Summary: You finally find out the real reason behind Bob’s protective side.
a/n: I saw Thunderbolts* yesterday, and I’m craving more of Lewis Pullman 😛😩
This team gets on your nerves, whether it’s Hangman’s cocky asshole attitude or Roosters constant issues with Mav. Somehow you’re always getting in the middle of something and you’re tired of these damn pushups.
Bob is your weapons systems officer. He’s sweet and nothing but kind when it comes to you. It’s frustrating, though, because you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but you don’t need him to stick up for you.
It feels like he pities you, he challenges hangman when he says asshole things, he defends your choices when Mav questions you. He just doesn’t understand that you can speak for yourself.
These dog-fights with Maverick have almost been the death of you. Maybe you’re an overachiever, but you’ve never needed to keep redoing and redoing exercises. It’s never been an issue for you to work in a team, but Hangman refuses to.
“Fuck!” you slam your hand against the dash of the plane, tears building in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you sigh away the anger, letting your head fall back against the seat. Bob tenses in the seat behind you as you land the plane.
“Y/N? Are you okay?” his voice rings out, bringing you back into reality.
“Yep. Let’s just get this over with.” Your tone is more firm than usual, irritation filling your veins as you exit the vehicle.
Hangman begins spewing his usual bullshit, cockiness radiating off him even though you just lost. Bob argues with Hangman in the background as you ignore them, getting ready to get those damn pushups out of the way.
The only thing you need right now is an ice-cold shower and whiskey on the rocks. You’re pulling your uniform off your shoulders while walking toward the bar, Bob is hot on your heels, along with Rooster and FanBoy.
“How’s it goin’?” Bradley wraps an arm around your shoulder, the familiarity of his touch doing little to ease your annoyance. You shift out of his embrace, not wanting to talk to anyone.
Bob and Rooster make eye contact, shrugging as they notice your strange mood. “You got this one, Bob?” he nods in response, following after you once again.
“Y/N?” he settles down next to you at the bar, shifting his weight as you stare down at the counter. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” You ignore him, taking down your drink in one gulp.
“I’m alright, Bob, just.. Annoyed.” you sigh, glancing at him slightly. He nods in response, fingers fumbling with his beer bottle.
“Did-” he begins before you cut him off.
“We were so close, Bob!” your tone is laced with irritation, “We almost got him and then you got, distracted.” You roll your eyes, sliding the glass to the side.
“I know.. I know and I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have needed to do all those pushups because of my-” you glare at him, everything he does just annoys you, he’s so nice even when you don’t deserve it.
“Why do you take the blame for every little thing?” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you’re hot, irritated, and red hot. “Leave it alone, Bob.” You storm out, admittedly a little childish, but you need the fresh air.
Sitting down on the porch, you breathe in the scent of sea water, the wood creaks under a pair of boots next to you.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to do anything to frustrate you.” his tone is the same soft and gentle one per usual. “If I can do anything, say anything, get you anything, please just let me know. I wanna help, we’re a pair, Y/N,” he says, settling down next to you cautiously.
“Bob, you’re annoying me.” You groan, hating the butterflies in your stomach, and his heart drops as he straightens up. Your words sting him a little more than intended, and you see it in his demeanor.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that..” you trail off chewing on your lip while watching him fumble with his hands.” I didn’t mean to, you dont deserve that, it’s just frustrating to have you constantly siding with me, being so nice, and sticking up for me.” you groan.
“I know you mean well, but I can fight my own battles Bob.” you sigh, shifting uncomfortably as you look him over.
Bob looks down at his hands, the sound of his fingers cracking fills the air as he processes your words. He hates your irritation being directed at him, but he knows you’re right. He’s been a little overprotective lately, and you’re feeling chafed by his kindness. It’s not what he wanted.
“It’s just…” Bob pauses, his mind struggling to find the right words. “It’s not about thinking you can’t fight your own battles. I mean, I know you can.” Bob leans back, resting his head against a pole.
“I know we’re a team, but we haven’t worked together like this before, not on a mission this important.” you sigh, resting your face in your hands. "I just wish you wouldn't make me look so weak in front of everyone, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I need pity, Bob." You shut your eyes, taking steadying breaths.
Bob's eyes widen slightly, finally being able to grasp what is going on. He's been treating you like you're fragile, and you're getting fed up. It hits him like a truck, and the guilt instantly seeps into his bones.
"I know... I know, you're strong," he says, the shame evident in his voice. "I don't think you're weak, and I *don't* pity you." Bob's fingers twist together, frustration with himself bubbling up within him.
Bob rubs his face, he’s always had a crush on you, ever since he laid eyes on you. For Bob, you’re not just a talented pilot and a teammate, you’re smart, strong-willed, independent, and absolutely gorgeous.
His protective nature stems from the fact that he cares about you, a little more than he should. He’s scared of losing you, of getting you hurt, and it shows in his overprotectiveness and constant apologizing.
“I’m sorry, Bob, I shouldn’t have held this against you. Hangman is the one who left us to fend for our own. It’s not your fault.” You lean closer to him, brushing your shoulder against his.
Bob's shoulders tense up for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden apology. Your touch, even as simple as your shoulder against his, has his heart beating faster. He relaxes a little, feeling relieved that you're not as irritated with him anymore.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice soft as he relaxes his tense shoulders, he takes a deep breath. "But I still want to apologize for being so overprotective."
“I guess I just don’t understand why you’re so protective when it comes to *me*,” you scan his face, eyes wandering his features. “I know we’re friends outside of work, but.. I just don’t get it.”
Bob's heart leaps into his throat, his mind racing with nerves. This is the moment, the one he’s been scared of for the past few months. He’s always liked you, but he’s kept it to himself because of his shy nature, and he was afraid of ruining your friendship.
He takes a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he fidgets with them."I…uhh" Bob struggles to find the right words, the truth on the tip of his tongue.
"Yeah?" you question, scooting closer to him, basking in the gentle heat of his body.
Bob's heart pounds in his chest, his cheeks heating up from your close proximity. He can smell your perfume, and the closeness makes his knees weak.
"I… I care about you a lot," he manages, his voice shaky, eyes refusing to meet yours. Bob's hands twitch with the nervous energy that courses through him, his fingers clenching into fists and unclenching rhythmically.
"A lot?" Your cheeks turn a slight pink. "In what way, Bob?"
Bob's words get stuck in his throat, his breath hitches as he looks up at you, your eyes burning into his soul. He swallows hard, unable to hold your gaze, but at the same time craving it.
"In every way imaginable," he breathes out, his heart pounding against his ribcage, "I care about you, more than I probably should." This is it, all or nothing, he can't back out now.
You take in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on everything but him as his words echo in your mind.
Bob watches your face, his heart in his throat as he waits for your response. The silence between you both is loud, making him almost sick to his stomach as he waits for your reaction. He’s so desperate to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, but your expression is unreadable.
"Please say something," he mutters softly, his hand twitching to reach out and touch you, but his fear stops him.
You clear your throat, standing up and stretching, and your heart is racing in your chest. Being with Bob, it's what you want, but what if it changes things or makes both of you unable to go on the mission? Your mind is reeling, and you begin to pace.
Bob follows your movements with his gaze, your nervous behavior making his heart ache. He knows he messed up, he should have kept his stupid feelings to himself. Now he's just made everything awkward.
With you moving around so much, unable to sit still, he stands up as well, worry etched across his face. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't-" his voice is trembling as he tries to apologize, but you simply start pacing.
You shake your head, "You don't need to apologize, Bob." Turning back to him, you take a few steps until you're right in front of him again.
Bob stands still, his heart practically beating out of his chest, as you walk closer to him. Your proximity takes his breath away, and he can’t tear his eyes off your face. All he can focus on is your every move, the way your lips are slightly parted, and how your cheeks are tinged pink.
He has to fight the urge to pull you into his arms and hold you close, but the nervousness in his veins keeps him rooted to the spot. "Y/N..” he breathes out, his voice low and unsteady.
"Bob," you whisper, "Please.." Your words, your simple plea, are all it takes for Bob to snap. His brain short-circuits as every thought about consequences and missions leaves his mind, replaced with one sole desire. *You.*
In the blink of an eye, his hands find your waist, and in another, he's pulling you flush against him. His lips crash into yours with a desperate need, as every pent-up feeling, every piece of suppressed desire is unleashed.
Your hands reach up to his face, gripping his face as you pull him closer, desperate for more.
Bob is completely lost in the moment, his hands exploring your waist, your back, your face, trying to touch every inch of you. Your touch ignites something within him, and his kiss deepens as he presses his body against yours.
He pushes you backward until your back hits a wall, his hands gripping your hips as he cages you against the surface, his kiss still feverish, hungry, desperate.
You pull away reluctantly, gasping in a few breaths before speaking. "Bob, we need to go.. I *need* you," you whisper, kissing his face and neck. Bob lets out a soft groan at your words, the feeling of your kisses sending tremors through him, the need in your voice making his knees weak.
"Go... where?" he breathes out, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, afraid that if he lets go of you, you'll disappear. He wants you badly, the mission forgotten in a haze of desire.
"I have a place," you practically moan, enjoying the desperation in his touch. All coherent thoughts leave Bob's mind as your moan is like music to his ears. He practically whimpers against your touch, the need for you nearly overwhelming.
"Lead the way," he mutters, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your neck before reluctantly releasing his grip. Even though he's letting go of you, his hand takes yours, unwilling to lose physical contact.
With your hand in his, Bob follows you to the secluded spot you've chosen, his heart racing in anticipation. The gentle squeeze of your hand reassures him that this is what you want, too. Once you're both inside, the door clicks shut, and the tension in the room thickens.
You turn to face him, the hunger in your eyes matching his own. His hands trace the curve of your waist, pulling you closer as your mouths find each other again in a passionate kiss that leaves you both breathless.
With no more words needed, you both stumble over to the bed, the need for each other overwhelming. Bob gently lays you down, his eyes never leaving yours as he starts to unbutton your shirt. His touch is reverent, his every move filled with a passion that has been building for so long.
You help him, pulling his shirt off over his head, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against yours. As the fabric of your clothes falls away, Bob’s eyes roam over your bare skin, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that’s been building.
His hands rough yet gentle, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down your neck as he unclasps your bra. The coolness of the air meets your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine. He worships your body, his hands exploring every inch with a passion that leaves you trembling with anticipation.
The feel of his bare chest against yours is electric, his skin smooth and warm as he kisses his way down to your stomach. You gasp as his fingers find their way under the band of your pants, unbuttoning them with trembling hands. The touch of his skin against yours sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch into his touch.
His eyes meet yours, questioning, and when you nod, he pulls your pants down, exposing you to his hungry gaze. His eyes widen with awe, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight of you, fully exposed and desiring him.
His thumb brushes against your inner thigh, sending a rush of heat to your core, making you whimper. His touch is soft yet demanding as he explores you, his eyes never leaving yours, drinking in every reaction you give him.
You're both lost in the moment, the only sound in the room being the ragged breaths and soft moans that escape your lips. Bob leans in, his mouth replacing his fingers, and your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure.
His name becomes a chant on your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your legs wrapping around his head as you pull him deeper into your warmth. The intensity of the moment reaches its peak as Bob's tongue meets your center, his strokes firm and precise.
You moan deeply, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the pleasure builds. He's relentless, his every move calculated to push you closer to the edge. His hands are everywhere, caressing your breasts, teasing your nipples until they're peaked and sensitive.
The sound of your breathy pleas and the wetness of your desire driving him wild. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You're soaking wet for him, and the scent of your arousal fills the air, making him crave you even more. His mouth is a masterpiece of pleasure, teasing and sucking, swirling and flicking, until you're panting his name and your body is tightening around his tongue.
You're close, so close, and just when you think you can't handle it anymore, he slides a finger inside you, the pressure inside you building until it snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.
You scream out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.
Bob pulls away, his face flushed and his eyes dark with lust, as he watches the aftershocks of your climax ripple through your body. He quickly removes his pants, his cock standing at full attention. The sight of him sends a fresh wave of heat through you, making you ache for him.
He positions himself over you, and with one swift thrust, he's inside, filling you completely. Your legs wrap around him as he begins to move, his hips pumping in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart.
The feeling is indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain, of need and satisfaction, as he stretches and fills you over and over again. Your eyes lock onto his, and it's as if you're seeing him for the first time, really seeing the depth of his feelings for you, the desire and love that he's been hiding.
The friction is perfect, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with every movement. You rock your hips up to meet his, desperate to get even closer. His hands are everywhere, holding you down, caressing you, making sure you feel every inch of him.
Your bodies move in a dance that's been choreographed by months of tension and unspoken desires. Each stroke is a promise, each touch a declaration of his feelings.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another deep kiss, your tongues tangling as your bodies move together in perfect sync. The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mixing with the desperate moans and gasps that escape both of your mouths. Bob's pace quickens, driven by the passion that fuels him, and you can feel him getting closer to his release.
You're so lost in the sensation that you don't even notice when the second orgasm starts to build, creeping up on you like a thief in the night. It takes you by surprise, stealing your breath away as it crashes over you, making your body tighten around him. Bob groans into your mouth, his release following closely behind, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his warmth.
You collapse onto the bed, your bodies still entwined, hearts racing, and skin slick with sweat. The room is silent except for the sound of your panting breaths, both of you trying to come down from the high of finally giving in to the passion that's been burning between you. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, grounding, as you bask in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy.
Bob pulls out gently, collapsing beside you, and you roll over to face him, your eyes searching his for any signs of regret. But all you see is love and satisfaction, mirroring your own emotions. You reach out, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and he smiles at you, the tension of the day forgotten as you both drift into a contented silence, the kind that comes from knowing you've found something real in a world full of danger and uncertainty.
Bob's mind is spinning as he shifts to lie there next to you, completely stunned by the intensity of what just happened. His fingers gently trace patterns on your skin, a soft smile playing on his lips as he takes in the blissful expression on your face. Every nerve ending in his body is buzzing, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through him.
"That was..." he finally manages to breathe out, his voice thick with emotion, "That was amazing." Bob's heart still races, his head reeling from the intensity of the connection between you both.
You nod breathlessly, resting your face on his chest, cuddling close against him.
When a car accident leaves you with custody of your three younger siblings, your world crumbles. Navigating your own grief, funeral arrangements, and the children depending on you - it feels like there's no way out. But if there's one thing Bradley Bradshaw knows about, it's loss. A new position brings him back to San Diego, and back into your life right when you need it most. (from this anon request)
warnings: parental death, angst, hurt/comfort, sad dad bradley, w/c: 10k
for my 1k follower celebration! thank you so much to everyone who's ever read and supported my fics <3
It’s been seven hours since your parents died. Seven hours since the truck collided with your dad’s Chevrolet, on a freeway just two miles from your childhood home. They had been going out for dinner, their first night alone since the twins had been born.
They were stopping off at The Hard Deck to drop a birthday present off for Maverick, neighbour and long-time friend, before heading across town to hit the new Thai place that had just opened up.
At least, that’s what the babysitter had told the cops.
Your mom had been coming to visit you in San Francisco just next weekend. Want some time with my biggest girl, she’d said. Especially since we haven’t been around much recently, what with Olivia and Molly.
But now they’re gone, and your entire childhood resides only in your memory.
Never again will you go to a concert with your dad, continually teasing about his teenage girl taste, and the fact that you’re pretty sure he likes Lana Del Rey more than you do. You’ll never have coffee with your mom, gossiping about distant family members who neither of you have seen in years.
In a single instant, life has become abstract - you’re not sure who you are without them. You’re not even sure you want to find out.
The traffic’s slowed down, now that it’s after midnight. You’ve been driving since you got the news, knuckles white as you grip the steering wheel.
One second you were applying lipstick, getting ready to head out for a date. You’d met the guy on Hinge, and it was unlikely to go anywhere, but you’d been trying to force yourself to get back in the game. It felt like all your friends were starting to settle down, find their person. You’ve not had much luck on that front. Three months here, six months there - it never went anywhere.
You weren’t committal enough. Too unwilling to change. You’d heard it all.
Now all you can think about is your horrifically inappropriate shade of lipstick, and the fact that you’re never going to see your mom again.
You think you might be sick.
*****
You had been an accident. And unfortunate, but indisputable fact. Sure, your parents loved each other - but they certainly weren't planning for a baby at eighteen.
Fresh out of high school, they’d made the best with what they had - a tiny house in the San Diego suburbs, all while scrambling to find jobs. It’s a decision that would forever intwine your lives with the Bradshaw family.
Living in the slightly better house at the end of the street, Nick and Carole Bradshaw were approximately a year ahead of your family. Eleven months earlier, they’d had Bradley, and while they were slightly older than your parents, they were very much all in the same boat.
You don’t have many memories of Nick. Dying just after Bradley’s fourth birthday, you were barely even three. The last time you’d seen him had been at Bradley’s party - you’d spent the entire last hour perched on his shoulders, giggling as he chased Bradley around the back garden.
He seemed like a good man. A good husband. A good father.
But life went on, and your parents stayed incredibly close with Carole. Eventually both of you moved to another neighbourhood in San Diego, beside Bradley’s godfather Maverick, and his wife and stepdaughter, Penny and Amelia.
Things were good.
You don’t remember exactly when you became aware of your parents trying for another baby. There had been vague references to getting a sibling throughout your childhood, but when nothing ever came to fruition, you just shrugged it off. Bradley didn’t have any siblings, and neither did you. You didn’t need siblings when you had each other.
Each day was spent in your backyard or the Bradshaw’s, playing make-believe until you were exhausted.
Even in the throes of puberty, where Bradley was finding his footing in high-school, while you were still in middle school, he’d always make time for you. Would never let his cooler, older friends make fun of you, or make you feel less than.
You’re sure he must have caught his own flack for it, but he didn't let you see it.
Your teenage years passed, and still no sibling. Eventually, words like ‘infertility’ and ‘IVF’ began to get thrown around. Suddenly, nights when your mom was inconsolable became far more understandable.
It seemed like you were meant to be a three-person family.
Finally, they got Adam. Born three months before your twenty-first birthday - the jokes had made themselves.
It had been the last round of IVF they were going to have. It was too taxing, emotionally and physically, to keep going. Especially when you were coming of an age where you might want your own kids in a few years. Your parents didn’t want your kids to have aunts and uncles their own age.
You loved Adam. You did. You do. It’s just always been quite difficult to bond with a kid twenty years your junior. You were across the country at college for all of his major milestones, barely seeing your parents, nevermind anyone else.
It was also at this point that you lost contact with Bradley.
He’d joined the Navy, hellbent on following in Nick Bradshaw’s footsteps after Carole’s death. You wrote occasionally, sent Christmas and birthday cards, but it was never like it used to be.
That had been enough for your parents. Your family complete, mom and dad content with a son and a daughter.
If the cards had fallen differently, Adam might have been your only sibling.
Against every single odd, your mother found out she was pregnant again on her forty-second birthday. After fifteen years of fertility treatments, they conceived naturally just two years after stopping trying.
Oh how funny the universe can be.
Shock had quickly multiplied when the first ultrasound scan showed twins. You wanted to be happy for them. Really, truly. Your parents were finally getting the big family they’d once dreamed of.
You just wished it didn’t feel like you were being replaced in your own home. Your childhood bedroom had been immediately converted to a nursery, like there was no longer a place for you.
You understood. After some tears, you came to the conclusion that if losing your bedroom in a city you didn't live in was the worst thing in your life, you should be grateful. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt a little.
Visits thinned, relegated to holidays and summers, even after college. You moved back to the West Coast, opting for San Fran over Diego, and life has been fine. A little boring, not so great on the dating end, but fine. When you’d hoped for a change, this had certainly not been what you were wanting.
At least the kids are okay. A brief reprieve amongst the chaos. You’ve been on the phone to Maverick - he and Penny are staying with them until you make it there.
“Bradley’s here too.”
There was a name you hadn’t heard for a while.
You're not even sure when you thought about him last.
The roads start to blur together, until finally you're on your street. You haven't been home since Christmas.
The door opens as you pull into the driveway. You half-thought the tears would come as soon as you saw the house, but everything seems dry.
Bradley steps out, making his way over to you. He pauses for a second, allowing you to make the decision, before you throw yourself into his arms. His hands settle on your waist, and you let out a small sob as you bury your face into the crook of his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” He murmurs, voice deeper than you remember. With all his deployments, the last time you saw him was Christmas a few years ago. His first after Carole had died.
Other than the occasional Instagram post, you have no idea what he’s up to these days. You hadn’t even known he was even living in San Diego again.
He looks good. Really good. Sporting a moustache that would look ridiculous on anybody else, he’s filled out in a way that makes your throat constrict slightly. The Navy has served him well.
“A-are the kids okay?”
“Penny and Mav put them to bed,” He replies. “The twins are fine, but uh… Adam was pretty upset. He knew something was going on from the babysitter - we wouldn’t have told him straight away otherwise, but things were so confused, and-”
“Thank you,” You whisper, pulling back. “For being there for them. I-I didn’t even know you were in town.”
“For the past few months. Moved into mom’s house.” He gestures at the near identical house next door.
It’s a horrible club to be joining. That of the dead parents. But the smallest, most selfish part of you is endlessly relieved that he knows how you feel. How he might be the only one who does.
“Was the drive okay?”
