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sometimesanalice · 5 months ago

Text

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #rooster x you #rooster x reader

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scarletmika · 1 month ago

Text

Knight in Shining Glasses : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: All you wanted to do was enjoy your first night in San Diego at the bar recommended to you by your father, but a hot-shot new to the Top Gun program was intent on bringing you home with him, or at least couldn't take a hint. Lucky for you, there's a knight in shining glasses ready to save you.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume), fluff, language, kind of a pushy douchebag guy is in this, female reader, language, probably incorrect descriptions of the Navy (my dad was a Marine, I'm doing my best lol but I did do a ton of research so hopefully it's accurate-ish), suggestive and steamy but no smut (but boy did we get real close), like a TINY maybe hint of angst for 0.2 seconds

Word Count: 11,044 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

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

“Another beer?”

You nodded your head at the gorgeous woman behind the bar, who was already sliding a beer your way before you’d even answered, as if she could read your mind. You gave her a smile in thanks, sighing the second your hand touched the cool glass of the bottle.

San Diego was hot, too hot for your liking. Every piece of fabric on your body felt as if it was clinging to your body right now in a way that had you begging the world just to make it legal to walk around naked. You much preferred the weather back in New England, on the complete opposite side of the country, but you had promised to come to town for a bit. It had been years since you’d seen your father, not since his promotion and subsequent move to San Diego, your conflicting work schedules making it impossible to make the cross-country trip, even if you missed him.

You were here now, though, seated in the bar that had come highly recommended to you straight from him: The Hard Deck, located right on Coronado Beach, just minutes from the Naval Air Station of North Island.

“Local beer?” you questioned the woman as yet another group of rowdy, young Naval aviators came bursting through the doors of the bar, disturbing some of the other guests in the packed bar. The woman, whose nametag you could now see said Penny, just laughed at the antics of her new guests before nodding at you.

“Yeah, local company. They’re pretty popular around here, so I always have to keep them in stock,” you hummed, taking another sip of the drink in your hands. Rich in flavor, maybe with a hint of sweetness that complemented the bitterness it left behind. You could see why it was popular around here. Penny wiped the bar directly in front of you, flashing you a smile. “Now, I know most of my regulars here, and you certainly aren’t one. Where’d you blow into town from?”

“Watertown, New York,” you told her as another group of Naval aviators passed by you in their service khakis, older than the group that had just come in. Your eyes followed them for just a moment, lingering as they moved to the back of the room to the pool tables as if they were there every night, before looking back at Penny. “My father is in the Navy, stationed here in San Diego. Thought it was finally time I visited him.”

“Good, means you know how to deal with the rowdy bunch I have here,” you both laughed as she gestured toward the group of young pilots that had just come through. Someone called to her from further down the bar, and she paid you one final smile. “Holler if you need anything, or if anyone’s giving you trouble.”

“Will do,”

With the jukebox playing off in the corner, Summer of ‘69 by Bryan Adams filling the air, it gave you a chance to really take in the atmosphere. Given the proximity to the Naval Air Station, you weren’t surprised by the amount of Navy paraphernalia that decorated the entire bar. Mugs hung from the ceiling with F18s on them, plenty of pictures of those monster jets hung up around the tables as well. And with the clientele that Penny seemed to attract here, judging by the number of young pilots scattered around, you weren’t surprised that this seemed to have turned into a place many in the Navy flocked to after a long day on base.

The young group of aviators, who seemed to have met up with another group of friends, were loud and rambunctious over by the dart board as they took bets on who could make a bullseye first. You rolled your eyes at their antics with a slight smile, reminded of the stories your father had told of his days, and looked over your shoulder toward that older group by the pool tables.

Easily your age, or at least older and more experienced than the group by the dart board. There was one woman among the groups of men with darker hair, already kicking their asses at the pool game they were playing. That alone quirked your lips up just slightly as you watched Penny deliver a tray of drinks to the group that seemed very personally friendly with her. Ah, so they must be stationed here at North Island and be regulars of the Hard Deck.

They were quite the bunch, from what you observed from the bartop. There was the young man playing alongside the woman, and what seemed like his best friend pestering him after another missed shot. There was a taller, tan blonde who you could tell from here exuded confidence in an over-the-top way, and a friend beside him who also seemed to have that arrogant confidence about him. The man taking the tray from Penny and passing out the drinks had that same confidence and charm, but it almost seemed to roll off of him naturally as if he wasn’t even trying to charm those around him.

It was the one sitting off to the side, silently observing his friends, that caught your eye.

He didn’t exude confidence in the same way that his friends did. He wasn’t walking sex on legs like many would think the tall, overconfident friends of his were…but he was to you. Quiet, simply observing his friends with a tiny smile that stirred something in your chest. One hand holding onto the neck of his beer bottle, the same one you were drinking, and the other casually snacking on a cup of peanuts. You tried, and failed, to keep your eyes from lingering on those long, slender fingers of his, or the fact that, even from here, you could tell his hands were large in a delicious way that had your mind imagining what they’d feel like settled on your bare-

Okay, yeah, maybe it was time to say ‘fuck it’ to your no hook-up rule and get laid on this vacation. You couldn’t be thinking like this over a man you’d been looking at for less than a minute, didn’t even know his name, or had yet to make eye contact with.

But then, when your eyes finally left those slender hands, you were making eye contact with him.

There was an adorable flush crawling across his cheeks, and god were you a sucker for a cute man in some glasses. His lips quirked up in a shy smile as he met your gaze, giving you a tiny nod. A similar flush crept up your neck at being caught staring, giving him a small wink before turning back around to not seem like a creep watching him.

With Penny off taking orders as the bar only seemed to get busier by the minute, and no one around you seemed like good options for a conversation, you found yourself spun around to lean against the bar and observe the room. No time like a crowded bar to people watch.

With a few work emails checked to ensure you weren’t missing anything pressing on your vacation, and a text sent to your father to thank him for the bar recommendation, you found your eyes drifting back to that same Naval aviator once more.

The woman had dragged him from his seat, his beer and peanuts left behind as a pool cue was shoved into his hands as his friends cheered, bringing a grin to your face. Your eyes tracked him as he bent over the table to line up his shot, his friends engrossed in a conversation together, but then his eyes flicked up and met yours again. Your eyebrow shot up as you raised a beer to him, a simultaneous encouragement for him to sink his shot and also a challenge to see if he could. His lips quirked up at that as, without even glancing down to his cue, he took his shot: directly in the pocket without interference. His friends clapped for him, patting him on the back, but his eyes stayed on you. Even with another flush crawling up his neck and nerves practically stitched into his smile, he shot you a wink this time, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin on your lips.

“Well, never seen girl as pretty you before,”

You didn’t want to stop looking at that gorgeous man in glasses across the bar, but you were intrigued to know who was speaking to you.

He wasn’t the worst-looking man, he was attractive. Dark hair that matched the mustache and the beard that was growing in, which was definitely against grooming standards for the Navy. Pretty brown eyes…but he wasn’t your shy, glasses-sporting boy across the room. Plus, you recognized him from that rowdy bunch of pilots that had walked in beforehand. The smile you’d given the man across the bar dropped into the smallest, friendliest one you could muster as you looked at the name on his badge: Jackson.

“Well, that’s definitely a way to open up a conversation,” you shot back. The man only laughed, leaning against the bar next to you with a charming, over-confident grin on his lips.

“Warrant Officer Daniel Jackson,” he held out his hand to shake yours, and you reluctantly gave it to him. You regretted it the moment he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, and you quickly took your hand back and slyly wiped it along the side of your jeans. “Friends call me Caveman.”

“Interesting callsign,” you shot back with a fake laugh, tilting your head. “You get that from the unkempt beard that’s clearly not within grooming protocols?

He laughed again, but it did nothing to lift your smile from where it was frozen to be polite. He took a swig from his own beer that he’d brought over with him before leaning closer.

“Funny, and you know the Navy,” you laughed uncomfortably again, taking a subconscious scoot backward on your chair to get away from him. “Brand new to Top Gun, friends and I got in earlier. About to become the best of the best…”

He continued talking, droning on and on about Top Gun and the ‘prestige’ that came with being one of the best of the best (if he could actually get through the vigorous training). In the interest of being polite and not pissing off a man your first night in town, you laughed politely when appropriate and pretended to be listening.

When your eyes glanced back at that man in the glasses, though, he was already looking at you. Back to standing near the seat he’d occupied before, peanuts in his hands and the pool game abandoned as he seemed to be watching you. You gave him a dramatic roll of your eyes, pitching your head toward the pilot still talking your ear off as if to say ‘get a load of this guy,’ and you could see him laugh from across the bar. That simple action sent a flutter through your chest, and god, what you wouldn’t give to actually hear that laugh.

“...I could show you base sometime,” your attention was, sadly, brought back to Caveman beside you, who was still smiling at you as if you were a prize he’d won and wanted to flaunt around the entire bar to each and every patron. “Could sponsor ya for the day, give ya a private tour.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m sure if I wanted to visit the base, my father would happily sponsor me,” you shot back, trying to turn him down as politely as you possibly could. Your comment only seemed to brighten his mood even more.

“Navy dad, you say?” he’d leaned in closer once more, and you were running out of room on the little stool to lean away from him. “Guess that means you know a lot. Dad have rules about…dating pilots?”

Yeah, no, now you were uncomfortable. There was no being polite now, he’d made his intentions clear and could clearly not read your body language. Your body instantly tensed as your eyes avoided his, still trying to keep the most polite smile you could on your lips. Penny was nowhere in sight to help, so your eyes immediately found your pilot across the room.

He was already watching you, it seemed, but when you locked eyes again, he stood up a little straighter, the smile he had on his face dropping slightly. It was as if he could see the way your demeanor had suddenly changed, and god, you hoped he could see it.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not looking for anything like that,” you’d awkwardly laughed out as you looked back at him finally. “I’m just here on vacation.”

That was when his hand settled on top of your knee, and your heart leapt into your throat. The heat of his hand felt like it was burning a hole in your jeans as he squeezed just so.

“Don’t got to be anything serious, I’m down for some fun,”

That polite smile was gone off your face in an instant as you tried to yank your leg from him, but he squeezed it just slightly tighter.

“Okay, Caveman, sounds like you must’ve got your nickname from how you treat women,” that snide comment seemed to drop his confident demeanor immediately. “I’ve turned you down, I’ve made it clear I’m not interested. So I suggest you let me go.”

