silently sipping his Americano with a knowing look.
“Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but do you know anyone on base? I swear I’ve seen you before!” Natasha said, curiosity getting the best of her. 
You smiled, twinkle in your eyes. “My boyfriend’s an aviator, maybe you’ve seen me around with him? I don’t know, though. I just moved out here recently.”
Javy coughed into his coffee, trying to disguise his laugh. 
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Rueben asked, curious.
Smile growing wider, you simply nodded towards Jake. “Jake.”
“What the fuck?” Bradley asked, jaw falling open. 
Natasha and the rest of the aviator, sans Bob and Javy, all stared at the two, heads swiveling to look at the couple. “In your locker! There’s a photo of her in there, that’s where I’ve seen you before!” 
“You keep a photo of me in your locker? Cute.” You teased, coming out from behind the bar to stand with your boyfriend’s friends.
Jake blushed, offering you a sip of his coffee. “All right, all right, yes, everyone meet my girlfriend.”
You smiled, officially introducing yourself, promising to catch up more with the aviators after you heard the alarm going off for the croissants in the back oven.
“Damn, Hangman, you did good.” Rueben clapped his friend on the back. 
“Yeah, I did.” --- a/n: i like this couple idea a lot but i cannot write it i have too many thoughts going through my head so def expect more !!!!!! send requests, chat to me about this trope at literally any time !!!
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roosterforme · 2 days
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Covering the Classics Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: Anna was afraid to face her new friends after the night out at the bar. Admitting she was attracted to Bob was easier to do than explain why she couldn't have him. When she finally sends him some book recommendations, she finds his taste in books familiar in an all too intimate way. 
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)
Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!
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Anna spent the rest of her weekend working on lesson plans and looking at Bob's number saved in her phone. She had compiled a mental list of titles she thought he would like, and she'd even pulled a few dog-eared books from her own collection and stacked them up on her narrow counter. She would absolutely love to have Bob borrow them from her, but she'd completely messed everything up.
Why, when confronted with a decent man, did she shut everything down and destroy all hope? Because of Kevin. That's why. She knew this crush on Bob was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, but she still caught herself looking at his contact information on Sunday evening with longing in her heart.
She made herself a sad sandwich for dinner and packed herself a second sad sandwich for lunch the next day and then she settled in with her computer. The idea of taking her sad sandwich to the quad and eating with her friends was making her anxious. What if they didn't even want her around now that she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of their friend? What if they looked up at her as she approached them sitting on the bench with their perfect, beautiful lunches and scowled with their perfect, beautiful faces? 
"Oh no," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. She really liked them, but they probably hated her now. And she really liked Bob, but he probably went home with that better looking woman who was at the Navy bar and hadn't thought about Anna one time since. 
She forced her attention to her computer screen which was prompting her for a password. She entered Kev1n1s@t00L and watched as the website she'd had open on her browser came to life. She sighed as she scrolled through her saved favorites on PoetsAmongUs. It was kind of pitiful that she knew what she was going to end up reading before she could actually admit it to herself. Longing whispers in the shadows of my heart, Desire ignites a flame that burns so deep, Devotion woven into every breath I take, Love that knows no boundaries, no end. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river, Binding me to you in a dance of fire, In this symphony of emotions, we find our truth, A love that transcends time, space, and doubt.
Anna whined from her bed in her sad little apartment as she looked at the pen name of her favorite poet before clicking on it. He either never finished filling out his profile or he was being purposely vague. Male, 30s, United States. 
"Sky Writing. The only man I would trust with my heart ever again." She read the poem once more. That was her favorite passage, but she knew everything he posted by heart and got excited every time something new from him popped up every few months. 
It was late enough that she could probably just go to sleep without acknowledging that she hadn't texted Bob and probably never would. She couldn't set foot back in that bar ever again. Maybe that other place that Jessica loved so much would be somewhere she could check out next time she had nothing better to do. Chippy's or something? She started to doze off.
When her alarm started blaring, it was almost like she had slept too well. She'd dreamed about a faceless man with beautiful hands reading poetry to her while he ran his fingers slowly up and down her bare thigh. She couldn't shake the delicious feeling even as her alarm got louder. When she managed to turn it off, she lay there wishing she had time to go on the poetry website and masturbate before work. 
"Stop it," she whispered as she got up and started getting herself ready for the day. 
At least she got to teach English 522 this afternoon. Feminist Literature was becoming one of her favorite classes, as evidenced by her well worn copy of Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu which was in her bag. When she stood in her kitchen and ate a peanut butter granola bar and drank some coffee, she looked at the books she had pulled out as options for Bob, but she shook her head and left for the day without dwelling on how disappointing her life truly was.
Relying solely on public transportation meant leaving a lot earlier than you wanted to, but Anna still barely made it to her office in time to grab her notebook and teach her first lecture of the week. Half of the students still looked like they were asleep while the other half were looking at her like she was a literary messiah. It was almost comical, and when lunchtime rolled around, she was in a pretty great mood. Until she realized she was still on the fence about going to the quad. 
"Just do a vibe check," she muttered as she grabbed her lunch from her office. "If they look pissed off, you can come right back here and never talk to anyone else again for the rest of your life." She could subside on sandwiches and online poetry and only speak when she was giving lectures. That sounded simultaneously amazing and also terrifying.
The college campus was bustling today. There were some guys skateboarding through the quad, and she recognized a few other faculty members from the English department who waved to her. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her heart from thudding in a sickening rhythm that Edgar Alan Poe would think was beautiful. When she spotted the two women on the bench in front of the weird tree, Anna was shocked to see them waving to her with smiles on their faces. 
"Anna!" called Jessica. "You'll never believe it! The vending machine just gave me my bottle of Pepsi and a bonus bottle of ginger ale! Like it knew I was about to see you!"
"Chaos Theory at its finest," said the other woman before she bit into her carrot stick and hummus. 
"It's really more of the Butterfly Effect," Jessica replied. Anna had no idea what they were talking about, but they scooted away from each other on the bench to make room, so she decided to stay.
Anna swallowed hard as she sat and opened her pack of peanuts. "How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked the two of them, and soon her nerves calmed down. 
"Excellent. Bradley and I took a tour of the library yesterday."
"Pretty good. I helped Jake make waffles for breakfast. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. What did you do with the rest of your weekend? After the Hard Deck?"
Anna accepted the bottle of ginger ale that Jessica handed to her as she said, "Um, well I did my lesson plans for the next few weeks. And I started writing my midterm exams. Nothing exciting."
She was met with a bit of awkward silence, and she could feel the two women sharing a look behind her head. "Did you happen to text Bob?" Advanced Calculus asked cautiously, and Anna knew this was the part where it was all over. The dramatic climax, except she was actually the villain in this story.
"No, actually. I think that ship has sailed," she replied softly. 