“Hm?” You murmur, distracted by the windows upstairs. So many memories flash through your mind - sneaking out to go to parties with Bradley at sixteen, sitting and stargazing with your dad on the 4th of July. Or that time Bradley fell trying to climb up, and had been in a cast all summer.
“The drive? You must be exhausted.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m okay,” You dismiss, making shaky steps into the house. It looks exactly as you remember it. Mav and Penny sit in the living room, faces grave. After Nick, and then Carole, you can tell they’re vastly unprepared to bury another set of friends.
“Oh, kid,” Maverick begins, wrapping you in a hug. “I’m sorry.”
Something about Maverick’s embrace, the way he cups your head against him reminds you painfully of your dad. “I-I don’t know what to do,” You cry. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Don’t worry about any of that right now,” Penny breathes, tears staining her own cheeks. “We’ll help you with whatever you need.”
A glass of water is pushed into your hand, a kiss pressed to your head, and you’re sat in the living room.
Chat is stilted, dancing around the obvious, and soon you begin to insist that they all head home, get some sleep. If it weren’t for the fact that they’re a maximum of fifty meters away at any given time, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to convince any of them to leave.
It’s only when you agree to Mav and Bradley coming over in the morning to help with arrangements, while Penny helps with the kids, that they filter out.
Soon, you’re alone, and the tears return in waves.
Choked sobs that had hidden themselves in the presence of others, now nearly bringing you to your knees.
This isn’t right.
Your dad should be on the couch, watching Cheers re-runs, while your mom knits and pretends that she isn’t watching (she always is).
The kids upstairs should have a real adult looking out for them. Not a girl, barely out of grad-school, who regularly forgoes breakfast because she can’t be bothered making it for herself.
You get very little sleep that night - wandering through to the kid’s rooms every hour or so to make sure they’re okay. Outside of the occasional babysitting gig as a teen, you have no idea what to do with anyone under the age of ten. You opt for the couch in your parent’s bedroom, rather than their bed.
Still unmade from the night before, you don’t think you can bring yourself to sleep in it just yet. It still smells of your mom’s shampoo, your dad’s aftershave.
It’s such a strange sensation, to be somewhere that should be so familiar. Instead, it’s like you’ve wandered into another universe, one where your parents are dead and nothing makes sense anymore.
*****
Adam’s forgotten about yesterday’s incidents by the time morning comes round. He prances into the bedroom, face dropping into a frown when he sees the bed empty.
“Hey, kid,” You murmur, opening your arms for a cuddle.
“Where’s Mommy?” He asks, chewing on one of his fingers as he allows you to pull him onto your lap.
You swallow, trying desperately to come up with a way to tell your four-year-old brother that both his parents are dead. “There was an accident yesterday, and Mommy and Daddy got really hurt.” A lump forms, and you pray that you can keep it together long enough to get through this. “The doctors weren’t able to help them, and they died.”
There’s a moment of quiet, as Adam considers your words. “They’re not here?”
“They’re not here,” You repeat quietly, a tear trickling down your cheek. “But I’m going to look after you and the girls, okay? And Aunt Penny and Uncle Mav. S’ okay to be sad.”
“Mommy’s not coming back?”
You shake your head, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “No, honey. I’m so sorry.” A whimper sounds from the nursery. The girls are waking up. “Why don’t you head downstairs, and I’ll grab Liv and Molly, and I’ll make you pancakes?”
Seemingly placated, Adam nods and heads downstairs, while you try and wrangle the twins. It’s a challenge, but you manage to get them into their highchairs, just as the door rings.
It’s Bradley, looking far too put-together for 6:45am. “I uh, saw that the curtains were open - figured you were up. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet,” You admit, leading him to the kitchen. “Kind of just feels like I’m playing pretend.”
Bradley greets Adam with a wave, and drops a kiss to each of the girls’ heads. It feels so natural that a guilt tugs at your stomach. Bradley isn’t even family, and yet he feels far more familiar to these kids than you do.
“It’ll feel like that for a while,” He replies. “You want me to make breakfast?”
“Oh. I was just going to make pancakes.”
“Are you any better at cooking than you were as a teenager?” Bradley asks, the smallest smile tugging at his mouth.
Despite everything you laugh, shaking your head with your lip between your teeth.
“Got it. I’ll cook then.”
“I think I can survive pancakes,” You protest.
“Okay, grieving lesson 101. Learn to accept help.” His voice is firm, and you find yourself nodding. “Mav’ll stop by later - he’s got all the lawyer’s numbers, and funeral planning. Believe me, last thing you want to be doing is thinking about catering right now. Let us handle the paperwork, and we’ll ask you about anything important, okay?”
“Thanks, Brad.”
You’re overwhelmed by their presence, their willingness to drop everything to be here. A comfortable silence falls, Adam chattering nonsense in the background as Bradley cooks.
“Bradley?” You ask.
“Yeah?”
“When does it start to get easier?”
He looks over at you, with a candour that makes your heart sink. “My mom? I think it took me about a year.”
“That’s a long time,” You whisper.
“I know.” He reaches out, almost tentatively, taking your hand. His thumb rubs circles onto your palm. “But you’ll get through it.”
“Can you maybe help with changing Adam’s insulin sensor? It needs done every two weeks, but he doesn’t like swapping them out.”
Bradley nods. “Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”
“Just chat to him, keep him distracted.”
You and Bradley make an excellent team. Bradley keeps him talking about baseball the entire time, allowing you to swap his sensor with relatively few tears.
It’s one of the only things you feel like you can manage. Ever since Adam got diagnosed last year, your parents made sure that everyone in the family was up-to-date on what to do, how to keep him safe. Everyone knows where the insulin and glucagon can be found, and how often his Libre sensor needs changed.
In an attempt to get you all out of the house, Bradley suggests a walk to the local park. He’s got Adam on his shoulders, and you push the twins.
It gets your mind off of everything for a little bit, and for that you're grateful.
You wonder what it looks like from the outside. If people assume that you’re married, had kids straight out of college. You suppose they must. You don’t hate the idea as much as you should.
*****
“I guess, what we’re saying is that you have options,” The lawyer says, sitting back in her chair. You, Maverick, Penny and Bradley are crowded into the cramped office. “You’re the legal guardian of the kids, but we understand that’s a lot for a twenty-five-year-old to deal with. As you’ve discussed already, Pete and Penelope would be willing to take them-”
“I’m going to keep them,” You interrupt. It’s been a decision that’s eaten away at you for the past week. It was never a question of adoption - you couldn’t ever do that to your own siblings. But after a particularly hard night, when Penny had offered it to you, a tiny part of yourself had wondered.
Wondered if it would be so bad, for them to grow up with two parents, who were far more capable and experienced than you are. Penny’s a far better mother than you could ever hope to be - maybe you’d be doing them a favour?
Maybe everybody would be better off if you weren’t in charge.
Then you’d stood in the nursery, after the twins had fallen asleep, with tears streaming down your face, and realised that you couldn’t give them up. Not for anything. You owed it to them, and your parents, to try.
Maverick nods approvingly. “We’ll be here for whatever you need, kid. Whenever you need it.”
“I’ve got a permanent position in San Diego now,” Bradley adds. “I’ll still have to ship out occasionally, but I’ll be here too.”
The rest of the afternoon is spent going over will logistics, funeral arrangements, and adoption papers. Something about health insurance means you need to formally adopt the kids, a process that’ll take a while.
But with Adam and his diabetes, it’s something that has to be done.
Slowly but surely, things seem to be becoming a little more manageable. Maverick and Penny explained any of the financial aspects you don't understand, while Bradley's hand stays firmly on your knee the entire meeting, tracing soothing patterns onto your skin.
*****
You don’t fall apart until the tenth. Two weeks, four days and three hours after your parents die. The funerals are over, the flowers are dying, and now there’s just grief. Raw, unfiltered grief that’s been pushed under your need to care for the kids.
But tonight, Adam has been asking questions you don’t know how to answer. Crying tears you don’t know how to soothe, sobs only ceasing when Bradley arrives after work.
You busy yourself with the girls, trying to soothe Liv’s sore throat while Molly does everything she can to avoid a bath - all while pretending that Adam’s rejection doesn’t bother you.
The fact that Bradley’s the sun, moon, and stars to him - and you’re just the poor mother substitute. The perpetual bad guy. The one who won’t let him see Mommy and Daddy.
You hold it together for approximately ten minutes after the twins go down. Standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island, a small sob escapes as you wrap your arms round your shoulders. Trying to ground yourself, stop your head from pounding so viciously.
It’s only when you hear Bradley’s footsteps padding down the stairs that you swallow, turning to the mountain of dishes piling up in the sink and busying yourself. He’s just spent the last hour comforting Adam. You don’t want him to feel responsible for you too.
“Is he asleep?” You ask, voice far thicker than you’d like.
“Yeah - took some convincing, but he’s out.”
“There’s some pasta in the fridge, if you want to take it for dinner,” You manage, back still pointedly turned.
“You don’t want me to stay?” You wish you could unhear the hurt in his voice, the fact that he’s the only reason you’ve survived the past few weeks, while you can’t even look him in the eye.
There’s nothing you want more than for him to stay. To let this unsteady rhythm you’ve both concocted continue for as long as its able. Until he decides to move on.
Because he will. The kindness he’s shown you is immeasurable, and you’ll never be able to thank him enough, and yet you know it must be finite. One day, he’ll meet a girl, fall in love, and you’ll go back to just childhood best friend.
“Is everything okay?”
You’ve been quiet for too long. Bradley’s perceptive. He always has been. A normally endearing trait, you surprise even yourself when a cry slips from your lips.
A dam shatters, and the sobs wrack your body.
Bradley’s across the room in seconds, pulling you into him. His arms circle your waist, strong and steady as he keeps you upright. Just like he’s been doing since the crash.
“I don't think I can do this,” You whisper, voice hoarse. “I can barely look after myself. Nev-nevermind them.”
"I know it's hard," He murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple. "You're doing the hardest fucking thing in the world, kid. You've gotta give yourself some grace. They were your parents too."
"I-if I let myself feel it, I don't know where it'll end. I don't know if it'll end." Another cry bubbles up, and you bury your face in his shoulder. "I'm so scared, Bradley."
“Mav and Penny and I, we’re here for whatever you need, okay? Anything.”
You nod, trying to quell your tears. “Y-you’ve done so much already. I can’t ask you to do any more-”
“You aren’t,” He replies. “I’m offering. I love those kids, I love you all. I'd do anything for you.”
Your grip on him tightens just slightly, needing to ground yourself.
“Do you have the life insurance payout yet?”
You detach from him slightly, hands dropping to his forearms. “I used it to buy the house. There was still a lot of the mortgage to pay off. A-and I couldn’t afford the payments without it. The last thing they need is to be moved, on top of everything else-”
“Hey,” He interjects, voice soft. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, okay? You’re doing what you need to. Go run yourself a bath, try and relax for a bit.”
“I need to do the dishes, and make lunch for tomorrow-”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got it.” Your protests die on your lips. A bath does sound nice. “We can watch a movie or something, after you’re done.”
You wipe the last of your tears, and press a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
He’s going to make someone incredibly happy someday.
The thought leaps into your head unprompted, and you swallow it back. You don’t need more reminders of how temporary this is.
*****
The next day is even worse. Adam’s doing his best moody teenager impression, while Molly’s contracted Olivia’s cold.
Penny spends the afternoon, and makes things slightly more bearable, but her and Maverick have theatre tickets that night. She offered to cancel, but you’d insisted they go. They needed some normality too. It’s easy to forget that Mav and Penny have known your mom and dad since their twenties. They’re grieving almost as much as you are.
You barely make it to seven before your tears start too. It’s all you can do to dial Bradley’s number.
“Is everything okay?”
“I-I,” You stammer, hardly able to even get the words out. “I don’t know what to do. T-the girls are sick, and I can’t get any of them down, and I don’t know what I’m doing-”
“I’ll be over in a second.”
The phone cuts off, and true to his word, the bell goes in approximately half a minute. You’ve never been more grateful to see someone in your life. You’re sure you must look like a total mess, hair unbrushed and mascara dripping down your cheeks, but Bradley doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes Olivia from your arms and presses a kiss to your forehead. He greets Adam, who looks considerably happier to see Bradley than he was to see you, and whispers a couple of words into his ear.
You can’t make out what he says, but Adam immediately softens, before approaching you and offering a hug.
“Why don’t you get Adam, and I’ll get the girls?” Bradley offers, and you nod gratefully.
Whatever Bradley said worked wonders, and Adam’s far more amenable to bedtime than he was before.
It takes Bradley a little longer, and a lot more sniffling, but forty-five minutes he appears down the stairs, and all is quiet again. “Come on,” He murmurs softly. “You’re exhausted.”
“It’s only eight,” You reply, voice barely more than a whisper. “I haven’t made myself dinner yet.”
“Sounds like a night for pizza in bed then,” He replies.
And so, twenty minutes later, Bradley’s tipping the delivery guy, before clambering into bed with you. It’s the best meal you’ve had in your life, tucked into his side as some cheesy rom-com plays in the background.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Bradley asks, eyebrow raised.
“How are you so good with them? So natural? It feels like I make the wrong choice at every possible turn.”
He shrugs slightly, pulling you in closer. “It’s easy when they aren’t yours. I’m a novelty to them - if they were my kids, you’d be the exact same.”
You’re not sure you agree, but you nod, placated with his answer.
It doesn’t take long to drift off to sleep, still curled up against him. And the next morning when you wake up to a solid shape beside you, an arm draped across your waist, your heart soars.
*****
You know you're being unreasonable. Bradley's been the best thing that's ever happened to the kids - endlessly patient, full of energy, always down to play. He's shouldered things you wouldn't expect from a close relative, much less a distant family friend.
When there was a problem with the house insurance, Bradley spent three hours on the phone to agents, working out a plan that worked best for you.
Every Saturday, when another week passes and your parents slip further from your grasp, he turns up at 7pm on the dot, armed with casserole and ice cream. He takes Olivia from your arms, and soothes them all to bed with his stories and tales, allowing you the briefest moment of reprieve.
For the first month, he'd end each night holding you while you cried, pressing soft butterfly kisses to your forehead as he promised better things. Promised that things would get easier, that he'd be there for whatever you needed.
But it can't last forever. Made starkly obvious by the woman in the park today.
You’d been having a picnic, while Bradley was continuing Adam’s baseball education. From your perspective, it was just throwing a ball back and forth, but they’d both insisted there was considerable technique and skill to it. You’d taken the girls to go get ice-cream, and had come back to a woman chatting to Bradley, while Adam busied himself with a mitt. You couldn’t hear what was going on, but Bradley smiled, shook his head, and she went on her way.
Turning back round, he was immediately by your side to help with the ice-creams, hand reaching out to push a stray hair back from your face.
You understand the thought process. She saw an attractive guy, with a cute kid, and no ring. You'd have taken those odds with Bradley if you were her.
And when he turned her down, you had no idea what to think. The last thing you want to do is hold him back. Keep him from any kind of happiness.
Even if it killed you a little, you'd be thrilled for him. Even if it meant you became relegated to his past, meant only for occasional visits and cards at Christmas.
Maybe you'd find someone else too. Someone that liked kids, didn't mind some baggage. Maybe this ache in your chest won't last forever.
You can tell he knows something's up when he slips into bed wordlessly, clicking the light off as he goes. You've been lying on the edge for the past twenty minutes, cheek turned out to the window as you try and quell the awful guilt festering low in your stomach.
Bradley's freshly twenty-six. The last thing he wants is to be tied down to three kids. To you.
You're being selfish with him. And it breaks your heart.
But he's in your bed tonight, and maybe that's enough for now.
When you shuffle over towards the midline, far closer to him than you've ever dared before, he finally speaks. "You alright?"
"Can't sleep," Is all you can muster.
"C'mere," He murmurs, voice gravelly as he reaches out for you. You let him loop a hand round your wrist, pulling you across the bed until you're settled against his chest. It feels so terribly right that you want to bawl. Instead, you press your face into the crook of his shoulder and let out a shaky breath.
His arm is draped across your waist, and you're almost chest-to-chest. It's the closest you've been since childhood.
"Better?"
"Better."
*****
Bradley gets orders to deploy the following week. It’s only three months, hardly anything by Navy standards, but the idea of going that long without him makes you feel a little ill. You don’t remember the last time he spent the night in his own house. Each night you somehow manage to get closer, waking up fully intertwined as the kids throw themselves on top of you both.
The house feels too big without him, even with three children racing around.
You both made the decision not to bring the kids to base to say goodbye. After the year they’ve had, neither of you want to make a big deal of Bradley’s leaving. Instead, last night he came home armed with three build-a-bears, each one with a sound-bite of him singing.
American Pie, Adam’s favourite song, much to Bradley’s delight.
Shake It Off for Olivia.
And that godawful new Benson Boone song for Molly.
The idea of Bradley Bradshaw standing in build-a-bear, singing quietly into a little machine, just so the kids have something to remember him by, makes you want to sob. If Bradley Bradshaw’s out to ruin all men for you, he’s doing an excellent job.
Penny said her goodbyes to Bradley at the house, before Maverick drove you both out to base. Now, you’re standing on the tarmac, watching on as Bradley and Pete say their goodbyes. As soon as Maverick’s pulling back, he suddenly spots someone across the lot that he’s got to go say hello to. A squeeze of your shoulder as he passes, and you’re left with Bradley.
“You'll write?” He knows the answer, but when this is the last time he’s going to see you until November, he’d like the reassurance.
“Every day,” You murmur. “I-we’re really going to miss you, Brad.”
He reaches out, pulling you in for a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you too. But it’ll be over in a flash. Promise.”
You somehow can’t imagine that being true. “Stay safe. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“When am I ever stupid?” He asks, smiling until he sees your expression. “Don’t answer that.”
Too quickly, it’s time for him to go. “See you soon, sweet girl.”
And then he’s gone.
Bradley wonders how you're getting on today. If Adam's talent show went well, or if the twins are still teething.
They'll be eighteen months by the time he gets back. Not much older, in the grand scheme of things, but he'll know.
At that age, consistency is everything. Adam's old enough to know Bradley, understand that he's going away for a little while - but Olivia and Molly? He might return a complete stranger.
Sitting in the barracks, head in his hands, he wonders if this is how his dad felt every time he left him and his mom behind.
He knows what Jake would say if he were here. Something snarky, probably. A comment about how they aren't even your kids, nevermind his. That Bradley Bradshaw must be the only bastard on earth who can land himself with diaper duties before first base.
He slips the picture out of his wallet. The one at the picnic. Nat had taken it, the five of you all crammed onto one blanket. Adam's clambering over Bradley's shoulders, and Olivia sits on his lap, reaching up for her brother. You've got Molly, smile wide as you watch the scene before you. Your eyes are on the kids, but his are very much on you.
A guilt festers in him, but he feels happier than he has in years. Ever since his mom died he’s felt totally aimless, drifting from one mission to another, little care as to whether he lived or died. Now, the idea of not going home to you all at the end of the day feels inconceivable.
It just makes him feel terrible that four people had to lose their parents for that to happen.
"Bradshaw," A voice greets, knocking him out of his trance. "How's it going?"
Seeing the picture clasped in Bradley's hand, Reuben steps forward to take a look. "Cute kids. This your first deployment since having them?"
They're not mine. They're my best friend's siblings, but I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her, and I think it would kill me if I don't get to see those kids grow up.
"Uh, yeah. It is."
“Ah, first one’s always the hardest. But it’s so much better getting to go home at the end of it. I used to go home to an empty house after deployments-” Other than a visit to Penny and Maverick, that had been Bradley’s experience with deployments. “-and let me tell you - going home to your kids after a few months? Best feeling in the whole world. I cried the last time I saw my wife on the tarmac.”
Bradley imagines what life would be like if you were his wife. If, when he gets home, he’d be able to pull you close, and kiss you until your lips are pink and swollen, before heading home to the kids.
He wonders what your own kids would look like. His and yours. He doesn’t even know if you’d want that now, not with the three you’ve already got, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy, he’d be happy too. In whatever form, whatever capacity that turns out to be.
*****
The babysitter’s left, and the house is quiet. You’d managed to transfer your work to the San Diego offices, but unfortunately that means two days a week in the office. You’re still grateful that you can stay at home with the girls most of the time, but you’re starting to feel it. Balancing work and the kids, all while worrying about Bradley every day is taking a toll.
All three of them are sleeping, totally exhausted after Uncle Mav decided that they should go to a local theme park first thing, before the babysitter arrived. You’ve never used her before, so Mav and Penny offered to take them in the morning to make her day a little easier.
You’re going to grab some leftover pasta for dinner, when you frown. Adam’s insulin is missing.
Pulling out your phone, you shoot a quick text to the babysitter.
You: Hey, have you seen Adam’s insulin anywhere? Green and orange pens.
Andie: it had fallen out of the freezer, so i put it back!
Your heart sinks. Frozen insulin is unusable. You must have knocked it out of the fridge this morning before work. Andie wouldn’t have realised, and just put it back in.
That’s a thousand dollars of medication down the drain.
You have no idea how you’re supposed to pay for more, if insurance doesn’t cover it. Hands shaking, you dial the number. Maybe you can catch them before they finish up for the day.