“Come on, I think you just need to-”

“I’m pretty sure she said let her go, Caveman,”

There was an edge to the voice that cut in, but not one that made you feel on edge yourself. A hand clamped down on your shoulder from behind, firm but not uncomfortable in the way that the hand on your knee was. Grounding, and when it squeezed your shoulder just slightly, it felt comforting. Protective, in a way. And when you finally turned your head and noticed those familiar glasses you’d been staring at all night, and those gorgeous blue eyes hiding behind them, you immediately relaxed into his touch.

Caveman’s hand immediately left your knee as he seemed to sit up a little straighter, putting his hands up in surrender as he looked at the man standing at your side now.

“Lieutenant Floyd-”

“Things are looking tense over here!” those two pilots you’d observed earlier, the ones who exuded confidence in your eyes, suddenly appeared behind Caveman. The taller blonde placed his hand down on his shoulder just as Lieutenant Floyd’s was on yours, and you glanced at their tags: Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw. The blonde pointed to Caveman, raising an eyebrow at the man at your side. “Baby-on-board, is this man causing trouble?”

Your shoulder was squeezed once more as you turned back to look at the man at your side, feeling another flutter in your chest as you got a good look at those sky blue eyes up close, which made him even more attractive in your eyes. He gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward your ‘friend’ just like you had earlier on.

“Is he bothering you?”

You’d glanced back at Caveman, who seemed semi-scared shitless around these guys, and a smirk curled up on your lips.

“Yes, yes he is,”

“Disrespecting a lady?” it was Penny’s voice now as she reappeared behind the bar, her glare set on that poor pilot that everyone was ganging up on. She ‘tsked’ in his direction, before stepping back to point to a sign hanging just behind her. “It’s your first night here, you should probably check the rules before you get comfortable.”

Disrespect a lady, the Navy, or put your cellphone on my bar…you buy a round.

Alright, Penny might be your new favorite person, besides the hot ass pilot in glasses still comfortably resting his hand on your shoulder as the scene played out before you all.

Caveman never even got a chance to defend himself, as Penny had stepped up to the bell hanging from the ceiling beside the sign, the ring of it echoing throughout the bar. Within seconds, there were chants of ‘OVERBOARD!’ heard throughout the room before Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw had the man hooked under their arms, dragging him out to the parking lot as his friends quickly followed behind.

“A-Are you okay?”

Your eyes found your pilot’s brilliant blue ones again, this time in front of you as he chose to now occupy the seat Caveman was sitting in just moments prior. You simply stared at him for a moment, still trying to process the entire interaction, before a smile stretched wide across your face.

“You know, I thought the Knight in all the fairytales was wearing shining armor?” you posed it like a question, a teasing tone present in your words as you took a quick swig of your beer, eyes never leaving his, and your smile turning into a slight smirk. “Didn’t know mine was going to come bearing shining glasses, instead.”

He’d laughed, that laugh just minutes ago you would’ve burned this bar down to hear, and my god, did you adore it. You adored it more than you should, given that you still didn’t know this mystery man’s name.

“No woman deserves to be treated like that, ma’am,” he tried to dismiss you, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as your eyes trailed over those hands once again, now that they were so close. You could see the redness in his cheeks from this close now, too. “T-The way he was acting, my mom would’ve torn me a new one if I didn’t step in.”

“And is that the only reason?” you quipped back immediately, placing your beer down on the counter just so you could really look at him, study him. “That you stepped in?”

You could see the way he hesitated for a moment, but not as if he didn’t want to answer you. No, you could see that flush deepening in his skin: you were flirting with him, and he knew it, he just didn’t know how to handle it.

“N-No, no, that’s not the only reason,” there was a shy smile on his face as he huffed out a sheepish laugh, looking down at his lap for a moment, before looking back to you. “I should actually thank him, his incompetence gave me the balls to come over here and talk to you.”

He’d made you laugh, a boisterous one that caught the attention of a few lingering around the area of the bartop you were sat at, and you knew already that you were screwed when it came to this man. You’d offered your name immediately after that, a hand out to shake, and he took it in his own as he gave his name: Bob Floyd.

You tried desperately not to think about the way his hand had felt against yours, or the way it had absolutely engulfed your hand due to its sheer size alone. You forced your gaze to the badges that adorned the left side of his khaki uniform, glancing back up at him with a grin as you pulled your hand away.

“So, a Lieutenant?” you commented, gesturing toward the two silver bars on the collar of his uniform, before pointing with your beer bottle to the golden wings centered above his heart. “Flight officer badge. You’re a Weapons Systems Officer?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he gave you another kind grin as Penny swung by quickly, shooting a wink in both of your directions as you slid you both another beer each, muttering something about it being on the house. Bob took his with a sheepish smile, thanking Penny quietly before his attention refocused on you. “Top Gun graduate.”

“Ah, that and the rank explain why Caveman was so scared shitless to see you and your friends,” he’d laughed again at that comment as you finished off the last of your beer, a sly smirk appearing as it was hard to miss the way that Bob’s eyes flickered down to your neck as you tilted you head back to finish off the bottle. “Typically, you’re only recalled here for special detachments and sent home to your squadrons, unless you’re here to train newbies like our friend in the sand outside.”

“We were brought in for a mission months ago,” Bob’s attention was turned away as Lt. Seresin and Lt. Bradshaw reentered the bar. They both gave you polite waves that you happily returned for what they’d done for you, before making the most obvious of kissy faces toward Bob that had him shaking his head in embarrassment. You tried to hold in your laughter for his own sake. “They thought we had good team dynamics, so they formed a special squadron to keep us in town for a while. VFA-73 Dagger Squad, at your service.”

“Well, cheers to you all and a sincere thanks for your service,” he happily clinked the top of his bottle against your own. “Must be one special group to get a new squadron formed, no less made up of the best of the best.”

“Oh, they’re special, alright,”

You’d quickly come to learn in the next few minutes that Bob Floyd might’ve been the quieter one of his friends, but he was just as charming as the rest seemed to be. Honestly, you weren’t sure he understood just how charming he really was. He’d pointed across the bar toward his friends, naming off their names and the callsigns that you were sure to remember more easily. With each name, he seemed to easily have a story or a quick-witted quip about each one (including the embarrassing story of his Bob ended up his callsign and how Hangman had turned it into baby-on-board) that had you progressively laughing harder, leaning further toward him. You were seated facing one another, bodies angled directly at the other, and his knee was just barely brushing up against yours now with each laugh shared.

“Hangman seems like a piece of work, but I bet he’s got a soft side buried somewhere down in there,” you’d shot back, turning Bob’s attention back to you as you leaned closer to him with a grin, launching into a story that Bob seemed gripped to, an easy smile on his own face. “My dad’s the same way, took my Uncle Solomon–not my real Uncle, but kind of chosen Uncle–to break him down a little bit, get him to loosen up more.”

“So, your father was in the Navy?”

“Still is, reason that I’m in town right now,”

With Bob this close, you were losing focus fast. The way he hung onto every word that you said, seemed to genuinely care about what you had to say, had a flutter flying through your chest that you hadn’t felt since your first boyfriend back in high school. Sure, you’d had your fair share of relationships in adulthood, but nothing that clicked, no one that made your heart soar or made you want to ‘pop your foot’ as Princess Mia always said in your favorite childhood movie. You were starting to understand her logic, though, because every second around this charming knight in shining glasses had you ready to throw caution to the wind.

So, with a little boost of confidence fueled by the third beer in your hand and the adorable sight of a blush on the Naval aviator’s face, you moved even closer. Your leg slotted itself between his, pressed between his thighs as your foot rested against the bottom rungs of his chair. You could see him freeze for just a second as his eyes followed you, not apprehensive, but just unsure, like he’d never been here before. With your beer pushed off to the side, not seeing a need for any more liquid courage, your elbow came to rest on the bartop and your head on top of your hand, allowing you to look up at the handsome man before you and watch as he visibly swallowed the lump in his throat.

God, that really had no right to be as hot as it was.

“S-So, he’s stationed here on North Island?”

“Maybe,” you shot back with a smirk, one that brought an easy smile back to his lips as he could surely hear the teasing tone laced through your words as you kept your answer vague. “I’d prefer not to talk about my dad, though, when I could be hearing more about the incredibly handsome WSO who saved this poor damsel in distress.”

Another easy laugh was shared between you both before the floodgates seemed to open up.

Bob had no issue telling you all about his childhood. He’d grown up in Montana, on a ranch somewhere on the outskirts of Bozeman, which prompted a lengthy debate on whether or not he qualified as a cowboy or not (you thought he did, and when he confessed to owning a few cowboy hats, you declared yourself the winner of the debate). His mother and father, Bonnie and Owen Floyd, had three daughters before finally having Bob, their youngest: Laura, and the twins Sophia and Sierra. He’d recounted a story from back in high school when they’d taken a trip to Yellowstone National Park for Bob’s birthday, at his request, where his oldest sister had gotten yelled at by a park ranger for stepping way too close to one of the hot springs.

“That’s, like, impossible to do!” you’d almost shouted through the bar incredulously as Bob laughed at your reaction. “All you have to do is stay on the guided paths, right?”

“That’s what I said!” Bob managed to explain through his own laughter. “Laura swore she saw a bald eagle and was just trying to get a closer look. She then, unbelievably, yelled back at the ranger about how one day she was going to be a conservationist and work there.”

“In the nicest way…she sounds like a piece of work sometimes,”

“No offense taken, the whole family agrees. I like to say she took all the extrovertedness in the family so that there was none left for me,”

Your lips quirked into another bright smile at that, tone slightly teasing once more, but in a soft way.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem so introverted around me,”

Bob paused at that, that adorable blush still ever present in his skin, as his lips quirked up just slightly higher than they were before.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t,” he’d shyly managed to say, eyes never straying from yours. “You make it easy.”

With more shared laughter, two hearts fluttering just from conversation alone, Bob even told you the story of how he’d decided to join the Navy. He’d been with his father one day, the family truck getting worked on at the local shop, and his dad had slid him some money to grab them both some snacks from the pharmacy a few doors down. Bob had only been around 10 at the time. In between those two buildings, though, had been a Navy recruitment center where he’d overheard the conversation inside with some high school students, and the rest was history. He suddenly had every book known to man about the Navy, was watching every movie that even mentioned the Navy in passing, and had sheepishly admitted to even starting a collection of model planes he’d built, dreaming one day of flying them.

