fandomtrela

[fandomtrela]

He was so pretty in this movie 🥺

GLEN POWELL as BEN ANYONE BUT YOU (2023)

[fandomtrela]

It’s always the quiet ones 😈🫠

Rich in Life

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

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.

[fandomtrela]

I can literally see this 🔥

Hii I loved relax so much could we get a different version ? Like Joaquin is out of the hospital healing at home but he’s whiny and the reader knows what’s up? Thank you in advance 💘💘

Care For You ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín is needy after not being able to have you

tw: fem!reader, Joaquín has broken ribs, filthy, slightly sub!Joaquín, I got carried away (sorry, no sorry), barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! I got so carried away, sorry for the long wait!! I hope you liked this at least as much as Relax!!

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Joaquín spent three weeks in the hospital, three weeks where his only contact with you was holding your hand. He broke some of his ribs on a mission, one that was already a month long.

"Come on, mami," Joaquín begged, his hands resting on your legs. You were standing next to the bed where you had him relaxing. He had been trying to get you to give in. "It's been over a month, please," he was kneading your thighs now, trying to entice you.

"You're still healing, love," you sighed, your resolve slowly dying. "I asked if you needed anything," you restated your question.

"And I said I needed you, your pussy, please, baby," Joaquín begged even harder.

"I'll get you some tea," you told him, reluctantly stepping away from him.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín had about a week left with his wrapped ribs and the doctor told him he was cleared for non strenuous activity. He was slowly walking around your house, following your every movement. His hands constantly on your waist and his lips continuously pressing open mouth kisses to your neck and shoulders. Joaquín's way of enticing you was to walk around him just his grey sweats, no boxers and no shirt. You joked it would have been enticing if his ribs weren't wrapped, you both knew you were lying through your teeth. He was alway enticing.

You were trying to fold blankets in the living room before you and Joaquín went to bed for the night. "Joaquín," you warned him lowly. "You need to stop," you muttered, trying to pull away from him.

"Baby, please," his voice was low and husky. "I just... I need to feel you."

Your resolve broke and you sighed as you slumped back against him. You could feel the joy radiating off of him as you did. "Bedroom," you muttered, feeling him kiss your shoulder before you both walked to the bedroom. Joaquín pulled you to him as soon as you made it to the bedroom, his lips landed on yours but you slowly pulled away. Placing smaller kisses on his lips as you saw him follow your lips. "Lay down, you're supposed to be relaxing," you told him, pushing him gently by the chest.

You watched Joaquín take off his sweats before slowly and carefully laying in bed, his eyes watching you where you took off your clothing. You were left bare to him, your smooth skin just begging to be touched by his hands. You walked to the bed and laid next to Joaquín, you saw the confusion on his face. "What are you doing?" Joaquín was breathless and you smiled that you had the effect on him. You moved to lay on your side, Joaquín following you so you were face to face. You threw your leg over his and let him wrap his arms around you.

"I said you need to relax, so you're going to relax," you muttered, gently reaching down to slip him into you. It took some shifting, on both your parts, but you were soon fully impaled by Joaquín.

"Fuck, mami, you take me so good," Joaquín moaned, not ashamed in the slightest. He had been deprived of you for almost two months and he was finally got what he wanted.

"Mmh," you hummed, your pleasure making your head light. "We're not moving, you need to relax and you're not supposed to overexert yourself," you told him, an eyebrow raising.

"No moving, I got it," he affirmed, kissing your forehead. You smiled at him as he said it, you knew him better.

"Quino, you're never good at this. You always end up fucking me, so I'm telling you now. No moving," you reiterated, knowing where this was going.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Baby, mami, princesa, mi vida, mi reina, mi corazón, mi amor, amor de mi vida, angel," Joaquín was calling you every petname he could think of. You were still laid next to him, his lips landing on your skin and his hands gripping your hips. You had been slowly grinding against him for the past hour. Joaquín had pulled two orgasms from you from the slow movement of your hips and the lazy circles he was drawing on your clit. mi vida = my life; mi reina = my queen; mi corazón = my heart; mi amor = my love; amor de mi vida = love of my life

"Fine, roll over," you gave in, you knew you would the second his tip slipped through your folds. Joaquín rolled over on his back and you settled yourself on him again. You started rolling your hips and slowly started bouncing, your moans falling from both of you freely. Joaquín was mumbling in both English and Spanish, his hip starting to thrust up to meet you. "Joaquín, stop, let me do the work," you told him, settling your full weight back on his hips. Your movements stopped fully and Joaquín tried to lift your hips to chase some more pleasure.

"Amor, please. You feel so good, please," Joaquín started begging again and you gently shook your head.

"Promise you won't start moving again, let me take care of you," you told him and he nodded.

"Ok," he sighed and you took it. You started your movements again and let Joaquín grip your hips to set the pace he wanted. Your movements started to get sloppy as your third orgasm started to form, Joaquín moved a hand to circle your puffy abused clit. "Fuck, baby, you're so pretty. I love when you're on top, I love watching your tits bounce and your mouth fall open as your seated on me," Joaquín babbled. You were slightly drooling as you felt your orgasm build even more and your mouth fell open. "Mi amor, please," Joaquín held his mouth open as a silent request and you let the drool on your tongue fall into his mouth. You harshly spat another small collection onto his awaiting tongue before leaning down and swiping yours over his. The mix of both of spit being shared between you two. This was the first time you two had ever done anything like that, but you weren't complaining.

You smirked at the groan Joaquín let out as you continued bouncing and grinding down on him. "You like that, baby? Want me to do it again?" You teased, already collecting more spit in your mouth. Joaquín dumbly nodded, lost in the pleasure you were bringing him. You brought one hand to his jaw, holding his face up to you. Your other hand rested on his shoulder before you spat your collection of spit onto his tongue again, smirking as his cock twitched inside you.

Joaquín caught sight of your smirk and added more pressure to your clit, causing your orgasm to wash over you without warning. Joaquín finally let go as you pressed your lips to his, wanting to swallow his noises as he came below you. You collapsed next to him, his cock still firmly in you as you both ended up on your sides again. "I'll stay warm," Joaquín said, pulling you to be chest to chest with him. You smiled, relaxing into his hold and running your hand up and down his back to sooth him. You would talk about the whole spitting thing later, for now you just wanted to lay in his arms connected in the most intimate way possible.

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Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[fandomtrela]

I don’t usually read childhood friends to lovers,but this was really nice.

Just Kids (bradley bradshaw x reader)

Summary: Love can survive a lot of things, no matter how early it begins. Warnings: brief mention of suicide, Carole remarries Requested: No Word Count: ~8,400 A/N: If at times this feels off in some way, that may be because this is (up until "present day") based off of a real-life friendship of mine.

*gif is not mine*

__

I met the most important person in my life when I was just nine years old. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time. We never do, right? These monumental moments in time just happen like any other Tuesday, and we can’t comprehend the significance of them until much later.

I don’t remember my third grade teacher introducing him, but surely she would have. He was a new kid, mid-year. A nearly unheard of instance in our little suburb just outside the city.No, I don’t remember anything about his uneventful arrival into my life until the day he found me at recess and first spoke to me.

3rd Grade

I sat on the swings, toes barely grazing the mulch due to my short stature. I had friends - well, a friend, but she wasn’t there that day. So instead of running around, doing whatever she wanted to do, I’d brought out the instruction manual for my sister’s copy of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. You know, the thick little booklet that used to come with games once upon a time? I hardly noticed him approaching.

“Is that from Zelda?” he asked. I looked at him cautiously. Nine is when you begin to realize that just because a question is asked innocently, it doesn’t mean teasing won’t follow your answer. “Yeah,” I replied. “You play video games?” He seemed incredulous. Not that he didn’t believe me, more like he couldn’t. “Yeah, lots of them. Why?” “Everyone else I’ve asked doesn’t even have a game system at all.” I feel his pain. “I know,” I reply sadly. “What do you have?”

I also don’t remember my mom and Bradley’s mom getting together to make play date arrangements, but it happened. One day that summer, his mom took us and Bradley’s baby sister, Genevieve, to the zoo. Bradley and I walked along the edge of the sidewalk on the way from the parking lot like gymnasts on a balance beam; just two kids who couldn’t be still, even when literally walking. Right inside the zoo was one of those wooden cutouts for pictures. This one made both people look like otters. Carole absolutely made us take a picture in it.

Later that same summer when my parents said I could choose a friend to take to the theme park with me, I chose Bradley. He’d never been to an amusement park like that before and he was in heaven. My mom and dad took turns riding the roller coasters with him. I was too scared. My mom still tells the story of how he was terrified, begging to get off before the first drop. Yet when the ride ended, he asked if they could go again.

My parents rented us a double innertube so we could stay together in the water park. Bradley’s hair had gotten really long that summer, and the lifeguard at one slide said, “Ready, ladies?”. Bradley indignantly shouted, “I’m a boy!”

“Sorry, I didn’t look down far enough!” the lifeguard shouted as he shoved our tube down the slide.

4th Grade

When school began in the fall, I was thrilled to discover Bradley was in Mrs. Wells’ class with me. For the first time since Kindergarten, I’d been separated from my best school friend, Riley. Riley didn’t live in our town. She actually lived just over the border in the neighboring state, but her mom was a teacher at our school, so she went there. We’d had multiple sleepovers at her house that summer. Always hers, rarely (if ever) mine. While my family lived in a modest ranch-style home in a typical subdivision, Riley lived in a five-bedroom, four-bathroom monster of a house in one of those subdivisions where the perfectly manicured lawns could have housed a horse farm. Her basement was finished and she had four times as many dolls as I did, even though I had two big sisters worth of hand-me-downs, while she was the oldest with just one little brother.

Riley’s parents and mine had met with the principal because of how much Riley and I had started fighting. We’d get together on a Friday evening for a weekend together, excited to see each other. By Sunday morning though, we were at each other’s throats. It only took a few hours apart before we were begging to plan the next weekend together.

In fourth grade, the kids from both classes were mixed up and then split into two teams: the cardinals and the blue jays. Each class had reading and science with our regular teachers. The cardinals had math with Mrs. Newsham while the blue jays had social studies with Mrs. Wells, then we switched. I was a cardinal, and so were Bradley and Riley. That was how mine and Riley’s parents wanted it. We still got to spend part of the day together, but not all of it.

That made reading and science easy classes, because it was just Bradley. If I needed a partner, I knew he would choose me and I would choose him. Math was easy too, because Bradley was so good at math and Riley and I weren’t as good. I didn’t like partnering with Bradley, because I slowed him down. He said he didn’t care, but he was just as happy to work with Ben.

Social studies was harder. When Mrs. Wells announced that we’d be designing board games about the Lewis and Clark Expedition, I immediately looked at Bradley. After all, games were our thing. We played video games together all the time, and a board game wasn’t that much different. But when Mrs. Wells said to choose a partner, Riley grabbed my arm immediately. Her grip was so tight, it hurt. I barely got to shoot a backwards glance at Bradley before she dragged me to a corner and got out her cool new markers. She wouldn’t let me use my markers because they didn’t color the same as hers, but I also wasn’t allowed to color with hers in case I ruined them, until Mrs. Wells came by and made her share.

We still had play dates, mostly at his house. We liked that he had more than one video game system in his room. At my house, I had to share. Even though we could walk to both of our houses from school, they were in opposite directions, and it was easier for my mom to come pick me up than it was for Carole to pick Bradley up, because of Genevieve.

“Bradley? Can you guys come down here for a minute?” Carole called up the stairs to Bradley’s room in the finished attic one day. We raced to the staircase and down into the kitchen. “Yeah, mom?” “Can you guys play with your sister for a bit? I need to put some laundry out on the line. Oh, and-“ She looked at me. “Your mom called and said no one can make it to pick you up until later. I’ll make you guys some grilled cheese for dinner when I come back in.”

In the living room, Genevieve was sitting up at the plastic bin of her toys. She gave us a gummy grin when we sat down to play with her. Digging through the bin, I came across a thick book with a brown cover and a gilded silver design around the border. “What’s this?” “It’s a photo album,” Bradley replied. “Why is it in here?” I asked, flipping through the pages. Newborn photos of Genevieve. The pictures of Bradley holding her for the first time. Pictures of aunts, uncles, cousins visiting baby Genevieve. The baby photos soon fade into newer photos. I am taken aback when I come to a page with two photos side by side. On the left, Bradley and I, teetering on the sidewalk outside the zoo. Arms out for balance, each leaning in the opposite direction. On the right, the photo of us in the otter cutout. “To teach her who people are. Like our family and stuff,” “You have to teach babies who people are?” I ask, still staring at the photos of myself. “Yeah. You didn’t know that?” I ignore the question and ask another one of my own. “But I’m in here?” I lean the album towards him so he can see. Bradley just shrugs. “Kids, I’m home!” Bradley’s dad shouts from the kitchen. “Hi, dad!” Bradley calls back. “I hear you’re staying for dinner?” he asks me. “Yes,” I nod politely. “Well, the chef better get to it then!” he jokes, reaching for a pan.

Over our dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and chips, I look from Bradley to his dad. They look so alike: the same dark hair, dark eyes. The same chin, even. I’ve barely finished my sandwich when my mom knocks at the back door. Carole greets her and she apologizes for having me stay later than planned. I gather my backpack and make my way out to the car.

In the car, I try to make conversation with my mom. “Mom, who do you think I look more like - you, or dad?” “I don’t know. I think you’re a pretty good mix of us both, actually.” “Bradley and his dad look so much alike. It’s pretty crazy.” There’s a sudden change in the energy around us, like I’ve said something wrong. My mom’s face changes too. “Oh, sweetie…” she begins awkwardly. “What?” “Bradley’s dad…is actually his stepdad.” “Huh?” I ask, completely confused. No one has ever told me that, and they’re practically twins. “Yeah. Bradley’s real dad died when he was little. Carole met who you know as Bradley’s dad not long after.” There’s a moment of quiet as I process this information. “But he calls him dad?” I reply, still feeling as though this has to be one big joke…right? “What do you expect him to call him?” mom snickers. “I don’t know. Jocelyn and Courtney don’t call Uncle David ‘dad’?” I say, referring to my cousins who call their stepdad by his first name. Since he’s the only person I can remember my aunt being with, I call him uncle. “Yes, but your cousins were a lot older when your Aunt Chrissy married David. Bradley probably doesn’t have that many memories of his dad because he was so young.” My almost-ten year old mind tries to grasp this concept, losing a parent so young you don’t even remember them hardly. “How did he die?” “I don’t know, honey. Something that happened while he was in the Navy is all I know.” “That’s really sad,” I pause. “Why didn’t Bradley tell me?” I wonder aloud. “He probably doesn’t want you to feel sorry for him.”

That night after I’ve taken a shower, I sit at my mom’s vanity while I wait for her to come brush out my hair. Looking around, I see the picture frames on the walls. There are numerous years-old versions of my big sisters looking back at me. None of myself. I think again of the pictures of me in Genevieve’s album. I think about how Carole took the photos of us, had them developed, paid for them, and put them in that album. Those pictures had only been taken a few months ago, and she had a baby to take care of. There’s a feeling in my chest that I can’t name, and it somehow feels both happy and sad.

—

I am the only girl invited to Bradley’s 10th birthday party, and it’s both cool and weird. Cool because it makes me feel tough and special for being invited, even though I’m a girl. It’s also weird because most of the other boys in class were invited too. I’ve known them all - except Bradley - since kindergarten, but I don’t really know them at all. I haven’t been to anyone’s house or spent time with them outside of school since Harry invited the entire kindergarten to his Scooby-Doo sixth birthday in his backyard.

I arrive late and Carole has me color in a coloring sheet from the pizza place of what pizza I want before dashing upstairs to the video game tournament the boys have going. They’re all better than me, but it’s still fun just watching them. Bradley and I don’t usually play these kinds of games with fighting and shooting.

Once, when I was jealous that Bradley’s town on one of our games was so much better than mine, he explained how I could get mine that way. It sounded like a lot of work. “I can do it for you if you want,” he said. “How?” “Bring your memory card to school tomorrow. I’ll work on it and give it back when I’m done.” I do like he said, and Bradley gives it back in just two days, with everything unlocked and tons of money in my virtual account. I try to thank him endlessly, but he keeps brushing me off. He acts like he’s embarrassed, but there’s a hint of a smirk that tells me he likes it.

That was the year that Bradley and I both tried really hard at our science fair projects and it paid off. When our teachers released us into the gym filled with tables and tri-folds after the judges had been through, Bradley and I were both shocked to find blue ribbons attached to each of our projects. I had been worried that my hypothesis was too boring, and he had been worried that his board didn’t look nice enough. I guess we were both wrong. I looked over just in time to see Riley rip a purple participation ribbon off of her board.

That meant we had to take our projects up to the state park center for the regional competition, which was all fine and dandy…until our parents told us we’d have to go for a special “judging day”. We had to get dressed up in fancy clothes and stand in front of our projects while judges and donors and stuff walked around and asked us about our projects. We were both nervous as could be, but got a little less nervous when we saw that our projects were just a few boards down from each other.

I laughed and got a really dirty look from Bradley when his mom dropped him off at the park center that day wearing a collared dress shirt, a beige plaid tie, khaki pants, and clunky brown dress shoes. He looked ridiculous. Not because he looked bad or anything, but because he never dressed like that, ever. Not even for school concerts.

“What?” he snapped. I was too deep in laughter to respond immediately. “You…” I begin. I take a deep breath before continuing. “You look nice,” I say, still recording from laughter. He looks taken aback. I’m sure after all that laughter he wasn’t expecting that. His eyes trail up and down me in my black skirt, white fake-velvet shirt with the flowy sleeves, and the necklace my mom only lets me wear when I have to be fancy. My hair is pulled back on top and even curled a little on the ends. “You-you look nice too,” he replies awkwardly.

Well-dressed adults start wandering amongst the rows. They ask us questions like, “What inspired this project?” or “What was the biggest challenge in conducting this experiment?”. I try to think of good answers but feel like I’m failing. Everytime I look at Bradley though, he’s smiling and the adults seem very charmed by him. They smile back and even chuckle at whatever it is he says. We learn that it wasn’t required to come today (thanks, mom), and no other kids show up at the projects between Bradley and I. Whenever the aisle is clear of any grown ups, we scooch closer to talk. Once, he spots adults coming our way so we quickly scoot apart. As soon as I get in front of my project, a lady who looks like a really fancy grandma stops in front of me with a knowing glint in her eye.

“Is that your friend?” she asks, bent down so she’s closer to my level. “Um…yes,” I reply, surprised she isn’t asking about something science-related. “He’s very handsome,” she says, winking at me. I stammer, unsure of how to answer her. I’m a kid, for goodness’ sake. I’ve never once thought of Bradley as handsome or cute or anything like that, and I wasn’t about to start now. “Well, anyway,” the woman says, straightening up and finally asking me something science related.

Thankfully, neither of our projects win at the regional fair.

__

That summer between 4th and 5th grade was amazing, if only because I got to spend so much time with Bradley. We’d both been invited to an “enrichment camp” for students with exemplary grades. It was at a high school, and it made us feel grown up. On the first day, the bus had been later than my parents expected. Too late for my dad to wait around for me to get on before he had to be at work. Instead, he started dropping me off at Bradley’s house. He and I would walk down to his bus stop and go to camp from there. His mom stayed home, but both of my parents worked, so I spent afternoons there too.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I asked him one day out of the blue. Bradley lay next to me on an old quilt. The sun shone and a light breeze blew through the honeysuckle by the garage and the white, sun-bleached linens on the line. “I don’t know,” Bradley says. There’s a sense of finality to his words, like he holds no anxiety about the pressure to figure out what he wants to do once he graduates from high school. “I think I want to be a teacher,” I say. We are both speaking to the sky, heads tilting towards one another occasionally. “Why?” He asks with a tone that conveys just how crazy he thinks I am. “Think about it - I would get to be with kids all day, so I don’t have to be a boring adult. I could buy school supplies every year. And I’d get to have summers still. I can’t imagine having to work all day, every single day except like, holidays and stuff.” “Yeah, I guess.” “So, what about you? There’s quiet for a minute while Bradley thinks. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a construction worker or something,” he says. “Really?” “Yeah,” he turns his head towards me. “Why?” “I guess I thought you’d want to be in the army or whatever like your dad,” I reply, thinking of the pictures I’ve seen of Bradley’s stepdad standing next to tanks in camouflage. He’s quiet for a minute. “No,” he says determinedly. I don’t say anything. “I know you know,” he practically whispers. “What?” I ask. “I know you know about my real dad.” The atmosphere feels charged, and I’m too nervous to say anything. “My real dad died because of the military. And my dad gets really sad when he talks about what it was like when he was deployed. People die in the military and I’m not gonna be one of them.”

I think about the soldiers my Girl Scout troop and I are making care packages for, filled with cookies and little toothbrush things and other stuff to make them feel more at home. Against my will, I imagine Bradley in a camouflage outfit and boots, trying to sleep with a rock for a pillow. I prop myself up on my elbows. “Do you promise?” I whisper. Bradley props himself up too. “What do you mean?” he asks. “Do you promise you won’t change your mind? You’ll never, ever join the military at all? Not the Army or the Marines or anything?” “Why do you care?” “Because I don’t want you to die,” I whisper. We look at one another and an understanding passes between us. We don’t have to say anything for the realness of it to settle in. “Okay,” he finally says softly. “I promise.”

—-

A few weeks later, our music teacher, Mrs. Christensen, drops a bomb.

“Boys and girls, I have exciting plans for our class today. You all are headed to the state capital next month on your field trip, and while you are there, you’re going to dance to our state song in the rotunda of the state capital.” We look around at one another, confused. I think most of us picture dancing the way we do to a Britney Spears song, but in a fancy building instead of our bedrooms or basements. Mrs. Christensen fields a question about what a rotunda is and then explains that we’ll be doing a “waltz” that is very simple to learn…but we each need an opposite gender partner to dance with. Anxiously, I spin around to look at Bradley. Wide eyed, he nods. We both know there’s no one else we would ever partner with. Not in a yucky boyfriend-girlfriend way, but because we know we won’t make fun of each other.

We spend the class learning where to put our hands and how to do the steps. The boys snicker when Mrs. Christensen says they’re supposed to lead, but quickly shut up when we try the steps with music for the first time and they realize how hard it is.

When the day of the field trip arrives, my dad comes along as a chaperone; the first field trip one of my parents have ever been able to come along on. He brings his big camera and I beg him not to take pictures of Bradley and I dancing, but he doesn’t listen, as evidenced by the printed photos that appear on the fridge after the trip: Bradley’s hand on my side (I refuse to call it my “waist” because - ew) and mine on his shoulder, both of us holding the other hand up and out to the side. I felt like we spent the whole time looking at our feet so we wouldn’t trip, but my dad caught one picture where we were actually looking at each other instead.

I’m not even mad that he took it.

5th Grade

Fifth grade marked a major change for me. For the first time, Riley didn’t even go to our school anymore. Her parents switched her to a school closer to home so she could make friends before middle school. Bradley and I were in the same class. Also in our class was a new girl named Alyssa, and Bradley’s friends from before: Harry, Auggie, and Scott. Together, the six of us spent recess pretending to be characters from our favorite TV show. Bradley played the main hero: funny, brave, and super protective. I played the main girl character: a tough-as-nails, girl-power type. He didn’t even get mad when I teased him, because it was exactly what the character would do. When I fell on accident during a pretend battle, he’d leap in front of me to keep the fictional monster or enemies from “killing” me. Once, a boy named Jon joined our game as one of the bad guys and took it a little too far, actually pushing me to the ground and standing over me so that I couldn’t get up. Bradley ran over and shoved him off. I worried he’d done it too hard and was about to get in trouble with a recess monitor, but he didn’t. He reached down to help me up and asked if I was okay. I got the funny feeling he wasn’t playing the game anymore.

Fifth grade was also the beginning of actually having homework for Bradley and I - Mr. Mills didn’t even let us do our homework in class for a little bit like our other teachers had, which usually ended up being plenty of time to get it done for fast workers like Bradley and I. We had spelling homework due every single week, the same assignment but with different spelling words. It became a standing plan that on Tuesdays, Bradley and I would walk to his house, do our homework at his kitchen table and let Carole read over it, and then run upstairs to play. Except now we had a new rule, and I had an annoying thought that my mom was to blame. The new rule was that the door to Bradley’s room had to stay open. The rule was the same at my house, and it had started one day after Bradley had come over. I was showing him my new video game, a computer game where you get to be a virtual person and live your life. It reminded me of a dollhouse, but way more fun.

“So what, you just make a human and live their life?” Bradley asks. “Yeah, but you can make more than one. I like making families.” “What if you don’t make a family? Can they have one later, like get married and stuff?” “Yeah. Here, these are two people I made but they don’t have kids or anything.” I say, clicking on the save file. We play around with the two characters for a while, not talking much. “This is getting kinda boring,” Bradley says. “Wanna make a baby?” I ask. “Sure,” Bradley shrugs. My bedroom door, which was only open a crack, suddenly flies open. My mom is staring at us with a crazy look in her eyes. “What are you guys doing?” “Playing a game?” we both say, and I point to the game’s case on my computer desk. My mom lets out a breath and walks away, telling us to keep the door open.

5th grade was also a big year at our school because it was the year of D.A.R.E., which stands for “Drug Abuse Resistance Education”. It’s basically a dumb class we have to do instead of PE once a month where we learn not to do drugs. Duh.

But we also got to do these weird things with the 6th graders they called “D.A.R.E. Dances”. Our PE teacher said it was to “keep us busy so we don’t go buy drugs” or something. My mom and sisters said it’s a tradition leftover from the days when kids would literally be out roaming around town for so long that TV channels would air commercials asking parents if they knew where their children were. When mom wasn’t listening, my sisters made it clear that kids definitely still roamed around town getting into trouble, but only if they could drive themselves.

The dances were held at the Sav Center, a local banquet hall that my parents said hadn’t hosted anything remotely cool since the 1970’s. It certainly looked like it on the inside. The main room was like a gym and smelled like it too. Every other room smelled musty and old.

They kept the room dark, with boppy music and colorful lights dancing around the walls. Mostly, the boys and I (Alyssa hadn’t been able to get a ride) hung out in a corner, nursing cans of Sprite and talking. At the second dance we went to, a slow song came on. The kind of song couples dance to at a wedding. A few sixth grade couples make their way to the floor, arms wrapped around each others necks. The teachers chaperoning close in tighter on the dance floor.

Harry nods to Bradley and I. “You guys should go dance,” he says. Not teasingly, just matter-of-factly. Auggie takes a sip of Sprite before speaking. “He’s right.” “Why?” Bradley and I ask in unison. “It’s what guys and girls do I guess. Plus it’ll make us all look really cool, and you guys can do it without it being all gross and stuff,” Scott adds. Bradley and I look at one another before shrugging and going a little further away. Far enough so we could still hear if our friends started teasing us, but not so close that we aren’t even on the dance floor. We assume the dance position Mrs. Christensen taught us last year and sway to the beat of the music. We don’t make eye contact for most of the song, until the very end. Something familiar and comforting settles around us. As the song ends, our arms drop but Bradley’s hand lingers on mine for just a second. It feels like static electricity, but I couldn’t tell you why.

We walk back to our friends who nod curtly in approval. Scott gives a small smirk and looks at Bradley, who shoots him a dirty look back. The next song, a favorite of our grade, begins playing and we race each other to the dance floor so we can jump around and yell like idiots.

__

The rest of the school year probably would have passed in a blur of school, birthdays, and play dates - which we now called “hanging out”, or tried to anyway - had Timothy not strut onto the scene. Tim was a new kid and he seemed more like he was from a different planet instead of a different city.

If the rest of us were just kids, Tim was definitely a “pre-teen”. Tim cared about boyfriends and girlfriends and crushes and all kinds of stuff like that, but no one else in the 5th grade did. He was always trying to get people he thought liked each other to “pair up”. Bradley and I mostly laughed about it, right up until the day we became his targets.

It started after silent reading one day. Since Bradley and I both had good reading grades, we were part of band during silent reading. We were the last two to return to class that day, because it took us longer than anyone to take apart our instruments right: trumpet for him, flute for me. We were both renting our instruments from the school and were trying to be super careful with them. He wanted piano, but that wasn’t an option at our school. Tim whispered to me as I got to my seat to get ready for science. “Were you and Bradshaw making out or something?” “What?!” I exclaim, which garners a stern glance from Mr. Mills, who was writing on the board. “What are you talking about?” I whisper-yell at him across the aisle between the desks. “You two were the last ones back. What took so long?” He asks, and his tone irritates me. Like he’s trying to prove that we did something inappropriate, and it’s gross. I choose to ignore him, but I should have known that would be far from the last of it.

The next day at recess, Tim starts up again. Bradley and I had been on the swings, just talking. “Hey Bradshaw, when are you going to take your girl on a real date?” “Shut up, Tim,” Bradley replies. “Careful, Bradshaw, or a real man is going to take her away from you,” Tim answers back, looking at me in a way that makes my skin crawl. The look on my face springs Bradley into action. He leaps off the swing and gets dangerously close to Tim’s face. “I said knock it off. No one here is like that, just go back to whatever weird town you came from already!” he snaps before walking away. I hop off the swing and follow him up the play structure nearest us. It’s one central landing high in the air, with two slides from each side and another slide up a higher tower.