"Why?" Jessica asked, not unkindly. "When we figured out that you and he already met at the bookstore in North Park, we were ecstatic. He's the mystery guy you were losing your mind over, Anna! The handsome one with glasses who smells so good!"
"He really does smell good," Advanced Calculus muttered as she dipped another carrot into the hummus which was probably unfairly homemade. "Are you no longer attracted to him? Was it his nerdy tee shirt? Or were all the guys so obnoxious you couldn't wait to leave?"
Anna held onto the cold bottle of ginger ale a little tighter as she said, "It's not that at all. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to Bob? And I thought his shirt was kind of charming. And the rest of the guys were welcoming in a slightly intense way."
Now Jessica was turned to face her, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Bob thinks you ran away from him twice now because he's unappealing and boring."
Anna jolted and the pack of peanuts went flying to the ground, nuts rolling in every direction. "He does?" she asked, palms beginning to sweat again.
"Yeah. Big time. But he's quite attracted to you. Apparently the red hair is a thing."
"Oh my god," Anna moaned in embarrassment. Bob liked her red hair? "Oh no. No. No. He's just.... he's so.... and he's also.... I can't even." She took a deep breath as she kicked at the lost peanuts. "Bob is so handsome. It's hard to look into his eyes for too long, because you start to feel like you're going to break out into song. And I don't think I've ever been around a man who smells quite that nice. And he's funny and just a touch nerdy, but that's a good thing." 
There was another beat of silence before Advanced Calculus said, "I'm not really understanding what the problem is."
Anna shook her head and unwrapped her sandwich to keep her hands busy. "Listen, none of my weirdness is because of him. It's all because of me. I can't have a crush on him. I can't be interested in him. I can't be interested in any men whatsoever."
Jessica nudged her shoulder and said, "Maybe you could just text him? Maybe making another new friend wouldn't be so bad?"
--------------------------
"Well if you can't find a girlfriend, I hope you're at least getting your rocks off with an attractive lady."
Bob was cradling his forehead in his hand and trying to escape from Suzanne's house without having this conversation. Whenever he stopped to pick up dinner instead of cooking something at home, he always brought something for her, too. It was the neighborly thing to do, especially when your neighbor was decades older than you, but right now he just wanted to vanish. 
"I wouldn't tell you even if I was," he replied, earning a laugh as she opened up the container of soup at her kitchen table. 
"Sit down and stay for a while," she told him, pointing to the empty chair. "I'll pay you back for dinner with my charm and witticism since you won't accept any money."
His phone started to vibrate in his uniform pocket, and he dug it out thinking it was probably Jessica having finished mocking up her barbarian character for their campaign, but it was a text from an unknown number. He was about to pocket his phone again, but then he saw the words book recommendations and paused. He quickly unlocked the phone and started reading the texts that were coming through.
I have some book recommendations for you if you still want them. I'm sorry I didn't send them over the weekend.
This is Anna, by the way.
I should have started with that information.
Wow. This is already embarrassing.
Bob laughed and started to type back immediately, and then Suzanne's voice cut across his thoughts. "Are you sure you don't have a special lady? You're smiling an awful lot at your phone."
He looked at her and shook his head. "I'm sure. I like this girl, but she doesn't return my feelings that way. She's just sending me some recommendations." He started to back away as he added, "Enjoy your soup. I'll see you later, Suzanne."
"Good night, Robert."
Bob ended up standing just inside his front door as he saved Anna's number and typed back a message to her. He thought keeping it simple would be his best move. Anything more than that and he'd embarrass himself once again by getting ahead of himself with his feelings. 
I would love some more recommendations from you. You're the expert.
He only had to wait about a minute for her response, which was just a list of book after book after book that he'd never even heard of. The first were the ones she'd given to him verbally on Friday night, but the rest were just as foreign to him.
Anna Webber: Persuasion by Austen. Northanger Abbey by Austen, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, and The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas (because you like poetry so much)
Bob quickly ate his own container of soup while he read the list over and over again. Then without changing out of his uniform, he grabbed the keys to his beat up truck and headed to the bookstore in North Park to see if he could find any of these titles before they closed.
The store was virtually empty, and when he climbed the stairs up to the slightly dusty loft he could practically picture Anna's pretty hands and painted nails gliding along all of the spines. He could imagine her pretty, wide eyes looking up at him before she figured out he was boring. He could hear her laugh as he made his way to the spot where they had been standing together.
That horrible Vonnegut book was still there which made him chuckle. "Figures nobody else would want to read it," he muttered as he reached for it. Then he backtracked a little bit to start collecting everything from Anna's list. He referenced his text messages several times, hunting all over the Classics section until he had almost everything in order. Then he spread them out along the shelf and took a photo. He texted it to her before he could second guess himself after he added a short caption. 
Did I miss anything?
He was walking back down to the poetry section when his phone vibrated.
Anna Webber: You're at the bookstore right now? The one in North Park?
Bob froze in the middle of the stairs. He embarrassed himself without even knowing it. He must seem desperate right now. Running out to the store as soon as she sent him the list. "Shit," he groaned softly. When he got another message, he was almost afraid to look at it.
Anna Webber: I LOVE that store. I wish I were there right now, too.
Bob thought that sounded perfect, actually. Maybe if she were here now, she wouldn't run away this time. He'd been playing those kinds of scenarios over and over in his head, ones where she liked him back the way he liked her. Ones where they left the bookstore holding hands.
He continued downstairs to look for the book of poems she suggested for him, which he found quickly, along with Votive by Keiran Goddard. Would Anna like a copy of his favorite book of poetry? Did he even want to ask her? At this point, he had nothing to lose. She wasn't going to suddenly want him, but that shouldn't stop him from sharing a recommendation of his own. Especially when she might really enjoy something he found so spectacular. 
Bob held the book up and snapped a quick selfie, sending it away into the universe before dwelling on it too much.
--------------------
Anna was preparing a piece of toast with jelly for herself or dinner, desperately wishing she were back at the bookstore. Bob was there, probably smelling so nice and luring everyone else who was shopping closer to him. Perhaps he was wearing another Dungeons & Dragons shirt like he'd worn to the Navy bar. Perhaps his biceps were straining against it.
She didn't have to use her vivid imagination for very long, because suddenly Bob was staring at her through her phone screen with his crooked little smile and his beautiful eyes. And his uniform. 
"Oh my god." The toast slipped from her fingers and landed jelly side down on her plate as she took in every single detail. Navy uniforms were khaki? Why had she assumed they were all navy blue? Why didn't she know more about the Navy? She was going to take the time to learn everything she could about the United States Navy. 
When she realized her mouth was dry, she reached for her glass of water and downed it. She was in a daze. A Bob Floyd induced daze. Even all the little pins on his shirt were distracting. She wanted to count all of them. She wanted to touch them. She wondered what they would feel like if she pressed her lips to them. 