God, if that wasn’t somehow the cutest story in the world, but also the hottest moment of vulnerability you’d seen from a man your age in years, you were practically ready to swoon and drop to the floor right there in the middle of the bar. You had a feeling that Penny wouldn’t take kindly to that, even if she seemed to like you and Bob’s friend group.

In turn, you’d told Bob everything about yourself, too. Growing up in a town in New York that felt more like it was part of Canada than New York, given your proximity to the border. You were an only child, your father (who had you skirting around any details that Bob asked about him) was too focused on his career to think about having another kid. But he always swore that you were enough for him. His workaholic nature and deep love for the Navy and moving up the ranks strained the relationship he had with your mother until they divorced. How you never got to see him often, but he always managed to call at least once a week to talk to his ‘perfect girl.’

With the depressing comparison of your childhoods and family dynamics, you’d told him the happy stories and memories, too. Ones that you didn’t normally divulge to a man you had just met. You’d been on a softball team all through high school with your best friends, won multiple championships, and even gotten a scholarship to Boston University because of it. There were multiple stories about how your parents always bribed you with Cold Stone Creamery, and how it was still your favorite ice cream place today. That time your friends had gotten caught sneaking alcohol into the punch bowls at prom (that story had Bob laughing, as he recounted a similar one that Hangman had told them from his high school days). And, of course, the thrilling stories of your very mundane marketing job back in your hometown, the one you never managed to escape.

“You at least like your job, though, right?” Bob had asked, and with the way you were now sitting together, it would probably be more comfortable and practical to just climb into his lap and use him as a chair. Legs still wound around one another, both leaning against the bar with beers long forgotten, faces entirely too close together as you sat in your own bubble together. The sun had long since gone down, as it had still been in the beginning stages of setting when you’d first entered the bar.

One hour, two? You had no clue how long you’d been talking to Bob Floyd, but every part of you wanted to talk to him for the rest of the night and beyond. It was easy, it was comfortable, and you felt more respected in the entirety of this conversation than you did on any Tinder date you’d been on in years. Safe. That’s what you felt. You felt safe around Bob Floyd, a feeling that was a hot commodity in today's dating climate.

“I do. I went to school for it, so I hope I like it,” your eyes drifted to the bartop, finger absentmindedly tracing the water ring left around your discarded beer bottle. “Pays well, very well. Just want to do it…somewhere other than my hometown, is all. Love the company I work for, just want a change. If an opportunity presented itself, I’d leave Watertown immediately.”

“And besides your mom, you wouldn’t uh…you wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind, would you? No like a, uh, a boyfriend…or anything?”

You’d glanced back up at him now, at the way he bit into his bottom lip with both nerves and hope shining in his eyes as he waited with baited breath for your answer. And in turn, you smiled, leaning just the slightest bit closer to him with amusement laced in your words.

“Lieutenant Floyd, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been flirting with you all night. I wouldn’t do that if there was someone waiting for me,”

He laughed then, and you could almost physically see the tension and nerves leave his body.

“Good, because uh, I-I don’t either. Have anyone, I mean,” your head tilted as Bob groaned slightly, running a hand down his face and adjusting his glasses with a deep chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m really not good at this.”

“At flirting?”

“I never really get the chance to, no one ever really notices me,” he’d shrugged it off like it was nothing, but you’d felt a small pang in your chest at that comment. “Jake, Bradley, Javy…it’s always them, and it doesn’t normally bother me. But I…I saw you earlier, and you looked at me like you saw me. Like you really saw me. You never looked at them, you kept looking at me. And…I’ve never been the one looked at like that, not when I’m with them. I’m not the one noticed.”

You shuffled, sitting up slightly now so that you weren’t leaning against the bar, as you placed your hand on top of his, where it lay in his lap. Bob simply watched you, a tiny smile never leaving his face, as you reciprocated the look and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m not one to flirt with a random guy at a bar, or sit and divulge details of my life story to him for hours on end. Which means you, Bob Floyd, are special. And honestly? I’m glad the other ladies don’t notice you, because I sure did. And that just leaves more for me.”

There was silence for a beat before his hand under your own moved back just slightly, his fingers now splayed out over your own, wrapping around them slightly with a tiny squeeze. And somewhere in that small movement, in the looks exchanged in the never-ending eye contact you seemed to hold with one another, something changed. Those heated looks from earlier held a new weight with the words spoken out loud, the tension on the rope connecting the two of you tighter than it had been from the moment you’d first saw Bob Floyd from across the bar, and it felt like all it was going to take to snap that tension was to lean in-

“Baby-on-board! You done hogging your girl over there so we can meet her?”

And…moment ruined. Bob immediately shut his eyes, groaning with a mumble under his breath about how he was ‘going to kill Hangman’ while his friends all laughed from across the bar. You’d simply laughed, leaning your head down until your forehead rested against Bob’s shoulder, his breath and words ghosting over the side of your face as he finally spoke.

“Sorry about them. The one time I have a girl interested in me, they decide to be pricks about it,”

“Maybe they’re just trying to summon you back over, I have held you hostage long enough,” you commented when you finally lifted your head, glancing down at the watch on his arm to see that you had, in fact, held this man hostage at the bar for almost two hours, even though it had felt like minutes.

“Trust me, this was no hostage situation. I’d rather be over here with you,” Bob was quick to interject, his smile seeming to stretch wider as you were sure he could see the flush crawling up your own neck. Untangling your legs, Bob rose to his feet beside the chair as a pang of disappointment hit you square in the chest. That was, until he held his hand out to you with a sheepish grin. “Care to join me?”

You were pretty sure you would’ve followed Bob Floyd anywhere at this point. Was it insane to like a guy this much after barely knowing him for a night? Probably, but you didn’t feel like you’d just met him. No, Bob Floyd felt like meeting an old friend again, and god did you love the feeling. That’s why you didn’t hesitate to put your hand in his.

“Lead the way, Lieutenant,”

There was another round of cheers the second you and Bob were finally in their vicinity, another comment from Hangman about ‘Bobby finally bagging a woman’ that ended with a harsh shoulder slap from Phoenix. You’d only laughed as Bob shook his head at their antics and gratefully accepted the barstool he’d held out for you. Your eyes watched him, like they had been the entire night, as he turned down the invitation to the pool game at hand, taking a seat on the stool directly next to you.

What he probably hadn’t expected was for your foot to hook around the leg of his stool, dragging it directly to your side until every part of you that could be pressed up against the handsome WSO was. When he saw the easy smile on your face and the tiny wink you gave him, you could see any last bit of tension leave his body as he easily leaned into you as well.

They’d all quickly introduced themselves, though Bob had already given you the rundown before. You greeted them politely with a smile, finally giving them your own name so Bradley didn’t have to call you ‘mystery bar girl’ anymore.

“Well, well, well baby-on-board,” it was Hangman once again, shaking his head as he took a shot on one of his last solids left in play, sinking it easily. “Looks like you snagged a confident one. Too bad, bet I could’ve swept her off her feet if given the chance.”

Flirty. Bob certainly didn’t exaggerate just how flirtatious Jake Seresin seemed to be, not that you were interested at all in any comments from him. The comments didn’t catch you off guard, but Bob’s actions did.

His hand was immediately on your thigh, closer down toward your knee, but resting there nonetheless. Just the slightest bit of pressure, enough to feel as if it had been meant in a comforting gesture, but it inherently held something a little more to it. Not quite possessiveness, but something akin to staking a claim, to say you were with him and him only. While Caveman’s hand on any part of you had you wanting to run for the hills, Bob’s firm grip had you leaning into his side more, chasing after the warmth and security he provided. It still sent a flash of heat through every inch of your body, especially when you glanced down to see just how big his hand was when it was resting on such a small part of you. You wished you’d opted for the jean shorts you had picked out earlier now just to feel his hand engulf your bare skin instead.

“Knock it off, Bagman. Clearly, she’s more interested in the quiet types,” the wink Natasha sent your way made you laugh, a similar chuckle coming from Bob at his front-seater’s comments, as she whacked Hangman over the shoulder. While lining up to take her own shot in the game, you saw her catch the way Bob’s hand rested on your leg, and a flash of surprise followed by pride seemed to cross her features. “So, never seen you around before. What brings you to Fightertown?”

“Visiting my dad for a few weeks, he’s stationed here on North Island. But…I’m also here for work,” you could see Bob’s head turn to look at you curiously from the corner of your eye, but you kept your gaze on Natasha. “The marketing firm I work for has a branch out here in San Diego, over in Chula Vista. They know I’ve been looking to move, so they thought I should come check out their set-up out here to see if I liked it enough to take their offer.”

There was a squeeze to your thigh as you turned your attention back to Bob, who was looking at you quizically.

“You didn’t mention that before,”

“Wasn’t sure I was going to take their offer earlier,” you shrugged innocently. “San Diego is hot, I’m not built for this weather.”

“But you…think you might take it now?”

You bit into your bottom lip, leaning just a fraction closer to Bob as you tried to hold back your grin as you replied.

“Well…maybe I found another enticing reason to hang around San Diego for a while,”

There was a low murmur of laughter throughout the group at your words, that gorgeous redness settling back into Bob’s cheeks, and you could hear Fanboy mumble out just loud enough a ‘damn, she’s good at this’ comment.

The group asked their questions, and you answered happily. Where you were from, what all your job entailed, even the stupid little questions like who your celebrity crush was or if you ever thought about joining the Navy like your father.

All the while, Bob never strayed from your side. His thumb had been rubbing little circles into your jeans, just firm enough to feel it on your skin each time the digit moved back and forth, and god, you were really cursing yourself for not wearing those shorts right now. At some point, during a pool rematch between Rooster and Coyote, your head had found it’s way to rest against Bob’s shoulder, and after a brief moment there was the unmistakeable feel of lips pressed to the crown of your head that had a shiver running down your spine and another flash of heat rushing through you, this time heading all south.

Charming, sexy in a quiet way that made him seem so non-threatening, and an absolutely sweetheart and a gentleman…it hadn’t even been a day, but you knew Bob Floyd had already ruined your standards for men. He was the standard.

“Sorry, my favorite fighter pilots,” the attention of everyone crowded by the pool tables turned to Penny, hand on her hip, but an easy smile on her face as she glanced around, eyes lingering on you and the WSO who were still wrapped around one another. “Last call time, going to have to kick you all out now.”

