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scarletmika · 29 days ago

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Kiss Cam : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: The San Diego Padres are saluting the U.S. Navy during their upcoming game, and the Dagger Squad has been invited to attend. Hangman's only goal for the game? Get you and Bob to finally act on your feelings and confess to each other.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, friends to lovers, pining, language, female reader, language, maybe some incorrect descriptions of the Navy, suggestive and steamy but no smut, some suggestive and steamy PDA that's borderline not appropriate for public spaces, Padres don't do a kiss cam but lets pretend, I'm a Pirates fan (please pity me) so maybe some incorrect descriptions of Padres games and Petco Park and San Diego

Word Count: 12,368 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“There’s something about a Padres jersey that has our own last names on the back that’s kind of really cool,”

You’d shot Natasha an eye roll from across the room, catching the specially made Padres jersey with your last name stitched into the back when she’d tossed it your way. In turn, you’d grabbed the one lying on your bed, ‘Trace’ stitched into the back, and tossed it over to where she sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor. You tugged your tank top down over the pink, lacy floral bra you wore before plopping down on your bed with your jersey in hand.

“Is it bad that I kind of hate them?” Nat raised her eyebrow as you held out your jersey in front of you, examining the dark brown fabric and gold stripes, before laying it down on the bed next to you. “Not the jersey itself, but that it has our names. Kind of wanted to wear my Bogaerts jersey to the game.”

Nat hummed, dragging herself off the floor and throwing herself down on the bed beside you. You cast a glance down at her, just to see a cheeky grin on her lips.

“Dying to wear Bogaerts’s name on your back-”

“Please, Phoenix, we all know she’s dying to wear the last name ‘Floyd’ on her jersey,”

Hangman’s unexpected voice was not a welcome one, as he came strolling into your bedroom to lean against the doorframe with that signature smirk of his. His presence only garnered a groan out of you as Nat sat up, laughing at the comment.

“Right, almost forgot about her undying love for our teammate-”

“I don’t remember saying you could come in,” you interjected, sending Jake a pointed look, ignoring Natasha’s comment the best you could with red creeping up your neck. His grin only widened as he lifted his hand, dangling his truck keys in the air with a little shake.

“Perks of having the spare key to the ladies’ apartment. Your fault, you entrusted me with it. Best friend perks, and whatnot,” he waved his hand dismissively, before giving you a pointed look in return to your own. “I’m also your five-minute warning that the Bradshaw Bronco just picked up the pizza and beer for lunch and should be here soon, since neither of you likes checking the groupchat. Sometimes I wonder if you two have muted it.”

“I’m terrified that they somehow shoved Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in the back of that thing,” Natasha chimed in with a fake shiver, shooting Hangman a sly middle finger for his groupchat comment. Her actions made you laugh, nudging her shoulder with your own.

“True, those three are the most brutal during dogfight football. Lord knows what happens when they're in close proximity to each other-”

“Ladies, we have more pressing things to discuss!” Hangman interrupted, clapping his hands as he stepped toward the bed, standing directly before the edge with his hands resting on his hips. That alone had you and Nat sharing a look of amusement, but Jake Seresin was all business. “I’m determined to take ‘Operation Peob’ to the next level tonight…and by next level, I mean get you, our little flower, laid.”

You weren’t entirely sure if your brain was short-circuiting or if you’d actually heard your best friend right. Truly, though, knowing Jake as long as you had, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been speaking total nonsense. Judging by the pained groan that Nat let out at your side, you knew you’d heard him right.

“Operation Peob-?”

“It’s his stupid 1000-step plan to get you and Bob to fess up that’s not working,” Nat explained with a shake of her head. “He’s been at it for months. I’ve helped, obviously, because I’m sick of seeing you two pining after one another, but the mashup of ‘Peony’ and ‘Bob’ is just terrible.”

“That time we invited you guys out for drinks, but we both canceled last second, so it was just you and Bob? My plan,” Hangman grabbed your desk chair, wheeling it over in front of the bed to sit backwards on it, that shit-eating grin on his face that you just wanted to smack off. “Or when I started that childish game of seven minutes in heaven to lock you guys in a closet? Or when I blamed that screwed up pre-flight checklist on you and Bob so you’d be held later together-”

“I’m sorry, you did what-?”

“Point is,” Jake quickly interjected, cutting you off midsentence. “I’ve tried every single trick in the book, everything I could think of, and you two are dense. Hell, it’s like trying to talk to two brick walls, you refuse to act on shit! So, I’ve got a foolproof plan in line tonight, even Nat thought it was a good idea.”

“True, might be his best one yet,”

You looked between them as they both looked at you expectantly. Natasha Trace, your best friend and roommate, one of your closest confidants. Jake Seresin, your childhood best friend, whom you, for some reason, followed straight into the Navy because you couldn’t bear to be without him. Two people you adored more than life…who sounded certifiably insane right now.

“Guys, I’m not in love with Bob-”

“You are,” they both cut in simultaneously.

There was no reason to argue. These two people knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes, so of course they’d picked up on it.

Robert “Bob” Floyd, the bane of your existence. Not really, because you knew if he wasn’t in your life, you’d probably spend your entire life somehow searching for him. Your other best friend, who had somehow claimed that title in the few short weeks leading up to that Uranium mission. The man who, when you started sobbing as you held him in the hospital hours after the bird-strike during training, you realized you were falling head over heels in love with.

But that was months ago, before your special detachment became a permanent squadron in San Diego. You weren’t falling anymore, you were in love, and if you had to watch him do another round of push-ups during Maverick’s drills while his arms strained and sweat in the California heat, you were going to, quite literally, gnaw the bars off the enclosure you’d closed yourself into in your mind.

“It’s not my fault he’s so hot in such a fucking nonchalant way,” Nat and Jake laughed the second you dramatically threw yourself backward on your bed. “Seriously! Sure, he stutters when he’s nervous, and he’s got those stupidly cute glasses, but Jesus Christ, if he’s not the most adorable man. But, then you, Hangman, manage to piss him off and he gets this-this fucking air of slight confidence around him, he gets so quick and witty with his comments and I’m, like, two seconds from climbing his tall, slender ass like a fucking tree.”

Word-vomit, but you didn’t care. There was no use lying anymore. Jake and Natasha were silent for only a moment before Nat’s laughter finally managed to escape her.

“Wow, you have it worse for Floyd than I thought you did!”

“I seriously don’t even think he realizes how hot he is,” you shouted, completely exasperated as you threw your arms out toward the ceiling. “He thinks girls don’t pay him any attention, meanwhile I feel like a total ass the way I’m eyeing him like a piece of meat everytime his shirt rides up on the beach. Then–the worst part–he’s out here holding doors for me, brought me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday, texts me good night and good morning every day–a thing that COUPLES DO–even makes sure he walks on the outside of the sidewalk when we’re all in downtown. He’s, quite literally, driving me insane because he’s the definition of the perfect man. As if he crawled straight out of my childhood diary.”

No one else could get a word in before the doorbell rang, and you froze. Natasha laughed again, grabbing onto your arms and tugging you back into a seated position on the bed before climbing off of it herself. Jake had already put your desk chair back across the room and was halfway to the door before he shot you a wink over his shoulder.

“No, you’re driving yourself insane by not just jumping the man’s bones, given that he’s clearly just as obsessed with you as you are with him. But have no fear. Trust in Phoenix and me, and Operation Peob will go just perfectly tonight-”

Nat gave him a shove to the back, pushing him out of your bedroom.

“Give her a damn minute, I think she’s still processing the fact that she just finally owned up to her crush. Just go get the door…and think of a new name for this dumb operation of ours on the way there, too,”

They were gone in seconds, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Rooster announcing himself the second they opened the front door. You? You were stuck in place, thinking back over all of those moments Jake (and subsequently Natasha) had thrust you into over the last few months.

That dinner hadn’t been awkward in the slightest with just you and Bob. Honestly, you’d stayed there for upwards of four hours just talking and laughing about anything and everything like you usually did. He’d let you drink, picked up the bill without letting you even reach for your purse, and drove you home. That childish seven minutes in heaven game wasn’t even awkward. They’d shoved you both into a hallway closet in Rooster’s apartment, you’d wrapped Bob in a hug, and just laughed about your friends' antics in the dark of the closet. No one was even surprised to see you wrapped around one another when the door finally opened: the second Bob had gotten comfortable around you, the pair of you were attached at the hip like that all the time.

You loved him, but you could never tell where he was at when it came to your blurry relationship, so you always danced on the edge of wanting to say something and biting your tongue. But if Hangman was this insistent, could he see something you couldn’t? Did he know something you didn’t?

“Any chance I could get some help with these pizzas?”

And suddenly, there he stood. Tall, lean, sandy blonde hair still perfectly swept to the side on top of his head, balancing three boxes of pizza in his hands, along with the box of garlic bread and mozzarella sticks (a special request from you). Your eyes betrayed you, straying from his face and down his body.

Shorts, an item you didn’t get to see quite often on him, but man, did he look good in them. A white t-shirt that clung to him just enough to drive you insane, his dog tags lying directly in the center of his chest. Overtop of that was his own personally designed Padres jersey, gifted to the entire team for Navy appreciation night at the ballpark, but unbuttoned in the front so that it lay at his sides…and, god, were you having thoughts about running your hand down his chest and over those abs you knew he was hiding-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced back up to meet Bob’s eyes and caught sight of the blush clearly embedded into his skin, and shot out of bed.

“Jesus, Bob, were they not going to help you at all?” you asked incredulously, taking two of the boxes from him as you tried to rid yourself of the inappropriate thoughts you were having of your best friend. He only laughed, shaking his head at your question.

“I mean, they at least took the beers,”

“Of course they did,” that comment got another laugh out of him. Easily, you joined in on the laughter, kicking his shin lightly. “Let’s go, dork, you know where the kitchen is.”

Like it usually was once a week, you and Natasha’s Southcrest apartment were overrun by the loud sounds of the men you called family, your squad, all gathered in the living room. This time, it wasn’t for game night or movie night, but instead in preparation for the San Diego Padres game later that afternoon, one the organization had personally invited your squadron to be recognized at for their Navy appreciation night at the ballpark. An opportunity to stand on the field during the pre-game festivities, the chance to watch Maverick throw the first pitch, lower-level seating on the third baseline, and your own custom Padres jerseys to wear to the game. A sweet deal, all around, that your squad was more than happy to accept.

“So, a baseball game,” Bob managed to speak, standing at your side in your tiny galley kitchen that two people could barely fit in. You were taking boxes from his hands, laying them out on the small bit of counter space you did have. “I-Is this a bad time to say…I’ve never been to a baseball game?”

“Never?” you questioned him, raising an eyebrow at him as you took the final pizza box from his arms. You couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know Montana doesn’t really have a team, unless you just root for the Rockies, but you never went during basic? Not a White Sox game, or a Cubs game?”

“Nope,” Bob accentuated his word with a little pop of his mouth, leaning back against the sink behind you while you squeezed past him, grabbing the plastic plates you and Nat had picked up for today the last time you went grocery shopping. “I’m relying on you to show me the ropes.”

“Depends what I have to work with here, baby-on-board,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him with a gleam in your eye as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “You know anything about the game at all, or did you really grow up under a rock?”

With everything laid out, you flipped around, leaning back against the counter behind you with Bob directly across from you. A mistake, in that tiny galley kitchen, the lack of space making the position feel more intimate than it needed to be. Bob’s legs seemed to instinctively spread slightly without a word, allowing you to stretch out your own between them.

“If you’re in the field, don’t let the other team score. If you’re hitting…score,” Bob smiled as you laughed at his explanation. “Pretty basic stuff, but I get the gist of it, Peony.”

“Yeah, it’s a very basic understanding of the fundementals, but I can work with it,” you assured him with a grin of your own, catching your eyes flicking down for just a moment to those dog tags resting against that white shirt that had no reason to look as hot as it did on him. “Should take you home with me sometime to a Rangers game, that’s where I really shine. And it's how I ended up with my callsign-”

“Your favorite flower,” Bob chimed in immediately before you could finish your sentence, your eyes catching on the way his Adam’s apple throbbed for just a moment after he said it, his eyes averting from yours and instead to the fridge, as it was the most interesting thing in the kitchen. “How Hangman started dragging you along to games, and you fell in love with the game. But then, every time you went together, they won, like you were the secret good luck charm of the team. And when he learned that peonies just happened to represent good luck…it all fell into place.”

You desperately tried to fight off your blush when he looked back at you. You and Jake had told that story about your callsign months ago, way back during the start of training for the Uranium mission. You didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that he remembered every detail of it, instead choosing to clear your throat with a very over-exaggerated nod.

“Yeah, see…you know the story. Promise you, though, Rangers games are a thousand times better. You’ll have to come home with me sometime, when we get time off,”

“Would…your family like me?”

Yeah, in your rant to Natasha and Jake, you’d forgotten to mention moments like this. He held the door, he bought you flowers, walked closest to the road on sidewalks, texted good morning and good night, and then sometimes he just…said things. Things that just came out of left field. Comments that felt like they were straddling the line of friendship and something more, too afraid to commit to one side or another fully, as if afraid to make the leap.

His eyes held something in them you couldn’t place; you could only describe it as uncertainty. Your eyes betrayed you once again, glancing at his lips where he was just barely biting into his bottom lip, before glancing back to those blue eyes you adored so much, hidden behind those glasses that were just so him that the thought of them kept you awake at night.

“Yeah. Too much, probably,” you settled on, though there was an unmistakable air of nervousness in your tone. The air in the entire kitchen had shifted with just a single sentence, the heaviness tangible, and you felt like you were going to suffocate looking into those piercing, soft blue eyes. “They’d probably never let you leave. You’d be stuck with us.”

“I-Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” your response came quickly, still laced with nerves, just as his was. But the whole time, neither of you looked away. “I’d choose you to be stuck with.”

He’d straightened slightly at that comment from you, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms in front of his chest, the jersey lying around his shoulders tightening around him at the movement. Your eyes watched, tracked every little movement as a pang of heat flashed through you at just the sight of the muscles strewn through his biceps and forearms stretching with the movement. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. You followed suit, then stopped yourself. An invisible line was still drawn in the sand between you both, no one quite sure enough to take the leap and talk about it all. To talk about the tension, or the heated stares, or even the softer looks exchanged when you both thought the other wasn’t looking.

“Hey, my two favorite brick walls! You two somehow making love in a 75 square foot kitchen against the fridge, or can we eat some pizza with these beers?”

If there was anything that could break a moment, it was Jake Seresin. His over-confident tone shouted out from the living room, and you could hear the unmistakable sound of Natasha hitting him and the rest of the squad laughing.

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Bob. He wordlessly passed you the paper plates you’d set down on the counter, avoiding your eyes, even as his fingers brushed yours for a moment longer than they needed to.

The moment might’ve been ruined, but the ‘what ifs’ still hung heavy in the air like they had been for months.

“Shut it, Seresin, before I call your mother! Come get food, you hooligans, I know what you’re all like hangry and I’m not in the mood for it today,”

With pizza and beer distributed around the group, everyone found themselves seated around the limited seating that you and Natasha had in your living room. Rooster and Coyote were already taking up two-thirds of the couch, Payback and Fanboy were fighting over the beanbag, Nat had taken her favorite spot on the floor in front of the coffee table, while Bob took his usual place on the loveseat. With a beer in hand and pizza loaded up on your plate, you made your way over to the last spot on the couch. Hangman, being his typical annoying self, practically vaulted over the backside of the couch, almost knocking Bradley’s beer out of his hand as he let out an indignant ‘hey!’ at the action.

The wink Jake gave you, and the laughter that Natasha tried to cover up, were enough to tell you that this was definitely planned.

Without even sparing a glance at Bob, you took a seat on the other end of the loveseat, as far away as you could given that little moment in the kitchen not long before. You ignored the wiggling eyebrows that Jake was sending your way as Rooster scrolled through the various streaming services on your living room TV, trying to find something to watch to fill the time.

“We’ve got time for one movie; my turn, since Javy picked last week on movie night,” there was a collective groan through the room at Bradley's choice, ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ simply because it was his usual choice during movie nights. “First pitch is at 4:10, but Mav told me they need us ready to go by 3:45 for the opening ceremony stuff. He said to meet him and Penny by the home plate gate, and someone from the home office would meet us out there.”

“I’ll take the ladies and Bob in the truck,” Jake threw in, with a sly wink sent your way. “The rest of you boys can ride with Rooster. Figured we could park in that garage off Tenth Ave since we wanted to hit up Tom’s Watch Bar after the game. Hope you ladies are cool with us crashing here tonight, because I’m not in the mood to drive home later.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure our landlord will love a noisy, drunk group of fighter pilots staying here,” you’d shot back at your best friend, garnering another round of laughter from the group. “Nat and I aren’t sharing our beds, and we’ve only got the one air mattress, so fight amongst yourselves for sleeping arrangements. Now start the damn movie before we run out of time.”

With how often Bradley chose Shawshank during his pick on movie nights, there was barely any watching of the movie actually occurring. Payback and Fanboy had taken to giving dramatic renditions of the dialogue in terrible accents, leading to laughter throughout the room for every second of the movie.

Barely half an hour in, with pizza and sides finished off, your phone buzzed. A notification that you were added to a new group chat called ‘Operation Peob’ was the last thing you were expecting to get.

At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Especially with Jake. He’d been this way since high school, always butting into anything that had to do with your love life and trying to give you a push, so his meddling here wasn’t surprising. Natasha’s willingness to help and agree with Hangman, of all things, had you thinking that maybe this pining had gone on for far too long.

You and Bob were close; you sat close plenty and had been in enough semi-intimate settings with one another. What could it really hurt?

Tearing your eyes away long enough to glance at Bob for just a moment, you swore you could see his eyes dart away from your legs crossed underneath you and back to his phone in his hand, but chalked it up to seeing something you wanted to see. What you could see was that blush coating his skin. So, with a small boost of confidence, and the knowledge that Nat and Jake were definitely watching with renewed interest out of the corners of their eyes, you swung your legs out from under you and draped them across Bob’s lap without a word, bringing your eyes back to the movie screen to ignore your own skin’s flush.

You weren’t the only people in the room, but god, in those few short moments afterward, did it feel like you were. The movie felt quieter, the laughter of your friends was drowned out, and the only thing you could force yourself to think about was the fact that your bare legs were resting over Bob’s own bare legs. How warm his skin was, how it felt against your own, and you let your mind wander to how you’d give anything to feel any other part of-

Then, Bob’s hands were on your legs.

Holy shit, Bob’s hands were on your legs. And you were frozen in place.