"Stop," she gasped. But she couldn't. Now her eyes drifted up to his face again, and she thought she'd only really ever seen the exact color of his eyes in a Kandinsky painting at the Guggenheim. She couldn't look away. "No. No. No!" she moaned. And then she finally read the actual message he'd typed out after gawking at his photo for five whole minutes. 
Bob Floyd: Have you ever read Votive by Keiran Goddard? It's my favorite collection of poetry. 
Anna laughed a little hysterically. She hadn't even noticed he was holding up a book at all. His graceful fingers were wrapped around the damn thing, but she'd been too distracted by him to actually look at the book. But now the fact that she'd never read Goddard before had her flushed and flustered, because Bob had sent a book recommendation to her. Nobody ever did that, and all she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get her hands on a copy and devour the whole entire thing if it was something he liked. 
Very calmly and rationally, she typed back to him.
I have not read it yet, but I'll add it to my list of things to check out of the library. 
When she set her phone down and realized her toast had become a casualty to this text conversation, she moaned and flipped it back over. Her heart was still beating a little erratically from looking at Bob's photo for too long, and she didn't think she could even eat. There was no way she could waste any food in her current financial state though, so she took a bite anyway as he texted her back.
Bob Floyd: I'll just pick it up for you while I'm here. I hope you'll like it, but if you hate it, that's okay too. It's a bit of an acquired taste.
Oh no. She couldn't let him buy it, because she didn't have any extra spending money at the moment to be able to pay him back. But admitting that to him would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and she didn't even think she could do it. Perhaps she could scrape together twenty dollars if she skipped a few meals, but then she wouldn't be able to join the girls in the quad at lunchtime. They'd notice her lack of food right away. 
"Why are you such a disaster?" she asked herself as she scarfed down the rest of her toast and typed back to him.
Thank you. I can pay you back for it later.
She would figure it out. She always did. Even when she didn't want to, she managed to find a way to solve her problems. Even when it hurt.
Bob Floyd: It's my treat. I can give it to Bradley or Jake at work tomorrow. I'm sure either of the ladies wouldn't mind getting it to you when they see you. Or if you feel like it, we could meet for coffee one day and I could give it to you in person. Just let me know.
"Oh, Anna," she whispered, already typing out a response before she could think better of it.
--------------------------
Bob was surprised Anna took him up on his offer to meet for coffee, but he found himself looking forward to it in spite of the fact that he was still pining a bit. He'd get over it in time. He'd find someone new to crush on, or maybe he'd meet another girl that he was interested in, and maybe she would be interested back. But none of that stopped him from being excited at the prospect of being around her again. And none of that prepared him for the way he felt when Anna pushed through the door of the coffee shop on Wednesday evening and looked around tentatively. Her red hair was in another loose braid, and her freckles were so endearing.
As soon as her eyes landed on him, she looked less apprehensive but also more resigned. When she approached the table where he was sitting with three books, he stood. "Hey. Anna. How are you?"
"Hi, Bob." Even her voice was soft and sweet as her eyes swept along his face and body. She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she said, "Thanks for the book. Will you let me buy you something to drink?"
He didn't respond beyond nodding and leading the way toward the counter. He listened to her order a small coffee before he ordered a large hot tea, and when she reached for her wallet, he was already handing over a twenty. When she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes, he just smiled. "You don't have to buy me a drink."
She watched the money leave his hand as she said, "Well, you don't have to buy me one either."
"Too late."
She was quiet as they returned to the small table with their hot beverages, but as soon as she sat, she said, "You'll have to let me pay next time."
Bob slid two of the books across the table as he asked, "Next time?" But she didn't respond as she let her fingers brush along Votive before she picked it up to reveal the one underneath it.
Anna's laughter filled the small space as her eyes darted back up to meet his. "You bought Cat's Cradle? I didn't think that was the kind of thing you were looking for?"
He glanced down into his tea. "Uh, it's not. I got it for you."
"Bob," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine now. He liked her nail polish and wanted to touch her hands. "You did not have to get me two books."
"Yes I did," he said with a smile. "Vonnegut sounds horrible. I felt bad for it because nobody else was ever going to buy it. I couldn't just leave it to rot on the shelf when I know the only person who would be willing to give it a nice home."
When she laughed again, she seemed resigned to the fact that the books were both hers. "Thanks. Money is a little tight for me right now. You know how it is when you first move," she told him while she fidgeted a bit. "But next time, I'll buy your drink. Or your book. Or something."
"You keep saying 'next time'."
Anna poked at her coffee cup and said, "I thought maybe.... we could be friends."
"Friends." His voice felt and sounded stale. The word made him feel sadder than it should have. "Of course."
She looked even more relieved now as she took a sip of her coffee, but Bob was busy trying not to memorize the pretty pattern of her freckles across her nose and the way her lips were pursed. He wouldn't look at a friend that way. 
"Which book is that?" she asked, nodding toward the last one in front of him. 
He flipped it over so she could see the cover, and he said, "Oh, it's The Age of Innocence. I'm almost done reading it, and I was just hoping to get your opinions on a few things."
Anna's eyes went wider. "You're almost done reading it? Already?"
"Yeah." His voice sounded like a groan, and he knew he should be embarrassed since she recommended it two days ago, but he said, "Once I start a new book, I can't put it down if it's good."
"So you like it?" she asked, leaning a little closer to him as a smile played along her lips. 
"It's fantastic," he replied, and her foot brushed his softly beneath the table.
Anna licked her lips and shifted in her seat as she made a soft sound that just made Bob want to get closer to her. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and cleared her throat before she blurted out. "You're really handsome." His lips parted wordlessly, unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to as she immediately said, "And you're not boring. Not at all. I could have stayed in that dusty bookstore all afternoon, tucked away in the loft, talking to you about book after book."
"Oh," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"
"Yes. Really," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I didn't disappear because of you. I disappeared because of me. And I'm really sorry about that."
Then he realized what was going on. His friends got to her already. He'd told Jessica on Saturday night that he was sure Anna ditched him because he's probably not as handsome or interesting as she's used to. And now he was going to have to text her and tell her to lay off. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without having to hear Anna pity him like this.
"Don't worry about it," he told her softly with his best attempt at a smile. "We can be friends."
When he got home, she texted him to thank him again for the books and the coffee. But he was still thinking about her freckles and how far down her neck they might go. Maybe they made a pretty pattern across her shoulders, too. Maybe they would disappear into her bra, a perfect treasure for another man to find. But not Bob. Bob and Anna were just friends.
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When Anna finally got home after taking two buses, it was so late, she knew she should go right to bed. But she was wishing for another cheap bottle of wine to try to take her mind off of Bob. He was perfect, and she couldn't let herself have him. They could be friends, but nothing more. She could send him texts, but they couldn't flirt. 
She already missed his soft voice and the way he gave her his entire focus when they were together. He bought her two books! Nobody else ever bought her books! And he read the ones she recommended to him! Maybe Kevin was to blame for most things that had gone wrong in her life, but literally no man she'd ever known was as kind and thoughtful as Bob.