Unfortunately, Tim follows us too. Now he’s chanting an immature song involving Bradley and I kissing in a tree. Yuck. Bradley goes down the tallest slide to get away from him, and I try to evade him by going down the slide to the left. Tim chooses to follow me, his chanting getting louder and louder. I start running around the playground, up various structures and down slides, trying to make sharp turns and unexpected climbs to get away from him, but Tim is able to keep up, all while still chanting at me. After several rounds of the song, we’re all getting tired. Bradley has climbed back up the main structure again and is about to go down the tallest slide at the top of the tower. I have just reached the landing when something inside of me snaps and I round on Tim. “Fine!” I scream. “Fine! I like Bradley! Whatever! Just shut up about it already!” I shout, lying just to see if that will make him leave us the heck alone. There’s a sudden hush, and Tim gives me a triumphant smile before laughing and running away, shouting about me liking Bradley like he just won a sweepstakes.

I turn to face Bradley apologetically, but his face looks like a mixture of anger and disgust. “Bradley, wait!” I shout, but he’s turned and disappeared down the slide just as the whistles blow to tell everyone to line up. When I get to the line, Bradley is already in it, arms crossed. He’s like, 3rd in line, so I can’t talk to him without getting into trouble. I take the next available spot in line, feeling guilt, embarrassment, shame, and all kinds of unpleasant feelings wash over me.

That afternoon, the walk to Bradley’s house is excruciatingly awkward and mostly silent. I think Carole notices the awkwardness, but doesn’t say anything. Upstairs in Bradley’s room, he looks out to make sure his mom didn’t follow us before carefully pushing the door closed until it’s just barely open, to avoid getting in too much trouble. “Did you tell the truth today?” he asks. “No!” I say with force but quietly so Carole doesn’t realize we have the door sorta shut. “We’re just kids. I don’t like anyone like that, I just wanted Tim to shut up.” The look on Bradley’s face is hard to read. I can’t tell if he looks relieved, worried, confused, or what. I decide to go with relieved, because why would he feel any other way?

That night as I’m trying to fall asleep, I end up doing some “reflecting” as Mr. Mills would say, even though I don’t really want to. My brain just does it.

Do I like Bradley? I don’t think so, not the way my big sisters like their boyfriends or my mom likes my dad. I don’t want to kiss him - ew - or anything else like that. But I think about it - if Bradley and I are still friends when we’re all grown up, which I hope we are, would I marry him? Yeah, I think I would. I’d get to spend every single day with my best friend, and I know Bradley I would never fight over the things my mom and dad fight over.

Bradley does a lot for me that my family doesn’t. Bradley never teases me about things that actually hurt my feelings, like how greasy my hair gets if I don’t take a shower every single night, or how my glasses make me look or the gaps in my teeth. Bradley remembers my favorite things and things I don’t like. Bradley protects me and helps me instead of telling me I have to “learn not to be such a baby”. He doesn’t even get mad at me or act like my life must be perfect because I’m the youngest kid and he’s the oldest kid. Bradley is my best friend in a way none of my other friends are.

Realizing all of this is why I’m suddenly so angry and sad that we’re moving away.

6th Grade

I missed Bradley this summer, but I miss him even more now that school has started. My new school is full of kids like Tim - kids who think they’re older than they really are. While I’m grateful the boys don’t look at me in the creepy way Tim did, instead they look at me like I belong back in daycare in my glasses, khaki Bermuda shorts, and Gap t-shirt. I’m not really sure which one is worse.

We call each other a lot. He tells me how he and our old friends still play the same game at recess, but he doesn’t let anyone be my character, out of respect for me. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry when he says that, because it sounds like I’m dead, not just over an hour away. My new school doesn’t have recess for 6th graders.

All summer, my parents worked with me to arrange sleepovers with my old friends from my neighborhood and Girl Scout troop. They never let Bradley and I hang out, though. They claimed it was “too far to drive for just a day trip” and having a sleepover “wouldn’t be appropriate”, even though our new house is bigger and has a guest room. I’d sleep in the backyard if it meant Bradley could come over.

Instead, we call to try and stay in touch. This goes on for a few months, but life gets busy for us both. I join a new soccer team and he gets involved in Boy Scouts. He calls me on my birthday and I call him on his, even though they’re only 32 days apart.

Beyond

One day, I call him and his dad answers the phone. “Hi, can Bradley come to the phone?” I ask. “This is Bradley,” the deep voice replies. “Ha ha, seriously!” I say, assuming this is a big joke. It’s not. Once Bradley convinces me it is him talking, it’s suddenly hard to picture who I’m talking to, because he sounds like an adult, and I still feel like a kid.

I call him from my cell phone after I get it so he has the number, but he doesn’t use it. The next time he calls me on my birthday, he calls my house like usual. I call him on his birthday and he gives me his new cell phone number. It feels grown up, both of us having phones all to ourselves. Not that it matters, because shortly after that is when we stop talking altogether.

--

It’s almost freshman year of high school, and I’m telling him about homecoming. He doesn’t want to go to his school’s dance, but I’m excited for mine. “Who are you going with?” he asks. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounds like he’s pretending to be casual, like he actually cares more than he wants to appear. “Just some friends,” I reply. “My boyfriend can’t go, his parents are like, the ultimate in strict.” “Your boyfriend?” He says, and his tone makes me freeze. “Uh, yeah.” I say, not wanting to elaborate. “Should…should you really be talking to me if you have a boyfriend?” “What?! Bradley, you’re my best friend.” The words feel hollow. How is it fair to call him my best friend when we haven’t laid eyes on one another in almost four years? “But I’m a guy,” he replies, like that should clear it all up for me. “I’m aware,” I say sarcastically. “Seriously, it’s fine. If he has a problem with it, then I don’t need to be with him anyway.” Bradley eventually concedes, but the game has officially changed.

That year, Bradley doesn’t call me on my birthday. The sting of it still hurts me enough that I don’t call Bradley on his birthday, either. By the next year, I guess we’re both so afraid of overcoming the hump of awkwardness that we don’t call again. I want to, since I don’t have a boyfriend anymore; a recent development that hurts.

Just the other day, one of my friends was trying to comfort me. She said, “Your first love always breaks your heart. It’s like the law of love.” But when she says “your first love”, I don’t think of my now-ex-boyfriend. I think of Bradley. We didn’t love each other in the romantic sense. Sometimes, I think our love for each other was on another plane. Maybe in another universe, he still loves me like that. Because I sure never stopped loving him. I don’t think I ever will.

—

I didn't think I would ever speak to Bradley again. I wasn’t sure how to overcome the awkwardness of how we’d left things. The way we truly left things before never speaking again was stranger than I could have ever imagined.

One steamy night the summer we were 17, I was sitting on my bed. The windows were open, but the night was still. I knew better than to close them and face my mother’s wrath. I was playing a video game; alone, as was the norm ever since I last spent time with Bradley. For once, I wasn’t even thinking of him when his name appeared on my phone screen.

Bradley Bradshaw: I love you.

My heart pounded in my chest and a chill froze my sweat. For some reason, my first thought was that he was going to kill himself. We’d learned in health class that sudden, out of the blue confessions of love could be a warning sign. I pulled up Bradley’s contact and tried to call him, but he sent me to voicemail, which only fueled my panic. I shot back a text before trying to call again.

Me: What? Are you okay? Me: Bradley. For real. Is everything okay? Me: Answer me. Bradley Bradshaw: M fine Me: What? Bradley Bradshaw: ok Me: Bradley. Wtf. Me: Bradley!

I stay up well past my usual “bedtime” awaiting some kind of response, but I don’t get one. The next morning, I check back in with him.

Me: So. What happened. Bradley Bradshaw: Shit. I’m so sorry.

You better be, I think.

Me: What happened? Were you drunk? Bradley Bradshaw: Drunk? No way.

I breathe a sigh of relief, though I’m still confused.

Bradley Bradshaw: High as shit? Yeah.

What? My mind swirls. Bradley…high? Like on drugs? Marijuana, I assume.

Me: Seriously? You do drugs now? Bradley Bradshaw: Yeah? Don’t you? Me: No. Definitely not. Bradley Bradshaw: Oh

I hesitate, thumbs poised over the touch screen before proceeding.

Me: Why did you say you love me?

There’s a several minute pause before Bradley replies.

Bradley Bradshaw: I gues Bradley Bradshaw: Shit Bradley Bradshaw: Idk. I was high.

It looks like he sent the first message before he meant to. I want to think of what he was trying to say, but I choose not to. It doesn’t seem like it can lead anywhere that won’t break my heart even further.

Present Day

My family made fun of me. They said it was stupid to travel all the way back to our hometown for The Last Dance At The Sav. The Sav, where we’d had our elementary school dances, had gone out of business years ago when the owner died with no one to leave it to. The city had decided to tear it down, but some historical preservation organization tried to save it. They were unsuccessful, but they were hosting one last dance there to raise money for other restoration and preservation efforts in the city.

I bought a ticket thinking it would be fun, sweet, nostalgic. Instead, it feels pathetic, a 30-something getting all dressed up just to go hang out with absolutely no one I know at a banquet hall I haven’t been to since I was 11. Maybe my family was right. Still, it was an expensive ticket. The donation has been made either way, so I might as well go enjoy the open bar.

Once there, I stand at the bar and hope for the best. Maybe an old teacher or friend will see me. It’s unlikely, even less likely that they’d recognize me all these years…decades later.

Out of the corner of my eye, someone approaches the bar. To avoid looking desperate, I keep looking like I’m very interested in my drink and the wall behind the bar. That is, until I hear someone say my name.

The voice is on my left, coming from the figure that approached earlier. My heart drops to my stomach when I realize I am looking into the face of a 30-something-years-old Bradley Bradshaw. His hair is short, neatly trimmed. He has a mustache, which I might’ve laughed at once upon a time but I can’t help but think makes him look daringly handsome. My heart descends further - out of my toes, really - when I realize he’s wearing Navy dress blues.

I choke down the sour, hot tears in my throat.

“Bradley?” He approaches slowly, like maybe he’s scared I’m not really there; like I’m a hologram or something.

“I-I can’t believe you’re here,” he stammers in awe. “Me either,” I breathe, my eyes taking in every inch of him, trying to reconcile this man in front of me with the kid I once knew.

“You-“ he begins before he seems to gasp for air for a second. “You look beautiful.” “You don’t look half bad yourself,” I lightly joke. He chuckles. “Although, you broke your promise,” I say mostly under my breath, staring at my shoes. “What’s that?” he asks gently, looking at me with concern. “You…you broke your promise,” I say, visibly cringing. I didn’t really expect him to keep a silly childhood promise, did I? He lets out a breathy, almost-humorless laugh. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking up from me and looking off into the distance with a look of melancholy. “What made you change your mind?” “My dad.” He looks into my eyes. “Your dad, as in-“ “My real dad. Nick.” I nod understandingly. “My mom used to always try and talk to me about him. But I was so…so angry that he’d left me even though he didn’t want to. It was an accident. I came across some of his things one day when I was cleaning out the rest of the attic and…I was at a place in my life where I felt like he was trying to tell me something, you know? I changed my plans and…here I am,” he says, gesturing to the insignia covering his chest. “Why are you here tonight?” “Seemed like a win-win. I’m home on leave, I needed something to do. My parents got tickets and can’t come anymore and…I guess I hoped I would run into a familiar face.” There’s a weight to his last sentence, a secret I don’t want to unwrap. It’s trouble, I can tell. He’s here on leave, and I’m also here far away from my own apartment and the life I lead right now. “Why are you here?” He asks in return. “Something like that.” I nod, pursing my lips and training my eyes downward again.

The opening notes of an Ed Sheeran song begin to each around the room. Bradley looks to the DJ table, then back at me. He reaches out a hand.

“Can I have this dance?” he asks. I look at him with tears and all the memories of what could have been floating in my eyes. It’s too late, the angel on one shoulder says to me. But what could it hurt? The devil says on the other. Sensing my hesitation, Bradley persists. “For old time’s sake?”

I take his hand and allow myself to be lead to the dance floor. We alter Mrs. Christensen’s positioning just a little. Bradley’s arm wraps around my upper back, holding me closely. My hand does not rest on his shoulder but instead wraps under his arm to his back as well. I can feel him absentmindedly rub his thumb back and forth on the bare skin between my shoulders.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love Not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time

Bradley’s eyes grip me, like he’s trying to send the lyrics of the song right into my soul. Tears threaten to spill again. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “I never thought we’d get this,” I reply. Bradley breathes in deep before speaking. “I never knew you wanted this,” he whispers. “I didn’t know I did either,” “I did.” His words cause me to take a sharp breath, now unsure if I can breathe at all. “After a while anyway. I just knew you were going to do great things, and I wasn’t going to do much of anything. I didn’t want to hold you back, even if we were just dumb kids.” I laugh through tears. “And then I joined the Navy and I still wanted to call but…I’ve seen what the other guys’ girlfriends and wives go through. I couldn’t do that to you.” He looks physically pained as he tells me this. “Bradley, I—I’ve missed you so much.” “I’ve missed you too.”

We dance with one another in a natural silence for a bit, allowing the music to flow around us and keep us in rhythm with one another. It settles in that we never stopped. Never stopped thinking about each other. Never stopped loving each other.

We are still kids but we’re so in love Fightin’ against all odds I know we’ll be alright this time Darling just hold my hand Be my girl I’ll be your man I see my future in your eyes

Bradley’s mouth leans in close to my ear. “I love you.” My eyes meet his. “Do you mean it this time?” “I meant it the first time. I think I’ve loved you longer than i could have ever expressed. I’m so sorry it took me this long to find you and say it.” My heart threatens to explode looking at him. It’s a fairytale ending that no video game could ever compare to. “I love you too.” He brings his face closer to mine and like a singer and an orchestra, our lips begin an aria we have never heard yet have known the words to all along. We kiss far longer than may be proper at this event but it’s okay because the world around us no longer matters.

I don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t know what the future holds for either of us, but I know one thing. I’ll do anything to never lose him again.

[fandomtrela]

This was really hot and right up my alley 🤤🤤🫠🫠

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: You and Jake are broken up, so he has no business sending you dirty texts while you’re out with your friends, yet that doesn’t stop you from giving in every single time.

Word Count: 4.1k | THANK YOU FOR 5.8K FOLLOWERS

Warnings: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, swearing, just overall filthiness, exes hooking up, exes to lovers if you want to know what happens in their future, possessive jake, mentions of a bad break up.

“You’re going? Seriously?” your best friend since high school, Steph, asked once she saw you trying to discreetly slide your credit card and keys into your purse a few minutes after you checked a text on your phone and scoffed. 

You looked over at her with a soft glare, because her question had made your other friend give you a look of disbelief as well, when all you wanted to do was make your great and quiet escape. “What? I’m…tired,”

Steph scoffed this time and leaned back in her chair at the small table you managed to score in the back corner of a rather rowdy bar. “Yeah right. You’re such a liar. We just got here, like, half an hour ago,” she muttered and crossed her arms. “You’re not tired. You’re fucking horny.”

You gasped, but you couldn’t deny the truth her words held. “I am not,”

“Then where are you going?” Kayce, your other friend, asked as she too clued in to what was really going on with you, and she didn’t look too happy either. 

Too bad for them, you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. “Why does it matter?”

“Y/n, if you’re even thinking about going over to his place, I swear, I’ll rip my hair out,” Steph groaned and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Jake fucking Seresin. Or, you know, fucking Jake Seresin,” she reiterated and you felt your face heat up a bit. 

Damn, you thought you were being a little more discreet than that, but clearly not. “So what if I am?” you sighed, giving up on the whole act entirely as you hadn’t been nearly as careful as you should’ve been. They both knew where you were going now, there’s no point in trying to hide it. 

“So what? He’s your ex, Y/n,” Kayce stated, but her tone was much softer than Steph’s was. 

“And he’s a fucking ass,” Steph added, “I don’t know what you saw in him before, and I still don’t know what you see in him now. He’s so full of himself, he’s cocky, arrogant and he fucking smirks at everything. Oh, and he treats you horribly.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you defended your ex as you sat up straight. And it really wasn’t. Yeah, Jake was all those things she listed, she just missed him being overly confident, but he didn’t treat you badly at all. In fact, he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, it was just the explosive fight you’d gotten in that ended it all. “He was good to me.”

“He’s trying to get you to come over so he can fuck you,” Steph said, a little too loudly for your liking since a few of the bars patrons had glanced over at the three of you. “He wants to fuck you then he’ll kick you out.”

“He won’t kick me out,” you scoffed, standing up and sliding your purse onto your shoulder. “Jake likes when I sleep in his arms.”

Steph looked like she was about to explode, but you didn’t care. You felt attacked by your friends, and you felt like they were trying to make you feel dumb and like a kid, when you are a grown woman who is capable of making your own decisions. 

You knew what you were getting yourself into. “And maybe we’re friends now. Have you ever thought of that? Exes can be friends,”

Steph raised a brow. “Not exes like you and Jake. You two can never be friends, not after they way you were together,”

She was right about that, but she also didn’t need to know that. 

Kayce looked up at you with a small frown on her lips, and you hated the pity in her eyes. You didn’t need it, and it wasn’t justified at all. “He texts you a lot, Y/n,” she said quietly, “Doesn’t it make you feel cheap?”

You looked down at her for a few seconds before shaking your head. “Cheap? With Jake?” you laughed, “Never.”

-

Jake was sipping on a beer and watching the highlights of the latest game when he heard a knock at his front door. He smirked, because he knew exactly who it was.

It was you, of course, and he knew exactly why you were here. 

Only a mere twenty minutes ago, Jake had sent you two texts, one reading, 

‘I wanna see you, baby. Come over,’

And the other, 

‘I miss your sweet pussy and your pretty mouth,’

Yeah, he was aware of what he was doing, because he knew you’d read them, and he knew you’d come over. Albeit, you’d take your time getting here, but still, you were definitely coming. 

And, you know, hopefully soon Jake would be too.

He set down his beer and abandoned the football game he’d been watching on the TV in the living room, and he wandered out to the front door wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants - the ones he knew drove you crazy, because they showed off the length of his cock through the fabric.

When he swung the door open and saw you in a tight skirt and a crop top, he knew he’d interrupted your girls’ night. That meant you ditched your friends in order to come to his place, and that made Jake’s smirk grow even more. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” he greeted, leaning against the door frame as he looked at your gorgeous face. “I think we’re way past the point of you needing to knock, don’t you?” he teased, and the eye roll you gave him had him grinning. You were so perfect and so fucking stunning, Jake felt like the luckiest fucker in San Diego, because you’re here. And you’re still his. 

A scoff left your lips as you crossed your arms, but the dramatic act wasn’t justified. You’d been out at the bar, attempting to have a decent night with your friends when you got his texts, and like always, any and all rational thoughts left your mind. 

“Not really,” you muttered, shifting on your feet as the cool evening air made chills run through your body. “Why do you insist on texting me filthy things in order to get me over here? Why can’t you just find another girl to fuck and forget about?”

Jake’s eyes were all over your body, the green a shade or two darker as he bit down on his lip. Your skirt was short and hugged your curves in all the right places, showcasing every inch he knew off by heart, and he wanted to pull you into his arms and warm you up properly. “Forget about you? Baby, you know that’s not possible. There isn’t another girl in the world who could ever compare to you,” he said, his voice low as he reached one hand out and rested it on your hip, pulling you closer. “And you’re here, aren’t you? Besides, I don’t want to fuck anyone who’s not you.”

You rolled your eyes again, making Jake grin. 

“Come on, you know I can’t help myself around you,” he mumbled, his deep voice right next to your ear as he brushed a kiss to your cheek. “I hate being away from you, and not knowing what you’re doing out there without me…”

You hummed, moving closer to him. “What do you think I’m doing?” you asked, raising a teasing brow as you slide your fingers up his bare chest before settling your hands on his shoulders. “Are you scared that I’m flirting with other guys? That I’m letting random strangers fuck me in the same bed you used to fuck me in? Are you scared I’ll finally move on from you?”

Your tone was teasing now as well as you leaned up and brushed your lips along his jaw. Jake felt a surge of possessiveness run through him, and a jolt of lust went straight to his cock, which he was sure you could feel against you right now. 

“I don’t scare easily, Y/n,” he muttered, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer as he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Though, the thought of another guy putting his fucking hands on you…touching what’s mine…makes me think I need to leave my mark on you so they don’t even bother trying.”

His big hands slid down to grab your ass, and he squeezed it through the fabric of your leather skirt, making you whine softly.

“You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not when I can feel you trembling for me…not when I know you’re already getting wet for me,” he added, and you moaned loudly at his words. 

“Relax, baby,” you cooed, “No guy has even come close, because I know I’ll just be disappointed. They’re not you. You’re the only one who can make me cum.”

A deep groan left Jake’s lips as you practically melted against him, your words laced with seduction and promise. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he was wrapped around yours as well. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he murmured, shamelessly letting his gaze trail up and down your body. “These pretty tits, that sweet pussy…your stunning fucking body. All mine. Always has been, and always will be.” 

His hands slid further down until he was gripping the backs of your thighs, then he was lifting you up into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him as he carried you towards his bedroom. 

He’d made this exact route countless times now, always with you, and only with you since the night you met. It felt familiar, normal, and natural, like he would always only be carrying you to his room so he could fuck the living shit out of you. 

“I think it’s about time I remind you of that fact, don’t you?” Jake asked, but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. He tossed you onto his bed, the sight of you being nearly swallowed by the king-sized mattress one he fantasises about every time he goes to sleep. “You think you can tease me by talking about other guys, hm? When we both know that you’re never gonna let anyone else touch you like this.” 

Jake’s hands slid up and down your calves before tugging off your boots and letting them hit the floor with a soft thud. Next were your stockings, which he just flat out ripped off you instead of trying to pull them all the way down, and the glare you gave him had a smug smirk forming on his lips as he tossed the destroyed fabric aside. 

“Think I need to ruin you for everyone else. Fuck you so hard, you won’t bring up another guy ever again,” he hummed, crawling up your body. It wasn’t necessary, because Jake knew you hadn’t been with anyone else since him, like he hadn’t been with anyone else since you, but it was part of the game you and he had been playing recently. Riling each other up until the other breaks, then doing it all over again within a few days. 

Jake knew he still wanted you, he wanted to fucking marry you, for fucks sake, but your break up had been an explosive one, and if you still needed a little more time to yourself before getting back on track with him, that was fine. He could do that one hundred percent, as long as it meant he got you back in the end. 

You were leaning back on his pillow, your legs parting as he settled between them, and you already looked so fucked out and needy for him. It was such a pretty sight. Jake’s eyes were dark as he gazed down at your dishevelled form, his arms at either side of your head as he held himself up above you. 

“Jake,” you groaned, sliding your hands along his abs before you reached up and grabbed his shoulders, pulling his body down onto yours as you buried your face in his neck. You placed soft kisses along his skin, breathing him in as if you were as gone for him as he is for you. “God, you’re so fucking hot…I love getting you all riled up like this.” 

Jake was so hard for you, and your touches only made him harder, almost painfully so. “You love it, huh? You just love pushing me until I fuck you so hard, you can barely walk the next day,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing all along your neck and jaw as he ground his hips against yours over and over again until he couldn’t hold back any longer. He sat back on his knees, tugging your shirt over your head as he did so, and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately went to your chest, his cock twitching with need as he bit down on his lip. “Fuck, these tits…”

You laughed quietly, and Jake knew how he looked, drooling over you as if he hadn’t been with you for nearly three years before the break up. “You love them, don’t you?” you teased, reaching for his wrists and guiding his big hands to your chest. “Touch me, Jake…”

Jake groaned, squeezing your soft mounds as he looked down at you. “Oh, I more than love them, baby. I’m fucking obsessed with them,” he said as his thumbs circled your hardened nipples before he leaned down and took one between his lips, sucking greedily as he continued to tease your other one. “They’re mine. This whole fucking body is mine.”

“Mmm, for now,” you purred, giving him an innocent look as you writhed under him and he glared at you. But he didn’t let himself get too worked up at your words, since there was no for now with you, there was only forever. 

After he worshipped your chest with his mouth for a bit, Jake pulled back and admired the red peaks that were straining against the cool air of his bedroom. You were whimpering for him and looking up at him with needy eyes, Jake had never seen a hotter sight in his life. 

He gripped your hips and flipped you over, pulling your skirt down and off your body, leaving you in just your soaked panites. “Look at how perfect you are,” he murmured under his breath, his hand smoothing along the curve of your ass before he delivered a sharp smack to one side of it. “You’re such a good girl, presenting yourself so nicely for me.”

You whined as Jake hooked his fingers in the thin fabric of your panties and dragged them down your legs impossibly slow, exposing your wet core to the cool air. “Jake,” you mumbled as you propped yourself up on your knees and elbows, your fingers bunching up his sheets as you wiggled back against him and left a damp spot on the front of his sweats. 

Jake reached down and palmed himself through the fabric, his cock begging for attention as he looked down at the pink handprint that was forming on your skin. “Fuck, look at you. So desperate for my cock already. Bet this needy little pussy is clenching around nothing, isn’t it?” he mocked, gripping your hips as he ground his clothed erection against your slick folds, not caring at all about the mess he was making on the grey fabric. You were moaning loudly now, his dirty mouth never failing to turn you on, and he knew that. 

He rolled his hips a few more times before delivering another swift slap to your opposite cheek before he soothed the sting with his palm, his cock twitching more at the desperate sounds you were making for him. 

His fingers delved between your thighs and collected your arousal, the wetness making his head spin in the best way, before bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself, baby,”

You obliged quickly, turning your head and capturing his fingers between your lips. “Mm,” you moaned, licking and sucking at his fingers until they were clean of you and left coated in your spit. “So good…” you hummed as you pushed yourself back against him again, the dark spot on his sweats only growing in size the longer he kept them on. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Jake grunted, pulling his fingers free from your mouth. “Getting off on your own taste.”

Then he licked his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as his free hand palmed your reddening ass. “You love it,” you mumbled, and Jake grinned as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I do,” he agreed, grabbing your thighs as he pulled you back onto his lap, your slickness dragging along his damn near painful erection. His sweatpants were messy now as he gently bounced you on his lap, leaning over you to place kisses all along your shoulders, and then he was guiding you to lay down on your back once more as he pushed down and kicked off his sweats. “Spread those legs for me, Y/n. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

When you did as you were told, Jake settled between your thighs once more, his cock rubbing along your soaked folds. “Jake,” you whined. “I need you. Fuck me already. Please?” 

“I will, sweet girl,” he laughed deeply, reaching down to circle your clit with his fingers. Then he was pushing forward and sinking inside your core, the wet warmth making him groan as he braced himself above you. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Missed this perfect pussy so much, baby.” he grunted, leaning down to kiss you as he began to fuck you with long, deep thrusts. 

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you kissed him back. Your hands ran up and down his arms before pushing against his lower back, encouraging him to absolutely wreck you as your mouths pressed messily together. “God, yes. Fuck me, Jake,” 

Jake groaned into the kiss, one hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back a bit while his other gripped your hip tightly. “You were made for me, baby,” he murmured against your lips as picked up the pace a bit, breaking the kiss as he looked down at where you were connected. The sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside you had him thrusting a bit harder, his grip on you tightening even more. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He hooked his elbows under your knees, shifting your position on the bed and giving him a better angle to your sweet spot, and the way you practically squealed had him fucking into you a bit faster. “Jake, oh fuck,” you moaned as you ran your hands along his abs, feeling the way he flexed under your touch. “Harder…harder…” 

Jake grunted as he complied, hitting every spot deep inside you until he felt your tight walls start to flutter and clench around him. “Not yet, baby,” he rasped, not wanting this to end too soon. He was desperate for you now more than ever, because every second with you was next to precious at the moment. “Hold on just a little longer, sweet girl.”

But you were whining in protest, shaking your head as you buried your face in his neck. “Jake,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. Then you pulled back and looked up at him, and your gaze softened a bit as you nodded. “Okay…okay, just go slower then, okay?” you asked so sweetly, your bratty persona from earlier gone as you leaned up and pressed kisses along his jaw. 

Jake’s hands loosened their grip on you, and instead he wrapped his arms around you and cradled you against him, slowing his thrusts significantly. “Mm, there’s my good girl,” he praised, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. “I wanna take my time with you…love you in the way you deserve.”

He knew his words were perhaps a little more intimate than they should be during a hookup, but Jake would never consider you that. Just a quick, easy fuck. He’d never think so low of you when he was so in love with you still. 

His big hands caressed your body, touching all the places he knew off by heart, and he reveled in the soft moans you let out when he gently pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers. 

Jake leaned down and kissed you as you tangled your fingers in his hair, his hips slowly rolling against yours in unhurried thrusts. His own hands slid around you and down your body until they reached your ass, and he gripped you tightly as he lifted you up a bit to meet his deep strokes. “You feel so good, baby,” he mumbled against your mouth before fully breaking the kiss to look down at you. 

You tugged on his hair, hiking your legs up higher around his waist as you arched your back. “So do you,” you replied, tipping your head back on his pillow as he increased the pace again by just a little. “So fucking good, Jake.”