Gentle and yet firm all the same, it was clear just in his touch how big his hands truly were as they seemed to engulf your skin. One found its place just around your knee, skin warm to the touch and igniting a fire under his touch, and what you wouldn’t give for that hand to rest just barely higher above your knee and on your thigh. His other hand rested itself right around your calf, and there only seemed to be a moment of hesitation before his fingers began to knead little circles into your muscle that had you biting the inside of your lip to keep back a noise you’d never utter in the presence of your squad.

You’d spared a quick glance at Bob out of the corner of your eyes, but his gaze never moved from the TV screen. So, you’d averted your own gaze to the movie too, but not before catching yet another obnoxious wink from Hangman and an impressed look thrown your way from Natasha.

Even as the movie had ended, and everyone was putting their shoes back on and unplugging their phones from their chargers in order to head out the door to the game, neither you nor Bob brought it up. Not once as you’d gotten off the couch, or as he’d let you use his shoulder for leverage to slip your beat-up tennis shoes on, or even as he climbed into the backseat of Jake’s truck, taking your hand in his own to help you inside.

Even in that short, barely ten-minute ride to the stadium, that heat hadn’t left your skin, and those thoughts refused to purge themselves from your head. You could only hope the same thoughts and feelings were running through Bob as he kept his gaze focused on the San Diego streets out the window.

“How did we manage to beat Rooster here?” Hangman complained the second that his truck was parked on the third floor of the garage, popping his front seat forward so that Bob could exit, helping you out as well just as he helped you in. “We left at the same fucking time, it’s not that hard to get here.”

Your hand slipped from Bob’s with a grateful, albeit nervous, smile that he reciprocated the second your feet landed on the ground of the garage.

“We took National Ave, they probably took Ocean View and hit some traffic,” Natasha shot back, rounding the truck before setting her sights on you. “You have the sunblock, right? I don’t feel like being burnt to a crisp today.”

You tossed the bottle from the back of the truck over to Nat before it was passed around to all of you, though Hangman swore he ‘didn’t need any’ and that he’d just get even more tan in the sun. He lost that argument when you, once again, threatened to call his mother.

With Rooster arriving just moments later with Coyote, Fanboy and Payback packed into the Bronco, parking beside Jake’s truck, the Dagger Squad was on the move toward the stadium.

It was barely a walk to the stadium, your chosen parking garage not even a street away, as your group made it’s way down the sidewalk in the direction of the home plate entrance. You and Bob brought up the rear, and you were barely a few steps down the sidewalk before his hand found the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine, and easily switching places with you so that he walked along the edge closest to the road.

“Why do you always do that when we’re walking somewhere?” you ventured to ask him, bumping your shoulder lightly with his as you crossed one of the main roads heading toward the stadium. Bob shot you a soft smile as his hand found your back once more, guiding you slightly out of the way as a group of rowdy teenagers went barrelling past you all.

“Roads can be dangerous, just…don’t want you getting hurt is all,” was all the answer he offered, his hand finally leaving the small of your back after lingering for a moment longer than it needed to.

God, he really was a gentleman. That smile seemed to be etched perfectly into your face until your eyes glanced at your teammates in front of you, and the jerseys all bearing their last names hanging from their shoulders.

“Fuck,” Bob glanced over at you as you groaned, rubbing at your face. “I left my fucking jersey back at the apartment. Mav is going to kill me.”

Barely a second later, Bob’s jersey was bunched up in his hands as he presented it out toward you as you walked. Your eyes shot open as you looked at him, shaking your head, but his grin only widened.

“Take mine-”

“Bob, Mav specifically told us to wear our jerseys tonight, he’s going to be pissed at you if you don’t have yours on,”

“He’ll go easy on me, it’s fine,” he tried to assure you, lips quirking up slightly more into a smirk. “He’s still pissed about that argument you and Hangman had mid-flight the other day, he won’t go easy on you.”

Part of you wanted to argue, but there was something in the look in Bob’s eyes and the flutter it sent through your chest that had you taking the jersey from him without another word.

The first thought that ran through your mind was that it was bigger, much bigger than your own jersey that was still bunched up on your bed. You were trying desperately not to think about the fact that those biceps you found yourself distracted by almost every night you guys were at the Hard Deck, in civilian clothes or in your khaki uniforms, had been hugged by this fabric just moments prior.

The second thought was the smell; unmistakably his cologne. Bob never tended to wear a ton of it, but you’d been in close proximity enough to him to pick up on it over the last few months. Cypress, a woody smell that felt like the definition of lying in nature, surrounded by pine trees, and a hint of bayberry, another woody scent that brought a hint of sweetness to the smell.

The final thought that crossed your mind the second it was slipped over your shoulders completely was the fact that you were, quite literally, wearing his name on your back. When you’d turned to look at him again, breathless just from the idea, you swore you could see his pupils almost darken just a touch as he licked at his lips, his eyes flickering away from the back of the jersey and to your face again.

“Thanks,” you’d managed to speak as it felt like heat was coursing straight through your veins. Bob nodded, and you couldn’t help but notice the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Of course,” the lower tone to his voice had parts of your body that you were not willing to think about in public practically aching with the need to touch him. “It looks good on you.”

Bob could’ve meant the jersey looked good on you, or he could’ve meant the name ‘Floyd’ looked good on you, but boy, were you hoping he meant the latter. Unfortunately, you’d already made it to the home plate entrance without even realizing it, and Maverick didn’t look particularly happy with how long he’d been kept waiting while Penny chatted with the woman from the front office there to lead you through the ballpark.

“I said we needed to be on the field by 3:45, that didn’t mean show up at the gate at 3:40,” Maverick shot at the group, before his eyes found Bob hiding in the back next to you. “Bob…push-ups after the next round of training, I said everyone needed to wear their jerseys today. We’ll discuss how many later.”

The eyes of every single one of your friends seemed to shoot back to both of you. Judging by the smirks on everyone’s faces, they all knew for a fact that you hadn’t been wearing your jersey when you’d all left and Bob had been.

“It’s nice to see you’re all here!” the woman from the front office greeted them all, and you were mentally thanking her for saving you from an embarrassing confrontation with your team. “We’re on a time crunch now, so please quickly follow me so I can get you guys to the field before the opening ceremony begins…”

As you all followed her through the gates of the ballpark and down toward one of the sections that would allow you access to the field, Hangman fell back into step beside you and Bob for just a moment. He leaned in, lips barely grazing your ear so he could speak only to you.

“Step two was to somehow get you in his jersey, but you both beat me to it. At this rate, you’ll be fucking by the fourth inning-”

You attempted to land a punch to Jake’s shoulder, cheeks blaring red, but he’d dodged it with a laugh, falling back into step ahead of you with Natasha and Coyote. It took everything in you to avoid killing him, or looking at Bob, as you made your way through the crowd of Padres fans toward the field.

“So,” Bob chimed in after a moment, his hand catching onto your forearm lightly and tugging you to his side before an already drunk older man could spill his beer on you. “You ever been on a professional field before?”

“Once, back in high school,” you answered him, cheeks still burning as Bob’s hand didn’t leave your arm, keeping you at his side as you squeezed through the crowd of the sold-out, late afternoon game. “Globe Life Field, it’s where the Rangers play. We took a field trip, got to see behind the scenes, and take photos out on the field.”

“I assume there wasn’t a huge crowd of almost 40,000 when you were on the field, though,”

“Not in the slightest,” you laughed, glancing back over to Bob as he laughed with you, though you could hear the nerves in his voice. You raised your hand, placing it over his on your arm with a little squeeze of comfort. “Don’t worry, it’ll be just fine. We just have to stand, listen to ‘God Bless America,’ watch Mav hopefully not mess up the first pitch after the National Anthem, and then we can go enjoy the game.”

Your reassurance seemed to do the trick as you walked through the gate at the end of section 114 and onto the field. The woman who had walked you down was positioning you all in a line around home plate, telling you each where to stand, while entertaining whatever it was that Hangman seemed to be animatedly telling her. You watched as she seemed to think something over for a moment, her eyes flickering toward you, before it looked like she agreed with whatever Jake had said, getting a fist bump out of him.

When you met his eyes with raised eyebrows, he’d only sent you a wink and took his place in line beside you.

Though your squad had just barely made it to the field on time, things had gone off without a hitch. The stadium announcer had introduced your squad to the crowd for Navy Appreciation Night with thunderous applause from the sold-out stadium. The local man singing both ‘God Bless America’ and the National Anthem was perfect and got his own standing ovation. Maverick’s ceremonial first pitch…could’ve been better, given how far in the left-hander’s batters box it ended up. You were all thankful that Penny was standing off to the side to get it on video for blackmail at some point.

“Section 116, row D,” Maverick informed the entire group once everyone was off the field, crowded back near the concessions as the first pitch of the game was thrown, and the Padres versus Mets game was officially underway. “Penny and I will go find seats, one of you bring us back a nice tray of nachos!”

Nat was quickly swept up by Hangman, Rooster, and Coyote, dragged off in the direction of one of the local pizza shops that were set up within the park, while Payback and Fanboy darted in the direction of a local beer company not far from that pizza joint.

“Well, baby-on-board,” you teased, spinning around to stand in front of him with a grin. “Ready to have some real ballpark food?”

Bob laughed, hand once again finding the small of your back even though there was a much small amount of people littering the walkway now that the game was underway, and he set you down a grin that had you ready to kiss him on the spot.

“I’m ready for the full experience, flower,”

That’s how, barely a minute later, you had Bob over at one of the self-serve food stations as you loaded your arms with food. A giant tray of nachos with cheese for Mav and Penny, two footlong hot dogs for yourself and Bob, and two comically large waters balanced on top. Bob was laughing again, trying to hold you steady so you didn’t drop any of the food on the way over to the checkout area.

“The footlong hot dogs are a necessity at any ballpark you visit- don’t laugh at me!” more laughter bubbled out of you as Bob shook his head with a grin, taking items out of your arms and scanning them through the self-checkout. “I’m giving you the true baseball experience, including the over-priced food. Nachos are a staple, too, Mav has good taste. And we can’t forget the water, this San Diego sun is brutal.”

Bob picked up the small packet of peanuts still left in your hands, shaking it with a raised eyebrow in your direction.

“And peanuts?”

“Another ballpark classic…I also know how much you love them, you’re always eating them at the Hard Deck,”

He looked at you for another moment, his smile almost visibly softening, before he shook his head and turned back to the checkout in front of you both.

“God, you’re adorable,”

You weren’t sure Bob had meant to say that as loudly as he did, given the flush crawling up his neck directly after, but he had. And that simple statement had you frozen in place, just watching him as he paid for the food without a complaint. Even as you both moved to the condiment station, slathering ketchup and mustard over both of your hot dogs before gathering the supplies and heading toward your seats, that little comment had you almost on autopilot.

“Finally, you two missed the entire first inning!”

It was Bradley’s voice that finally shook you awake. It was true, the Mets had gone down easily in three batters, just as the Padres did, and the second inning was already well under way. With a fake laugh, you shot Bradley the middle finger that had everyone laughing, before passing the nachos off to Maverick and moving toward the final seats in your row for your team.

They’d shoved you and Bob off on the end of the row toward the middle, placing you right between Coyote and whatever random group had unfortunately been stuck beside you all.

“Okay, I feel like I have to see what’s so damn good about these things now,” Bob announced one you both were seated, leaning over to ‘clink’ his hot dog off the side of your own with a shared laugh with you. You held off on your own, simply watching him and the way his face contorted slightly after a single bite. “It’s…it’s not terrible, but I think I’ve had better just from Bradley on the grill. Not worth the price.”

“No, but you’re paying for the experience,” you reminded him with another giggle. Ketchup and mustard were plastered to the side of Bob’s face from that one bite alone as you grabbed one of the napkins from his lap, reaching up to wipe it away. “Game has barely started, and you’re making a mess of yourself, Floyd.”

It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you froze, realizing how intimate a position that simple action put you both in. Just barely a few inches away from one another, close enough that you could see the faint smudges on the lenses of his glasses and study the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Close enough to, once again, watch the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, to get a glimpse of that flush in his cheeks that never seemed to leave. Your throat went dry instantly, but you couldn’t look away. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and for once, you didn’t miss the way Bob’s eyes darted down to the action, lingering on your lips for a moment longer than needed, before finding your eyes again. It was hard to miss the way his pupils dilated the second they met your eyes again, or even the slight catch in your breath at that action.

“Hey! Didn’t Mav say something about acting professional today? Ballpark is no place to be eye-fucking each other, you two,”

If Hangman interrupted another moment with Bob today, you were personally going to bury him in the ground. His mother would forgive you; she loved you. Even so, you tore yourself away from Bob and the ruined moment, focusing on the game as you sent a blind middle finger down the row toward him as Mav lectured him about swearing with children around while the others laughed at the antics.

The game managed to go off without another comment from Hangman for a few innings. It was an evenly matched game, for the most part, both the Padres and Mets having some errors that led to runs that shouldn’t have been scored. At one point, on a blown-out call at second base, you jumped from your seat, screaming at the umpires just like many in the stadium were. When they’d finally set it off for review and corrected the call you returned yourself to your seat, shooting Bob a sheepish smile as he watched you in amusement.

“Sorry…grew up going to games with my dad, and with Jake. I get a little intense sometimes when they don’t call things right,”

Bob smiled and seemed to hesitate for just a moment before he stretched his arm over the back of your chair, his fingertips just barely brushing over your shoulder as he focused back on the game.

“It’s okay…it’s cute, seeing you all passionate,”

Bob Floyd was, once again, driving you insane. This time, you had no idea if he realized he was or not.

By the seventh inning stretch and a crowd performance of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’, your group had participated in three rounds of the wave, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy had gotten up and given a fantastic rendition of Sweet Caroline along with the crowd that had gotten them projected onto the scoreboard. And Bob? His arm never moved from it’s place, and every so often he’d lean over toward you to mutter a question about the game right into your ear.

“Wait,” he’d leaned over for another question, and you could feel his breath ghost over the shell of your ear. It was hard to tell if you were hot because of the sun or because of Bob’s proximity at this point. The seventh inning had just ended with an out on the Padres runner at first, and they were slowly transitioning over into the eighth inning. “Why did the Mets throw to first to get that runner out when there was a guy on second?”

Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the scoreboard in left field. It’s time for the Petco Park eighth inning…KISS CAM!

“It wasn’t a forced out,” you explained to Bob, ignoring the cheers of the crowd over whatever announcement had just been made as you pointed toward the field to explain. “Since there was only a runner on second, he’s not forced to move because there’s no one behind him. If they want to get him out, they have to tag him with their glove and the ball.”

“So why not do that?” Bob questioned, glancing away from you and toward the scoreboard as the crowd continued to go wild, and you continued to explain.

“It’s not a guarantee that they’ll get him. With only two innings left, plus the score being tied, you want to throw down the runner on first and give yourself the best chance of an out. You want to end that inning as soon as possible, and while the runner is already in scoring position at second base, his chances of scoring increase greatly if he reaches third base, and you give him a chance to do so if you don’t get that runner at first out-”

“U-Uh…Peony?”

You glanced at Bob as he interrupted your explanation, tilting your head quizically at him. He glanced back at you, eyes wide and jaw slack as he pointed to the scoreboard, and you finally followed his gaze.

The Kiss Cam, broadcasted right on the scoreboard for the entire park to see. And the camera? Centered directly on you and Bob.

In a rush, the cheering of the entire stadium came straight back to you as you and Bob sat frozen in your seats, just staring at the screen as the camera stayed locked on you both. You spared a glance down the line at your friends, you squad, and they were all on their feet cheering for you both. Even Maverick and Penny were cheering.

“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”

The entire stadium was cheering and chanting, and it didn’t look like the camera centered just a few rows down from you both was leaving anytime soon. At least, not without what it came for.

Slowly, you turned back to Bob, eyes still wide and words caught in your throat. He was still leaning in toward you, arm still on the back of your chair. But there was a smile on his lips; nervous, but with a faint hint of something else in the quirked edges. Something that felt a lot, in your head, like hope.

You? You were terrified, but knew that you had to make a split-second decision, one that could potentially change everything…for the better or worse.

But one more second looking at those gorgeous blue eyes, or at the way his tongue peeked out to just run over his bottom lip, had you mumbling ‘fuck it.’

Your hand wound around the back of his neck before you could stop yourself, tugging the handsome WSO closer and brushing your lips against his like you had dreamed of for months.

Even though the cheers around the stadium, practically from your friends, got louder in that moment, it was all drowned out in your own ears the second you had Bob Floyd’s lips on yours.

Gentle, polite, even a little unsure at first, was what that kiss felt like. Just the smallest touch, but the biggest leap over that blurry friendship-or-more line you’d been dancing along for so long. But the feeling, the softness of his lips, the leftover taste of vanilla chapstick, and the fluttering in your chest had your hand gripping his neck just the slightest bit harder, tugging him closer as your other hand grabbed onto the armrest between you both as if to keep you grounded. That seemed to be all Bob needed to respond in kind.

His hand left the chair behind you, curling around your shoulder to hold you as close as he could, given the awkward positioning the ballpark seats allowed. You swallowed the groan that left Bob’s lips almost involuntarily with your own mouth as his hand gripped your shoulder as tightly as it could for just a moment. While at once it was gentle and unsure, those insecurities were long gone. Bob’s lips moved against you clumsily, desperately, just trying to memorize the feel of your lips against his.

As quick as it had happened, it ended. The cheering stopped, the camera disappeared, and you and Bob pulled away from one another. A simple kiss, no more than five seconds, broadcasted for the entire stadium to see, but it had wrecked you. Inside and out, that mere moment had solidified that you were hopelessly in love with Bob Floyd, and there was no one else you’d rather be in love with. And, given the blown pupils, the heavy breathing, and the flush etched into Bob’s skin, you were praying it had solidified the same thing for him, too.

“And THAT, Dagger Squad, is how you finally get two brick walls of human beings to figure their shit out!”

You didn’t want to look away from Bob, not at all, even as the baseball game before you finally resumed play for the eighth inning. But you stole a glance behind you to Hangman as he leaned over everyone, ignoring his lecture about swearing from Maverick again, shooting you a wink as the rest of the squad looked toward you and Bob happily.

“The office worker, when you were talking to her earlier…did you plan the kiss cam?”

“I told you I had a foolproof plan for tonight, and it worked! Operation Peob can officially be labeled a success, in my eyes. At least, partially,”

“Operation Peob?”

