#WSO in backseat of course

[floofballpic]

if there is a tunnel it is going to get flown through, inverted with full afterburner i can promise you that

[roosterforme]

Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout. 

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

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

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time. 

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

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

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was. 

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge." 

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked. 

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth. 

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?" 

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

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

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza. 

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking." 

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?" 

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar." 

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep. 

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

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way. 

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay." 

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side. 

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him. 

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him. 

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs. 

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

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

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home. 

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you. 

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there. 

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers. 

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room. 

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

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

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar. 

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him. 

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly. 

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too. 

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar. 

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started. 

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them. 

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped. 

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process. 

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit. 

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again. 

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him. 

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet. 

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding." 

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips. 

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case. 

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him. 

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life. 

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered. 

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot. 

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers. 

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone. 

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms. 

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache. 

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again. 

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body. 

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response. 

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

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

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk. 

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love. 

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

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

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[lewmagoo]

here are some of my random headcanons for bob floyd

he was raised by women. he is the only boy out of four sisters. he’s smack dab in the middle between the girls. because he grew up surrounded by women, he is very caring, gentle, and compassionate. he is not the type of man to dismiss something a woman says purely because she’s a woman. it’s why, when he becomes natasha’s backseater, they work so well together. he listens to her.

his mother, daisy, left his father, sam, after her youngest daughter was born. she did this to protect herself and her children, because the man was harsh and unkind. he was especially hard on young bobby, insisting he needed to ‘man up’ if he was going to spend his life surrounded by sisters. his mistreatment still haunts bob to this day, and is the reason for many of his insecurities. tired of putting up with sam’s abuse, daisy took her five children and left in the night. they all ended up on his grandmother amelia’s farm in indiana, where bob and his siblings would live until they all were old enough to move out on their own.

growing up on a farm, bob learned all sorts of things. how to care for animals, how to plant and harvest, how to work with his hands. but most importantly, he learned how to fly his grandfather’s plane, used for crop dusting. it was through that, that bob’s love of aviation was born. he spent countless hours reading through the plane’s manual, memorizing every detail, learning the machine like the back of his hand. he studied every aviation book in the local library. aviation quickly became his greatest passion.

which of course, led to him deciding to join the navy. he wanted to use his skills to serve his country and make a difference. being a farm boy wasn’t going to change the world. but flying for the navy might. in the end, bob found his niche as a WSO. his fascination with aircraft operation systems landed him in that position. it’s a job he’s damn good at.

[jostystyles]

enemies to lovers hc's | rf

a/n: im not sorry for this. these came straight from the gc with @lt-natrace and @rhettabbotts and bc im too lazy to write a fic, here's some headcanons we came up with during this mornings brain rot <3 also reader's callsign is yankee bc im self projecting and from ny. i also got really carried away and this is so long i’m sorry. thank u to @mayhem24-7forever and @topguncortez for beta-ing this too!

~ no one understands how you could possibly hate bob. its bob. he's a total sweetheart, the quiet one. but not to you.

~ to you, he's snarky, and there's just something about him that gets under your skin.

~ you're no picnic to him either. he tried to befriend you, a fellow WSO, from the start. but he was met with a blank stare and a scowl. two can play at this game, he thought.

~ it all started one of the very first nights at The Hard Deck. already unamused with the pissing contest between hangman and rooster, you've stuck to phoenix's side as you've flown with her before but aren't paired together for this mission

~ you've heard of her backseater's reputation, and were eager to meet him. someone at your level, who understands the role and loves it just as much as you do. and by the looks of it, he looked like he might be different from the male pilots you've worked with in the past

~ and not to mention he's really fucking hot.

~ but as soon as he cracks a distasteful joke, one that rubs you the wrong way and somehow takes a jab at your ability to fly like him, you're done. so you give him the cold shoulder and think to yourself, he's just like the rest.

~ but that doesn't stop you from trying to impress him, because for some reason you may have developed a crush on him. but after a while, that crush turned to nothing but pure hatred.

~ bob makes your life a living hell. he makes it a point to criticize every little thing you do, and soon enough it became a battle to see who the better wizzo would be.

~ "god, you're fucking insufferable. you really can't keep your mouth shut, can you? you're clogging the damn radio Yankee." he spat. "Bob." Phoenix piped in, but was ignored as you responded. "I've got to get Coyote's attention somehow, asshole. back off."

~ the rest of the squad is used to your bantering, but it never went passed jabs at each others abilities, or other meaningless characteristics.

~ none of it went unnoticed by phoenix, though. she could see right through the snide remarks and icy glares. she knows you. she remembers the blush that crossed your face the first time you laid eyes on bob, and she remembers the way your face fell after his joke went over your head.

~ she knows bob. she knows that he thinks highly of you and is impressed with your work. and that he has the dryest sense of humor known to man, and that he thought you were stuck up after you didn't laugh at his joke.

~ she sees the longing glances bob gives you when you aren't looking. the ones where he stares at you, laughing with fanboy, in that beautiful sundress that flows so perfectly around your curves. and he's angry with how beautiful you look, and how happy you are in that moment, and he's angry because he wonders why can't i be like that with her

~ he wasn't good with feelings. and you were mean to him, so he was mean back. but maybe one night he takes it too far.

~ you've mentioned in passing and in group that your parents struggle with your line of work, and it's taken a toll on your relationship with them. so after a long day of flying and picking fights with each other, you're both exhausted. and of course that tiredness turns to anger, and anger is an emotion you and bob know best with each other.