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he fucked into you, his sounds muffled against your skin. “Fucking hell, Y/n,” he moaned, “You drive me crazy, sweet girl. I’ve missed this so much…missed you so much.” 

Jake leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it gently with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. 

You tugged a little harder on his hair before pushing on his shoulders, and for a fleeting moment Jake thought he might have gone too far with his words (not that he had much control over them anyway), but then you settled on his lap when he sat back on his knees, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh, my God,” you gasped, your breasts brushing against his chest as you began to ride him. “Fuck…fuck.”

Jake’s hands grabbed your hips, holding onto you tightly as he helped guide you into a steady rhythm. “That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that,” he praised, dipping his head down to press kisses along the tops of your breasts. 

Your moans were becoming a little more desperate now as you bounced on his lap, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips, and the look in your eyes told Jake all he needed to know. 

Maybe you didn’t mean for it to be there, but he could see the love, adoration and longing in your gaze, but he didn’t say anything about it. Just seeing it was all he needed to know that he’d be with you again properly someday. 

“Jake,” you whispered, running your hands along his slightly sweaty shoulders as you moved on top of him, squeezing him so good, Jake had to bury his face against the side of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard,” he groaned, thrusting up into you as he gripped your hip tightly and pulled your chest right up against his, using his free hand to apply pressure to your stomach. “C’mon, baby, give it to me.”

You whimpered and bucked your hips a few more times before you were shaking on his lap, your hands pulling at his hair as you came with a soft cry, and it was still the prettiest sound Jake had ever heard. 

He grunted, and a few seconds later, he came too, filling you up as you became limp in his arms. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, his chest heaving as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to lay down so you were cuddled against his chest. “I love you,” he mumbled, the words all too familiar as he usually said them every single time you and he had sex, as well as every day before the breakup. 

You groaned, shaking your head as you leaned up to press a firm kiss to his lips, then a few more after that. “Shh, don’t,” you murmured before rolling off him, making his cock slip free from your warmth as you rolled onto your stomach. “Just…come here. Come hold me.” you said, burying your face in his pillow as you closed your eyes. 

Jake laughed under his breath as he pulled the covers up over your body before wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you like you were his entire world. “Okay,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head as he let himself relax against you.

This was where he belonged, he knew that, and he knew that you belonged here too, it would just take you a little longer to get back there. Which was fine, because Jake would always wait for you. And as he listened to your quiet breathing and inhaled your familiar scent, he let his mind wander to the image of you finally wearing the ring he’d bought for you that was safely tucked away in his closet.

[fandomtrela]

He fumbled the bag but caught it just in time 😂

I wanna feel what love is

Summary : You're the Navy's most reserved systems specialist. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw is the loud, golden retriever pilot who can’t stop watching you work. He starts with coffee. Then conversation. Then a playlist. But you're silent, guarded… until the jukebox plays his song, and you finally speak in the loudest way you know how.

Bradley Bradshaw x f!reader/groundsystemstech!reader

Warnings : mutual pining, jealousy (brief flirtation), sunshine x quiet introvert, playlist flirting, he’s loud for both of you

Words : 5K

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

There was a certain stillness to the sim bay when you were in it—not silent, exactly, but quieter in a way that wasn't just about decibels. It was the kind of quiet that made people talk softer when they walked by you, as if your presence created a ripple of calm in the mechanical hum of monitors and diagnostic lights. You weren’t unfriendly. Just focused. Precise. A whisper in a world of voices raised too loud too often.

Bradley Bradshaw was not quiet, he was everything but quiet.

He was energy and swagger and sun-soaked charm, tall and golden, never without something to say. Usually something funny, sometimes something stupid, but always with that boyish confidence that made people laugh even when they didn’t want to.

And for some reason, lately, he kept orbiting around you.

Today, it was coffee.

You barely registered the footsteps until he was standing beside your desk, one hand curled around a cup, the other sliding the second one in front of you with practiced ease, like he’d done this before, like he’d made this part of his day.

“Hazelnut,” he said, voice low but cheerful, like you two were already in on some inside joke as he offered you the sweetest smile. “With oat milk. Thought I’d take a gamble, you look like an oat milk kind of girl.”

You paused mid-keystroke. Your eyes flicked up to his face—those soft brown eyes, wide and too curious for their own good—then down to the coffee. ‘Oat milk kind of girl’, what the hell does that mean ? Anyway, you took it without hesitation, your hand wrapping around the warm cup like it was familiar, though it wasn’t. At least not yet.

A quiet breath left your lips. “Thanks.” You murmured, voice just above the whir of the nearby fan: soft, clipped, barely there.

Then, you turned back to the screen, like the moment had never happened at all. Bradley stood there a beat too long, blinking once, then scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish kind of grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“…Cool.” He said to no one in particular, and walked off. Glancing back once to see if you looked at him again.

You didn’t.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

By the time lunch rolled around, the mess hall was its usual mess of uniformed pilots, engineers, and stray conversations about upcoming tests and simulations. Bradley slouched into a seat beside Phoenix and Bob, stealing a chip off Bob’s tray like it belonged to him.

“She never talks,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, watching you across the room as you sat alone, quietly eating, headphones on. You were scrolling something on your tablet—a manual, probably, or flight logs. You looked like you’d be anywhere else if you could, and still, you glowed in your own strange, distant way. Like a lighthouse in fog.

Phoenix didn’t even blink. “Whisper ? That’s her whole thing.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but she literally never talks. I’ve said good morning to her for like four days straight and got exactly two words in return. One of them was ‘thanks.’ The other was ‘hmm.’”

“She doesn’t waste words,” Bob offered gently. “I like that about her.”

“Yeah, but how does she communicate ? Like, with other humans ? Does she just telepathically vibe what she wants across the room ?”

Phoenix smirked. “You’re not mad she’s quiet, you’re mad she’s not talking to you.”

Bradley opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He glanced across the cafeteria again. You were sipping the coffee he brought. Slowly. Still the only one you’d had all day. He watched the way you bit your lip, thinking intensely. How your hair fell back when you let it go, slightly hiding your face. But suddenly, a question popped in his head. “Why do we even call her whisper ?” He said still looking at you, not really waiting for an answer, more to make a statement.

“We talked once,” started Bob, cutting the brunet off from his observation. Rooster turned his head quickly, interested in what the blond had just told him. “Said she was a former pilot. Real good one too.”

His interest peaked, “Former pilot ? I thought she was a ground systems tech.”

“Well she is now.” The blond said. “But she used to fly, so people still use her call sign. Top of her class, sharp as a tack. Then she switched to ground—said she liked the quiet shadows better than the spotlight in the cockpit.”

Rooster took a slow sip of his glass of water, thinking about what his friend had just told him. “Guess I’ve got a mission then.”

Nat raised an eyebrow, “What kind of mission ?”

“To get her talking.” He answers, grinning like a kid who just found a new puzzle. 

Bob laughed. “Good luck with that one.”

But that didn’t discourage Bradley, not even a little.

The sim bay had the kind of buzz that never quite went away—humming computers, faint whirring fans, a voice or two in the background reviewing telemetry. It was comfortable in a mechanical sort of way, and you liked it that way: your space, your rhythm, your quiet corner of the world. You were back at your console, headphones on, lips parted ever so slightly in focus as you adjusted a variable in the flight response program.

Bradley Bradshaw, on the other hand, existed in full color. He lingered in the doorway, pretending to look for someone, but mostly watching you work. He moved like someone born in the sun, all wide smiles and long limbs, always cracking a joke or throwing a casual wink in someone’s direction. So, when his boots thudded up beside your desk for the second time that day, coffee in hand again, you felt him coming before you even saw him. You slipped one of your headphones off as he stopped beside your desk, and he couldn’t help but smiled at the anticipation.

“You always drink coffee after lunch,” he said, setting the cup beside your keyboard like it was already tradition. “But I figured I’d switch it up. This one has vanilla instead of hazelnut. Dangerous, I know.” He chuckled for a bit.

You paused, glanced at him, and took the cup with both hands like it might vanish if you didn’t. “Thanks,” you murmured, the word barely above a breath.

He smiled like it was a full sentence. And then, to your surprise, he didn’t leave. He leaned against the edge of your console, arms crossed. “So… do you always have your headphones in, or is that just to avoid me ?”

You blinked, looked at him—not startled, just unreadable. Then: a quiet, short answer.

“No.”

His brows lifted. “Oh ? So it’s not personal.”

“No.”

Another beat passed. He was clearly trying to decide if that was good or bad.

“What do you listen to ?”

“…Music.”

That made him grin. “Wow. The mystery deepens.”

You looked back at your monitor. You weren’t trying to be cold, you just didn’t know what to do with all that energy, all that focus pointed at you like sunlight through a magnifying glass.

Still, he stayed.

“What kind of music ?” he asked, voice dipping into something gentler.

You hesitated. “…Instrumental.”

“No lyrics ?”

You shook your head.

“Okay. So you like stuff that doesn’t talk much. That makes sense.”

There was a tiny flicker at the corner of your lips. Not quite a smile. But almost. Bradley caught it like it was gold dust.

“Are you from around here ?” he tried again, as casually as he could.

You shrugged. “Sort of.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You glanced at him. “It is.”

He chuckled, arms dropping as he leaned a little closer to your screen, trying to read what you were working on. “You calibrating the response latency on Phoenix’s sim log ?”

“Yes.”

“Wanna explain it to me like I’m five ?”

“No.”

He laughed—this full, warm thing that drew glances from two other pilots on their way out. You didn’t laugh with him, but you did nod, slow and almost amused as you went back to work. And that was something. Bradley stared at you for another second. Then, without a word, he picked up the half-empty coffee cup you’d been nursing since morning and pulled a black Sharpie from his back pocket.

He scribbled something near the rim, just above the sleeve, and set it gently back beside you. You didn’t look up. But you didn’t tell him to go, either. He turned and left with a smirk playing at his lips.

Once you were sure he was gone, you reached out, fingers curling around the cup like it was something private. You turned it, just slightly. In dark, careful handwriting, it said:

‘Don’t worry, 

I talk enough for both of us.’

You stared at it for a second. Just long enough for the smallest smile to touch your lips—the kind you’d never let him see.

Not yet.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The Hard Deck was buzzing, already alive by the time you stepped through the doors. Half-empty beer bottles, familiar voices crashing over each other like waves, Phoenix’s laughter echoed from the pool table and a Springsteen song rumbled from the jukebox. Bradley was already there, leaning back at the bar, flashing that easy, sun-warmed smile at anyone who passed. As usual, he was dressed in an open Hawaiian shirt with a simple white T-shirt, his aviator pair on the tip of his nose, and his stupid moustache making him looking good as ever.

You hovered at the threshold longer than you meant to—long enough to wonder why you came, short enough that no one noticed—then slipped in quietly, the familiar hum of chatter wrapping around you like a cocoon. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly. You weren’t afraid of noise, just tired of being swallowed by it. But tonight, something pulled you in. Maybe it was the ache of loneliness that crept in when the hangar emptied you. Or maybe it was just the memory of Rooster’s smile earlier that morning, when he handed you coffee just to hear your thank-you. 

“Watch this.” Bradley said to Phoenix, next to him, as he saw you cross the room.

“You're gonna make a fool of yourself.” She laughed as he stood up, walking with a determined step towards you.

You found your usual corner near the window, sliding onto a stool with your drink and earphones already tucked in your jacket pocket. Not quite ready to drown out the noise, but ready to keep some space from it. You hadn’t even settled on a stool before a shadow fell beside you.

“There she is,” Bradley drawled, smooth and pleased, sidling up beside you with his usual beer in hand. “Didn’t think this place was your scene.”

You glanced at him sideways, eyes unreadable, and shrugged. “Got bored.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning one arm on the table next to you, his attention all yours. “You in a bar full of pilots ? That’s not boredom. That’s anthropology.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe I’m observing.”

He grinned wide, taking that as a win. “See ? She does talk.” He says loud enough so Nat could hear it.

You didn’t reply. Just looked at him with wide eyes and sipped your drink, letting the silence settle again.

Bradley seemed content to fill it. “You always just… listen ?” He asked, watching over the rim of his bottle.

You gave a small shrug. “Someone has to.”

His eyes softened, “I like your voice.” He said unbothered by your silence. 

That pulled something from you—the tiniest exhale of laugh, gone before fully formed. But he caught it, and his grin widened even more when he saw your cheeks getting slightly red. “There it is,” he said, mock-dramatic. “A sound. We’ve got confirmation of life.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no heat in it.

Across the room, near the jukebox, Fanboy nudged Payback and nodded toward you both.

“Ten bucks says he won’t get her to say more than four words tonight,” Fanboy said.

Payback chuckled. “I’ll take that bet. Bradshaw’s relentless.”

Back at the corner, Bradley didn’t care. Didn’t even notice. He was too focused on you—on the way your fingers traced the rim of your glass, the way you listened like it mattered. Then, he seemed to be slowing down, leaning against the edge of your space like he might stay there all night.

“You ever drink anything stronger than water ?” He asked, nudging his empty bottle toward your glass.

“I had whiskey last week.” You murmured.

Bradley arched an eyebrow. “One whiskey ?”

You let the corner of your mouth twitch. “Two.”

He laughed, the sound full and bright, startling in the close space between you. You turned slightly toward him, just enough to give him your attention—not more, not yet.

“I think people forget you have a voice,” he said, his tone quieter now, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I mean, I see you every day. Running diagnostics, fixing our busted egos in the sims, headphones always on. But nobody really talks to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, fingers tapping the base of your glass.

“Why’d you stop flying ?” He asked suddenly, not unkindly. Just… curious.

You glanced away for a beat, surprised he knew that, then shrugged. “Liked control more.”

Bradley’s smile softened, fading into something more thoughtful. “You ever miss it ?”

You paused. Then, so quiet he almost missed it: “Sometimes.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment—just looked at you, like he wanted to remember the sound of your voice exactly as it was. Then someone brushed past you on the way to the bar, a blonde woman in a sundress, tall and glowing, with a spark in her eye and a laugh that cut clean through the room. Confident in a way that glittered, she moved like she already knew who would be watching her, and her eyes locked onto Bradley.

You caught the way his eyes settled on her. Not just a glance, but a long, lingering stare, the kind that said he was interested, curious, maybe even impressed. His usual playful charm softened into something quieter, more focused, like he was seeing something worth leaning into, and for a moment, it was like you weren’t even in the room.

Anyway, he stayed with you a little longer. 

And unconsciously, you gave him more than usual tonight—a full five minutes of quiet conversation, soft answers barely audible beneath the noise, a trace of a smile when he teased you about something you just said. It was the most you’d spoken to him outside the sim bay, and for a moment, it felt like something shifted. Like maybe he saw you a little more clearly now.

Then your glass emptied. You stood slowly, nodding toward the bartender on the far end. “Be right back.” You took his empty bottle in your hand, without asking him. 

He thanked you and straightened, stretching his arms back just enough for the fabric of his shirt to pull across his broad shoulders. The movement was effortless, the kind of thing he didn’t even know he was doing. “Don’t disappear on me.” He called, half-laughing, as you stepped away, weaving through shoulders and laughter. You didn’t answer, just slipped into the crowd, quiet as ever. 

You didn’t see the blonde until you were halfway to the bar, but he saw her. She brushed past you with the kind of scent you couldn’t name but somehow noticed. And by the time you looked back, his eyes were already on her. Focused. That warm, open grin of his softened into something more curious, the kind of look he gave to things he wanted to figure out—the same look he gave you earlier that morning. When she glanced over and smile, he smiled back like it was instinct. The blonde placed a hand on his forearm, light and lingering, nails painted in a summer pink. And he didn’t move an inch away. 

He tilted his head, smiling down at her like they’d known each other longer than thirty seconds. That familiar warmth in his eyes—the one he gave you—was now entirely hers. Your grip on his bottle tightened and you turned back toward the bar, but not for the bartender anymore. Instead you set the bottle and your glass gently on a vacant corner. 

“Doesn’t need his beer anymore.” You muttered under your breath. 

“Ditching the golden boy already ?” Phoenix’s voice came from beside you, light but knowing. 

You didn’t flinch, just gave her a small shrug, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere past the jukebox. “He’s got company.” You said quietly. 

She followed your gaze. Her expression didn’t change, but you caught the way she exhaled slowly, like she wanted to say something. Instead, she offered a soft nudge to your shoulder. “Come shoot a round with me. Before Bradshaw says something stupid dumb and ruins both your nights.”

You nodded once, grateful, and let her steer you away—away from the laughter from the blonde, from the part of you that had started to hope he’s look for you first.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The next few days passed in a blur of drills and simulator runs, but something was off. Bradley felt it before he even saw it. A shift in the air, subtle and sharp. The way people say you can sense a storm rolling on, not by the thunder, but by how still the birds go. 

You were still there in the sim bay every morning, like clockwork. Still perched at your console with your headphones draped around your neck, fingers flying over diagnostic keys. Still responding to reports, confirming flight data, calling out corrections with crisp professionalism. 

But you weren’t there. Not like before. 

You didn’t glance over when he leaned on the edge of your desk with his usual swagger, coffee cup in hand, teasing tone ready. You’d just take the cup without eye contact, said a flat, “Thanks”, and go back to the screen like he hadn’t just offered you the sun. 

No smile. No soft voice. No quiet moment like before. Bradley stood there a second longer, watching you scroll through diagnostics. The first time, he brushed it off. Maybe you were tired or busy. The second time, it tugged a little. But the third ? It started to sting. 

“Rough morning ?” he asked that day, testing the waters. He watched you from just a few feet away, trying to catch your expression through the edge of your hair. But you didn’t even blink. Didn’t even lift your head. Just muttered, “No”, and continued typing. 

Bradley lingered awkwardly for a few seconds longer, waiting—for a smile, a glance, anything. But you never looked up. He left the coffee on the corner of your console and walked away like a door had closed behind him.

And it stuck with him. It gnawed at him all day. During simulator drills, debriefs, even lunch where he barely touched his food, through endless conversations with teammates where he found himself half-listening, distracted by the feeling of something slipping out of reach. By the time evening rolled around, he couldn’t shake it. He found Phoenix on the flight deck catwalk, where the sky was bruising purple, and the air still carried salt and heat.

“What did I do ?” He asked impatient.

She didn’t looked away from the horizon, “To who ?”

He looked at her like it was obvious and sighed, “Whisper.”

Now she looked at him, one brow lifted. “You mean besides not shutting up around her ?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes. “No, I mean lately. She’s been…” He exhaled hard. “Different. Cold.”

Phoenix tilted her head, giving him a long, pointed look. Then she asked, “You really don’t get it ?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was hesitation in his eyes. “Get what ?”

“She saw you Bradshaw.”

He blinked, “Saw me what ?”

Phoenix pushed off the railing, folding her arms. “You flirted with some random at the Hard Deck right after spending all night talking her out of her shell. And she saw you. Every second of it.”

Bradley’s mouth opened slightly. “What ? No, I wasn’t— I just talked to her for a second—”

“Bradley,” Phoenix’s voice dropped, serious now. “She was holding your damn beer to get you a new one. She wanted to come back to you.”

He stopped. Actually stopped. Like the weight of those words landed straight on his chest. “I didn’t…” He scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He muttered.

She softened a little but didn’t let him off the hook. “Didn’t have to.” She waited a beat, then said more gently, “She’s quiet, not stupid. You think that kind of girl opens up to just anyone ?”

He didn’t answer. Because he was thinking about the bar now. About the way your eyes had briefly flicked toward him when the blonde leaned in. About how your expression had shuttered before he could even recognize the look behind it. 

Phoenix watched him closely, then nudged his shoulder. “So. Fix it. Or at least don’t make it worse.”

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

Two days went by.

Long enough for Bradley to feel every inch of it—in the clipped responses, in the polite nods, in the way you passed him in the corridor like he was another file to be sorted and ignored. 

And it was driving him insane.

Because you weren’t the kind of person to shut people out impulsively. You were calculated, quiet, deliberate in everything you did. And this coldness wasn’t sudden. It was chosen. Thought through.

Which meant it hurt.

He spent hours turning it over in his head, reliving that night at the Hard Deck, the way you’d said ‘Be right back’ like it meant something, like you were truly planning on coming back to him and not just disappear as he thought you would. And how he’d let himself be pulled into a meaningless moment with a girl he didn’t even remember the name of. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing. Not until Phoenix spelled it out for him in painfully clear words.

So now he sat with that. The guilt, the frustration, the quiet hollow ache of knowing he’d hurt someone who barely let people close to begin with. And he wanted to fix it. But with you, big gestures didn’t work. He knew that. You didn’t want spectacle, you wanted sincerity. Something simple. Something honest.

So that morning, before anyone else was in the sim bay, he left a flash drive on your console. No note. No explanation. Just slid it onto the edge of your desk beside your water bottle and walked away without a word.

You noticed it the moment you sat down.

A plain silver drive, no label. But when you hovered over the files on your screen an hour later, curiosity finally won over.

“Songs You Should Smile To — A Rooster Original”

You stared at the name for a long moment, your finger paused above the track list. You didn’t open it right away. Didn’t smile, either. Just… paused. Then clicked. The first song was soft, warm around the edges. The kind of sound that lingered like late sunshine on concrete. It played in your headphones for exactly thirty-eight seconds before you stopped it. Then closed the window. Then unplugged the drive.

You slipped it into your pocket like it was something fragile.

Later that day, while the rest of the pilots were out on deck, Bradley circled back into the sim bay. You were alone at your station, typing quietly, brows drawn together as you reviewed a diagnostic thread. He lingered by the edge of the console—not leaning in like usual, not crowding your space—just there. Treading softly.

“Hey,” he said gently, scratching at the back of his neck. “Did you, uh… open it?”

You didn’t look at him. Just nodded. “Yeah.”

That was it.

A single syllable, flat as an ocean on a windless day. You didn’t elaborate. Didn’t offer a smile. Didn’t even glance his way.

Bradley hesitated, thumb rubbing the edge of his palm. “Cool,” he said, too quickly. Then added, “Just figured… you might need a better soundtrack. Y’know. For… stuff.”

No reply. No warmth. Nothing to hold on to. You didn’t ignore him, but you didn’t give him anything, either. And that was somehow worse. He lingered for a second longer, then gave a small nod and turned away. Chest tight, mouth pressed into a thin line.

But he didn’t see the way your fingers curled slightly as he walked off. The way your eyes flicked toward the flash drive, still safe in your pocket. Or even the way you waited until the door hissed shut behind him before reaching for your headphones again.

You started the playlist over. From the beginning this time.

»» ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ««

The Hard Deck was loud that night. Louder than usual. Full of laughter, clinking bottles, half-sung choruses to half-remembered songs. Bradley was already two beers in when he dropped onto a stool by the bar, half-listening to Hangman brag about something no one cared about and trying not to look toward the door every few minutes like some hopeful idiot.

You hadn’t showed up yet. 

He told himself he wasn’t looking. That he didn’t care. That it was just a normal night, and he was just enjoying the bar like everyone else. 

But then he heard it.

The song.

Soft drums, rising gently above the noise, his heart stuttered.

“I want to know what love is” by the Foreigner.

It wasn’t one of the Hard Deck bangers, not on Penny’s usual rotation. It was his song. The first track on the playlist he gave you. One that made him grin when it came on during drives, made him think of wind in his hair and summers that never quite ended. It wasn’t loud enough to cut through pool games or Payback’s booming laugh across the room. But loud enough for him to hear it.

He blinked, turning toward the jukebox automatically.

And there you were.

Alone, standing quietly with one hand still resting lightly against the machine, like you weren’t quite sure you were allowed to touch it. Head bowed just a little, listening. You looked soft in the amber glow of the neon bar lights. 

Playing his song.

Bradley was on his feet before he could stop himself. He crossed the floor slowly, weaving through the crowd as his pulse ticking somewhere behind his ribs, watching you with a quiet disbelief. You didn’t turn until he was almost beside you. Then, finally, your eyes lifted to meet his. There was something unreadable in your expression: something brave.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“I liked this one.” You said simply, your voice barely louder than the song. 

Just that.

No buildup. No grand declaration. But your voice was warmer than it had been in days, and your eyes held a softness he hadn’t seen since before that night at the bar. And Bradley melted. A breath escaped his chest like relief and hope all tangled into one. “Yeah ?” He asked, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “I thought you might.”

You gave a tiny nod, barely there. “Had it on repeat all night.”

He smiled then. Really smiled. The kind that stretched across his face like a sunrise. His heart clenched in his chest, and for once, he couldn’t find a smooth comeback. Just stood there, quiet in front of the quietest person he knew, feeling every word like it had weight. 

 “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “For that night. I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t trying to…”

“I know.” Your eyes didn’t leave his.

And then—finally—you smiled. Bradley exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath since that night. You looked at him for a long time, longer than you ever had before. The jukebox kept playing as the music wrapped around you both like velvet.

Bradley laughed under his breath, “There it is.”

The jukebox’s glow flickered softly across your face, casting colors that shimmered like stained glass: red across your jaw, blue across your lashes. You were looking at him like he’d said something sacred. Like he hadn’t messed it all up.

Bradley’s throat tightened. His hands ached to move—to reach for you, to tuck that strand of hair behind your ear, to do something—but he didn’t. He didn’t move. Didn’t trust himself not to screw it up by rushing. So he stood there, holding his breath, watching you like he’d watch a sunrise he was afraid to blink through.

And you… you just looked at him for a moment longer. Eyes calm, unreadable, but soft. Then slowly—so slowly he almost thought he imagined it—your hand reached up. Fingers brushed lightly against the collar of his shirt, then steadied there, like an anchor. You leaned in, hesitant, but sure, eyes locked on his, not breaking even once. Bradley’s breath caught. His lips parted just slightly. He still didn’t move.

But you did.

You kissed him.

Not tentative. Not shy. Not loud, but louder than anything you’d ever said before. It was soft, but certain, the kind of kiss that said everything you never did. And Bradley melted into it. When he finally kissed you back—deeper, more grounded, hand slipping gently around your waist—it felt like exhaling after months of holding his breath. Like gravity stopped pulling and just let him float.

And in the background, Kelly Hansen sang on : 

I wanna feel what love is, I know you can show me…

[fandomtrela]

This hits me right in the emotional hurt/comfort feels 🥺🥺🥺

Whispers in the Night || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Can i request a jake x reader where they're partners/married and she's pregnant (maybe like 6 months) and he has to go on a mission. when he gets back she's just super clingy because 1) she was worried and scared and 2) she just missed him. and maybe he snaps at her

A/N: TY for the request. Love Jake sm!! Enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The house felt different without Jake. His absence echoed through the rooms leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill. As you sat on the couch the silence of the house felt deafening in Jake's absence. Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your swollen belly seeking comfort in the life growing inside you. But despite the reassuring kicks and movements from your unborn child there was an undeniable sense of unease that settled deep within your heart.

Each day without Jake felt like an eternity. The minutes dragging on as you counted down the moments until his return. You tried to distract yourself with mundane tasks, but the worry and anticipation gnawed at your insides like a relentless tide. Jake made sure you weren’t completely alone though. His mom came to stay with you for a few weeks. Your mom popped over as she could as she lived a few hours away. Even friends would come over keeping you busy, and mind occupied when he wasn’t there. But the nights were always hard. Always when you craved his touch and sweet whispers. Six weeks was a long time for him to be away in the middle of your pregnancy, but you knew what you signed up for when you married him a few years ago.

Being accustomed to Jake's dangerous line of work did little to ease your anxiety this time around. If anything, the realization that you were six months pregnant only amplified your fears. Every news report, every phone call filled you with dread. You mind always seemed to imagine the worst-case scenarios playing out. To add insult to injury you couldn’t even call him or write him. They were on a no contact mission. Your least favorite.

You longed for his presence, his reassuring touch, his calming voice. But as the days turned into weeks, the void left by his absence only seemed to grow larger, consuming you with a sense of longing for the man you called your husband.

Perhaps it was just your maternal instinct kicking in, but the fear of the unknown loomed over you like a dark cloud. It cast a shadow over even the brightest moments. You tried to stay strong for yourself and for your unborn child, but deep down the uncertainty gnawed at your heart with every passing moment. Fortunately for you it was coming up on six weeks and thankfully it had been radio silent. That was the best-case scenario for these types of missions.

The familiar sound of the front door opening stirred you from your slumber though you remained in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness. As you shifted slightly in bed you felt a pair of strong arms enveloping you pulling you into a warm embrace. Startled by the touch your eyes fluttered open. Y you were met with the sight of Jake, his beautiful face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window.

"Jake?" you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

He smiled over at you with his eyes filled with tenderness. "Hey, sweetheart. It's just me. Go back to sleep love." he reassured you. His voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the night.

You blinked trying to process the sudden appearance of your husband. "You're home early though," you observed, your heart fluttering with a mixture of surprise and joy. You were supposed to pick him up from the base in a few days’ time. This was a wonderful surprise though.

Jake nodded as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "The mission ended earlier than expected. Everyone was eager to get back home.  We all voted on coming back. I just couldn’t wait to see my beautiful wife." he explained. His voice tinged with relief as he watched you with the utmost love in his eyes.

You melted into his embrace. Feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar scent of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting blanket. Despite the initial shock of being awakened from your sleep there was no place you'd rather be than in Jake's arms. As you nestled closer to him you became acutely aware of the changes in your body since he had left. The baby had grown significantly in the six weeks of his absence. Evidence of the new life growing inside you.