Your attention was brought back to Bob as he asked that question, a dopey smile on his lips as his fingers kneaded into your shoulder comfortingly. You breathed out a laugh, hang sliding from his neck to rest over his chest, right on top of his dog tags like you’d thought about so many times before.

“Hangman’s terrible nickname for his plan to…get us together,” you dug your phone out, flashing him the groupchat from earlier as he let out a breathy laugh at the contents of the messages. “Nat was in on it, too.”

“Guess, she was playing double agent, then,” Bob dug his own phone out, opening another group message and flipping the phone toward you to read with a grin.

There was nothing you could do, nothing you needed to do, after seeing those messages besides laugh. Bob laughed with you, your forehead falling against his forearm as you both shook with laughter, the game behind you on the field long forgotten.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know for certain now, it’s that our friends suck at coming up with ship names,” you pointed toward his phone incredulously. “I don’t know what’s worse, Peob or Boney!”

“Boney is at least a word, I’d argue that Peob is worse. Given that Hangman came up with it, too, it makes sense,”

You laughed again, before finding yourself just completely lost in those blue eyes you’d fantasized about for so long. Bob was looking at you, too, as if lost in a daze where the only thing he could see was you. That dopey smile that refused to leave his lips was sending yet another flutter through your chest and heat to places that you didn’t need to be thinking about in public.

“So…how long?”

It was Bob’s turn to pause, thinking over your question. His arm moved from the back of your chair as your hand slid off his chest. His hand, though, only found a home right on the skin of your thigh, exactly where you’d wanted it to rest just hours ago. The feel of his skin on such a sensitive part of your body, the pressure of his grip into the muscle under his hand, had another bolt of heat shooting down your spine as your body leaned into his touch, practically begging to be touched by him.

“The first time we met, at the Hard Deck. Hangman was being a dick to me, as he so often can be, and you took his ego down with a single story from your middle school dance. I knew the second you did that…that I was utterly fucked. It only took Phoenix and Rooster a day to figure it out, too,”

If it were possible to love him more, you did in that moment. Your hand came to rest on top of his, squeezing it as the crowd cheered for the home run that had just been hit by Xander Bogaerts. Your entire attention was on Bob, though, just as his was on you.

“I realized it after the bird strike, even though I think I was already feeling something before that. To see you all scratched up, to not know if you were okay until we got to the hospital, and then the way I just broke down crying when I saw you…it was hard to ignore after that,”

Bob’s smile only widened, giving your leg an affectionate squeeze.

“We wasted a lot of time being too scared to do something about this, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you gave him a small nod, thumb tracing circles onto the back of his hand as he gave you another squeeze. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Well, at first, I was sure that you and Hangman were a thing,” he couldn’t contain his laughter as you let out a fake gag at the thought. “Trust me, after one day of training with you guys, I realized that was ridiculous. After that, we became friends, and…I got nervous. You made me nervous, like, beyond comprehension. Still do. I tried sometimes to make it obvious, with the flowers on your birthday or when I’d ask if you wanted to get dinner.”

“And to think, I was just complaining to Jake and Nat this morning that those little moments were driving me insane,” you laughed at yourself, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder as you let your eyes focus back on the ending of the game. “I was nervous, too, you know. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

There was silence between you both for a moment, just the cheers of the crowd around you, before Bob’s lips pressed to your hairline. In that moment, you were cursing yourself for not having said something sooner, for depriving yourself of being Bob Floyd’s for as long as you had.

“I’d wait again if it meant I got you in the end,”

Even in a crowded stadium, it was like you and Bob had found yourselves nestled into your own little world. As the game ended and the crowd dispersed to the streets, your group waiting until you were some of the last few to leave, you still stayed wrapped up in one another. Bob’s hand easily found yours as your fingers intertwined with one another on instinct, tying yourselves to each other as you moved with your friends out of the stadium. While the snide comments from the team thrown back your way had both of you blushing, neither of you dared to let go of one another.

The second you hit the streets outside of the stadium, fully able to observe the fast-setting sun, Hangman was leading the charge around the stadium in the direction of the bar he had mentioned hitting up after the game. He was met with no protests from the group, everyone wanting to celebrate the Padres' 8-6 win in the ninth, and also the ‘culmination of months of pining’ as they’d all glanced back toward you and Bob in the back of the group.

That’s where you both stayed in a comfortable silence with one another, simply watching your friends act like absolute psychos on the sidewalk in front of you. Bob placed himself closest to the road again without even asking, your hands never unlinking as they swung between you both.

“So, since we already kind of beared our souls to each other in those uncomfortable ballpark seats,” your smile only grew at the laugh Bob couldn’t help but let slip over your comment. “Where…does that leave us?”

He glanced over with that adorable smile, the one that was making you weak in the knees, and brought your hand up to his lips to leave a gentle kiss right to your skin.

If he wasn’t careful, you were going to get arrested for jumping his bones in the middle of the downtown sidewalk. Bystanders be damned, your need for this man was outweighing just about every single rational thought you had.

“This leaves us at me needing to take you out on a date like a proper gentleman, first,” was his response, letting your hands fall back down between you both. Your eyes didn’t leave the side of his stupidly handsome face, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to those late night thoughts that invaded your mind about him, or the way that white t-shirt looked entirely too good on him right now, or how you wanted to just grab him by the dog tags and tug him closer-

“Does being a proper gentleman mean you won’t fuck me before the first date, too?”

As your cheeks reddened, eyes quickly turning back to your friends ahead of you, you decided that you were going to blame Jake for that little outburst. How was it his fault? No idea, but you’d been blaming things on him since you were a child, so why not continue that trend into adulthood.

There was a yank on your hand, your body spinning until it collided with Bob, who had stopped right in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk. It didn’t take a second for your eyes to meet his, and you swore you could feel your knees wobble just at the look in his eyes: pupils blown and a heat dancing through them. He looked as if he wanted to devour you here, in the middle of the sidewalk, and the feeling was mutual. His large hand slid around your waist to your lower back, dipping under his jersey and barely pulling your tank top up so that his hand could rest against your bare skin. You knew in that moment that you must look absolutely wrecked.

“Yeah, a proper gentleman would at least buy you dinner first,” his tone had dropped incredibly low, a sound that nearly stopped your heart, and his grip right on your hip tightened. “But my patience is wearing a bit thin, especially when you’ve got my name sprawled across your back.”

“Well,” with your hands lying against his chest, you allowed your fingers to curl around his dog tags just like you’d thought about so many times today, tugging him toward you with a smirk on your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing my patience is wearing thin, too.”

Bob’s smile quirked up as he leaned in, just as you leaned up to him- until two arms wrapped around your waist and practically tore you from Bob’s arms, landing you over a broad shoulder with a yelp.

“Baby-On-Board, Peony! I expected more from you two!” Seresin. Of course fucking Jake Seresin had to ruin everything again, holding you over his shoulder like a scolded child as he let out a ‘tsk.’ “Public displays of affection can make people very uncomfortable!”

“Jake, you’re going to be lucky if you ever step foot in an F-18 again when I’m done with you,” there was murderous intent in your tone as he turned on his heel, continuing the walk toward the bar with a laughing Penny, Mav, Coyote, and Payback surrounding you both. You hit him once on the back with your fist, not that it did anything to him, before speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the one who was bitching at me to get laid!”

“Not in the middle of the damn sidewalk, though, little flower,”

“I wasn’t going to fuck him on Park Boulevard, but damn, at least let me kiss him! This is what you wanted!”

“Step one was the legs, step two was the jersey, step three was the kiss cam, and now welcome to step four: more tension. Have some faith in me, and our little baby-on-board is going to be begging to fuck you before you’ve even had a drink,”

You grumbled something along the lines of ‘castrating’ him before accepting that he wasn’t going to put you down anytime soon, at least not until you got to the bar. Resting your chin against your hand popped against Jake’s shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Bob. Rooster was at his side, arm slung around his shoulder as he muttered something that had a blush coating your WSO’s cheeks, Phoenix and Fanboy laughing beside him. When Nat met your eyes, a smirk crawled across her own face.

“Comfortable up there, Peony?”

“Just peachy, Nat. Trying to calculate how hard I have to swing my leg in this position to take away Jake’s ability to breed,”

With more laughter from the group, your eyes found Bob’s, and he was already looking at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen that had your heart racing like it always did around him. Annoying friends or not, as long as he kept looking at you like that, you’d put up with it all.

By the time Hangman had trekked all the way around the stadium and across Gallagher Square to the sports bar he wanted to visit, the sun had set. The inside was already packed from what you could gather through the windows as Jake finally set you back down on your feet.

“We’ll go get a tab started,” Coyote announced, most of the group following in after him. Jake nodded in his direction, holding the door open for your group as he glanced down at you with a smirk. Your glare hadn’t softened at all toward your best friend.

“You ever pull that shit again, and I will tell the story about how you fell off your horse when you were eight,”

“Damn, pulling out the deep cuts,” his tone was indifferent, the cocky bastard just choosing to shoot you a smirk and a wink as he stepped inside the bar door as well. “It’s packed in here, go see if there’s some outdoor seating.”

Yeah right, like you gave a shit what Jake wanted at that point.

An arm snaked it’s way around your waist, hand resting against your stomach as a pair of lips you were slowly growing accustomed to the feeling of pressed to the side of your head. You didn’t hesitate to lean back against Bob, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as he smirked down at you.

“Enjoy your ride?”

You huffed, elbowing him lightly with no malice what-so-ever.

“No, especially when there’s another man I’d rather ride,”

Even as your cheeks flushed at your own confident statement, you didn’t look away from Bob, giving you a full view of the way his eyes darkened at the comment. He glanced to the bar entrance, before behind you both, before his hand wrapped itself around yours and tugged.

“Come on,”

The bar did have an outdoor patio, but given the raging humidity still in the San Diego air as night time set in, everyone at the bar had opted to sit inside with the air conditioning. Bob wasn’t stopping at the patio, though, guiding you around the bar tables and out past the patio to the secluded section behind the bar, hidden from the main walkways with trees blocking the view in from Gallagher Square.

Nervous giggles left you in those moments once you were well and truly along, just barely illuminated by the string lights hanging on the patio just a few feet away. Those giggles ceased, your breath catching, as Bob stalked toward you as if he was the hunter and you were the prey, backing you up until your back was flush with the brick wall of the building covered in darkness.

Then, he was on you.

It’s hot, its messy–its the kiss of two people who have been starving to get their hands on one another for months. You practically unravel, putty in Bob Floyd’s hands, those same hands that are caressing up your bare thighs and to your waist then back down once again, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your fingers were threaded through hsi sandy blonde hair, tugging at the strands with every movement of his lips against yours and every swipe of his tongue just along the edge of your own, leaving his taste lingering in your mouth as you craved more.

One of his hands trailed down the back of your left thigh, gripping into the flesh and tugging it up around his waist, holding it there as he ground his hips toward your core as a breathless moan tumbled from your lips.

“I-In the interest of, uh–oh god–of putting it all out there,” you barely managed to get your words out, fingers tightening their grip in Bob’s hair as his lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, nipping just enough at the skin that there were sure to be little marks left in the morning. “You…you realize I’m hopelessly in love with you, right?”

“I hope so, because I-I’m in love with you, too,” breathy, wrecked Bob Floyd was testing every ounce of your patience left, his words ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your skin once more, accentuating it with another roll of his hips. “If we’re being completely honest, then…can I say something?”

“As long as you don’t stop touching me,”

His laughter vibrated against your skin, his lips trailing back up your neck until they hovered right in front of your own, giving you the perfect view of his lust blown gaze. If you even had breath left to catch, it did, as the hand on your waist moved to the front of your jean shorts, fingers just barely dipping past the waistline and ghosting over the skin of your lower stomach.

“These shorts,” he snapped them back against your skin, the other hand still holding your thigh tight around his waist squeezing tightly for just a moment. “Have been killing me for hours. The legs on my lap? Nice play by Hangman, I’ll admit. You’ve been driving me insane for hours.”

“You think seeing those biceps and forearms in this t-shirt hasn’t been driving me insane?” your gaze flickered to said shirt and dog tags before returning to his eyes. “But…just hours?”

“No, for months,” he was quick to counter, leaning in an stealing another bruising kiss from you, barley pulling back so that his lips still brushed yours as he spoke. “When it’s hot out on the tarmac and you unzip your flight suit, and I can see the sweat dripping down your chest. Today, wearing my name on your back like it’s your own. But the one that never leaves me…when we all went up to the the Mission Beach Boardwalk. You wore that little maroon sundress, the one that barely comes to your knees. And I don’t know why, maybe you wanted to kill me o-or maybe it was one of Hangman and Phoenix’s stupid plans, but you didn’t wear bike shorts that day. You bent over to look at something in one of the shops, and I saw them clear as day: pink, lacy, covered in flowers, and barely covering an inch of your skin. I haven’t stopped thinking about them since.”

Desire coursed through every inch of you at his words, at the memory of that day. To know that Bob really did think of you in the same depraved way that you did him only had your want–your need–for him increasing tenfold.

The ghost of a smirk crossed your lips as one of your hands left his hair. He watched it as your fingers trailed over his shoulders, down his bicep as your nails dug into the skin just slightly, down his forearm as your nails traced his veins, before settling over the hand still gripping to your shorts. Hooking a finger around his, you dipped it fully below the waistline of your jeans as you heard his breath catch, looping it around the edge of your panties and tugging them upwards until they were just barely visible: pink, lacy, and covered in flowers.

“It’s a matching set,” you whispered in a sultry tone, his eyes finally finding their way back to yours with a newfound heat in them, and you swore you could see a thin layer of fog overtake the lenses of his glasses. Leaning in just barely, you caught his lower lip between your teeth, biting just barely enough for a groan to elicit from somewhere deep in his chest, another shot of heat going straight to your core, espeically as his hips once against ground forward as if they had a mind of their own, and there was no mistaking the size of the rigid bulge pressing against you now. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Floyd.”

“It will be when you’re finally under me,”

“You’ve got me pressed up against a wall,” you managed to joke breathlessly, hand finding it’s way back up to his hair. His fingers stayed dipped past the waistline of your shorts, slowly finding their way around to the back, his whole hand almost dipping lower now as the heat of his hand spread out across your entire ass, squeezing just hard enough for you to stutter out another gasp against his lips. You felt his lips curl into a smirk at the sound. “I-Isn’t that good enough?”

“Baby, I’m not fucking you against a wall with our Captain probably thirty feet away. No, when I finally get to fuck you, I’m taking my time until you’re ruined,”

Yeah, fuck anyone on this team that joked that Bob Floyd must have been vanilla in bed, or that he’d be awkward and stutter his way through any sexual encounter. He had you willing to put your entire career on the line for a misdemeanor just to finally feel him like you did in your dreams.

“Damn…I leave you two alone for ten minutes and baby-on-board looks like he’s two seconds from whipping it out,”

Jake Seresin was a dead man. Worse than a dead man, not that you even knew what could be worse, but the second you could get your hands on him you were going to strangle him. Or beat him. Or hold a pillow over his face until he finally stopped breathing and you never had to hear hid stupid voice again.

Your head fell to Bob’s shoulder, hands still wound in his hair and refusing to leave. He let out a soft, but you could tell embarrassed, chuckle against the side of your head, the hand on your ass slipping back to your waist, his other hand finally letting your leg drop back to the ground.

“Something you need, Bagman?”

“Was just seeing if my hunch was right and you two wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off one another,” you tilted your head against Bob’s shoulder in order to fully look at your best friend, your death glare doing nothing to deter his smirk and wink. “As usual, I was right, given that you were well on your way to a misdemeanor. I think you two should be thanking me, this is all thanks to my brilliant foolproof plan for the day-”

“Seresin, I know you like hearing yourself talk, but if you interrupt me one more time I’m going to ride Bob right in front of you just to make sure you’re scarred for life,”

It was Bob’s turn to laugh, squeezing your waist gently with another kiss to the side of your head. Jake’s smirk only widened as he took his hand out of his pants pocket, tossing something in your direction. You let one of your hands leave Bob’s hair to catch what he’d thrown, both you and Bob looking down at your hand: Jake’s truck keys.

“No scratches, that’s all I ask. And no sex in the truck,” Jake sent another wink in your direction, shuffling backward toward where he’d come from. “Rooster is designated driver, Phoenix and I will just squeeze in with them. I’m sure I can keep them busy here for three…maybe four hours, if that’s enough time for you jackrabbits to get rounds 1 through 5 out of your systems. Just wrap it, please, I don’t feel like calling your mom and informing her that you’re pregnant anytime soon.”

You and Bob could only stare at the place in which Jake had just been standing for a moment in shock, trying to process what had just occurred. Then, you laughed, spinning the keys around in your hand.

“He’s a dick, but I guess he’s a good wingman…at least on the ground. Remind me to thank him-”

Bob’s hand was on your chin, tugging your face back to him as his lips moved headily against yours, swallowing the moan you didn’t even try to suppress as that bulge nudged against your thighs once more. Lust, love, adoration, need, it was all prevalent in the heated kiss as Bob pulled away, hot breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank him later. I’ve waited long enough to fuck you, flower,”

1K notes · View notes

vamplvs · 21 days ago

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I WANT SOMEONE BADLY

INCLUDES -> bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader WARNINGS -> jealousy, pining, alcohol, bradley is an idiot (lovingly) WORD COUNT -> 4.7k SUMMARY -> bradley has long since been the designated performer for the daggers, and that's no different when he's jealous, pining, and well past tipsy.

NOTES -> i've been sitting on this for so long but here she finally is <3 it's a little corny, and a little trope-y, but i had a blast writing it. the songs are "layla" by derek & the dominos and "i want someone badly" by jeff buckley! originally the first song was going to be "slow hand" by the pointer sisters if anyone wants to give that one a listen, too. as always: comments & rbs are much appreciated, and my asks are open!

it's been a year now since the mission from hell, and everyone is scattered across the continent. hangman and coyote are stationed out in the midwest, bob and phoenix are in south carolina, and everyone else has found a new crew.

you and bradley have been lucky enough to stay stationed in san diego. bradley, of course, is still flying with the navy, while you spend your days teaching at top gun. safe to say, the two of you have stayed close between the occasional movie night, brunches with mav, and beach days—when you have a day off anyways. when you don't, bradley finds a way to visit you at top gun despite it.

it isn't easy to coordinate yearly leave among the rest of the crew, but when they finally manage it during the dead of summer, the hard deck is already full of life. people crowd around the bar and the tables, chatting and laughing over the music.

bradley catches the wide grins on mav and penny's faces when they see the daggers walking in, ready to wreak havoc. their smiles only grow wider when the group pulls mav into a group hug, bradley leading the charge.

it's the first time in a long time that they're all in the same place at the same time, and hell if it isn't making people nostalgic. there's some classic rock song from mav's old piloting days ringing through the jukebox. hangman has, predictably, started up a betting pool around the billiards table, dragging mickey, javy, and a reluctant bob with him. the others hover in their own circles, leaving you, natasha, and bradley to catch up at one of the high tops.

it's been exciting talking to her again after so many months have passed. she and bob have been stationed out in south carolina, and it comes with story after story about the antics that the two of them get up to—well, more like the ones natasha pulls bob into.

by the time you decide to get more drinks for the three of you, your stomach is aching from laughter.

bradley just watches as you wander up to the bar. he takes in the sway of your hips, your easy confidence, all of it.