You get a polite but tired-sounding woman on the phone, who is very apologetic, but firm about the fact that they can’t do anything. You can only afford base coverage, and that doesn’t have any stipulations for accidents.
After the car payments, and school, and insurance, you’re running low. Really low. It’s not something you’d ever admit to Bradley or Maverick, unless the kids were at risk.
Maybe you can sell something. Your mom’s engagement ring, your dad’s watch - there has to be something you can do.
The tears come anyway, and it isn’t until your phone rings that you realise what time it is.
You let out a quiet curse. This is Bradley's call night. The single video call he gets for this entire month. After tonight, he'll be stuck with e-mails until he's home.
Four weeks of not seeing his face. You’re not sure how you’re going to cope. Hastily wiping at your eyes, you accept the call, and move through to the kitchen.
“Hi, Brad,” You smile, desperately hoping the camera doesn't pick up your tear tracks.
He looks tired, but happy. His hair is cropped closer than you like, an unfortunate side effect of military duty. But he’s okay, and that’s what matters. You can’t help the feeling of dread that seems to fester in your stomach each time you think about Bradley being somewhere in the middle of the ocean, doing things he can’t tell you anything about.
“What’s wrong?” He’s frowning immediately, and you want to curse yourself. You should’ve made more of an effort to freshen up before getting on the call.
“I-it’s nothing, just a long day at work.”
“Kid, you look like you're about to sob. Please tell me what's going on.”
“I dropped Adam's insulin out of the fridge today - i-it must've been right after I left for work, and the babysitter thought it was meant to go in the freezer. A-and all of his insulin for the month is ruined.”
“Did you call the insurance company?”
“They won’t cover it,” You reply, voice weak. “We don’t pay enough to get replacements - all we get is the base coverage. But uh, it’s fine, I’ll work something out. He has enough for tonight.”
“I can send you the money-”
“No!” You interject immediately. “God, Bradley, you’ve done too much. It’s okay, I can work it out to tomorrow - go to the bank, see what they can do-”
“Sweetheart, I really don’t mind. I don’t want you to have to sell anything, or take out a loan or anything. The money’s just sitting there in my account, anyway. I’d always rather it went to the kids, or you.”
“My dad has a watch, that-”
Bradley’s face falls, as he shakes his head. “Please. I’m not letting you sell your parent’s things. Let me send you the money.”
“I just- I don’t really want to talk about it, is that okay? Can we talk about anything else?”
He nods, eyes still concerned. “Of course. You decided what you want to do for your birthday yet?”
You shake your head. “Just a quiet day, I think.”
“What if I told you I had some Stevie Nicks tickets with your name on them? It’s the day after your birthday, so not quite-”
“You didn’t,” You gasp. “How the hell did you get them from Japan?”
“I left very detailed instructions with Mav and Penny. I think the seats are terrible, but we’ll have fun. It’s in LA, so I’ve booked us into the Garland too, so we don’t have to worry about the drive back.” Sensing the question on your tongue, he continues. “I’ve already asked Mav. They’ll stay with the kids.”
“You’re insane,” You laugh, still wiping at your eyes slightly.
“In a good way, I hope?”
“The best.”
“I’m glad. We can plan it properly when I’m back. Maybe catch lunch in the city beforehand, go to the pier? Whatever you want, honey.”
“You’re going to make me cry again,” You mumble, dabbing at your eyes.
“As long as it’s happy tears.”
“The absolute happiest.”
*****
Just minutes after you hang up, a notification comes through on your phone.
Bank transfer: $1500 has been deposited into your account ending in XXXX, from Bradley Bradshaw.
07/07. 21:37.
Dear Bradley,
You shouldn’t have sent all that money, it’s far too much! You’ve done so much for us already, I can’t even begin to thank you the way you deserve. But since I figure you wouldn’t take kindly to me sending it back, thank you <3 I think Adam’s insulin should be about 1k, so I can send the rest back afterwards. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Missing you lots, and I’ve attached some pics of Adam’s last game - he insisted I send you some, so that you can see how he’s been practicing his throw! They lost, but it was a lot closer than it’s been recently. He attributes it all to you.
The girls are settling into daycare. I miss them during the day, but I really just couldn’t handle working from home and juggling them both at once. And the staff are so lovely - very hands-on, and they always come home with some kind of arts and crafts.
They’ve already decided that they want to go to the zoo when you’re back, plus a picnic. Sorry to start booking you in for social stuff before you’re even home.
Stay safe and thank you again x
07/08. 05:19.
Kid, I really truly don’t want to see that money back in my account. What’s the point of having it if you can’t use it for the people you love? Buy yourself something nice (and by that I mean by something for you, not for the kids).
Tell Adam he’ll be coming for the big leagues in no time, guy’s a pro! I think that calls for a new mitt when I get home. And I’m so glad Liv and Mol are doing well, I know you’d been worried about the time apart.
We’re about to go offline for a little while, but I’ll be in contact as soon as I’m able. Would you be able to send some more pictures? I have a few of the kids, but there’s only one with you. I don’t know, no worries if not - just missing all of your faces. There’s only so much of Reuben and Mickey that a man can take.
You’re doing so well, honey.
See you soon,
Bradley x
07/10. 18:03.
Hi Brad,
Hope you’re doing okay, and staying safe. As usual, we miss you loads. I got Adam’s insulin sorted, so we’re all good on that front. He says thank you, and I’ve attached a picture of the drawing he did of you both. You’re apparently on holiday in Paris - some not-so-subtle signals for after I get that promotion maybe?
Mav and Penny took the kids so that I could go to Nat’s birthday, which was really nice. They all send their love, and I sent a pic of everybody. I used most of the money left over for Adam’s baseball summer camp (I’m sorry! I know you said to use it on me, but you really should’ve known that was going to happen), but I did treat myself to a dress so you couldn’t be too annoyed. There should be a picture of that somewhere in the files too - I don’t know why I sent it really. Proof that I can spend money on myself? Anyway, feel free to discard.
Sent you a bundle - I didn’t really know what you wanted, so I thought too many was better than not enough. Please email as soon as you’re able - you know I worry.
Can’t wait to see you x
07/17. 03:58.
Hi honey,
That’s us just back to base - can’t tell you any more than that, but we’re all safe. Sorry for the stupid hour, but I wanted to reply before I went to bed.
The new dress looks beautiful. Really. Wish you’d spent more of the money on yourself, but I’ll take what I can get. Green is definitely your colour, though. I’m glad you had a nice time at Nat’s, and that the kids are still doing well.
I love Adam’s drawing, and it’ll get pride of place in my office back in San Diego. With the art and the baseball, I think we might have quite the ladies man on our hands in the future.
Can’t wait for these two weeks to be over, so I can come home to you all.
Love,
Bradley x
It’s the slowest two weeks of his life. Made bearable only by the photos you continue to send, he tries to have one on him at all times, slipped into his flight suit. More often than not, it’s the solo shot of you, in the floaty green summer dress that makes him feel dizzy each time he looks at it.
If Bradley Bradshaw were a smarter man, he’d realise that keeping your best friend in the crevice of your heart saved only for loves of your life is a very telling act. That you’re the first person he thinks about in the morning, and the last at night.
For the first time in his life, it’s not just Maverick and Penny waiting for him. As soon as Bradley’s feet are on the tarmac, he’s sifting through the crowds. Before he can even find you, a shape bursts forwards from the throngs of people, and Adam starts sprinting in his direction. Letting out a laugh, Bradley hoists his duffel bag higher, ready to catch him as he throws himself the final few feet.
“Bradley!” He exclaims, arms immediately wrapping around his neck.
“Hey, kiddo,” Bradley replies, arm tightening round the boy as he starts to move. “Long time no see.”
“We missed you.”
“I missed you too. Care to point me in the direction of your sister?”
Adam glances around, before offering a vague gesture to his left. Bradley follows his finger, and finally his gaze lands on you.
In the green dress.
Liv is balanced on your hip, Molly clinging to your leg. And when you smile at him, a lump forms in his throat.
He thinks he understands what Reuben was talking about now.
All of Bradley’s fears of the twins not recognising him evaporate when Molly smiles up at him, toothy and wide as he makes his way over. She takes some unsteady steps towards him, letting out a giggle when he scoops her into his arms.
Suddenly feeling left out, Olivia starts to reach out too.
“Let’s wait until Bradley puts the others down, okay-” You begin, but he shakes his head.
“Wait, hold on, I can make this work,” He murmurs, readjusting Adam and Molly as he takes Olivia, still somehow managing to find a way to hug you at the same time.
“Hi,” You breathe.
“Hi,” He replies, dropping a kiss to your forehead as he balances the three kids. Another second passes, and then Mav and Penny reach out to take the kids back, allowing you and Bradley a second alone.
“You’re okay?”
He nods, and then he’s hugging you again, far tighter than the one with the children. Your arms fasten round his neck, while his tighten round your waist, pulling you just off the ground as he holds you close. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too. Thank you for the money, Brad. You really saved us.”
“Don’t mention it,” He mumbles. “Really. I’d do anything for you guys.”
“Ready to go home?”
Home. Not his mom’s old house, but the one next door. The one he can’t ever imagine leaving. “More than anything, honey.”
*****
You muddle your way through dinner, having spent three months trying desperately to get better at cooking. While there’s a marked improvement, you’re not sure you’ll ever reach Bradley’s level. But the pasta was edible, and Bradley seemed to appreciate the effort.
Exhausted from welcoming Bradley back, the kids all go down relatively easy, and when Penny and Mav head back home, it’s just you and Bradley. You’ve worked your way through a bottle of wine, and are sitting far closer than you normally would.
Your feet are in his lap, his thumb stroking gently at his ankle.
“Listen, feel free to tell me if this is insane - but uh, I was thinking that maybe we should get married.”
You almost choke on your drink. “What?”
“I get really good health insurance with the Navy - i-if you wanted to, we could get married, and I could adopt the kids - and you wouldn’t have to worry about them.”
“Bradley…” You start, totally at a loss for words. “I-I can’t ask you to do that.”
“What if I want to?” He whispers, eyes earnest, and you can feel yourself welling up. It’s not how you imagined a proposal going, not by any stretch, but the tenderness in his voice makes your knees weak. It would be nice to not have to spend every month wondering if you’d be able to make the healthcare payments.
“Y-you’re sure?”
“Yeah. I am.”
Things move pretty quickly. Neither of you are sure when Bradley’s going to get deployed again, and he needs to have formally adopted the kids to get them put on his health insurance.
Adam is ecstatic with the news, and has already signed Bradley up to talk at career day about being a pilot. And the girls, while not quite at the speaking stage, adore him too. For the first time, you feel like you might be making the right choice.
It’s a tiny affair. Just you, Bradley, the kids, Maverick, Penny and Amelia. You’d agreed not to dress up, and Bradley had suggested your new green one. He’s wearing slacks and a shirt, hair bleached a little from the sun.
It takes everything in you to remember that this isn’t romantic. It’s a platonic wedding, happening only for the sake of the kids.
Something that becomes clear when it’s time to kiss the bride, and Bradley kisses your cheek. You’d been expecting it. Of course you had. The two of you aren’t together, and there’s no reason to believe that Bradley would choose a room with his family and the kids to make his first move.
But it reminds you of what today really is.
A duty. Nothing more.
You wait until Bradley’s distracted by the twins to sneak off to the bathroom, allowing a few tears to escape as you go.
This isn’t how it was meant to go.
For you or Bradley.
Bradley shouldn’t be caging himself in at twenty-six to three kids. This is your reality, but it doesn’t have to be his.
*****
The two of you settle into a rhythm in the house, cautious and a little awkward. It’s hard to think platonically about a man who you wake up next to every morning, who you raise children with. No matter how far apart you start the night, by morning there’s always a knee between your thighs, or his face pressed into your hair. Normally you can untangle yourself before Bradley wakes up. Makes things less weird for both of you.
He’s still your best friend, and you figure it’s probably a lot better than some of your friends who married for love.
So things move on, and while the grief is still very present across all your lives, Bradley alleviates it a little.
Right after Christmas, you get a wedding invitation from Jake, something Bradley had assumed he’d never see. Ever the eternal bachelor, it seems that he’s giving it up to settle down with his girlfriend, Bea. They'd met while he'd been deployed in São Paolo, and had lived over there for a little bit. But when Jake's work had brought him back to San Diego, Bea had come with.
With everybody now stationed in San Diego, you’ve spent a decent amount of time with them both. They’re a nice couple, they make a lot of sense.
And they’re disgustingly in love.
Like, more love than you could ever have expected Jake Seresin to be capable of showing.
Adam is Jake’s number one fan, and had been thrilled when they’d asked him to be the ring-bearer. Bradley had gotten a little huffy, put out at not always being his favourite anymore. He’d been pacified when Olivia had crawled onto his lap, wanting cuddles during The Lion King.
The wedding is beautiful. Standing in a new dress that Bradley had insisted you buy, after he had seen you hovering over it online one too many times, you feel pretty for the first time in months. His arm has been settled on the small of your back all night, and you’d teased him relentlessly for crying when Adam walked down the aisle.
You can’t help but feel like this is what Bradley deserves. Someone like Bea, whom he can love completely and openly. Not you, riddled with trauma and baggage that would make even the most experienced therapists wince.
He deserved a wedding like this. Not a court-house cheek kiss, full of adoption papers.
“What are you thinking?” Bradley murmurs, lacing his fingers through yours as you watch Jake and Bea have their first dance.
“I-I was just thinking about our wedding,” You reply, trying desperately to keep your voice steady.
“Yeah? What about it?”
“I don’t know, it’s stupid,” You dismiss, feeling the familiar prick of tears in your periphery. You won’t cry today. You won’t make Bradley feel worse than he probably already does.
Sensing the tone, Bradley drops it, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your knuckles. “Can’t believe Jake’s getting married. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I thought for sure Bob would get married first out of all of you guys - he’s been with Chloe for so long.”
“Did I tell you they were talking about getting married in London, to be near Chlo’s family? Would maybe be nice to make a holiday of it. Take the kids, do Scotland-”
He’s cut off by the DJ asking for couples to get up and join the Seresins. Bradley’s immediately on his feet, offering you his hand.
“Oh, Brad, I don’t know-”
He doesn’t reply, just laces his fingers through yours, and pulls you to the dancefloor. Holding you tightly against him, you rest your head on his shoulder as he starts to sway.
A Frank Sinatra ballad plays in the background, and you try and keep your attention focused solely on Bradley. This is a happy occasion. You shouldn’t be ruining it with all this over-thinking.
“You look really beautiful,” He murmurs, head dipped to speak directly into your ear.
“You don’t look half-bad yourself.”
“No, I mean. You look really beautiful. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
This feels like dangerous territory, and you swallow. “Brad-”
“I wish I could’ve given you something like this, like today.”
His words tip you over the edge, and a small sob escapes. Eyes widening, Bradley pulls back to look at you. A few of the nearest couples on the dancefloor also turn, concerned. “Oh, kid. I’m sorry- wait, fuck. Hold on.”
He’s leading you outside, pointedly ignoring any attention you’re both receiving. It’s colder than usual for San Diego, and he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, thumb reaching out to wipe at your tears.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I’m sorry,” You cry, chest heaving as you try and regain control of yourself.
His arms are gripping yours, almost as if trying to keep you upright. “Don’t apologise, sweet girl. Was it talking about the wedding?”
“Y-you deserve better than this.”
“What?”
“You deserve a wedding like that. A wife like that. Not… whatever this is.”
Everything is pouring out. All the doubts of the past year, every insecurity, all the guilt about trapping Bradley. You don’t think you could bottle it up now if you tried.
“We’re holding you back.” Your voice is miserable, full of terror that he’ll agree. That he’ll leave, and you’ll be alone again. “That should be you in there. With someone that you love.”
“With you-” He begins, but you cut him off, another sob bubbling up.
“You don’t have to keep pretending, it’s okay.”
“Sweet girl, when I think about the rest of my life, all I can see is you. You, and the kids, and 23 Ridgemont Lane.”
The tears continue to trickle down your cheeks. “Bradley, you’re so young. What about if you meet someone, down the line-”
“That’s not going to happen-”
“You might want more, more than this - and I wouldn’t blame you-”
“Sweetheart, please let me talk for just once second-”
You’re spiralling. You know you are. But something about watching Jake and Bea in there makes you want to sob. That might not be in the cards for you, but you want it desperately for Bradley.
“I don’t want you to hate me one day.” The shake in your voice is borderline pathetic. It’s an admission. One you haven’t been sure you’re strong enough to make. That Bradley holds your heart in his hands, and he can do whatever he pleases with it.
“I could never hate you,” He whispers, reaching up to cup your cheeks. “God, kid, no. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You’re about to protest, when he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed in surprise, hands resting on his chest.
He’s softer than you imagined, the slight scratch of his moustache the only friction.
It’s a kiss that knocks your world off its axis. One that you’re pretty sure would knock you off your feet were it not for Bradley’s arms holding you up - one curling at the nape of your neck, the other dropping to your hip, bring you closer, ever closer.
It’s a little uncoordinated, and it’s only when his nose bumps yours that you begin to realise that this is real.
You’re kissing Bradley, and he’s kissing you, and you’re not sure you ever want it to end.
He's smiling against your mouth, pressing you into the wall of the venue.
You’re not sure how much time has passed when he pulls back. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. “I love you,” He murmurs, nose brushing yours. “So much it kind of terrifies me.”
You let out an almost incredulous laugh. “I love you too.”
“Yeah?”
You nod, leaning in to kiss him again. “Can’t tell you how bad I’ve been feeling these last few months, thinking we were holding you back.
He’s shaking his head. “I'm right where I want to be, sweet girl. I want to be there for Adam starting elementary school, and for the twins starting to talk more. I want to fix up the basement, so that the kids have a playroom, and I want to build you one of those shed-things that give you a little peace and quiet after a long day.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot, huh?” You mumble, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face.
“I want to make sure the girls know that there’s no guy out there who will ever be good enough for them, and I want to teach Adam to play the guitar. Acoustic, not electric, for the sake of all our ears. But mostly, I really, really want to love you the way you deserve. I want to be a comfort during the bad times, and celebrate the good, and the rest of the time I just want to be near you.”
His arms are wrapped around you again, pulling you in tightly as you cry into his shoulder.
“What do you say?” He breathes. “Want to get married for real this time?”
How lucky you are to have Bradley Bradshaw in your life.
Summary : After too many drinks at the Hard Deck, your emotions are running high and witnessing everyone reject Jake when all he wanted to do was play pool, was your last straw.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin × Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning ⚡️:)
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. Also I have never been drunk in my life so sorry for any lack of realism there💞
Word count : 6.1k
Part two :)
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“This is so much fun,” you declared, mostly to yourself, as you took a sip of your fifth drink, swaying slightly on your tool.
Reuben and Mickey had insisted to go to the Hard Deck on Friday night after a grueling week of training, and they dragged everyone with them. They even had managed to get you to come even though you were fervent on spending a calm evening at home. Their insistent pestering and pleading, along with Mickey promising to buy you your first two drinks, eventually sealed the deal for you. Who were you to refuse free drinks ?
Quite quickly after arriving at the bar, all of you had settled in your self proclaimed corner, the one with the biggest pool table which was also not too far from the throwing darts game.
It was later into the evening now, you had let yourself seduced by shots with Natasha and you hadn’t exactly stopped drinking after that. Sipping your mojito happily, you took a moment to take a look at the members of your squad, who were spread out in two groups. Natasha, Bradley and Bob seemed to be having a vigorous debate over by the dart board, while Javy, Reuben, Mickey and Jake were engrossed into a party of pool, which Jake was leading, of course.
Bradley had invited you to their game a little while ago but you had gently refused, opting to just sit for a moment, content to watch your friends have fun while enjoying the warm feeling the alcohol was giving you. It wasn’t very often you drank, not really liking the way you became so emotional and loosed tongue. But so far, you seemed to be doing fine, the liquor in your system making you feel giddy for once and not so mushy like it usually did.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, how the hell are you still winning when there’s three of us against you ?” Mickey complained, which caught your attention.
“This is actually starting to feel unfair,” Reuben agreed, putting his cue stick on the pool table, while Javy was letting out an exasperated grumble.
“I don’t know boys, I’m just that good. There’s nothing you can do about it except maybe just make peace with it,” Jake retorted, a smirk brighter than the sun itself stretching his lips. “Let’s go again, I promise to go easy on you this time.” He winked charmingly at his three friends who were staring at him with infiltrated irritation.
“No way, I’m out.” Javy capitulated, throwing his arms in the air before walking towards the bar.
“Okay,” Jake smiled, letting the last syllable linger, “damn, didn’t know you were such a sore loser Coyote.” He called out after his friend, “come on, Payback, Fanboy, you two against me.”
“Sorry man, honestly it’s not even fun anymore,” Reuben declared.
Jake just waved him off, turning to Mickey expectantly.
“No way.” The man simply said before walking with Payback towards the rest of the group next to the dart board.
Jake was left with an air of incredulity deforming his features.
“What the hell, guys ? So what, you’re just gonna leave me hanging ?”
“Now you know what that feels like,” Bradley called out to him with a smirk, evidently proud of his quick wit.
“Shut the fuck up, chicken.” He then, looked at the rest of the squad while walking over to them, “are you serious ? No one wants to play with me ?”