He shifted slightly in bed his hand finding its way to your larger belly now. With a tender touch, he traced gentle circles on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "The little one has grown a lot," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and awe as he held you close to him revealing in your heartbeat. It was always a silent comfort he craved and missed so dearly while deployed.

You smiled feeling a surge of affection for the man lying beside you. "Growing big and strong just like his or her daddy," you teased while running a hand through his now shaggy hair. The two of you opted to keep the gender a surprise.

He chuckled softly as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "I missed you, angel" he murmured. His words a silent promise of his unwavering devotion. And as you lay entwined in each other's arms the worries and uncertainties of the world faded away leaving behind only the overwhelming love and warmth that bound you together.

As the next day wore on, Jake couldn't shake off the feeling of being overwhelmed by your presence. Not that it was your intention. But the sheer intensity of your need for him seemed to permeate the very air around them. You craved him, your every move mirroring his own as if you couldn't bear to let him out of your sight for even a moment.

At first Jake found your clinginess endearing. It was a testament to the depth of your love and longing. A quiet declaration of your desire to be close to him after his long absence. He welcomed your affection. Your constant need for his presence filling a void he hadn't even realized existed.

But as the hours stretched on your constant proximity began to grate on his nerves. Every time he turned around you were there watching him with worried eyes. Your need for him palpable in every touch, every word. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate your affection – far from it. But the intensity of your clinginess seemed to smother him leaving him gasping for air in the suffocating embrace of your love.

Jake's time on the carrier had left him overstimulated. He was constantly surrounded by noise and activity. Now back in the familiar confines of home the silence seemed deafening, yet your presence felt like an onslaught of sensory overload. He longed for solitude, for a moment of peace to collect his thoughts and decompress after the chaos of his mission.

Your concern for him only heightened the pressure he felt. The weight of your worry pressing down on him. He knew you meant well, that your clinginess was a manifestation of your love and longing for him. But right now, he just needed space. With every touch, every word, he felt the walls closing in around him. The need for air becoming more desperate with each passing moment. He tried to push down the rising tide of frustration. To swallow the bitter taste of guilt that lingered on his tongue. But it was a losing battle.

As he retreated into himself seeking solace in the quiet recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at the hurt he knew his words would cause you. But in that moment he couldn't bear to think about anything except the overwhelming need to be alone. To find respite from the constant barrage of emotions threatening to engulf him.

No sooner had he settled on the couch trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. He felt your presence hovering nearby. You stood at the edge of the room. Your eyes never leaving him. Your need for his attention a silent plea that echoed in the silence of the house.

"Y/N, can't you find something else to do?" Jake finally asked. Unable to contain his frustration any longer.

Your heart sank at the sharpness of his tone, the hurt evident in your eyes as you took a step back. A tear welled up in the corner of your eye showing him the hurt you felt inside at the words he just spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," you whispered. Your voice trembling with emotion. "I think it's the hormones."

Jake's heart sank at the sound of your voice. The weight of your words hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could see the hurt etched on your face. The vulnerability in your eyes tugging at his heartstrings.

His expression softened at realization of the pain he had caused evident in his eyes. "No, angel, it's not your fault," he murmured. His voice filled with regret. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I was just... overwhelmed."

He reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away feeling self-conscious over your sudden clinginess to him. With a heavy heart you turned away walking out of the room despite his profuse apologies. Jake watched helplessly as you retreated into yourself. The distance between you growing with each passing moment.

Jake felt a heavy sense of regret weighing on his chest as he watched you retreat away. Despite his apologies he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let you down. That he had failed to provide the comfort and reassurance you needed in that moment of vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to you. To wrap you in his arms and soothe away the hurt he had caused, but he knew that he had to give you the space you needed.

As the hours passed Jake found himself pacing the empty rooms of the house. The silence you had grown accustomed to weighing heavily on his shoulders. He tried to focus on the tasks at hand to distract himself from the gnawing sense of unease that lingered in the back of his mind. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to permeate every corner of the house. Was this how you felt when he was gone?

Meanwhile, you lay curled up on the bed. Your thoughts consumed by the events of the day. Despite your best efforts to push them away the hurtful words and the sharpness of Jake's tone echoed in your mind. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious of your actions, second-guessing every word you had spoken and every tear you had shed. Even when Jake checked in on you with his concern evident in every word and gesture you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Your need for solitude outweighing the comfort of his presence. You were embarrassed. How could you not pick up on the signs? Of course, he needed space. Missions were a drag. You knew that better than anyone.

And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the darkness of night descended upon the house you remained cocooned in your own thoughts. The distance between you and Jake stretching on indefinitely.

But as night fell and the quiet of the house enveloped them, Jake couldn't bear it any longer. He found you in the bedroom where you’d been all day, curled up on the bed. Your tears staining the pillow beneath your head. Without a word he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

As Jake held you in his embrace he felt the tension in your body slowly begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort that washed over him like a gentle tide. He knew that you were pretending to be asleep, your breathing steady and even, but he also knew you too well to be fooled by the facade.

"I know you're awake, angel," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness of the room.

You remained silent. Your eyes closed as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body enveloping you like a protective shield. Despite the hurt and the distance that had grown between you, you couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of relief that flooded through you at his touch. The knowledge that he was there by your side, ready to mend the cracks in your fragile heart.

"I'm so sorry, angel," Jake whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never should have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you."

You opened your eyes meeting his gaze with a mixture of sadness and longing. "I'm sorry too," you replied. Your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I don’t know what’s going on with me." And with that you felt more tears falling.

Jake shook his head. His expression softening as he cupped your face in his hands. "No, baby, you have nothing to apologize for," he insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "I love how much you care, how much you need me. It's what makes us work. I let my own stress get the better of me rather than talking about it with you. I should have leaned on you instead of pushing you away."

As his words washed over you, a sense of relief flooded through you, the weight of guilt lifting from your shoulders. You realized that despite the challenges you faced, the love and understanding between you were stronger than ever before.

Jake's thumb gently brushed away the tears that still lingered on your cheeks. His touch tender and reassuring. Pulling you close, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His hands drifted down to cup your growing belly, whispering sweet nothings to the baby growing inside. The sensation sent your heart into overdrive with a surge of warmth spreading through you at the sight of Jake's adoration for your little one.

And as Jake leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, you felt the steady emotion of love wash over you. The barriers that had kept you apart crumbling away in the face of your shared love and forgiveness.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[fandomtrela]

This was a nice,cute story! 🥰❤️

CLEM ITS BEEN 1 YEAR I MISS YOU AND YOUR TOP GUN STUFF

Hi, it’s Wolfman - Leonard ‘Wolfman’ Wolfe.

Prompt: You and Leonard didn’t end your relationship in the best of terms but a surprise phone call from him three years later might change everything

Words ~1500

Warning: none

Notes: Hello back folks! Not back full time but I managed to finish this small fic that had been in my drafts for a year so enjoy! And not gonna lie publishing a new fic after so long did put a smile on my face. If you have any prompt ideas let me know so I can get my inspiration back flowing. Do not copy, translate or repost my work without my consent ! Highly unedited but it’s 2am you’ll excuse me.

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« Hey, it’s y/n I'm not home right now but leave a message and I’ll call you back. »

Of course he would end up on your machine. It was the middle of the day so you were most certainly at work. He sighed and put his back against the wall. “Hey, it’s wolfman…” he said on the other end of the phone.

The fact that your ex-boyfriend of three years could call you out of the blue after so much time shocked you.

It didn’t really end well between you two actually. It ended in screams and cries for the both of you over stupid pointless things.

“I am just saying you’re never home anymore. I know you have a job with responsibilities and everything but whenever you’re not on deployment you spend your days and night with your friends or at the bar but never with me anymore. I can’t stay with someone that doesn’t want to be with me anymore Leonard. You’re exhausting to be around, emotionally and mentally.” You cried. He didn’t reply. He looked at you for a minutes with tears in his eyes. Instead he just left again and actually this time, he never came back. You couldn’t even cry anymore because you had cried too much already. You just accepted the fact that he would probably never come back home.

And he never did. It’s been 3 years since he left. You had no idea what he was up to now and to be honest you didn’t care anymore.

« I don’t even know if you’re home right now, you’re probably at work or whatever. Or maybe you’ve changed your number or I don’t know. But if this is you please call me back ´cause »

His voice stopped for a minute, you were waiting, wanting to know what he will tell you next. How is it that after so much time you cared so much ?

Hearing his voice brought back memories you didn’t know you had anymore.

« For god’s sake Leonard talk! » you said to yourself.

« We’ll ´cause I miss you. » he said and your heart dropped. You didn’t know hearing him say this would hurt so much but it does and you hate him for saying this.

« Leonard wait ! » you shout as you pick up the phone.

There is a deafening silence as you wait for him to speak.

« H-hi, I uh… I didn’t know if you would be at home or not. I uh… I just called because hum well I uh… » You wait, hopeful as Leonard keeps bumping on his words.

« I miss you. » He finally says. You bite your lip, trying to find your words. After all, you went no contact for three years. « It’s a little late for this don’t you think ? » You reply. « I know. » He replies with a sigh. « Why now ? » « You were right. That day when you told me I was never there for you. You were right. I spent all my time back then with my friends and at work and I didn’t put you first and I regretted it and the fact that you made me face the truth scared me because I didn’t want you to be able to read me the way you did so I just- I left. And I have regretted this every second of every day ever since but I can’t face the truth anymore. I am not scared to admit that you were right and I’m not scared to admit that I miss the way you used to know every single thing about me and the way you knew what I thought and what I felt and I miss you. I miss us. I have changed Y/N, I’m not scared of this anymore and I want all of this back. I need all of this back. » You stay silent for a minute as you process his words as a single tear pearls in your eye. « Why should I trust you ? You left me when it got real so what tells me you won’t do it again ? » You reply. « I know it’s hard to regain trust in somebody and I know I broke that trust when I left and I know it’s going to be hard for you to trust me again but I want to put in the work that’s needed. I still love you Y/N and I know you might not love me back anymore but please Y/N, give me another chance. »

You ponder the pros and cons of this decision silently and the line goes silent for a while before you reply. « I still love you too. »

Leonard let’s out a sigh of relief and it makes you smile. “I’m uh- I’m in Miramar right now. It’s hard I can’t lie.” Hearing this makes you smile. “Wow TopGun. You made it Leonard. I’m so happy for you.” “Thanks.” He replies with a chuckle. “I don’t think I would’ve made it without you.” “How so ? We haven’t seen each other in three years.” “I never forgot about us. And I told myself I needed to do this, to be a better man, for you to be proud of me. I fucked us up but I was willing to not let myself down. I did this for myself but I did this for us too.” “I really am proud of you Leonard. You can be proud of yourself.” “Thank you Y/N.”

Well now that I know how you feel I’m for sure not going to let you go again Y/N.” He replies as you smile to yourself. “I think I really need to see you and tell you face to face that I’m unable to forget you and that I still love you Y/N.” His words made your heart miss a beat. “You do?” You ask. “Yeah.”

There is a silence between you two. But it’s not at all uncomfortable. You’re simply trying to take it all in. What he said, what you’re thinking, what’s next. “So what next?” You ask.

Another silence filled the room. “I really need to see you Y/N.” “I’m actually not too far believe it or not. I moved to San Diego a few months ago.” You reply. “You did?” “Yeah I needed a change of scenery so I picked a city and moved. After all there was nothing holding me back anymore. I really like it here, it’s peaceful and I got a new job in a new school after I finished college and here I am.” “Wow Y/N I’m really happy for you really.” “Thanks Leonard, that means a lot to me.” “So when can I see you?” “When do you finish Top Gun?” “In a few weeks” “Well I can come up to Miramar when you’re finished and we can start over.” “I’d love that Y/N” “Alright then. Call me when you’re finished.” “My graduation is on the 27th.” “Is this an invitation? You know I don’t actually need to tap you out anymore right? This isn’t flight school Leonard.” “I know yeah. But I’d still like it if you came.” “I’ll see what I can do then.”

A few weeks later you’ve decided to surprise Leonard for his TopGun graduation. He had called you a couple days ago but you were unable to get back to him and confirm you were going to be there on the day. You were sitting in the back trying to find Leonard in the crowd of his peers. For once he wasn’t able to wear his famous Stetson so you had a hard time discerning him in the crowd of dress whites. When you finally spotted him you couldn’t help but grin. He seemed restless in his seat, trying to see if you had actually come but wasn’t able to spot you.

He turned around, surprised, and when he saw you his faced changed for the biggest smile you’ve seen on him and he engulfed you into the tightest hug ever. His faced nestled itself in your neck and the knot in your stomach loosened instantly.

“You’re here.” He said quietly without letting go of you. “I always keep my word you know that.” “I know. I adore you for this.” He said after finally loosening his grip. “And I love you.” Hearing the words come out of his mouth after three years made your heart skip a beat. “Shit, Y/N you remember Hollywood.” He said while turning around to face his fellow airman. “Oh my god, I didn’t recognise you there Rick. How are you?” “I’m great Y/N, long time no see, how are you?” “Doing great now. Decided to surprise this one today.” You reply looking at Wolfman as he turns his face to you with a tender smile on his face. “Are you back together?” Hollywood ask, grinning. “I’m going to do everything for it to happen.” Leonard replies, looking gently into your eyes as you give him a gentle smile.

[fandomtrela]

This was so cute! 🥰🥺

A Tap to Love ~ Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

synopsis: Tapping a stranger out was the start to the rest of your life.

tw: fem!reader, reader's ex is an ass, reader makes the questionable choice of going with Bradley after just meeting him, friends to lovers, idiots in love, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

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It wasn't supposed to be like this, your boyfriend, well ex now, said he was just going to tap out a friend. Yet, she threw herself into his arms once she was tapped out and pressed her lips to his. Then he introduced you as his friend who just needed a ride here, and the two left you stranded alone.

You took a trip to the bathroom, you didn't want to cry in front of a bunch of Navy men. But when you left the bathroom, you noticed a man, one who was still standing at attention. You slowly walked over, wondering how odd it would be to tap a stranger out.

"Uh, hi," you said before placing your hand on his shoulder. You saw how he relaxed his stance and peered down at you, god he was tall. "I don't know if you have people coming or not, but I saw you from over there and it seemed like you were one of the last people still at attention. So, I decided to tap you out," you rambled, unsure if you made the right decision. But then he collapsed into your arms, pulling you tight to him as he breathed in your scent like you were the oasis in a desert.

"Thank you," he whispered, tightening his arms around you. You tightened yours in return, letting him hold you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. He pulled away slowly but kept his hands on your waist, his eyes searching yours. "I, uh, I didn't have anyone here to tap me out," he told you and saw your face flash a few emotions at once.

"Oh, what was going to happen then?"

"One of the COs would tap me out, or I would wait until everyone was tapped out before I moved," he explained and you pouted at the idea. Bradley would later tell everyone that your pout, the little crease in your forehead as you pouted, was the reason he fell in love right then.

"That's bullshit," you muttered, your pout deepening. It was only then that Bradley had a thought.

"Aren't you here for family or something?" His hands quickly moving off your waist in fear of you being taken.

"No, my boyfriend, well ex now, took me here claiming to be tapping a friend out. But when he did, he kissed her and said I was only his friend. They left me here with no way to leave," you told him. Bradley was outraged at the idea, who would cheat on you? "Wait, this is a big day. You survived bootcamp, we should celebrate," you told him.

"We?" It came out more questioning than he liked.

"Well, duh," your smile returning. "We're friends now, no take backs," you pointed at him and he laughed with you.

"Ok, come on, my car is parked in the parking lot," he took your hand in his and led you to his Bronco. Bradley opened the door for you to jump into the passenger seat before closing it once you were in. He rounded the car and got into his seat after throwing his things into the back.

"This is a bad way to start our friendship, but what's your name?" You sheepishly looked at him, you were very aware of the fact that you were in the car with an unknown man.

"Bradley Bradshaw, though my callsign's Rooster," he told you and you smiled.

"I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," you told him as you watched him drive.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Bradley ended up just getting burgers and going to his place for a movie.

"My mom would have a fit if she knew I was at a stranger's house," you said with a laugh.

"More or less mad that you were left by your asshole of an ex on a Navy base?" Bradley questioned, you were leaning into his side as you watched the movie play out.

"Probably tied," you told him, your finger absentmindedly drawing random shapes on Bradley's leg. "Though I think she'd be proud of me for helping you," you sighed, pressing into Bradley's side even more. Bradley adjusted to lay down and pulled you to lay on top of him, your chest pressed into his stomach while your head rested on his chest. You made yourself more comfortable against him and didn't even try to fight the pull of sleep.

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The moon was still out when you woke up, you were in a bed with a warm body pressed against your back and an arm thrown over your middle. You briefly recalled Bradley waking you up earlier to walk to you his room, let you use his face wash to remove your makeup, and give you a shirt and some of his sweatpants for you to sleep in. Now you were uncomfortably hot in the sweatpants and wanted nothing more than to strip them off. You tried not to squirm too much but apparently it was enough for Bradley to wake up.

"Are you ok?" Bradley questioned and it took you a full minute to respond after hearing his morning voice.

"Would it be weird for me to take the sweatpants off? I'm hot," you mumbled.

"Not unless you make it weird," Bradley answered you and you nodded while scooting away from him, you scrunched in on yourself a little before stripping the sweats off and throwing them on the floor. Bradley pulled you back into him as you both got pulled back into sleep, the last thought to cross both of your minds was 'I never want to leave'.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Years passed like that, you and Bradley got close yet never enough. You spent more time in Bradley's bed than yours but nothing happened. Not when you would spend the last 24 hours with him before deployment and not when you were there when he got back.

Eventually you thought moving away, putting physical distance between you two, would be enough to keep your feelings away.

"I got a job offer in San Diego," you told Bradley one day, you were currently in his apartment a few minutes away from Oceana.

"Are you taking it?" Bradley questioned, he would never tell you to not take it, even if he wanted to be selfish and keep you with him forever.

"I think so, it pays a lot more and I'll be remote for all but one week a month," you told him, scooting closer to Bradley on the couch.

"When do you leave?" Bradley was understanding that this is what you felt like, the hollow feeling of knowing he wasn't going with you. That he would have to see you leave with nothing more than a goodbye.

"I start next week," you mumbled, looking down. "My grandma said I could stay with her until I found a house or apartment," you told him.

"I'll help you pack," Bradley said, he was determined to be with you as long as he could.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You had been gone for months when Bradley told you he was going back overseas in two weeks. You decided to go into work the next week and spend the week before he left with him.

You stood at his door, your bag in hand and hesitated for a moment. You were worried he wouldn't be excited to see you but you shook your head at the though. You nodded on the door and Bradley opened the door, he was wearing his signature jeans and Hawaiian shirt.

"Hi," you waved a little but Bradley pulled you into a hug.

"What are you doing here, sweetheart?" Bradley questioned, his pet name for you falling from his mouth like it was natural.

"You leave at the end of the week, I'm here to spend time with you," you told him, a smile overtaking your face. "Phone calls and Facetimes are nice and all but it's not like being right here," you added on and Bradley lead you to his couch.

"Where are you staying?" Bradley secretly hoped you would say with him.

"I have decided, I have some points I could use at the Comfort Inn," you told him, relaxing on his couch like you were meant to be there.

"Or you could stay with me," he offered and watched the way you lit up at the offer.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Then Bradley was gone and you were going back to San Diego, at some point you found yourself hoping he would come back to orders to Miramar. You suffered through phone calls when he had time and worrying if he was ok the other times.

You told yourself you needed to do something to keep your mind off of Bradley. So you went to the Hard Deck and offered Penny help when she needed it. You worked every other day mostly, sometimes everyday depending on how often the other bartenders were working.

You got called in, Penny told you there was an influx of Navy personnel and that she needed the help. It was normally a slower night, so it was only her there. You walked in after a bunch of people where there and a familiar voice was singing.

You saw Bradley sitting at the piano as he finished Great Balls of Fire, you made eye contact with him as he looked up and you made it to the bar. You gave him a small smile before placing your purse on the small shelf Penny leaves empty under the bar for that purpose and turning to work.

"Can I get a beer and possibly your number?" A blond was standing there, a smile on his face. You eyed his down, the name on the name tag on his khakis was vaguely familiar.

"A beer? Sure," you grabbed one of the bottles you had spied him holding when you walked in. "My number? Not so much," you gave him a smile as he payed and walked away. You looked back to the piano to see if Bradley was still there but you didn't see him, a part of you hoped he didn't leave.

"You're working at the Hard Deck?" Bradley's voice was to your left and you whipped your head up to look at him.

"Bradley!" You jumped a little to hug him over the counter and he laughed against you. "Not really, I help on nights Penny needs me," you told him as you spun to look at one of the regulars as they ordered another drink. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"Secret mission," he told you and you nodded slowly, you looked him up and down. He wasn't in his khakis like the others but he was still distinctly Bradley.

"Where are you staying?" You leaned on the counter in front of him, your eyes locking on his.

"Barracks," he told you and you pursed your lips.

"Uncomfortable," you replied before you were interrupted by the blond walking back up.

"If you told me no because I'm Navy, I have bad news for you," he told you, his smile on his face. You removed your gaze from Bradley and back to him.

"I know he's Navy," you replied. "Just like I know his name is Bradley Bradshaw and that he spends too much time obsessing over his mustache," you added on and you saw the blond have a flash of recognition.

"Hangman, this is y/n," Bradley introduced you to the blond and they both saw anger flash on your face.

"You're the asshole!" You announced loud enough that the other khakis turned their heads. Bradley laughed, loud and unguarded, as Jake held his hands up.

"I'm known as the asshole?" Jake questioned.

"To me, he calls you Hangman. But you're an asshole," you informed him, the bar had emptied out after Bradley's song and you were grateful. You watched as Jake spluttered for a few moments before Penny came up behind you.

"You can leave if you want, it's empty enough that I'll be able to manage," she told you, her hand on your shoulder.

"Are you sure?" You spun to face her and she nodded.

"Go," she handed you your purse and urged you out from behind the bar. You only made it a few steps before Bradley laced his fingers with yours and pulled you to the pool tables.

"This is y/n!" Bradley announced and you smiled at them all with a small wave, your hand still being held by Bradley.

"Hi," you greeted them, waving your right hand.

"You're the one that called Bagman an asshole," a woman greeted you. "I'm Phoenix," you shook her hand with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her and the rest of the introductions went like that. You ended the night with Bradley trailing behind you in his Bronco to your house. You had offered to let him stay with you if he wanted to be more comfortable and Bradley jumped on the offer.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You and Bradley really only had the brief early morning chats and sleepy night time hang outs. But it was time you cherished, you hadn't even noticed how much you were missing Bradley until he was with you.

You were sitting out back at the Hard Deck with Penny as she tried to balance her books. The entire group of pilots were playing dogfight football and you noticed Penny staring at Pete.

"What's going on with you and Mitchell?" You questioned, taking a sip of the strawberry lemonade you made yourself before offically joining Penny.

"Nothing, he's just an old friend," she told you but you raised an eyebrow.

"Old friend, huh?" You teased and she gave you a pointed look, you didn't hear her response as you saw Bradley chest bump someone before doing a little dance. A smile spread across your face as you watched it.

"What about you and Rooster?" Penny questioned and you whipped your head back to look at her.

"We're just friends," you told her and bit the bullet before she could try and tease you. "But you're right," you looked back at Bradley as they kept playing. "I do like him," you sighed.

"Why not tell him?"

"Are you kidding?" You looked back to her as they lifted Bob up as he won the game. "There's no way he likes me back," you told her, completely obvious to Bradley walking up to you.

"Who doesn't like you back?" Bradley asked and you looked up at him, your eyes lingering on his bare chest for a moment.

"Just some guy," you waved him off. "Why are you in jeans? Why are a lot of you in jeans?" You asked, disgusted by the idea.

"Not all of us have our entire closet or even thought we would be going to the beach," Bradley said and you raised your eyebrow while offering him a drink of your lemonade.

"Yeah ok, but you knew you were coming to San Diego and you didn't bring one pair of shorts?" You took your cup back and placed it on the table.

"You're just being judgmental," Bradley told you but you snorted a little.

"Sure," you replied, you saw how everyone was packing up behind him. "Go back to your friends, they're going to leave you," you waved him off and ignored the annoyed look on his face.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Here," you dropped a bag onto Bradley's lap when you walked into your living room.

"What is this?" Bradley questioned you.

"Shorts," you replied, sitting down next to him. "You'll need them if you and you're squadron are going to the beach," you told him, automatically throwing yourself against him.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were standing with Bradley at the dock, no one else had family or friends close enough for them to say goodbye to.

"You're one lucky man, Rooster," Natasha noted that you were the only non-Navy personnel there. "You're getting a hug before you leave," she added on at the confused faces of both of you.

"Oh!" You announced. "Here," you opened your arms and pulled the woman into a hug. She melted into your embrace and you held her just a little tighter. "Anyone else want a hug?" You asked the others, you ignored Bradley complaining that you were supposed to be there for him.

You hugged everyone, telling each of them to be careful and wishing them luck. You hugged them each like it was the last time you would see them. Not in a pessimistic way, in the way that if this was, in fact, the last hug they ever got, it would be a good one. "Thanks, y/n," Jake whispered to you as you hugged him last. You could hear the fear in his voice but you didn't comment on it.

"Ok, ok, let me say goodbye to my friend now, leave," Bradley shooed his friends away and you waved at them.

"You're selfish," you joked when you turned back to him.

"Can you blame me?" Bradley asked and you shook your head in amusement at him. "Come here," Bradley gently pulled you into another hug and you pressed your face into his neck.

"You come back to me, do you understand?" You questioned, your voice shaky. "I don't care what happens, if you're picked or not, you come back to me," you pleaded and Bradley wanted to promise, wanted to tell you that he would but he couldn't.

"I'l try, I'll try my hardest," he told you, the only promise he could make. Bradley pulled away when someone called for him and started to walk away.

You waved goodbye to Bradley as he walked away, he was walking backwards until he couldn't. Your smile was bittersweet and you stood by yourself. You could only stand there and hope that you would see the man you were in love with again.

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You were there at the dock when Bradley came back from the mission. You texted him where you were and what you were wearing, there were some people scattered around. It was a happier feeling then when they left, but you were worried. Bradley told you all he could, how he was picked and his plane went down. But he swore he was fine and that's what you wanted to believe.

"Y/n!" You heard Bradley's voice and started walking towards him. You were in his arms faster than you could process and you felt your tears running down your face.

"You made it back," was all you could say as you hugged him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"I did," he assured you and pulled away enough to see your face. You stared him down as you watched his eyes roam your face. You sucked in a breath and surged forward, your lips brushed over his for a moment before he fully kissed you. You melted into it, your arms pulling him closer as he pulled you in by the hips. You could vaguely hear the others cheering but you heard Jake loud and clear.

"Fucking finally!" Jake cheered and you laughed against Bradley's lips before pulling away. He chased your lips as pulled backward and you smiled at him. His eyes were still closed and he was continuously leaning in for another kiss, one that you indulged him in.

"I love you," you mumbled against his lips, breathless from the kisses. "I have for a while," you added as he gave you a love filled look.

"I love you, so much," he told you, his eye shining at you. "I have been since you tapped me out," he admitted and you laughed.

"Yo, lovebirds! You coming to the Hard Deck?" Jake called over and Bradley gently pulled you to his side.

"Nope, I've gotta take my girl to bed," he announced as you covered your face from embarrassment.

"That's a hell of a welcome home," Jake laughed as he saw your embarrassed look.

"Have fun at the Hard Deck!" You called as Bradley walked off with you tucked under his arm.

"Have fun in bed!" Natasha teased you.

➽──────────────❥

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[fandomtrela]

This was so heartwarming 💜

Devoted - bucky barnes x f!reader

Husband! Bucky Barnes can’t take his eyes or his hands off of you. He has to make the biggest effort around the kids, and honestly, it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of.

A/N: Growing up with parents who you've never seen kissing, hugging, or saying "love you" to each other, yeah, it does something to you. I recommend you listen to like real people do while reading.

warnings: domestic fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, bucky being a dream husband, vulnerable talk, parental PDA and kids being grossed out (but funny), so so so wholesome.

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minors dni with this story or blog. you're responsible for what you do. do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed (and cried) writing this!

You grew up in a house where love was... quiet. If it was there at all, it never spoke. No kisses over coffee. No lingering glances. No hands held on road trips. “I love you” was said with the same flat tone as “dinner’s ready.” It taught you that love was restraint. Conditional. Measured.

No one yelled, but no one kissed. No one fought, but no one held hands. “I love you” was something you overheard in movies — not around the dinner table.

You grew up unsure if your parents loved each other, or just… merely existed beside one another. Tolerated each other. Did they love each other? You still don’t know. Maybe they didn’t, and maybe that’s what scared you the most.

Because it made you wonder if that was all love ever was.

And then you met Bucky Barnes.

And he rewrote everything.

When Bucky Barnes came into your life, it felt like getting hit with sunlight after decades in the dark.

He's unapologetically soft for you. Hands always reaching—brushing your hair back, pulling you close, squeezing your hip as he walks by. Your kids are so over it.