"still haven't done anything about that, then?" natasha asks, leveling a deeply accusatory look at him.

"about what?"

"rooster, you can't be serious." when he looks at her incredulously, she bursts into laughter. "oh, come on, you two have been dancing around each other for a year now! we all see it."

his ears go pink. "that's not-"

"oh, don't you deny it. i have eyes."

"i am serious!" bradley is sure you have no interest. it's been a year—more than that if you include your time at top gun together and a few sparse meetings between that and the big reunion last year—and he's been quietly pining all the while. if there was even a chance with you, he would have taken it by now.

"whatever you say," she replies, her head turning to you.

and when bradley follows suit, he sees you standing all-too close to a man at the bar. he's tall, classically handsome—all in all, the kind of guy you'd expect to see in a rom-com—and he stands so close that his arm is nearly brushing yours. you laugh and smile at something he says, and the hand he puts on your arm sends a chill through bradley. it sinks like a pit in his stomach, churning through the several beers he's had and their subsequent buzz.

the chill turns into a sickening haze when he sees the man pass you a napkin that surely has his number on it.

"told you so," bradley mutters, turning away to face the game of eight-ball that jake is still running. the clattering of the balls and the cheers are more than enough to drown out the pulse roaring in his ears.

he entirely misses your polite rejection, the way you nod your head back to the team, and the hop in your step when you finally turn to bring the drinks back.

"ugh, sorry i took so long. poor penny is still teaching mav to make cocktails," you say with a laugh when you return. you hand them their beers with little ceremony, before following bradley's eye line. "bagman still running the betting pool?"

"you know it," bradley replies, keeping his eyes locked ahead of him. the thought of seeing that man's number in your hand makes his palms sweat.

"you'd think he'd learn that bob kicks his ass every time." that makes bradley and natasha laugh. "his entire job is aiming a laser at a tiny pinprick, pool is no big deal."

"and yet, he insists on betting against him," nat sighs.

the night continues with more drinks, more pool, and more stories from their deployments. jake tells some story about his greatest exploits—which javy quickly interrupts by informing the entire team just how spectacularly jake fumbled only a week later. the team laughs, and it's back to business as usual.

eventually, javy and jake push bradley to the piano, insisting he play something good—citing the first time they were all at the hard deck together. nostalgia is one hell of a drug after a few beers. he warms up, hammering down a few notes and a glissando into an opening chord.

the bar's attention is caught on him and the piano. a handful of older couples immediately recognize the song, standing to dance—which would include penny and mav if they weren't manning the bar. but they sway to the song, mav against penny's back with his arms around her waist. he whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh.

"what'll you do when you get lonely and nobody's waiting by your side?"

your eyes are stuck on bradley, too. his glasses sit comfortably on the end of his nose, his standard patterned button up is open, and he bleeds a confidence so easy that it's impossible to take your eyes off him. he looks good doing what he loves, and he knows it. and maybe there's some self-satisfied part of him deep down that's pleased to see how he's stolen you're attention.

"you've been running and hiding much too long you know it's just your foolish pride."

as he ramps up to the chorus, the bar is ready to sing along with him. "layla," they all cheer, you included.

"you've got me on my knees"

his eyes drift over to yours for just a fraction of a second, his wide grin splitting even wider before he flits his gaze away to where natasha, bob, and mickey are all shouting the lyrics. well, natasha and mickey shout the lyrics at bob, while he sort of mumbles them quietly, embarrassed by the attention.

it's only a few minutes of bradley performing, but with the pressure of your eyes on him, it feels like an eternity. he's not sure he's ever been more aware of who he's looking at when he sings. there's a woman who has sidled up to the piano, singing every lyric with tequila on her breath, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes at her and find yours in the crowd.

he finishes the song with one final, dramatic chord, and the bar erupts into cheers. his eyes lock onto yours and you tip your drink toward him like a salute, whooping along with the rest of the bar. you gesture to the space next to him with a raised brow, and he turns to see the same woman from before leaning against the piano with a nearly empty cocktail glass in her hand.

she introduces herself, but bradley's mind is elsewhere. his eyes scan the space you were just in to find you gone. were you really playing wingman just now? the woman is saying something about his hands, but bradley can't care less, not with your apparent disappearing act. he excuses himself politely, ignoring her pout and the way her friends urge her to find another guy to hit on.

people are packed tightly around him, patting him on the back and clapping for him. he smiles politely in return. the longer he searches for you the more concerned he gets. you aren't by the bar or with the rest of the team by the pool table. hell, he doesn't even find you by the jukebox despite the ever changing cycle of music it goes through.

when he finally takes a step outside, he sees you sitting at the stairs leading down to the beach. it's a lot quieter outside, with the chaos and noise of the hard deck trapped within its walls. you're mindlessly twirling your drink in your glass.

"nice playing in there," you say with a glance over your shoulder.

"thanks," he says simply, taking a seat next to you. his glasses hang from the neckline of his old, white tank. the silence between you is thick, and right when he's going to break it by saying something that'll probably be stupid, you interrupt.

"no luck with that girl?" bradley is taken aback.

"what?" your eyes stay focused on the beach in front of you. the crash of every wave is steady and familiar.

"she spent the entire song singing at you, rooster," you tap your shoulder against his in what's supposed to be a playful gesture, but it falls flat.

"oh, yeah," he responds dumbly, "dunno, she's not really my type." he nearly winces as he hears himself say it.

you fall silent again, and bradley joins you in it. it's not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it's heavy. there's so much more he wants to say. that she's not his type because you are, because he's spent a year looking into your eyes, laughing at your jokes, going warm when your hands touch him. that he's spent a year wishing he could say something to you without messing what you have up.

it took ages for you two to get to where you are with the easy banter and the quiet movie nights. the two of you have spent long enough laughing about your almost-rivalry back in your top gun days that he knows you care about this friendship just as much as he does. and the last thing he wants to do is lose that by running his mouth.

"i should get going," you say. "i have to prep for next week's classes."

bradley watches as you leave for a second time that night, mumbling a quiet goodbye after you.

on leave, the team spends time exploring san diego again. they go to wine and beer tastings, try new cafes and restaurants, and even find the time to hike through the torrey pines natural reserve—that one is bob's request, and boy, does it deliver. it has the entire team winded by the end of it—except, miraculously, for bob, who brought a camera to take pictures with.

but bradley's favorite, of course, is the afternoon they spend at the beach in front of the hard deck. dogfight football is up and running the minute people put their bags down. jake just can’t resist the urge to goad people on, so bradley gets wrapped up in the competition, too. initially, it's shirts versus skins, but with the hot san diego sun beating down, everyone is stripped to their trunks pretty quickly, not that it does much to dissuade the heat from tearing through them.

all the while, you're trapped at top gun teaching classes until later in the day. bradley's not even sure you'll be able to make it with the way things have been going with the new class of pilots. so, he puts you out of his mind, focusing on the game at hand—and how badly he wants to knock jake down on his ass just to teach him a lesson about talking shit.

when penny brings out lemonade for everyone, the sun is still bright overhead and unbearably hot. bradley's skin is sticky with sweat, and he holds the icy glass to his cheek with a sigh. sitting on his towel with the drink in his hand is easily the best decision he’s made all day. natasha takes no time in jogging over to him with a smug grin.

"saw you chase the love of your life outside after layla the other night," she sips on her lemonade like it proves something.

"she's not the love of my life-"

"oh, yeah? then why do you follow her around like a lost puppy?" he doesn't have a response for that and clears his throat, trying to pretend that his ears aren't burning. "she totally dug it."

"nat, she tried to set me up with another girl. i got wing-manned." the memory of your raised eyebrow and the way you asked if he had any luck with her make his stomach churn.

natasha snorts. "oh, please, if she was actually wing-manning you, she wouldn't have run outside to avoid the aftermath." bradley tries to formulate some kind of intelligent response, but gets cut off by natasha perking up. "speak of the devil!"

bradley turns to see you walking over with your towel in hand. he tries not to stare, god, he tries. but you're wearing a button up you borrowed from him months ago, and it's open over your bathing suit. there's something about that and the shorts you're wearing that makes the blush spread from his ears to his cheeks and down his neck. you look unfairly good in his clothes.

"all good things i hope!" you reply with a smile so bright bradley swears you've stolen the sun for yourself. natasha is quick to pull you into a hug—one that you're ready to reciprocate.

"rooster was just telling me how much he misses you," she nudges him, and he has to fight the urge to strangle natasha.

"it's only been a week, bradshaw, missing me that bad already?" you toss down your beach towel and sit next to him, still laughing at her words.

he tries to play it off with a shrug. "what can i say? i've been spoiled." natasha gives you a cryptic look that he can't decipher. as a matter of fact, he doesn't even get the chance to try before jake is calling everyone to the shoreline for a rematch. half the beach groans, complaining about the heat, and the other half start up their goading once more.

“c’mon, rooster, afraid of getting your ass handed to you?” jake calls, tossing the football in the air in a way so cocky only he could manage it.

you laugh when natasha drags him over to jake, already placing a pair of sunglasses over your eyes to sit and watch from afar. he shrugs apologetically at you. "get his ass, bradshaw!" you cheer.

the game only officially ends when the sun starts to set. it's been on and off for the rest of the afternoon, with people taking breaks to swim and cool off throughout. somehow, you and bradley never quite end up in the same place at the same time. it isn't until everyone is packed back into the hard deck that you get the chance to talk properly.

the two of you sit at a high top by the end of the pool table, drinks in hand once more as the team's usual chaos unfolds around you. it’s like a do-over of the week before: the betting pool going strong around the billiards table, the same old rock songs playing through the jukebox, and you and bradley tucked into a corner of your own.

"i thought you said you weren't going to make it today," he prompts, looking at you over his beer.

"that was before the admiral interrupted with some group punishment for breaking the hard deck," you say with a laugh.

"oh, you've got a maverick, then?" he nods his head over to where mav is desperately trying to wipe down a spill on the bar top that he no doubt caused.

"something like that," you reply, "there's always some kind of rivalry at top gun, but these two..." bradley laughs at your grimace.

"no worse than us, i hope." he taps his bottle against your glass in a mock toast.

"bradley, they are so much worse." he watches you launch into some story about your students, your smile echoed on his face.

and so conversation flows along with the drinks, the two of you wrapped up in your own world until jake—being the bastard he is—interrupts to drag bradley away to the billiards table. for a second time that day, bradley is pulled away from you against his will.

he is going to tear jake to shreds for this, beers be damned.

he relishes in your cheers whenever he knocks the stripes into the pockets. until your attention is taken from him, that is.

somehow, between his turn and the next, the same man from the weekend before has found his way to the table bradley left you at. he's taken up bradley's seat and is apparently content to just chat you up without any care for the rest of the crew observing this newcomer to their night out. even bob is prickling at his presence.

and if bradley breaks when the next game starts with a little more force than strictly necessary, no one says anything about it. if he plays a little harder, if he's a little snappier, every time he looks over and that man is closer to you, then quite frankly, it isn't anyone's business but his.

he drops his cue on the table and marches off to get another drink when he sees you lean in to hear the guy better. he hears jake call after him, but he pays him no heed. god, he needs another beer if he's going to put up with this tonight, too.

mav gets bradley a drink with a raised eyebrow. "trouble with the girl?" mav asks, nodding over to where you're sitting.

"how'd you-"

"bradley, i've known you since you were a kid," he responds like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "just say something."

"it's not that simple, mav, she's..." bradley trails off. perfect? is that what he means? unattainable? uninterested? he takes a long swig from his beer, a comfortable buzz settling in his chest. whether that's the beer or the thought of you, he's not sure.

"if you want to keep pining, that's on you." mav shrugs. "but take it from me, doing something about it is better than nothing."

"now you're playing wingman?" mav scoffs at that, but it doesn't have any heat.

"i'm trying to play dad, but whatever works for you, kid."

bradley goes quiet and lets mav get to the other patrons asking for drinks—which he is almost certainly going to ask penny for help with. he watches as they dance around each other gracefully, like despite mav's inexperience behind a bar, he knows exactly where penny's going to move. he watches the gentle hand that mav puts on her waist, and christ, he's in deep. all he can think about is you.

he thinks back to that movie night you had a few months ago. the two of you maneuvered around your small kitchen making popcorn and hot chocolate. he had pulled the same stunt—a hand on your waist to guide you out of his way. a hand that you hadn't pulled away from. he remembers the warmth of you next to him and your smile when you finally got to curl up on the couch with a warm mug and an oversized bowl of popcorn between you.

he thinks about the brunches you've had with mav and penny, and how they almost felt like dates. you had made a joke about getting introduced to the parents so soon, and the tips of bradley's ears had gone warm. if he were introducing you as his girlfriend, it would have gone spectacularly. you hit it off with mav immediately, somehow. even though you technically had met him before at top gun, there was a difference between captain pete “maverick” mitchell and mav, the closest thing bradley has to a father—even if he’d never outright say it to mav’s face. but getting that man friendly outside of a plane-related situation was a feat he could have kissed you for.

he thinks to last week. the grin on your face when he looked at you while he was playing, while he sang at you—no, sang to you.

and that's precisely where the too-loud, too-tipsy, only slightly jealous part of bradley's mind kicks straight into overdrive. he slams back the rest of his beer and takes a glance over his shoulder to where you're sitting. the man still sits across from you, but like you sense him looking, your eyes meet his with a concerned furrow to your brow. he's not sure how long he's been standing at the bar, but based on the look you give him, it's been long enough.

he turns and marches over to the jukebox, unplugging it unceremoniously. the bar lurches into a chorus of groans until bradley takes a seat at the piano.

"now i-" he starts, his voice ringing into the near silent bar.

"i want someone badly"

the first chord he strikes on the piano summons a round of whoops from the pool table.

"got a girl here tonight, want someone new"

he pretends not to notice the way your attention is focused on him again, pretends that the heat on his face is from beer and beer alone. his head is down, intent on staring holes into the piano keys. couples around the bar are starting to sway together, and he dreads the thought of you getting up with the guy you've found. he's sure that the man is offering you a hand right about now, that you'll take it, and bradley will have to walk off to drown his wounds with another drink.

"'cause i, i cry all over madly don't do anything, do it for me."

the daggers have found themselves by the piano, arms thrown over shoulders and swaying. they sing along and it's a small comfort in a sea of strangers. he hears natasha's voice above all, singing the lyrics with a passion that she always carries with her when he does this.

"i wanna know am i sure that i have your love?"

and that's when bradley figures it's a good idea to look out into the crowd that's around him. it's cruel how easily he can find your eyes amongst the throng. you stand a ways away from him, alone and glowing under the warm lights of the hard deck. your mouth is slightly parted, but he can't figure out if its shock or something else. and then there's that look in your eye. he'd almost believe you're in love with him.

or maybe bradley's just drunk.

"if you're leaving, just make sure it's right now i want someone badly"

the crowd cheers when he hits a high note, but his eyes are locked on the way your jaw clamps shut.

"could it be true that someone is you?"

the final chord rings out along with varied forms of praise from those around him. natasha asks him a question, but he's already on his way outside before he can hear it properly. adrenaline is crackling through him viciously, bringing a shake to his hand that he hasn't felt since he first started training in the flight sims.

he sits on the steps of the hard deck with a thud. the porch is blessedly empty, leaving him to process exactly what he just did. the cool ocean breeze is doing wonders to sober him up. or maybe that's the dread pooling in his stomach. he can't tell anymore.

did he seriously just fucking serenade you? what kind of rom-com bullshit-

"you um, you played really well in there." your voice, gentle and soothing, pulls him from his spiral, and his head whips around to face you.

"thanks," he replies shortly, and his tone makes himself wince. there’s a distinct sense of deja-vu that hits bradley suddenly, like he’s entered some fucked up kind of parallel universe. the two of you stand awkwardly on opposite ends of the deck. your hands fidget, and tomorrow, bradley will surely blame the beers on the way his eyes linger on them.

it takes you another moment to move toward him, taking a seat by his side. you're so close that he can smell your perfume over the breeze, and isn't that just the cruelest trick yet? that he can't reach over to you and kiss you breathless, that he can't hold your hand in his. instead, he just sits miserably next to you, reliving his own stupid idea to play jeff buckley in the hard deck.

man, if he's thinking like this, he must really be gone.

"was that-" your voice cracks, "nat said i should come out and talk to you."

"of course she did." he picks at the corners of his nails.

"she said that was for me." your voice is indecipherable, and bradley's not sure he can stomach looking you in the eye right now.

he sighs, running a hand down his face. it's too hot out, now. the cool breeze from before has been sucked away by your presence.

"i just didn't want to see you with him, anymore," he mutters. there's another horrible, tense silence between you, and it's not one that he's in any rush to break.

"was that what this was? jealousy?" your voice is impossibly small.

"no, i-" jealousy made it sound like he had any kind of claim over you. jealousy sounded like he thought he had a chance at keeping the careful balance of his sanity and your friendship.

"so you sing that for all the girls in there, then?" you press, and in a world where he isn't head over heels for you, it would have been infuriating.

it still is infuriating, and bradley can't help but laugh.

"no, god, no." his laugh is shaky and a little dejected. he finally turns to face you, trying his damnedest to suck in every anxiety he has about this. he thinks, quite possibly, that this is the only time tonight he's been grateful for the alcohol.

that same heavy silence fills the air between you.

your eyes are wide when he looks at you, filled with something unreadable and maybe a bit of hope. his eyes flit between yours, and maybe, just for a moment, they linger on how your lips are upturned ever so slightly.

"just kiss me already, bradley."

and he does. by god, he does, and it's like a breath of fresh air. your lips are soft against his, and if it's a little clumsy, he doesn't mind. not when his hand is on your cheek, and yours is in his hair, and you taste like heaven on earth. the kiss lasts a lifetime, or it feels that way to bradley, anyways. it's the entire year he's spent wishing to be by your side wrapped into one small moment.

when you finally pull away from him, the two of you are panting. your foreheads rest against each other, and bradley can't seem to get his hands off you. the same one stays on your cheek and rubs small circles while the other is tentative against your waist. he's nearly giddy at holding you so close.