Last call? With a quick glance around the bar, you noticed that there was, in fact, barely any patrons still around. The ones still left behind were already moving toward the door. And with a glance down at Bob’s watch, the time was confirmed: 2 a.m.

“Damn, we almost never stay here until last call,” Rooster laughed, packing up everything on the pool table so that Penny didn’t have to deal with it, Fanboy and Paybackl disappearing after offering to help Penny clean up bottles still littered around the bar.

“Time does fly when you’re having fun,” Natasha commented, bumping shoulders with him before she set her sights on you. “What about you, our honorary Dagger? Need a ride back to wherever you’re staying?”

“Nah, I’m staying at Hotel del Coronado right down the beach. Perks of the job. I just walked along the beach to get here earlier,” your gaze then flickered over to Bob, his thumb still rubbing circles into your leg where he’d never let go throughout the night. “Though it’s pretty late, I’d love if there was some knight in shining glasses still hanging around that wouldn’t mind walking me back.”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation from Bob before he was on his feet, the heat of his hand on your leg disappearing, and then reappearing moments later when his hand wrapped around your own, fingers sliding into place between yours.

“I’ve got tomorrow off, I’ll see you guys on base Sunday,” Bob nodded toward his friends, tugging you even closer to his side. “Tell Penny I’ll come grab my truck later.”

“More like in the morning,” Hangman commented, trying to conceal it surrounded by fake coughs. The group had laughed, the comment spurring another bloom of red across Bob’s cheeks and your own, before he’d tugged you out the back door of the Hard Deck and into the sand.

The beach in these early hours of the morning was quiet, beautiful in a way that only these lonely hours of the night could make it. No distant sound of traffic, no families or rowdy groups of teenagers running up and down the sand, just the sand, the waves, and the moon. It cast streaks of light over the water, its reflection rippling in the waves as they crashed to shore, setting the scene of a picturesque night along the stretch of sand that lasts miles.

Bob had held you up as you removed your sandals, carrying them in one hand in order to appreciate the cool sand beneath your feet. Your other hand still stayed wrapped up in Bob’s, the warmth of his skin a delicious contrast to the cool breeze that came with the cool nighttime California air. Conversation hadn’t stopped, not once, since you’d both started talking earlier on in the night, but this time it was Bob pointing up at the sky as you lazily moved down the beach at the slowest pace you could, naming constellations visible.

“That one right over there,” you followed his gaze as he pointed just slightly West in the sky. “That one is Hercules.”

“Ah, absolutely. I can totally see it,” you nodded your head repeatedly, and it was clear that Bob was already starting to laugh at your response. “The square those stars form, and the little stick arms and legs, definitely gives off a mythological Greek hero to me.”

“Well, actually,” Bob managed to speak through his laughter. “It’s named for his Roman counterpart. Heracles was his Greek counterpart, so they’re essentially the same thing.”

After a moment, you dropped Bob’s hand, turning and angling your body so that you were facing him head-on, walking backward in the sand. Even in the dark of the night, you could tell there was a tiny blush creeping along his cheeks as you tilted your head toward him.

“Bob Floyd, don’t tell me you’re also a secret space nerd!”

His laugh echoed down the beach as he hung his head for a moment, adjusting his glasses when he finally looked back up to you with a grin.

“Guilty, hard not to be with the kind of night skies I grew up seeing in Montana. I-I haven’t…completely ruined my chances now that I’ve nerded out…have I?”

“On the contrary. I have a thing for smart men,” with another wink, you’d spun on your heel in the sand, continuing your walk toward the hotel. “Especially this smart, handsome WSO named Bob Floyd that I met tonight.”

You’d barely gotten a few steps away before there was a sudden tug on your hand, your body spinning back around in the sand until your chest was pressed directly to Bob’s. And before you could utter a single word, his lips were, finally, on yours.

Without a second of hesitation, you fell into him, swept away by the way his fingers traced the line of your jaw, sliding their way to the back of your neck as he held you in place against him. His lips moved against your own with a sense of gentleness that disappeared once it was clear you were reciprocating with vigor, his mouth swallowing yours with the hunger of a starved man.

Almost involuntarily, a delicious little sound you swore you’d never made before tumbled from your lips, swallowed whole by the soft, firm moves of Bob’s lips against your own. A spark grew in the pit of your stomach the second the hand on your waist gripped you just the slightest bit tighter, a spark that was soon a raging inferno that you had no thoughts about taming.

It takes no effort to give in to Bob Floyd, not when he holds you like this. Not when he’s kissing you on a moonlit beach as if you’d personally hung the moon in the sky just for him.

There is no question in this kiss, no lingering doubts about whatever had sparked between you both since the moment you’d made eye contact hours ago. When your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, fingers sliding through and tugging lightly on the sandy blonde hair you couldn’t even see in the dark, and he elicits a groan that has your knees threatening to give out in the sand, there’s no question: there’s a claim. If his hand on your thigh was the precursor, the writing of a contract to claim you as his in a way you didn’t even realize you already were, this kiss was the signature. Signed and dated, written in stone. You weren’t sure there was another man in the world who could kiss you the way Bob Floyd was kissing you, who could ignite a fire that bright in the depths of your soul.

With reluctance, as if it takes the gods themselves to pull either of you away, you part for the simple need to breathe. And, god, does Bob Floyd look wrecked. Panting, lips red and swollen, the skin of his neck and cheeks flushed red, and an unmistakable bit of fog to his glasses. You laughed then, breathy from your own lack of oxygen, reaching up with the sleeve of your shirt to wipe at the fog, knowing that, given how you felt right now, you surely didn’t look any better than he did.

“Well…hi,” you managed to huff out, chest still struggling to get air back into your lungs.

“Hi,” his voice came out almost like a whisper at first, full of wonder, his hand still cradling your head. His thumb was, once again, drawing little circles into the skin right around your ear, his smile wider than you’d seen all night. “I…I’m sorry-”

“Do not apologize for that,” you’d interjected immediately as Bob huffed out a laugh. “Please, never apologize for that.”

“Good, because I was lying. I-I’m really not sorry,” the hand against your cheek left you, taking its warmth with it, before both of Bob’s hands settled on your waist. You tightened your arms around his shoulders in response, sandals having been long discarded in the sand somewhere amid the kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for hours. I…I like you. Like, a lot. More than I think I should for the few short hours I’ve known you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re on the same page. I don’t divulge my entire life story to just any Naval aviator in a bar,” another breathy laugh fell from Bob’s lips as you leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his. “No, I only tell all those stories to this one guy that I happen to really like. Like, a lot.”

And when Bob Floyd kissed you again, it was blissful. Gentler, still passionate, so full of an emotion that you wouldn’t ever dare to call love, not this soon. It was more like affection, adoration, a warmth that had you melting into his arms without a care in the world. You’d do anything, as long as it meant you got to keep kissing this man.

Maybe Princess Mia had been onto something with that ‘foot pop’ of a kiss idea, because this sure felt like that moment.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” Bob groaned out against your lips, hands squeezing at your hips again as you laughed, playfully leaning back to swat at his chest as he smiled down at you, illuminated by the moonlight.

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps kissing me. I think any court of law would find you at fault for that. Also,” you quickly gestured around at your surroundings with a tilt of your head. “Hell of a setting for a first kiss. A moonlit beach in the dead of night, did you walk straight out of a rom-com, Bob Floyd?”

“In all honesty, I was going to wait until I got you back to your hotel room to kiss you and hopefully get your number,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But then I looked at you and…and you were just too beautiful not to. And I was going to kick myself in a few hours if I didn’t kiss you.”

If you were ever asked to pinpoint something you adored about Bob Floyd, his ability to make you laugh with the simplest of things would probably be your favorite. He barely even had to try, and he had you laughing like a little schoolgirl.

The entire walk back to the hotel down the beach felt like a dream sequence, like something straight out of a movie that you never believed actually happened to people in real life. Bob’s hand never strayed from yours, swinging between you both as you kicked at the sand. Every few steps, he’d push you away from him slightly, just to be able to pull you back into his side and make you laugh again.

And somehow, in the midst of the walk, you’d ended up engaged in the most spontaneous round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ questions you’d ever been part of. You and Bob had both been caught speeding during college, but Bob had managed to awkwardly sweet-talk his way out of a ticket with the female officer. You’d been skinny dipping twice before, both on bachelorette trips for two of your college friends, and you didn’t miss the way Bob had to swallow the lump in his throat at that confession (no doubt imagining it). He, in turn, had ended up having to confess the embarrassing story that was him having a crush on his high school English teacher.

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around that,” you’d managed to say through your laughter that you couldn’t contain as you both approached the main doors of the hotel building. “She was at least young, right?”

“Yes, she was in her thirties,” Bob shook his head, obviously amused by how hilarious you found the story. Like the gentleman he was, he’d opened the door for you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he led you into the building. “Girls didn’t look at me in high school, okay. She always offered that I could eat lunch with her since she had a free period, and the entire school had agreed that she was objectively pretty. You can’t blame me!”

“Okay, fine, but you do have to admit it’s a little funny,” you’d offhandedly waved to the concierge, the same one who had checked you in that morning, now working the graveyard shift, before leading Bob over to the elevators. You rested against the wall, awaiting your ride to arrive, while Bob stood just barely a foot in front of you. “As for the girls: their loss. If I’d have gone to high school with you, trust me, I would’ve looked at you.”

The doors for the elevator slid open with a ‘ding’ as you quickly moved inside, back turned to Bob.

“And trust me, if I’d have known you back then, we’d be married by now,”

The second the elevator doors shut, you paused, finger hovering over the button for your floor. Turning on your heel back to Bob, head cocked to the side in amusement, you could see the realization flicker over his face as it dawned on him what exactly he’d just said.

“Oh, would we now? You saying we’d be high school sweethearts?” Bob sheepishly laughed, fixing his glasses as he looked anywhere but you. “That kind of sounded like a line straight out of Hangman’s playbook, and I barely know the guy.”

“Yeah…y-yeah, it really did, didn’t it? Might have to blame the alcohol, I-I don’t typically drink much on our nights out,”

You hummed, taking a step toward him with a growing smile as his stuttering came back for just a second, something you realized only ever made an appearance when he was nervous. His eyes were locked on you as you leaned up, nose bumping his.