“Do you have to do that now?” your oldest groans as Bucky kisses your cheek in the middle of the grocery store. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Your mom’s hot.” You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm. Every single time.

It’s the little things Bucky does that undo you.

Like when you're driving the kids to school, and he insists on holding your hand — even when you're the one behind the wheel. His fingers slide between yours easily, resting on your thigh, warm and grounding. His thumb draws lazy circles against your skin as you maneuver turns, one hand on the wheel, one hand in his.

“You know this is wildly impractical,” you tease, eyes flicking over to him.

He grins, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, voice low and smug. “Don’t care. I gotta hold my girl.” “Can you not be in love for five minutes?” your son groans.

You and Bucky just laugh. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like some old-timey gentleman who also happens to be a menace. And still doesn’t let go.

Bucky, who hugs you from behind while you’re cooking and whispers in your ear like a menace "Skip dinner, let’s order in and make out on the couch."

Your daughter and son groan loudly from the couch, “OH MY GOD.” “I’m gonna pour bleach in my eyes!” Bucky laughs, holding you tighter with his metal arm snug around your waist, “Love you too, buddy.”

He kisses you while you're folding laundry. He dances with you in the kitchen just because the song is good. Tells you he loves you like it’s as natural as breathing — because for him, it is.

And yeah, sometimes he says dumb things like,

"Bucky, why is the car so hot?" He throws you a wink. “Cause you got in it.” A chorus of “Daaaaaad!” erupts from the backseat.

“Oh my god.” Your son gags. “I’m gonna be ill.” Bucky glances at them through the mirror, unfazed. “Good. Builds immunity.”

But under all the dramatics, they smile when they think you’re not looking. They giggle when he slow dances with you in the kitchen, or calls you doll like it’s sacred. They see it. They know it’s real. They know it’s safe.

You didn’t grow up with love like this — but you’re raising them with it. And that matters.

That night, after the kids are asleep and the house is finally quiet, you curl up beside him on the bed, wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else. The air is warm and soft-lit, and you’re sunk so deep into the quiet you almost don’t want to break it.

But you do.

“Can I tell you something kind of dumb?” you murmur.

“Doll, you could talk nonsense for hours and I’d still nod along like it’s gospel.”

You laugh, but it fades. “Sometimes I still wait for it to stop.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Stop?”

You bite your lip. “I grew up thinking love didn't exist or wasn't meant to be shown. That it had to be quiet. Conditional. Measured. So sometimes I still catch myself waiting for the moment it… ends. That you leave. That it all disappears.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and touches your cheek like he’s holding something fragile and precious. Because he is.

“Doll… whoever taught you that love had to be small, they were so wrong. I need to love you like this. Big. Loud. Always. I need to hold your hand while we’re driving and kiss your neck while you're stirring the pasta.” He swallows hard. “I want to love you in a way you never have to question. Ever.”

Tears prick your eyes, and he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and your mouth.

You kiss him like you’re trying to press every word you haven’t said yet into his mouth. And he lets you—hands on your waist, grounding you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish if he lets go.

When you finally pull back, just far enough to breathe, he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the damn sky.

“I think about it a lot,” he says softly, voice rough, “how lucky I got.”

You blink, heart thudding. “Bucky…”

“No, listen.” He brushes your hair back, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “After everything I’ve seen—everything I’ve done—I didn’t think I’d get this. I thought my story ended in blood and silence. And then there you were. Warm, loud, bossy as hell—loving me without flinching.”

You shake your head, tears building. “You don’t have to thank me—”

“I do.” His voice breaks. “I have to thank you every damn day. For seeing me when I couldn’t. For staying when it was hard. For giving me this life. The kids. You. All of it.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just kiss him again, slow and deep, a promise pressed into skin.

And as his hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, you think— Yeah. You got lucky too.

You pull back eventually, breathless, heart full. And then you rise to your feet.

He looks up, dazed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

You smirk, already halfway to the hallway. “Gotta make sure the door’s locked,” you call over your shoulder. “We don’t want to traumatize them.”

Bucky groans, laughing, throwing himself back against the pillows. “You’re killin’ me.”

“And I’ll bring you back to life, Barnes.” You wink, hovering over him, straddling his waist as his hands slide up, thumbs rubbing slow, hiking closer to the hem of your shirt.

You smirk, leaning over him, ready to take your place on top — but before you can, his hands slide around your waist. In one smooth motion, he flips you over, pinning you gently beneath him.

“Not so fast, doll,” he murmurs, grinning as he settles between your legs. “You always think you’re in charge.”

You arch a brow, breath hitching. “And you love it.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dark and soft all at once. He leans down, brushing your hair back to kiss your neck — slow and deep, with a bite that makes you shiver.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

You exhale a laugh, heart skipping. “You always wanna take care of me.”

He smiles against your skin, lips trailing lower, worship in every movement.

“Damn right I do.”

Because loving you isn’t a duty. It’s instinct. It’s devotion.

I am a mix of emotions! 🥹💕😫🤧 I really enjoyed writing husband! Bucky and I will definitely do it again!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, feel free to leave your opinion!

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged as they help this story grow! ✨✨✨

[fandomtrela]

This was smutty and sweet,perfect combination ❤️❤️🥰🥰

Feels Like Home

Summary: It all started with a care package. What began as a few thoughtful letters quickly unraveled into something deeper between two friends.

Warnings: Pining, Masturbation (male), Nudity, Consensual Intercourse, Protected Sex (Condom use), Girl on top, P in V sex. 

Word Count: 6,687

Jake’s bunk was quiet when he stepped in, the kind of still that only came after a sixteen-hour day. It had been filled with flight drills, debriefs, and a sun that wouldn’t quit. He dropped his duffel by the door and rolled his shoulders, sweat clinging to the back of his neck. 

He didn’t notice the package until he turned toward his bed.

It was there on the thin Navy standard issue blanket. Just brown cardboard and a label slapped on it. The corners a little smushed in from the journey to get to him. It was nothing fancy. But the handwriting on the front was unmistakable. He’d know it anywhere. Curvy letters, a little rushed but still neat. Her name in the return address.

He smiled before he even touched it.

Jake sat down on the edge of the bunk and pulled the box into his lap. It smelled faintly of something sweet. Vanilla, maybe. Or lavender. It was soft, barely there, but it was still there. 

The tape came off easily. She always used too much. She’d do a layer then worry if it would hold so would add two or three more sloppy layers on top. 

He opened the flaps and was met with a folded sweatshirt on top. It was his sweatshirt. Faded gray, soft as hell, worn down by years of use. One from his basic training days years ago. He’d left it at her place back in the spring when he’d visited home for a long weekend. She’d told him she was keeping it hostage and never giving it back. Apparently, she’d finally given in to his requests for it back.

He lifted it to his face and breathed in.

It didn’t smell like his cologne anymore. It smelled like her detergent. That comforting, clean scent that reminded him of nights on her couch watching bad movies, of her laundry basket always overflowing in the corner of her room cause she hated folding, of her curling up beside him in pajamas while she made fun of whatever he picked on Netflix. And under all of that, barely noticeable unless you were looking, was her perfume. That soft floral warmth that always clung to her skin and hair. Faint, but there.

Jake’s throat tightened.

He set the sweatshirt aside and dug deeper.

Snacks. His favorites. Sour gummies, barbecue flavored sunflower seeds, and the off brand licorice she used to buy in bulk just because he’d mentioned once that he liked it. There was a little plastic container of trail mix she definitely made herself. His kind. No raisins, but heavy on the M&Ms. She’d taped a note to the lid in blue ink.

This mix is 80% sweet, 10% salt, and 10% health. Just like you.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head, fingers brushing over the handwriting. It was so like her, casual and playful, the kind of teasing that came easy after years of knowing each other inside out.

There were more notes scattered through the box.

One taped to a pack of gum: So your breath doesn’t kill anyone in the cockpit.

Another tucked inside a second bag of trail mix: You’re welcome for the peanuts. Even though they’re gross.

He kept reading as he picked up each one. Every one made his smile stretch wider, softer.

She didn’t have to do any of this. But that was her. Always going out of her way. Always remembering the little things.

At the very bottom of the box was a sealed envelope with his name on it.

No teasing note. Just Jake written in that same handwriting. He turned it over in his hand before carefully tearing it open.

The letter was shortz, just a few lines, but it hit him harder than anything else in the box.

I figured you might be needing a piece of home. So here’s your hoodie, your snacks, and a little chaos in paper form (that’s me). I know things are tough right now and I wish I could do more than send you a box, but I hope this helps even a little.

Don’t forget to sleep.

Don’t forget that you’re loved.

Text me when you get this.

He folded the letter slowly, and tucked it into the inside pocket of the hoodie like it belonged there.

Jake leaned back against the wall, hoodie in his lap, the scent of her still clinging to the air around him. His fingers ran over the edge of one of the pictures she’d included. Mostly her making funny faces, her and their friends at a bonfire, a beach trip from spring break. 

He hadn’t even gotten to the last one yet. The one tucked in the back. The one that would hit him in an entirely different way.

But for now, he let himself sit in this moment. Warmth in his chest. Bittersweet, comforting, familiar.

She was his best friend. She always had been.

And God help him, she was everything he wanted and nothing he was allowed to touch.

Then he noticed the last one.

It was her on the beach. Alone this time. Standing in the sun, wearing that tiny little bikini she used to joke about but never actually wore when he was around. She was tan and golden, hair a little windblown, and blowing a kiss to the camera. Lips pursed. Hip cocked. Chest out. And the look in her eyes…

Fuck.

Jake swallowed hard, eyes stuck to the photo like it might burn if he looked too long.

It probably would.

He ran his thumb along the edge, then flipped it over. Scrawled on the back in blue ink were five words.

Wish you were here ;)

He should’ve laughed. Or rolled his eyes. Teased her in return. But instead, his stomach tightened.

He looked back at the photo. That bikini didn’t leave much to the imagination. And suddenly, imagination was all he had.

His hand slipped into his sweatpants before he even realized what he was doing. A slow, almost subconscious motion. His fingers grazing the waistband, eyes still fixed on her body in the picture. She was dripping wet, droplets on her skin catching the sun, glistening in places that made his pulse throb in his throat. His cock stirred beneath the fabric, thickening with every slow breath.

Jake closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow. The hoodie was bunched up against his chest, and without thinking, he pulled it higher, buried his nose in the fabric.

That scent again.

God, she was everywhere. His mind. His nose. His fucking dreams. He was so gone for her. And she was gone for that stupid guy she had been dating that he was sure was sleeping with girls behind her back.

The tension in his body deepened as he pressed the heel of his palm against his length, just enough to feel the ache sharpen. His fingers flexed, wrapped around himself through the thin cotton of his boxers. He was already half hard and only getting worse. Or better. Depending on how much guilt he was willing to live with when this was over.

She has a boyfriend, his brain reminded him.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

But his imagination didn’t care.

The sand is hot beneath his feet, but the breeze is cooler. It’s salty and soft as it rolls in off the Gulf. She’s standing just a few feet away, dripping wet from the ocean, water beading on her skin. That bikini clings to every curve, leaves nothing to mystery.

She walks toward him slowly, deliberately. Hips swaying. That same flirty smile playing on her lips.

“Miss me, Hangman?” she teases, voice low and warm, like a summer night.

Jake swallows hard and reaches for her waist. She steps in between his knees, still damp, water dripping down her legs. She straddles his thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands on his shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re trouble,” he mutters.

She grins. “You like trouble.”

Her hands slide down his chest. Her fingers toy with the chain around his neck. She leans in, lips brushing his jaw, and every inch of him sparks alive.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about this,” she whispers.

Jake groans, hands digging into the back of her thighs. “Since the damn day I met you.”

Her mouth crashes into his. Hot, urgent, desperate. Her body rocks against his, wet heat grinding into his lap. He groans again, this time into her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Then stop pretending you don’t want me.”

Jake’s hand is working inside his sweatpants now, fingers wrapped tight around his cock. He’s leaking already, precum slicking his palm. His jaw clenches as he thrusts up into his grip, slow and shallow, trying not to lose control too fast.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, biting it off like a sin.

The photo lies beside him. That kiss she blew frozen in time, her lips parted just enough to make him imagine them wrapped around something else.

He lets out a low, strangled sound and fucks into his hand harder. Sweat beads at his temples. The hoodie is still tucked under his chin, still thick with her scent. He breathes her scent in like oxygen. Like he needs her to survive.

She’s on top of him, riding him slow and dirty, hair sticking to her skin. His hands are gripping her hips, guiding her movements. His fingers just barely grazing the tiny strings. One little pull is all it would take to have her bare right now. Every bounce of her body sends heat coiling low in his belly.

She moans his name, and it tears right through him.

Her fingers clutch his tags again and she pulls him up to her.  She leans down, pressing her forehead to his. “You’re all I think about.”

“You’re taken,” he groans, voice cracking.

“I don’t want him,” she whispers. “I want you.”

Her nails dig into his chest. Her rhythm quickens. His hips meet hers. She throws her head back, crying out as he feels her clench around him.

And he’s gone.

Jake’s thighs tense, toes curling. He strokes himself faster now, more erratic, on the edge. His back arches, hoodie crushed against his chest, the scent of her flooding his lungs.

Her name slips out before he can stop it. He comes with a shudder and a growl, biting down on his lip hard enough to hurt. Warmth spills over his hand, thick and hot, and he rides the wave until it leaves him raw.

Silence crashes into the room like a slap.

Jake lies still, chest heaving, eyes glazed. The photo is still there. So is the guilt.

✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️

The airport was quiet for once. Jake’s boots hit the tile floor with a steady rhythm as he scanned the space. And then he saw her. Tank top. Short shorts. A messy ponytail like she’d barely bothered to try, but somehow she looked better than half the girls who’d spent hours getting ready. 

Jake blinked once, twice, forcing himself to breathe through the punch of heat that rolled through him. She waved when she spotted him, that big easy smile on her face that made something shift in his chest.

He missed her. More than he would let himself think about while he was over there. He walked toward her, duffel slung over one shoulder, posture relaxed even though every muscle in him felt tight.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, stepping forward.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled her into a hug. Not a half assed one either. His arms wrapped fully around her, tucking her into him like she belonged there. She smelled like coconut and sunshine, and he had to grit his teeth to keep his hands from wandering.

“Damn, it’s good to see you,” he murmured, voice a little rough.

“You too,” she said softly, pulling back a little, but not far.

Her eyes studied him, and for a second, he let himself get lost in the moment. Let himself pretend that she was his. That he could kiss her, whisper stupid things in her ear, carry her out of here like every fantasy he’d had in the desert.

Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “You, uh…forget your pants this morning?”

She grinned, not missing a beat. “Nah. Figured the shorts would be a warm welcome.”

He shook his head with a small laugh, swallowing down every thought he didn’t have the right to say. “Well, consider me welcomed.”

With every ounce of restraint in his body, Jake kept it light. Kept it friendly. Because she wasn’t his. No matter how bad he wanted her to be.

The ride back from the airport was full of all the usual catch up chatter. How the flight was, how good it felt to be on solid U.S. ground again, how Jake didn’t realize how much he’d missed real air conditioning until he got into her car.

She had the windows cracked, music low, the scent of her perfume lingering faintly in the car. There was something he couldn’t quite name that he felt every time she laughed or tucked her hair behind her ear in that nervous way she always seemed to.

“You hungry?” She asked as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex.

Jake turned his head, smirking. “Starving. You offering to feed me?”

She cut the engine and grabbed her bag. “You’re staying with me, remember? It’s my job to make sure you don’t live off gas station burritos and protein bars.”

“I happen to like gas station burritos,” he argued half heartedly, following her up the steps.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, and it all seemed to hit him like a wall. The entire space felt like her. It felt familiar and warm. There was a scent in the air. Something floral layered over the faint smell of cleaning products. Knowing her she had probably done some cleaning before she came to pick him up.

Her place looked a little different from last time. It felt brighter. There were more plants, and more pillows. Just more things that seemed like she had picked them versus the bachelor pad vibe their last place had to it.

“Go sit,” she told him, toeing off her sneakers. “I’m making dinner.”

Jake didn’t argue. He sank into the couch, dropping his duffel by the door. His whole body relaxed into the cushions like it hadn’t in months. He watched her move into the kitchen, confident and barefoot, digging through the fridge with practiced ease.

He knew exactly what she was making the moment he saw the ingredients come out.

“You’re doing the garlic chicken?” he asked, lifting a brow.

She turned, shooting him a grin over her shoulder. “I remember your favorites, don’t I?”

God. She really did. It made something twist low in his stomach, something he wasn’t sure he had the right to feel.

Her hair was pulled up, tank top riding just a little higher every time she reached for something in the cabinet. He tried not to stare. But Jesus. She was effortlessly sexy, and she didn’t even know it. That was the worst part.

He let his head fall back against the couch, watching her through half lidded eyes. The sound of the pan sizzling, the soft hum of her singing along with the music. It was the kind of thing that should’ve bored him. Domestic. Mundane. But not with her. With her, it felt like something he could fall into and never want to leave.

“You’re staring,” she said without turning around.

“I’m not,” he lied.

She glanced back at him, smirking. “You are.”

Jake shrugged, lazy and unbothered, even as his pulse ticked up a beat. “Just appreciating the view.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

He exhaled slowly, gaze trailing from her bare legs to the way her hips swayed when she moved. The way she hummed to herself, a little off key but familiar. This was dangerous. Her, in her kitchen, cooking for him like she’d done it a hundred times before.

He’d been with plenty of girls. Girls who’d tried to be impressive, seductive, and unforgettable. But none of them had ever made him feel like this, like he wanted to come home to them. Like he wanted to sit on this same damn couch for the next forty years, watching her cook in a tank top and laugh at her own bad singing.

Wifing her up. Jesus. Who even thought like that? But the thought came anyway, loud and clear, and he didn’t bother trying to shove it away.

Jake leaned forward on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. He needed to clear his damn head. Shake off the image of her in a sundress, barefoot in this kitchen, laughing at something he said like it was the only sound that ever mattered. Shake off the thought of her being his.

She’s not yours, he reminded himself. She never was.

Still, something gnawed at him.

His brows drew together as he looked around again, slower this time. Not just at her, but at the place itself. The couch was new. Lighter color than the black one she used to have. Throw pillows with tassels sat beside him. The rug wasn’t the one he remembered. The walls were the same soft white, but...they were bare. No photos on the side table. No stupid framed pictures of her and that guy doing pumpkin patch crap.

His mouth opened before he could second-guess it. “Hey...this isn’t your old place, is it?”

She stilled at the stove.

He sat up straighter. “Did you move?”

She didn’t look at him right away. “Yeah.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached for a plate, turned the burner off, and started plating the food like nothing was wrong. But he saw that her shoulders were just a little too tight, her movements just a little too careful.

He stood up slowly. “Hey.”

Still, she didn’t turn around.

He moved a little closer. “You guys break up?”

That made her glance over her shoulder. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” he repeated quietly. “You wanna give me the unfiltered version?”

She gave a breath of a laugh. “He kicked me out.”

Jake’s stomach clenched.

She shrugged like it didn’t matter, even as her voice went quieter. “Turns out I wasn’t the only one he loved. There were two others. Maybe more. Guess I was just one of the rotating favorites.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “Jesus.”

She finally turned to face him, setting the plate on the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not like I was planning on marrying the guy. I should’ve seen it coming, honestly. He was always looking at his phone, always had some excuse when I wanted to do anything real.”

Her voice cracked on the word real, and it gutted him.

Jake didn’t think. He just moved. Closed the space between them and pulled her into his arms before she could wave it off or fake another smile. She was stiff for a half second, then melted against him, forehead to his chest.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I should’ve been here.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she whispered.

“Still.”

Her fingers curled lightly into his shirt, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world stilled. His guilt tangled with something else—hope, maybe. A thread of it winding through his ribs. Hope that maybe he hadn’t missed his shot entirely. That maybe this time, the guy who knew how to love her right wouldn’t be too late.

But he didn’t let that hope lead. Not now. Right now, she didn’t need a guy with a crush. She needed a friend. A safe place to land.

So he didn’t kiss her. Didn’t tell her she deserved so much better. Didn’t say I could be that guy.

Instead, he smoothed his hand up and down her back and let her stay in his arms for as long as she needed.

When she pulled away, her eyes were glassy but dry.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just embarrassed about the whole thing, mostly.”

“You don’t have to be.”

She gave a small smile. “Thanks for saying that.”

“Anytime.”

They stood there for another beat before she sniffed and nudged his arm. “Come on, food’s getting cold.”

Jake followed her back to the counter, the scent of garlic chicken thick in the air, and something else lingering between them now. Something heavier, something real.

He didn’t know what it would become. Didn’t need to. All he knew was that whatever she needed right now, he was going to be it.

Even if it meant ignoring the part of him that wanted so much more.

✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️ ✈️

Jake leaned back into the couch, a plate of food balanced on his thigh and a satisfied grin stretching across his face. “Okay, I’m not even gonna pretend this isn’t the best damn chicken I’ve had in years.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, settling in beside him with her own plate. “You’re just saying that because I fed you like a stray dog.”

“I mean, if this is what I get I will definitely be hanging around here a lot more often like a stray.”

She laughed, nudging his knee with hers. They were sitting close—closer than maybe they should’ve been—but neither of them moved. It was easy, falling into old rhythms. Joking. Eating. Pretending the world hadn’t tilted just a little when she’d broken down in his arms a half hour ago.

They finished eating with casual banter and low humming music playing in the background. When their plates were empty, she took them to the kitchen while Jake kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“Movie time,” she called over her shoulder. “Your pick.”

Jake glanced at the TV. “How about something dumb and romantic so I can make fun of it the whole time?”

“You mean so you can secretly enjoy it and pretend to hate it?”

He shot her a grin. “Don’t blow my cover, sweetheart.”

She tossed a throw pillow at him on her way back to the couch, then queued up a rom com. He didn’t recognize the title, but within five minutes, he knew exactly what kind of movie it was. Sappy as hell. Cute guy, quirky girl, meet cute in a bookstore. Jake was already counting the minutes to the rain-soaked kiss.

It was halfway through the movie when the male lead pulled the cheesiest move Jake had ever seen. The guy fake-yawned, stretched his arms wide, then oh-so-subtly dropped one around the girl’s shoulders.

Jake snorted. “Unbelievable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right? That would never work. No girl falls for that middle school arm stretch move.”

Jake turned his head slowly to look at her, his mouth twitching with mischief. “You sure about that?”

She gave him a look. “Positive.”

Without a word, he exaggerated a dramatic yawn, stretched his arms overhead, then ever so slowly draped one along the back of the couch behind her.

She burst out laughing. “Wow. Really? That’s your move?”

“I’m just saying, you’d never see it coming.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping in mock seriousness. “One minute you’re judging a movie, the next—boom. Arm’s around you. You’re swooning.”

She laughed again, but this time it faltered just a little when their eyes met.

He wasn’t trying to be serious. Not really. But suddenly, it was serious.

His arm was still on the back of the couch, but now his body was angled toward her. Her smile faded, not in a bad way. More like her brain caught up to her heart and suddenly realized how close he was. How quiet the room had gone. How the glow from the TV danced across the lines of his face.

And then her eyes flicked to his lips.

His stomach flipped. Just a little.

But then she blinked and sat up straighter, a quick, small shift, like she’d just remembered something she wasn’t supposed to forget.

She scooted forward, grabbing the blanket off the armrest and wrapping it around herself as if it could shield her from whatever had just cracked open between them.

Jake let his arm fall back to his side, cleared his throat, and leaned into the cushions. “Told you it was a killer move,” he said lightly.

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “You’re such a dork.”

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The movie played on, but Jake wasn’t watching it anymore. He was staring straight ahead, hands folded in his lap, and heart knocking hard against his ribs.

Because for one second he swore she’d been about to kiss him back.

Half an hour later the credits rolled and neither of them moved. The room felt a little too still, a little too quiet. Finally, she stretched and stood, gathering their plates and heading into the kitchen.

Jake sat there for a second longer, grounding himself. The moment on the couch had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. That almost kiss, that flicker of heat—it hadn’t been nothing. And the worst part was, it didn’t feel one sided.

He got up and followed her into the kitchen, finding her at the sink already running water.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You doing dishes? That might be a first.”

“Hey, I can be domestic. I’m great at domestic shit,” he said, grabbing a towel and nudging her with his hip. “Besides, you fed me. Least I can do is help clean up.”

She chuckled and passed him a rinsed plate. “Dry that, Mr. Domestic.”

They fell into an easy rhythm—she washed, he dried. Their elbows bumped now and then, and the warmth between them hadn’t cooled since the couch. If anything, the close quarters only stoked it.

She reached for the spray attachment on the faucet, turning it toward a stubborn pan. “This thing’s been acting up lately—”

Before she could finish, the sprayer popped loose from the hose with a sharp clack, and a high pressure jet of cold water shot out, drenching her straight in the chest.

“Shit!” she gasped, jumping back.

Jake doubled over laughing as the water ricocheted off the sink and hit him square in the side. “Oh my God your sink just tried to murder us.”

She scrambled to shut off the faucet, her tank top soaked and clinging to her like a second skin. “I told you it was broken!”

Water dripped off her chin and eyelashes. Jake grabbed a dish towel and offered it, but neither of them moved for a beat. Something shifted. The humor still hovered in the air, but the laughter slowed as Jake’s gaze dipped.

Her cream colored tank top was soaked through, nearly transparent now, hugging every single curve. He could see the pale pink of her bra beneath it. Lacy. Delicate. And not something he should be thinking about his best friend in.

It was the same color as the bikini in those photos.

His breath caught.

Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric, and Jake had to physically force his eyes upward, past the slope of her chest to her flushed face. She was looking at him, frozen, her chest rising and falling a little too fast.

His mouth went dry. He swallowed, hard.

Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers skimmed her skin, lingering just long enough to make her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You had a little…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn't need to. Her eyes opened, and for a beat, they just stared at each other. The air between them crackled, thick and buzzing with everything they weren’t saying.

Jake’s hand hovered at the side of her face, thumb brushing the soft skin beneath her cheekbone. He was close enough to kiss her. Close enough to want to.

Jake didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He just leaned in and kissed her. And holy shit. Fireworks. Butterflies. That ridiculous spark people always talked about but he’d never really believed in…he got it now. It was all there. Every cliché slammed into him like a freight train as her mouth moved with his, hungry and hot and aching with years of almosts and not yets.

She kissed him like she’d been waiting for it. Like she was done waiting.

His hands slid down, fingers brushing the damp hem of her tank top. He felt her shiver not from the cold, but from him. From his touch. From what this was about to become.

She lifted her arms wordlessly, and he peeled the soaked shirt off her. The pink bra underneath was still damp. Still see through. And still driving him absolutely insane.

His palms skimmed her bare waist, up her ribs, then down again, reacquainting himself with every inch of skin he didn’t know he’d memorized. She reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head, her hands bold now, tracing the lines of muscle like she had every right to.

Jake groaned low in his throat. He’d imagined this. Dreamed about it. But this was better.

He bent down and hooked his arms behind her thighs, lifting her effortlessly and setting her on the counter. She gasped, laughing softly into his mouth, and it was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

He stepped between her legs and kissed her again, deeper this time, more need than finesse. His hands gripped her hips as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, anchoring him to the one place he suddenly never wanted to leave.

His mouth left hers, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. He sucked gently at the curve where her shoulder met her throat, then bit, just enough to make her moan.

“Jake,” she breathed, head falling back.

His cock jerked hard in his jeans at the sound of his name on her lips like that. A moan and a prayer wrapped in one breath.

He reached behind her, fingers working the clasp of her bra. It gave with a soft snap, and he slid the straps off her shoulders, exposing her completely.

She didn’t hide. Didn’t flinch. She just looked at him, eyes heavy, mouth parted, and it hit him again just how goddamn beautiful she was.

Jake cupped one breast, kneading gently, as his mouth closed over the other. She whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, like she couldn’t get enough. Like she didn’t want him to stop.

And he wouldn’t. Not now. Not until he wrung every single sound out of her.

Jake’s mouth was still on her skin when his hands drifted lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and popped the button in one smooth motion.

Before she could process what was happening, he grinned, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Jake!” she squealed, laughing and kicking gently against his chest. “Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, smug as hell, his hand braced firmly against the back of her bare thighs. “You’re already half undressed. Might as well commit.”

“You’re such a caveman—”

Smack.

She jolted as his palm landed squarely on her ass. Not hard, but not soft either. A test. A question. A tease. She sucked in a breath, biting back the sound that tried to escape her throat.

Jake heard the sharp inhale, felt the way her body went still for half a second, and made a mental note. He was going to explore that more. Later. Slowly. Thoroughly.

But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to take his time. Tonight he wanted to make love to her.

He kicked open her bedroom door and strode in, dropping her gently onto the bed. She bounced slightly, hair splayed around her face, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

Jake wasted no time. He tugged her shorts down, taking her underwear with them in one slow motion. She lifted her hips to help, completely unashamed, completely his in this moment.

His gaze dragged over her, hungry and reverent all at once.

“Jesus,” he muttered, voice rough.

He slid a hand between her thighs, fingers parting her gently before easing one inside.

She moaned softly, head tipping back. He added a second finger, curling just right, just enough to make her gasp.