~ bob's fed up. fed up with himself, and flying, and mav's drills, and you. it's always you.

~ "god after missing that target, it’s no wonder your parents aren’t proud of you” he regrets it as soon as he says it. a surprised "woah" is elicited by rooster, as you stop in your tracks. “you’re a real asshole, floyd” you say, voice shaky, before you turn on your heel and dart away.

~ phoenix grabs bob's arm, pulling him back as the rest of the pilots move along. "what the fuck was that, bob? you know, this little rivaly you and yankee had was cute at first, but it's gotten out of hand lately. coming for her like that? brining her parents into it when you know what their relationship is like? that's a low blow. especially coming from you. you need to take some time and think about whatever this little thing means, because its obvious you've got something else going on." she says, leaving him standing on the tarmac. he waits there for a minute, ashamed. bob feels his jaw twitch before he heads back inside

~ he knows he has to man up and apologize. he didn't mean it, he was frustrated. frustrated with his feelings, and the mission. but his words shoot to kill when he's mad. he has a lot of regrets about that. (thank u to jay for killing me with that)

~ the next day, as he plans to apologize to you, he approaches with caution. he waits for you to say something, anything, but the moment never comes. you don't say a word to him, just leave him with a second long look, full of pain and something else he can't place.

~ it goes on like this for the next few days. no more snide remarks, scowls, or fighting. just stolen glances that don’t go unnoticed by your teammates.

~ in between drills, bob walked past an empty classroom put paused when he heard your voice.

~ “i thought he was different, javy. i don’t know. i’ll get over it.”

~ bob couldn’t help but feel yet another pant of jealousy. he knew you were talking about him. and to confide that in coyote? you were a lot closer than he thought, and he felt stupid for how much he hated that.

~ he decided to stay on base a little later than usual that night, catching up on some reading and drill planning. as he was packing up his bag, he heard some yelling, a loud clatter, and a scream that sounded all too familiar. running into the hallway, he bounced his head around until he found the site of the incident. his heart dropped to his stomach as he spotted you, crouched against the wall, shaking, blood dripping down your face mixing with the tears that were also falling. there was broken glass next to you, a shattered frame. he ran faster than his feet could take him, stumbling before he landed on the ground next to you.

~ startled, you look up through teary eyes to see the last person you’d expect to come to your rescue. bob looks at you with an expression you can’t decipher, one of concern mixed with rage. he reached gently to wipe your tears, uttering a soft, “who did this to you?”

~ "no one, just some new recruits ran by and knocked me into the wall, the picture fell down and hit me on the way. i'm fine." you said, breathily. "no, you're not or you wouldn't be crying and bleeding. let me help you." bob said, standing up and reaching his hand down to help you up. rolling your eyes, you took his hand to stand up, ignoring the fluttering in your tummy as your hand clasped his.

~ he led you into an empty locker room, grabbing the first aid kit. "i'm fine, bob, really. you don't have to help me, just leave me here." "i'm not going to leave you with an open wound. just let me see it."

~ he grabs a piece of gauze, lightly dabbing your temple to clean off some of the blood. "ow." you wince, pulling your head away. bob sighs, "you're so stubborn. sit still and let me clean it, will you?" he looks at you, those fucking big blue eyes boring into yours. "ok, sorry." "thank you."

~ as he cleans the cut, his hands are slightly shaking. his hands are calm and steady in a fighter jet, but they can't be still while he's cleaning the wounds of the prettiest girl he knows. bob's trying to be gentle, but you're so close to him, sitting on the counter in between the sinks and his knee rests between yours.

~ you're looking up at him, and he's fighting every urge he has to not look down at your eyes, and your lips. breaking the silence, you say, "did you learn this one as a boy scout?" bob chuckles. "i'll let you have that one." an uncomfortable silence overcomes you, and he finishes by putting a bandage on.

~ as you go to leave, you turn in the doorway. "hey, bob?" "yeah?" he replies, looking at you. you stare at him for a second, lips parted. "thank you, really." bob gulps, nodding in respone. "yeah, um, of course. and hey, y/n?" surprised at him calling you by name, you answer. "yeah?" "i'm uh, really sorry for what happened, the other day. it was wrong of me and I shouldn't have said that."

~ giving him a soft smile, you respond by saying, "s'okay, bob. it was the heat of the moment. we've all said things we didn't mean."

~ things go back to normal after that, except you and bob no longer seem to have it out for each other. the other pilots notice, but the mission comes along at last. as the news breaks that the dagger squad landed one of the most successful missions in naval history, the decision is made to establish a permanent task force.

~ and just like that, the rivalry picks right back up. "are you fucking kidding me, bob? you can't go one second without taking a stab at me. it's fucking never have i ever. you don't have to single me out." you yell, stomping out of the room where everyone was sat hanging out, making your way to your barrack. bob followed, trying to diffuse the tension. "oh come on, yankee it was a fucking joke. nothing you aren't used to."

~ you finally reached your room, bob somehow managing to follow you in. "get the fuck out of my room floyd. jesus, you can't leave me alone for one god damn second. and to think we were starting to get along, you can't give me a fucking-" he cut you off by grabbing your arm, spinning you around and pulling you flush to his chest. "you make me so fucking mad." he growled.