“Don’t worry, I found it cute coming from you,” you leaned back to hit the button for the third floor, and the second you did, Bob’s hand was settled on your hip, pulling you back to him. Teeth gnawing into your bottom lip, you contemplated the words floating around your head for a moment, afraid that whatever was happening here was fragile and your words could break it. “When we get up there…do you want to come in?”

You had read it before, about the way a man’s eyes darkened with ‘lust’ or in moments such as this, but you’d never witnessed it. Not until now, and once again, Bob Floyd had you weak in the knees.

“I’d love to,”

“Good,” you nodded. “Just know…I don’t do hook-ups. I don’t do flings.”

“Good,” he responded with his own nod. “Because neither do I.”

“Good,”

The door of your hotel room had barely been closed before Bob was on you.

His hands on your hips guided you, pressing you up against the closed bathroom door just to the right of the room’s main door, and his lips descended upon yours as if he were attacking his target. Vigorous, relentless, he kissed you in a way you’d never been kissed before, not even like he did on the beach, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance. A wanton moan slipped out of you, parting your lips just enough for Bob’s tongue to sneak through, to savor the taste of you. You savored the taste of him, too: the lingering taste of the beer he’d been sipping all night, and the remnants of your own vanilla chapstick still smeared across his lips.

You moved in tandem, like your bodies were one with each other. It didn’t take long before your shirt was off, his lips hot, slicked with spit, dragging themselves over every inch of skin he could get his lips on. Every drag of his lips, every press of a kiss against your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts had your mind going blank, your fingers desperately fumbling with the buttons of his khaki uniform to no avail.

If you just asked, you’d let him have anything he wanted in this moment. You’d let him take you against this door, the wall next to it, the floor, the bed, hell, you’d let him lean you over the balcony railing where anyone might be able to see you both. Nothing else mattered besides Bob Floyd, as long as he continued to touch you, adore you, worship you the way he was.

In the moments it took Bob to maneuver you from the wall to the bed, you’d finally come back to yourself, able to delicately unbutton his uniform and not ruin it, before tugging it from its place tucked into his pants and tossing it across the room. The white shirt he had on beneath it was gone in seconds, too, and god, you wanted to admire him like a painting on the walls of a museum, like he was the Mona Lisa himself.

Like they say, it’s always the quiet ones. You shouldn’t have been surprised; he was in the Navy, after all. But you couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between your thighs from just a single look.

With a tiny yelp from your lips, your back hit the bed, and Bob was on top of you in seconds, drawing yet another moan from your lips. At this rate, there’d surely be a noise complaint in minutes. His leg wedged itself between your thighs, delivering just enough friction to have you squirming, while his lips locked back into your neck. From your jawline, all the way to your collarbone, Bob nipped at every inch of skin he could, blowing a short puff of air across over tender spot before leaving a searing kiss to it that felt like you were being branded. All the while, your hands roamed up and down every expanse of skin you could touch, His forearms to his biceps and every vein that ran along them, popping out from under his skin. The lean body that hovered over you now, nails ghosting along the lines across his stomach toward his chest that had a low grumble emitting from him. And in a moment of boldness, invigorated by the tension that had snapped between you both, your hand traveled lower, just barely grazing over the outline straining against his khaki pants, finally feeling for yourself just how big he truly was. And the groan that left him that time, wrecked and on the verge of falling apart, had a whole new flood of heat rushing through you.

In a show of his strength, Bob rolled you both again with just one arm. Suddenly, there you sat, straddling him as he lay below you, half naked, eyes blown wide behind those glasses, looking absolutely desecrated beneath you. The only sound that flickered through the room was the heavy pants from each of you, once again catching your breath and calming the firestorm of emotions in you both.

“So,” Bob had breathed out once he’d finally caught enough of his breath. “Y-You’re totally taking that transfer to San Diego, right?”

You’d let out a breathy laugh, swiping your hand down your face as you sent him a small smirk.

“In all honesty…I already accepted it. That was half the reason for this trip: to see my new office and meet my new coworkers. Meeting you, though…well, that’s just like the cherry on top,”

His grin was infectious, but your mind was elsewhere in the moment as you took your chance, simply grinding yourself down on the man below you with a smirk of amusement still on your lips. His smile was gone instantly, lips straining to hold in a moan as his hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing you to freeze in place so you couldn’t make that same move again.

“I-If you do that again, I’m not going to be able to stop myself,”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes, because I want to do this properly. I want to do this in order,” he huffed out a laugh. “Tomorrow, my day off. 7 p.m. I’ll pick you up. Il Fornaio, an Italian restaurant just on the other side of the island, right on the beach, with beautiful views of the water. We’ll eat, we’ll drink, and for dessert…a Cold Stone Creamery, barely a minute away. And if I can muster up the confidence to do it, I’ll make you mine before you’ve even taken a single scoop of your ice cream, because I don’t need a second date to know I want this. And then I’ll bring you back here, and then I’ll fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, to be worshiped. God…I already don’t think there’s a single thing I wouldn’t do if you just asked me to.”

If you opened a dictionary, Bob Floyd would be painted under the word ‘perfection,’ and there was no doubt in your mind about it. Hell, he’d remembered the stupid story about your favorite ice cream shop you’d told him hours ago. You were about ready to ravish him on the spot.

“Sounds like you’ve had this planned out for hours now,” your voice had dropped into a whisper, laced with just pure awe for the man below you.

“Since the moment we first locked eyes across the bar. Had to add the ice cream bit in, later,”

And you’d laughed, something you had done all night with him. For a moment, you paused, smile stretching nervously, as something you’d been meaning to say all night, but had been stuck in your throat, was itching to finally be said. It terrified you, but you had to say it. Bob Floyd was an angel; he deserved to know what he was getting into.

“Well, that’s a yes to dinner, and everything that comes after. I’ll just have to make sure to tell my father I can’t have dinner with him after I visit the base tomorrow afternoon. I hope he doesn’t get too upset, you know how the, uh…how the Vice Admiral can be,”

It was like you’d just dropped a bomb, and you could see the aftermath in Bob’s eyes. The way he tilted his head from beneath you, before realization seemed to crawl into every feature of his face.

“The…the Vice Admiral. As in…Vice Admiral Beau Simpson, Cyclone…” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and all you could do was nervously nod your head as Bob let out yet another breathy laugh. “Your Uncle Solomon…Rear Admiral Solomon Bates, Warlock. Wow, how did I not figure that out?”

“Because I was really careful not to give it away,” you’d tried to laugh, nerves only calmed slightly by the little circles that Bob’s fingers were drawing into the skin of your waist where his hands still lay. “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something earlier. But you were so sweet, and not to mention attractive, and it was so easy to like you…I was scared if you knew, you wouldn’t think it was worth it.”

Bob’s eyebrows furrowed as he shifted, sitting up on the hotel room bed now with you still positioned in his lap. One arm fully locked around your waist, the other taking your chin between his fingers to keep your eyes locked on him as he spoke.

“Why would I think that?”

“I dated a Navy man in college; he was a few years older than I was. He was excited for his reassignment; he was going to be training under my dad. But then, I told him that it was my dad, and he freaked. Thought he’d be treated unfairly if his superior knew he was dating his daughter. I just…I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t worth the hassle. I know how my dad can be.”

Bob stared at you for just a moment before he pulled you into another kiss. Softer than any previous kiss the entire night, but firm, as if he was trying to drill something into you. Whatever it was, it was working, as your chest fluttered and your hands wound their way back into his hair. And barely a beat later, he’d pulled back, forehead pressed to yours, hand on your chin, cupping your jawline to hold you there with him.

“If in the end, I get you…anything is worth the hassle,”

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the-shedevil-writes · 2 months ago

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Manchild (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After too many heartbreaks and enough horrible dates, you’ve sworn off love completely. But it's hard to resist when every Friday, like clockwork, Jake Seresin shows up flirting like it's his full-time job. So when you say yes, you expect the worst, only to be surprised when he treats you better than any man has before. WORD COUNT: 3.8k WARNINGS: First date fluff! MC hasn't had a good relationship past (nothing crazy). Making out and lots of kissing. NOTES: Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's new song ;) This is dedicated to my ex who, yes, did wear basketball shorts to dates MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Y/n had sworn off dating a while ago. She had called it quits on the modern dating scene after months of failed Tinder dates and self-centered flings. Men didn’t want commitment these days, and she had accepted that. Embraced it even. There didn’t seem to be a point in trying to keep a man who didn’t want to stay. And one-night stands were rarely satisfying enough to make them worth all the effort.

Working as a waitress in a beach bar right by the North Island Air Force Base didn’t help. She had dipped into the pool of pilots and jumped right back out. After a devastating point of getting her hopes up and being let down by a Top Gun man, she swore never again.

That’s why when Jake Seresin came into the bar every Friday night with his squadron, she paid him no mind. She swatted his flirtations like flies. Even though he was the most handsome recruit she had seen so far, she had gotten her heart broken so many times that it didn’t budge the walls she had built. He was just like every cocky Top Gun graduate that came into The Hard Deck. Though granted, he was the first one with the looks to somewhat match.

He was persistent, but she didn’t mind. At least, it gave her a little entertainment during her shift. Who wouldn’t want to be flirted with by a hot pilot? To her, it was a brief distraction from the fact that men were only disappointments. It let her play pretend for a little.

“How’s my favorite bartender doing this evening?” He asked one day, leaning on the bar with his forearms. This was the start of their usual banter. His blonde hair was a little messy from the day, and she couldn’t help but notice that he had a slight stubble compared to his usual clean shave. It looked good on him.

She looked over at the group of pilots in matching uniforms. They were all indiscreetly watching them, finding joy in Hangman being shot down every Friday.

“She’s doing okay. How’s my most hated patron doing?” She asked while drying a Guinness glass with a rag, not even looking at him. The pilots always came in early, straight from their shifts. Always around sunset, an hour or so before rush.

He put his hand to his heart. “Ouch. He’s hurt.” He said, shaking his head with a smirk, “I’m doing quite all right now that I get to look at you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear, you get all your lines from 80s rom-coms or something.”

“I do have a soft spot for Sixteen Candles. We should watch it.” He tapped the bar, and she could feel his sea green eyes take her all in.

She shrugged and put the glass away. Counting the group of pilots, she already started getting a round of their usual from the mini fridge below. “I’m busy and I prefer Dirty Dancing.” She stated, looking up at him with an exasperated expression. She slid the round of bottles over to him. “Want me to open a tab?”

“You know me so well.” He said, tilting his head.