“You’re already soaked,” he said, voice low and ragged.

“Maybe,” she breathed, meeting his eyes with a heat that nearly undid him.

His cock twitched hard in his jeans. He needed to be inside her. Now.

Jake pulled back just long enough to unbuckle his belt, the metallic clink loud in the quiet room. He popped the button on his jeans and shoved them down with his boxers in one rough motion, his cock springing free, thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.

Her eyes dropped, widening slightly, and he swore he saw her throat bob with a swallow.

He grinned. “You okay, darlin’?”

She nodded slowly, eyes hot. “Better than okay.”

Jake sat back on the bed, legs spread, his hands settling at her waist as he gently guided her forward.

She followed his lead, climbing into his lap, but the moment she realized what he was asking of her, she hesitated. Her body stilled, hands lightly braced on his chest, eyes searching his.

He noticed instantly. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft, the kind of tone he used when things mattered. “What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip, a blush rising in her cheeks. “I…I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Jake blinked. For some reason, that admission made his chest ache. Not because she was nervous, but because she trusted him enough to say it out loud.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, tilting her face to look at him. “You can’t do it wrong, baby.”

It slipped out before he could stop it. Baby. He’d never called her that before. But now? It fit.

The pink on her cheeks deepened, but she nodded slowly.

When he pulled her closer again, she didn’t resist. She rose up onto her knees, bracing herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching between them to guide him.

Jake sucked in a breath as the head of his cock brushed against her entrance, hot and slick and perfect.

“Easy,” he murmured, helping her. “Take your time.”

She started to lower herself onto him, inch by inch. His grip tightened at her waist, a low groan rumbling from his throat.

Fuck.

The heat, the pressure, the way her body wrapped around him—tight and so damn wet—it was overwhelming.

When she finally sank all the way down, both of them stilled. Her fingers dug lightly into his shoulders, and she looked at him like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to move.

Jake opened his eyes and saw the hesitation on her face. Her lashes lowered as she glanced down at their bodies, then back up to his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, softer this time.

She let out a breath. “I still…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Jake smiled, his thumb brushing her hip. “Whatever feels good.”

She bit her lip again, nodded once, then slowly lifted herself off him an inch or two, and sank back down.

Jake’s head dropped back against the headboard, a curse escaping under his breath.

“Like that?” she asked, shy and unsure.

He let out a huff of laughter, voice rough with disbelief. “Jesus, yes. That’s perfect.”

She did it again, a little more confident this time. The slow drag of her around him was insane. It was like he could feel every inch, every pulse, every shift.

She moved again. And again. His hands gripped her hips, but he let her take the lead.

The room filled with soft breaths, stifled moans, the quiet creak of the bed beneath them.

She found a rhythm, her body rolling with his in slow, deep strokes, and Jake was losing it.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders. Her head tilted back slightly, chest rising and falling fast.

And then it hit him. Too fast. Too much.

His hands jerked at her hips, holding her down as his body went rigid beneath her.

He grunted, breath breaking, as he spilled into the condom.

Her eyes widened. “Did you just—?”

Jake’s chest heaved. His head fell back again, almost like he couldn’t believe it himself. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “Yeah, I—fuck.”

She blinked, still flushed and catching her breath, but then the smallest smile tugged at her lips. “That fast?”

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Don’t make it worse.”

“I wasn’t—”

He peeked at her through his fingers and gave a breathless laugh. “You’re outta your damn mind if you think you don’t know what you’re doing. You just broke me.”

She giggled then—actually giggled—and leaned in to kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. Honest. And Jake…couldn’t stop smiling into it.

There they were, bare skin pressed together, breath still uneven, her cheeks flushed pink, and he couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he murmured against her lips.

“I’m not,” she said, clearly lying as she tried to stifle another giggle. “It’s just…your face. You looked like you short circuited.”

“I did,” Jake said, deadpan. “You blue screened me.”

That made her laugh harder, and she buried her face in his neck. “Oh my God.”

He let his head fall back against the pillow, arms sliding around her waist to hold her close. “Glad you find this hilarious.”

“You came so fast, Jake.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he admitted, his chest shaking with a soft laugh. “You feel like heaven, and then you started moving like that? I was doomed.”

She kissed the side of his jaw, still grinning. “Guess I do know what I’m doing after all.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. Her eyes were bright, mouth still curved in amusement, but there was something soft in her expression too. Like she hadn’t expected to enjoy this as much as she did. 

Jake smoothed a hand along her back, his voice dropping a little. “I meant it, you know. You can’t do it wrong. Especially not when you’re laughing with me like this.”

Her smile faltered just slightly—just enough for her to press another kiss to his lips, slower this time. “I’ve never…laughed like this during. Not like this.”

He pulled her a little closer. “Good. Let’s make it a habit.”

She snorted. “You’re gonna start cracking jokes every time I take my shirt off, huh?”

Jake smirked. “Only if you want me to. I have a whole set ready to go.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a hand over her hip. “But you’re still sittin’ here naked on top of me, so what does that say about you?”

She leaned in until her nose brushed his. “That I might be a little ridiculous too.”

Jake kissed her again—slow and deliberate, with just a hint of promise.And when they finally curled up under the covers, the afterglow laced with warmth and laughter instead of awkwardness, Jake couldn’t help but think—This. This right here. This is what I didn’t know I needed.

[fandomtrela]

This kind of fluff and smut hits right in the sweet spot 🤤🤤🤤

not a little (just a lot) • b.f.

pairing: bob floyd x wife!reader

synopsis: bob’s a little sore after his two hundred push-ups.

content: nsfw, 18+ minors dni, handjob, pain kink, cum feeding, mentions of piv sex

notes: based on this thought! hope u enjoy i am gonna think about this while i try to sleep

word count: 1.8k

18+ blog, minors dni

bob comes home exhausted. 

a bone-deep kind of tired that turns his limbs into lead. usually you’d hear him humming under his breath as he kicks off those heavy military-issue boots. 

today there’s a pause that stretches on after the click of the lock. you venture out of the bedroom, finding bob stood by the door, head hung low and shoulders tense. 

he hears you before you appear, bare feet padding down the hall. sees you standing there, all soft and with your arms open—he can’t help but melt into your embrace. crosses over to you in three big strides, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging.

he shoves his face into your neck, inhales deep the smell of you—a heady mix of perfume, your conditioner and his laundry detergent. a relieved groan reverberates within him, relaxing at the scent of you like one of pavlov’s dogs. 

your hands run up and down his back gently, voice soft and quiet when you ask, “bad day?”

bob nods, still buried in your neck. you can feel the wet heat of his breath when he grumbles. it comes out all muffled but you can make out something that sounds like hangman and push-ups.

his glasses click when you gently guide him to face you, a soft pull with your fingers in his hair. 

his expression nearly makes you crack—pink lips pouted and glasses crooked with his brows furrowed  from frustration. but his blue eyes look so tired behind his lenses, you bite your lip to hold back the soft giggle at this top gun fighter pilot pouting in your arms. 

“sounds rough, baby,” you hum sympathetically. he nods emphatically, adjusting his glasses over his nose. “how many did you have to do?”

“two hundred,” bob sighs heavily, shoulders heaving with a wince. 

at that, your jaw drops—surprised he’s still standing. a flicker of annoyance at jake, wondering what the blond could’ve done this time to rope bob into the punishment with him.

“god, bobby, that’s a lot of push-ups.” your hands slide to his front, pressing just so into his chest. the knee-jerk reaction is instantaneous. 

bob hisses, flinching under your touch as his shoulders cave on instinct. you stop just as immediately, eyes wide as you apologise profusely. 

but bob’s shaking his head, tired eyes suddenly alert as he pulls your hands back, wanting to feel your fingers splayed over his aching muscles like a balm. 

“s’okay, honey. just a little sore.”

and bless your heart—you’re too concerned for his well-being to notice how his cheeks are starting to flush and the way he wets his lips as his eyes flicker to yours. 

“d’you want a massage? that might help with the pain tomorrow.” 

bob knows by now that you would do anything to make him feel better—sees your instinctual urge to take care of him in real time. combined with how you offer it so sweetly, it has bob fighting the rush of blood south as he accepts with a small nod. 

he lets you lead him to the bedroom, watches you peel off his uniform and goes willingly when you nudge him gently to the mattress.

bob’s whole body is screaming at him to sink into the plush of the bed, but he pushes up on his elbows to watch you.

you’re flitting around the room, grabbing your lotion and shutting the blinds against the setting sun, just in case bob falls asleep. (you don’t know sleep is the farthest thing from his mind.) 

he doesn’t quite know how he manages to keep it together when you climb on top of him, knees bracketing his waist as you straddle his stomach.

his throat jumps, watching you pump the nozzle of the lotion bottle into your palm.

you’re sitting on your husband with his shirt off, so maybe you take a second or two to admire how all the training he’s been doing has filled him out—broader in the shoulders, biceps thick (running a finger down the stretch marks on the inside makes him shiver).

even then, it’s innocent in your mind as you guide him down by the shoulders. but you’re only wearing an oversized tee—one of his, from the naval academy—worn and threadbare but smelling like him. like this, bob can feel the heat of you radiating through the thin panties he only gets a peek of before he’s flat on his back. 

he can’t tell if you genuinely don’t feel him, half-chubbed and swelling in his boxers. 

bob fights like hell to keep himself in check—doesn’t want to scare you off, because he knows you’ll fret if you think he’s in pain. 

that restraint is tested, pulled taut when your slick palms press onto his pecs, spreading the lotion. you knead gently at first, gauging his reaction.

“is this okay? not too hard?” 

bob could laugh, because he absolutely is too hard, and he’s a little embarrassed about it all.  but the dull ache under his skin grows sharp with each slippery glide of your fingers, and he’s choking back a gasp. shakes his head ‘no’ as he peers up at you with those adoring eyes. 

the focused look on your face as you work out the knots almost makes him feel bad. because here you are, putting all this work into alleviating his pain and he’s getting off from it like some sort of pervert. 

but then you spread your palms further along the plane of his chest, firm at the junction under his shoulder. this time, he can’t stop the way his fully-hardened cock twitches in his boxers. 

he sees the moment you feel it. 

your fingers freeze just as they dig into the tense muscle. that jagged bolt of pain registers a split second before the broken moan claws up his throat—he’s completely helpless to it. 

you blink down curiously, and he watches back as your eyes dart between his own and your hands. understanding starts to swirl in your expression. 

“bob?” you implore, a slow, mischievous smirk growing on your lips. only a little taken aback by the quick flash of a sheepish smile and the hardness suddenly poking at your tailbone. 

“don’t stop,” bob pleads, warm palms circling around your wrists, like he’s making sure you won’t pull away, “just—keep going, it’s okay. it feels good.”

and that unlocks something in you—a part that recognises the pitch of his whine, kicking your mind into gear when it connects the dots.

your brow quirks, shifting your weight back as you reach behind. the tips of your fingers trail over the outline of him, where he’s straining against the fabric. at the same time, a palm is planted square on his chest, adding just a little more pressure. 

your smirk grows into a shit-eating grin when he bucks his hips, driving you further up his ribs. scrambling for balance, you lean heavier into him, nails digging into heated skin.

“sweetheart, you— again. fuck, need you to do that again,” bob grunts, sweat beading at his hairline as he heaves from the effort of keeping his hips still and not ripping his boxers off himself. he tries to be patient for his pretty wife taking care of him.

you know what he needs, and that he needs it now, from the way his head is thrown back, exposing the column of his throat. a wet spot grows under your hand still stroking him over his underwear. 

so you do it again, one hand moving up to his shoulder and squeezing, the same time you palm his bulge. bob lets out a wrecked groan under you, louder as you shove his waistband down enough to pull his pulsing length out. 

it slaps against your lower back, and the angle is a little awkward, so you slide down his body until you’re settled on his thighs, his leaking cock curving up his belly. 

bob watches the whole time, eyes half-lidded behind those wire-rimmed glasses, lip caught between his teeth when he sees you swallow at the sight of him. 

he’s flushed a deep red, hot and drooling pre-cum in your grip when you start to stroke him steadily. all the while your free hand roams the planes of skin spread out in front of you. 

“oh, shit—harder, baby, ‘s okay—feels so fucking good,” he praises you, and it shoots straight between your legs, sticky and hot. makes your eyes glaze over, cupping his pec as you knead at the layer of firm muscle there.

your eyes never leave his face, watching his soft features contort in pleasure as your hands alone coax him higher and higher. your thumb flicks over a nipple, pinching at the sensitive skin there. 

bob writhes under you.

“god, yes—” bob’s voice cracks, cock spitting more pre-cum when your thumb swipes over his slit at the same time. 

bob feels like he’s on fire—the sting of your nails, your palm twisting tight around his tip. his skin is alight, slicked up from your lotion, his sweat and pre-cum. 

“you gonna cum from this, bobby?” you hum, fingertips massaging the underside of his tip. “you like when it hurts?” 

he thrusts into your touch, nodding so hard he jostles his gelled hair out of place. “yeah—you’re gonna make me—‘m gonna cum so much for you, baby.”

bob pants like he’s running a marathon, thrusting erratically into your first as you focus on rolling out any remaining knots of tension you can find. 

“thankyouthankyouthankyou,” bob slurs, mouth hanging open as he lets the burn eat him alive. glasses knocked askew when he raises an arm over his face, biting down to muffle his desperate moans.

“cum for me now, and i’ll make you dinner—then you can fuck me full after, ‘kay?”

the idea of you feeding him after draining his balls and then letting him fill you up when he’s done makes something click right into place in his caveman brain. 

bob’s back arches off the mattress, thighs trembling as he cums with a hoarse shout. his cock spits rope after rope of milky white spend, all over your front.

most of it lands on your shirt, painting across the symbol of the naval academy. some of him drips down your neck and your chin. you’d leaned down at the last second, hoping to catch some on your tongue, but it smears over your cheek instead. 

bob is rendered speechless for a while, gaping at you like a fish when you lick your lips, darting out to catch a drop of his release on the corner of your mouth. 

your fingers run through the mess he’s left on your face, collecting anything not seeping into your shirt. when you raise them to his mouth, he’s already waiting—wet tongue curling over your digits as his eyes roll back with a whimper.

when his cock jumps against his thigh again, you realise dinner might have to wait. 

[fandomtrela]

This was so funny and adorable! 🥰🥰🥰

Heart Glasses ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: You meet your husband's new squadron one by one, all without them knowing who you truly were

tw: fem!reader, reader wears glasses, reader's mom's maiden name is Hearts, Bob's from Montana, suggestive, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This was purely because I've been getting more strangers complimenting my heart shaped glasses

➽──────────────❥

Robert Floyd was a private person, everyone who meets him can attest to it. But, the one thing he could never keep quiet about, was his wife. The very same wife who the Dagger Squad had never met and had never seen a photo of.

"Are we even sure baby on board even has a wife?" Jake, stupidly, asked. The others ignored him, Bob wasn't one to lie and they've all seen the ring and heard the one sided phone calls.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was Natasha that met you first, you were in the same store as her and she had spotted your glasses from farther away.

"Hi, I just wanted to tell you that I love your glasses," Natasha said as she walked up, you smiled over at her.

"Oh, thank you! My husband got them for me because my mom's maiden name is Hearts," you told her. You noticed her uniform before speaking next, "Are you Navy?"

"I am," she told you, then recited her callsign. You smiled at her, told her that was a cooler call sign, and then you two said your goodbyes before leaving. As you walked away, you realized that had to be the Phoenix your husband was back seating for.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You met Bradley next, your dad was also an enjoyer of Hawaiian shirts and his birthday was coming up. You saw a man walking around the same store you were in holding the perfect one for your father.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but where did you find that shirt?" You questioned the taller stranger.

"Oh, back there," Bradley pointed behind him snd your eyes caught sight of the shirt.

"Thank you!" You told him, racing off with a muted goodbye.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Bradley and Natasha figured out their stranger interactions had been the same person at the Hard Deck a few days later.

"I ran into the woman who asked where I found this shirt at the mall the other day," Bradley told the group. "She had these heart glasses and it was like her whole face lit up when I told her," Bradley said, he was lamenting the fact that he never asked if she was single.

"Wait," Natasha cut in. "Did she have a black purse with a butterfly attachment and y/h/c hair?" Natasha questioned. y/h/c = your hair color

"Yeah, how did you know?" Bradley questioned, his face scrunched in confusion.

"That's the woman I complimented on her glasses! She's married, her husband got her glasses for her," Natasha told Bradley, her face twisting into disgust at his earlier words of wanting to take her out.

"Damn, that's one lucky man then," Bradley mused, everyone missing the small grin growing on Bob's face. He had figured you were the one they were talking about.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Mickey was the next to meet you, he had recognized your description from the others and wanted to double check you were you. You were just walking to your car from work.

"Hi, this may sound weird but did you ask a taller man with a mustache about a Hawaiian shirt and get complimented on your glasses by a woman whose call sign is Phoenix?" Mickey rushed out before you could run away from the odd question.

"Oh, yeah, why?" You had subtly taken a step back from him.

"I'm in their squadron! They will never believe that I met you," Mickey pumped his fist in the air and you relaxed.

"Oh, well, hello," you laughed gently, your smile easy. "What do they call you?"

"Fanboy, but my name's Mickey, ma'am," he offered his hand and you shook it.

"Nice to meet you Mickey," you offered your name before walking away, you got in the car and let yourself laugh even harder. These were definitely the people from your husband's squadron.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Jake was next, he hit on you before you even looked at him.

"What's a darling lady like you doing alone?" Jake slid into your space, you were grocery shopping for breakfast while Bob slept in a bit.

"Mu husband's asleep," you told him, turning to face him.

"Wait, no way, you're the infamous y/n?" He perked up and you realized what was happening.

"Are you another from the group of people from the same squadron that I keep running into?" You questioned, a humorous smile growing on your face.

"I am, the name's Hangman," he offered his hand and you shook it.

"Well, I have no idea how many more of you there are," you lied. "But tell the others I'm excited to run into them as well," you bit him farewell while leaving, missing Jake pulling his phone out to text the Dagger Squad group.

Bagman: You'll never guess who I ran into Phoenix: Heart glasses y/n? Bagman: At the grocery store Rooster: You hit on her, didn't you? Fanboy: He most definitely did Phoenix: Did she bring up her husband? Bagman: She did Payback: I was supposed to meet her next! Coyote: I call next time

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You met Ruben next, much to Javy's dismay. You were at the gym and Ruben couldn't find his earbud case.

"Hi, sorry," Ruben automatically apologized when you slightly jumped. "I didn't mean to scare you, it's just that I was using this machine earlier and I can't find my earbud case. Have you seen one around here by chance?"

"Oh, is it blue?" You questioned, your glasses slowly falling down your face. It brought them to Ruben's attention and you saw him get excited.

"Yeah, it is, you wouldn't happen to be y/n, would you?"

"I am, are you apart of that Navy squadron?" You grabbed the blue earbud case you had seen under the machine earlier and handed it to him.

"That I am," he affirmed and you gave him a small smile. "Thanks for this," he lifted the case up just enough for you to see it.

"You're welcome,' you paused, waiting for his name.

"Payback or Ruben, ma'am," he told you and you nodded once. You two went your separate ways and as you left for the locker room, you texted your husband.

My Girl ❤️: I ran into another one of your friends My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: Who was it? My Girl ❤️: Payback, he was nice. Called me ma'am and only approached me because he lost his earbud case My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: You've got one left to meet My Girl ❤️: I know, they act like they're all meeting me. I'm meeting them My Girl ❤️: Also I'm very sweaty and it will be your problem when I get home. I'm going to be all over you My Cowboy 🤠 ❤️: I can't wait

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The last to meet you was Javy, he saw you as you walked into the hangar. You were there to pick up Bob since you had to borrow his truck while your car was in the shop, and Javy recognized your description right away.

"Holy shit, you're y/n! I'm Coyote or Javy!" He practically shouted, causing many to look over at you. You were suddenly surrounded by the entire squadron, questions flying at you faster than you could process.

Your savior came in the form of your husband, as always. His hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you to him, his hand slipping right to it's home on your waist. "Are you ok?" Bob lowly asked in your ear, you nodded with a bright smile on your face.

"Wait," Jake called out but his shock made him pause. "Your husband's baby on board?"

"Yeah, my husband's Bob," you told him, your eyes sharpening at the name Jake called him.

"How long have you known who we were?" Natasha asked.

"Since you, well, I didn't know who Bradley was until Bobby came home and told me. I'm sorry for never asking your name to properly thank you," you apologized to the man but he waved you off.

"I think that's ok, I did accidentally tell your husband how I was upset at myself for never asking you out," Bradley told you and you laughed at the feeling of Bob tightening his hold on you.

"He told me about that, while I appreciate two of you thinking I'm attractive, I am very happy in my marriage," you told them, it was enough to snap Jake out of his shock.

"How the hell did Bob bag you?" Jake exclaimed and you looked over at him again.

"He's got a huge," Bob cut you off with a tug away from the others.

"Ok, that's enough," your husband told you with ear tipped ears. You gave him a sweet smile as you heard the laughter from his squad. Bob led you away from them and out of the building and to the car. "You're going to pay for that," Bob told you as he started his truck, his hand landing on your thigh.

"I can't wait," you told him, your smile widening just a little bit more.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[fandomtrela]

This was amazing! 🤩🤩🤩

Tw!cheating,reader has her heart broken

Mr. Perfectly Fine, Meet the King of My Heart

Jake Seresin x Pop Star!Reader x Bob Floyd

You should’ve known something was wrong that night.

Jake hadn’t kissed you when you showed up. He always kissed you. It used to be the first thing he did—before hello, before even looking at you properly. But when you slid into the Hard Deck, dressed down in jeans and one of his old Navy hoodies that you’d cropped yourself, he only looked over his shoulder and smiled like a man who didn’t quite recognize you.

That smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Still, you didn’t push it.

You were used to busy. You were used to pressure. You were used to distance. That’s what happened when a pop star dated a fighter pilot. Schedules clashed. Time zones blurred. The only thing that made it work was trust.

And God, had you trusted him.

After all, this was Jake.

Jake, who flew you to Catalina Island just for your birthday dinner.

Jake, who stayed up until 4am FaceTiming you between stadium shows.

Jake, who’d kissed your knuckles and called you “darlin’” in front of the entire press line at the AMAs.

Jake, who inspired songs like “Call It What You Want” and “Lover.”

He had been everything. He was everything.

Until the moment he wasn’t.

You were halfway across the bar when it happened. You’d stopped to say hi to Phoenix and Bob—sweet Bob, who always offered you his seat and never once asked for a selfie. You hadn’t even made it to Jake’s side yet when you caught a glimpse of blonde. Slender hand. Red nails. Her laugh, high and flirty, practically floated through the air like it was layered with glitter.

Your eyes found them before your brain did.

Her hand on his chest.

His arm around her waist.

Too close.

Too familiar.

You froze.

Maybe…maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Maybe she was just drunk. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he was about to push her away and tell her he had someone—someone who just released her second platinum album, someone who thought he was the one.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t stop her.

He just leaned in and whispered something against her ear, and you watched her smile like she’d just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

That was when he saw you.

It was like someone had hit pause on the entire bar.

Jake’s eyes widened.

“Babe,” he called, too late. “Wait, it’s—”

You were already backing away.

Already blinking hard.

Already feeling the air rip out of your lungs in one brutal gust.

Everyone was watching.

Bob stood like he might go after you.

Phoenix cursed under her breath.

Reuben and Mickey looked like they didn’t know whether to tackle Jake or follow you.

But you didn’t give them a chance.

You turned.

Walked out.

Didn’t look back.

And Jake didn’t follow.

⸻

The next morning, it was everywhere.

“POP PRINCESS & NAVY’S GOLDEN BOY: It’s Over!”

“Jake Seresin Caught Cheating—Publicly. Brutally. Stupidly.”

“She Left in Tears. He Stayed With the Other Girl.”

Your phone didn’t stop buzzing for days.

Your fans wanted blood.

Your label wanted a statement.

Your heart wanted…nothing. It was done.

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you disappeared.

You hid out in LA for a week, crying into your own merch hoodie and whispering “I should’ve known” between voice memos you couldn’t bear to play back.

But then—

Then you flew to San Diego.

⸻

You showed up on base like a ghost draped in vintage sunglasses and heartbreak. No press. No entourage. Just you, your notebook, and a guitar.

The squad didn’t know what to say.

Phoenix hugged you like a sister.

Bob nodded, gently, like he didn’t want to scare you off.

Jake was…well. He was there. But you didn’t even spare him a glance.

Instead, you made yourself at home in Hangar 3.

Your studio, for now.

A quiet corner of hell where you could write and rage and feel without interruption.

And write you did.

Every single day.

Songs about lies. About betrayal. About still loving someone you wished you didn’t.

Jake watched from a distance.

Bob brought you coffee.

Neither one of them knew that somewhere between “Mr. Perfectly Fine” and “All Too Well,” you started writing new songs.

Not about Jake.

Not anymore.

These were softer. Secret.

Songs about the way someone’s voice could ground you.

About kindness in the quietest corners.

About a pair of ocean eyes that never looked away when you were hurting.

———

It was raining the first time he showed up with tea.

You didn’t hear him at first—too lost in your own head, curled up in the corner of the hangar with your knees pulled to your chest and your hoodie drawn tight around your face. A half-filled notebook lay open beside you, the pages too damp to write on now, thanks to the open door and a moody coastal wind that didn’t seem to care you were mourning.

You weren’t even crying anymore. You were past that.

You were just… tired.

Then there was a rustle.

You looked up, half-expecting Jake.

But it was Bob.

So quiet. So soft. He stood at the edge of the hangar like he didn’t want to intrude, rain dotting his jacket, glasses fogged at the edges. He didn’t say anything at first—just walked slowly over and crouched beside you, setting down a paper bag and a tall cup with your name scribbled on the side.

“Didn’t know what kind of tea you liked,” he said gently. “So I brought three.”

You blinked at him. Your throat ached. Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I know,” he said. “Didn’t come to talk.”

He didn’t ask if you were okay. He didn’t bring up the headlines. He didn’t mention Jake, or the girl, or the way the entire squad had watched you break like glass in real time.

He just sat.

Pulled out a sleeve of Oreos and placed them between you. Took off his jacket and laid it across your knees. Opened one of the teas—green, lightly sweet—and set it down beside your notebook without another word.

You didn’t speak.

He didn’t push.

But he stayed.

Minutes passed like hours. You listened to the rain. To the rustle of wrappers. To the steady sound of Bob Floyd existing beside you, like some kind of lighthouse in a sea you hadn’t asked to drown in.

And slowly, you reached for the tea.

He didn’t look at you. But when you sipped, he smiled.

⸻

It became a routine after that.

He never asked. Never made it a thing. But somehow, every time you showed up at base with your bag and your notebook and your aching chest, he found you. Sometimes with snacks. Sometimes with blankets. Sometimes with nothing but his calm, anchoring presence.

He’d sit beside you while you scrawled lyrics in red ink, your hand trembling with rage or heartbreak or both.

He never asked to see.

Never tried to pry.

But once—just once—you caught him humming one of your songs under his breath. One of the old ones. A love song, from before.

You didn’t say anything.

But your heart stuttered.

And that night, for the first time in weeks, you wrote a different kind of song.

It wasn’t about Jake.

It was about kindness in borrowed jackets.

It was about the way someone could sit beside you in silence and somehow make it feel like the loudest comfort in the world.

You titled it “Lavender Haze.”

And you didn’t tell a soul.

———

Jake had seen a lot of wild things in his career—enemy missiles, dogfights over desert skies, even a bird strike at Mach speed—but nothing, nothing, prepared him for the gut-punch of walking into the hangar and seeing her laugh.

Not just smile.

Laugh.

And it wasn’t with him.

Bob was sitting beside her on a folded blanket, one arm resting over a box of donuts, the other holding her phone as she showed him something that made her snort. She nudged him with her shoulder and said something Jake couldn’t hear. Bob said something back, awkward and sweet, and she actually leaned her head on his shoulder for a second like it was normal.

Like she did that now.

Jake stood frozen in the doorway.

He hadn’t seen her really laugh since… well, him. Since them.

Now, it was Bob.

It wasn’t fair.

He waited until Bob left—quiet, like he always was. No big goodbye, just a soft little smile and a promise to bring her coffee tomorrow.

Then Jake stepped into the hangar.

You looked up and stiffened immediately. Gone was the easy smile. The laugh. The soft body language. Everything shuttered like a slammed door.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just to talk.”

“About what?” You turned back to your notebook. “You cheat on all your girlfriends or was I just lucky?”

He winced. “That’s not fair.”

You scribbled something in red ink and didn’t even look at him. “You know what’s not fair? Getting humiliated in front of your friends and fans by someone who said he loved you.”

Jake stepped closer. “I did love you.”

“No, Jake,” you said, eyes finally locking with his. Cold. Hard. “You loved that I loved you. You loved the spotlight. The attention. You didn’t love me.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw flexed. “Are you… with him?”

You tilted your head. “With who?”

“Bob.”

You laughed. It wasn’t warm. “God, Jake. If I was, what makes you think you get to care?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I miss you.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way it used to. It was like hearing a song that used to break you and realizing it just didn’t hit the same anymore.