You had been watching the whole exchange quietly from your barstool, and you didn’t like the way Jake’s tone changed, almost imperceptibly to the normal human ear, but it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Nothing he would ever do would go unnoticed by you, which you considered to be your greatest misfortune.
“Are you really surprised ? Nobody likes playing with you, Hangman.” Natasha retorted harshly.
In any other circumstances you would have agreed with her, threw in a snappy remark of your own, not wasting an opportunity to put him in his place. But in your state, her tone sounded overly cruel in your ears. And the way Jake reacted was not helping the oncoming wave of empathy and emotion you could feel rising in your throat.
He simply looked at them with an unreadable expression for a second and just as he was about to say something, Javy returned to the dart board, carrying a tray full of drinks.
“Alright who’s up for darts ? Jake, don’t even think about it dude, leave us a chance to win.”
Jake cleared his throat, “Yeah, okay. I mean, I thought pilots like you would like some competition but if you like an easy win, have at it,” he conceded with a resigned grimace.
“We’re not in the air, Bagman, let us have fun. Not everything has to be hardcore competition,” Bradley almost snarled at him, while taking off some drinks from Javy’s tray.
Jake let out a bitter chuckle, “yeah, alright. Have fun then.” He said before walking back to the pool table, where he had left his drink.
Despite the bravado he forced himself to put on at all times, it was clear as day he was hurt, and you felt your heart tighten. It wasn’t often you saw him showing any other emotion that wasn’t infuriating cockiness, thinking about it, never had you seen him like that.
Jake loved pool, everyone knew that. Sure, you could say that every respectable fighter pilot liked pool, it was always fun to play. But Jake ? Genuinely loved it, his face would light up when he was playing, especially when he was winning. Which was pretty much all the time. Every time you all went to the Hard Deck together, he would practically rush for the pool table in the left corner, hurrying everyone else, already putting on chalk on his cue. He knew all these strategies, which you had always laughed at, why need strategies ? It was literally a ball sinking game. Jake was also capable of doing these — this you’d admit — insane tricks with the balls, giving them effects as he sunk them, even making the cue ball jump over a striped one so that it could sunk one of his full ones and he was always ecstatic to show off to anyone who would deigned to watch him.
And with no warning, you felt tears rising to your eyes as you stared at Jake sipping his drink all alone. Why would they reject him like that ? He just wanted to play. Your heart lurched at the sight, your squad having fun together, and Jake, reassembling the balls to prepare to break them, so that he could play, by himself.
Without any second thought, drink still in your hand, you got up from your stool, swaying lightly and cursing as your feet hit the ground. If you needed any confirmation that you had too much to drink, this was it.
For a minute you felt dizzy — your blurry vision not helping — you waited a moment to avoid completely falling flat on your face and made your way to your friends by the dart board. Sniffling and keeping your head up high to avoid having tears run down your cheeks.
Bob was the first one to spot you coming, and immediately he seemed alarmed by your expression. A quick touch of your cheek confirmed that you hadn’t done a good job of containing the evidences of your chagrin.
“Hey, Y/N, what’s happening ? Are you alright ?” Bob asked gently, getting up from his stool so he could get to you.
His worried tone made everyone perk up, and all the pilots started to gather around you.
“You okay ? Did someone bother you ?” Bradley asked.
They were all accustomed to how emotional you could get while drunk, but Bradley especially would never put aside the possibility of some weird guy harassing you.
“You guys are—“ you were cut out by a pathetic little sob, “so mean !” You said an accusing finger pointed in their direction.
“Y/N, you’ve had too much to drink, okay ?” He said gently, while going to take the drink from your hand, which you quickly retracted, pulling it against your chest.
“No, you guys are so mean,” you sniffled, “why won’t you play with him ?”
Everyone shared confused glances, in the corner of your eye you saw Javy murmured to Reuben something that sounded like “the fuck is she talking about”.
Natasha got closer to you, features morphing into something gentle, she knew better than anyone how to handle you in that state.
“Y/N, who are you talking about ?”
The fact that none of them even had the smallest idea of who you were referring to was your last straw. They had just dismissed him entirely, someone they flew with every single day. Threw him away with some hurtful remarks, left him all alone and they had the nerve to ask who you were talking about ?
“What do you mean who am I talking about ?” You whined, the emotion felt like it would burst out of your chest from feeling too much of it, “Jake ! I’m talking about Jake ! He wants to play pool but none of you wants to play with him !”
Mickey bursted out laughing then, which got him a stern look from Bradley.
“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart.” Natasha told you, “he’s a grown man, he’s fine. Why does that bother you anyway ?”
“He’s not fine !” You insisted, smalls sobs along with the alcohol making you hiccup, “he’s sad ! Go play with him, right now.”
“We love you, Lightning, we really do,” Reuben started, “but no way in hell.”
“You’re really not helping,” Bob reproached him with a sigh.
Mindlessly wiping the tears running freely on your cheeks with your free hand, you tried to refrain the next sob that was threatening to break out.
“Fine, I’ll go play with him then.” You declared in a very determined tone, already turning around and making your way over to Jake, swaying lightly on your feet.
“Hey Y/N come back—“ Natasha was about to go after you but Bob quickly stopped her.
“It’s okay, she’ll be with Jake, he’ll take great care of her,” he mischievously smiled at her, which only got him a puzzled look.
“What, you seriously don’t know ?” He asked her, visibly incredulous.
The chatter of your friends got more and more distant as you got closer to the pool table where Jake was sinking balls easily with an evident lack of enthusiasm. There was a laziness to his movements, like he was disinterested. The contempt and rejection from the squad seemed to had drain all the excitement of the game for him.
He looked like a kicked golden retriever puppy and your heart couldn’t have possibly handled more.
“Hangman !” You called out, quickly wiping the tears that had ran down during your walk there, “I’m playing with you.”
Jake suddenly stood up straight from sinking a ball upon hearing your voice, and immediately he seemed startle by your expression, similarly to how the rest of the squad had been only minutes ago.
“Hey, Lightning, you good ?” He asked, getting closer to you, his sharp eyes taking you in and inspecting you for any physical hurt.
You waved him off, while trying to ignore how his concern made your whole chest feel warm, when you’d sober up you’d probably blame it on the alcohol.
“Put the balls back in the middle, I’m playing with you.” You declared, words slurring slightly.
Jake only looked at you for a second, his raised brows betraying his surprise.
“You,” he started, pointing a finger towards you, “want to play with me ?” His index now pointed at him.
Taking another sip of your drink, you nodded into your glass.
“Yes, that’s what I said. I’m playing with you.”
“How much have you had to drink ?”
“Jake that is literally not the point, I want to play pool, so let’s play pool !” You insisted in a whine, putting your glass down on a table — not before taking another sip — and going to collect the balls he had already sunken from the pockets.
He stared at you, taking you in. Your urgency felt uncharacteristic, especially if it was related to doing anything with him. Jake never really saw you drunk, it wasn’t often you allowed yourself to reach such a state and when you did, you usually sticked close to Natasha or Bradley. Your behavior was completely new to him and it was taking him aback a bit.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of the squad eyeing you both, while whispering things amongst each other. A few seconds passed, the gears were turning in his head, he looked at your drink on the table, your tears streaked cheeks, the way the squad was so very obviously gossiping about the two of you… And then it clicked.
Jake took one long look at you carefully placing all the balls in the middle with the rack.
“You know you don’t have to play with me if you don’t really want to, right ?” He began cautiously, a gentle tone in his voice. “I was fine playing on my own.”
But the words ‘on my own’ seemed to trigger another wave of tears, they ran freely down your cheeks as you sobbed, “no you were not, you were sad.”
Jake’s whole face seemed to melt instantly.
“Aww, sweetheart…” he cooed, taking a step towards you.
But before he could get anything else out, you continued.
“And they are so—“ you began through sniffles, “so mean for treating you like that all because you wanted to play pool. So I am playing with you, I want to play with you.” You finished while weeping the tears from your eyes.
Jake stared at you for a moment, feeling like his heart would burst out of his chest just from looking at you. You were standing in front of him, determined and adorably empathetic — glassy eyes from the alcohol and the tears boring into his. Your cheeks were flushed from all the drinks you’d had, and you were leaning against the pool table, probably in an attempt to stabilize your dizzying vision.
He felt something dangerous happen to him, standing in front of you, having you be so nice to him for perhaps the first time ever since he had met you, he felt dangerous thoughts cross his mind — the ones he only ever allowed himself late at night, in the quiet of his apartment — and travel to the tip of his tongue. But he caught himself before they could become anything more than that, thoughts. Jake forced himself to swallow the words, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was overcome with an emotion he couldn’t possibly had voiced you, but his face showed nothing of it when he looked at you.
Pink lips stretching into a fond smile, jade green eyes soft and staring at you with… was it fondness ? The alcohol might had been blurring your judgement.
“I really appreciate it, darlin’, that’s very nice of you. I’d love for us to play together.” He said in a soft, soothing tone, hoping to calm your meltdown and the state of distress you were in at the sheer idea of him playing pool alone.
You nodded, satisfied by his answer, and Jake helped you put all the balls back in the middle with the rack before taking it off. He handed you a cue stick.
“Break ‘em.”
“No, you do it.”
You knew he loved to break.
Seeing a spark of something you couldn’t decipher flash in his eyes, he let out an almost bashful smile as he looked at you, and you gestured for him to take the shot, not sure you could handle his intense eyes on you any longer.
Jake got in position, upper body getting close to the table and your drunken brain immediately diverted your eyes to the curve of his ass, making a warmth spread out in your chest that you couldn’t blame on the liquor.
“Eyes on the game, darlin’.”
Your heat skipped a beat.
“I was watching the game,” you slurred, hoping your cheeks weren’t any more flushed than they already were because of your many drinks.
He let out a chuckle as he lined up his shot and every ball went bouncing off in every direction. He managed to sink a striped one.
“Alright, you take the full ones.” He told you.
Simply nodding, you watched him take another shot, sinking a ball. And then another successful one. It’s been quite some time since you’d seen him play this close, he was really good. On his third shot, he missed, finally letting you take your turn.
Circling the table and holding on to it, you tried to find the best angle to sink one of your balls, “You know I’m very good,” you stated like it was obvious, “but it’s been a long time since I’ve played.”
Jake caught himself before he could make any remark about how in your state he wasn’t expecting you to be world champion anyway.
“I wouldn’t know,” he settled for instead, “we’ve never played together.”
You abruptly stopped your rounding of the table to look at him, both of you standing perfectly on opposite sides. Your brows frowned in a confused expression and Jake wanted nothing more than to kiss away the crinkle on your forehead.
“Have we really never ?”
“Never,” he confirmed, “you don’t exactly carry me in your heart, remember ? You always say you don’t want to play with an arrogant jerk like me.”
His words seemed to fall on you with the weight of a thousand suns, your heart aching at his depiction of your own words.
“Do I really say that ?”
But Jake didn’t seem to notice the way his — yours — words had affected you, he only laughed as he continued to reminisce.
“Yeah, I tried so many times. Don’t tell me you don’t remember all the nights I literally begged you to do just one game with me ? You normally never even want to be in my vicinity when we come here.”
You shook your head, feeling the emotional overload pile up in your chest, rising in your throat to form a lump that was impossible to swallow.
“Oh…” was the only pathetic sound you managed to get out.
“Anyway, I’m glad to finally see what you are made of, Lightning.” He finished with a small chuckle.
But it had been too much too fast. The crushing realization of your harsh words, the way you had treated him no better than your friends you just yelled at a few minutes earlier, made you sick at yourself.
Still holding your cue stick in one hand, you broke out into sobs. Your head fell into your free hand, shoulders shaking with the force of your inconsolable chagrin.
If you had been able to see Jake’s face you probably would have laughed at the way his eyebrows raised comically fast.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he said in a hurried panic, putting his cue stick down on the pool table to cross the distance that was separating you, “Y/N what’s wrong ?”
He raised his hands in an instinctual move to put them on your shoulders to try and comfort you, but unsure of what his touch could do to you right now, he awkwardly put them back down. Instead he lowered himself slightly, trying to catch your eyes where you had your head bowed down into your hand.
“Y/N ?” Jake called out softly.
“I’m an awful person—“ you said in a huge sniffle, tears cascading down your cheeks with no way of stopping them. You still refused to look at him. “I’m so sorry Jake, so sorry, I’m so mean—“
He managed to get over his temporarily shock, attention now entirely focused on your wellbeing and seeing you smile again. He gently took the cue stick out of your hand to put it on the table, and before you could bring your newly free hand to your face, he took it softly, fingers wrapping around your wrist.
“Y/N ? Could you look at me for a second, sweetheart ?”
You shook your head, sobbing harder now.
“I’m sorry, Jake. So so sorry—“
“Everything is alright, I promise. You did nothing wrong,” Jake soothed, rubbing what he hoped were calming circles onto your wrist. “Could you look at me, please, Y/N ?”
Rubbing your eyes in a clumsy attempt to wipe the tears staining your cheeks, you finally lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. Jake’s heart nearly broke witnessing your lip quiver, signaling that another wave of tears was incoming. Your features were contorted into a chagrin he never witnessed before, an expression he never thought he’d see on your pretty face. And he got the most irrepressible desire to take you into his arms, rock you softly and shush you soothingly until your wet lashes dried.
His brain sent out the signals before he could stop it, his arms lifted open in an instinctual move to bring you into him, but stopped himself at the last second, arms still frozen open.
But your eyes caught the movement, and it was enough for you to launch yourself into him, sending him stumbling backward a bit from the force you had thrown yourself with. You buried your nose in his collarbone, your arms around his waist holding on as tight as your drunken state allowed you to.
It took Jake a second to get over the shock before his arms wrapped around you, one hand holding your head while he put his chin on top of it, gently caressing your hair.
“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. Let it out. Everything is okay, I promise, everything is fine.”
Like he had imagined it only seconds before, he swayed you gently from left to right. Soothing voice hitting your ears and calming down your distress. You sniffled as you completely melted into his embrace.
“How you feeling, sweetheart ?”
“Better,” you mumbled against his collarbone.
Jake let out a fond chuckle, “i’m glad.”
He continued to rock you gently for a few minutes before he slowly began to pull back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around you. Your tears had dried, leaving small stains on your cheeks as you looked up at him.
“I’m really sorry I’m so mean to you all the time, Jake. I don’t know why I act like that.” You confessed in a small voice.
He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes soft as they gazed down at you.
He hummed softly, “I’ve got a little idea.”
You waited for him to explain further but when he didn’t say anything else, you frowned.
“What are you waiting for ? Tell me.” You whined.
He just smiled knowingly.
“I think that’s something you need to figure out on your own.”
Your bottom lip stuck out as you pouted and Jake playfully tsked you.
“Hey none of that,” he warned jokingly, “what can I do to bring a smile back on your pretty face ?”
Gazing at the table on your right, your voice found a new determined tone.
“I want to play pool.”
“Is that really what you want ?”
“Yes, with you.”
The smile that broke out on Jake’s face almost made you look away from how dazzling it was.
“Alright, let’s play, sweetheart.”
He handed you back your cue stick, signaling for you to take your shot since it was your turn. Aligning yourself with the cue all, tongue between your teeth in deep concentration you took the shot and—
“Oh, well I’m worse than I thought.” You stated with a hint of disappointment as you completely missed the cue ball.
Jake was unable to hide a laugh, “to be fair I don’t think everything you drank is helping you. Want some help ?”
“From the pool king himself ? Yes please.”
Jake was happy to notice some of your wit coming back, he came up behind you, not close enough to touch but close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your neck as he bent down slightly at your level.
“Just get really close to the table, yeah ?” He put a warm hand between your shoulder blades as you went down, “aim for number 5 over there,” he pointed at the ball.
You got low like he told you, chest almost touching the table, hips and ass pushing back as Jake respectfully stepped aside so he wouldn’t collide with you. Focusing really hard on where you wanted it to go, you finally took your shot and the ball went straight into the left corner pocket.
Excitement immediately made you stand up and turn around to see Jake harboring a bright, wide smile.
“Look at that, a true natural.” He praised, flashing his palm for a high five you eagerly participated in.
“What can I say ? I have the world champion player by my side,” you chimed.
You both continued to play pool, Jake very subtly letting you win. And when you had sunk all your balls and hazardously shot the 8-ball in the left middle socket, you squealed as Jake clapped for you.
“You beat me fair and square, sweetheart.”
That was clearly debatable, but you were in no state to question it, your victory seeming totally legitimate in your eyes. You walked around the table to go get your drink.
But right as you were about to take a sip, Jake — who had somehow crossed the distance in three steps — took the glass out of your hand.
“Hey ! That’s my drink !”
“How about you stick to water for now, mmh baby ?”
All the fight left your body as soon as the petname hit your ears, his Texan drawl making it sound so sweet. His voice having rendered you completely pliant, you just nodded.
“Let’s go ask Penny for a glass.” He prompted and you quickly took a hold of his arm as he guided you to the bar.
You were still holding on to Jake and Penny wasn’t able to hide her surprise when she saw the two of you.
“That’s certainly a sight,” she said with a smirk, eyeing the way you were clinging to Jake. “You okay, sweetie ?” She asked you.
“I’m great,” you assured, a tired but bright smile stretching your lips.
Jake chuckled fondly, “could we have a glass of water Penny, please ?”
The older woman nodded and quickly got out a glass that she filled with ice and water before she handed it to you. You thanked her and began downing the drink.
“Well, you definitely needed it.” Jake joked, ruffling your hair affectionately, “when you finish that glass, I’ll drive you home, yeah ?”
You nodded as Penny looked at Jake with squinting eyes.
“How much have you had to drink, sailor ?”
“Don’t worry, I just had one beer a few hours ago.”
“Alright, drive safe.”
Jake saluted Penny as you finished your glass, settling it down in the bar.
“Good night Penny !” You waved at her, the older woman eagerly returned your gesture.
“Alright, let’s say bye to the squad now.”
Making your way over to the squad, still firmly wrapped around Jake’s arm, it was almost comical to see your friends’ look of disbelief when they started to notice you walk over.
“Alright gang,” Jake caught their attention, “I’m driving Lightning home.”
All of them were stunned silent at seeing you two so close, and you so pliant and calm with him. Bob was the only one harboring a small, tender smile.
“Drive safe, we’ll see you guys on Monday.”
“I’m sorry, is no one gonna mention any of this ?” Reuben undignified himself while gesturing wildly to the two of you.
“What is that supposed to mean ?” You inquired, not liking the way he seemed to be referring so hostilely to Jake and you.
“Leave them alone,” Bradley’s voice caught everyone’s attention. “You get her home safe, Hangman.” He looked at Jake straight in the eyes, tone firm and authoritative before he softened and turned to you. “Text us when you’re home, alright ?”
While everyone was expecting Jake to come back with a smug and arrogant remark — like he usually did — his simple, diligent nod raised everyone’s brows. You let go of Jake momentarily to go hug Bradley, he wrapped his arms around you and left a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t do anything you’d regret tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear.
“Me ? You know I could never Bradshaw.” You replied jokingly.
Jake patiently waited for you as you hugged every member of the squad. When you came back to him, you immediately took hold of his arm again while he bid everyone goodnight and led you to the door after your goodbyes.
The fresh air of the summer night was a welcome sensation on your flushed cheeks. “Tonight was so much fun,” you declared.
Jake chuckled, quietly wondering how could it had been fun for you when you spent half of it crying your heart out for him.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart.”
“Did you have fun ?” You asked, looking up at him expectantly.
Stopping next to his truck, he looked down at you, feeling the words swell up in his chest — in which his heart was hammering. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm the swirl of emotion billing in his throat.
“Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.” He said in a voice that carried so much fondness it felt like a warm embrace.
A bashful smile made its way onto your face, as Jake refrained the urge to leave the softest kiss on your forehead, instead he just opened the passenger door for you and helped you in.
The drive was rather short, but Jake was struggling to focus on the road as he could sense your intense stare on him. Your eyes never wavered from his face and despite himself he could feel heat slowly coming onto his neck and cheeks.
Parking out in front of the small house you were renting near base, he came to your side to open your door and helped you out. In front of your door, you both stopped.
“Thank you for tonight, darlin’.”
Your hazy eyes bore into his with an intensity that shook him to his core.
“Jake ?”
“Yeah, baby ?”
“I think I figured out why I’m so mean to you all the time.”
He froze, his heart skipping a beat, not sure if it was from excitement of finally hearing the words he longed to hear from you or fear of having you say them while the alcohol was clouding your judgement.
“You did ?” His voice was strained, feeling his palms sweat and wiping them down on his pants.
“Yes. The reason I’m so mean to you all the time is not because I hate you, I think—“
“Y/N, Don’t say anything, please,” he stopped you, putting his hands on your shoulders.
Giving him a confused look, you felt your heart drop, “why…?” You asked, voice small, “you don’t wanna hear what I have to say…?”
Jake let out a sigh, “It’s not that, sweetheart,” he assured, voice gentle, “I just don’t want you to say things you could regret tomorrow.”
“Do you know what I was going to say ?”
He gave you a small smile, one hand sliding from your shoulder to cup your flushed cheek, thumb rubbing gently. The cool temperature of his hand was a welcome sensation as you nuzzled against it.
“I do.”