~ before you could respond, he pulled you even closer, pushing his lis against yours. stunned, you let out a gasp, but your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed him back just as hard, your free hand reaching up to tug at his hair. the kiss was hot and heavy, and you broke apart, gasping for air.

~ “why the fuck did you just kiss me?” you say. “because you’re insufferable. i love you so much for it. since the moment i met you. you make me so mad but in the best god damn way possible.” bob replies, at a volume so low you're not even sure you can hear it.

~ things get stranger from there. no longer are the heated arguments, only light banter that's filled with enough sexual tension to drown jake's and bradley's out. you don't speak of what bob said in your room that night, but instead of fighting, it's just kissing.

~ the usual banter was still banter, but now it was more flirty than it used to be. one day, you showed up to a meeting with a hickey bob gave you not fully covered. “didn’t peg you as the kinda girl to let someone mark you up like that, yankee.” rolling your eyes, you retaliated. “you wish you’d given it to me, bob.” coyote and phoenix made eye contact across the room, knowingly.

~it went on this way for the next few weeks. you and bob maintained your rivalry by day, but your nights were full of stolen kisses and make out sessions.

~ everything was fine, until it wasn't. you couldn't control your feelings for bob any longer. so you start to pull away. and bob picks up on it. one night at the hard deck, you finally break. running out of the bar, bob chases you. "y/n, hey. stop running would you? what's wrong?"

~ "just, fucking go, bob. leave me alone." "not until you tell me what's wrong". you turn to face him, crying. “you can stop messing with me now, ok? i know this doesn’t mean anything to you. you don’t have to pretend this means something. because it does mean something to me and i can’t take it because my feelings are real and i know this is all just a joke to you to spite me.”

~ you turn to go to your car, but bob grabs your hand and stops you. his hand comes up to wipe gently at your tears. "honey, hey. look at me. look at me. it’s not a joke to me. it never was. i’ve loved you since the moment i met you. but all you saw me as was just another cocky pilot, so that’s what i became. i never wanted to hurt you. i just wanted you to notice me. but nobody ever notices the real me.” he confesses.

~ you look up at him, astounded. could he really love you, after all this time? after how horrid you've been, and the things you said? he'd seen the worst of you. he can't love you after that. "no. no. bobby, you're being mean. stop it." you say, pulling away. he stops you.

~ "i'm serious, y/n. I have loved you ever since i have known you. I can promise you that. i’m telling you the truth, i swear. id do anything for you. i’m sorry i made you feel otherwise.” he loves you.

~ and you believe him. because you love him too. you don't love him because you'd been rivals, you love him despite the fact. because you'd seen the worst in each other, and after almost two months of misunderstanding, it was finally worth it.

~ and so you kiss him this time. one that's full of passion, and you can feel just how much you love each other, uttering those three words after you break apart.

tagging: @marvelandotherfandomimagines @sailorscuttle @writercole @rosesvioletshardy @2manytabsopen @purelyfiction @deadratio 💗

[topguncortez]

Day 1: Shibari pairing: Bob x Reader x Jake warnings: SMUT, edging, rope, Bob is a brat word count: 708

|| masterlist || kinktober || Kinktober masterlist || library page ||

It was a glorious sight displayed in front of her. The way his abs contracted, and the red skin around his wrists as he pulled at the rope binding him to the bedpost. His cock was red, achy, and leaking as he clenched his eyes shut. The smallest of tears were leaking from his eyes. 

“Please, Y/N, please,” Bob cried. You smirked and switched the cock ring off, watching as he collapsed in relief. He had been tied up for nearly an hour, as you edged him. He opened his blue eyes and looked at you. You were still fully clothed in your khaki uniform as he was bare in front of you. 

“Are you going to apologize?” You asked him, watching as the shyest smirk came across his face. Of course he wasn’t going to apologize for what he did. Bob Floyd was a brat, you learned that from date number one. You guys had gotten into a playful argument about the latest stats of some random science thing, and when you had proved him wrong, he pouted about it. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” He groaned, and pulled at the rope. 

“Oh really? What do you think, Jake?” You looked over into the corner of the room, where the cocky lieutenant was sitting. 

“I think. . . He needs to apologize,” Jake smirked. 

“I wasn’t even being bad!” 

“Flirting with Bradshaw isn’t being bad? Or ignoring Jake when he tried talking to you? Or ignoring me when I told you we were leaving? What was it that you said?” 

“I wanna stay with Bradley. . .” Bob mumbled. 

It was known that you and Bob were together. It wasn’t uncommon to see the two of you together, walking around base, going to the Hard Deck together, always waiting for eachother at the end of the day. It was also known that you two liked to invite Jake to join you whenever he was in town. But being in the same squadron meant that Jake frequented a lot in their bedroom. 

Bob was usually the doting boyfriend, paying attention to every little move that you would make. It was almost sickly sweet watching him with you. But the second that you two walked into the Hard Deck tonight, and you spotted Jake, walking right over to him, it was like a switch had gone off with Bob. He grunted softly as he watched Jake place his hands on your hips, and kiss your cheek. The quiet WSO rolled his eyes and stomped over to the pool table to find the rest of the squadron. You and Jake had joined the group a moment later, drinks in your hands, watching the sight of Bob Floyd shamelessly flirting with Bradley. 