She collapsed back onto her bed in her sad apartment were she could look at her kitchen and her bathroom at the same time, and she opened the book of poetry. Bob's favorite poetry. Withing minutes of reading the first few pages, she felt warmer and maybe a little flustered. The passages were romantic and insightful in such a familiar way. Something was tickling at her brain, trying to trigger a memory. She kept reading, making it fifteen pages in before she gasped and realized what it was. 
"Sky Writing," she murmured, reaching for her computer in favor of the book. She was reminded of her favorite novice poet from her favorite website. The poetry in the book sounded a bit like the poems written by Sky Writing, and now Anna was even more of a mess knowing that this was the kind of intimate literature Bob preferred to read. 
She wanted him. She wanted to know what his big, sturdy hands would feel like on her body. What his lips tasted like. She wanted to erase that pinch of doubt she saw on his face when she tried to reassure him that even though they were going to be just friends, she definitely found him attractive. 
The next time she went shopping, she was going to need to stock up on some more bottles of cheap wine.
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Just friends. Okay, Anna. Sure, babe. Let's see how long that lasts. Bob's wingwomen are powerful. Thank you @lauratang for the book/reading list! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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sometimesanalice · 6 months
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Bedside Manner
Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 8K
Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.
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It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.
The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.
“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.
Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.
But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.
Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.
All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.
“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.
Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.
Normally.
But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 
“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.
You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.
The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.
You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.
It was supposed to be a fun day.
You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.
There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.
You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.
The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.
The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.
Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.
You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.
Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.
And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.
You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.
He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.
“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.
“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.
And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.
When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.
“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.
You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.
You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.
“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”
You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.
“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.
“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.
“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  
Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.
Respectfully, of course.
Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.
“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.
“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.
You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.
And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.
You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.
And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.
Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.
He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.
Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.
But he’s never made a move.
If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.
You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.
Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.
The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.
The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.
Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.
And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  
You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.
You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.
Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.
The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.
You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.
The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.
Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.
You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.
The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.
For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.
It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.
Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.
And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.
“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.
They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.
It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.
It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.
You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.
There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.
And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.
You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.
As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.
“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.
They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.
Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.
Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.
His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.
You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.
“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.
“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.
“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.
“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.
The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.
And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.
Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.
The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.
Just not like this.
With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.
Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.
Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.
Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”
“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.
“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.
“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.
You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.
She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.
“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.
“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.
You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.
And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.
The two of you silent and motionless.
You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.
His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.
“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.
“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”
Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.
“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.
You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.
“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.
He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.
You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.
All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.
You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.
This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.
You want the Bradley from earlier. 
The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.
The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.
You want your Bradley.
The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.
The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.
You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.
For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.
“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”
We.
You wanted that with him.
You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.
The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.
Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.
When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.
“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.
“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.
Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.
“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.
He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.
It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.
He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.
It’s never felt this strained with him before.
It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.
Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.
He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.
He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.
“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.
When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.
“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”
“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.
“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.
You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?
He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.
“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”
“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”
“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.
“Ok, good,” he grumbles.
“Great,” you lob back.
His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.
“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.
“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.
A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”
Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.
You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.
Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.
“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.
“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.
And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.
“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.
He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.
“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.
Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.
“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”
He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.
“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.
The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.
“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”
“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.
Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”
The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.
“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”
“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”
You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.
“Bradley, the light.”
The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.
“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.
“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.
“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.
Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.
He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.
The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.
“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.
The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.
“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”
“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.
He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.
“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.
“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.
He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”
“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.
“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.
Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.
He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.
There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.
“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”
“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”
“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”
“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.
“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.
“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.
“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.
“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.
“Done.”
“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.
“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”
“And then you’ll kiss me?”
“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.
He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.
“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.
“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”
“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”
“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.
You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Guess we will,” he rasps.
Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.
You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.
There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.
You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.
Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.
You’ve got that forever feeling about him.
Oh, oh, oh.
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Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.
This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!
The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"
Taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
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bussyslayer333 · 1 year
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Need to know
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summary: an accidental call to your boyfriend on girls night leaves everyone shocked at a revelation they never thought they would have; bob fucks.
pairing: robert floyd x girlfriend!reader
word count: 1.8k
warnings: allusions to smut throughout but none actually, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a daddy kink, one mention of 50 shades of grey as a joke 😭
part 2!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Bob, Rooster and Coyote were all sat on the couch in Hangman’s living room whilst an old 80s rock record played through the speaker, watching the latter animatedly talk about some new position him and his girlfriend had tried out the night previous.
“And then I had her leg wrapped around my neck Javy, it was literally insane.”
Javy laughed at his best friend’s antics whilst Rooster spluttered, “You’re so full of shit Bagman! Not even a gymnast could pull that off.” Bob nodded in agreement and Jake started up again.
“Rooster, you’re just mad that the grannies you’re ploughing in missionary get arthritis before you can finish.”
Bob couldn’t even politely hold in his laugh at the dig as Coyote started to smack his arm in an effort to stop cackling, whilst Rooster huffed something about how she was only two years older than him with an eye roll. Now filled with the urge for revenge Rooster decided to strike the first person in his eye line.
“How come we never get to hear about you and your girlfriend Bob?” Rooster questioned, which was cruel of him. He knew Bob was a private person but the alcohol they had slowly been consuming over this ‘boys night’ had lowered his inhibitions slightly and he was still seething from Jake’s dig so Bob seemed like the easy target. Bob shrugged as the boys turned to him expectantly.
“It’s not gentlemanly, I dont expect she says anything about us to her friends either,”
Coyote seemed pleased with his response and slapped him on the back a little too painfully before putting in his (unwanted) two cents.
“See that boys? Always the southern gentleman hey Bob?”
Jake laughed loudly at the two admissions he had just heard.
“What bagman?” Bob asked, growing more agitated by his friends who were a little more inebriated than he was.
“You are out of your depth if you think Phoenix, Halo and our girlfriends aren’t talking about us specifically in the bedroom right now.”
Reminded of your current whereabouts, Bob began to wonder what you and your girlfriends talked about on your bi-monthly girls night. After all that is why he was drinking at Hangman’s place. Jake would never admit it but he hates being alone in his house without his girl, hence the invitation to boys night being sent out to his friends. Bob was about to speak up again when ‘My Girl’ by the temptations started playing from his pocket, signifying that his girlfriend was indeed calling him. Jake giggled out,
“Seriously Baby on board, I promised my girlfriend I’d start being nicer to people but you are making that promise so goddamn hard right now.”
Rooster felt bad for starting up this conversation and came to Bob’s defence,
“I love this song,” this prompted a fake gag from Jake into Javys face.
“Can you guys shush for like one sec,” Bob pleaded before answering the call.
“Hey baby,” Bob spoke.
No reply. Weird.