“But I want to say it, I want you to know.” You whined, putting your hand on top of his that was cupping your cheek.
“Believe me, I already know, darlin’. Have for quite some time now. But when you say it to me, I want it to be because you are ready to say it, not because the alcohol is forcing you to.”
But Jake could still see the disappointment in your eyes and your pouting lip was making a reappearance, completely melting him from the inside.
“How about you tell me tomorrow ? When you’re sober.”
“I won’t have the courage to do it tomorrow ! That’s the whole point of doing it now…”
“Then I’ll wait, it’s okay.”
Feeling the tears starting to come back with the frustration of not being able to express what you had been feeling this whole time, you complained, “I don’t want to wait anymore, Jake. I lo—“
“Baby, please don’t,” Jake put a panicked hand over your mouth.
You frowned and he could see your eyes getting hazy with tears.
“If I take off my hand, will you listen to me for a second ?”
As you nodded, Jake moved his hand from your mouth to your cheek, so both of his hands were holding your face. He hated knowing he was the cause of the small tears that were slipping from your confused and hurt eyes.
“Y/N, I promise that I feel the exact same way you do, I have for years, okay ? And there is nothing on this earth I desire more than to finally hear you admit it, but when you do, I want it to come from you, not the alcohol.” Drowning in his jade green eyes, his words made your heart almost beat out of your chest. “I want you sober when you finally tell me, cause then there won’t be anything else holding me back from kissing you like I’ve been dreaming of, alright ?”
His words stunned you quiet as his thumbs gently wiped the tears on your cheeks. It’s like your breath had been taken away. Nothing had been said, and yet you both knew. The silent truth was lingering in the air, silencing every other noise. In this moment it was only you and him, standing in front of each other, finally on the same wavelength.
Your lips stretched out on their own. Unknowingly to you both, your hearts were beating in synch to the rhythm of your unspoken, and yet certain, feelings.
“You have to promise me something, Jake.” You finally said when you found your words.
“Anything.”
“You need to come find me tomorrow, so I can tell you. Tomorrow morning, first light, I want you right here in front of the door, so I can tell you. If you don’t come to me I’ll never have the courage to go find you myself.”
Jake let out a shaky, relived exhale before a smile broke out onto his face.
“I will, sweetheart. Promise.”
“What time will you be here ?” You eagerly asked, already impatient for the first rays of sunshine to cast a golden glow over his features as you would pour out your entire heart to him.
Jake chuckled, before he bent down slightly, leaving a tender kiss on your cheek that you leaned into the best you could.
“I’ll be here at first light, just like you said. If you think I’m not impatient as well, you’re mistaken, darlin’. Now go to bed, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow, we have a lot to talk about.”
You nodded, embracing him as tight as you could.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.” you said in a barely contained excited giggle.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”
You opened your door, flashing him one last smile before closing it and disappearing inside of your home.
Jake didn’t know exactly how much time he spent in front of your door after you closed it. His chest felt tight, heart filled with the quiet love he had carried all these years, a love he’d finally be able to express out loud.
He looked up at the moon which was casting an eerie glow over the street, and prayed for the night to fly by fast. He usually loved the stars, but looking up at them he found himself thinking that he’d be fine never seeing another star again if he meant he finally got to be with you. He smiled, feeling giddy like the first time he’d realised he was in love with you. He had waited patiently for years for this moment to come, and somehow it felt impossible to sit tight for another few hours.
Jake couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Author’s note : alright I definitely didn’t planned for this little fic to get that long, but I hoped you liked it, thank you for reading !!
Next fic I’m working on is Pleasure Is No Shame - Part 3, I can’t wait to bring it to you !!💞
A/N: like……. do i want a big handsome man to compete with yes. would i let him win just this once despite being funnier and smarter and cuter than him. if he played his cards right yes.
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Reader
Summary: Bradley makes a bet with high stakes even the girl next door can’t refuse. 1.5k words
Warnings: pure fluff and romance, cursing, pet names (babydoll, baby, sweetheart)
"C'mon, one game! For old time's sake."
Shirtless and on your porch like a door to door Magic Mike, Bradley Bradshaw is begging you to join him for a stupid game of basketball. Just like he has every summer since you moved in next door. You have half a mind to be annoyed, but you can't deny that you'd love to see him, muscles and all, glistening in the sun. For old time's sake.
"No, Bradshaw, all you ever wanna do is play basketball and fix cars."
"Yeah? Fine then, what would you rather do?"
You scan the painted frame of your door, mouth tugging to one side in feigned thought. He's scrutinizing, and it's hot out. Not a good combo for your bluff.
"... Watch you and your friends play basketball and fix cars," you say.
He rolls his eyes in all their hazel glory and punts the basketball into your hands. You receive it with an oof, jogging over to his driveway where there's a well loved metal hoop, sans net.
"Horse?"
"No, you always win with that stupid backwards shot,” you whine, dribbling the ball slowly at your feet.
"Hmm. Sounds like a skill issue, babydoll.”
You stick your tongue out in protest, bouncing the ball to him.
"Alright, let's scrimmage then,” Bradley says with a familiar spark in his tone.
"One on one? Not fair, you're like a million miles longer than me."
"Indulge me, sweetheart. I'll go easy,” he hums. Damn those Bradshaw genes and the charm that comes with them.
You scowl lovingly while grumbling: “Fine. But if you win, you owe me.”
"What exactly do I owe you?"
Oh, but it’s far too cheeky to stay between friends. The only thing less fair than a scrimmage is the way he smirks. Like he’s got a sweet secret he’s keeping from you.
"Dunno yet"—he chuckles at your annoyance—"A favor?"
"Too broad. How ‘bout a date?"
And suddenly you're kinda winded. Because, yeah, you've had this cute banter thing since you were young but it's never come to anything. Now you're adults and you miss him when he's deployed and he plays basketball with you because it feels like it’s all he has anymore. So before you can say anything, your brain is nodding for you. Sure this wager—a date— might be a bad idea down the line, but at least it'll be a hell of a lot of fun in the moment.
"Alright, hot shot. Let's see some ball,” you huff.
"First to 7. Go ahead and tip us off.”
He passes the ball to you and you immediately go for the three pointer, not expecting it to get anywhere near the hoop. Yet somehow you get it in one try. He turns to you with a ‘how the fuck’ expression painted on his face.
"I don't know! I don't know, I thought it would be funny!" you howl through your breathless laughter.
"Oh, it's funny alright, but don't go thinking that counts for three points,” he says, sweetly jabbing you in the side with the ball tucked under his arm.
"Aw, scared I'm gonna win?"
"Terrified,” he says. Maybe letting on a little more than he'd like to admit. Because the idea of taking you out and getting to show you off is just about making his blood sear like it's pressurized to high hell.
He tosses you the ball, you pass it to him, and you immediately go to body slam him. You feel young again, like there are no responsibilities except homework packets and curfew at sunset. He feels it too through a chuckle, grabbing his own sides when you keep missing layups.
"Stop laughing! 'S not funny, I can't even get—fuck! Just take it." And you sling the ball at him in defeat.
"Spoil sport. I'll show you how it's done."
Rest assured, Bradley jogs up to the basket while you skip after him, watching him sink the layup in one shot.
"Now we're even,” he coos, leaning in. Just to throw you off, you think.
"You sure? Cause I'm pretty sure I remember smoking your ass with a three pointer."
"One point. This is not real basketball. We're playing one basket one point,” he huffs, stepping back to dribble the ball proudly.
"Well, if I'd known, I wouldn't have put so much effort into—"
"Blah blah blah, c'mon, less talking more playing!"
You swat at the ball in vain, but he has it so strong in his grip he has to laugh, pivoting away from you and making yet another lay up. He’s smug, turning around and shrugging while you’re exasperated, hands on hips.
"Giving up so soon?" he teases.
"It's hard chasing after your long legs, Bradshaw!"
"No, I'm not buying it. Come on, take this one."
He hands the ball over and crouches face to face with you, giving you a wink. There’s a part of you that hesitates in his face like this, calm with a heart racing like a hummingbird. But you go for the fake out anyway, skirting around his other side when he whines about foul play.
But he stops you just before the basket, practically wrapping himself around your back. When you try to pivot or throw the ball, he grabs you around the middle and you squeal. He finally sets you free when you drop the ball.
"Hey! Speaking of foul play!" you shout, watching him beeline for the hoop.
"Don't hate the player!"
He swoops the ball coolly into the basket with a low whistle.
"Nothing but net, baby! Did you see that!"
"What is that, four?" you chuckle, seeing his face light up
"I'm racking 'em up. Careful, or you might actually have to go out with me."
And suddenly you remember the stakes, squinting at him wondering why he's playing so hard just for the bit. He snags the ball from you and sprints down the court, taking a weak shot that smacks the backboard and falls through the hoop easily. Bradley turns to you with a pinched brow.
"You didn't even try and stop me. Where's your head at?" he hums.
"Hmm? Oh, got distracted by... a bird,” you say, gesturing lazily at the sky.
"Oh, I see. You were thinking about our hot date, huh?"
"No.”
"Yeah, you were. Don't let me get in the way of your daydreams, sweetheart."
"I wasn't daydreaming! Just give me the ball."
He's laughing self-assuredly with a broad grin on his face, passing you the ball which you dribble around him, slowly making your way down the court. He lets you inch down the side, your back to him. One glance over your shoulder catches him staring at your ass with his lip caught snug between his teeth.
"Quit staring, Bradshaw!"
"Sorry, had to do some daydreaming of my own,” he says with a cool chuckle with a soft pink flush across his cheeks. You smile fondly at the way it creeps across his chest, too.
But you roll your eyes anyway and flit past him, finally tossing the ball in the basket.
"Feelin' the heat yet?" you tease, getting in his face like you want to fight. Though that’s far from the truth.
"Felt it a long time ago, doll. Let's get this show on the road."
You play mostly clean except for the occasional catcall. Or two. It only makes him laugh and flex his bravado under the attention of a pretty lady. You both score another point, putting you at four and six. He passes you the ball in a quick motion.
"One more and you know what that means,” he says. He’s date-minded, especially if it’s with you. His long time sweetheart and classic girl next door with the vocabulary of a sailor.
"I'd like to see you try,” you tease.
"Oh, you're about to."
You dribble it past him, but he's mighty fast, crossing the driveway in just a few strides. It’s just then you stop and think: win back the basketball champion title you never had and show Bradshaw who’s boss on his own turf. Or, let him win. Go on the date.
The thought swirls around in your mind for a second longer as a droplet of sweat kisses Bradley’s cheekbone. Then: fuck it.
You place the ball gingerly in his hands, and, on instinct, he goes for the immediate lay up. It’s only after the ball flies back through the hoop and lands squat in his grip that he turns to you with a puzzled look on his face.
"Did you just… give me the ball?"
You shrug with a cheeky smile
"It's all relative,” you coo.
"Bullshit. You gave it to me. You wanted me to score."
"Who knows why we do anything."
"Oh, you little—" He lets the ball fall from his palms and down the driveway, rolling into the gutter with a soft thud. Not a second longer, and his arms are outstretched, catching your waist and walking you backwards until you trip on the grass, tumbling back onto the lawn with a shriek of laughter.
The San Diego sun had the audacity to shine even brighter when she stepped out of the black SUV.
It wasn’t just that she was famous.
She was her.
The most photographed, most admired, most untouchably glamorous woman in the world. The kind of woman whose name alone could crash a website. Whose face hung in art museums and teenage boys’ lockers alike. She didn’t just walk onto the Top Gun tarmac—she graced it.
Sleek sunglasses. Designer boots. Wind-swept hair. A presence that made grown men stand straighter and forget their own names.
“Holy shit,” Hangman breathed. “It’s really her.”
“No kidding,” Rooster muttered. “Try not to pass out.”
“She’s even prettier in person,” Phoenix said, and she meant it.
And yet, when she reached Admiral Simpson, her smile was warm. Her handshake was polite, eyes steady, voice kind. She thanked everyone for the tour. She complimented the weather, said the jets looked incredible, asked real questions about the training program. For someone worth billions, she was shockingly… normal. Nice, even.
She took pictures with everyone—every pilot, every crew member, every starstruck staffer on the runway. She laughed with Fanboy. Complimented Halo’s braids. Teased Payback about trying to sneak in two photos.
And then she paused.
Eyes scanning the group again, like she was looking for someone.
Then, pointing just past the main huddle, she smiled.
“Who’s that cutie patootie over there?”
Every head turned.
Bob, who had been standing half-behind a jet wing, blinked in confusion.
“Me?” he squeaked, touching his chest like she couldn’t possibly mean him.
She nodded and beamed at him. “Mmhmm! Hi!”
She walked over like she had all the time in the world—no rush, no pressure—and when she stopped in front of him, she took off her sunglasses and stuck out her hand.
“Hi,” she said, sweet and sunny. “My name’s Y/N L/N. It’s so, so nice to meet you.”
Bob’s mouth opened and closed a few times.
“I—I’m Bob. Lieutenant Robert Floyd. It’s—um—it’s nice to meet you too, ma’am—I mean—not ma’am, I just—”
She laughed softly and shook his hand. “Bob. I love that. You’re adorable.”
He looked like his entire brain just shut off.
“I’ve been meeting so many people,” she said, still holding his gaze. “Would you mind taking a photo with me?”
His eyes went wide. “With—me?”
She leaned in slightly, teasing. “Well, you are the cutie patootie, aren’t you?”
Phoenix absolutely lost it behind him.
“Y-Yes,” Bob said quickly. “I mean, sure! Of course! Yes.”
She handed her phone off to someone nearby and stepped beside him, slipping her arm through his like they’d done this a hundred times. “Ready?”
Bob didn’t know how to be ready for any of this. But the camera flashed, and she smiled up at him again.
“Thank you,” she said softly, like he’d just made her whole day. “You were the highlight of my visit.”
And just like that, she let go, gave him one last smile, and turned to walk back toward the group.
Bob stood frozen in place, flushed from his neck to his ears, still holding his helmet like it might float away.
Hangman clapped him on the back. “The Y/N L/N just called you a cutie patootie and took a solo picture with you. You better laminate that memory, Floyd.”
“I think I blacked out,” Bob muttered.
Phoenix leaned in, grinning. “If you don’t ask her out the next time she visits, I will.”
Rooster snorted. “Like hell you will. I’m still recovering.”
Bob adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers. “Is this real life?”
Fanboy pulled out his phone. “Buddy, the whole thing’s on video. You’re gonna be a meme by tonight.”
———
“America’s Sweetheart & Her Navy Sweetheart”
“Are we sure you want this one?”
Delaney—assistant, social media manager, therapist in crisis—tilted her head at the phone screen.
The photo was perfect.
Y/N looked radiant, obviously. But it was the guy beside her—tall, glasses slightly crooked, blushing like a Victorian debutante—that made the shot so unexpectedly adorable.
The world had seen her with presidents. With Oscar winners. With the Met Gala’s best-dressed. But no one had ever seen her like this.
Smiling softly. Relaxed. Standing next to someone who clearly had no idea how famous she was—or didn’t care.
“He’s so cute,” Y/N murmured, sipping from her iced coffee, sunglasses perched atop her head. She was scrolling through the pictures again like she hadn’t already hearted every single one.
Delaney stared. “You really want to post it?”
“I really do,” Y/N said, brightening.
“Caption?”
Y/N grinned.
Delaney’s eyes narrowed. “You already thought of one, didn’t you?”
Y/N said nothing. Just passed her a post-it.
Delaney read it once. Blinked. Then grinned like a devil.
⸻
@yourusername
📍Top Gun Naval Program
✨found my wingman✨
📸: @delaneydoesit
⸻
It took six minutes for the photo to hit one million likes. Ten minutes before #cutiepatootie trended on Twitter. By lunch, “Bob from the Navy” had a dedicated fan account and trending TikTok audio.
Y/N pretended not to notice.
She was lounging in her dressing room, reading scripts, but her phone buzzed every few seconds with a new mention. Every gossip site was foaming at the mouth. Paparazzi were now camped outside the base—looking for him.
“America’s Sweetheart Gets Starry-Eyed Over Navy Boy.”
“Who is Bob from Top Gun??”
“She Can Have Anyone—and She Picked This Guy?!”
Delaney popped back in with a smoothie and the numbers. “We’ve got 47 million views across platforms and about sixteen thousand girls crying over Bob’s blush.”
Y/N looked pleased. “Good for them.”
“You planning on going back there?”
She didn’t answer right away.
But then, with a coy smile and a glance toward the corner of the room—where Bob’s photo now lived quietly on her vanity—she said:
“I might have left something behind.”
————
Bob didn’t even make it through the hangar doors before he got tackled by a wave of phones.
“BOB. BRO. BOB. YOU’RE FAMOUS.”
“Have you seen Twitter?! You’re a meme now!”
Phoenix shoved a phone into his face. On the screen was a screengrab of the photo—the photo—captioned in Comic Sans:
“me when my celebrity crush notices me and I forget how to speak English 😍”
Bob blinked. “Is that… me?”
“You’re on TMZ,” Rooster called from across the room. “Twice.”
Hangman was grinning like the cat that ate the golden retriever. “My guy. You broke the internet. You broke it.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Bob muttered, cheeks already burning. “She just asked for a photo—”
“SHE POSTED IT,” Fanboy yelled, pointing at the giant screen someone had wheeled in. “With the caption ‘found my wingman,’ Bob! Her wingman!”
Payback looked personally offended. “I’ve been trying to go viral for years. This man just blushed and now he’s the Navy’s newest sex symbol.”
Bob pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—I’m not—”
“Shh,” Phoenix said, holding up her hand dramatically. “Wingman of the Year is speaking.”
“Guys—”
“No, seriously,” Rooster said, laughing, “what does it feel like to be America’s Boyfriend?”
“I’m gonna throw up,” Bob said earnestly.
Just then, Cyclone’s voice boomed from the hallway.
“Lieutenant Floyd.”
Everyone froze.
Bob straightened like he was about to be court-martialed.
“Yes, sir?”
Cyclone appeared, holding up a tablet with the photo in question still open on screen. “Would you care to explain why the Department of Defense is getting press requests for your dating history?”
Bob blinked. “I… I wouldn’t?”
Cyclone sighed, muttered something about “celebrities and chaos,” and walked off. But not before he added, “Tell her thanks for the recruiting spike.”
Everyone erupted again.
“She made you the poster boy for patriotism!” Fanboy whooped. “They’re calling you ‘Top Gun’s golden retriever boyfriend’ on TikTok!”
Bob buried his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare.”
Phoenix patted his back. “It’s a fairytale, sweetie. And she picked you.”
Bob peeked through his fingers. “Do you think… she was serious? About me being the highlight of her visit?”
Hangman, for once, didn’t joke.
“She could’ve taken a picture with anyone,” he said, voice unusually soft. “And she chose you. That means something.”
Bob blinked.
Then his phone buzzed. Again.
And when he looked down, his heart stopped.
A DM. From her.
Y/N L/N:
Hey, cutie patootie. Any chance I can come back for that second photo? 😉
Bob let out a noise that could only be described as a strangled squeak.
“Everything okay?” Phoenix asked.
He looked up. “She wants to come back.”
And just like that—chaos erupted again.
————
Bob had checked his reflection eight times before she arrived.
Phoenix had to physically take his glasses off his face to clean them herself. “Bob,” she said, “you’re fogging these up with your panic.”
“I’m not panicking,” he said, panicking.
“You’re wearing cologne.”
“It’s just—I thought I’d try something new.”
Rooster smirked. “It’s giving: ‘I’m calm, cool, and collected while my celebrity crush returns to base to maybe fall in love with me.’”
Hangman leaned against the lockers. “It’s giving: ‘he practiced what he’d say in the mirror all morning and he’s gonna forget every word the second she smiles.’”
“Thanks, guys,” Bob muttered, already red.
Then the hangar doors opened.
And she stepped through.
Y/N L/N. The Y/N L/N. Actress. Icon. Billionaire. Dressed casually like the cameras weren’t following her every move online. But what hit Bob the hardest wasn’t the press or the way the whole hangar paused just to look at her—it was the way she beelined straight for him.
Like she was looking for him.
“There you are,” she said with a grin. “Hi, Bob.”
The way she said his name—sweet and familiar, like she’d been thinking about it—nearly sent him to the floor.
“Hi,” he croaked.
She smiled brighter. “I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you today, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I—I work here.”
Y/N giggled, and Bob blinked like a deer in headlights.
“You’re so cute,” she whispered, like it wasn’t going to set off every alarm in his brain.
Phoenix watched it unfold with her arms crossed and a smug grin. “We’ve been saying.”
“Oh!” Y/N turned to the others. “You’re his squad, right? You all were so sweet last time.”
Rooster elbowed Bob. “We’ve got a good one here.”
“He’s our best guy,” Fanboy added. “Smartest in the air. Saved my ass twice.”
“Three times,” Payback corrected.
Hangman chimed in, half-teasing: “Don’t let the glasses fool you—guy’s got a heart of gold and he’s low-key the funniest one here.”
Bob, mortified, ducked his head. “They’re exaggerating.”
But Y/N wasn’t listening to them anymore. Her eyes were already locked back on Bob.
“You’re kind of a hero,” she said with a soft little shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal—but it was.
“I—I wouldn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to,” she smiled. “They already did.”