You decided to let it play out a bit, but it was when Bob placed his head on Bradley’s shoulder, that you had enough. You stood up quickly, walked over to the two, and grabbed the WSO’s wrist. Jake was already waiting by the door for the two of you, following you out to your car. You put Bob in the backseat, and that’s when he realized that he messed up. He couldn’t even put up a fight as he walked straight to the bedroom, quietly stripping out of his uniform. He sat on the bed naked, as you and Jake talked about his punishment in the kitchen. He waited with his hands on his thighs, trying hard not to touch his hard cock. 

He didn’t know what to expect for his punishment, he didn’t expect rope though. He watched with wide eyes as you straddled his chest, and expertly tied the rope around his wrists, and then tie him to the bedpost. Bob’s eyes then looked down as Jake placed the cock ring around him. And that’s how he ended up in his current position, of both you and Jake, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at him. 

“Now tell us, Bobby,” Jake said, leaning on the bed. You sucked in a breath as you watched Jake lick a stripe up Bob’s cock, your eyes flicking up to see the WSO let out a groan, “Do you still want to stay with Bradshaw?”

--- --- ---

note: surprise shawty (well see how this goes)

[bayisdying]

Imagine being Payback's best friend and falling in love with Fanboy

First of all let's establish that Payback is the BEST best friend. He loves you like a sister. Anything you need/want? You got it girl.

Rueben loves bragging about you to all the Daggers but especially Fanboy (benefits of being his WSO)

If he's hanging out at the Hard Deck and you call? He's dropping his darts to answer the phone.

Anyways

You come to visit him shortly after the mission, just to lay your eyes on him and make sure he really is as "okay" as he said he was.

It's a total surprise when you walk into the Hard Deck that night.

Payback is ESTATIC to see you and LOUDLY announces to the Squad that "THIS IS THE FRIEND I ALWAYS TALK ABOUT BROS."

You meld into the group super well, and end up sitting next to Fanboy watching Payback and Rooster play pool.

You share alot of interests with him so you two fall into very easy conversation.

You spend most of your trip with Payback and Fanboy.

You know damn well you have a crush on the nerdy WSO. And you also know that Rueben also knows. He can read you like a book.

"So when are you asking my backseater out?"

"What are you talking about Rue?"

"Don't act stupid girlie."

Anyways you do ask him out and Fanboy bursts into a huge smile and immediately says yes.

First date is a picnic on the beach. Fanboy is a classic romantic man okay?

It goes very well

Payback is yalls biggest supporter. He loves your love.

Claims dibs on being the Best Man at the wedding.

Which of course he is, 2 years later. Watching as his best friend marries his other best friend.

See another happy one. I don't just make people cry.

My forever taglist (aka the besties): @kloofspeaks @callsign-milano @callsignthirsty @itzyogurl92 @roosterscockpit

[wackapedia]

Until I Found You | Bob Floyd x reader

yes, based on that song by Stephen Sanchez  Wordcount: 617 :) vewy short Warnings: None, just fluff

You were saddled up in the aircraft, waiting for the current batch to finish training with Maverick. Cockpit half shut and waiting for mission control's green light, you opted to calm your nerves prior to this test. The last time, you were extremely nervous and became Maverick's first blood. Bob was finishing up pre-flight checks with Phoenix as she shuts the windshield above them.  He was muttering to himself all the theoretical trajectories he studied last night, an opposite to what Maverick had taught: ditch the manual. He couldn't help but feel nervous as his leg kept bouncing up and down. "Earth turbulence?" Phoenix chuckles. "Sorry." Bob stops, opting instead to look around the runway to distract him from his thoughts. The backseater zeroes in on the aircraft next to theirs, particularly, the lone passenger who looks like she is also muttering theories to herself. Her glittery helmet sparkles despite being in the shade. Bob wonders if is it just her helmet, or is she an ethereal being who descended from the stars, glowing among them. Maybe that explains why you wanted to be a pilot: to take your place among the stars. The WSO fumbles with the communication controls in front of him, occasionally glancing to your direction. He switches through several channels, most of them empty, one sounded like Rooster, and a couple of them were just static, until... "Aha!" He's found your channel. "I would never fall in love again until I found her... " Bob blinks vacantly, looking at you while you were minding your own business, singing to yourself, or so you thought. "... I said I would never fall unless it's you I fall into.. " You continue to sing, unknowing of the WSO next to you watching and listening to one of his favorite songs. "...I was lost within the darkness but then I found her..." "I found you..." Bob mouths the lyrics, singing along. And then there was silence. You whip your head to Bob's direction all of a sudden, startling him and almost knocking himself out of the cockpit. "You've been listening this whole time?!" You look at Bob from your cockpit. "What- no i just- no...?" Bob replies incoherently, his stressed out breathing crackles into his mic. "Oh this is embarrassing," you frown. "Sorry for that. Must've been weird hearing me sing to myself-" you stumble on your words too. "No, it was quite calming actually, I enjoyed it." Bob smiles, giving you a thumbs up from his seat. "I quite like listening to you." You were left quite speechless with Bob's comment. With nothing else to say, you give him a thumbs up back, trying to keep the heat of your cheeks at bay. You keep a brief eye contact with Bob until... "So, are you guys dating now or...?" Phoenix's voice startles both you and her own backseater. "Phoenix!" "NATASHA?!!" You and Bob say at the same time. "What? We're in the same comms channel, of course I can hear you." She laughs teasingly. "Greenlight, squadron 2, prepare for taxi." Mission control suddenly rings into the radio, putting all three of you into pilot mode. You slide your cockpit door shut and fasten your mask as you carry out takeoff procedures. Once you were steadily on air and make your way to Mav, Phoenix decides to make one more jab. "You two should kiss after this session." You and Bob exhale exasperatedly into the radio. She'll never let this die. "Oh? Who's kissing who?" Maverick unexpectedly butts in as you spot him within airspace. He's jumped into comms. Fueled by love, fury, and embarrassment, that is how you became the only test squadron to successfully take down Maverick.