“I just wanna get you drunk enough that you’ll fall asleep and shut up.” She laughed now at the imagery in her head.

A Cheshire grin formed on his face, and he pointed to her. “There she is. Oh, how I love to make you break.” He said

She couldn’t help the blush this time, but she kept her face stoic. “Your drinks are getting warm.”

“They can wait.” He said with his hand to his cheek now, just admiring her.

There was a moment of silence as she raised her brows and went to dry another glass.

“Never gonna say yes to that date?” He asked.

“Are you ever gonna stop asking?”

He smiled again. “When the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen is right in front of you, I don’t think it’s smart to stop.”

Jesus, he was laying it on thick tonight. It was getting harder to keep up the game of pretend. Usually, it was just a few quips, but for some reason tonight he was on another level.

“Didn’t know you came in already drunk. I should cut you off.”

“Stone cold sober.”

“Concussion?”

“I’m a better pilot than that, honey.”

Why was he getting to her tonight? She had been strong for months now. Maybe it was that new romance show she’d been binge-watching that made her feel a sense of emptiness. Maybe it was because the nights got chilly, and she found her bed to be much bigger these days. Or the videos that flooded her social media of relationships that were way too perfect to be true.

It could’ve been any of those things… but she was struggling to keep her guard up. And it seemed like Jake could tell by the mischievous smile on his face.

“What’s your favorite food?”

She stared at him with a glare that told him to quit it. But Jake was never the type of person to do what he was told. She started wiping down the sticky countertop.

“Come on, humor me here.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. I like a good burger.”

“This is just too perfect. There’s a drive-in movie theater I know that makes a mean burger.” He said, smiling and drumming the table.

“Is that where you take all the girls?” She asked, not looking up from the counter she was wiping.

“It’s where I’d like to take the girl.”

She shook her head, frustrated now, and looked up at him. “You think you’ve got all the answers, huh? All the words to make me swoon, but I’m not stupid, Hangman. I’m not the kind of girl to get swept up in all this and believe you want nothing more than my presence.”

He smirked at that, almost as if he predicted she would say that. As if he had rehearsed this time and time again in his head. “I’ll have you home by midnight. Before then, if you’d like, but if we start pushing ten, we’d have to leave the movies early.”

She laughed in disbelief. This guy had some nerve.

“If I say yes, will you bring your lukewarm beers to your friends?”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

God, that was kinda hot. She sighed and tilted her head at him. “Saturday night. 8 PM. I live at the Apollo apartments down by the supermarket. Don’t be late.”

That Saturday, she had no idea what to wear. It dawned on her just how long it had been since her last date. She combed through the selection in her closet and eventually landed on something she’d at least be comfortable in. A cropped green tank top with a denim mini skirt. She lined her arms with bracelets that clinked when she walked and put a pair of sunglasses on her head despite the sun going down as she did so.

She was mid lip gloss application when she realized the time. It was eight o’clock on the dot. Eh, she probably had give or take ten to fifteen minutes. It’s not like dates were ever on time, and they often got lost in her apartment building anyway.

After taking her time collecting her things into her purse, she walked down the outside steps to find Jake standing by his white Jeep, looking around, blocking the setting sun from his eyes. The first thing she noticed was how he was dressed. He was wearing a crisp white T-shirt that fit him snugly under a brown leather aviator jacket. His jeans were dark and cuffed at the bottom to show his nice pair of suede shoes.

The second thing she noticed was the bouquet of sunflowers, daisies, and baby’s breath. Disbelief coursed through her. He looked like he was plucked straight from one of the romance novels sitting on her nightstand.

“Hey Hangman!” She called, and he snapped over at her voice. A relieved smile appeared on his face, and he slowly walked forward. Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she strutted over and stopped in front of him.

“I was starting to worry you’d stand me up.” He said, “You look gorgeous as always.”

Her face was cherry tomato red, and she tried to hide it by looking down at the pavement. She rocked on her heels nervously.

“Thank you… You’re all dressed up.” She pointed out.

He let out a huff and a confused smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows. But he quickly shook it off. “These are for you.”

“They are?!” She couldn’t help the excitement now.

“Sweetheart, who else would they be for?” He laughed.

She took the bouquet in her hands and inhaled the botanical smell of it. “I’ve never gotten flowers before. They’re so nice.”

“You’ve… What?”

She didn’t notice his confusion and smiled up at him genuinely. “Thank you, Jake. I love them so much.”

He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, admiring her. “I’ll get you flowers every damn day if it keeps you looking that happy.” He didn’t miss the face she made with the widened puppy eyes. As if she couldn’t believe it. “Now come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

She nodded and walked past him toward the passenger side. Accidentally forcing him to rush past her and open the door himself.

“Oh! Thank you!” She smiled naively.

Shaking his head again, he ran a hand down his face. “I have a feeling you’re gonna kill me with all this tonight.” He murmured

She tilted her head, confused, and reached up to put one foot on the Jeep's steep step. The car was much bigger than either of them, and she felt a little awkward climbing up in a skirt and heels.

“You got it?” He asked, coming up behind her and putting his hands out in case he needed to catch her.

She nodded. “I got it.” But as she went to grab the handle grip, her heel slipped and she fell back slightly, Jake catching her waist.

“Oh god Jesus-” He spouted out, panicked, exhaling as she released a loud laugh.

She got her balance back and climbed into the car. It was almost impossible to ignore the spark his touch had left behind from when his fingers accidentally went beneath top. But it was stifled by her instinct to laugh at Jake’s panicked and flushed face.

“You’re too cute, Seresin.” She said, looking down at him now, and he let out a relieved sigh.

The typical confident smirk returned to his lips. “I like it when you flirt back.” He stated before shutting the door for her.

The Drive-In was nothing like she had experienced before. She had only seen this sorta thing in movies and read it in passages from The Outsiders. So she looked around with curious eyes as he drove through the grass field.

After finding an optimal spot for the Jeep to see the whole screen, the two walked up to a small concession stand at the back of the car park. It wasn’t very busy, with lots of picnic tables empty. People were mostly pulling in or waiting in their cars for the movie to start.

They got in line, and she instinctively stood behind him as he looked up at the chalkboard menu. After a moment, he turned to his side, expecting to see her, then turned back around to find her studying the menu in line.

“What are you doing?”

“What?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Get over here.” He said, and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. The leather of his jacket smelled so good. It was covered by a rich, clean scent… Did he spray his jacket with cologne too? She resisted the urge to giggle as he held her, but there was no way to hide the giddy smile and blush across her cheeks. He seemed proud to be with her, and it was driving her wild.

“But what about when we order?” She asked

“What about it?”

“Well, how will they know to separate the-”

His eyes widened, and he looked down at her. “Y/n… Are you telling me you expected to split the bill?”

Her jaw dropped slightly. Honestly, yeah, she had. She was so used to it. She never wanted to seem like a snob or a woman who expected all expenses to be paid for. It’s not like she had dated many men with great finances, and she didn’t want to be a burden. Most men eagerly took the option to split, and she really didn’t mind. She nodded at him.

“I don’t wanna waste your money-”

“It’s a five-dollar burger and shake. Are you kidding me?”

“Uh, no?” She replied anxiously

There was something brewing behind his smile. A sense of vexation that worried her. He shook his head. “I got it.”

They got up to the front of the line, and he greeted the cashier.

“I’ll have the double cheeseburger and… a Diet Coke.” He started, then he looked over at them, “Tell them what you want, honey.” His voice was smooth, and it came out of him so naturally. It felt like they had done this for years. That they were some domesticated couple that was having a night out on the town. Especially when he called her honey like that. He called her that sometimes at the bar, but tonight it felt different rolling off his tongue.

“Uh, I’ll get the cheeseburger and the chocolate shake.”

He smiled. “Good choice.” He squeezed her shoulder, and they paid.

Not even ten minutes later, they sat on one of the picnic tables with a red umbrella stemming from it. He watched as she sipped on her milkshake and looked around curiously at their surroundings. Fireflies flew by a chain link fence, and there was an area for kids to run around in the fields.

“Is it good?” He asked, “Gimme a taste.”

She nodded, and she handed him the paper cup. Again, that sense of normalcy between them made her heart pound. Maybe it was the fact that they knew each other already, with them talking every Friday night for months now. But this date didn’t have that awkward feeling that most first dates did. It all felt natural.

He took a sip and blinked his eyes in surprise. “God damn, that’s good.”

She laughed and took it back, swinging her feet under the table. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her face turn red for what felt like the millionth time. When he looked at her like she was a painting in a museum, it was hard not to.

“What?!” She asked with a pressured chuckle.

“I wanna know what the hell you were expecting tonight. It’s like everything I do surprises you.” He said, placing his elbow on the table and putting his hand to his temple.

She nodded, a lot more comfortable around him now. It was nice. It felt like she could genuinely talk to him compared to the banter-heavy quips at Hard Deck.

“There’s a reason I didn’t say yes to you right away, Jake.” She started.

“I’m sensing that now. Go on.”

“I… I am not used to… this. The flowers. The opening car doors. The whole thing. Guys don’t normally do that.” She explained, “Hell, I was surprised you didn’t show up at my door wearing basketball shorts and a graphic T-shirt.”

His face was horrified. He leaned in. “Guys have worn that on a date?”

“YES! Many!” She said, laughing now. “I-I thought that I just had my standards too high. That those sorta things were just reserved for the movies. Plus, it’s not like many of the dates I went out on were real dates. They felt more like… a means to an end for them. So I figured I’d just quit. Give up on the idea of love and fairytales. And never give the handsome pilot at the bar a chance to make me cry.”

He reached forward and held her hand. It was silent between them as he thought about what he wanted to say. That last sentence seemed to have struck a chord with him. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand.

“This isn’t just a means to an end for me. I hope you know that.” He said gently.

“I’m sensing that now.” She mimicked him.

He smiled at her. “Now come on, give me another sip of that shake.”

“NO!”

Thirty minutes later, they sat in the trunk of his car as the opening to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off played on the giant screen in front of them. His radio was set to the frequency of the drive-in so they could hear the audio from the speakers behind them. There were already pillows and blankets that Jake had prepared in the spacious back for them.

She curled up in the thin brown blanket that he had brought, and he admired how she looked in the silver light of the film. Her eyes looked beautiful as they gazed up at the screen. Then he noticed her give off a slight shiver. She didn’t even notice.