"you have any idea how long i've been waiting for you to do that?" you ask.

"probably about as long as i have," he replies with a hoarse voice.

"didn't think you were interested." you give him an incredulous look when he starts laughing, but that only makes him laugh harder.

"i should've listened to natasha so long ago." at that, you join him, head tilted back, and laugh into the sky. it's a long moment where the two of you giggle like schoolgirls outside the hard deck, and bradley wouldn't change it for the world. "think anyone will notice if we leave?"

you think for a moment and reply, "nat definitely will."

"she'll consider it a win." and that sends another round of laughs through you both.

the next morning, the team makes a plan to get brunch at a little cafe nearby, and if they notice that you and bradley arrive together and sit just a bit too close, no one says anything about it.

no one except for natasha, that is.

she finally catches a moment with bradley alone when people are saying their goodbyes.

"you finally did something about your pining?" she asks, a grin already spreading across her face.

bradley shrugs, but the smile he dons is telling, and the gentle kiss he places against your temple when you walk over to him, even more so.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x you #top gun x you #bradley bradshaw headcanon #rooster headcanon #top gun headcanons #top gun maverick headcanons #miles teller x reader

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gwydionmisha · 2 years ago

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Proud Boys, III%ers, and MAGA radicals target Drag Story Hour in San Diego

#Proud Boys #III%ers #MAGA Extremists #San Diego #Drag Story Hour

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ilovejb · 17 days ago

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hi! I absolutely loved ur hurt/comfort for lewis!! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy hurt/comfort about him and the reader meeting on the set of top gun maverick? I found it so cute!!

| Altitude |

Pairing : Lewis Pullman x Actress!Reader

Summary: While filming Top Gun: Maverick, the stress of your first big role threatens to pull you under—until Lewis Pullman quietly becomes your anchor.

Warnings: Fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, kissing

Authors note : I need Lewis so bad I physically ache

The sun had just started rising over the San Diego base, spilling soft orange light over the tarmac. Fighter jets stood quiet and still, engines silent for now, as the film crew scurried into place like a hive waking up.

You sat on a folding chair near base camp, still dressed in your green flight suit, fingers nervously twisting the zipper up and down.

You were supposed to shoot a reaction scene today—just a couple of close-up shots, nothing huge—but the pressure was already curling inside your chest like smoke.

A few weeks into filming Top Gun: Maverick, and you were already losing sleep.

Everyone else seemed so chill. So confident. You were the new one. The last-minute addition to round out the squadron, an actress with a couple indie films under her belt, now surrounded by established names and Navy advisors barking out commands like you were actually on deployment.

You couldn’t breathe.

“Hey.”

The voice came gently, like a soft knock on the door to your panic.

You looked up and blinked.

Lewis Pullman stood beside you, holding two coffee cups in one hand and a granola bar in the other. His hair was a mess of curls under a backward cap, and he looked like he hadn’t quite woken up yet.

“You okay?” he asked, offering one of the coffees.

You hesitated, then took it with a murmured “thanks.”

He sat beside you without waiting for an invitation, resting the granola bar on the arm of your chair.

“You looked like you might be spiraling,” he said, not unkindly. “I’m a bit of a spiraler myself.”

You let out a breath that was half a laugh. “That obvious?”

“Only to another anxious person.”

You stared out at the runway, sipping the coffee. Silence stretched between you—comfortable, not awkward.

“I keep thinking I’m gonna be the weak link,” you admitted, voice low. “Like they’ll realize I’m not actually cut out for this.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, letting the morning breeze ruffle his jacket.

“Wanna hear something crazy?” he said.

You nodded.

“I almost threw up before my first scene,” he confessed. “Full body nausea. Like, was sure I’d mess up and disappoint everyone.”

Your brows lifted. “You? But you seem so—”

“Put together?” he offered with a crooked smile. “That’s the trick. I act like I am until I believe it.”

You blinked at him, then looked down at the cup in your hands. His words sank in slowly.

He didn’t ask you to smile or tell you to ‘shake it off.’ He just let the feeling exist in the open. Like it didn’t make you weak. Like it was allowed.

That morning, Lewis stayed beside you until you were called to set. And when the cameras rolled and the director called “Action,” you caught a glimpse of him just off-frame, watching you.

Steady. Quiet. Soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Filming dragged on for weeks after that morning.

Between long days on the tarmac and evening flight training, everyone was running on caffeine and exhaustion. But something had shifted quietly for you.

Because every time you felt overwhelmed, you’d find Lewis nearby—offering a protein bar, a joke, or a quiet moment where you could just be without the cameras, the pressure, the pretend bravery.

And somehow, you started doing the same for him.

You learned he hated big crowds, got overstimulated by noise, and sometimes disappeared on lunch breaks just to sit in his car with music playing low. You started bringing him iced tea instead of coffee because he liked how “unserious” it felt. You teased him, gently, and he teased you right back—but it was always kind. Always safe.

And now, it was near the end of shooting.

The hotel where the cast stayed was unusually quiet—most people had flown home for a long weekend, but you and Lewis had opted to stay. Whether that was coincidence or intentional, neither of you said.

You were watching an old movie on his laptop, curled up at the foot of his bed in your hoodie and sweats, sharing popcorn with Lewis, who was half-propped against the headboard, socks mismatched and hair damp from a shower.

You had barely touched your popcorn, too distracted by the warmth in your chest every time he laughed at the screen.

When the movie ended, neither of you moved.

The only light in the room came from the streetlamp outside, casting faint gold patterns through the blinds. The silence that settled wasn’t awkward. Just… heavy. Expectant.

Lewis shifted, pulling the blanket over both your legs.

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly.

You glanced at him. “Of course.”

“What happens when this ends? Like—this movie. This bubble. Do we just… go back to real life like nothing happened?”

Your chest tightened.

“Is that what you want?” you asked.

He shook his head, slowly. “No. Not even close.”

You sat up straighter, your legs brushing his under the blanket.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had something like this,” you whispered. “Not just the movie, but… you. Us.”

He looked at you like he’d been waiting his whole life for those words.

“You make me feel like I’m not broken,” he said. “Like I don’t have to keep pretending to be confident all the time. Like I can just… exist. And you won’t leave.”

Your breath caught.

You reached up, hesitantly, and brushed your fingers through the curls above his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch like it physically calmed him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured.

He opened his eyes again, gaze burning now. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

And the second his lips met yours, the world went quiet.

It wasn’t rushed or needy. It was anchored. Like his hands had finally found the thing they were meant to hold. One slid behind your neck, the other gripping your thigh under the blanket as you leaned into him, mouths moving in slow, tender sync.

You felt his sigh as your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more—not in a lustful way, but like you were starving for connection.

His kiss deepened, lips parting as his tongue gently grazed yours, and you whimpered against him without meaning to. That sound made him pull you into his lap in one smooth movement, hands warm under your hoodie now, not groping—just touching, grounding you both.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, your foreheads stayed pressed together.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Lewis said first, voice raw and almost shy.

Your heart flipped.

“I know I’m in love with you,” you whispered.

He laughed softly, pulling you in again, this time to press kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder.

“God, I was so scared,” he murmured. “Scared I’d lose you the second we left set.”

“You won’t,” you promised. “Not ever.”

You spent the rest of the night in his arms, whispering about your fears, your hopes, your dreams for life after the movie—like building a future wasn’t terrifying anymore, now that it included each other.

And when the sun came up over the Pacific, painting the room in soft morning light, Lewis was still holding you.

And you were still smiling.

#female!reader #lewis pullman one shot #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman smut #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds one shot #bob reynolds imagines #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds smut #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob reynolds #lewis pullman fluff

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rosie-posie1313 · 1 month ago

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Robert 'Bob' Floyd Fic Recs

06/12/2025

⭒ 𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒔 𝒊𝒊 by @ruerecs

⭒ Shy Reader x B. Floyd by @0mg-bird

At the Navy bar your friends drag you to, you come across an aviator who isn’t like the rest of them.

⭒ Switch up by @littleenglishfangirl

⭒ I Will End You by @itwillbethescarletwitch

Fem!Mitchell!Reader

⭒ naval admin reader by @moon-fics

⭒ That’s my wife by @writesick-lover

⭒ Hangman’s Sister by @cap-winter-barnes

Y/N is Hangman's little sister - everyone on the Dagger Squad knows she's dating Bob, except for her big brother.

⭒ Sunscreen by @siempre-bucky

Bob burns. Your daughter gets very paranoid when he forgets his sunscreen one morning and insists on bringing it to him.

⭒ Hair by @/siempre-bucky

Bob feels disappointed when he can’t do elaborate hairstyles on his daughter so you let him practice on you.

⭒ "B feeling shy in swimwear and A hyping them up" by @/siempre-bucky

You know Bob’s reserved, his favorite yellow shirt was his comfort source at the beach, but you just want to see his beautiful body underneath it. So naturally, you pin him to the side of the Jeep and tell him he’s hot.

⭒ He Didn’t Have to Be by @imjess-themess

You’re afraid Bob is going to run the other way when your daughter accidentally calls him dad.

⭒ The Five Stages of Falling In Love by @/imjess-themess

Y/N’s falling in love, even though she really didn’t want to. She’s going through the five stages of grief upon realizing it.

⭒ Being his girlfriend by @nobody7102

⭒ Bad day by @/nobody7102

⭒ It’s okay by @/nobody7102

⭒ Polaroids by @the-shedevil-writes

Bob keeps your relationship private, but he doesn’t try to hide the dozens of Polaroids of you all over his locker and truck. He has a daily routine of taping his favorite Polaroid of you to his jet’s console, but when it goes missing, things get chaotic. Luckily, you’re there to make everything better.

⭒ Concussion by @38livesalone-has3cats

⭒ secret wife by @writingdumpster

When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob’s been keeping a wife from them.

⭒ bob’s shirt by @/writingdumpster

When you wear Bob’s shirt to The Hard Deck, your secret relationship is found out. Reader’s callsign is Fox.

⭒ Wanna Buy You A Drink by @anonymooseforever007

It's been five months since Bob's seen his wife, and aside from Natasha he had yet to mention her to his team. He calls it privacy, she jokes it's internalised possessiveness. But tonight, with Penny's help at the Hard Deck, more than one person is in for a surprise. After all, who doesn't love a good innuendo?

⭒ He’s All That by @withahappyrefrain

Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover.

⭒ The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It by @/withahappyrefrain

You’ve fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you’re flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn’t realize that immediately

⭒ Unorthodox (Pt. 1) by @specialbrewbutterbeer

⭒ Unorthodox (PART II) by @/specialbrewbutterbeer

⭒ Waiting for Someone by a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all

⭒ Hands by @foreverrandomwritings

The 5 times Bob sees you looking at his hands and the 1 time he says something.

⭒ 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬 by @roosterbruiser

AdmiralsDaughter!Reader where the dagger squad finds out he's dating/engaged/married

⭒ The Wingman by @roosterforme

Bob never did this sort of thing. Talking to girls and flirting and romance. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he just didn’t really know how. But you were different in all the right ways, and you made him feel confident enough to try.

⭒ A Friendly Push by @skvatnavle

⭒ My Love, Forever by @robertcallsignbobfloyd

Bob doesn't want the whole squadron to know he's married, but needs his biggest support system with him in North Island.

⭒ All Fun & Games by @purelyfiction

Returning to San Diego was just another assignment for you. Another step in the career path, full steam ahead, until you come to an obstacle in the road. Usually, you’d navigate around it, keep on going, but this is no normal obstacle. It might be enough to reroute you completely.

⭒ Bob x hangmans sister, by @ahockeywrites

⭒ Being Married To and Having a Baby With Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Headcanons: by @fanboygarcia

⭒ Robby by @dearestdaffodils

Bob likes to keep his personal life and work life separate.

⭒ Only Exception by @kinzis-writing

Y/N Mitchell swore to herself that she would never allow herself to date or get involved with anyone from any branch of the military. After worrying about her father, the past few years, she knew that she never wanted to experience that worry for a significant other. After her father gets ordered back to California, she may just meet the one that ruins all her plans.

⭒ It’s Always Been You by @midnightdevotion

⭒ My Boys by @writergirl35

You and Bob have welcomed a son into the world. Your son just turned 11 months and Bob can’t decide who he loves more, his son, or the woman who brought him into the world.

⭒ Dancing with you by @applebutter-and-cinnamon

A dance with Bob leaves you infatuated and slightly surprised that a man like him actually exists.

⭒ Welcome home by @joaquinwhorres

Bob comes home to you and reflects on your relationship.

⭒ Just Bob by @fandomwriterkailyn

⭒ the captain’s daughter by @callsignhoney

an unlikely candidate has you breaking your dad (and brother’s) “no pilots” policy

⭒ Need to Know by @bussyslayer333

an accidental call to your boyfriend on girls night leaves everyone shocked at a revelation they never thought they would have; bob fucks.

⭒ Make It Proper by @Rassvetsky

“He blinked at you, before his smile got a bit wider. You could see the reflection of the setting sun in the blues of his eyes, a twinkle of excitement— the gratitude of being understood maybe, or it’s just that he’s glad to have you around.”

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader

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untitled-document-95 · 4 months ago

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Back and Forth (jake "hangman" seresin x reader)

Summary: Jake doesn't know why you're playing hard to get. Only you know that you're not playing at all.

Warnings: Language, the state of missouri

Requested: by @x3zerochanx3 see full ask here

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: I typically try to keep the "reader" character as nondescript as possible, but I had to give a lil background for this one

*gif is not mine*

_________________

“Jake?”

That single word caused Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin to flush with warmth and relief.

“Hi, momma. How was your flight?”

“Oh, you know how public transportation is these days! Not a bit of southern hospitality in sight. Guess that’s why it’s called southern hospitality!” Mama Seresin ranted into the phone, causing Jake to chuckle.

“We’re getting our luggage now, sweetie. Are you still meeting us at the hotel for dinner when you get done for the day?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jake replied.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see you, honey.”

The mother and son exchange “I love you”’s and goodbyes and hang up the call, dragging Hangman unwillingly back to the cold locker room. He finishes changing into his flight suit for that afternoon’s training exercises. Just a few more hours and he’d get to see his parents for the first time in too many months. He’d requested a few days off, and his parents taking the time and energy to travel to him meant he got to make the most of those days. He couldn’t wait.

Finally, Jake was driving through the sweltering San Diego streets towards the address his mom had texted him. She’d said their hotel was new, so "it had better be good". He was pleasantly surprised to see the hotel was a mere two blocks from The Hard Deck. It was new, the exterior a sun bleached white stucco with black accents.

A blast of air conditioning greeted Jake as he entered, but it was nothing compared to the hug his mother pulled him into just seconds later.

“Jake!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of excitement and relief. Jake responded only by holding her more tightly and humming into her hair. Her scent was familiar and comforting, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Pulling away, Jake reached out to hug his father as well. What a lucky guy I am, Jake thought.

“Now, where are you taking your parents to eat?” Mama Seresin asked. Jake laughed.

“Well, what sounds good? I’ll be honest, I haven’t been around town much.”

“Let’s ask the front desk,” mama says, making towards the sleek marble counter. A tight-laced looking guy stands there; the kind Jake would have called a string bean if he weren’t trying to mind his manners in front of mama.

“Excuse me, sir, could you give us some recommendations for somewhere to have dinner?” she asks sweetly.

“There’s some brochures in the breakfast room,” he says curtly, immediately bringing a frown to Mrs. Seresin’s face. Jake opens his mouth to tell him where he can shove his brochures when a woman Jake hadn’t noticed in the shadows behind him makes herself known.

“Allow me,” she says, practically hip-checking the other employee out of the way. “Are we wanting to try some of the local flavor?”

I sure do, Jake thinks. The girl is pretty. Not in the typical San Diego girl way. She’s sun kissed but not overly tan, she’s got muscle and a body, not the skeletal figure of too many of the local girls who frequent The Hard Deck, trying to pick up a pilot. She must live here, or she wouldn’t work here, but Jake somehow doubts that she’s from here. There’s a twinge of an accent in her voice.

“I think that sounds lovely, dear. Where do you recommend?”

“There’s a cantina just down the road that serves the best tamales. There’s usually no wait and they don’t take reservations, otherwise I’d call ahead for you.”

“Well, if there isn’t a little southern hospitality left outside of Texas. You have been most helpful, dear. What’s your name?” The woman sticks out a hand, gives her name, and introduces herself as the hotel manager.

“You must be from a southern state,” Mama Seresin assumes.

“Sort of, ma’am,” the woman replies awkwardly. “I’m from Missouri.”

Mama Seresin’s smile shows a flash of confusion for a moment before perkily replying, “Well, close enough! Thank you so much, dear. Come on, gentlemen!” As the family retreats, it doesn’t escape the hotel manager’s notice the way Jake’s eyes stay on her as he walks away, giving a quick wink just before stepping through the front doors.

____________

Jake’s time with his family flies by, and he doesn’t see the cute hotel manager again. Saying goodbye before they leave for their late evening flight is more painful than he would ever say aloud.

He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he heads to The Hard Deck after dropping them at the airport for a beer or two. Finding an empty stool at the bar, he begins to nurse his pint, not feeling up to pool or darts or any of his usual exploits. None of his pilot buddies are there yet anyway, it’s too early for them. He may try to duck out before any of them arrive in order to have some more alone time before having to face everyone at training again tomorrow.

A boisterous laugh echoes across the room, and Jake looks towards the sound reflexively. It’s her - the hotel manager. She’s no longer dressed in her professional blazer, but a casual tank top. Something Penny and/or some old regular just said must’ve made her laugh. There’s a cocktail glass in her hand, but no friends in sight.

Better yet, no boyfriend Jake thinks, climbing off of the stool to approach her.

“Hey, Missouri,” he says as he draws closer, leaning against the bar near her.

“Hello!” she replies cheerfully as though she’s still at work. “How did my dinner recommendation turn out?”

“Delicious, thank you. The tamales were quite good.”

“Well, good! Can’t wait to go try them myself,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“Wait…” Jake starts. “You haven’t eaten there yet? Then how’d you recommend it?”

“I have spent an ungodly amount of time scouring reviews of everywhere within a 10 mile radius. That place had some of the best, and everyone mentioned the tamales.”

“Are you saying…you lied to my mother?” Jake says, both shocked and amazed. The woman laughs into her drink and her cheeks flush pink, making Jake wonder how many drinks she’s had.