[veirtyel]

My not-asked-for-takes on which Hogwarts house the TGM crew would be in and why I’m right

(jk this shit is always objective don’t take me too seriously)

Rooster — I honest to god believe Roo is a Hufflepuff, and hear me out before you say he’s a Gryffindor. One of the first things we see Rooster do in the air is sacrifice himself to make sure Payback and Fanboy don’t get “shot down” by Maverick. One of his main objectives when in the sky is protecting his wingman. When Maverick was shot down he did not hesitate to go after him. When Maverick “betrayed his trust” by pulling his papers, we saw how crushed Rooster was, enough to not speak to the man for who knows how long. If that doesn’t describe someone who values loyalty I don’t know what does. Rooster is loyal, a kind friend, and in my opinion the most Hufflepuff esq. member of the flying crew. Plus he looks like he smokes on the reg.

Hangman — Hangman is giving Gryffindor and Slytherin, but I lean towards Gryffindor with him. Above everything else he strives to be the best, to take risks, to be brave! He’s giving asshole Gryffindor who knows he’s the best, and will always reach to be the best. The Slytherin is also there with his ambition, but I know Hangman would value taking risks and not thinking too much while flying. He’s all about being the best, which means being sometimes a bit stupid. Big, dumb, reckless Gryffindor energy.

Phoenix — Now, I believe Pheonix is  also a Gryffindor. The girl is undoubtedly brave and determined, she’s also not afraid to butt some heads (come on, she literally guts Rooster when they see each other and she does not hesitate to immediately insult Hangman. It’s giving Gryffindor). She also appears to be a loyal and almost immediately accepts and to an extent, even defend Bob when they first meet. Phoenix could honestly fit with most houses, but Gryffindor is the biggest vibe I get from her. 

Bob — I think Bob’s vibe is a Ravenclaw. I’ve seen Hufflepuff for him, but If anything Bob is quick-witted, fast thinker, and intelligent as a back-seater. He has to constantly watch his and Phoenix back, and lets not forget his little “yet somehow, you always manage” moment with Hangman. Like you witty son of a bitch. Bob is a sweetheart of course, but he’s also incredibly intelligent, and I feel like the characteristics he portrays and the skills he’d have to value as a WSO match with that of a Ravenclaw. 

Coyote — Can’t exactly explain why I feel this way, but Coyote makes me think he’s a Slytherin. He seems like the kind of guy who’s ambition gets them places. King is a top gun pilot, and let me just say a determined and all around confident guy would be the type to befriend Hangman. I can see him and Hangman as that asshole Slytherin/Gryffindor duo that everyone sorta kinda hates. Coyote is a Slytherin who managed to find himself surrounded my non-Slytherins but vibes with it. 

Fanboy — Similar to Phoenix, I think my boy can fit in with most if not all the houses, but my gut is saying he’s a Gryffindor. My dude is a little too confident in his abilities (this man started the 200 push-up thing come on) but also based of just the way he talks and how he’s presented I’m just getting a Gryffindor vibe. Also a random moment in the end he’s yelling at Rooster that “he’s got this he’s got this” when his laser wasn’t working, and I was getting confidence, brave, determined Gryffindor. Again, his character is a little harder to place but this is what I was getting. 

Payback — I think my dude is a Hufflepuff. Again, hard to place but my man was giving Hufflepuff since the beginning when he was the one who tried to ease the clear tension between Hangman and Rooster when he decided to change topics and ask about the mission. Also, the man just seems chill, and I think as a pilot with someone in the backseat, they gotta be hella trusting, and loyal at that. I know we don’t see much of it but I see a loyalty with Payback to characters like Phoenix and Fanboy, which is one reason I believe he is is a Hufflepuff.

[sointoycu]

ugh

(TW, S*xual things are mentioned)

Lately I’ve found myself identifying with a lot of posts from the t c odd as that is, they relate close to the mess I’m in right now.

I’m catching feelings for my boss. We’ve had a rocky road, he and I. And I want to punch him the fuck out sometimes, still. But lately, things have escalated. They’re changing. Before, it was a bit of meaningless flirts and some odd texts I wasn’t sure how to feel about. Hell, I was even weirded out at him by first and even told friends that I was. I haven’t told any of them about the recent changes in my feelings, though, so they all think I’m still a bit disgusted by him. That’s a whole other mess, though.

He’s married. Been for 18 years. (He’s about double my age, but I’ve always liked older men/wSo, I’ve tried to push myself away. But, he gives me rides to and from work sometimes, as I do not currently have a car. One night, it somehow ended up being us alone, him massaging my thigh. He had asked for consent of course, and without thinking, I said it was fine. We had pulled over in an empty parking lot (it was like 10 pm, a lot of places were closed anyways due to corona), and he asked to kiss me. That’s when it sort of clicked in my head. I can’t do this. I told him to stop, and we let it go. My body was still tingling a bit when I got home, and I immediately rushed to the shower. It wasn’t anything unusual, I always shower immediately after work. As I stripped my clothes, I came to realize just how aroused I was, simply from him touching my leg. I touched myself, just to see, and god, I was aching. I felt so disgusting. Here I am, soaking wet, thinking about what a married man had done to me. I get it’s him too, but I shouldn’t have been feeling this way. I showered, got myself off, and he didn’t leave my mind the whole night. I masturbated again in bed that night, the incident fresh on my mind. It stayed like that, for a long time. We never mentioned it at work, and a few times he gave me a ride after that, and it was normal. We talked, maybe exchanged some flirts, but it was nothing like THAT. I felt a longing deep within me, though, wishing he would kiss me. Wanting to sit on his lap, wanting him to reach over and even touch me slightly again. I knew when it actually happened, I would resist him, because it’s wrong, but I deep down wanted it. That night he asked to kiss me, I more than anything wanted to say yes.