She was too enthralled in the witty dialogue of the movie at first to realize. Then she heard shuffling and looked over to find Jake, taking off his aviator jacket, and moving to wrap it around her.

“Are you not gonna be cold?” She asked worriedly.

He scoffed and continued to wrap the jacket around her. “I’ll be just fine.” He said as if it shouldn’t have even been a question. “Could use somebody to warm me up, though.” He said casually.

She smirked at that and pried her eyes off the screen to look up at him. “I think I can help with that.” She replied before scooting over to rest her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as hers wrapped around his waist.

The blanket, the jacket, and his torso all kept her so warm. It was like her own personal heater. A contented sigh escaped her, and he gently started scratching her scalp. She could fall asleep like this, but she wanted to stay awake and watch the movie.

Nearing the end of the movie, he looked down to find her eyes sleepily blinking. Her eyes were half open, straining to watch. He chuckled.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded, “You’re so comfy.” She murmured.

“We’ll get you home soon.” He reassured, but she almost didn’t want the date to end. Curse her independence.

After the movie ended, the credits rolled, and she clapped. She looked up at him with a small, sleepy smile and those doe eyes that first captured Jake’s attention.

“You’re so pretty when you’re not stressed behind the bar.” He teased, carefully reaching up to brush some hair out of her face.

“Says the man causing the stress.” She replied with a tired chuckle.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, and she sat up just a little now to get closer. Their breaths were both heavy in anticipation. Someone needed to move, but they were both hesitant.

He eventually decided to kiss her forehead. Then move down to place one on her cheek. Then he hovered right above her lips.

God, this was killing her.

“Please.” She whispered breathlessly.

He smirked. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He murmured before leaning in to kiss her.

They kissed, and their lips were in perfect alignment. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he went down to her hips, squeezing her closer. When he pulled her in, she couldn’t resist the little sound that came out of her, and that just drove him crazier. Their lips pressed against each other, and his nose exhaled hard, tickling her slightly. He smelled like a fresh batch of laundry and tasted like Diet Coke. She couldn’t help but run her hands through the back of his hair, which was a little obscene for a slightly public area.

He pulled away first and put her forehead to his. “Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’m gonna need a minute before I drive you home.” He let out a breathless laugh, and that caused her to as well.

After a moment, he pulled her in to rest her head on his shoulder. Her face kept in the crook of his neck. “This is bad.”

He craned his head down to look at her. “Why’s that?”

“I really like you.”

He chuckled, “God, I sure hoped so.” He said before planting a kiss on the crown of her hair.

After a drive filled with laughter and classic rock music, she didn’t want the date to end. Part of her was embarrassed that it took so long to get here. That possibly the man she had been waiting for had been under her stubborn nose the whole time. He put the Jeep in park.

“Let me walk you to the door.” He said.

Are you… kidding me? She was used to men dropping her off and speeding away as soon as she shut the door. Their exhaust pipes smoking her and leaving her in the dust. But Jake was so surprisingly gentle. Yes, he was confident and cocky, but he treated her like she was royalty, and she almost feared getting used to it. What if things didn’t work out, and she’d have to go back to basketball shorts and axe body spray? But she silenced those anxieties in time for him to open her door and help her down from the side, as she clutched her newfound flowers.

They walked up to her apartment in comfortable silence. The crickets chirped, and some horns honked in the deep distance. When they got to her door, she held the bouquet in her hands like a comfort item.

“This is me…” She said, a little disappointed, staring at the ground. After a moment, she continued, “Look, I- I had a great time tonight. Don’t let it get to your head, but I’d love to do this again. But- but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, or if I wasn’t what you expecte-”

He suddenly tilted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes were shot open, surprised, until she closed them, relaxing into the familiar kiss again.

“You off tomorrow?” He asked after he pulled away just so slightly.

“Got a morning shift, but I’m free after ten.” She answered way too quickly.

He smirked, “Lunch is on me then.”

She kissed him again. There was no way she was going back to boys when she had a man like that in her arms.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun #glen powell #glen powell fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman seresin #dagger squad #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #glen powell x reader #top gun fanfic

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 month ago

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Callsign: Heartbreaker [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k summary: Jake runs his mouth. You do something about it.

Hangman was, to say the least, a tremendous pain in the ass. He had been annoying the entire squad for weeks since you guys had arrived at TOPGUN, and that night at The Hard Deck wasn't about to break his streak. Maverick had given you the night off, and you all agreed to meet at the bar to relax, share laughs, and, for once, behave like normal young people and not like human weapons ready to take off.

But, as usual, the atmosphere ended up turning in an uncomfortable direction.

“You know what, Bobby? I’ve always wondered…” Jake began with his snake-like grin, leaning his elbow on the bar and twirling his beer glass between his fingers. “How is it possible that someone so boring, so… a glasses-wearing model, made the cut for TOPGUN?”

Bob looked up from his soda, confused, as if he really thought he'd heard him wrong.

"Sorry?"

“Yeah! I mean, just look at you,” Jake leaned toward him, with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks he’s about to say something brilliant. “We have pilots with incredible reflexes, combat instincts, good looks… and then there’s you.”

The entire group looked at him in annoyance. Phoenix snorted. Rooster put down his glass with a thud. No one had the energy for another one of those nights.

“Maybe the filter measures talent,” Bob replied calmly. “Not cheap charisma.”

“God! What a virginal answer,” he let out a husky laugh, taking a long drink of his beer. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way… but I’m curious.”

Suddenly he turned to the rest of the group, his words slurred with some alcohol already on his tongue.

“Do you think if I walked up to the ladies at the bar and asked if they’d sleep with Bob, anyone would say yes? Anyone? Just one?”

Phoenix, sitting next to Bob, tensed.

“Shut up already”

"Come on, I'm talking about science! I'm sure they wouldn't even choose him in a simulation with limited oxygen."

“Yeah, Hangman. You’re not in high school,” Rooster muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious," he insisted, growing more and more satisfied. "You've probably never been kissed without eyes closed, and I bet no one asked you to a dance in high school. Am I right?"

Fanboy, crossing his arms, decided to intervene:

“Do you have any medical needs or are you just afraid of going unnoticed?”

Jake shrugged in mock humility.

“Nah, I'm fine. I just don't want anyone to get confused and think he represent the standard of what women want.”

Then, with the elegance of a Casanova-like idiot, he turned toward a group of girls sitting nearby.

“Ladies,” he said, pointing at each other with his thumbs, “who would you rather spend the night with: the cowboy with the perfect smile… or Bob?”

The girls laughed, amused by the show, but said nothing. Jake took it as a victory.

“I think you have your answer there.”

He was about to take another sip of his beer when you stepped forward. Without a word, you firmly took the bottle from his hand, brought it to your lips, and downed the entire thing in one gulp. When you were finished, you set it down in front of him with a thud.

The sound rang like a bell.

The group fell silent. Everyone looked at you. Jake raised his eyebrows, puzzled. You stood up slowly, with that dangerous calm that comes before a storm, and walked over to Bob. His eyes widened in surprise.

Once there, you sat sideways on his lap, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He immediately tensed, as if he'd just been thrown into a burning cockpit.

“Hey, what are you…?”

“You have beautiful eyes. Has anyone told you that before?” you asked with a sweet smile, tilting your head.

Your hands gently moved up to his cheeks, as if you were about to fix something delicate. He swallowed, motionless. Then your fingers slid to the gold frames of his glasses.

“Let me get this out of the way, ‘kay?”

You carefully placed them on the table, though your fingers trembled slightly. Not from nerves, but from anticipation. Then you leaned in and kissed him.

But it wasn't a tender or symbolic kiss. It was a kiss with intention. Your lips pressed firmly against his, pushing in without asking permission, as if you'd been waiting for an excuse to do so. It wasn't sweet. It was slow. Deliberate. With tongue.

Bob froze at first. Literally frozen. As if his system was trying to process what the hell was going on. But when you felt him exhale against your mouth, exhausted, you knew you'd broken him.

His hands flew to your waist. He held you awkwardly, and in the next second, he pulled you tightly against him. He sat up straighter in his chair, his lips began to respond more decisively, and his fingers crept up your back as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you through your clothes. You shifted slightly on his lap, searching for a better angle, and you felt him tense even more.

You bit his lower lip. Hard. He gasped, barely audible, and took the moment to slip his tongue in, slowly, uncertainly, but hungry. He touched yours tentatively, then more boldly, and you moaned softly against his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his hair, gently squeezing the back of his neck as you kissed him deeper. He held you more firmly, and your hips moved against him once more, intentionally. He moaned. It was noticeable. And it wasn't from discomfort.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your lips were wet. His too. The tension was still there, vibrating between the two of you.

Fanboy's eyes were wide open. Rooster choked on his beer, staring at Hangman as if he'd just seen his soul leave his body. Phoenix was smiling as if a wish had just been granted. Everyone else watched in surprise.

Slyly, without moving yet, you decided to speak:

“You’re a good kisser, Lieutenant.”

Bob was completely flushed. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he'd just run ten miles. You retrieved his glasses from the table and, without taking your eyes off him, put them on him yourself. You took your time, adjusting them as if it justified touching him one more time.

Then you calmly climbed off his lap. Your legs were slightly trembling, but you pretended not to. As you passed Jake, you looked down at him—because he was always taller, but never bigger—and narrowed your eyes.

"Keep messing with him and I’ll take him to my room and won’t stop until he’s wrecked and exhausted. Capiche?"

Jake didn't move. His forced smile failed to hide the tension in his jaw. Embarrassment burned across his face.

“Oh, and by the way…” you added without looking back “If you want someone to pay attention to you, stop using teasing people as a flirting technique. You just look pathetic.”

The group tried to hold back, but the laughter was too much. Until Fanboy blurted it out, in a broadcaster's voice:

“And the award for the most insecure pilot disguised as arrogant goes to…!”

The collective laughter was thunderous. Jake said nothing. He turned toward the bar, as if he needed to hide in his own reflection.

Congratulations to Bob were not long in coming.

"Who would have thought the shyest guy could win over the hottest pilot on the team? No offense, Phoenix..."

"Do you want any more of us to keep bothering you, Bob? We can do that. Maybe she'll make good on her threat."

Between whistles, jokes, and pats on the back, Bob could barely contain his smile. His eyes never left yours. They sparkled. As if the world had changed color.

You winked at him, flirtatiously.

And that was all it took to shatter him.