Then she caught sight of a jet behind him and gasped. “Is that yours?”
Her hand reached out instinctively—like she forgot about the cameras, the audience, all of it—and wrapped gently around his arm.
“Oh my God, is that the one you flew in? That’s so cool—can I see inside?”
Bob might’ve blacked out for a second.
“You wanna see my jet?” he said, dumbly.
“I mean, yeah,” she beamed. “I came back to visit you—and, okay, maybe the plane too.”
She was still holding his arm.
“Tell me everything,” she said, leaning in. “Like—what you do in there, how it works. Please. I’m so curious.”
Phoenix whispered, “Breathe, Bob.”
Rooster added, “This is the best day of my life.”
Bob swallowed hard. “I—I sit in the back. I’m the weapons systems officer. I help the pilot navigate, track targets, communicate with command. I—uh—I read a lot of maps.”
Y/N looked at him like he’d just recited Shakespeare.
“I love smart guys,” she said softly. “You’re just full of surprises, huh?”
Then she grinned. “Show me how it all works?”
Bob blinked. “I—y-yeah. Yeah, I can show you.”
And the second he helped her climb up the ladder into his jet, the rest of the squad turned around like we are NOT watching this man fall in love from five feet away.
She actually climbed in.
Like, willingly. With a bright-eyed smile and a soft little “Oop!” as Bob offered her a hand and helped her settle into his seat—his seat, the one no one but him ever sat in—and now she was swiveling her head around like this was the most exciting thing in the entire world.
“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, running her fingers over the side console, wide-eyed and glowing. “This is insane. I don’t even know what I’m looking at but I love it.”
Bob climbed in behind her, carefully easing into the front seat. His hands shook a little as he adjusted the straps of his harness—not because he was nervous, but because she was in his jet. Y/N L/N was literally sitting in the space he spent most of his life in, looking like she belonged there, like she might never want to leave.
“You sit back here?” she asked, pointing to the panel of screens and buttons in front of her.
“Yeah,” Bob said. “I—I manage all the tech. Radar, targeting systems, communication. Kind of like the guy behind the guy.”
She looked up, clearly impressed. “That sounds like a lot.”
“It is,” he admitted. “But I like it. It’s… it feels like where I’m supposed to be.”
Y/N smiled, this kind of soft, private smile—like she liked that answer way more than he meant her to. “That’s really cool.”
She looked at the helmet tucked beside his seat. Gently, she reached for it. “Can I…?”
“Oh! Um—yeah, of course,” Bob said quickly. “It might be a little big—”
He didn’t even finish the sentence before she was pulling it over her head with both hands and giggling as it sank just a little too far down her face.
“How do I look?”
Bob’s voice died in his throat.
“Perfect,” he said quietly.
Y/N pushed the visor up and blinked at him, and Bob almost forgot how to breathe again.
“I don’t get it,” she said after a beat, setting the helmet in her lap. “How are you not married? Or dating someone? Or at the very least, mobbed every time you walk outside?”
Bob flushed so hard he felt it in his scalp. “I—I don’t think people really notice me.”
“I notice you,” she said plainly, like it was a fact. “You’re thoughtful. Sweet. You have kind eyes. And you saved your friend’s life. You don’t think people notice, but I think you just don’t realize how worth noticing you are.”
Bob blinked. Stared. Tried not to pass out.
She smiled. “You’re blushing.”
“I—I’m always blushing,” he said faintly.
Y/N reached out, brushing her fingers gently against the sleeve of his flight suit. “I like it.”
And then—God—she just… rested her hand there. Like it was natural. Like it belonged. Like she wasn’t the most famous woman on Earth holding onto a guy who’d spent his whole life learning how to stay small.
Bob didn’t say anything.
He couldn’t.
Because her thumb was gently brushing across the patch on his arm.
And she was looking at him—really looking. Like he was someone she’d been waiting to find.
“Is it okay,” she asked gently, “if I take a picture in here?”
Y/N gave him a grateful smile and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “I won’t post anything classified. Promise.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re probably more careful than half the people who actually work here.”
She leaned back against the seat and angled the camera just right, catching her reflection in the canopy glass with all the panels glowing softly around her. A quick click. Then another. She turned slightly toward him.
“Do you mind getting one with me?”
Bob froze.
“In here, I mean,” she added quickly. “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable—”
“No!” he said a little too fast. “I mean—no, I don’t mind. Not at all.”
Y/N smiled like he just handed her the moon. “Okay, come here.”
He leaned back slightly, trying to get into the frame behind her without knocking anything important. The proximity alone nearly did him in—her shoulder brushing his chest, her phone held high between them, her perfume subtly filling the small space of the cockpit.
She angled the phone, checked the lighting, then whispered, “Smile.”
He did.
God help him, he did.
Click.
She glanced down at the picture and beamed. “This one’s my favorite.”
Bob didn’t even ask to see it. Just knowing he was her favorite anythingmade his head spin.
The rest of the visit flew by in a haze. She climbed down from the jet with his help—thanked him again, touched his arm again, asked the others about the air show schedule, then got whisked away to meet with the base commander for a quick tour. She hugged Phoenix on her way out. Promised she’d be back soon.
But just before she disappeared around the corner, she glanced back at Bob—gave him a little wave. Just for him.
And smiled.
Bob stood there long after she was gone, helmet still tucked under his arm, lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
Phoenix came to stand beside him, arms crossed.
“Hey, loverboy,” she said. “You might wanna check your phone.”
He blinked down, startled—and saw that he already had seven missed messages. Three missed calls. Two voicemails.
1. Y/N alone in the cockpit, head tilted playfully, sunglasses on, the helmet in her lap.
2. A shot of her and Bob together in the plane, his glasses slightly crooked, both of them smiling like they’d won the lottery.
3. A blurry candid of him helping her down from the ladder, one hand holding hers, the other steady at her waist.
The comments were already blowing up:
@selenagomez: oh she’s in love.
@pilotwivesunite: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WENT BACK FOR HIM
@aviationfan69: bob is all of us. we are bob. bob is america.
@ynlnupdates: can confirm she did say “he’s the cutest” out loud in front of everyone
@roosterdaddy: as a pilot and a man, I salute you, Bob.
⸻
Bob didn’t say anything.
Didn’t even look up from the screen.
Phoenix patted his back, amused. “You’re a national treasure now, baby. You better start practicing your red carpet smile.”
He was already blushing.
And somewhere across the base, Y/N was laughing as her assistant read the comments out loud, heart full, cheeks warm, and only one name echoing in her head:
Bob.
———
The hangar was quiet. Late afternoon light spilled through the high windows, casting golden stripes across the floor. Most of the squad had cleared out, letting the adrenaline of the day wear off in the locker rooms or the parking lot.
But Bob was still here. Still trying to breathe normally.
Because she was still here too.
Y/N lingered by the nose of the plane, running her fingers along the cool metal with a curious little smile, her assistant off somewhere taking calls. Her hair was up now, sunglasses on her head, and she looked impossibly cool even while doing absolutely nothing.
Bob didn’t realize he was staring until she turned.
And walked straight up to him.
“Hey,” she said softly, smiling like they were old friends. “I was hoping I’d catch you before I left.”
He blinked, managing a nod. “Y-Yeah. Still here.”
She tilted her head. “I was wondering if… it would be okay if I got your number?”
Bob stared.
Not because he didn’t hear her—but because every nerve in his body just lit up.
“My number?” he repeated, voice slightly cracked.
She nodded with a soft laugh. “You don’t have to say yes. I just— I’d like to talk again. If that’s okay.”
“Y-Yeah,” he said quickly, fumbling for his phone. “I mean—yes. Please. Of course.”
She handed him hers without hesitation.
He typed it in carefully, checking it twice. Then handed it back.
Y/N looked at the screen. “Bob Floyd,” she read aloud, smiling softly. “I’ll text you.”
He tried not to look as stunned as he felt. “Okay.”
She lingered for half a beat longer, then gave him the gentlest touch on the arm.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything today.”
And just like that—she was gone.
⸻
Two weeks passed.
No text.
No call.
No new post with his name anywhere.
At first, Bob kept checking. A dozen times a day. Every buzz in his pocket made his chest jump. But as days turned to a week—and then another—he stopped.
He just… stopped hoping.
She’s a billionaire, he reminded himself. She travels constantly. She probably forgot. Or changed her mind. Or—
Or it was just a sweet moment to her. Not… not something real.
He never said anything out loud. Just kept his head down, flew his drills, smiled politely when Hangman joked about his “Hollywood girlfriend.”
But inside?
He felt like he’d dreamed the whole thing up.
⸻
Until one night.
Bob was lying on his couch, glasses slipping down his nose, a rerun humming softly on the TV, when his phone lit up.
Unknown Number:
Hi Bob. It’s Y/N. I’m so, so sorry it took me this long to text you. Please don’t think I forgot. I’ve been to five countries in two weeks—Australia, Japan, Glasgow, New York, and now finally San Diego again.
I’ve been thinking about you this whole time.
Can I take you to dinner?
He read it twice.
Three times.
Then let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
His fingers hovered above the screen.
Then, finally—
Bob:
You had me worried.
A minute passed.
Then:
Y/N:
I know. I’m sorry.
Let me make it up to you?
And just like that…
Hope came roaring back.
———
Bob had never gotten dressed so slowly and so nervously in his life.
He changed shirts three times.
Debated cologne.
Put on a jacket, took it off. Put it on again.
He even cleaned his glasses twice, just in case. Because Y/N L/N—the most famous woman on the planet—texted him and said, Can I take you to dinner? Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
It wasn’t.
And it definitely wasn’t normal when she sent the location with a simple:
“Come hungry :)”
When he pulled up, Bob did a double take.
It was Joe’s Diner. A little 24-hour joint he knew well. Kind of rundown, all-day breakfast, the kind of place you could get pancakes and a cheeseburger at the same time. Local favorite.
But tonight?
The neon sign was glowing—and every booth was empty.
Except one.
Right in the corner.
With her.
She was already seated, sipping a milkshake with a red-and-white straw, grinning when she saw him through the glass.
Bob walked in slowly, trying not to trip over his own feet. “Hey…”
“Hi!” she said brightly, standing to greet him. She looked insane. Like she just stepped off a magazine cover—jeans, heels, a tight black top and diamonds like they were casual. Hair loose. Smile soft.
And still—somehow—completely down to earth.
“I hope this isn’t too much,” she said, biting her lip. “I tried to pick somewhere low-key. But when I got here it was packed and I got nervous and I kind of… rented the whole place out.”
“You what?”
She cringed playfully. “It was just a little panic move. I didn’t want people filming or asking for pictures while we were catching up, and I—I tipped!” she added quickly. “A lot! And I gave everyone working tonight $500 each. Just as a thank-you for letting me be a drama queen.”
Bob blinked.
“You rented out a diner… to get pancakes with me?”
She smiled. “Yeah. I missed you.”
He swallowed. “That’s… really nice.”
“You’re really nice.”
She sat back down, gesturing for him to slide in across from her. “I hope you like breakfast for dinner.”
“I do,” he said as he sat, heart pounding in his ears.
“Good,” she grinned. “I already ordered. I got waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns… and a milkshake.”
He blinked. “All that for you?”
“No,” she laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “For us.”
⸻
The food came fast—heaping plates of breakfast heaven—and Bob couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to her. Like nothing had changed. Like the weeks apart hadn’t happened. Like he wasn’t sitting across from the most beautiful, famous woman in the world while she poured syrup like a child and kicked her heel against his under the table.
She asked about his flights. His callsign. His favorite movie. If he liked dogs or cats. If he’d ever been to France.
And when he turned the questions on her, she answered just as openly.
Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. And Bob couldn’t stop smiling. Not once.
By the time they were finishing their second milkshake—sharing it this time—Bob didn’t want the night to end.
Neither did she.
Outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet—except for the low murmur of four very serious-looking bodyguards stationed at every possible entrance and exit.
They stood at full attention, one by the curb, two by the diner’s double doors, and one tailing discreetly behind as she walked with Bob to his car.
Bob had never felt so… important. Or awkward. Mostly awkward.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to look like he was floating on air.
“I had a really, really great time tonight,” she said softly, slowing her steps as they reached his car.
Bob nodded quickly. “Me too. I… yeah. It was amazing. The waffles, and the shake, and you—uh, not that you’re—no, I mean—you’re amazing, I just meant the diner—the night was amazing, with you, and—”
Y/N giggled, cutting off his ramble with a gentle touch to his forearm. “Bob,” she said, and he shut up immediately. “Can I…?”
Before he could ask what she meant, she leaned up and pressed the softest kiss to his cheek.
Bob went rigid.
She pulled back just a few inches and blinked at him, shy for the first time tonight. “Was that okay?” she asked, suddenly unsure. “I—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. That might’ve been—”
“That was more than fine,” Bob blurted out.
Her smile bloomed slow and warm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She paused. Tilted her head.
“…What if I actually kissed you?”
Bob blinked. Then swallowed. “Like… kiss kissed?”
She nodded.
“Oh my God please.”
She laughed—full and sweet—and before he could process it, she leaned in again, this time meeting his lips with hers.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t too much. It was… perfect. A little hesitant at first, then deeper when Bob finally remembered how to move. His hands hovered at her waist, not quite touching, until she pulled him just a little closer by the lapel of his jacket.
One of the bodyguards cleared his throat.
They pulled back, breathless.
She looked up at him through her lashes, smile dizzy and sure. “Now that’smore than fine.”
Bob was red. Like full-blown scarlet. But he was smiling, too.
“Should I… text you again?” she asked.
Bob nodded quickly. “Please.”
“I’ll try not to wait another two weeks.”
“I’ll survive,” he promised, and meant it a little too much.
She kissed him once more on the cheek for good measure before her security detail politely reminded her it was time to go.
But Bob stood by his car, lips tingling, heart thrumming, eyes locked on her retreating figure like he’d just watched a miracle walk into the night.
Because maybe he had.
———
Bob walked into the hangar the next morning like he’d just discovered heaven. Or touched it. Or made out with it behind a classic 1950s diner while four bodyguards pretended not to look.
He had that kind of dazed, floaty, not quite all the way here look about him. Hair tousled. Coffee half-sipped. Smiling to himself like an idiot.
And the squad? Oh, they noticed.
Phoenix clocked it the second he walked in. “No. No way.”
Payback leaned over. “Bro. What is that face?”
Bob blinked, snapped halfway back to earth. “What? What face?”
“You’re grinning,” Fanboy said, pointing. “You never grin. You… barely smile. You smirk at best.”
Rooster walked by with a protein bar and raised a brow. “Did you get laid?”
“Bradley!” Phoenix hissed.
Bob choked on air. “No! I—God, no! I mean—not no, I just—wow, what?!”
Phoenix crossed her arms and smirked. “Okay, so not laid. But something happened.”
Bob’s ears were already going pink. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Oh, it’s a huge deal,” Payback grinned. “You haven’t even taken your backpack off. You’ve just been standing there smiling at the floor like a golden retriever in love.”
Fanboy leaned in. “Tell us.”
Bob hesitated. Bit the inside of his cheek. Then—
“She kissed me.”
“OH—”
It was like a bomb went off.
“NO. NO WAY.” Rooster shouted.
Phoenix straight-up slapped his arm. “You’re lying!”
Bob held up his hands. “Swear to God. At the diner.”
“She kissed you?” Payback repeated.
Bob’s smile got a little dreamy again. “Yeah.”
Fanboy let out a slow whistle. “On the cheek or…?”
Bob didn’t answer.
“Oh my god,” Phoenix whispered. “You got kissed kissed.”
Phoenix looked ready to explode. “Okay, so when’s the wedding?”
Fanboy gasped. “Did she post again?!”
Everyone immediately whipped their phones out, and sure enough—
@ynln
📍San Diego
🎬 had to see my pilot again before flying out to shoot the next movie 🤭💋
[photo of her in the cockpit next to Bob, hand on his shoulder, both of them beaming — and Bob? Blushing like hell]
And then the caption below the pic:
@ynln:
also, someone tell lieutenant floyd that i’m gonna marry him if he keeps being this cute
Rooster screamed. Phoenix looked like she was going to pass out. Fanboy started pacing in a circle with his hands on his head. Even Payback was speechless.
Bob stood there, stunned silent, staring at the screen.
Phoenix grabbed his arm. “She posted that? About you?!”
Bob nodded faintly, barely breathing.
Fanboy turned to him, deadly serious. “Do you know what this means?”
Bob blinked. “That… she likes me?”
“That you’re America’s Boyfriend now,” Fanboy said. “And also maybe her future husband.”
Payback grinned. “How’s it feel to be the luckiest man alive?”
Bob, still dazed, just whispered: “Unreal.”
———
Bob was pretty sure he was dreaming when the email showed up in his inbox.
Subject: 🎬 You’re Cordially Invited
From: Y/N’s personal assistant
Ms. Y/N L/N formally invites Lieutenant Robert Floyd and members of the Top Gun program to attend the official U.S. premiere of her upcoming film “Starlight Syndrome” in Los Angeles, California. Transportation will be arranged. Tuxedos required. Press will be present. Photos encouraged. Please RSVP within 48 hours.
Phoenix screamed when she found out. Literally screamed. Rooster nearly choked on his gum. Hangman tried to act unfazed, but even he ended up checking the mirror twice after hearing what the dress code was.
But Bob?
Bob just stared at the invite like it was written in gold. Like it might disappear if he blinked.
It had been two weeks since their diner night. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of maybe she forgot or maybe it didn’t mean as much to her. He’d told himself not to get his hopes up. He tried not to check his phone. Tried not to look at the diner pic she left in his messages. Tried not to imagine her red carpet photos with someone else.
And then—this.
“You okay, Bob?” Fanboy asked, glancing at him.
Bob looked up slowly, blinking back into reality. “…She remembered.”
⸻
Cut to:
Red Carpet Night
She’s in some GOWN that looks like it cost six months of rent. Diamond earrings. Hair curled like old Hollywood. Makeup perfect, but not tooperfect—still the soft-eyed, sweet-talking girl who once whispered, “sorry, was that fine?” before kissing him behind a diner.
Bob steps out of the black SUV in a fitted tuxedo he nearly passed out putting on. Everyone looks great, but the second the press cameras see him—
“Lieutenant Floyd!”
“Bob Floyd, over here!”
“Are you the pilot she mentioned in her caption last week?!”
“Are you dating Y/N?!”
Bob freezes. Phoenix leans in. “Don’t lock up, just smile and wave like a politician.”
And then—she’s there.
Coming down the carpet in heels that cost more than his car, glowing,smiling, her eyes scanning through the crowd until they land right on him.
She walks right up to him and grins. “Hey, Lieutenant Floyd.”
Bob clears his throat. “Hey, Ms. L/N.”
She laughs softly, slipping her arm through his like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “So glad you made it.”
“You invited me,” he says dumbly.
“And you came,” she says, then pauses. “Sorry I didn’t text sooner. Press tour had me all over the globe. again. I didn’t forget you. Not for a second.”
Bob blinks. “You didn’t?”
She leans in, brushing her lips against his cheek again, soft and familiar. “Of course not. I’ve been thinking about you the whole time.”
And the flashbulbs? They explode.
——
As soon as she spots the squad getting out of the black SUV, she beams.Instantly waves them over, not caring that half of Hollywood is watching.
“There they are!” she says to the press with a laugh, her earrings glittering as she turns. “These are my guys!”
She doesn’t wait for them to approach—she walks toward them in her heels like she’s floating. Her team freaks out behind her. “Wait, Y/N! Stay in your mark!”
But she just waves them off. She’s on a mission.
“Rooster, Fanboy, Phoenix, Coyote, Payback, Hangman…” she’s pointing at each of them, remembering all their names. “Come take pictures with me—please. I need at least a hundred.”
They’re all caught off guard, not used to being the ones asked for photos, but they rush in, adjusting ties, smoothing hair, suddenly aware this moment will be everywhere.
They take group shots, laughing, hyping each other up. She makes them laugh for the wide angles, does one where they’re all pointing at the camera like a boy band. And then:
“Okay. Solo shots. Come on.”
She poses with each one—smiling with Phoenix, pulling Hangman into a fake headlock, matching sunglasses with Rooster—but when it’s Bob’s turn?
She turns fully toward him, voice dropping just slightly. “Hi again.”
He’s already red. “Hi.”
She wraps her arms around him, warm and confident. “This okay?”
He nods quickly. “Y-Yeah.”
“Good,” she whispers, and leans her head on his shoulder for the photo.
The cameras go insane.
Click. Flash. She’s giggling in another. Click. Flash. She’s turned toward him, both hands holding his now. Click. Flash. One more, and she hugs him again, resting her cheek briefly against his chest.
“You’re gonna break the internet,” Phoenix mutters behind them.
Bob’s eyes are wide. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” Hangman says, actually impressed. “You look like the lead in a romance movie.”
⸻
And when the photos hit Instagram that night?
Her official account posts a carousel.
📸🎞️ Premiere night magic
🎬: #StarlightSyndrome
💫: Thank you to the real-life heroes who showed up tonight—your support means the world to me.
(Also yes, Bob gives the best hugs.)
swipe ➡️
First photo: her and the whole squad, all grinning.
Second: her arm-in-arm with Bob, her cheek against his shoulder.