“Hello?” Bob spoke again, he could hear muffled sounds but no clear words. Begrudgingly switching the phone to speaker in one last attempt to hear you clearly, Bob held his phone out and the boys leaned in rather too nosily for Bob’s liking. There was more muffled noises until a sound rang out that the boys assumed was you moving your phone into a better position.
“Hi baby,” Bob tried again, but it became obvious that you couldn’t hear him. He reached to end the call when a voice rang out.
“YOU CALL HIM WHAT?!” Jake’s ears perked up, he would recognise that voice anywhere, that was unmistakably his girlfriend. Jake gestured for Bob to put his phone on the coffee table so they could all hear where the rest of this conversation (which was definitely not meant for their ears) would go. Bob felt slightly bad that this would be an invasion of your privacy, but that feeling quickly subsided when he heard your response.
“Look, Daddy kinks aren’t even that uncommon, Jake has made you do even crazier stuff and you can’t even argue that!”
Rouge began to spread across Bob’s cheeks and he reached to end the call to prevent further embarrassment in front of his closest friends. However, all three other boys seemed to be working in tandem as Coyote moved to hold Bob down and Hangman held the phone away from him all whilst Rooster reminded Jake that he should mute themselves so that they shouldn’t have to worry about a noise coming from them which would alert you of the call currently taking place without your knowledge.
Phoenix cut in before Jakes girlfriend could retaliate to your earlier statement. She was curious,
“And like.. you enjoy that?” Bob was reminded of the sheer amount of people who he worked with who were now aware of a certain preference he had and he cringed.
Your giggle was heard across the phone and the boys struggled to contain their own.
“I mean when I first met him I was not expecting it at all, but like… it’s so hot when he takes charge,” the girls all squealed and you were spurred on, “the other week he even tied my hands up so I couldn’t touch him when he went down on me.”
More squeals ensued but not just from the girls, Rooster was surprisingly high pitched when he wanted to be. Halo squawked out,
“Phe I cannot believe your little back seater is a total fifty shades of grey type freak!”
Jake’s girlfriend seemed to find this even funnier than everyone else,
“‘Little’! Ha! You’re funny Halo!” This intrigued the two female pilots even more as they prodded at you. Phoenix spoke up first,
“How am I supposed to look him in the eyes after this?!” She laughed.
Halo then decided to question you further, “Okay, I’m gonna move my hands apart and you tell me when to stop,”
A snort from Jake’s girlfriend followed and then silence for a few seconds. The boys stared Bob down suddenly wishing they were with the girls. A shriek interrupted their train of thought and Bob buried his face into his hands.
“NO WAY!” Halo all but screamed. You winked at her and she screamed again, “God, no wonder I saw you limping around the Hard Deck the other day!”
Rooster looks up at this revelation and questioned Bob, “Bro you said she hurt her knee at work,” Bob smiled sheepishly and Coyote continued his annoying habit of smacking anyone in the near vicinity when he finds something particularly funny.
Bob shushed them all as you began to speak again, “Look if we’re being honest now I want to admit something else,”
“Please have a sex dungeon, please have a sex dungeon, please have a sex dungeon, please have-”
“Jake shut the fuck up he does not have a sex dungeon,” Rooster came to Bob’s defence once again, “…do you?”
Bob scoffed at the absurdity of Roosters question, “Hey! I was just checking man!”
You started up again, “that time I lost my voice from a mean cold… it was not a cold.” The girls shrieked with laughter, “and that’s all I’m saying on that matter.”
There was movement on the phone as Phoenix finally spoke up from her laughter, “I need another drink, anyone else for one?” There was a combination of yeses and Halo got up to help her retrieve what was left of the wine.
There was more shuffling then a loud gasp much clearer than everything else the boys had heard, they looked at each other and grinned.
Jake’s girlfriend looked up from her phone and asks you, “whats up, babe?”
“I’ve been on call to Bobby this whole time.”
Bob couldn’t help but laugh at your use of the sweet nickname after seemingly revealing all of yours and his dirty secrets.
Jake’s girlfriend ever the people pleaser tried to reassure you, “Well we didn’t hear anything from them? Maybe he butt answered your butt dial?”
You breathed a sigh of relief at her words, because they made sense right? You reached to end the call but then a voice from your phone spoke up.
“Baby, you are far too optimistic.” Jake chuckled into the phone hoping to surprise his girlfriend.
Jake’s girlfriend laughed and you gasped, “Jake! Hi um… sorry how long have you been on the phone? Is it just you there?”
A chorus of laughs occur from the boys side of the phone and you groan into Jake’s girlfriends hair.
Rooster speaks up this time in a teasing tone, “Best behave for Daddy tonight Angel.” And you groan even further into Jake’s girlfriend as Phoenix and Halo return with wine in hand.
Phoenix gives you a confused look and you explain, “I butt dialled Bob.” Halo threatens to spill the remnants of wine with how hard she is shuddering with laughter.
Phoenix speaks into the phone, “Hi boys!”
Coyote laughs and responds, “Hey Phoenix!”
You finally dare to ask the question that’s been plaguing you, “So how much of that did you actually hear?”
Your sweet, loving boyfriend finally spoke up, “From about the daddy kink up until now, Sweetheart.” He chuckled.
“I’m so sorry, Bobby.” You cringed.
“Don’t worry about it, just be glad I’m not trying to break your legs like Bagman is with those positions with his girl.”
You giggled into your friend again whilst protests from Jake could be heard.
“Okay Baby, well I’ll see you soon?” You asked and you could practically hear Bob’s smirk through the phone.
“Yes you will, Sweetheart.”
After hearing his response you absentmindedly tap your phone to end the call and place it face down away from you.
Jake’s girlfriend piped up, “at least he didn’t hear us talk about you know what!” And you all giggled in relief.
“WE DONT KNOW WHAT !” Jake yelled into the phone.
“Still here Sweetheart,” Bob laughed, and you hurriedly picked your phone up.
“Oh my god what is wrong with me ?!” You whined. Bob laughed in response and Phoenix took your phone ending the call definitely before something too embarrassing was revealed.
Halo piped up, “I suggest a no phone rule at the next girls night!” You groaned into the pillow behind you.
The boys were staring at Bob, somewhat awestruck.
“What?” Bob laughed.
“Why are we all pretending we don’t wanna know what his dick looks like now?” Rooster asked.
Bob pulled away just quick enough before his arm became anymore bruised from Coyote’s violent laughter so Jake fell victim instead.
Bob almost felt bad for Jake but then he spoke up, “Daddy! Help me!” With a shit eating grin on his face.