About 3 days ago, something else happened. About halfway through our drive, he made a joke, and I made a sort of flirty one back, to which he blushed and replied “shut up!” (I love his lil blush) I told him to make me, and he said in what ways would you like me to do that? I jokingly said it was his choice. He then said “I don’t know if I’m allowed to flirt with you”, and I said I don’t see why not, and all of a sudden his hand was back on my leg. He asked if it was okay. I said yes, he ran a red light, and we found another abandoned parking lot. He unbuckled his seat belt, and told me to tell him to stop if I wanted, and asked if this was okay. I slowly nodded, the guilt starting to surface, not quite there yet. He began massaging my thigh, and then began to feel me up. He groped me, and I began to let out low moans, because I was so desperate to be touched and this was him and I had been daydreaming about it escalating forever, so I let it all happen. He began to kiss my neck, I began to moan louder. He kept asking if everything was okay as he did it, and god, it was such a turn on. He teased me, asked if I ever did this with another boss, and I tried to answer him, but I was speechless. (he was trying to tease me, because he joked before about how I’m flirty, and how I’m too cute to be single). I was stuttering, it was so embarassing. He kept kissing me, and reached under my shirt, toying with my bra strap. I pushed him away at first, in a sort of subtle way, and he went back to groping me through my shirt. A few seconds pass, he asks me if I’m okay, I moan something in response, which gets him all flustered, and cussing like he does when he’s turned on. He then tried to lift my shirt, and then it really hits me. We couldn’t do this. He had a family. He’s my boss. I ask him what he’s doing, and he says he’s lifting my shirt, he wants to see me. I look over, reach to him, and he’s rock solid already. God, I want him to see me so bad. I wanted him to strip me down completely, fuck me senseless in his back seat, until I’m crying out for him, until I make a fucking mess. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. But I stop him, and say “you’re married. We can’t.” He chuckled, and you know what he says? He swears to me he’s never got this close with another girl, that he’s fantasized of course but has never felt the need to touch them so bad, and says “this is the closest I’ve ever come to cheating on my wife.” THE F- anyhow, he takes me home after that, and says he’s sorry if he crossed any lines. I tell him it’s nothing I didn’t want, because that’s the truth. I’m not gonna bug out on him when I’ve spent a majority of my free time wishing this would happen. That’s stupid. He says he wishes things were different, he’s happy with his wife, but if he wasn’t married he would be all over me. And that he’d want to be with me, would want me to wake up next to him. He called me cute, said I was sexy, and that he couldn’t get over how attracted he was to me. He said the infatuation is killing him, his words. He wishes it could go past that. I didn’t say anything back, because I agreed, so I told him goodnight. We had a little back and forth again, in which he told me there were several things he would want to do to me, in his backseat if needed. I said “you’re just gonna leave me like that?” jokingly, and he said “I didn’t ask you to leave” and then asked me if I wanted to do something another day. (We’ll get back to that.) I went home, showered as usual, and thought about him all night. (Also masturbated like 3 times, called his name a bit loudly, my mom wondered what i said, but I told her I almost fell off the bed and cursed LMAO)

Ever since that day, things have been different. The next day, he asked if I was mad. I said of course not, and he said it seemed like I didn’t enjoy what happened. I said I just didn’t think we should’ve been doing it, and he didn’t know wat was going through my mind (meant it as a flirt). He said next time I should tell him, so we could be on the same page. Then, he told me to meet him in the office when I had the chance. I went right away, of course. He asked if I wanted to do something saturday. I asked him like what?, and he told me he wanted to go out to eat. We played with the idea before, but it was always “oh we should’ve went out!” or some stupid shit. So, I said yeah. We have it planned for Saturday (it’s currently Wednesday). And I’m just... so excited. And I want to kiss him. I know I’ll push him away, out of respect, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want him. I know it makes me horrible. If I could just spend a night with him, truly connect, I think I would be set for awhile. In my dreams, we make out in the parking lot, I sit in his lap, kiss him senseless, maybe even let him do what he wants to me. He’s joked about wanting to “teach” me some things anyhow, because I’m very sheltered and innocent. He knows just what the fuck I like, and it kills me. But I need him to keep hush about going out, if we do. Because like I mentioned before, people think I hate him, or am just grossed out by him. This is just a whole ass mess, and I should just distance myself, or tell him we need to keep it professional, but I fucking can’t, because of my selfish and feverish need, because of my silly crush. Hearing him call me cute, especially when he tells other employees how cute I am (he told one guy who joked about me being his work wife that he would need to share, and said “isn’t she cute? the things I would do to her”, and I’m not over it), just makes me feel so good. We connect as people, which is why I’m so attracted to him. (I’m the sort of person that cant base attraction on looks alone, personality is everything, and his is just what I want. Nerdy, funny, intelligent, talkative, etc etc) We can talk for hours, and have. He’s so intelligent, so mature, so caring, so sweet, this isn’t just some sexual frustration, although that’s a sizable part of it. I actually like him, and that’s what sucks.