Third: them mid-laugh, eyes only on each other.
Fourth: just Bob, caught off guard in a tux, smiling small but real.
———
The venue is glowing—low golden lights, deep velvet couches, a live band in the corner playing sultry jazz that occasionally slides into pop covers. The crowd is dressed to the nines, champagne everywhere. But she’s not interested in Hollywood small talk. Not tonight.
Because when she walks in and sees them—the squad huddled around a table near the back, already laughing with drinks in hand—her smile lights up the whole room.
“There’s my table,” she says to her assistant, ignoring every producer who tries to pull her away. “Don’t let anyone drag me off. I’m going there.”
And she does.
She walks right over, hugs Phoenix from behind, taps Rooster’s glass with her own. Bob stands when she gets there—of course he does—and she gives him a grin before leaning in and kissing his cheek.
“Hi, Bob.”
He’s already red. “Hi. You—you look stunning.”
“So do you.” She sits right next to him. Doesn’t even hesitate.
⸻
She makes the rounds from there—laughing with Coyote over bad pick-up lines, cheers-ing Payback when he dares her to take a shot. She dances with everybody.
At one point, she pulls Fanboy into a spin. At another, she drags Phoenix out for a full choreographed moment when the band switches to Beyoncé. She even twirls Rooster like he’s the belle of the ball and he goes with it.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” Hangman asks.
“On set. You think I’m gonna waste those choreography lessons?” she quips, grabbing his hand and flipping it to lead him into a swing move before pointing dramatically to Bob.
“Okay—my turn. Come on, Bob.”
He freezes. “What?”
“Dance with me.”
“I—uh, I don’t really dance—”
“Lucky for you, I do,” she teases, grabbing his hand. “Let me lead?”
He can’t say no. So he lets her pull him in. It’s awkward at first—Bob trying not to step on her toes, her laughing gently when he almost trips—but she never lets go.
“You’re doing great.”
“You’re lying,” he mutters.
She laughs and leans closer, her forehead brushing his. “I don’t lie to you.”
⸻
Eventually they all collapse back at the table, flushed from dancing, laughing too loud, sipping drinks with messy garnishes and half-melted ice.
She looks around at all of them—grinning, bickering, teasing each other—and then looks at Bob beside her.
“This is my favorite table in the room.”
His chest tightens a little. “Yeah?”
She nods, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. “And you’re my favorite part of it.”
He doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he could, not with his throat tightening and his heart thudding like that. But he doesn’t need to.
Because she’s still holding his hand under the table.
———
The after party was in full swing—music pulsing, people dancing, drinks flowing—but Bob had somehow ended up on the balcony. He wasn’t avoiding anyone. He just… needed air. Or maybe he needed to think. About the night. About her.
And speak of the devil—there she was.
She stepped out, her gown glimmering under the soft patio lights, her heels clicking gently on the tiles. She was holding two champagne flutes and passed one to him like it was the most casual thing in the world.
“You disappeared,” she said, smiling like she already knew where he’d gone.
Bob cleared his throat. “Just wanted some quiet.”
“Good. I needed a break too.” She leaned on the railing beside him, shoulder just brushing his. “This was nice. All of this.”
He smiled. “It really was.”
Then she turned slightly toward him, something playful in her voice.
“Do you think your friends like me?”
Bob blinked. “Like you? Are you kidding? They’re obsessed with you.”
She laughed, tipping her head back slightly. “What about you?”
And that was when it happened.
He looked right at her, soft-eyed, serious as ever, and—
“I was obsessed before I even met you.”
There was a beat of silence. A pause. Then his entire face turned red.
“Wait—I didn’t mean— I mean, I did, but not like—I just meant—”
She was smiling, watching him unravel, clearly trying not to laugh.
“I mean, I’ve always admired you. A lot. Not just how you look—God, not just that—I mean you’re obviously—you know—but you’re really… you’re so kind. And smart. And I just—okay. Yeah. I’m gonna stop talking now.”
She took a small step closer.
“Bob?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you said it.”
He blinked. “Wait—what?”
“I’ve been obsessed with you since you stuttered out your name that first day.”
And then she clinked her glass gently against his.
“To quiet balconies and flustered pilots.”
Bob leaned against the balcony railing of her rented house in San Diego, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass of water, the other loosely tucked into his pocket. She stood beside him, the hem of her dress fluttering in the warm breeze, her elbow barely brushing his. They’d been talking about nothing and everything for the past hour. He had never felt more at ease.
Then his phone buzzed in his back pocket.
He glanced at the screen. Mom.
“Give me one sec,” he murmured, stepping away a little, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mom—”
Her eyes were on him immediately. She didn’t even try to hide it. She could see the way his body stiffened before she could hear anything, see the way his free hand shot to his mouth, pressing against it hard like he could physically hold the sound inside.
His knees nearly buckled. He leaned hard against the balcony wall, his face dropping out of sight.
“Bob?” she asked softly, already moving.
He didn’t answer. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the wood with a dull thud.
She was there instantly, no hesitation, both hands coming to his shoulders. “Bob—hey. Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, look at me.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “What happened?”
He turned to her, eyes already glassy, and in a choked whisper, he finally got it out.
“It’s my grandpa.”
A beat.
“He’s gone.”
The silence that followed was still—but not empty. She pulled him into her arms without a second thought, his face buried into the curve of her neck as his shoulders began to shake. Not a full sob at first—just breathless, body-wracking grief that broke through the careful calm he always carried.
“I’m here,” she whispered, over and over, her hands running up and down his back, her heart splintering for him. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Shhh… I’m not leaving. I’ve got you.”
Minutes passed like that. She didn’t rush him. Didn’t speak unless he needed it. Just held him, solid and unwavering, while the sky dimmed behind them.
When his breathing finally slowed, he still hadn’t let go. His cheek was pressed against her shoulder, and his voice was barely audible.
“C-Can you come with me?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Of course I will,” she said, tightening her arms around him. “Just tell me when we’re leaving.”
⸻
The next morning, her team was already mobilized before sunrise.
Flights were canceled. Meetings postponed. Her stylist sent condolences. Her assistant was on the phone coordinating with security.
They boarded her private jet just after noon—Bob sitting quietly by the window, hands clasped in his lap, while she curled into the seat next to him, fingers laced gently through his.
The six security guards kept a respectful distance. No press knew what was going on. She made sure of it.
The funeral was quiet and heartbreaking. Bob’s family welcomed her immediately, touched by her presence and her grace. She stayed two full weeks—meeting cousins, helping his mom with errands, holding his hand through every difficult moment. She was dressed simply, spoke softly, and never once made it about her.
She was just his—the girl who didn’t blink when he fell apart, who flew across the country to sit beside him at the hardest table he’d ever faced.
And every night, when the house fell quiet, she sat next to him on the porch swing with two mugs of tea. She never said too much.
Just enough.
———
It was late. Almost midnight. The crickets had taken over the soundtrack of the sleepy Texas town, and the porch swing creaked every so often with the rhythm of the night.
Bob had gone inside to help his mom with something in the kitchen, leaving her sitting alone with a cup of tea she’d made herself at this point. Familiar now. Natural.
The screen door opened behind her, and she turned to see a woman—older, warm-eyed, and sharp in that matriarchal way. Bob’s Aunt Carol.
“Mind if I sit?” she asked.
“Please,” Y/N said instantly, scooting to make room. “Of course.”
Carol sat down with a sigh, her hands folded over her lap. She looked at the actress—the actress—the same one Bob had had posters of on his bedroom wall since he was sixteen—and gave her a long, thoughtful once-over.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said gently.
Y/N smiled, not offended in the slightest. “I get that a lot.”
Carol nodded, still watching her. “You’re sweet. Not just in a polite kind of way. I can tell. You see people. You saw him.”
She swallowed, caught off guard. “I… I hope so.”
“He’s always been our quiet one,” Carol continued, glancing toward the house. “Shy. Gentle. Loves deeper than he lets on. Lost his dad young. Took it hard. Carried more than he ever should’ve.”
Y/N blinked back sudden emotion, nodding slowly.
“You holding him like that?” Carol said softly. “Out there when that call came? I saw it. I know what that meant.”
Y/N pressed her lips together, heart tight in her chest.
Carol leaned in slightly. “So I just have one question for you.”
“Okay,” Y/N said, barely above a whisper.
“Are you gonna break my nephew’s heart?”
The question didn’t sting. It settled heavy. Honest.
Y/N looked her dead in the eyes, shoulders square, voice unwavering. “No, ma’am. I’d rather someone break mine first.”
Carol sat back, studying her for one long moment.
Then she smiled. “Good. Then you’re welcome here. Anytime.”
Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
From inside, Bob’s laugh echoed faintly through the walls. She turned toward the sound, like gravity had shifted just slightly in his direction.
Carol watched her for another beat and said, “You love him already, don’t you?”
She didn’t deny it.
Didn’t even look away.
“…Yeah,” Y/N murmured, lips curling just barely. “I think I do.”
———
The house had quieted, humming low with the sounds of settling: dishwasher running, floorboards groaning under the weight of memories. The kind of silence that only came after a long day filled with too many emotions.
Bob stopped just outside the guest room, like he always did. He never let her walk alone, not even down the hall in his childhood home.
She turned and faced him at the door, her hand still on the knob. Her expression was unreadable—soft, but serious.
“Can you come in for a second?” she asked.
His heart stuttered.
He hesitated for half a breath too long.
“…Yeah. Sure.”
He stepped inside, standing awkwardly near the dresser while she sat on the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to sit next to her, and when he did, the mattress dipped with the weight of what he thought was coming.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, trying to keep it neutral, but his voice betrayed him.
She folded her hands in her lap, took a breath. “There’s something I need to say. And I’m a little nervous, so please don’t interrupt, okay?”
Bob nodded immediately. Scared stiff.
She met his eyes. Really met them.
“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she started. “I didn’t expect to come to a Navy base and meet someone like you. And I definitely didn’t expect that you’d be the one person I couldn’t get out of my head.”
His brows furrowed slightly, unsure. Guarded.
She went on.
“And when I asked for your number, I meant to text you the next day. But things snowballed. Press junkets, red-eyes, interviews… I didn’t even have time to breathe. And I thought about you every single day.”
Bob’s throat moved with a quiet swallow.
She scooted a little closer on the bed, her knee brushing his. “I know this isn’t normal. None of this is. I have six bodyguards and a schedule that’s insane, and you fly jets for a living and barely look at your phone.”
That made him smile, just a little.
“But I want to try,” she said. “I want you. I don’t care about the noise or the press or how different our lives look on paper. I care about the way you treat me. The way you look at me like I’m just a person. The way you make me feel safe without trying.”
He was frozen. Wide-eyed. She reached for his hand, gently easing it into hers.
“I don’t know how this will work,” she said, voice softer now. “But if you want to try, too… I’m in. No matter what.”
Bob blinked fast, then looked down at their joined hands like he couldn’t quite believe they were real. “I thought… I thought you were about to say this wasn’t gonna work,” he admitted.
She smiled. “I kind of figured you’d panic.”
“I was preparing myself for the worst,” he laughed nervously. “Like full breakup speech.”
She shook her head and leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to his. “No breakup. Just… beginning.”
He pulled back slightly so he could look at her, really look. And then, voice barely a whisper:
“I’ve wanted this since the moment you called me a cutie patootie in front of everyone.”
Summary: You need a fake boyfriend for your sister’s wedding. Jake Seresin, your childhood best friend, is all too happy to play the part—until pretending starts to feel dangerously real. One bed. Old feelings. A week of dancing around the truth. You think he’s out of reach. He’s just been waiting for you to see him.
Themes: fake dating, bestfriends to lovers, pining, slow burn, fluff
I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I did writing it! It's been my first finished fic IN DECADES. I will still post in parts because my conscious self has to keep re-reading and re-writing parts. Any feedback is always appreciated and I am just happy you are all here. Thank you!!! <3
Note: Links in RED are SMUT (or at least half of it)
summary: reader works in navy comms and jake falls in love with your voice ♡( ◡‿◡ )
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
“Dagger Two, this is Tower. Radio check, over.”
You adjusted your headset, scanning the screen in front of you as you waited for the response. Second week at North Island, and you were still getting used to the callsigns, the voices, the particular rhythm of these pilots.
“Tower, Dagger Two. Loud and clear. How me?”
The voice was smooth, confident—maybe a little too confident. You checked your roster. Dagger Two: Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, callsign Hangman.
“Dagger Two, read you lima charlie. Standby for departure clearance.”
“Copy, standing by.”
Professional. Clean. Exactly how it should be.
Over the next forty minutes, you guided Hangman and his team through their training exercise. Hangman was… chatty. More than most.
“Tower, Dagger Two. You know, you’ve got a great voice for this. Very authoritative.”
You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. “Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. Confirm heading two-seven-zero.”
“Heading two-seven-zero confirmed. Just saying, it’s nice to have someone competent up there.”
“Dagger Two, save the commentary for the debrief.”
You heard him laugh over the radio. “Yes ma’am. Hangman is buttoned up.”
He wasn’t, really. Over the next several flights that week, you learned that Hangman always had something to say. But he was also sharp—never missed a check-in, never fumbled coordinates, always three steps ahead. The banter was just… extra.
“Tower, Dagger Two. Requesting flyby.”
“Negative, Dagger Two. The pattern is full.”
“Come on, Tower. Just one?”
“Dagger Two, that’s a negative. Stop asking.”
“You’re breaking my heart here.”
“Your heart will survive. Bring it around for landing, heading one-eight-zero.”
“Heading one-eight-zero. You know, one of these days I’m gonna find out who you are.”
“Focus on your landing, Dagger Two.”
Friday night. The Hard Deck was packed, and you were nursing a beer while Phoenix told a story about Rooster’s latest landing that had gone slightly sideways.
“I’m telling you, he almost clipped the carrier deck. Swears up and down it was textbook, but I was right there—”
“It sounds like Rooster,” you said, grinning. You’d met Natasha—Phoenix—during your first week since you moved bases. She’d shown up at the tower to dispute a training score and you’d liked her immediately: sharp, no-nonsense, with a wicked sense of humor. She’d taken you under her wing, introducing you to the good coffee spots on base and insisting you needed to “actually have a life outside of work.”
Hence the Hard Deck on a Friday night.
“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix said, nodding toward the door where Rooster had just walked in with a few other pilots. “Brace yourself. When the squad’s all here, it gets loud.”
You watched as they made their way to the pool table—Rooster with his ridiculous mustache, Fanboy excitedly explaining something while Bob listened with quiet interest, Payback and Coyote already bantering back and forth about who gets next game, and—
And a blond guy who moved through the bar like he owned it, that easy confidence in every step.
“That’s Hangman,” Phoenix said, following your gaze. Her voice had gone slightly flat. “Total player. Goes through women like he’s collecting trading cards. We fly together, but that doesn’t mean I like him.”
“You work with him?”
“Unfortunately. He’s a good pilot—one of the best, actually—but his ego could fill a hangar.” She took a sip of her beer. “Why? Please tell me you’re not interested.”
“No, I just—” You paused as Hangman laughed at something Rooster said, and that sound.
You knew that sound.
“Oh God,” you said.
“What?”
“That’s Dagger Two.”
Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Wait. That’s your chatty pilot? The one who keeps trying to flirt over comms?”
“I wouldn’t say flirt—”
“You literally told me yesterday, and I quote, ‘if Dagger Two makes one more comment about my voice, I’m going to revoke his radio privileges.’”
“That was— I was exaggerating.”
Phoenix was grinning now, clearly delighted. “Oh, this is perfect. Hangman has no idea he’s been annoying you for two weeks.”
“Nat, don’t—”
But Rooster had spotted Phoenix and was waving her over. Phoenix grabbed your arm, hauling you up. “Come on. This is going to be hilarious.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
The group made room as you approached, Rooster clapping Phoenix on the shoulder. “Took you long enough. We’re already getting destroyed at pool and need backup.”
“That’s because Hangman keeps calling impossible shots,” Bob said with a small smile on his face.
“They’re not impossible if I make them,” the blond guy—Hangman—said. Then his eyes landed on you, and that easy smile appeared. “Hey. I’m Jake. Don’t think we’ve met.”
Phoenix was practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Jake, this is my friend. She just transferred here a couple weeks ago. Works in the tower.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand.
The moment you spoke, Jake’s expression shifted. His eyes widened, his head tilted slightly, and you watched recognition dawn across his face like sunrise.
“Wait,” he said, his grin spreading slowly as he shook your hand, holding it maybe a second longer than necessary. “‘Your heart will survive.’ Tower. It’s you.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you absolutely do.” He stepped closer, completely ignoring Phoenix’s delighted snort. “That voice. Two weeks I’ve been listening to that voice, and here you are.”
“I told you to focus on flying.”
His laugh was the same one you’d heard over the radio a dozen times, but richer in person, warmer. “This is— I can’t believe this. Here I was thinking Tower was some grizzled veteran who’d seen it all, and instead you’re—” He stopped himself, but his eyes said the rest.
Rooster leaned over to Phoenix. “Is he… blustering?”
“I think he might be,” Phoenix whispered back, looking fascinated.
Coyote sidled up next to Jake with a knowing smirk. “Hangman’s actually speechless. Someone write this down.”
“I’m not speechless,” Jake protested.
“You kind of are, man,” Fanboy added, grinning as he chalked his pool cue.
You studied Jake for a moment. He seemed genuinely surprised, genuinely pleased. But Phoenix had warned you.
Player. Heartbreaker. The kind of guy who knew exactly what to say.
“Well, now you know,” you said. “Mystery solved.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I have one.”
“Another one, then. After that one.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He didn’t push, just settled back against the pool table like he had all the time in the world, though his eyes kept finding their way back to you.
“Fair enough. You any good at pool? We could use someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“She’s terrible at pool,” Phoenix interjected, grinning. “But I’ll play. You and me, Hangman. Let’s see if you can back up all that talk.”
As Phoenix and Jake started setting up, Rooster moved closer to you.
“Fair warning: those two are competitive. This might get ugly.”
“Nat can handle herself.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Phoenix.”
You glanced at him, confused, but he was already watching Jake, who kept looking over at you between shots, like he was making sure you were still there.
You thought that would be the end of it. One conversation, curiosity satisfied, everyone moves on.
You were wrong.
Jake started showing up. Not in an obvious way—he was too smart for that. He’d just… appear. At the coffee cart you frequented before your shift. At the Hard Deck on Friday nights, always gravitating toward wherever you and Phoenix were sitting. At the O-Club when Nat dragged you to some mandatory fun event.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he’d say, like it was pure coincidence.
“It’s the base coffee cart, Hangman. Not exactly a secret location.”
“Jake. You can call me Jake, you know. When we’re not on comms.”
“I’m aware of your name.”
“Just making sure. You want anything? I’m buying.”
“I can buy my own coffee.”
“I know you can. I’m asking if you want me to.”
You’d usually say no. Sometimes you’d say yes, just to see what he’d do. He never made it weird, never acted like you owed him anything. Just handed you the coffee and asked about your day.
Phoenix noticed immediately.
“He’s like a puppy,” she said one afternoon, watching Jake walk away after delivering your usual order without you even asking. “A very tall, very blond puppy.”
“He’s just being friendly.”
“Uh-huh. Is that why he hasn’t looked at another woman in three weeks?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Hangman—king of the one-night stand, collector of phone numbers—hasn’t so much as glanced at anyone else since he met you.” Phoenix leaned back in her chair. “It’s actually kind of freaking the guys out.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m really not. Ask Bob. He’s been keeping track.”
You refused to think too hard about what that might mean.
Over the radio, though, nothing changed.
“Tower, Dagger Two. How’s your morning?”
“Dagger Two, maintain radio discipline. You’re clear for takeoff, runway two-niner.”
“Copy that, Tower. Runway two-niner. Just saying, hope you liked the coffee earlier.”
“Dagger Two.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
It was Rooster who brought it up first during their next squadron meeting.
They were at the Hard Deck, the usual Friday night crowd, and Jake had barely glanced at the brunette who’d been making eyes at him from the bar for the past twenty minutes.
“Hangman,” Rooster said, setting down his beer. “You feeling okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Because that girl over there is definitely interested and you haven’t even looked at her.”
Jake glanced over briefly. “Not my type.”
Phoenix nearly choked on her drink. “Since when do you have a type beyond ‘breathing’?”
“Funny.”
But then the door opened, and Jake’s attention snapped toward it immediately. His whole posture changed—straightened up, ran a hand through his hair.
You walked in, laughing at something on your phone, completely oblivious.
“Oh my god,” Phoenix said, even though she’d seen this exact reaction a dozen times now. “You’ve got it so bad.”
“What?”
“You’re making moon eyes at my friend.”
“I don’t make moon eyes.”
“You absolutely make moon eyes,” Rooster said, grinning now. “How long has this been going on?”
“There’s nothing going on. We’re friends.”
Bob, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, spoke up. “Friends.” There was a knowing quality to his tone, subtle but unmistakable.
Jake shot him a look. “Yes, Bob. Friends. Some of us have those.”
“Some of us don’t turn into golden retrievers every time those friends walk into a room,” Payback added.
Coyote leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with an amused grin. “I’ve known you for years, Hangman. Never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” Jake asked defensively.
“Like you actually care,” Fanboy chimed in, exchanging a look with Coyote. “It’s weird. But also kind of nice?”