You stood, walked up to him slow.

“You don’t miss me, Jake,” you whispered. “You miss the control. You miss being the one the songs were about.”

And before he could speak again, you stepped around him.

Back to your corner.

Back to your notebook.

Back to the love songs you were finally writing for someone who never once asked to be the center of them.

———

Jake had seen a lot of wild things in his career—enemy missiles, dogfights over desert skies, even a bird strike at Mach speed—but nothing, nothing, prepared him for the gut-punch of walking into the hangar and seeing her laugh.

Not just smile.

Laugh.

And it wasn’t with him.

Bob was sitting beside her on a folded blanket, one arm resting over a box of donuts, the other holding her phone as she showed him something that made her snort. She nudged him with her shoulder and said something Jake couldn’t hear. Bob said something back, awkward and sweet, and she actually leaned her head on his shoulder for a second like it was normal.

Like she did that now.

Jake stood frozen in the doorway.

He hadn’t seen her really laugh since… well, him. Since them.

Now, it was Bob.

It wasn’t fair.

He waited until Bob left—quiet, like he always was. No big goodbye, just a soft little smile and a promise to bring her coffee tomorrow.

Then Jake stepped into the hangar.

You looked up and stiffened immediately. Gone was the easy smile. The laugh. The soft body language. Everything shuttered like a slammed door.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just to talk.”

“About what?” You turned back to your notebook. “You cheat on all your girlfriends or was I just lucky?”

He winced. “That’s not fair.”

You scribbled something in red ink and didn’t even look at him. “You know what’s not fair? Getting humiliated in front of your friends and fans by someone who said he loved you.”

Jake stepped closer. “I did love you.”

“No, Jake,” you said, eyes finally locking with his. Cold. Hard. “You loved that I loved you. You loved the spotlight. The attention. You didn’t love me.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. His jaw flexed. “Are you… with him?”

You tilted your head. “With who?”

“Bob.”

You laughed. It wasn’t warm. “God, Jake. If I was, what makes you think you get to care?”

Silence.

Then:

“Because I miss you.”

Your heart clenched, but not in the way it used to. It was like hearing a song that used to break you and realizing it just didn’t hit the same anymore.

You stood, walked up to him slow.

“You don’t miss me, Jake,” you whispered. “You miss the control. You miss being the one the songs were about.”

And before he could speak again, you stepped around him.

Back to your corner.

Back to your notebook.

Back to the love songs you were finally writing for someone who never once asked to be the center of them.

———

The Hard Deck didn’t hit the same anymore.

It used to feel warm. Familiar. Like summer in a bottle. Like love and laughter and Jake’s arm around her waist while the squad clapped and joked and told her to sing something on the piano, come on, just one song.

Now, it was cold. Loud. Every corner felt haunted by a ghost with green eyes and a reckless grin.

And he was still here.

Laughing, like nothing happened. Sitting with her. The girl he cheated with.

It had been a week. One week since she caught him with her—in public. One week since she stormed out in tears and said nothing to anyone. One week since the internet exploded with breakup headlines and fan accounts posting side-by-sides of old love songs with the caption:

“Was this about him? 😭😭”

She hadn’t said a word. Not to Jake. Not to the press.

But she didn’t have to. She had a pen.

And if he thought she’d be quiet? He didn’t know her at all.

So she walked in that night dressed to kill. Not for him—but for herself. Big sunglasses even though the sun was down. Blood red lip gloss. Glittery boots and a notebook under her arm. She ordered a Shirley Temple, took a seat at her usual corner table, and started writing like he wasn’t twenty feet away with his hand on that girl’s thigh.

She was going to ruin him.

Until she looked up—and saw Bob Floyd.

Quiet, soft-spoken Bob. In a navy tee with his sleeves rolled up, helping Fanboy and Coyote carry drinks from the bar. Laughing at something Phoenix said, his curls a little wild from the breeze, glasses slipping down his nose. Sweet and unbothered and good in a way that infuriated her.

Her breath caught. She blinked. Blinked again.

No.

No no no. This was not happening.

Because suddenly she was writing a new line in the margin of her heartbreak anthem, and it wasn’t about Jake at all.

You’re so gorgeous I can’t say anything to your face…

She looked away, then looked back.

God. His face.

Look at your face. LOOK. AT. YOUR. FACE.

“You’re so cool it makes me hate you so much,” she mumbled to herself, cheeks burning. She scratched the words onto a napkin, shoved it under her notebook like a dirty secret, and immediately took a sip of her drink to calm down.

She could not be doing this. She wasn’t ready. She was supposed to be angry. She was supposed to be ruining Jake. Not suddenly sitting here imagining Bob Floyd holding her hand and telling her to get some sleep. Not daydreaming about his shy little smile. Not wondering what his voice would sound like whispering into her neck at night.

And yet, she was.

When she peeked up again, Bob caught her looking. He smiled.

Waved.

And her heart betrayed her all over again.

———

The album was done. Twelve tracks, thirty-seven minutes, one hell of a story.

The private listening party wasn’t massive — just a handpicked list of industry reps, a few press faces, and the entire Top Gun squadron. Yes, even him. Jake and the girl he cheated with were posted near the back wall, looking out of place in their half-assed “supportive” poses.

She sat near the front, legs crossed, drink in hand, in a black jumpsuit and boots. Confidence radiating. The heartbreak? Buried under eyeliner and heels. The love songs? Still a secret.

Bob slid into the seat beside her with a soft smile and a gentle, “Hey.” He had a little bag of her favorite candy in his lap.

“Thanks for coming,” she murmured.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He didn’t know. Not yet. About the tracks he’d inspired. About how he helped stitch her heart back together just by being there.

The lights dimmed. A producer leaned over the mic.

“Alright, everyone — here’s the first listen of ‘Lover, Loser, Legend’.”

The first track dropped.

“I was a name in your mouth, a notch in your pride / Now I’m on stages you only dream about at night…”

Phoenix audibly said, “Oop.”

Rooster leaned forward, whispering something low under his breath about how brutal the lyrics were. Jake flinched at the second chorus.

“You said I was dramatic / Turns out I was prophetic…”

By track three, ‘Mr. Perfectly Fine,’ the room was shifting. Jake was white-knuckling his beer. His date was staring at the ceiling like it could save her.

By track five, ‘How Did It End?’, the tears were already welling in her own eyes, but she kept her face calm, unreadable. And then—

“He never looked back, not once / But I kept watching the door…”

Bob’s hand gently brushed her knee. Subtle. Reassuring. He thought she was reliving what Jake did to her — which was half true. But the tears weren’t just about Jake.

Because then track seven began: ‘Gorgeous.’

“You’re so gorgeous / I can’t say anything to your face…”

Her eyes flickered to Bob — who was watching the speakers, brows furrowed.

“And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us / He’s in the club doing I don’t know what…”

“You make me so happy it turns back to sad…”

His head tilted slightly, like he was trying to connect a thread.

Then came ‘Lavender Haze’. And finally ‘Dress’.

Bob sat frozen, lips parted slightly. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. She could feel the question forming in his head.

When the last track faded and the studio lights came back up, applause broke out. Industry people buzzing. Phones lighting up.

But all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

Phoenix leaned across the back of the couch. “Girl… who are the love songs about?”

All eyes were on her.

She glanced sideways, met Bob’s eyes just briefly — and smiled.

“I guess you’ll find out when the tour starts.”

———

Snapbacks, glitter, black sequins. The stadium was packed. A sea of lights. Signs. Chants. They were screaming her name before the first note even hit.

Bob stood among the VIP section, pressed between Phoenix and Rooster. The squad had gotten seats up front—close enough to feel the bass in their bones, to see the sweat on her brow when the spotlight caught her just right.

Jake was further back.

He wasn’t the one she was singing to tonight.

The stage was fire and vengeance for the first half.

She strutted across it like she was born to, voice raw, fearless, devastating.

“I bet you think I’m sleeping soundly / But I’ve been burning every bridge you ever touched…”

Jake looked like he wanted the floor to eat him. Every other line seemed to call him out by name. The fans knew. They screamed and shouted, middle fingers raised when she sang ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived.’

Then the lights went out. Total blackout.

A hush swept the crowd.

One single spotlight clicked on. A piano. Just her.

“There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear…”

Bob blinked.

“I’ve been in a lavender haze…”

Phoenix sucked in a sharp breath. Rooster nudged her.

Bob didn’t move. His eyes were locked on her.

She was sitting now, legs crossed delicately, mic pressed to her lips. And she wasn’t looking at the crowd.

She was looking dead at him.

“You’re so gorgeous / I can’t say anything to your face / ‘Cause look at your face…”

He froze. That line. That smile.

She gave the tiniest tilt of her head. The barest smirk.

“I’ve got a boyfriend, he’s older than us / He’s in the club doing I don’t know what…”

Jake’s eyes widened behind him. “That’s not—”

“Shh,” Phoenix hissed.

“I knew from the first old-fashioned, we were cursed / We never had a shotgun shot in the dark…”

And then—then—came the moment.

The moment the stage went violet, the lights came up, and the synth for ‘Dress’ hit. The whole crowd screamed.

“Only bought this dress so you could take it off…”

She stood again.

Walked slowly, intentionally, to the edge of the stage, eyes never leaving Bob.

“Say my name and everything just stops…”

And he stopped. Every muscle in his body locked.

“I don’t want you like a best friend…”

The implication hit him like a freight train.

His mouth opened just slightly. His breath caught.

Phoenix clutched his arm.

“Oh my god,” Bob whispered.

“Carve your name into my bedpost…”

She smiled.

It wasn’t a seductive smile. It was a knowing one.

She had kept this secret for months. And now it was out, bleeding across speakers, echoing through stadiums, seeping into every pair of headphones around the world.

She ended the song with her eyes still on him.

And when the applause crashed like a wave, when her name echoed from the rafters—

Bob was still standing there, heart racing, mind spinning, stunned into absolute silence.

Because all this time…

Every love song…

Was about him.

———

The roar of the crowd hadn’t faded yet. It pulsed through the concrete of the backstage halls like a heartbeat. Sweat still clung to her brow, her voice was hoarse, her hand clutched a cold water bottle that had long since stopped sweating.

But none of that mattered.

“Ray,” she said, snapping her fingers gently as her ever-faithful bodyguard appeared at her side. “Can you bring Bob back here? The one in the glasses. Blue shirt. Sitting next to Phoenix.”

Ray didn’t even blink. “On it.”

She barely waited a beat before pulling her oversized hoodie on over her stage outfit, pacing the floor of her dressing room like a storm in soft slippers. Her heart was beating too loud. The adrenaline was already starting to crash—but the nerves? Those were just now kicking in.

What if I just made everything weird?

What if he didn’t get it?

What if he did?

A knock on the door.

She nearly tripped trying to get there first.

Ray stepped aside, revealing Bob—still a little wide-eyed, still looking like he hadn’t quite caught his breath. His shirt was rumpled. His cheeks pink. There were about six emotions warring in his expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he answered, eyes flicking to the ground for just a second before finding hers again. “You wanted to see me?”

She nodded, stepping aside so he could enter. It was just the two of them now. The room was quiet, too quiet compared to what they’d just come from. The echo of her lyrics still lingered in the air.

She closed the door behind him gently.

“I figured it was time I stopped hiding.”

Bob swallowed. “They were about me. Weren’t they?”

She didn’t answer with words. She just looked at him. And when he didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, didn’t deny—that was her answer, too.

“You were the only thing that kept me standing after… you know.”

Bob’s voice was soft. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t want you to. I didn’t think I could handle it if you didn’t feel the same way and then I’d ruin the one good thing I had left.”

He blinked slowly. And then—

“I don’t know how you expect someone to feel the same when they didn’t even know they were in the running.”

She laughed, almost disbelieving. “Okay, fair.”

“You wrote ‘King of My Heart,’” he said, like it had just hit him all over again. “And ‘Enchanted’?”

“I wrote ‘Gorgeous’ the day I saw you helping Phoenix carry out takeout from that taco place,” she admitted.

Bob’s face turned completely red.

“But I also wrote ‘Lavender Haze’ the week you sat in the corner with me and brought me tea and snacks like I wasn’t being completely unhinged writing revenge anthems two feet from my ex-boyfriend.”

He looked down, a little smile ghosting his lips. “I just… wanted to be there for you.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You still are.”

Another beat. Another breath. Then he looked up, really looked at her.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime? Just us? No instruments. No lyrics.”

She nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Before either of them could say more, the door burst open with a rush of voices—Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, the whole crew barreling in laughing, shouting, hugging.

“You were incredible!” “Best concert of my life!” “Those songs—damn!”

She barely had time to glance at Bob, but when their eyes met across the room—when he gave her the softest, sweetest smile like he was still carrying her lyrics with him—it was enough.

Jake wasn’t there. Neither was she.

But Bob was. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

The roar of the crowd hadn’t faded yet. It pulsed through the concrete of the backstage halls like a heartbeat. Sweat still clung to her brow, her voice was hoarse, her hand clutched a cold water bottle that had long since stopped sweating.

But none of that mattered.

“Ray,” she said, snapping her fingers gently as her ever-faithful bodyguard appeared at her side. “Can you bring Bob back here? The one in the glasses. Blue shirt. Sitting next to Phoenix.”

Ray didn’t even blink. “On it.”

She barely waited a beat before pulling her oversized hoodie on over her stage outfit, pacing the floor of her dressing room like a storm in soft slippers. Her heart was beating too loud. The adrenaline was already starting to crash—but the nerves? Those were just now kicking in.

What if I just made everything weird?

What if he didn’t get it?

What if he did?

A knock on the door.

She nearly tripped trying to get there first.

Ray stepped aside, revealing Bob—still a little wide-eyed, still looking like he hadn’t quite caught his breath. His shirt was rumpled. His cheeks pink. There were about six emotions warring in his expression.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he answered, eyes flicking to the ground for just a second before finding hers again. “You wanted to see me?”

She nodded, stepping aside so he could enter. It was just the two of them now. The room was quiet, too quiet compared to what they’d just come from. The echo of her lyrics still lingered in the air.

She closed the door behind him gently.

“I figured it was time I stopped hiding.”

Bob swallowed. “They were about me. Weren’t they?”

She didn’t answer with words. She just looked at him. And when he didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, didn’t deny—that was her answer, too.

“You were the only thing that kept me standing after… you know.”

Bob’s voice was soft. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” Her lips twisted. “I didn’t want you to. I didn’t think I could handle it if you didn’t feel the same way and then I’d ruin the one good thing I had left.”

He blinked slowly. And then—

“I don’t know how you expect someone to feel the same when they didn’t even know they were in the running.”

She laughed, almost disbelieving. “Okay, fair.”

“You wrote ‘King of My Heart,’” he said, like it had just hit him all over again. “And ‘Enchanted’?”

“I wrote ‘Gorgeous’ the day I saw you helping Phoenix carry out takeout from that taco place,” she admitted.

Bob’s face turned completely red.

“But I also wrote ‘Lavender Haze’ the week you sat in the corner with me and brought me tea and snacks like I wasn’t being completely unhinged writing revenge anthems two feet from my ex-boyfriend.”

He looked down, a little smile ghosting his lips. “I just… wanted to be there for you.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You still are.”

Another beat. Another breath. Then he looked up, really looked at her.

“Do you wanna get dinner sometime? Just us? No instruments. No lyrics.”

She nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Before either of them could say more, the door burst open with a rush of voices—Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, the whole crew barreling in laughing, shouting, hugging.

“You were incredible!” “Best concert of my life!” “Those songs—damn!”

She barely had time to glance at Bob, but when their eyes met across the room—when he gave her the softest, sweetest smile like he was still carrying her lyrics with him—it was enough.

Jake wasn’t there. Neither was she.

But Bob was. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

The restaurant was one of the best in San Diego—rooftop view, mood lighting, and a private area already cleared out by the time the group rolled in. The Navy crew weren’t used to this kind of luxury. Cloth napkins. Candlelight. Plates that cost more than their monthly car payments.

But they were riding the high of the concert, and their girl—America’s sweetheart with a platinum voice and a heart like steel—had just done the unthinkable.

“Y/N paid for everything,” Phoenix whispered to Fanboy as they were seated. “Even pre-paid the tip.”

“Wait—like for all of us?” he whispered back.

“All. Of. Us.”

“What kind of money is this?”

“Taylor Swift money,” Rooster muttered as he eased into his seat.

She just smiled as they all settled into the massive circular table. Bob ended up across from her—not by accident. He’d chosen the furthest open seat from hers, trying not to make anything look different. Trying to be respectful. Careful. Not because they had anything to hide.

But because he was now, finally, something she wanted to keep.

She caught his eye once, twice, as the waiters poured wine and passed appetizers. He smiled at her over his glass. She tucked her tongue into her cheek and looked away.

They were fine.

The others? Less so.

“So,” Hangman started, swirling his bourbon. “We all know the breakup songs were about me. I mean…” He gestured dramatically to his own face. “It’s not exactly hard to figure out.”

Payback muttered, “Can’t believe she let you live after ‘Mr. Perfectly Fine.’”

“Oh no, ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived’ was personal,” Rooster chimed in, snorting.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix groaned. “She dragged him to hell. And then resurrected him just to do it again.”

Hangman rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed but trying to look cool. “Whatever. I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He said it a little too loud, a little too sharp.

No one cared.

“What I wanna know,” Fanboy leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was telling a ghost story, “is who the love songs were about. Because ‘King of My Heart’? ‘Dress’? ‘Gorgeous’? Babe. Those were not written by a woman heartbroken. She was writing like she was in love.”

Everyone turned to her.

She blinked, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on,” Phoenix groaned. “You’re glowing. You’ve got that ‘I wrote a song about a boy and he doesn’t know it’ face.”

“I’m literally not glowing,” she said, sipping her wine. “It’s just the lighting.”

“You said ‘I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us, he’s in the room’!” Payback quoted. “Is he in the room?”

“Is he older?” Fanboy added.

She shrugged.

Bob, across the table, was silent—his eyes trained very steadily on his water glass. His cheeks were pink. His jaw was tight.

He knew. Or at least, he was starting to.

“I’m not telling,” she said simply, leaning back in her chair and letting the silence hang in the air like a smirk. “You’ll have to keep guessing.”

Hangman scoffed. “What, is it someone famous? Some actor?”

Rooster leaned over to Bob, voice low. “She’s definitely messing with us.”

Bob gave a polite laugh, nodded—but didn’t speak. Because he had no idea what would come out if he did.

And across the table, she met his eyes just once more.

Held it.

You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face…

The fans weren’t the only ones trying to figure it out anymore.

———

After four months and thirteen days of quiet dating, late-night studio runs, and secret smiles, it was time.

⸻

The Music Video

It dropped without warning:

—Rocketing chords join low piano keys—

Her voice begins soft, trembling with emotion:

“I, I just woke up from a dream

Where you and I had to say goodbye

And I don’t know what it all means

But since I survived, I realized

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow

Nobody’s promised tomorrow

So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night

Like it’s the last night”

One shot: her and Bob in bed. Bare feet. Early morning light. Soft laughter as she wakes him with a kiss.

—The chorus rises—

He’s there with her, hand in hers as they run through empty streets:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you

If the party was over

And our time on Earth was through

I’d wanna hold you just for a while

And die with a smile

If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you”

No CGI. No drama. Just two lovers lost to each other. The world could crumble—they didn’t care.

She takes over, voice shaking with feeling:

“Ooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream

I don’t even wanna do this anymore

’Cause you already know what you mean to me

And our love’s the only one worth fighting for”

They dance barefoot in the living room. His hand around her waist. Her head against his chest. It’s them, finally unmasked.

—Back to the chorus—

Overlapping vocals, echoing through candlelit tender moments:

“Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow

Nobody’s promised tomorrow

So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night”

—Bridge and final moments—

They kiss in front of a fire. Fade to black. Then:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you…

I’d wanna hold you just for a while

And die with a smile”

Last lines linger:

“If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you

If the world was ending

I’d wanna be next to you”

When dawn broke, the internet died.

“THEY. WERE. DATING???”

“THAT’S BOB???”

“GORGEOUS WAS HIM ALL ALONG?”

Her phone buzzed nonstop as the Navy squad flooded her mentions with pride and disbelief. Jake didn’t comment. He didn’t show up.

Backstage, Bob pressed play on her phone. His eyes filled. He looked at her. Humbled. Nervous.

“You wrote that verse for me?” he whispered.

She nodded, stepping closer.

“Lost in the words that we scream…” she recited, voice soft.

“Our love’s the only one worth fighting for.” – Her eyes on his.

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you…” she finished, reaching for his hand.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“I want the whole world to see how much I love you.”

She leaned in and kissed him.

No cameras. No scripts.

Just two people who risked everything—writing a love story that nobody saw coming.

———

The premiere was for a gritty indie-meets-blockbuster war drama. She had a supporting role—a fierce, grounded medic with three pivotal scenes and one unforgettable monologue. Critics were already calling it her “breakout screen moment,” but all anyone could talk about wasn’t the film.

It was who she brought.

Because when she stepped onto the carpet, Bob Floyd was right there beside her.

Not trailing. Not lingering like security.

Right there. Holding her hand.

He looked devastating in a custom navy suit that matched his eyes, glasses polished, curls soft and brushed back just enough to show off that boyish charm.

She wore black silk. A plunging neckline. Diamonds glinting on her ears. A classic Old Hollywood silhouette—but modernized, fierce. The press gasped. Cameras fired. And then—he looked at her.

He looked at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Like he still couldn’t believe she chose him.

—

A reporter tried to ask who her date was.

She just smiled and said,

“This is Bob. He’s… the reason behind most of the album.”

And that was it. Chaos.

—

Photo after photo:

• Her whispering something into his ear and him blushing like he’s never been on a carpet before.

• Bob wrapping his arm protectively around her waist as flashbulbs go off.

• Her laughing while he looks at her like she personally hung the moon.

• One shot where she looks dead at the camera, unbothered, but he is staring at her like she’s the only one in focus.

Twitter melted.

“Bob Floyd is the new standard.”

“He looks at her like she’s art.”

“Jake WHO? THIS is love.”

Even gossip blogs had to admit it.

“He watches her the way everyone deserves to be seen.”

“It’s clear: she wrote the breakup songs about Hangman, but the love songs—they were always Bob.”

—

When they got inside, she leaned into him in the plush theater seat and murmured,

“How you doing, Red Carpet King?”

Bob just shook his head, pink in the cheeks, and kissed her temple.

“I’m not used to all this,” he said quietly, “but I’d follow you into any storm.”

She smiled.

“Good,” she whispered back, “because this love story’s just getting started.”

[fandomtrela]

This was really cute 🥰

Hiiiii i have a request 😛

bob floyd gets a concussion and is flustered and embarrassed when wife!reader tells him they’re married, and he doesn’t believe her because she’s so pretty

muaahahahaha😈😈😈 I absolutely loveee this !!!

warnings/tags: v minimal hospital stuff, anxious reader, (y/n) used like twice, fluff, bob is sooo in love lololl, very quick nsfw mention, also bob is southern because I SAID SO, reader is lowkey southern too cause i am and i’m projecting🥀

wc: 1.2k

a/n: sighhh i love bob so much, this was so fun to write :] thank you for the req !!

It wasn't very often you were invited on base. You aren't not allowed there, you just never really had much of a reason to spend the day over there. So that's why you're a little fidgety as you make your way through the parking lot of the small hospital on base. That, and you had received a worrying phone call this morning.

You were lounging at home- enjoying your day off- when your phone rang. You recognized the number from the very few times you had been called by one of your husband's supervisors. A doctor had informed you that your husband had had to make an emergency eject during training and hit his head pretty hard.

You had panicked immediately but the doctor assured you Bob would be just fine; he just has a fairly serious concussion and his memory and motor skills are a bit wonky at the moment. You finished up the phone call and rushed over as quickly as you could.

You aren't waiting in the lobby very long before a nurse leads you back to your husband's room. Your heart almost breaks at the sight of him in his hospital bed, looking absolutely pitiful. He's sitting up slightly with his head tilted back facing the ceiling, his eyes closed and his breathing a bit slower than usual.

"Bobby? Honey, how're you feeling?" You're by his side in an instant, one hand caressing his arm and the other brushing along his forehead as his eyes flutter a few times before his head tilts toward you. His eyes are a bit fuzzy, unfocused, but he's still got that light he's always had- like the sun itself has taken root in him and couldn't help but shine through. "'m doin' okay, how're you?" He mumbles, his tone completely serious. You can't help but laugh at him; those southern manners imbedded deep in him. "I'm okay, just worried bout you, Bobby." You run your fingers along the edge of a small bandage on his forehead, before turning and reaching for his glasses.

Carefully, you slide them onto his face and watch in amusement as his mouth drops open. You go to speak, but he beats you to it; "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A pretty flush rises to his cheeks and his eyes stay wide open, like he doesn't want to blink and miss any microexpression you might make.

"Oh, thank you, handsome." You grin, cupping his chin with one hand and leaning in to brush your lips against his gently. You're shocked when his shaky arms do what they can to push you away- there's not much force behind his wobbly movements, but you back away and look down at him with furrowed brows. "Nonononono, stop stop- 'm married." He frantically tries to get out despite the slur in his voice.

"Baby-" You start, fighting the giggle in your voice. He shakes his head, a beautiful pout taking over his features. "I love my wife. She's perfect- you gotta back up." His eyes screw shut, he turns his head away from you, and his shaky hands rub his eyes. "Her name's (y/n), she's fuckin' great- pardon my l-language." He mumbles, mostly to himself at this point.

"Bob. My name is (y/n). My last name's Floyd. I'm your wife." You reach out to gently grasp his wrists. Bob whips his head toward you so fast he's dizzy for a few moments. You keep your eyes on him, unsure whether to laugh or call for a nurse. Once his eyes really focus on you he seems to deflate, his arms falling to his lap and his cheeks quickly heat up a bright red. He looks.. nervous. "You okay?" You hum, slowly reaching out for him.

A beat of silence passes before he opens his mouth, his bottom lip trembling, "I missed youuu." He finally says- his hand shooting out to meet yours. He overshoots it a bit, though, and smacks your shoulder. You let out a relieved laugh, grabbing his hand and interlacing your fingers together. God, he really scared you for a second. "You're really my wife? How?" He asks, looking absolutely amazed as you run your fingers along his cheekbones.

"It's a very long story, Bobby. But I love you." You grin, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He lets out a dreamy sigh, reaching up with his free hand to grip onto your shoulder. "Yeah? God, you're so pretty." He blinks up at you, unable to fight the smile on his face.

For a moment, you're stunned by just how beautiful he is- pink cheeks, wide eyes, and a boyish grin; a little beat up and bruised but easily the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. You chest seems to swell up with all the love you feel for your husband. You feel a tugging at your shirt and realize he's said something to you. "Sorry, what'd you say, honey?"

"'m tryna sweep you off your feet, sweetheart- you're makin' it hard." Bob grumbles, letting go of your hand to grip at the front of your shirt so he can tug you down with both arms. You let out a breathy laugh, allowing him to pull you closer. "I'm so very sorry." You grin against his lips before giving in.

He tastes the same, he's got the usual enthusiasm, his technique's just a bit wonky. You honestly wouldn't change it for the world. The kiss only breaks when he's gasping and you have to push him away or he won't stop. It's his favorite thing- drowning in you; in your eyes, your lips, your pussy. God, just the thought of having you has blood rushing to his dick so fast he's a bit lightheaded.

You press one last lingering kiss to his lips before you're pulling back and turning to grab a chair. "Doctor said you gotta spend the night here so-"

"Need my pillow- need to move my pillow." Bob's voice is urgent when he interrupts you and you're letting go of the chair and running your eyes over him to see if anything's changed. "Where? Are you okay? You hurting?" You question him as you carefully slide the pillow out from behind him. He just furrows his brows and chews on his lip as you hold the pillow beside him for a moment. "Where do you want it, Bobby?" You repeat, worry clawing up your throat.

"My lap." One of his wobbly arms grabs onto the pillow and tugs it toward him- you don't let go just yet, your fear turning to confusion. A "Huh?" tumbles from your lips and Bob is grinning. "So pretty, my wife.. Gave me a kiss and I popped a boner." He sighs, still fighting with you for the pillow as he starts to giggle to himself over the word 'boner'.

You let go of the pillow with an incredulous laugh and watch as he settles it over his lap. Surely there's no way he's at full mast with all the pain meds in his system- you almost want to check- but you just shake your head and settle into the chair next to his hospital bed. You thread your fingers with his and settle your head onto his boner-hiding pillow, keeping your eyes on his as he traces his unsteady fingers along your features.

Bob stares at you in wonder, wondering what he could've done to ever possibly deserve having you. "My wife." He murmurs, reverently, like he can't quite believe it.

"Maybe we'll renew our vows when you aren't so hopped up on pain meds."