[ntrending]

Everything we know about the new airplanes in ‘Top Gun: Maverick’

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/everything-we-know-about-the-new-airplanes-in-top-gun-maverick/

Everything we know about the new airplanes in ‘Top Gun: Maverick’

An F/A-18F Super Hornet on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt on July 22, 2019. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Erick A. Parsons/Released/)

If you’ve watched the trailer—fans have viewed it tens of millions of times—for the next year’s Top Gun: Maverick, then you’ve seen scenes of Tom Cruise rocketing off an aircraft carrier and fighter jets cruising in close formation over the water. Those airplanes in the trailer, with one exception, are F/A-18 Super Hornets, a far cry from the jets Maverick and Goose flew into the danger zone in the 1986 film. Those were F-14 Tomcats, big, beloved, tough, fast airplanes the Navy no longer flies.

The difference between those jets represents the technological gulf between aircraft the Navy first deployed in the early 1970s and fighters that began flying on and off carriers in the early 2000s. An important, plot-thickening distinction: the Super Hornets don’t require a dedicated radar operator and navigator. Goose is now optional; his precise job doesn’t exist anymore.

We spoke with former naval aviators and actual Topgun—that is, the US Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instructor program—pilots to learn about the differences between them, and what it’s like to turn and burn in these metal birds.

The Tomcat

The original Top Gun, and the aircraft in it, were a product of the technology and geopolitics of its time. The Tomcat was built with a specific purpose in mind, says Vincent Aiello (call sign: Jell-O), the host of the Fighter Pilot Podcast and a former F/A-18 Hornet and Super Hornet pilot and Topgun instructor. The Tomcat was a large airplane with a big radar, and it carried a powerful weapon, the AIM-54 Phoenix air-to-air missile.

“The F-14 was designed for fleet defense during the Cold-War scenario of Soviet bombers attacking the carrier strike group,” says Aiello. The F/A-18, on the other hand, was designed to “be good at a myriad of things.”

The way that aviators operate the jets has changed, too. The biggest difference noticeable to people who watch the films is that the number of people it takes to make the jets fly is different now. In Top Gun, Goose was the RIO, or “radar intercept officer.” And operating that radar took a lot of work. “The radar interface for the aircrew was so intensive that it took someone with a dedicated effort to optimize the radar and detect other aircraft,” says Aiello.

Then there was the computing power on the aircraft—or lack thereof. “It was a Commodore 64 with wings on it,” John DePree (call sign: Cosmo), said on an episode of the Fighter Pilot Podcast focused on the F-14. For example: the mission computer loaded off of magnetic tape.

That magnetic-tape computer had so little memory that its crew had to switch programs depending on what the jet was doing at the moment—the RIO would hit a switch to bring up the bombing program, and then after the bomb-dropping ended, they’d reload the air-to-air program, remembers David Culpepper (call sign: Chili), who flew the Tomcat for nearly a decade.

The computer was old, and the plane was big: Culpepper remembers that when taxiing, it “drove like a truck.” The F-14 had a wingspan of 64 feet. The Tomcat’s replacement, the F/A-18 Hornet and the bigger, newer variants known as Super Hornets, have a wingspan of 40 and nearly 45 feet, respectively. And the Tomcat’s top speed was faster: it’ll hit 1,544 mph, while the Super Hornet goes a pokey 1,190 mph.

Aiello compares the Tomcat to a 1969 Chevy Camaro: “It’s just biggish, brutish, in your face, loud, American muscle.”

The Rhino

Today, the aircraft in the trailer for “Top Gun: Maverick” are Super Hornets (nickname: the Rhino), and gone are the days of the RIOs. (If you watch the trailer, the plane at the very end is a Tomcat, possibly present thanks to CGI magic.) The radar system is improved enough that the pilot can fly the plane and use the radar at the same time, no Goose needed.

Super Hornets come in two variants: a single-seater and a two-seater, meaning that unlike a Tomcat, which engineers designed around a two-person crew, a pilot can fly an F/A-18 all by themselves. The two-seaters, technically known as the F/A-18F, can host a “weapons systems officer” in the backseat (abbreviation: WSO, pronounced “whizz-oh”). Alternatively, that backseat can be outfitted with all the controls a pilot would need to fly the Super Hornet.

This is presumably a huge perk for filming. Paramount could put Tom Cruise and other actors in the Rhino while a real Navy pilot is in charge of the plane from the front seat. That wasn’t possible with the Tomcat, which never had the pilot’s controls in Goose’s seat. (Indeed, a document posted here states that Paramount and the Navy arranged to have the actors ride in the backseat of F/A-18s—although simply riding in a fighter jet, and enduring the Gs it generates, is very arduous, as I personally can attest to.)

Gone, of course, is the computer with magnetic tape: the Super Hornet has six solid-state computers on board. And a display on the Super Hornet now is touch-sensitive, so it’s more like an iPhone than a Commodore 64.

While the Tomcat is powerful, the Hornet and Super Hornet are more agile. If an F/A-18 and F-14 were to fight, the former would have an advantage in that realm. “I can attest to that personally,” says Aiello. And with a modern aircraft comes a plane easier to fly: the Tomcat was challenging to fly well, while the Hornet is easier to be good in, says Culpepper.