“Well, I can’t try everywhere at once. I’m working through it, though. That’s why I’m here tonight. A bar within walking distance of the hotel? I’ll recommend it all day and night if it’s good, which…” she looks into her glass and then back at Jake. “It is.”

“Is that part of a hotel manager’s job?” he asks.

“It is if you want to be a good one,” she answers, eyebrows hiking up.

“And are you? A good one?”

“I’d like to think so, or I at least want to be. This is my first time,” she admits.

“As a hotel manager?”

“During the day, anyway. I’ve been a night auditor in a few different places.”

“And how did a girl from Missouri end up all the way here in San Diego? That’s a long way from home,” Jake smirks and sips his beer. She smirks back to let him know that she’s onto his little game.

“I have family here. You’re not from here either I’m guessing, given that your parents stayed in my hotel to see you. Where are you from, Captain Obvious?”

“It’s Lieutenant.”

This response causes her to nearly choke to death on the drink she was taking a sip of. Penny looks over to see what the fuss is.

“He has that effect on people, sweetie!” Penny hollers.

When she has stopped coughing and taken another sip to clear her throat, she speaks again.

“Was that to be funny, or…?”

“No, I’m really a Lieutenant, from Texas but stationed here at the moment. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, nice to meet you…again,” he says, offering her a hand. She shakes politely but doesn’t reintroduce herself.

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

Just then, a group of fellow pilots enters the crowded bar. Spotting Jake, one comes over and claps a hand enthusiastically to his shoulder.

“Hangman! Come on, man, rack ‘em up with me!” the guy shouts.

“Hangman?” she asks.

“Call sign. Old Navy tradition,” he says to her. “I’m a little busy at the moment, guys,” he replies to his friends.

“It’s okay,” she says, climbing down from her stool and getting out a card to close her tab with Penny. “I should get going anyway, I have a ton of paperwork to get done.”

Reluctantly, Jake pulls away from the bar.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Missouri,” he calls to her.

“Not a chance, Tex,” she replies, smiling and turning away.

—-

The next day, Jake is perusing cottage cheese options at the grocery store when someone bumps into him. Literally - her body collides with his, no doubt from lack of attention. The woman stands and immediately begins apologizing, but stops dead in her tracks when her eyes lock with his.

“I am so sorry, I was not looking where I-“

“Hey, Missouri,” Jake says flirtatiously. She attempts to speak, but each word she starts gets lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth, so Jake fills in the blanks for her. “Funny running into you here.” His tone drips with arrogance, like he knows just how much his sudden reappearance has thrown her and he wants to revel in it.

“Are you stalking me?” she asks, but there’s a lightheartedness to her tone.

“I could say the same for you,” he retorts.

“Fair enough. I’m sorry for running into you, I guess I got carried away looking for yogurt.”

"I'll chalk that up as the weirdest excuse someone has given for trying to get my attention," Jake says smoothly.

"Ah-" she starts, clearly outraged but with a smile on her face. "I was not!" she finally says.

"No, it's okay!" he says. "I'm irresistible, I know."

"Whatever makes you feel better," she quips back.

"What would make me feel better is if you'd just, you know, give it up and let me take you out properly."

A surprised smile stretches across her face as she crosses her arms.

"Is that what you think I've been trying to do?" Her tone is still casual, playful. Jake simply maintains eye contact, even giving her that signature wrinkle of his nose to really drive home the point: he doesn't need to say anything more, because they both know the mutual desire is there.

"Ohhh..kay, I'm gonna get my yogurt now." Jake smiles and rolls his eyes as she does just that. When was she going to give up the "hard to get" act? Jake reaches back as well, selecting a container of cottage cheese.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you how we do it here in Fightertown, USA."

"Oh, now you've ticked me off in more ways than one," she says, tossing her selected yogurt into her cart and pulling it around to face the direction she intends on moving, but a laugh threatens to bubble out of her.

"How so?" Jake asks, his brow knitted in confusion.

"You called me 'sweetheart' and you eat cottage cheese." She begins pushing her cart away from the dairy section. Jake remains, dumbfounded.

"What's wrong with cottage cheese?" he calls to her retreating figure.

"It's disgusting!"

_________________

That night, Jake lay on the couch and did something he had never really done before - he searched for her on Facebook. He knew her name, her home state, and her current city and occupation, but it still took a while to find her. The posts on her profile were frustratingly private, but it did answer the most basic questions he had about this mysterious girl. Was she in a relationship? Was that why she was always rejecting his advances? No, her profile said "Single". Was she gay? Also no, a deep dive of her "About Me" said she was interested in men. He figured she would have said something a lot sooner if either of those things had been true, but you never knew.

Jake couldn't decide if this whole experience was new because women didn't generally reject him or because he didn't generally chase a woman this way. In fairness, she'd never technically said "no", she just deflected. Frustrated and confused, Jake ran both hands through his hair before turning on a show to calm his mixed-up feelings.

_________________

"I don't know mom, she just...isn't biting on anything," Jake tells his mom through FaceTime a few days later. Some people may assume the ever-confident, always-"on" Jake Seresin wouldn't discuss the minor details of his love life with his mother, but they'd be wrong. He always leaves out the more colorful details, of course.

"Well, just go talk to her! You know where she works," Mama Seresin replies.

"Mom. It's not 1958, I'll look like a stalker if I do that," he says.

"Whatever you say, dear. Oh! Did I tell you about..." Jake's mind swirls more as his mother updates him on more gossip and neighborhood news from home. Maybe it's time to move on, give up on this girl. She clearly doesn't want to be courted, so why waste the mental energy? But a part of him nags that she's worth whatever it takes to break down the walls she's put up between them.

"Jake? Jacob Michael, are you listening to me?" Mama snaps. Ah, shit. Middle name.

"I'm sorry mom, I got distracted," he admits.

"Well, if you're gonna be distracted, might as well be useful. I need you to run by that hotel your father and I stayed at." Jake's heart pounds. Where she works? Why?

"What for?"

"Your daddy thinks he left his glasses in the desk drawer. You know how he is with those damn things. Insurance won't cover a new pair for 6 months and with his lenses alone we're looking at over a hundred dollars, not to mention whatever the hell frames he wants, and-"

"I got it, mama. I'll run by there this afternoon."

_________________

Why the hell am I nervous? Jake wonders as he approaches the front desk of the hotel. So far, it didn't even look like she was there. If she was, she at least wasn't the one working the desk. He couldn't decide if he would be relieved or disappointed if he made it out of here without seeing her and getting another shot at convincing her.

Just as it was his turn in line, the phone at the desk rang. The gentleman working the desk called her name, the one that occupied so much of his brain at the moment. The man answered the phone, turning his attention away from the line in front of him. Presumably from the back office, she appears and looks astonished to see him standing there.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" she says, remaining professional but with a new look of intrigue on her face. Too late, Jake realizes this is the first time she's seen him in any kind of uniform, still in his service khakis from work that day.

"Afternoon, ma'am," he says, tipping his head in her direction cordially. "My mother and father stayed here last week, in room 510, and they fear they may have left a pair of eyeglasses behind in the desk drawer."

"Let me go check the lost and found, I'll be right back," she answers, dazzling him with that smile of hers. She returns shortly, no glasses in hand.

"I didn't find them, but there's no one in that room right now and no one has stayed there since your parents checked out. If you'd like, we can run up there and take a look?" she offers.

"That would be great, thank you."

"Want me to take him?" the front desk guy says, now finished with the phone call. Not taking her eyes off of Jake, she answers him.

"No, I've got it. You finish helping the rest of these lovely people out."

The elevator ride to the room is quiet but not awkward. Jake can almost sense every modicum of professionalism in her body working to keep something inside, to hold her back in some way. Inside, they scour every drawer and cabinet and look under the beds for the missing glasses, to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Seresin, doesn't look like they're here," she says regretfully.

“That’s alright, Missouri. They’re probably in my dad’s pocket but at least now I can say I looked.”

“True,” she chuckles.

“You know, I usually take a girl out for dinner before bringing her to the bedroom,” he teases. She scoffs.

“Oh, my God. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Literally,” Jake smirks. “Maybe we can rewind and do it right this time.” Jake steps closer to her, causing her breath to catch in her chest.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very persistent?”

“Not since last week,” he says, getting a chuckle out of both of them.

“Lieutenant S-“

“Call me Jake,” he interrupts.

“Jake,” she says slowly. “I’m sorry, I just-“ her eyes dart to her feet and she bites her lower lip before looking up at him. She squints up like he’s as bright as the sun. “I just moved here. I don’t do one night stands. I don’t have the capacity for a relationship right now.” She says each sentence like they're bullet points; a rehearsed rejection.

Jake swears he feels part of him begin to bruise, and not his ego this time.

“I understand,” he says, still gazing at her…lovingly? He winks. “Let me know when you’ve got room for me, huh?”

Looking all too much like a starry-eyed school girl, she replies, “I will.”

Back in the car, Jake tries to shake off his disappointment by calling his mom to update her on the glasses situation.

“Jakey?” she answers.

“Hey, mama. I just went by the hotel, they didn’t have dad’s glasses.”

“What glasses? Your dad’s glasses are on his face?”

“You asked me to-“ Jake stops mid sentence as the realization dawns on him.

“Mom!” he exclaims, hearing his mom’s raucous laughter in the background.

_________________

The next night, Jake’s friends drag him to The Hard Deck to try and cheer him up from whatever it is that’s bothering him, since he doesn’t seem keen on sharing with them. They encourage him to put his moves on some new lady. Despite his reservations, he figures it can’t hurt. He’s surprised by his own behavior when he scans the bar, not only looking for a potential lady but looking for her. If she’s here, he won’t be able to bring himself to talk to anyone else. She’s magnetic, that one.

He doesn’t spot her, but does spot a nice looking gal hanging a little too close to the dart board to just be a fan of darts. Approaching her and putting on the charm is like muscle memory, but there’s a soreness in the muscle. He can feel how much he wishes he was putting all this charisma down for her, not the woman in front of him, pretty and nice as she may be.

An hour and a few drinks later, Jake has Allie, as she introduced herself, on the dance floor. Spinning around, Jake wonders if it’s too early to try and get her out of here. Moreso, he isn’t sure he even wants to. The distraction has been nice, but bringing her back to his place doesn’t have the same impact it would have before meeting a certain hotel manager.

On one of many spins, Jake loses all sense of balance. Not physically, but emotionally. All because he spots her across the bar, standing at a high top table and having a conversation with another guy. What the hell is she doing? What happened to “not having the capacity to date right now”?

Jake is this close to marching up to her to ask her just that when Allie drags him to the bar for another drink. His eyes dart over to her every few seconds. At first, her interactions with the guy seem casual. Jake can tell from the way the guy shifts his body and looks between her eyes and her lips more frequently that he wants the conversation to be less casual. There’s no way she’ll reciprocate…right?

_________________

She hadn’t noticed Jake and his date on the other side of the bar. She'd remained steadily focused on her job for the evening - entertaining her boss's son, who'd unexpectedly rolled into town that day. She, like Jake had, scoured the landscape of the bar upon her arrival, but didn’t manage to lay eyes on the aviator who seemed hell bent on flying around her mind all day and night. That is, until she hears his voice boom over the din of the room. Looking over, she watches as a girl drags him to the dance floor. Wait - had he or had he not just insinuated that when she was ready to date, he’d be there? She thought that meant he’d be waiting for her…this sure didn’t look like waiting. But...who was she kidding? A guy like him and a girl like her? She was lucky he’d even been so persistent. If she’d wanted him, she should have let him in when he tried the first several times.

But oh, did she want him. So, so badly. She couldn’t admit that the fear of her previous relationship’s failure - the one that had sent her on this journey to get a job as far away from home as possible - was what was keeping her from entering into a relationship so soon. Ruminating on her regret stoked a fire in her chest - if he could move on so quickly, why couldn’t she?

In a snap decision, she purposefully leaned closer and “turned it on” as her friends always told her to do: allowing her eyes to drift to parts of Liam other than his eyes, sipping her drink a little more sensually, but still holding back just a bit so she could defend herself if she were accused of being unprofessional. She couldn’t help but feel that Liam wasn’t exactly interested in remaining strictly professional.

_________________

Across the bar, Jake was nearly turning red with frustration. Splitting his attention between Allie and the date over at the high top table, he couldn’t help but notice the changes in her body language. The way she leaned in, the way she damn near batted her eyelashes at this guy. What did he have that Jake didn’t? Jake resented the seed of self-doubt she’d planted in his chest.

He continued to watch as she actually brushed her hand down his arm.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jake mutters under his breath.

“What’s that?” Allie asked.

“Nothing, darling. Not a damn thing,” he replied, gritting his teeth a little as he looked back over at them. He began formulating a plan for intercepting their little tête-à-tête somehow when, lo and behold, someone unplugged the jukebox, sending a round of groans throughout the room. Jake had been around long enough to realize what was happening. Sure enough, moments later, someone started up a song on the piano. Looking up and over the crowd, Jake spotted - who else? - Bradley at the keys. Normally, Bradley’s piano peacocking would annoy him, but tonight, it was his chance.

“Let’s get closer!” Allie begs, grabbing around Jake’s bicep.

“You go on, I gotta do something real fast,” he shouts in order to be heard over the cheers and initial notes of Rooster’s song. Allie smiles and rushes off to get closer to the piano.

Before his targets can do the same, Jake hustles to the opposite side of the bar. Unsure if it's the beer in his system or something else making him so bold, Jake walks right up behind her and touches a gentle hand to her elbow as he says her name.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Her forehead knits and unknits just as quickly before she turns to her date, excusing herself. Jake carefully guides her out to the deck, closing the door behind them to muffle the sounds of the music inside. It’s much calmer on the deck, the sun just about to set on the horizon. The sound of the ocean waves and the faint smell of salt soothes Jake's nerves just a bit.

“What the hell is going on in there?” Jake asks, as calmly as possible despite his un-holy language.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says modestly, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing, back to the sea.

“Don’t give me that, Missouri. What happened to being too busy to date?”

“I’m not on a date, Jake. I’m entertaining a VIP guest of the hotel, and yes, that’s part of my job too.”

“Yeah, that looked a lot like a business meeting.” His tone is heavy with sarcasm.

“Well, it’s not like you did much waiting around, either!” she retorts. Jake snickers, but has no response. If only she knew how truly remarkable it is to render him speechless.

“What is this, Jake?” she asks. “Why do you care so much, anyway?” Something in her voice seems wounded, like someone who has been hurt before and fully expects to be hurt again. That phrase in and of itself digs into Jake sharply, like a knife.

Jake's hands find his hips and he looks to the sky, practically begging God to send him the words he needs to convince her to give him a chance. There’s a figurative whisper in his ear - his mom’s voice, reminding him to be himself. But who is he, really? He didn’t want her the way he wanted the girls he usually found at The Hard Deck - in the bedroom sense only. He wanted her for so much more than that. With a heavy sigh, he looks at her once again.

“I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want. But I want…us. I think that we could be something amazing, and I don’t know if I can go my whole life without finding out if I’m right or not.” His voice cracks on the last sentence, a fact that makes her look stricken, as though she takes accountability for his sudden show of emotion.

Her cheeks are a violent shade of red. Exhaling, she allows her arms to uncross, palms moving to rest on her lower back. She, too, looks to the sky. For her, though, it’s not because she has no words - it’s because she has too many. She fears drowning him with her words, unsure if that would be preferable to the drought she’s already left him in.

Jake slowly draws closer to her, but remains just barely within arm’s reach. He reaches out a hand to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind her ear.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers. She lets out a shuddery breath.

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“Of what?” She sniffles and drops her eyes to her feet.

“That another person will be so cruel as to pretend to care about me more than they really do.”

For a minute, the only sounds are the muffled music and cheers from the bar goers inside, the crashing of the waves, the calls of the seagulls swooping down for one last snack.

Jake looks into her face more intently than anyone ever has. He notices that her eyes are no longer on him, but beyond him, through the large windows of the bar. Turning to follow her gaze, he sees exactly what she does - the guy she'd been with inside and Allie, wrapped up in one another like they hadn't both been there with other people less than 5 minutes ago. Jake turns back around.

“I would say it’s their loss, but it’s not.” A look of befuddlement takes over her face, until Jake clarifies. “It’s not their loss because anyone who has done that to you is clearly too stupid to realize what they lost when they walked away from you. You’re too smart, too powerful, too beautiful for them to realize what they’re missing out on. I’m not going to make the same mistake…if you’ll let me prove it.” With each sentence, Jake has inched closer. Their faces are so close they’d be cross eyed if they were trying to make eye contact. That’s probably why, when they both look up, their lips brush one another. With a level of synchronization that can’t be taught, they both reach for the other, pulling each other close. Their lips crash together quietly but inside, there’s an explosion. All the tension and build up to this moment melts into the kiss, like two lovers reunited after years apart instead of practical strangers who met less than two weeks ago.

The tension ebbs as they pull apart and lock eyes. Tentative smiles sneak into view, perhaps both a bit embarrassed, but neither regretful. Not one bit.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #untitleddocument95 #top gun fanfiction #tgm

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crowdedimagines · 7 months ago

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Last Christmas - Bradley Bradshaw

4k of fluff and a little horniness ❤️‍🔥 masterlist

summary: Bradley gets a 12-month assignment before he can secure a title with the hot bartender he’s been spending the past few weeks going home with… will she still be there waiting next Christmas?

Last year.

“I don’t know you guys, it’s just too early to expect anything of her.” Rooster shakes his head with a sigh. It’s heavy on his mind how soon the holidays are and how few days he actually has left here in San Diego.

Phoenix nods her head sympathetically, while Hangman is more focused rolling his eyes and his aim towards the dart board.

“It is early, but also in all the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you obsess over a girl this much.” Phoenix admits.

“Just say he’s whipped, Nix.” Hangman interjects while launching another dart at the board.

“It’s a twelve-month deployment. I’ll be gone for a year.” Rooster has to fight the urge to put his head down on the table to show how utterly defeated he feels, “That’s a lot for any relationship let alone one that’s less than two months old and technically doesn’t even have a title.”

“Yeah, whose fault is that on the title.” Phoenix kicks his shin.

“I could get a girl to wait a year for me.” Hangman smirks, his eyes still never leaving the dart board.

“Hangman, you couldn’t get a girl to wait a week for you.” Rooster jabs.

“No, don’t get it twisted.” He smirks while tucking the toothpick back between his lips, “I won’t wait a week for anyone, but I could get a girl to wait for me.”