God, you were in for it when you got home.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
a/n: i have always been a part of the bob fucks agenda but here is my little contribution HAHAH,, also i thought maybe a lil continuation w jake and his gf here ??? if anyone wants more on those two lemme knowww!!
lew lew i love you 🫶
pls comment, reblog or message me and tell me what u think !! all notes are appreciated <3
thank u for reading :)
- honey <33
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wkndwlff · 11 months
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She Blinded Me With Science
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Summary: Meeting your boyfriend’s friends for the first time was stressful enough. Would they like you? Would you like them? Their reaction to your job was the last thing on your mind…
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Female Medical Laboratory Scientist Reader
Warnings: Some fluff, alcohol use, typos
WC: 2050
A/N: Happy Lab Week! 🔬🦠 This is so self indulgent. Thanks to @sylviebell and @blue-aconite for the betas and to @mothdruid for all the Pathologist Bob talk which got me on track for this! 🥰
You let your fingers drum against the small ledge by the pool tables. He was late. You took a sip of your margarita, checking your watch again. You bit your lip. Of all the days your boyfriend could be running late, it had to be the day he wanted to introduce you to his squadron. A heavy sigh left your lips. You could’ve stopped to change out of your scrubs if you would’ve known he would be late. You probably could’ve gotten a quick shower too, wash the workday off you. You just wanted a nap. You had three different nurses yell at you over clotted samples, and one very angry doctor called every five minutes for updates on the status of their “stat” cell count. You took another sip of the margarita, trying your hardest to forget about the lab for the night.
You checked your phone for anything from Jake, half tempted to just head back to your car before anyone spotted you. 
Jakers 🩵: I’m so sorry, Bun. Got pulled into a meeting with Admiral Simpson. Be there ASAP. XO
You finished the margarita, letting the tequila wash over you. You bit your lip looking at the ice. Your heart was racing. God knows what he did now. He could be there for another hour with his track record. You chuckled softly to yourself, swirling the ice. You would go to your car and wait for him, maybe get in a small nap. But should you close your tab and open a new one when you came back in? You looked at the slowly melting ice, bile rising in your throat. The bartender seemed nice enough. She would probably tell you what was easier on her end.
But right as you went to stand, someone sat next to you, making you jump. You gulped, fidgeting slightly in the barstool. You looked to your left, taking in the brunette in crisp jeans and a blue tee. He had a root beer in one hand and peanuts in the other, glasses perched on his nose. His cobalt eyes met yours, a blush creeping up his neck, warm smile on his lips. You recognized him from Jake’s description alone. Bob. He was the WSO that your boyfriend insisted you’d get along with. You returned his smile, about to introduce yourself, but then the rest of them started funneling in.
“All I’m saying,” the one with a mustache said loudly, “is that they won’t know if I cheat the glucose test if I watch my diet a few days before.”
Your teeth ground together. You didn’t want to think about work, but he was wrong. If they were running an A1C it would look at his glucose over three months. You had to fight yourself from saying anything, knuckles white as you gripped the glass in your hand.
Thankfully, Bob tapped your arm with the cup of peanuts, offering you a few. You hummed in appreciation, taking a handful. You looked back at the pilots, trying to piece together who was who from Jake’s descriptions. Rooster was easy enough to spot. You chuckled to yourself as you took in the Hawaiian shirt he wore. Jake had tried for weeks to describe how dismal his collection was. You understood now.
Natasha was the only other aviator you felt confident in identifying. She exuded so much confidence amongst her fellow aviators that you just knew. Jake spoke so highly of her, there was no way it was anyone else. When she briefly caught your gaze, you smiled nervously, playing with the hem of your scrub top. Bob held out the peanuts before you again, without a word. Jake was right, you already liked Bob.
“How the hell does the ink even stay in your skin?” One of the aviators asked, looking at what appeared to be a fresh tattoo on another’s bicep.
Macrophages, you thought to yourself. It was one of your favorite facts that you learned in your clinical year.
“What?” Phoenix asked, eyes trained on yours. 
You swallowed thickly. Maybe you didn’t just think the words. Your mouth was suddenly dry as six pairs of eyes landed on you.
“I…um…” you took a deep breath. “Macrophages from your immune system keep your tattoo permanent.”
“No shit?” The aviator with the fresh tattoo said with a huge smile.
“How does that even work?” Phoenix asked rounding the pool table with crossed arms.
“It’s basic immunology,” you all but whispered, wishing Jake would walk through the door. 
“Humor us, Bill Nye,” Rooster chuckled.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. You felt heat rushing up your neck. You tugged at your scrub top again, fidgeting in the seat. “The ink is a foreign body in your body,” you said timidly, studying your hands. “And macrophages are immune cells that are like little garbage disposals. Eating dead cells and debris…and foreign materials.” You looked up, smiling slightly. “But your macrophages can’t break down the ink and they swell up. And when they die and release the ink, new macrophages come along and eat the ink and swell up.” You paused looking at your empty drink. “And you’re not going to fool anyone with your glucose. If they run an A1C it’s an average of your glucose over the last three months.”
You looked up to see that Rooster’s smile had fallen. Your stomach flipped.
“And who are you?” He asked. Amusement painted his tone.
“This is Jake’s girlfriend,” Bob said softly. “He calls you, mouse, right?” He nudged your shoulder with his, warm smile still on his lips.
“Wait,” one of the aviators said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are dating Hangman?”
Your brow furrowed. “Yes?” You said slowly. Were they expecting you to say no? Your stomach dropped.
“It’s just you’re so…smart,” the tattooed aviator said slowly.
“And Hangman is so…” the other aviator started.
“Devastatingly handsome,” your boyfriend filled in, walking right to you, million-dollar smile on his lips. You felt yourself relax at just the sound of his voice. He walked between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. “Sorry I’m late, Bun,” he said softly before kissing you chastely. “Were they all nice?”
“Do you want another drink?” Bob whispered, catching your eye. 
You nodded, weakly. Smiling as he scurried away with your empty. “Very nice, Jakers,” you hummed. 
“Bagman,” Rooster jeered, pulling your attention. “You didn’t tell us you were dating Bill Nye.”
You just rolled your eyes, looking up at your boyfriend. You were a bit upset at what they were implying.
“Bradshaw was nice, Bun?” He asked with a raised brow. You wanted to kiss away the indent between his brows. He hadn’t said it, but you knew he was nervous about you meeting the squad.
“Bun?” Phoenix asked with a laugh.
You leaned around Jake’s tall frame. “Like Bunsen burner,” you explained with a smile.
“I still claim it’s because of Dr. Bunsen,” Jake said softly. He shifted so he was standing with an arm around your shoulder. “Like in the Muppets.”
You bit back the giggles that were threatening to spill from you. It had been the weirdest lab reference you’d ever come across, but from Jake it was endearing and cute.
“The Muppets?” Another aviator howled.
“So, what do you do, Bun?” The tattooed one asked, smile reaching his eyes.
“I’m a medical laboratory scientist,” you said fidgeting in your seat. Jake squeezed your shoulder gently. “I work at Scripps Mercy.”
“A scientist?” Two of them gasped in unison. 
“I desperately need to know how you met this meathead,” Phoenix teased.
You felt yourself stiffen. You still didn’t understand what the big deal was. Jake cleared his throat, rubbing soothing circles over your scrub top. 