[fandomtrela]

pairing: robert reynolds x reader cw: smut, afab reader, breeding, nursing, dry humping, mommy kink without the use of the word ‘mommy’(?).

bob had many bad habits—and calling them “bad” felt almost reductive. it wasn’t so much that they were wrong, but that they were inevitable. necessary evils, like antidepressants that cured one demon only to awaken another—sleep stolen, thoughts sharpened into blades. you knew the risks. knew that there were layers to him, chasms of light and void so impossibly knotted together that pulling one string risked unraveling everything. and yet, not once did you try to stop him.

especially not when he had you like this.

bob had you in what would have been a mating press. he wasn’t dominating you; that would have implied control. no, this was desperation.

you felt the weight of him—solid, large, always too warm. his hips moved in slow, needy grinds, rutting into the softness of your thigh with a barely contained whine. he didn’t even seem aware he was doing it at first, too lost in the hum of your skin against his, the scent of your shampoo, the knowledge that you were here, real, and not another hallucination clawing through the fissures in his fragile reality.

his entire psyche was trembling in the cradle of your touch. that heavy body of his, golden-skinned and too warm, was sprawled across yours, pinning you to the plush comforter of your shared bed. all clothes still on, not even trying to make a move for your underwear, and yet rutting into you like a fevered animal who’d finally found shelter from the storm.

“please… just stay still,” he whined into your neck, voice thick with need, cracked around the edges like a man seconds from breaking. “i need this… need you so bad…”

his hips rocked down, grinding the full length of his cock into the soft swell between your thighs, the friction of denim-on-denim only fueling his urgency. you could feel how soaked the front of his jeans already were, a hot patch of pre-cum bleeding through the fabric and clinging to your skin underneath your own clothes. he wasn’t trying to get off fast—he was trying to feel. the kind of touch-starved desperation that made your breath catch, made your core throb with guilt-tinged arousal.

it always started like this. bob had a serious humping problem, and half the time, he didn’t even seem aware he was doing it. like some old, buried instinct took over and short-circuited everything else. one minute, you were making drinks behind the bar—yelena’s had already been poured, predictably flat beer, though you’d sometimes coax her into a frozen piña colada on hot nights when the mission weight cracked her shell—and the next, bob was there.

you hadn’t even noticed when he moved in front of you. but there he was, subtly grinding the outline of his cock—half-hard, already leaking—against your ass while you stirred a cocktail like it was the most normal thing in the world. his hands crept around your hips, fingers splayed wide, clutching you like you might evaporate.

you could feel the thick heat of him behind you, the slow, indulgent roll of his hips pressing that leaking bulge harder against your backside. he buried his face into your shoulder, just breathing you in—letting the scent of your skin fill his lungs while his cock twitched and spilled again. a low grunt escaped him, like a growl caught in his throat, and you didn’t even need to look to know there’d be another dark patch soaking through the front of his pants soon.

he wasn’t much for words, at least not when he needed you like this. maybe it was psychological. maybe some freudian reflex—except his slips came in the form of motion, not speech. whatever it was, it usually ended the same: with bob flushed, breathing hard, and muttering a barely-there apology as he rushed off to change his boxers, the front soaked through with a spill of pre that just wouldn’t stop.

but that wasn’t even the worst of it.

no, the worst was bob’s obsession with your breasts. or more precisely, the act of nursing from them. you weren’t sure how it started—maybe a mission had gone sideways, maybe something in the void had cracked open inside him—but soon enough, it became a ritual. those pink, pouty lips latched onto your nipples with almost sacred reverence. like the act of sucking was anchoring him here, to this world, to you. he’d nurse himself to sleep on you, mouth slack and warm, eyelashes kissing your skin like they did when he wept.

he’d whimper softly while he suckled, hips occasionally jerking when your hand would trail down and cup the growing tent in his briefs. his tongue would lap at your nipple with slow, wet circles before taking it deeper into his mouth, his lips stretched open with hunger that was never quite satisfied. sometimes, he’d hum—soft, broken sounds that made your stomach clench and your thighs tighten.

it wouldn’t have been a problem, really—until bob started asking for more.

nursing wasn’t enough anymore. he wanted milk.

when you tried to gently explain to him that your body didn’t produce milk unless you were pregnant, something visibly shifted behind his eyes. a glint of understanding mixed with something far more primal. his breathing hitched, his hands went still on your hips—and the moment stretched out like a wire about to snap.

the next second he was rutting into you with such overwhelming need you could barely stay upright. his hands clenched at your waist like you’d disappear if he let go, his hips bucking up to meet yours with a helpless rhythm. you were riding him—gripping his broad shoulders, gasping each time he hit that perfect angle—and he was falling apart beneath you.

you were bare, both of you. his cock slid into you with such effortless heat you swore he was made for this, for you. your slick dripped down over his balls, already soaked from how much foreplay had bled into full-on worship. every grind of your hips forced a hiss through his teeth, his mouth falling open as he grabbed fistfuls of your ass and urged you down harder.

“please,” he sobbed, voice wrecked with sincerity. “please take my cum. i need it—i need you to have it. keep it inside, don’t waste it. don’t let it go, please—!”

the way he said please—like a dying man gasping for water—made you tremble. he was twitching inside you already, leaking thick pulses of pre so hot you swore you could feel it pool deep inside. you tightened around him and he cried out, high and hoarse, rutting up into you with broken rhythm. the slap of skin on skin echoed in the room, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he chased that final, frantic release.

he didn’t last long. he never did when the idea of forever was involved.

and when he came—god, when he came—it was like watching him detonate in slow motion. his entire body shook, legs kicking slightly under the sheets, and his cock jerked inside of you, spilling thick, hot ropes that filled you to the brim. it felt endless. like he’d saved it all just for you.

he sobbed through it, full-body tremors racking his frame as his arms wrapped tight around you. his tears were hot against your skin, streaming freely as he clung to you like a drowning man.

you didn’t move. you let him be there—in you, around you, breaking apart and coming back together in the shelter of your arms.

you held him as he cried, brushing his sweat-damp blonde curls back from his flushed face. he mumbled something incoherent against your breast, lips brushing the peak of your nipple before gently latching on again. and just like always, his breathing slowed. his body eased. the storm passed.

he drifted off suckling you, as though your body was the only thing tethering him to this plane of reality—and maybe it was.

maybe, in the end, you were his antidepressant. a dangerous kind. the kind that could save him or kill him depending on the dose.

and still, you’d never stop him.

[fandomtrela]

Stay With Me : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Ex-Widow!Reader

Summary: Bob wants to feel useful, to truly be part of the team, but the others don't think he's ready. You take it upon yourself to teach him control, to guide him through. But mistakes will be made, and it might not be possible to keep the darkness from creeping back in once more.

Warnings: fluff, angst, idiots in love, violence, death, language, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*

Word Count: 5,292 words PART TWO: Always : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

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

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,”

To be fair, Yelena Belova had every right to be apprehensive of your idea. It had only been a few months since The New Avengers had been formally established, and the team itself was still finding its groove working together. Standing up to Valentina and saving Bob from himself? That was one thing. Receiving missions from Valentina’s team, having to travel the globe in order to save innocent civilians? That was a whole other can of worms that they’d popped open without thinking of the consequences.

The amount of missions the team was needed on was slowly ramping up, going from just two a month to now almost four in just the last month. The entire team wasn’t always needed for certain mission: Bucky, Yelena and yourself had been sent on solo missions, while Alexei had tagged along with John and Ava on others (much to their dismay at times). There was always one agreed-upon rule: Bob was staying in the Watchtower.

It’s not that the team didn’t want Bob with them, because everyone did. They knew he wanted to feel wanted and feel useful, that he didn’t want to simply do the dishes after dinner every night and read through every book that had accumulated in his room. The problem came down to control. When they had fully explained what had happened that day in New York to him, the Void and how he became his worst fears, the small sense of control he seemed to have over his powers had slipped. His worst fear had quickly become losing control once again and hurting his team, hurting the people of the city.

You, though, had another idea.

“I think it’s time, Lena,” you tried to reason with her that night in the kitchen, the pair of you working on the load of dirty dishes together. Yelena cleaned while you dried them and put them away, working in tandem just as you had for many years within the Red Room, memories you both wanted to forget. “Bob is capable of controlling it, I know he is, he just needs help. Just let me train him, show him some basics and help him find that sense of control again.”

“And if he loses control? If the Void takes over his mind again?”

“I’m not scared of him,”

Yelena scoffed, shooting a smirk toward her oldest friend before focusing back on the dishes before them, hoping to finish them sooner rather than later.

“Just because you have a little soft spot for Bob doesn’t mean your idea is the best idea,”

“I’m not asking any of you to help me,” you shot back, bumping your hip against hers with a pointed look for her comment about your soft spot for Bob. “Just trust that I can do it. I believe in Bob, and that’s enough for me to try.”

Yelena paused at the sink, quietly watching as you placed the dishes up into the cabinet where they typically went, and let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“Fine, but it’s on you if it goes wrong,”

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Convincing Yelena was the part that you knew would be easy. You’d grown up just houses down from her, Natasha and Alexei, kept there under the watchful eye of your own Red Room spy posing as your mother. You’d escaped America with them, been trained through the Red Room and escaped mind control with Yelena by your side, and brought down Dreykov once and for all with her, too. There weren’t many people Yelena trusted in the world, but you were one of the very few. You knew it might take slight convincing, but she’d ultimately trust your judgement in the end.

Now, convincing Bob was a whole other story, one you knew wouldn’t be easy.

“No uh, no way,” you sighed, watching Bob pace his bedroom and wring his hands together. He glanced at you for just a second before shaking his hand again. “Using my powers means being the Sentry and I can’t be the Sentry without…you know…”

“And it’s been months since there’s been any incident, Bob,” you tried to explain to him softly. Without giving him a chance to pull away you reached forward, silently taking his tense hands in your own and squeezing them. “Look, you’re holding my hands and I’m not being transported into any shame room!”

Bob tried his best to laugh at your attempt to lighten his mood. His cheeks flushed a bright red as he pulled his hands from your own, shaking his head as he sat back down on his bed, picking back up the book he had been reading before you’d come in and pitched your idea to him.

You took a deep breath, wracking your brain for any idea to hopefully convince Bob that this was good for him, that learning control again would be good. The cover of the book in his hands distracted you, a smile crossing your lips in an instant as you recognized it.

“I remember buying that for you last month, along with the rest of the series,” you told him gently, sitting down on the bed beside him and gesturing to the book. “Seems like you’re enjoying it, since I’m pretty sure that’s book three.”

“It’s not bad. Helps pass the time,” Bob shrugged, looking back to you with a shy smile. “You have good taste.”

With a shared smile between you both, you bumped your shoulder with his lightly, glancing down at the book before looking back to his eyes. God, were you fond of those blue eyes.

“You trusted my book recommendations…can you trust me on anything else?”

Bob didn’t hesitate before speaking again.

“I trust you more than anyone,”

The way he said it, so sure of himself, made your smile grow even wider.

“Then trust me when I tell you that this could be good for you. Learning control again will help you, even just the smallest bit of practice and control can be good for you. Please, just try? For me?”

It was quiet between you both for a moment, eyes never leaving one another, before Bob’s voice came out softer than it had before.

“Yeah…yeah, okay. Let’s try,”

It was a process…a long process to say the least. It took almost two weeks before you could even get Bob fully comfortable in the full gym that tower had for him to even consider channeling his powers again. He never liked going to the training room when John and Alexei were there, Walker always managing to make snide comments toward Bob. You knew Walker cared, he just hated wearing it on his sleeve and masked it instead, but that didn’t mean you appreciated the small remarks.

Instead, you’d gotten Bob comfortable with heading to the training room whenever Bucky and Ava were sparring, the pair tending to leave you both alone unlike your other friends.

“I know you can do it. Just focus on it, channel your energy into it, and command your mind to do what you want it to do,”

You didn’t have an extension range of powers the way that Bob did, so you weren’t entirely sure that what you were instructing Bob to do was actually helpful to helping him learn control, or even get comfortable with his powers again. But he was trying, and that was enough for you.

Bob took a deep breath beside you, focusing in on the 20 pound medicine ball on the ground across the room from the two of you. He held his hand out, making your mind flashback to that day in the tower when you were forced to fight against him, something you had refused to do, and you saw the furrow in his brows as he tried to focus in and command the ball to move. There was silence in the room, besides the sound of Ava and Bucky talking across the room.

You watched Bob in silence as he seemed to grow more frustrated, desperately trying to move the ball across the room toward you both. You placed your hand on his arm, thumb gently rubbing across his skin in the most gentle and comforting way you could muster, tone hushed as you spoke just to him.

“You can do this Bob, just focus. You can do it,”

The tenseness in his body seemed to leave him at your words and your touch. Bob pulled his hand back in toward him, and for just a second, he was delighted as the weighted exercise ball finally moved across the floor.

Until it stopped just an inch after moving.

Bob’s head was buried in his hands in seconds, and you could see the deep flush in his cheeks through the cracks in his fingers as he mumbled to himself. You couldn’t entirely hear him, but you could make out the words “mistake” and “useless” clear as day as your hand made its way to his back, rubbing it comfortingly.

John Walker’s obnoxious laughter from the doorway cut through the silence of the room before you could encourage Bob to try again.

“Wow! I thought after a few weeks you’d have his control and powers in better shape there, Widow,” John whistled, stepping slightly further in through the doorway. You could hear Ava mumbling to Bucky about how this wouldn’t but good, but John didn’t seem to care. “I mean an inch! Wow! I mean hey, it’s not all about size right?”

“Walker, that’s enough-”

You tuned out Bucky’s scolding of John, looking back to Bob. His hands had left his face, his eyes trained on the ground, as he continued to mumble to himself about how he was useless. Your blood boiled in an instant, reaching down to take one of Bob’s hands in your own and squeeze it in comfort as you turned your glare back to John.

“Hey Walker? How about you shut it, yeah? If I wanted to hear an ass’s opinion I’d take myself down to the zoo and ask the fucking donkeys,”

John laughed again, shrugging off Bucky as he tried to place a hand on his shoulder, pointing over at you. Your hand tightened around Bob’s as he did.

“Want to say that again, Widow?”

“Ex-Widow, thank you very much. You should remember that your dick belongs in your pants and not in your personality,”

“Keep running your mouth. This little experiment here of yours isn’t good for anyone. Just because you’ve got a little soft spot for Bobby boy here doesn’t mean-”

Walker was cut off as the medicine ball Bob had been trying to move was flung across the room, narrowly missing his head and embedding itself in the doorframe behind him, shattering and splintering the wood and burying itself in the wall. Ava’s gasp was the only other sound as Bucky grabbed Walker almost by the back of his neck, shoving him out of the room with a gruff comment of “let’s go” as Ava followed behind.

Your eyes finally left the piece of exercise equipment now one with the wall of the room, gaze turning back to Bob. His hand was held up in the direction the ball had flown, but it was shaking slightly. You trailed your gaze up to his eyes to see he was already looking down at you, eyes blown wide as she stammered over his words.

“I wasn’t, that- that was a mistake. I didn’t- I really didn’t mean to do that he was, he was just- he’s such an asshole sometimes-”

Your laughter cut him off, pausing him in the middle of his tracks as you gripped his hand tighter, forehead falling against his shoulder as he stiffened for a moment, before relaxing and smiling slightly at the sound of your laughter ringing through the room.

“Oh my god, Bob, that was brilliant! I’m going to use that idea next time Walker decides to be a dick to mask his own troubles, that shut him right up!”

“I didn’t mean to, though,” he quickly backtracked, shaking his head as you lifted your head, looking up at him, though still holding his hand tightly. “It was a mistake.”

“Mistakes happen. We’re human, it’s natural,” she smiled at him, tilting her head toward the ball. “Now…do it again.”

Bob stared at her for a moment, truly trying to discern what he possibly could’ve done to deserve you. You’d stepped between him and Walker down in the vault, keeping the former Captain America from laying a hand on him, you’d almost died in the elevator shaft to make sure he didn’t. You’d refused to fight him that day in the penthouse, trying to bring him back, and it was ultimately you who was the first one to run to him and pull him back from the Void.

When he looked at you, he could feel the flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. He knew what it meant, but he couldn’t find the words to say it. It was in thinking of that four letter word while staring down at you that he’d pulled the ball right back to the two of you, letting it hang in the air before you both for a moment before dropping it to the ground.

Your eyes had never left his, your smile only growing wider and your fingers slotting between his own.

“Not bad, Bob. Not bad,”

It was a month later that your idea would be fully put to the test.

HYDRA was the most stubborn organization, like an insect that just refused to die. Steve Rogers couldn’t stop them in the 40’s, and there was no stopping them now. They’d rebuilt momentum as an organization during the Blip, with cells popping up around the country. It didn’t take long for information to come in about their new main base; an underground compound hidden within the Five Ponds Wilderness in upstate New York. The New Avengers had been tasked with infiltrating and dismantling the base, taking in as many soldiers within for questioning by the US government, and recovering any intel that they’d managed to steal during their rebuild time.

It was an all hands on deck operation, the team knowing it was going to take all of them in order to fully infiltrate and dismantle this large base. In your eyes, that meant no one was sitting this one out.

“You guys handle dismantling and capturing soldiers. I’ll handle intel recovery…and I’m taking Bob with me,”

The comment had everyone at the briefing table pausing, including Bob, who had opted to sit in the corner of the room after you had asked him personally to attend the briefing with you.

John refused to meet your eyes, knowing his single apology weeks ago wasn’t enough to calm how angry you still were over the situation. Alexei and Ava shared concerned glances, while Bucky and Yelena seemed to have a conversation entirely with their eyes. The former Winter Soldier was the one to turn back to you, giving you a small nod.

“He’s ready?”

“I think he is,” you trailed your gaze over to Bob, giving him an encouraging smile. “The question is, do you think you’re ready?”

Bob looked at his teammates, his friends, seeing the apprehension in their eyes. But all it took was one look back to you, to the pride and encouragement shining in your gaze on him, that had him sitting up straighter.

“I am,”

It was that simple sentence that had Bob finding himself trekking through the wilderness of upstate New York behind you, decked out in a minimal tactical suit that the team had insisted he wear for the mission. He didn’t mind it, anything was better than that monstrosity that Valentina had put him in before.

“Is this normal?” Bob cautiously questioned you, stopping alongside you in a clearing in the woods you’d finally gotten to. “You know…splitting up? The team all uh, went another way didn’t they?”

“Our mission is intel recovery and intel recovery only, so it was easier for us to head through this separate entrance,” you explained, kneeling down in the leaves below your feet and brushing them away, revealing the steel door below your feet. You glanced up at him, smiling. “This should bring us closer to their control room, which minimizes the amount of fighting that we have to deal with.”

Both of you finally making your way through the hatch and down into the halls of the, Bob stuck close to your side as you guided him through the halls, earpieces in your ears alerting you to updates from the rest of the team. The hallways blinked in the emergency red lights you knew would be going off, signaling that the base was in lockdown mode. That meant your friends were doing their job further down the compound.

You’d briefed Bob on the mission on the very short jet ride to upstate. Taking the separate entrance would mean minimal fighting for both of you, which you wanted for Bob. You wanted to ease him into missions like this, especially when he was afraid to fully unleash his powers and be ‘The Sentry’ in fear of losing himself. You found a middle ground, instructing Bob that you would handle the majority of anyone you came across as well as the intel dump to your central computers back at the Watchtower. All he had to do was watch your back for stragglers.

With the compound in lockdown, most of the HYDRA agents had been pulled to the main fight. Using the tech embedded into your suit, you did a quick scan through the control room door, highlighting the agents that were inside.

“Just follow my lead and watch my back,” you mumbled to Bob, hand on the door of the control room, glancing back at him with a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Within seconds of throwing the control room door open you were inside, launching yourself over the row of computers, legs spread as you took down two agents simultaneously with kicks directly into their throats. You ducked under another row of tables as shots rang out from the gun of another agent, propelling yourself up and above the table toward him. His gun tracked your movements, shots ringing through your ears, but the bullets hovered in place. Bob was barely through the doorway, one hand stopping the bullets from touching you while another held off the agent rushing toward him with ease.

In the signature move you’d learned from Natasha herself, your thighs enclosed around the neck of the agent shooting at you, twisting your body until you were both thrown to the ground, With another single twist of your legs you heard a crack, quickly scrambling back to your feet.

With one agent dead and two down you glanced to Bob, who was entirely fine holding back the agent that was struggling against his powers to get to him. Kicking the chairs before you out of the way, you quickly inserted the USB into the main computer drive, initiating the sequence to download any intel that HYDRA was harboring in the compound.

Bob was simply staring at the man in front of him, head tilted as the agent struggled against his mental hold on him that held him in place. Realizing that he needed to be focusing on watching your back instead of messing with the agent, Bob quickly threw him across the room, the agent’s head hitting a wall and knocking him out almost immediately. Bob smiled to himself for just a moment at the sight; he felt bad for hurting anyone, even if these people were bad people that needed to be stopped. But to have this kind of control over his powers was a miracle to him, something he didn’t believe was possible. And he owed everything to you-

“BOB!”

He frantically turned, seeing one of the agents back on his feet, hand wrapped around your throat and body pressed against the row of computers before them. He could hear your choked coughs from across the room, your feet pushing against the man’s chest in a desperate hope to knock him off of you. It was to no avail, though, as the agent lifted his other hand with some sort of device encased in it. The HYDRA agent pressed the button on top of the device, the entire body of it lighting up red in seconds.

“NO!”

You sucked in a deep breath as the agent’s hand was ripped from your throat in seconds, your own hands flying to your throat as you tried to regain control of your surroundings. Bob with a single flick of the wrist dragged the man aross the room, launching him into the wall opposite you at the speed of light, a sickening crack sounding through the room.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s for just a second before you both looked to the beeping, red device at your feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bob flew across the room in what seemed like a blink, grabbing hold of the device and launching it across the room toward the door where you had entered. In the next second he turned, covering your body with his own as he pulled you both to the ground just as the device containing a high powered bomb exploded.

In an instant your hands covered your ears, feeling the rush of heat from the blast and pieces of debris rush past you and Bob. He body stayed crouched over yours, keeping anything from the blast from hitting you. It seemed to go on for what felt like forever until all that was left was the smell of smoke and gunpowder in the air and the faint crackle of electricity from destroyed wires.

After another moment to recover, you crawled out from Bob’s arms, quickly turning to the harddrive behind you to pocket the USB and whatever intel you were able to download before the explosion. You turned back to the area of the blast, and felt your breath leave you at the sight.

The entire wall that connected to the main hallway was gone, the ceiling having come down on top of it as well, almost splitting the room into almost half of the size it had been when you had first entered and encountered the agents. Wires were exposed within the ceiling, pipes leaking down into the room as small fires burned in the explosion area of the rubble.

“Widow, Bob, answer us!” fully coming back to your senses, you could hear John’s voice through the earpiece in your ear. “We heard an explosion, does one of you copy?”

“One of the agent’s had a bomb, but we’re both fine,” you called back to the team, still breathing heavily as you surveyed the damage before you. “The room…not so much.”

“Did you get the intel-”

“That’s not important,” Yelena’s voice cut off John’s, and you could hear the concern within it. “What’s wrong with the room?”

“My best guess is we’re trapped now, given that an entire wall and half the ceiling was just blown out,” you relayed back to them. “We’re underground so I really don’t want to think about being trapped within a concrete room with what I can only assume is a limited amount of oxygen, so if the three super soldiers on this team could hurry their asses over here and help dig us out sooner rather than later we’d appreciate it.”

“Stay put, we’re on our way,”

“Stay put, as if we can go anywhere,” you mumbled to yourself, tearing the earpiece from your ear and pocketing it, ears still ringing slightly from the blast. “Bob, you okay?”

Your eyes stayed trained on the debris before you even as you asked the question. After a moment of no response you glanced to the side at one of the only walls that wasn’t destroyed, freezing in place at the sight of a black tendril like shadow crawling across the wall.

“I made a mistake…it’s my fault…”

Turning fully, it felt like ice had suddenly run through your veins at the sight before you.

Bob was on his knees on the ground, eyes trained on the floor, but he was barely Bob anymore. Half of his face, of the face of the beautiful, broken boy you’d fallen so irrevocably in love with over the last few months was still visible. The rest of him was bathed in shadows, tendrils of it seeping out through the floor and into the walls, as the Void slowly took him over.

“Bob…” your voice was low, cautious, as you took a single hesitant step back.

He looked up at you at he sound of your voice. One single blue eye remained, tears welling in it and streaming down his face, in contrast to the shadow and pinpoint dot that covered the other half of his face. He spoke like himself, but almost like there were two of him, a low and gruff second voice of his layered over it.

“It’s my fault. It shouldn’t have happened I- I made a mistake. I could’ve hurt you, I could’ve got you killed,” his voice broke for a second, a sob almost seeping out of him as the shadows took more of what was left of him away. “I’m useless. All I do is make mistakes, all I do is make everything worse.You shouldn’t have brought me, I wasn’t ready. I- I can’t hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

“You protected me,” you tried to explain to him, voice soft as you crouched down, bringing yourself down to his level as you held out your hands toward him. “You saved me. You didn’t make a mistake, Bob, neither of us knew he had a bomb. You did everything you could. Please just…just listen. Just come back to me.”

He stared at you, one blue eyes and one pinpoint eye, but your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. The shadows still crept in.

“I’m better off dead. If I’m dead I…I can’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you,”

The shadows crept in again, that blue eye full of tears barely left to look at you, as the Void was seconds from swallowing him whole once again. 

Panic filled you in that instance, at the thought of losing him, and you lunged forward. Your knees dropping to the ground in front of him as you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck as you cried, letting the shadows consume you as well.

“Don’t leave me…please don’t leave me,”

It could’ve been minutes, it felt like hours, but in reality it had only been seconds before your eyes opened once more. There were arms wrapped around your waist as your brain caught up with you that you were still with Bob. You flung back, prying your head from the crook of his neck as you pulled back to look at him, just as he looked back at you with a similar look of confusion.

One hand came up to cup his cheek, overwhelmed to simply see his face unmarked by shadows. His eyes trailed over your face before they flickered around the room, face contorting in confusion.

“This…this isn’t one of my shame rooms,”

You followed his gaze, breath catching in your throat automatically as you took in the room. The grand pillars in front of the staircase, the white and black tiled floor beneath your feet, the dim lighting you knew all too well.

The Red Room.

“No…it’s one of mine,”

Bob’s hand around your waist tightened at the sound of heels against the floor behind you. His hand never left you, and your’s never left him as you both turned to face the scene before you.

You were so young, only 9. You stood to the side of the room, still in your ballet flats and hair slicked back impeccably. You recognized the woman in heels, of course you did she’d been your instructor since you were barely old enough to be molded into one of their assassins. She came to a stop before you, glaring down at you. God, you were just a child.

“You were given simple instructions,” her shrill voice cut through the air as you tightened your hold around Bob at the sound. “A simple task. You have been a perfect student…only to fail now.”

“I’m sorry, mistress,”

“There are no apologies here,” her voice cut in again. “Only consequences.”

Two burly men entered the room, holding the arms of a body not much bigger than your own at the time. They tore the sack upon the child’s head off, revealing her face: Polina. You’d grown up together, progressed through every challenge together. Besides Yelena…she’d been the closest thing to a best friend you could have in a place like this.

Bob’s own hands on your waist tightened as the mistress pulled out a revolver from the waistband of her skirt, loading a single bullet into the chamber. Her gaze flickered back to your young 9-year-old self, glare harsher than it was before as she saw your eyes were closed. “Open your eyes, and accept your consequence.”

A single tear made its way down your cheek as this young version of you did as she was asked, holding back her own tears as she looked into the eyes of your friend, just as the mistress’s bullet pierced her skull.

“What…what happened?”

“Simple…I made a mistake,” was the only response you could muster back to Bob. You pulled your gaze from the bloody scene before you, turning back to the man you loved as he watched you. Shaky hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs gliding over his skin as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bob…we all have regrets. We all wish we could’ve done things differently. We all make mistakes, whether we want to or not, but it just means we’re human. We are not the sum of all of our mistakes, but what we choose to do differently because of them.”

Bob leaned into your soft touch, his eyes never leaving yours. He shook his head, choking on his own words as he tried to find the words to say.

“All I’ve done is cause you pain…cause everyone pain, because I keep- I keep making mistakes. I don’t know how to fix it,”

You thought about the next thing to say, what you could possibly say to get through to him, but words no longer seemed to do the trick. Instead, your hands held tight to his face as you surged forward, molding your lips to his own.

In a single kiss, you tried to convey every single thing that you needed him to feel. The way that you had cared about him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, that one single look into his blue eyes had forever held him a place in your heart before you even realized he was the one occupying it. That in your eyes, he could do no wrong, that there was no mistake he could make that would make you love him any less. That you would walk through fire, cross any ocean, or throw yourself into the void of his own mind if that’s what it took to bring him back to you. The press of your lips against his own, the hesitant reciprocation back from him as he tried to navigate this new territory, his hands gripped onto your waist in hopes to ground himself in the moment, you tried desperately to ensure that he knew everything you needed him to know in that moment.

You pulled away, eyes closed as you felt him lean back into you, chasing after the feeling of your lips on his. Your nose brushed against his, hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair.

“Just stay with me. That’s all I need…just stay with me,”

When you finally opened your eyes, you were back in the debris-covered room of the destroyed compound, still kneeling on the floor. You could hear the sound of your friends from beyond the debris, calling out for you as they tried to move the debris before them to get to you both.

All that mattered was the man still wrapped in your arms, shadows faded away as if they’d never appeared to begin with, leaving behind those beautiful blue eyes that shone brightly with one thing only: love.

“Always,”