On that disgusting note, Hangman leaves the two of them at the hightop close to the darts in favor of the pool table that has the rest of their group surrounding it.

“Speak of the devil.” Phoenix teases catching sight of Y/n as she finally leaves the bar with a tray in hand. She stops briefly when a guy asks for a refill and she nods before continuing over to their table.

“Why do you look like someone kicked a puppy?” She asks with a pout in her lips, she sets down a new beer for each of them and takes their old bottles.

“Hangman is an ass.” Rooster defends, glancing to Phoenix for a brief second to remind her to go along with it.

“Awe, do you need me to take away his toys?” She says with a smirk and a squeeze of his bicep before she makes her way back behind the bar still wearing a grin. It’s a Friday so the bar is busy and they’re doing their normal routine.

Y/n has been bartending at the hard deck for two months and she's been hooking up with Rooster for nearly two months. Bradley had to chase her for a few weeks before she finally let him take her home and they’ve kept it up ever since.

She’s quick witted and isn’t afraid to tell anyone off which he likes a lot. He’s witnessed her ring the bell more times than he can count, but he always notes how smug she is to put a man in his place. Hangman has been on the receiving end of the verbal lashings a couple of times, which had Rooster dragging her home early with a proud grin.

“Let me just say this, the longer you wait to tell her the harder it’ll be. Get it over with so you can enjoy the next few days.” Phoenix advises.

“What if once I tell her and then it’s done right then and there?”

He panics thinking about the possibility. It’s why he’s procrastinated telling her since he found out. He knows it’s more than just sex when they hang out, but there haven't been any real serious dates. He knows how she likes her coffee in the morning, and which movies she’s never seen that he tries to push that night. His weekends off they’ll spend the whole day leading up to her shift together, mostly in bed. Then he takes her to work and the whole group comes out to drink, and he spends the night pretending not to count down the minutes until she’s off again.

She’s very quickly become the entire center of his focus.

“Y/n is not like that.” She shakes her head, “You two are feral for each other, and as much as she loves to tease you, it’s obvious she likes you too.”

Rooster nods, drinking down a few more big gulps of his beer. He catches Y/n’s eyes from behind the bar and she throws him a wink not even faltering while pouring a mixed drink. Eventually he pulls himself out of his mopey mood when they join the rest of the group. It’s a good distraction from the upcoming deployment. Some of the group will be going with him too, so they’re trying to enjoy their night too. Last Friday of freedom. He joins for a couple rounds of pool, still nursing the same beer so he can drive later.

“Your girl is making googly eyes at you.” Javy nods his head in the direction of the bar behind him.

Rooster turns to look and catches her eyes and this time it’s his turn to smirk, but Y/n doesn’t look away. Her stare calling him over to the vacant stool in front of where she pours.

“Hey Sailor.” She greets with a name she calls him frequently, “Long time no see.”

“I saw you half an hour ago.” He smiles, “You getting lonely over here?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say lonely.” Her cheeks dust pink as she drags out the last word. She walks around to the other side of the bar to bring the drink she had just made.

“Do you have to close tonight?”

“Bradley, are you trying to take me home?” She whips around with a grin. She’s bantering with him per usual, as if they don’t always go home together at this point. And by home, they mean her tiny apartment. Rooster is living on base in the barracks for the time being as it wasn’t known how long he would be stationed at Top Gun. Ironically Bradley had been looking at apartments on his phone the last few weeks before he found out about the long-term deployment he would be stuck on.

“I’m always trying to take you home.” He admits.

“Well it must be your lucky day, Sailor. I don’t close, I’m off at eleven.”

Rooster looks down at his watch to see it’s a quarter past ten. He was hoping you didn’t close since he knew you were here well before him and the rest of the squad.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He gives her a knowing smile, backing away from the bar and she gives him a rare soft look. He returns to the group, knowing that since he’s leaving shortly he needs to hangout with them until it’s actually time to go. He waits until she starts to untie her apron and talking with Penny before he stands and starts his goodbyes.

Y/n makes her way out the back door after bringing some more stock up just in case. Rooster is leaning in the same spot as always, insisting on walking her to her car. She reaches out a hand for him to take but she’s surprised when they go down the stairs and he tugs her harder in the direction of the bronco.

“We can get your car tomorrow.” Bradley insists.

“Oh, is that so?” She lets him lead her anyway.

“Yes ma’am. I’m requiring a car ride because I don’t think I can spend another twenty minutes apart.” He leads her right over to the passenger side of the Bronco, swinging the door open for her. Instead of getting in she turns around, trapping herself between him and the car.

“Well, when you put it like that.” She pulls down on the back of his neck so their lips would meet for the first time of the night. She hums in satisfaction and he lets out a groan as she pulls on the curls on the back of his head. They give it a few minutes to get more intense before Bradley is pulling back. He’s got her pushed against the side of the car, both of them out of breath.

“This is gonna be a long twenty minutes.”

“Drive fast.”

They both get in the car after that, his hand glued to the top of her bare thigh. Even with Christmas only being a few days away, the air is warm in the sixties. The windows are cracked bringing a welcomed breeze for the two that are too hot to handle in the moment. Rooster keeps glancing to see how swollen her lips are and Y/n can’t tear her eyes from his messed up curls.

The first parking spot in sight has Rooster throwing the car in park and they both quickly throw their doors open. He chases her up the stairs when she takes off with a laugh, it only takes a few strides for him to catch her and throw her over his shoulder.

“You’re telling me all of this muscle has a use, not just for looks?” She asks from behind him, his arm securing her on top of his shoulder. She traces the center line of his back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“The Navy doesn’t do ‘just for looks’.” He reminds.

“That’s right, you are Navy property.” She reaches down to smack his ass, not noticing the pang Bradley felt at the reminder. He is Navy property and that’s why he has no say over leaving her for a year.

“Yeah, we actually need to talk about that.” He bends down to put her feet back on the ground. She didn’t even realize they were at her apartment door, but she just stands there with key in hand with her face pale at the serious tone of his voice.

“Bradley?”

“Let’s go in to talk about it.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just unlocking her door and leaving it open for him to follow. She makes her way over to the couch and sets her keys and bag down on the coffee table. He sits down next to her, fully aware of the fact that he’s killed whatever high they were both on the whole way home.

“I got official orders for a new deployment.” He blurts.

“Oh, okay.” She sighs, “For how long?”

He gulps audibly which brings back her nerves. He turns fully to face her on the couch before answering her question and you could hear a pin drop with the silence that is met after.

“A year?” Her brows shoot to the top of her forehead in shock. The reality sinking in and he watches a dozen emotions cross her face before she looks up to him again.

“I don’t even know the details yet, but from what I know it’s far away and it’s pretty complex. Likely now that I’ve been training pilots at Top Gun, I’ll probably be involved with training too.”

“God, can you try sucking at your job so they don’t take you very long?” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood. She pulls her legs up on the couch to sit cross legged facing him, he reaches out a hand to her knee without a second thought.

“No, ma’am.” He sighs, pushing a strand that’s escaped her ponytail back behind her ear.

“How soon do you have to go?”

“Monday.”

“This Monday?” She shrieks, “That’s before Christmas!”

“I know.” He pushes his lips together in a straight line to show his own dissatisfaction with it. His fluffy mustache on prominent display.

“You’re gonna miss Christmas.” She says sadly.

“I’m gonna miss a lot more than that.”

He leans down to peck her lips, but it doesn’t wipe the slight pout from her face.

“I like where this was headed.” She interrupts him with a ‘me too’ that makes him grin, “But I can’t ask you to wait that long. I won’t be back until next December. I really like you, and I know I’m gonna spend all that time thinking about you, but-”

“But what?” She interrupts once again. She pushes the curls back off his forehead and lets her fingers weave through and Bradley has to fight the urge to close his eyes. “What if I want to wait?”

This has his eyes opening wider in shock of his own.

“What?”

She smirks at his reaction and climbs into his lap, no longer fighting the need to be close to him. Her fingers still running along the sides of his head mindlessly and his hands find her hips.

“What. If. I. Wait?” She presses a kiss along his jaw between each word, his fingers digging in a little harder.

“Are you serious?” He leans his head back to get a clear view of her face. She sits back a little so they both can actually focus on the topic at hand.

“Bradley, I like you and I guarantee in a year I still will. Does this mean you’re finally gonna make me a girlfriend?”

“God, please can I?” She nods excitedly and this time he leads the kiss, desperate to hold her as close as physically possible. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” She grins widely.

“Will you wait a year for me to come back?”

“Yes, baby.” He kisses her like his life depends on it. He likes the new nickname and she can feel just how much he likes it as he hardens under her. “Take me to bed, boyfriend.”

The two of them spend all day Saturday in Y/n’s apartment. Not even leaving for food, opting to order delivery and stay in the comfort of the warm bed. Penny gave her Saturday off when she found out about Bradley’s deployment and how soon it was. Sadly she had no one to cover her Sunday shift so their bubble had to come to an end when Bradley needed new clothes and she had to get ready for work.

They decide to meet at the Hard Deck a couple hours after her shift starts. The entire Dagger Squad makes a Sunday night appearance knowing it’s going to be a long time before they’re all back together again.

“God, I didn’t think you guys could get worse.” Hangman huffs rolling his eyes. Y/n pulls away from her boyfriend, who she had been leaning across the counter to kiss. There’s only one other group tucked away by the window otherwise the squad takes up all of the stools at the bar.

“Just wait and see how insufferable he’s gonna be without me.” Y/n teases, grabbing Jake’s glass to refill it.

“Yeah, leave me and my girlfriend alone.” Rooster joins in, putting an extra emphasis on girlfriend.

“That sounds so hot.” She grins wider.

“Okay, yeah now I’m with him.” Phoenix shakes her head agreeing with Hangman.

It’s safe to say the two of them have been soaking in every last second they can. The bar has been quiet enough with it being a Sunday that the whole group just stayed at the bar so Y/n could still be close by. They didn’t know however that it would mean witnessing kisses over the bar and a lot of googly eyes. Penny gave her the all clear to close early if it were slow, so she is all too happy to kick out the squad when they are the only ones left.

Bradley waits for her to finish cleaning up, leaving together hand in hand out the back door to the parking lot.

“Where’s the Bronco?” She asks, noting the empty parking lot aside from her car.

“I left it on base so we could ride together tomorrow morning.” He clears his throat, “Unless you don’t want to take me, I can get Phoenix to-”

“I’ll take every minute I can get.” She smiles, pulling him down for a quick kiss as they make their way over to her car. “As if I would pass up on dropping you off. I was just hoping I was finally gonna drive the Bronco.”

“Yeah, maybe next year.” He rolls his eyes, knowing that she knows he doesn’t pass off his keys too easily.

Knowing she had been working until close at the Hard Deck and he sure as hell didn’t let her sleep much, she looks surprisingly awake at 6:00 a.m. She looks more than awake, she looks perfect. Her hair is a mess that he knows a brush hasn’t met yet today, but it reminds him of himself pulling on it. The fact that they opted for one more round in bed rather than taking the time to actually get ready.

“What’re you looking at?” She teases, catching onto his stare while she looks ahead at the road. They are already on base, he gives her directions when needed for where to drop him off.

“You.” He admits, “Soaking up every last second I can.”

“You won’t have to rely too much on your memory, reach in the backseat.” Her all too familiar wicked grin makes an appearance.

He reaches in the back to find a Christmas bag with bright tissue paper sticking out. He cuts her a serious look, they hadn’t had time to do presents and figure that out before it was time for him to ship out. He tosses the tissue paper behind him and finds a small four by six tin and opens it to find a picture of Y/n, his dog tags on and nothing else.

“I didn’t have enough time to pose for a calendar, so these will have to do.” She laughs, struggling to picture him hanging one up where anyone can see. Y/n is pleased to see how pink his cheeks are turning.

“This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” He closes the tin without going through all of the pictures inside, opting to pull her in for a quick kiss now that they’re parked.

“Baby, I didn’t get you anything. I wasn’t sure what we-”

“Come back to me. In a year, I’ll be right here and you’ll be my gift.” She reaches out a hand just to hold his face. Her thumb brushes the edge of his mustache, he turns his head slightly to press a kiss to her thumb.

They get out of the car and Y/n sees a few other couples seemingly doing the same dance of dropping their partners off. Bradley sets down his overstuffed duffle on the ground and backs her into a hug against the car. He pulls her as tight as possible while she runs her nails back and forth on his back. He pulls back to look at her once everyone has gone inside and he knows he’ll be the last arrival.

“I’m gonna look so good for you when you get back.” She teases, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck while his hands grip her hips. She’s leaning against the hood of her car with him placed between her legs. It’s not the right height like the bronco, but it’s working plenty fine.

“Oh jesus.” Bradley sighs, already creating a picture in his head.

“You might wanna have the medical team close by, you might go into heart failure.” She presses a hand flat against his firm chest.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

One more kiss he tells himself, then he can go. Y/n opens her mouth wider to deepen the kiss and Bradley goes one step further by sliding his hands down from her hips to the back of her thighs and pulls her up into his arms. The kiss never breaks, the past few weeks have paid off as practice. She moans into the kiss more and he feels himself harden, he breaks off knowing they can’t go any farther if he’s supposed to walk onto a carrier in ten minutes.

“Bye, baby.” He plants her feet firmly on the ground again before letting go.

“See you in a year, Sailor.”

Hours later when he’s on the carrier and he’s already had three different briefings, he finally shuffles through the pictures back in the safety of his room. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around how she had the time to put this together in time for him to bring them, but damn is he glad.

Next year. Xx

The second picture in the stack has her wrapped up in a stunning red set that he’s dying to unravel. If he had to guess that the real in person sight would’ve been his gift this year if he wasn’t deployed. Next year it is.

Waiting a year to see each other in person is easily the hardest thing either of them has had to face. Communication was sketchy at best for Bradley, but he called as often as they would let him. It’s hard for him to believe they’ve been apart longer than they’ve known each other.

His eyes scan all of the significant others waiting for everyone offloading from the ship. He takes a few steps closer, his duffle heavy in hand. The bright blue of the Bronco is familiar and like a beacon for him towards the back of the group of people, especially when he can see a familiar figure leaning against the front in a red floral dress. He fights the urge to sprint, but there’s an obvious pep in his quick steps.

“Hey, Sailor.” Y/n greets once he’s within earshot.

“Is that my girlfriend?” He asks with a bright grin. This is the first time he’s smiled that wide in nearly a year. He drops his bag at her feet and scoops her up, their lips meet and his hand is protective holding down the bottom of her dress while he spins. Finally, for the first time in nearly a year and it’s somehow better than all the build up that they had been waiting for. Worth the wait.

“That’s a hell of a welcome.” He huffs, slightly out of breath.

“I haven’t even started.” She smirks.

“Both my girls are here to pick me up?” He asks, looking behind her to the bronco he hasn’t seen in just as long. Last time he saw it, it was on base and he left Bob with the keys. He was the only one to be trusted.

“I pulled some strings.” She smiles wildly, “I did debate bringing a boombox to hold up over my head and play Last Christmas.”

He can’t help but throw his head back in a laugh.

“And why didn’t you?” He grins, taking another step closer to box her in against the hood. He needs to remember there are families around because the way she runs her hands up his chest has him ready to mount her then and there.

“They’re real heavy, baby.” She gives his arms a good squeeze for emphasis, “I’ll leave that for you and all those muscles for our next big gesture.”

“Noted.”

“You wanna open your gift early?” She asks, taking on her infamously wicked grin. He looks down her chest and can see a hint of red ribbon. It has to be the same set she took pictures in, pictures he became very familiar over the last twelve months. The pictures now well worn, but it doesn’t matter now that the real thing is back in his arms.

“God, I love you.” He sighs into her neck and she chuckles. It’s the first time she’s heard the words directly from his lips. Not in an email or the phone, directly from him.

“I love you, too.” She smiles, the soft look in her eyes that he only gets is fully on display, “Am I a bad girlfriend if I say I don’t want our first time back together to be special, and I’d rather you rail me in the car the second we’re out of view?”

“How fast can you get in the car?”

#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader

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lavenderspence · 11 months ago

Text

Needy & Embarrassed | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: MDNI, 18+ for suggestive themes, mentions of sex, suggested soft!dom aaron, embarrassment, the team lowkey being little shits

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: You needed him so much, you ended up embarrassing you both.

Request: hey if you're looking for funny requests, what about Hotch's fuckbuddy calling for a booty call at the worst time possible while he's on a case and the bau team hear everything (idk if his phone is broken or it's on his comms or something??) and won't let it go? Feel free to adapt and make it your own! I just love to embarrass that old man and break that stoic wall lol

A/N: okay this was supposed to be funny, but it ended up more of a hoe fic, for the horny girlies (it’s me, i’m a horny girly). It’s very mild though. Pretty please, don't let this baby flop and enjoy!

Requests are CLOSED! | masterlist

The phone rang, once, twice, it kept ringing and he wasn’t picking up.

You’d called him twice in the last 20 minutes, but he hadn’t answered. You knew he was busy, you knew he was working, and tirelessly at that, catching monsters and putting them away, putting them in their place.

But the truth was, you really needed him to put you in your place. You were hot, desperate for him - desperate to touch him, take all of his worries, and have him go pliant against you. Have him touch you, circle all the places that made you sing into the quiet, and make small goosebumps and beads of sweat cover your skin.

You needed his fingers to touch you in the most electrifying way possible, challenge all of the strength and power he had over you.

You needed to feel him push inside, the blunt tip of his dragging against your walls. His head buried at the crook of your neck - panting, licking, teeth scraping against the tender flesh. You maybe even needed him to leave a small bruise or two - it’s not like he hadn’t done it before.

Just thinking about him like that, about the power he held over you and the things you wanted him to do to you in that very moment, was making you hot - your clit pulsing in desperation.

This desire overtook all of your senses - you needed him with a passion. You needed him against you, inside you. You needed to be surrounded by him and his scent. You needed to surrender and let him lead this. And you needed it now.

You redialed his number - you knew you should stop, but all rational thoughts had left your brain when that first fantasy, first scene, had invaded your mind.

The phone rang again, and it rang, and he still wasn't picking up. You started scratching at your cuticles, the desire to take matters into your own hands was strong. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate it though, not at all. He never did - he was just a bit possessive like that.

For a year, as long as you'd known him, he'd been the only one to touch you. You’d met at a bar one late fall evening. He’d been drinking with a group of friends, his team, you had learned later. And you were at the bar with your best friend. The night had stretched, and so had the drinks.