“Do y’all remember when my sister visited and stepped on a bee?” He asked quickly. You could sense his growing frustration. 
“That was almost two months ago, man,” someone sighed.
“I got lost and quite literally ran into this one.” He paused, placing a kiss in your hair. “She was walking on her lunch break.”
“And he waited outside on a bench until my shift was over and used the cheesiest pickup line. But I still said yes to coffee,” you filled in with a shrug. 
“What was the pickup line?” Bradley asked biting back a smile.
You bit your lip, looking up at Jake. You could see the faintest blush settling on his cheeks.
“She said she worked in the lab when I ran into her,” he said sheepishly, looking at his hands.
“What was it?” One of the aviators asked dramatically.
“Not a chance, Fanboy,” he huffed.
“Tell them, Jakers,” you encourage sweetly. “It obviously worked.”
He let out a soft sigh, looking directly at you. “If I were an enzyme, I’d be Helicase,” he mumbled, smiling widely at you. “So I could unzip your genes.”
The aviators around you erupted into laughter, but you didn’t hear it. You let your hand reach up to trace the apple of his cheek. Your heart fell ever so slightly out of rhythm like it did the first time he said that to you. Those emerald eyes had you transfixed, making the world around you fade away.
“Here you go, mouse,” Bob said sweetly, returning with your drink. You jumped in your seat, clutching your chest.
“Thank y—“
“Mouse?” Someone asked.
“Lab rat is too harsh,” Jake filled in, smiling at you. Your heart skipped a beat under his gaze. You felt blood rushing to your cheeks as you recognized the all too familiar glint in his eye.
“Speaking of harsh,” Phoenix coughed. “What did Cyclone want, Bagman?”
“Why does it have to be harsh?” Your boyfriend mumbled. You felt him stiffen next to you, instantly putting you on high alert.
“You practically live in Cyclone’s office,” Fanboy laughed.
“I bet you have more hours logged in the admirals’ offices than in the air,” another pipped up before the group burst into another bout of laughter.
You let your hand glide to Jake’s back, rubbing small circles with your thumb. He shuffled on his feet, shoulders falling slightly.
“I don’t know how you haven’t been grounded after that stunt you pulled during training last week,” the aviator with tattoos chimed in barely able to keep a straight face.
You played with the hem of your scrub top, trying to keep your expression neutral. You looked at Jake quickly, unease settling over you. He smiled weakly at you, squeezing your shoulder.
“Oh my gosh, do you guys remember that time when Bagman was flying with Mav and—“ Rooster started with a smile.
“I was asked to assist in a training exercise with the newbies,” Jake interjected quickly. 
Your brows scrunched. You would have to ask what happened with Mav at some other point. All you could focus on was the uncharacteristically shy smile your boyfriend had. You let your hand trail to his back pocket, squeezing gently.
“Makes sense,” Bob spoke from next to you. He leaned closer to you, adjusting his glasses. “If Nix wasn’t around, I think he’s the only one I’d trust flying with,” he whispered loudly. 
A chorus of groans filled the air, making you chuckle.
“Hey,” Phoenix said sharply. “He spends more time with Cyclone, but he’s a damn good pilot.”
“And appropriately smarter than we thought too,” the tattooed aviator said, winking in your direction.
Jake squeezed your shoulder again as you relaxed into your seat. You smiled warmly at Bob, who seemed to turn beet red under your gaze. 
“A scientist, huh?” One of the pilots said with a smile, patting his shoulder.
“Anything else from the peanut gallery,” Jake teased. “Or can I actually tell her your names now?” His large fingers trailed to the exposed flesh of your arm, tracing lazy circles. A shiver ran down your spine as a chilling heat consumed you.
“One thing,” Rooster said, brow pinching hard. He pointed at you, one hand on his hip. “So, about that glucose?”
You threw your head back and laughed, leaning into Jake’s side. You felt him relax under your touch. The two of you had nothing to worry about.
Tagging anyone I think might enjoy this!
@sylviebell @xcastawayherosx @blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe@roosterforme @townmoondaltwistle @ereardon @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @discount-shades @xomrsalliej4787xo @emma8895eb @waklman @mothdruid @sugarcoated-lame @thedroneranger
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thewulf · 3 months
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Oh, Honey || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: Request - Maybe a Jake x reader where the dagger squad and jake accidentally make her feel insecure? Like Jake and reader have been dating for a couple months so Jake wants to introduce her to them. So Jake throws a little bonfire bbq at his place and the daggers come to meet her... Read Rest Here
A/N: Changed up the ending a smidge. Hope you still love it!! :) My fav trope - angst to fluff, miscommunications galore!
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Word Count: 2,000k +
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Brushing down your dress for probably the fifteenth time you let out a slow sigh while looking over yourself in the mirror. You were nervous, terribly nervous. You’d been dating Jake for four months now. You’d learned all about his friends at work. The people he spent more time with than anybody. The people he’d grown to love and adore after going on life threatening missions. See, they kept the group together as a tactical unit after their surprising success bombing the uranium facility. Even more so of a reason to bond. They were the best of friends now. And you were the girlfriend.
Being so nervous you hadn’t heard Jake walk in and watch you with cautious eyes. He too knew you were nervous. You were gentle. So damn gentle. That’s why he went for you. He was so tired of going after the same type of girl and getting the same results, nothing. He’d tried for years and years without much success. The over bubbly bottle blonde wasn’t what was going to suit his fancy. No. It was you.
He'd run into you in the last of places he really expected at the library. His sister and nephews were in town, and they wanted to go. So, he obliged. And thank goodness he did. He always counted his lucky stars with how fortunate he felt that he’d met you.
“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a softer than usual voice trying not to startle you into oblivion.
You still jumped. A small smile brushed across your lips as you spotted him in the doorway of his bedroom, “You scared me.” You let out a soft laugh not really responding to him.
He walked over to you and brought you in for a warm embrace, “Sorry darlin’.” A light but breathy chuckle came from above you. Closing your eyes, you breathed him in slowly trying to slow you rapidly beating heart, “They’re going to adore you.” He whispered before placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
You nodded gently into his chest, “I sure hope so.” Your wanted to curse as you heard your voice waver unfavorably. Surely, that was going to give you away.
He gave you a gentle squeeze, “You have nothing to be worried about darlin’. If you can handle me you can handle them.”
You giggled at his efforts to calm you down, “You’re quite the handful Jake.”
He hummed, “Maybe so.” He had to agree. But before he could really counter he heard the knocks at his front door, “They’re here.” He clicked his tongue gauging your reaction. Had he calmed you down? Were you going to be okay? Was it too soon? He wanted to collapse in on himself. He’d surely has never been so unsure of himself. He knew how much he liked you. Even loved you. He knew he wanted it to be you. He was so sure of that. But he was so unsure of how to make that happen. Love was always so fleeting for him. He wanted to make sure you would stay. You would always want to be around him. He never knew how to act. But he must’ve been doing something right as you stuck right by his side for the better part of the last four months.