The Hornets and Super Hornets may be known for finesse, nuance, and ergonomics, but the Tomcat was known for toughness, speed, and acceleration. “The F-18, while very capable, and extremely competent in its own right, doesn’t quite have the same bad-boy image as an F-14,” Aiello reflects.

Written By Rob Verger

[bayisdying]

Lucky Penny - Chapter Two

A/N: here comes chapter two, aka my problem child. Please enjoy this because I still kinda hate it. As always feedback is much appreciated and encouraged 🥰

The sun wasn't even out yet when two distinct alarms rang out through the bedroom.

"Five more minutes." Fanboy mumbles, cuddling closer to Lucky.

"Come on babe, we can't be late." Lucky tries to wiggle from his tight grasp.

After much convincing (on Lucky's part) and much whining (on Fanboy's part) the pair get ready for their first day back at Top Gun.

"I'll see you there handsome."

"Kick ass today babe."

-----------

When Lucky entered the room, she noticed that most of the seats were occupied. She saw Rueben and Mickey sitting together in the 2nd row. She took a seat next to who she believed was named Coyote and shot him a shy smile. Before they could strike up a conversation they were called to attention and introduced to their instructor - one Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick.

As the mission was explained, the more uncomfortable Lucky felt. This was literally a mission impossible, there was no way this could be flown. She looked around the room, this was the best of the best, but even they were simply human. This was one people won't come back from.

When they were dismissed for their first dogfighting lesson, Lucky's eyes met Fanboy's. He saw the anxiety in hers, and she saw the excitement in his.

Lucky sat by the radio as Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy took to the air first. She shook her head when the bet was placed, it reminded her of the bets the three of them would set years ago.

-----

"Race ya to the Hard Deck tonight after training. Loser buys the first round." Lucky sent the text with a mission. She wasn't going to let the boys beat her again.

"How about loser has to buy the first two rounds?" Fanboy texted back.

"Deal." Payback responds.

Later that night, the three rushed to their respective cars and sped to the beach side bar. Lucky was the first to arrive, the girl never did the speed limit anyways. She took her seat at the bar, and told Penny she was waiting to see who owed her the drink.

Payback was the next in the door, he was sweating because he had sprinted from his car. He looked around and spotted Lucky, and took a sigh of relief when he didn't see his backseater sitting next to her.

"Penny I'll have a beer, put it on Fanboy's tab." He says once he catches his breath, settling in on a barstool to the left of Lucky.

"Cheers to not being the loser!" Lucky exclaimed as the two friends clinked their drinks together laughing.

Finally Fanboy graced the bar with his presence, and realizing his loss he sighed. "Give me a beer to chase my woes Penny." He very dramatically said, taking the barstool on the right side.

-----

When it was Lucky's turn to fly around with Maverick, she went up with Phoenix and Bob. She'd flown with Phoenix before and loved the other woman like a sister. Bob seemed like a very nice guy and a great WSO. She felt good about this run.

"Alright Phoenix, let's show these boys how to get this done." Lucky said.

"Of course hun, we got this." Phoenix waved back.

Then the dogfight started and they were putting up a damn good showing. Even Maverick commented on their flying styles and how well they were working together.

Unfortunately they both eventually got shot down. Lucky was the unlucky one shot first trying to give Phoenix enough time to get away.

She was cursing her boyfriend in her mind as Hondo counted out her push ups. She was going to make him pay later for this stupid bet.

"191....192....193..." Hondos voice sounded so far away despite being right above her. "...198...199...200. Good job Lucky you're done." The girl collapsed on the ground and groans.

"Hondo, I'm dying."

"No you're just dramatic."

"Rude."

-----

Back at their cottage later that night the couple was snuggled up on the couch watching "Golden Girls" reruns.

"I can't believe you made that damn bet, Roos and I had to do 400 pushups."

"I'm sorry cariño." He says, leaving soft kisses on the top of her head.

"I think you need to make it up to me." She pouts.

"Oh really? What do you have in mind mí amor?"

"I think it's been far too long since you fucked me Garcia."

His eyes light up, as he places kisses all over her face and down her jaw. "I think I can handle that."

-----

They tried so hard to resist their attraction, but that night on the beach changed everything.

Fanboy had asked Lucky to walk down to the beach with him after their third beers. She had accepted because it meant getting out of the sweaty bar that was too loud for her liking.

She took off her shoes and he offered to hold them for her.

"It's pretty out tonight, you can really see the stars." Lucky commented as the two stopped walking for a second to catch their bearings.

Fanboy didn't reply but he looked over at her in total awe.

"Stop staring at me you nerd." She smiled so brightly at him it hurt.

He wasn't thinking clearly at all when he leaned in to the girl he had fallen in love with. She didn't pull away as their lips collided for the first time. That first kiss was messy and rushed but absolutely perfect.

They stood there staring into each others eyes after they parted.

"I'm not sorry" he said.

"I'm not either. Kiss me again."

He did not hesitate to answer that plea, and kissed her hard. Deciding that if he died tomorrow he would die a lucky man.

-----

The Forevers: @kloofspeaks @notyoursbutlewis @roosterscockpit @callsign-milano @callsignthirsty @callmemana @likelyrowdy

The Discord Loves: @mtnofgrace @cycbaby @callsign-dragonbaron @callsignscupcake @askmarinaandothers @persephonesportal