Next thing you knew, a bathroom stall had been occupied, your skirt pushed up and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone. Kisses were swapped, flesh ended up red and muscles deliciously stretched. A lipstick kiss was left on his peck - nice and vibrant against his soft skin.

It was quick, and it was easy. Electric didn’t even begin to describe it. But it was casual, and that’s the way it’s been since then.

Nights well spent - ending up boneless under the sheets was just one call away. And that’s exactly what you needed at that moment. You needed him to make you relax, to see stars, and reach heights you only ever reached with him.

You hadn’t seen him in two weeks, maybe that's where this desire, all the urgency came from. You’d planned to see each other after he returned from a case in Wisconsin, but not 24 hours after his return, they’d caught a case in San Diego and he’d left again.

There was one final way you knew you’d be able to reach him, but you’d never tried it. He’d said it was only for emergencies. But your “emergency” wasn't an emergency, to begin with, it was rather an increasing need for the man who wasn't answering.

You played with the idea, trying to stop yourself from doing something irrational. In the end though, when it came to him and this thing between you, this need, but you couldn’t even think - all you felt was desire, hot, searing want.

You opened your phone, looking for the phone number before your thumb hovered over the call button, and the next thing you knew, you were holding it to your ear.

The round table was full of files scattered around one over the other. The coffee cups were emptied long ago, and no one had bothered to start a new pot. Everyone knew their time was better spent finishing the paperwork and going home.

Maybe that’s why nobody paid attention when the phone in the middle of the table started ringing. Maybe that’s why he hardly paid attention when he answered the call.

“Hotchner.” It came out tired and distracted. He was barely listening, even when the line cracked and a voice finally answered.

“Hi, Aaron.” A purr sounded from the other side, low and seductive, if a bit unsure. “Baby…I really need to see you right now. I'm so worked up, so needy. I can't wait anymore, I need your mouth wrapped-” He rose to his full height, his brain suddenly putting two and two together, his heart pounding.

“Now’s not a good time Y/N.” He rushed to stop you from saying any more, every eye in the room focused on him, and the phone, making them an audience to a far too intimate conversation you shouldn’t be having.

“Look, I know you said I should only call this number in case of an emergency, but Aaron, I cannot stop thinking about your co -” He pressed the end call button at lighting speed, feeling himself get hot, in embarrassment…maybe even in want.

Everyone stood still, silent, holding their breath, eyes wide and curious, and turned towards their boss. Looking, waiting for a reaction, anything.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, to erase your voice and the words you’d said to him - trying to stop himself from the added embarrassment that may follow if he didn’t. Just your voice, the desperation laced into your usual timber was making his body react, and not in an appropriate way.

“Well, that’s one way to go about it. “ Rossi commented, putting an end to the awkward silence. Penelope broke out in laughter, quickly followed by Morgan and Emily, and everyone joined in.

“Poor girl. This does sound like an emergency Hotch,” Emily added before another big laugh followed.

He scoffed and picked up his suit jacket, “We’re done, go home.” He grumbled, before making a beeline for the door.

“And don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it, boss. Girly seriously sounded like she needed that d-” Penelope’s voice followed him, “Too far? Okay.” He heard her murmur but he didn’t stop.

No, determination led him outside the bullpen and down the elevator as he pulled his phone out and found your contact, typing a text.

You better be ready, because this little scene you just caused? It’s going to cost you, baby.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner request #lavenderspence smut

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roosterforme · 11 months ago

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 20 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets the update he's been waiting for. You get something you weren't expecting. Neither of you can tell the other how you're feeling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You drove Bradley's Bronco back to his house, dragged yourself back inside, and climbed back in bed. You cried so hard when you watched him carry his duffle bag into the airport, you had painful hiccups for twenty minutes afterwards. Now you were emotionally drained and on the cusp of a headache, and this was only the first day.

With your cheek on Bradley's pillow, you pulled the covers over your head and took a few deep breaths. He didn't know much about his deployment, but the communication blackout was designed to keep you from learning anything. If something happened to him, it might be weeks before you heard about it. Your heart ached as you thought about how lonely he was going to feel after he made it a point to tell you how much he loved getting mail from your class last time.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you scrambled to get it out.

About to take off. I love you, Gorgeous. I'll let you know when I land.

Well, you had about six hours to kill until you would hear from him again, which felt bad enough. Then seven full weeks after that. You typed back to him with fresh tears in your eyes, and then you tried to sleep, but the hiccups came back. When you moved to the couch, it felt too cold. You were tempted to call Natasha, but if you couldn't even make it a handful of hours without Bradley, you didn't think she would be able to help you.

It would start to get better. It would have to. When your winter break ended, you'd be back in your classroom with your students. You could dive into your lesson plans for the new year. You could focus on teaching. You could do this. Because if you found out the hard way that you couldn't, then you had no business being with Bradley.

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

Bradley was given a tiny room in the barracks on base in Norfolk, and he spent the entire night talking to you on the phone. Literally six hours straight before he passed out, sound asleep, hanging halfway off the bed with his phone connected to the charger. One of the last things he remembered you saying was, "As soon as you know if it's San Diego or Norfolk, let me know. I love you."

The following morning, he was so exhausted, he was practically dizzy as he met with his commanding officer, Admiral Walker, for this new special deployment. Even his arm felt heavy as he saluted Walker in his office. It was barely seven o'clock which equated to four in the morning in San Diego, and he knew it would take him a few days to get caught back up on sleep at this point. But every second of talking to you was worth it.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. Welcome back to the Atlantic Fleet," Walker told him, gesturing to the empty chair in the office.

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, even though he was far less than thrilled to be back in Virginia at all. The prospect of a change of station could not have come at a worse time when he spent the flight from California looking at engagement rings on his phone.

As Bradley sat down, the older man said, "We never wanted to lose you to the Pacific in the first place, so I'm sure you can understand why you'll be staying on the east coast after your seven weeks on the Gerald R. Ford is complete."

His heart sank to his feet, and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Sir?" Bradley asked. "That's it? There's no chance of me returning to North Island?"

When the response he got was a raised eyebrow, Bradley pressed his lips into a line. This man wasn't going to give a shit that he owned a house in Coronado or that he was in love with the most beautiful woman in the world who happened to work in Mira Mesa. Something told him that keeping his mouth shut was the better option right now, even though he felt like punching a hole in the wall and flipping the desk.

Walker shuffled some papers on his desk. "Plans still need to be finalized, but it is our goal, and the goal of the US Navy, to change your station to Norfolk."

The words echoed in Bradley's mind. He couldn't decide if he should tell you about this yet. It wasn't like he had signed paperwork in his hand. Until he did, as far as he was concerned, he was going back to Top Gun and the love of his life. He knew you were stressed and concerned enough as it was, and he didn't want you to have to dwell on this unless it was finalized.

"Once aboard the carrier, mission details will become available to you and the other aviators," Walker informed him. "I have a folder with your bunk assignment and some more information that you can take with you right now. You'll have access to your phone for about another hour, but as soon as you report to the carrier, it will need to be shut down and locked up. Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Before Bradley could even respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Walker heaved a weary sigh as his gaze left Bradley's face, and he barked, "Come in."

Of all the faces he knew from North Island, Bradley wasn't exactly sure if it was a friendly one, but when the door opened, Admiral Simpson came strolling inside in his service khakis. He couldn't fathom why his meeting was being interrupted by Cyclone, but he sat quietly with the folder in his hands.

"Admiral Walker," Beau Cyclone greeted, voice as stern as ever. "You never returned my calls, and red eye flights the week of Christmas are not something I find endearing."

Walker stood behind his desk with all of his accolades hanging on the wall behind him, and Bradley jumped to his feet as well. "Admiral Simpson," Walker replied, voice dripping with disdain. "There was no need for you to fly out in person to release your pilot to my fleet."

Bradley could hear Cyclone's knuckles crack as he watched his eye twitch. He was somehow caught in the middle of this, but it looked like the Top Gun admiral was in no mood to be outmaneuvered and lose a member of his team. Bradley silently goaded him on while he stood there completely still.

"I'm not releasing anyone to you. That's not how this works," Cyclone barked. "If you can't manage your fleet, you don't get to poach from mine."

The admirals seemed to be in a competition to see whose face could get redder. "Admiral Simpson, I'm sure you'll find my rank alone is reason enough for-"

"You do not outrank me," Cyclone interrupted, voice loud but calm. Then he turned toward Bradley with his jaw clenched and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw. You are dismissed. Please board the USS Gerald R. Ford on time for your deployment."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, saluting both men before walking back out into the hallway on slightly unsteady legs. He paused, hoping to hear some more of their conversation or an outright blow up that would give him a clue as to what the fuck was going on, but instead he walked the rest of the way to the barracks to collect his duffle and head to the docks.

With his phone in his hand once again and his bag slung over his shoulder, Bradley called you. He knew it was early and he'd be waking you up, but time was tight now. And your voice was the only thing that would keep him sane at the moment.

"Bradley," you sighed a second later, and he pressed his phone tighter to his ear.

"Baby, I miss you so much," he promised, heart aching. He swallowed hard and decided not to bring up anything that was going on since he didn't have a completely clear understanding of it himself. "I'm about to board the carrier."

He could hear you crying, and he wanted to kick himself. "Just come back safely. That's all I want. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters to me, okay?"

He was having a hard time keeping his own tears at bay. "Me, too. We'll figure out the rest of it later, Gorgeous. Take care of yourself. Write in the journal. And don't forget to check the mail."

"I love you, Bradley!"

"I love you so much."

As soon as he ended the call and turned off his phone, he had to walk through a small building for security screening. It was there that his bag and phone were taken from him. When he exited the other side, his duffle was handed back to him, but his phone was not.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the petty officer told him with a shrug when he glared. "I'll tag it for you and return it when you get back to Norfolk. At least it's not a long deployment."

Bradley couldn't even argue with that. It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. He'd been overseas for a full twelve months at a time when he was younger. This should have felt like nothing, but he knew it would feel like the worst one. He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and started to head for the bunk that would be his for the duration. There was no sense in standing on deck when there was nobody who would be looking for him to see him off.

He made it down two hallways before a loud voice echoed off the walls around him. "Lieutenant Bradshaw." When he turned, Admiral Simpson was heading his way, face so red it was almost purple. Bradley's heart sank.

"Yes, sir?"

The other man pulled his composure together, sighing like an angry bull. "While you will be under the command of Admiral Walker for this deployment, you will fly directly back to San Diego when you return to port in Norfolk. You'll be presented with the paperwork today."

Bradley's jaw dropped open. "I'm returning to the Pacific Fleet, Sir?"

He got one firm nod in response. "I told you last week that I would do what I could to retain you."

This was honestly the best case scenario, and Bradley could feel some of his tension melt away. "You weren't kidding," he mumbled before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Sir. Being in San Diego is important to me."

"Fly safely, Lieutenant. See you in seven weeks," Cyclone barked before turning on his heel and walking toward the ramp back down to the dock.

Bradley pumped his fist in the air. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, spinning on the spot. He would get to go back to the station he preferred in North Island as well as his friends, but most importantly, he would get to return to you. There would be no stress of packing and moving and hoping you were still willing to come with him. He could stay in Coronado.

When he slid his hand into his pocket to get his phone out to call you back, he froze. "God damn it."

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

If waiting for emails and letters was bad before, this was torture. The early days of getting to know Bradley through written notes left you with constant butterflies in your tummy, but now it felt like you were walking around with a lead weight instead. You constantly caught yourself reaching for your phone to text him before setting it back down in frustration.

You hadn't heard from him since before he stepped onto the aircraft carrier, and that was four days ago. Today was New Year's Eve, and at least you had the wine bar with Natasha to look forward to. While you got dressed and ready to go, you couldn't help but put in just the bare minimum amount of effort. What was the point when your boyfriend wasn't even here to give you kisses along your neck and call you Gorgeous? You pouted at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and put the cap on your lip gloss before even using it.

"You look nice," Nat said as you climbed in the front seat of her car. You turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm wearing Bradley's old sweatshirt with a pair of leggings that are starting to get a hole in the crotch."

She started cackling as she pulled away from the curb. "Well, you still look nice."

"Thanks," you said softly, watching the houses go by.

As Nat turned toward the highway to head up to Oceanside, she asked, "How are you making out?"

You pressed your lips together for a few seconds, trying to make sure you weren't going to cry. "I'm just having a hard time being off from work while he's gone. It's... harder than I thought it would be. I can't wait to return to my classroom in a few days."

"I'm sure that will make it easier," she agreed. "You'll be so busy, time will start to fly by. Oh, I forgot to ask if you got any interesting mail at Bradley's house since he left?"

You shook your head. "I barely remember to check the mailbox most days. Why?"

"Don't worry about it," she replied smoothly. "You'll be back to work in a few days, but in the meantime, we've got merlot and chardonnay to keep your mind occupied."

"Sounds like you're talking about two hot French men," you said with a laugh.

"I could be! You don't even know!"

Now both of you were laughing. And you were still laughing when you actually did order a glass of merlot and a glass of chardonnay. You and Nat enjoyed some wine flights and cheese platters, and she regaled you with stories about Bradley from flight school.

"When he was twenty-two, he probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds," she said with a smirk. "He was such a nerd, too. God, it was so bad." You were trying to stifle your laughter as she added, "Once he really started working out and grew the mustache, he thought he was hot shit. He's still a fucking nerd."

"He kind of is," you agreed through your giggles.

"But he's a good one," she promised. "Wears his heart on his sleeve too often, but I don't think he has to worry about you breaking it."

You ran your hand along the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Never."

Once the two of you were filled with cheese and sober enough to get back in the car, you paid for your adventure with the gift card Bradley gave you, only to find out it had five hundred dollars on it.

"Natasha! We need to come back like four more times," you said as you signed the slip.

"I don't see any issue with that," she muttered, leaving cash for a tip. "I think I'll write Bradley an email and thank him for funding girls' day so he can read it when he gets back to Norfolk."

"I think he'd like that."

You started thinking about the journal sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom. Every night before you fell asleep, you'd been pouring your heart and thoughts out into the thing, but even the mention of the word Norfolk had you fretting again. You managed to keep up the conversation with Bradley's best friend as she drove you back to Coronado, but perhaps you should keep most of your things packed after you moved your stuff to his house. What if you had to move to Virginia when the school year ended?

"Thanks for driving," you told her when she pulled up to Bradley's driveway to let you out.

"Anytime," she said, waving you off. "We'll go back up again soon." When you leaned in to give her a hug, she told you, "Don't forget to check the mail."

"Okay."

You weren't sure exactly what her deal was since Bradley couldn't send you anything, but if she wanted you to, then you would. You already promised your boyfriend you'd keep an eye on anything unusual that arrived, so as you walked up to the front door, you took a peek inside the mailbox. Empty. Just like the house. You curled up on the couch with the journal and started to write your daily entry.

I heard from a very reliable source (Natasha) that you were and still are a nerd. I'm going to need to see some pre-stache photos of you when you get home. Your best friend is a wealth of information when you get some wine in her, and I had a great time with her today.

But I miss you. So much. Sometimes it knocks the breath out of my lungs. Your house is too cold and quiet without you here, hogging the couch and eating snacks. I'm looking forward to school starting up in a few days. It'll be a little less lonely when I have eighteen kids telling me what they got for holiday gifts. Of course I'll have to tell them they won't get a visit from their favorite aviator for a while. We'll just be nineteen sad pen pals.

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

On January second, you were working on your lesson plans while wearing Bradley's gym shorts and eating potato chips. Tomorrow you'd get back into a routine with work, but first you were going to allow yourself one last day of being kind of pitiful. You bit off more than you could chew with Bradley, and now you were paying the price.

You sporadically started crying at random times throughout the day, and it was only made worse by the overwhelming feeling of being alone. If you could barely make it a week without hearing from him, how were you going to make random deployments with no communication your lifestyle? Why did you even think you could?

While you were crunching your way through some potato chips, you heard something thump on the front porch. The sound made you jump on the couch, and you set your snack down on the table and crept to the front door. When you peeked outside, there was nobody there, but when you cracked the door open, you saw a box. A fairly large box. Addressed to you.

"Oh my god," you gasped. It was from Bradley. According to the date stamped next to your name, he somehow sent a box from the post office in San Diego last week. "Oh my god!"

You grabbed it and kicked the door shut, almost tripping on your way back to the coffee table. When you tried to claw at the tape, you almost broke your nails. "Scissors," you shouted, running for the kitchen drawer by the sink where your boyfriend kept a random assortment of junk. Then you walked quickly back to the couch and started to cut into the box.

Natasha had to be behind the arrival of the box, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be inside. If Bradley wanted you to have something, he could have simply given it to you before he left. Your heart was pounding as you set the scissors down and looked inside.

"Bradley," you gasped, tears filling your eyes as those familiar butterflies zoomed and swooped around in your belly. You'd been so upset about missing out on his letters, he sent you a whole box of them. There were dozens of envelopes and little treats filling the box nearly to the top, but a neon orange envelope with OPEN ME FIRST written on it caught your eye. You pulled it out of the box and tore into it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm thinking about you right now. Guaranteed. It doesn't matter when you get this box or when you read this note, I'm thinking about how much I love you. And if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming about us eating Thai food on the beach in front of a sunset that is nowhere near as beautiful as you.

I hope you realize there was no way you weren't going to get some letters from me while I'm deployed. I would never let that happen. Somehow, you fell in love with me this way in the first place, and more than anything, I want you to feel as loved as I do. So I filled this box with little notes and long, rambling love letters and things I thought you might like. When you read the individual envelopes, you'll know what to do.

Please fill that journal up for me. I can't wait to read it in seven weeks. I'm missing you like crazy, and I selfishly hope you're missing me just as much. I love you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

With shaking hands, you set the note down on the orange envelope and swiped at your tears. You never dreamed you would meet a man this romantic, but somehow you did, and he became your boyfriend. "Oh, Bradley," you whispered, picking up a stack of envelopes and reading what was written on each one.

Open me when you've had a bad day

Open me when you really want some coffee

Open me when you need a laugh

Open me when you're in bed

Open me when you need a girls' night

Open me with your class

You flopped down onto the couch and kicked your feet in the air. "Bradley!" you shrieked, voice breaking as you started to cry. You hugged the letters to your chest and let the warm feeling of being loved wash over you and fill your heart. He was unbelievable. He was perfect. He was everything you wanted. And somehow you loved him a little more and missed him a little less with this box on the coffee table.

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

He's so romantic. He's taking care of Gorgeous from afar! He's coming home to San Diego, but she doesn't even know it! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @daggerspare-standingby

PART 21

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