“You don’t say.” You grinned up at him as he pulled away.
He rolled his eyes before giving your side a playful pinch, “Smart ass.”
“Come on. Let’s go get your friends.” You nodded towards the door letting him lead the way. You were trying to put on a brave face, but damn were you terribly nervous.
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You heard Natasha’s voice from the side of the house, “I’m really surprised you went for her.” Your breath caught in your throat as you failed to listen to the rest of the comment. ‘She’s so sweet and kind!’ But you didn’t hear that as you back up against the door. Well damn. At least you had thought it was going well.
You heard the group laugh and agree in confirmation. Shit. You really had misread the backyard throughout the night. You thought you and Bob were agreeing on so much. You really thought Natasha wanted to go shopping with you after you told her all the good local spots that didn’t include the gross megamall that swam with people you tried to avoid. You and Javier bonded over your love of the San Diego Padres. But maybe you were wrong. Maybe you’d really misread the situation that badly.
“Agreed! She’s not ridiculously tall and blonde and super talkative.” You could’ve sworn that was Bob’s voice speaking up. It seemed out of character for him. But he clearly didn’t like you. You backed yourself right back into the house. You didn’t hear the ‘She’s an actual human being that can have a real conversation. She’s great Jake,’ from him.
Instead, you frantically grabbed your phone from your back pocket. Thinking too fast you shot Jake a text,
Hey, not feeling super great. Crazy nauseous. Think I’m going to head home.
What you weren’t expecting was his insanely fast response. You thought he’d be engrossed in some conversation or agreement about you. Were you really that bad? Was he agreeing with them? It certainly didn’t sound like he was disagreeing with them.
Hold on darlin. Don’t go. I’ll be right in.
Your eyes went wide as you realized you really didn’t have time to slip out the front door like you’d planned. He’d be walking in the side door any second now. Damn you really hadn’t thought this through. You couldn’t lie to the man. No, you were an awful liar. Terrible actually.
You walked away from the door but just a moment later it clicked open. Jake’s big green eyes softening once he spotted you on the other side of the living room looking more frantic than ill. His eyes scanned your figure for any other signs of what was actually going on. He didn’t waste a second once he’d finished his once over. He walked right on up to you.
“What’s the matter love? My cooking isn’t sending you home is it?” He scanned you again with nothing but concern in his eyes. You didn’t really seem sick. You were just skiddish. He was used to this. Earlier on in the relationship he had to dance around you. Let you get used to his presence. He was so careful with you. And you bloomed right under him into something of your own. You got comfortable with him. Opened up like a book to him. Trusted him more than anything in the world.
“I’ve been feeling a little gross all day.” It wasn’t really a lie. You have felt gross all day. You’d been remarkably nervous over the entire thing.
He cocked his head to the side in slight confusion. He read you like a book though, “Honey, they love you!” He gave your arms a squeeze in reassurance. He seemed so adamant. He didn’t seem like he was lying to you. He seemed so confused. Had you missed something?
“It didn’t sound like it.” It slipped so quickly from your mouth you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or in your head. It was a tossup really.
His face dropped immediately, “What’re talking about darlin’?” His face was laced with nothing but confusion. You’d definitely missed something.
You pursed your lips. Oh well, secrets already out, “She said she was surprised you went for somebody like me.” Your eyes dropped in shame. You felt a little guilty for listening In on their conversation meant for their own ears only.
He pulled your eyes up to look at his, “Then what?” He asked.
You shook your head in confusion, “They all agreed.” You sighed. Why was he making you repeat what you heard.
He shook his head slowly, still holding your chin in his hands, “No love. She said you were sweet. That you were kind. She really likes you. Said she can’t wait for you to take her shopping.”
Well shit. How had you missed that? Your stitched your eyebrows together as you looked for any sign that he could’ve been fooling you. You couldn’t find a sign, “But then Bob said I wasn’t a blonde or talkative.” You repeated trying to justify your actions.
“Oh honey.” He laughed at the situation, not at you. He’d never dream about laughing at you, “You don’t know him well enough to know he was being sarcastic. He said that you were so fun to talk to, could hold an actual conversation.” He ran a hand down your arm trying to give you the reassurance you so clearly needed.
Shaking your head, you felt the nerves bubble back up. You definitely missed that, “I must’ve walked back inside.”
He wrapped you in another tight embrace. This one felt more necessary than the rest. He could feel how anxious you were. How saddened you looked at the thought of his friends not liking you. It warmed his heard at how much you wanted to be accepted by them. You knew how much they meant to him.
“Wish you would’ve stuck around.” He mumbled into your hair while rocking you back and forth ever so gently, “Even had Rooster singing your praises.”
You smiled as you finally started to believe him fully. He wouldn’t have lied to you like that, “Really?” You asked softly. You cheek was resting on his chest as he held you in his comfortable embrace.
“Yeah,” He chucked before pulling you closer into him, “I think they may ever like you more than me. I know Bradley does.”
Your heart swelled with all the love you felt for the man. He always knew what to say. He had a way with words that always left you feeling all the love, “Like that’s hard to do.”
He let out a full belly laugh now, “There she is. There’s my smart ass of a girl.”
“You like it.” You countered, pulling away from his strong hold on you.
He nodded, “I love it.”
You couldn’t help but to smile at that comment, “Noted.”
He hummed before dropping his arms from his hold on you, finally letting you squirm away, “Know what else I love?” He asked. He had a mischievous smirk dancing across his face.
Not having a clue what was coming next you innocently answered his question, “What’s that Jake?”
“You.”
A small gasp escaped your throat. Eyes widening and pupils surly dilated, you gave him nothing but a shocked stare, “What?” Finally squeaked out of your mouth after a few long moments.
“I love you.”
You gaped at him. Now of all times? Now?
“Jake! You dropped that bomb right now?” Your head was dizzy with thoughts. How could you face them again after he just did this to you.
He shrugged, “I think I’ve known for a while. They just helped me realize it.” One of the things you loved about him was the complete lack of pressure to respond to it. He didn’t expect it. He knew you took things slow. He was hardly offended. But he knew he loved you and he needed you to know it.
That was when it all clicked for you too. You loved him too. You loved him beyond your wildest measures. You don’t think you’d be able to live a life without him anymore. He’d changed you completely. Changed you whole.
Your eyes found his again. Yours scanned his pretty tanned face. He was smiling. Patient face on as he waited for your response. Your legs felt like jelly when your eyes finally locked with his, “I love you too.”
The smile that lit his face could make you happy for the rest of your life. God, you couldn’t wait to keep making him smile like that. You knew you were in trouble when he picked you right up in his arms kissing any part of you that he could get his mouth on and whispering sweet ‘I love you’s’ in between. The group be dammed.
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