“I hate all of you.”
Phoenix was watching him with a calculating expression. “You’re serious. You actually like her.”
“Of course I like her. She’s—” He stopped, seeming to realize he was about to prove their point. “She’s nice.”
“She is nice,” Phoenix agreed. “She’s also one of my best friends, which means if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your callsign gets changed to Grounded.”
“Good. It should be.” Phoenix leaned forward, her expression serious. “I’m not kidding, Hangman. She’s not one of your usual conquests. She’s—”
“I know,” Jake said, and his voice had gone quiet. Serious. “Trust me, I know. Why do you think I haven’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m trying to do this right.”
Phoenix blinked. In all the years she’d known Jacob Seresin, she’d never heard him sound like that. “Oh. You’re really serious.”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” She studied him for a long moment. “Okay. But I’m still watching you.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
But he was already up, making his way across the bar to where you stood.
You saw him coming and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Which was becoming a problem, actually—how much you didn’t mind when he showed up.
“Hey,” Jake said, that easy smile in place but something softer in his eyes. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
“It’s Friday. I’m here most Fridays with Nat.”
“Right. Yeah. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m about to order one.”
“So that’s a yes?”
You rolled your eyes, but you were fighting a smile. “Sure, Hangman. You can buy me a drink.”
His whole face lit up like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.
From across the bar, you caught Phoenix watching with a knowing smirk. You made a mental note to interrogate her later about whatever that look meant.
The thing was, Jake was… different than you’d expected.
Sure, he had the callsign and the reputation and the smile that could probably stop traffic. But when it was just the two of you—usually with Phoenix somewhere nearby, watching like a protective older sister—he wasn’t Hangman.
He was just Jake.
He asked questions—real ones, not the smooth-talking kind meant to impress. He wanted to know about your hometown, your family, why you’d joined the Navy, what you wanted to do after. He listened when you talked, actually listened, his green eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the world.
And he told you things too. About growing up in Texas, about learning to fly, about why he flew the way he did.
“I know what they say about me,” he said one night. You and Phoenix had stayed late at the Hard Deck, and she’d stepped away to take a call, leaving you and Jake alone on the deck overlooking the beach. “Hangman. Like I leave people hanging.”
“Do you?”
“In the air? Yeah. Sometimes. Because I know I’m good enough to get the job done alone.” He picked up a handful of sand that had blown onto the deck railing, let it run through his fingers. “But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because… if I’m the one taking the risk, then no one else has to.”
You looked at him—really looked at him. At the way his jaw tightened, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes.
“That’s lonely,” you said quietly.
He did look at you then. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Something shifted between you in that moment. Something that made your chest feel tight and your breath catch and oh no, you thought.
Oh no.
Phoenix returned a moment later, taking one look at both of you and raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t say anything, just settled back into her chair and changed the subject.
Later, when Jake had left and it was just the two of you walking to your cars, Phoenix bumped your shoulder.
“So.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Nat.”
“He’s different with you. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s actually trying to be a real person instead of just Hangman.” She paused. “I know I gave you the warning about him. And I meant it—the old Hangman, the one who went through women like they didn’t matter? I’d tell you to run. But this…” She shook her head. “Maybe people can change.”
“You think I should give him a chance?”
“I think you already are. I’m just saying… I wouldn’t hate it. If you two figured things out.” She grinned. “But if he screws it up, I get to kick his ass in training. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“He’s got it bad,” Rooster said two months later, watching Jake watch you from across the rec room. You were completely focused on the tablet in your hands, reviewing flight logs while Phoenix looked over your shoulder and pointed something out. Oblivious.
“It’s kind of painful to witness,” Fanboy agreed, shaking his head. “How long has this been going on?”
After a short pause, Bob spoke. "Three months? Maybe four?"
“And he hasn’t even tried anything?”
Phoenix, who’d joined them, shook her head. “Nope. He just… follows her around like a puppy. Gets her coffee. Listens to her talk about radio frequencies like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Hangman?” Rooster asked.
“Right?” Phoenix settled into a chair, still watching. “I gave him the shovel talk, like, six times. Told him if he hurt her, I’d never forgive him. You know what he said?”
“What?”
“He said he’d never forgive himself either.”
“Damn,” Payback said. “He’s really gone.”
Coyote whistled low. “Never thought I’d see the day. Hangman actually settling down for someone.”
“He’s going to crash and burn,” Rooster said. “She has no idea how he feels.”
“Oh, she knows,” Phoenix said. “She just doesn’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Hangman. And she’s…” Phoenix paused, trying to find the right words. “She’s careful. She doesn’t trust easy. And Jake’s reputation isn’t exactly helping.”
"I think it's nice. He's actually trying," Bob said, watching as Jake moved closer to you, saying something that made you laugh.
“He better be,” Phoenix said. “Because if he breaks her heart, reputation change or not, I’ll break him.”
You didn’t believe it.
Sure, Jake was… around. A lot. And yes, he’d stopped flirting with other women—Phoenix had confirmed that, even seemed pleased about it. And okay, maybe your heart did this stupid flutter thing every time you heard his voice over the radio or saw him waiting by the coffee cart in the morning.
But Jacob Seresin didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. This was just… friendly. He was being friendly.
The fact that his hand would linger when he handed you your coffee, or that he’d started texting you good morning every day, or that he’d shown up with soup when you’d mentioned feeling under the weather—that was just how he was.
Probably.
“You’re an idiot,” Phoenix said, not for the first time. You were in her apartment, having your weekly movie night, and she’d paused the film just to give you this look.
“I’m realistic.”
“He brought you soup!”
“He’s nice.”
“He’s not nice! He’s Hangman! He’s only nice to you!” Phoenix grabbed your shoulders. “Listen to me. I have known that man for years. Years. I have seen him go through women without learning their last names. I have watched him charm his way out of consequences and into beds without a second thought. And I have never—not once—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
“Nat, really—”
“I’m serious. He’s different now. With you. And I know his reputation scares you, but people can change. He’s changing. For you.”
You wanted to believe her. God, you wanted to believe her.
But wanting something and trusting it were two very different things.
It was a Wednesday when everything changed.
You were in the tower, middle of a routine training exercise, when the alarm sounded.
“Dagger Two, Dagger Two, this is Tower. We have reports of a bird strike. What’s your status?”
Static.
Your heart stopped.
“Dagger Two, come in.”
More static, then: “Tower, Dagger Two. Confirm bird strike. Engine two is out. Engine one is… not looking great.”
His voice was steady, professional. But you could hear it underneath—the tension.
“Copy, Dagger Two. What’s your altitude?”
“Fifteen thousand and dropping. Trying to restart engine one.”
You pulled up his position, calculated distances, ran through every protocol you knew. Your supervisor was already moving, picking up the direct line to Base Operations.
“Ops, this is Tower. We have an in-flight emergency. Dagger Two, bird strike, dual engine failure. Pilot is attempting emergency landing at auxiliary field two-zero miles northeast. Launch crash crew and medical.”
Phoenix’s voice crackled through on the emergency channel. “Hangman, this is Phoenix. I’ve got Bob with me. We’re tracking you. Talk to us.”
“Phoenix, I’m losing altitude fast. Not gonna make it back to base.”
“Dagger Two, nearest divert is North Island. Can you make it?” you said, keeping your voice level through sheer force of will.
“Negative, Tower. I’m not going to make it to North Island.”
Your breath caught. “Dagger Two, there’s an auxiliary airfield twenty miles northeast of your position. Sending coordinates now.”
“Copy, I see it.”
Your supervisor was coordinating on the other line. “Crash crew is rolling. Ambulance and fire truck en route to auxiliary field. ETA twelve minutes.”
“Jake.” You never used his name over comms. Ever. “You can make it.”
A pause. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it.”
The next ten minutes were the longest of your life. You talked him through every step, keeping your voice steady even though your hands were shaking. Phoenix stayed on comms, her voice calm and professional, while Bob fed Jake technical readouts in that steady, measured way of his.
When he finally confirmed wheels down, safe, you had to sit down before your legs gave out.
Your supervisor touched your shoulder. “Good work. Crash crew is on scene. Medical is evaluating him now. They’ll transport him back to North Island by ground.”
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
Phoenix’s voice came through your headset. “Tower, Dagger Three. Bob and I are RTB. Ground crew has Hangman. They’re bringing him back by ambulance as a precaution.”
“Copy, Dagger Three,” you managed. “Safe flight.”
“Tower?” Phoenix’s voice was gentler now. “He’s okay. He’s safe. And knowing the squad, they’re probably already gathering at the medical building.”
Despite everything, you almost smiled. “Copy that.”
“You should probably be there too.”
You shouldn’t have left your post early. You definitely shouldn’t have been standing outside the base medical building with the entire Dagger Squad all waiting restlessly.
But there you were.
The ambulance pulled up, lights flashing but no siren, and the moment the rear doors opened, Jake climbed out on his own power, waving off the corpsman who tried to help him. He looked exhausted and rattled but whole.
His eyes scanned the group and found yours immediately.
Phoenix nudged Bob, who gave a small nod and stepped back without a word. “Come on. Let’s give them a minute.”
“The rest of you too,” Rooster said, herding the remaining Daggers toward the building entrance. “Move it.”
“But I want to see—” Coyote started.
“Move,” Phoenix said, her tone brooking no argument.
Then they were gone, and it was just you and Jake in the parking lot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself.”
“Thanks for—”
You closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second, then his arms came around you, tight and sure.
“You scared me,” you said into his shoulder.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“If you ever do that again—”
“I won’t.” His hand came up to the back of your head, cradling it gently. “I promise.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were so green, so close, and he was looking at you like…
Oh.
Oh.
“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” he said quietly. “And all I could think was that I never told you—”
“Jake.”
“I’m in love with you.” The words came spilling out in a rush. “I know you probably don’t believe me, and I know I have a reputation, but I swear, I have never felt like this about anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to be the guy you see when you look at me. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just needed you to know—”
You kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was soft and deliberate, your hand coming up to cup his jaw as you rose onto your toes. He made a sound—somewhere between relief and wonder—and pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the small of your back while the other cradled your face like you were something precious. The world narrowed to just this: the warmth of his mouth on yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment, the taste of salt from tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead dropped to rest against yours. His eyes were still closed, and when he opened them, they were bright with something that looked like reverence.
“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You terrify me.”
“I know.”
“I don’t do casual. I can’t— I’m not built for that.”
“Good. Because there’s nothing casual about the way I feel about you.” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, gentle and reverent. “I’m all in. Have been for months. Everyone knows it. Phoenix has threatened me at least six times. I don’t care. I’d let her threaten me every day for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep bringing you coffee and hearing you tell me to maintain radio discipline and just… being around you.”
You laughed, slightly watery. “You’re really in love with me?”
“So much it’s actually embarrassing. Have been since the first time I heard your voice over the radio. When I finally saw you at the Hard Deck and realized the voice I’d been falling for had a face to match…” He shook his head. “I was done for.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m scared,” you said again. “But I— I think I might be in love with you too. Which is terrifying because I didn’t think that was possible four months ago.”
His smile was incandescent, and then he was kissing you again—softer this time, sweeter, like a promise. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here with you.
From somewhere behind you, you heard Phoenix’s voice carry across the parking lot: “FINALLY!”
Summary: Bob is known to be the shy, quiet and kinder one of out the whole dagger squad, and he didn’t mind the ‘soft’ reputation one bit, because he knew the real him. The version of himself that came out whenever he got his wife alone, which, luckily for him, was every single night.
Word Count: 2.3k | I do not give consent to having my work published or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own.
Warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, unprotected sex, swearing, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, hair pulling, fingering, all that good stuff, i had writer’s block and for some reason the only person i could write about was bob, so...enjoy.
It was Saturday night, and instead of being at home by himself like he had grown used to, Bob was out at The Hard Deck, perched on a stool with a Ginger Ale in his hand as he watched Phoenix kick Hangman’s ass at pool.
It was entertaining, to say the least, because Jake was usually so stuck up and cocky about everything and anything, it was nice to watch his fellow aviator effortlessly beat him at something.
The bar was lively as usual, but Bob didn’t mind it. He had ditched his usual khakis for a white tee and jeans, his casual clothing choice outside of his work uniforms.
As he listened to the comical bickering, he looked over at the bar and watched as you talked with Penny, a kind smile on your lips as you gave her your full attention. God, you were so sweet and so sexy, Bob was still in a little disbelief that he is the one who gets to take you home after this.
He adjusted his glasses and looked over at Jake, who was smirking at him, and Bob just shook his head. He’d grown accustomed to the teasing remarks and looks from his co-workers about how hot his wife is. He knew you were fucking gorgeous, he’s married to you.
“I still don’t know how you landed her, Bob,” he said as he bent down to line up his shot again. “She’s a fucking stunner. Total smokeshow. I don’t know what she sees in you. No offense.”
Bob just shook his head again as Bradley reached over and smacked the blond on his shoulder while Nat glared at him from across the table. He didn’t care to say anything back as he turned his head and saw you begin to make your way through the crowded space, your drink held up a bit as you carefully maneuvered between bodies.
Your pretty engagement ring and wedding band reflected off the lights as you settled beside him once again and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He was still a little taller than you, even from his place on the stool, but it also made him the perfect height for you to snuggle against him. “Sorry I took so long. Penny is so sweet, I just had to stay and talk with her for a bit,” you murmured, a gorgeous smile on your lips as you sipped on your red drink. “But I’m back now.”
Bob smiled back at you as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. “It’s okay. Penny is great, I don’t blame you for wanting to hang with her instead of us guys and Nat,” he said, knowing Phoenix was far too focused on drilling into Jake to hear his words. “You know, you look stunning tonight.”
You really did. Your pretty blue and pink sundress looked gorgeous on you, and it was one of Bob’s favorite things you owned. Of course you knew that, though.
A blush coated your face as you nuzzled your head against his shoulder, hiding as if you were embarrassed by his words. “Are you trying to ensure you get lucky tonight when we get home? Or are you just being your natural sweet self?” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow. “I can never tell with you, baby.”
Bob grinned, his hand tightening its protective hold on your hip. “Can you blame me? You’re the most gorgeous girl in the room,” he said back, knowing just how lucky he was to have you by his side, and he loved the flirty banter that always happened between you and him every time you went out together. “I just want to make sure you’re having a good time, baby.”
You leaned up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m having a great time,” you said, winking up at him as you moved closer to his side and sipped your drink some more. “But I kinda can’t wait to get back home with my hot husband.” you added, shrugging casually as you slipped your left hand into the back pocket of his jeans and gave him a teasing squeeze.
His breath hitched slightly and he held back a low groan as he leaned into your touch by pure instinct. “Is that so?” he hummed, trying to keep his cool in front of his friends. He was known as the sweet, shy and quiet guy at work and in public, but with you, he was as dirty as it got.
But that side of him was just for you.
Bob lifted his hand and cradled your jaw between his fingers as he looked you in the eyes. “I think we can arrange that, sweet girl,” he said, his tone promising as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips
You moaned softly against his lips, because you were shameless as much as you are sweet, and that’s one of the things Bob loves about you. “Bob,” you whispered against his lips as your fingers teased the collar of his shirt. “Take me home. Please?”
Bob stood up and set his forgotten drink aside before he wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you towards the door. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said quietly as he led you out towards his truck, where he kissed you a few more times before getting in the driver’s seat.
As soon as he was behind the wheel, he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers as he drove. Once he parked the truck in the driveway, Bob was pushing open his door before rounding the front of the truck to open yours. He gathered you into his arms as he walked with you towards the front door, his lips peppering kisses along your neck.
When he got you up to your shared room, Bob laid you down on the bed, his gaze heated as he looked at you. His hands were already tugging at your dress as he kissed you deeply, tasting the fruity drink you’d had at the bar on your tongue.
He pulled away and pressed a few kisses to your shoulder blade before he looked at you with nothing but adoration and desire in his eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cradling your face in his hands as if you were the most fragile, most stunning thing he’d ever seen. “I need to taste you.”
You moaned at his words, your eyes unguarded and trusting as you writhed under him. You reached down and pulled off your dress, tossing it aside to find later, which left you in just your panties since you skipped a bra tonight.
Bob’s hands gripped your knees and spread your thighs, his eyes darkening as he looked at the lace clinging to your heat. You were so hot, he was having a hard time taking his eyes off your gorgeous body, but your soft laugh had his gaze meeting yours. “Taste me,” you encouraged as he pulled off his shirt and kicked off his jeans.
Your words definitely had an impact on Bob as he leaned down and nuzzled his face against you, inhaling your all too familiar scent. He was rather slow as he hooked his fingers into the waistline of your panties and tugged them down your legs, showing him the pretty view of your glistening folds. He leaned in and licked a stripe up your slit before flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue, and Bob moaned at your taste, so addictive and sweet and all for him.
He worshipped you with increasing fervor, switching between gentle licks and hard sucks that had you bucking against his face and sliding your hand into his hair. “Mm, I love tasting you,” he murmured, one of his hands sliding up your stomach to palm your breast as his thumb teased your nipple.
Your head fell back on the pillow as you writhed on the bed, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Bob…fuck, baby,” you gasped, arching your back as he devoured you like a man starved.
Bob groaned, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers as his tongue explored your most private part. His other hand gripped your hip, keeping you pinned to the bed as he feasted on your sweet taste.
His hand left your chest and slid down your torso, and he slipped two long fingers inside you, your arousal and his saliva giving him easy entrance. You were so wet for him and warm and tight, Bob had no control over the way his hips bucked against the mattress. You were so hot.
“Come on, baby,” he mumbled against your pussy, his lips brushing against your clit. “Let go for me, I got you.”
When he curled his fingers and sucked harder on your puffy clit, you came for him with a soft cry, your eyes squeezing shut as your back arched. Bob licked and lapped at your folds greedily until you had quieted down and fell back on the bed, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. He crawled up your body, slowly pulling his fingers out of you as he did so, and he licked them clean before kissing you deeply.
Then he pushed his boxers down and slid inside you. “God, baby,” he groaned against your mouth as he began to slowly roll his hips against yours. You were so tight, Bob had to hold himself back from fucking into you like he wanted to. “You feel so good, taking me so well.”
He broke the kiss and trailed his lips along your jaw, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as he picked up the speed a bit, making your mouth part as soft moans left your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your back arching as his cock immediately filled you. You were still sensitive since he’d just made you cum a mere five seconds ago, but you didn’t mind it at all. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, your body shaking a bit as you tipped your head back on the pillow. “Bob…oh, my fucking God.”
Bob lifted his head and kissed you again, his tongue brushing against yours and muffling your whimpers. “I love feeling you wrapped around me. So tight and warm,” he rasped, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as his hips snapped a bit harder against yours. “So sexy, baby.”
He reached down in between your bodies, his fingers instantly finding your throbbing clit, and he teased the bundle of nerves as he increased the pace even more until you were shaking once again.
“Gonna make you cum again, sweet girl,” he promised, his voice low and husky. “Right here on my cock. Just for me.”
In public, Bob was a softie (for the most part), but when he was with you, he had no filter, and the filthiest things freely left his mouth. He knew it drove you wild, the switch up that only happened with you, and he knew how much dirty talk turns you on.
You were shuddering from the sensitivity, your eyes rolling back a bit as you moaned louder. “Just for you,” you echoed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as your hands slid into his hair and made it a mess. “Just yours.”
Bob moaned, peppering kisses along your shoulders as he reached down to grip your knee with his free hand, and he lifted it slightly to change the angle. “Just mine,” he agreed against your skin, his body heating up as a light layer of sweat formed on his forehead. When you clenched around him, he let out a strangled sound as he fucked you into the bed. “That’s it, baby, squeeze me.”
Your moans and whines were growing louder and louder, and your fingers were beginning to pull at his hair. “Bob,” you whimpered, guiding his lips back to yours in a messy kiss.
Your hips were bucking against his as his fingers continued to rub fast circles onto your clit, and he knew you were close when he felt you tighten around him once again. “Come on, sweet girl,” he murmured, his body pressed right up against yours as he rocked his hips into yours. “Cum for me again.”
Your body tensed up in his arms as you broke the kiss and tipped your head back, a long, loud cry leaving your lips as you came around him, enveloping him in a warm wave as you shuddered uncontrollably.
“Fuck yes,” Bob groaned, his hips stuttering as you clung onto him. A few seconds later, he was there too, and he was filling you up entirely as you whimpered and trembled under him.
He gave a few more slow thrusts before he pulled out of you, and he watched as his glistening cock slid free from your warm body, and a bead of cum dripped from you. You were so beautiful, he’d never get tired of watching you come undone for him.
Bob leaned down and pressed a softer kiss to your lips, and when he pulled away, his mouth was turned upwards in a lazy grin. “I love you,”
You hummed, draping your arms around his shoulders as you finally settled under him. “I love you too,” you said back, keeping your legs wrapped around him as you kissed him again in a post-sex make out session. “Stay like this, right here. Don’t get up yet.”
“Okay,” he whispered, holding you tightly in his arms as he gently eased his body down on top of yours, covering you like a shield. “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.”
You nodded slowly, a soft smile on your lips as you smoothed out his messy hair and adjusted his glasses. Then you were leaning in and kissing him again, and you continued to for a long time after that.