#bob floyd #robert floyd #baby on board #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #pilot boyfriend #top gun oc #bob floyd x you #top gun fluff #lewis pullman

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goosefilms · 1 year ago

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top gun (1986) dir. tony scott

top gun: maverick (2022) dir. joseph kosinski

—

bit of a moodboard because i've been missing these crews so much recently ! ( and it's been a hot minute since i've made new tgm content oops )

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun aesthetic #top gun moodboard #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #hard deck bar #goose honks #top gun maverick moodboard #hard deck

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cap-winter-barnes · 2 months ago

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Hangman's Sister (Bob Floyd x Reader)

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

Warnings: mentions of PDA? Little bit of sass from Bob.

The Hard Deck is teaming with Naval personnel when you arrive in the early evening. The drive in gave you enough time to prepare for the onslaught of friendly greetings from the rest of the squad - your friends. Well, first and foremost they are your brother, Jake Seresin's, team and friends. Yet as Maverick's assistant, they welcomed you onto the team as if you were just another Lieutenant.

As it was technically your day off and the weather was overbearingly humid, you'd opted for a small blue summer dress, the colour coincidentally the same shade as your favourite Lieutenant's eyes. As you enter the bar, you make a beeline for Penny, grabbing a bottle of water from her as you ask her how the crowd has been so far. "Nothing too rowdy yet, but then again, Maverick hasn't shown up yet." You both chuckle at her remark before she points out the Dagger Squad over by the pool table. With a brief hug and a smile, you make your way over to the team.

"Hey, if it isn't little Seresin!" Fanboy makes your presence known as the rest of the squad cheer at your arrival. Bob's attention is immediately on you as he takes in how beautiful you look in your dress, smiling as you make your way around the team, greeting everyone with a brief hug - yet your eyes stay on him until you're standing in front of him.

Bob pulls you into a tight hug, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he does so - he's missed you.

"How's my favourite Weapons System Operator doing?" You make sure to hold onto him longer than everybody else, appreciating the feel of him holding you tightly.

"Better now you're here, beautiful." He never fails to make you giddy with his terms of affection. As you pull away, he presses a chaste kiss to your temple - eyes meeting as you move apart.

"Alright, Baby on Board, I think that's enough physical contact for you." The sound of your brother's voice automatically has you rolling your eyes as he pulls you into a headlock.

"Jake, don't be an asshole."

"Sorry Robert, I didn't mean to offend."

"And yet somehow, you always manage." You can't say you're not impressed at the snide remark comes from your boyfriend. The rest of the team, equally surprised at this comeback too. "You know maybe she likes the physical contact with me?"

The group fall silent at this next remark. Your heart thunders in your chest as you stare, shocked at Bob's face. There's a confidence there that you rarely see, but my God, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.

"What the hell did you just say?" All playfulness leaves Jake's voice as he lets you go, straightening his body to tower over Bob.

"You heard me, Bagman."

The tension in the Hard Deck is ridiculously thick, an uncomfortable silence slowly spreading throughout the bar. Without hesitation, you throw yourself between the two men, pressing yourself against Bob as he refuses to break eye contact with your brother. His arm immediately wraps itself around your waist, hand resting firmly on your waist, fingers deftly clinging to the material of your skirt. You lean into his touch, "Bobby, please. That's enough." Bob's gaze immediately turns to you, his forehead pressing against your own as he nods.

"M'sorry, darlin'." A small smile graces your lips as you savour the feel of his lips on your skin. All the while, Jake looks like he's going to combust.

"I'm sorry. Am I missing something here?" Both you and Bob chuckle, leaning into each other's touch as you turn to look at your older brother. The smile never leaving your face. With a sneaky glance to your boyfriend. " Do you want to tell him? Or should I?" A mischievous look passes over Bob's face as he moves his hand lower, gently resting it on the curve of your ass. "Nah, let him figure it out."

With arms wrapped around each other you, you giggle moving to pass your brother as he stares dumfounded, his brain trying to comprehend his little sister and Bob being together.

"C'mon Bagman, we thought you were smarter than this."

"Bobby!"

"Sorry, darlin."

**Author's Note: This isn't my best but I wanted to start writing for Bob because I can't get him out of my head...

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob x reader #lewis pullman #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfic #maverick fanfic #lewis pullman x reader

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thedroneranger · 2 years ago

Note

Bloody Mary or Mimosa for Penny?

Both? Both is good! First up, Bloody Marys! Penny is a gracious human. Not only will she keep your glass full at The Hard Deck, the next day when you're hungover af, she'll serve Bloody Marys and a hearty brunch at her place!

Penny Benjamin | Hair of the Dog | requested by @princessofglitterland

Let's keep the party going with those mimosas, or see what others are drinking!

Tag list: @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @taytaylala12 @galaxy-of-stories @awildewit @shanimallina87 @malindacath @violyn20 @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @blue-aconite @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @desert-fern @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @mavrellover91 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @penguin876 @kmc1989 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @seitmai @abaker74 @startrekfangirl2233 @dakotakazansky @beyondthesefourwalls @bradshawsprincess @damrlova @sweetwhispersofchaos @bellaireland1981 @fanboyswhore9

#daggers open bar #daggers on draught #top gun maverick #top gun #ranger moodboard #jennifer connelly #penny benjamin #the hard deck #tgm #bloody mary #hair of the dog

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pink-petal-horns · 2 months ago

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Dumb & Poetic

Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

You always liked the loud ones.

The guys who knew how to work a room, throw a wink, rattle a bottlecap on the table with a cocky laugh. You’d fall for them fast, just as fast as they’d forget to call you back.

There was something about their edges, the way they caught the light like shiny things you knew better than to touch, but always did anyway.

And then—Bob.

Not flashy. Not loud. Not even remotely interested in taking up space he didn’t earn.

Which, in your history of “types,” meant you almost missed him entirely.

—

You met him in the bar one night, the kind of night when the Navy pilots swarm Hard Deck like it’s their own little arena. Jake Seresin—Hangman—was holding court at the pool table, Phoenix was tossing darts with deadly aim, and Bob?

He was sitting in the corner. Reading. Reading, in a bar where everyone was busy being a headline.

You had a drink in your hand and a headache from someone else’s charm. So when you noticed the quiet guy with the soft eyes and crooked smile trying to make himself smaller in a crowd that prized the biggest personalities, something in you tugged.

“What are you reading?” you asked, easing into the chair beside him.

Bob blinked like he hadn’t expected anyone to approach him—definitely not you, in a leather jacket and lip gloss and the remnants of someone else’s kiss still cooling on your neck.

“Just, uh, Dandelion Wine,” he said, showing you the cover. “Ray Bradbury.”

You tilted your head. “You read that for fun?”

He gave you a sheepish shrug. “It’s kind of�� dumb and poetic, I guess.”

You laughed. It was the first real laugh you’d had in a while.

—

You didn’t mean to fall for Bob Floyd.

But he had this way of making you feel seen—not watched, like the other guys, but understood.

He asked questions and actually waited for your answers. He remembered little things, like how you hated cold drinks without straws and how your favorite song made you cry in a good way.

He didn’t flirt in the traditional sense. He didn’t make you dizzy. He made you safe.

You weren’t used to safe. You were used to boys who recited lyrics and sonnets with the same sincerity they used to pick up the bartender two nights later.

But Bob?

Bob didn’t need metaphors.

—

It was three months in when you finally cracked.

You were sitting on the hood of his car, the stars out, the air between you easy and warm. He’d just driven you back from a beach bonfire, and you still had sand in your hair and sun on your cheeks.

“I don’t get you,” you said.

Bob blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just—” you huffed. “You don’t try to be anything. You’re not pretending. You don’t even flirt right.”

He chuckled, then turned his head to face you. “And that’s a problem?”

“No, it’s just…” You bit your lip. “You’re not like the guys I usually go for.”

Bob’s eyes didn’t flicker. “Guess I should take that as a compliment or a warning.”

You looked at him, really looked. He had this steadiness to him. A kindness that wasn’t performative.

“You should take it as both,” you whispered.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

That was the thing about Bob. No dramatics. No fireworks. Just quiet understanding.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and wondered if he had any idea what he was doing to you.

—

You started to fall hard.

Not because he bought you flowers or shouted love songs from balconies. But because he held your hand like it was something sacred.

Because he showed up. Every time.

Because when you cried after a bad day, he didn’t try to fix it with a joke or a kiss. He just sat with you. Quiet. Present.

Bob Floyd never made you feel like you had to perform to be loved.

And God, you were so used to performing.

—

It was your birthday when it happened.

The bar was packed. Everyone was there. The guys were drinking, dancing, yelling over each other. You were in the middle of it, spinning in a dress that someone else once told you was “too much.”

Bob walked in a little late, glasses slightly fogged, holding a cupcake instead of a gift.

He looked awkward and adorable and entirely out of place in the chaos.

But when you saw him, you stopped spinning.

You walked straight over to him, heart thudding.

“You came,” you said.

He held up the cupcake. “I didn’t know what to get you. But you said once you loved funfetti. This one’s got rainbow sprinkles.”

You blinked back something suspiciously close to tears.

“It’s dumb and poetic,” you said softly.

He smiled. “You like dumb and poetic.”

You pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Right there, in the middle of the noise and the neon and the glitter of a life you were finally willing to leave behind.

—

It wasn’t always perfect.

You still had a sharp tongue. You still craved drama some nights. You picked fights when you felt too seen, too safe, too loved.

But Bob never raised his voice. Never threw your chaos back at you like a weapon.

He just waited. Anchored.

And one day, you looked at him across your messy kitchen table—his hair sticking up, wearing that NASA t-shirt you stole three weeks ago—and you thought, this is the kind of love that writes poetry in action, not words.

—

You used to fall for the ones who made you feel like fireworks.

Now?

You’d take Bob Floyd every time.

The one who never needed to be loud to be important.

The one who brought you cupcakes and calm.

The one who sat beside you, even when you didn’t make sense.

The dumb and poetic one.

Yours.

Always.

#bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #robert floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x you #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman fanfic #Slow burn love #dumb and poetic #Sabrina carpenter inspired #tumblr fanfiction #quiet love #soft boys #lewis pullman #Spotify

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bloatedandalone04 · 4 months ago

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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.

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moon-fics · 2 months ago

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Pepper Spray Lovers

Pairings: Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're a well-known bartender at the Hard Deck and friends with most of the pilots who enter through the doors. However, you've caught the eye of one specific weapon systems operator.

A/n: I'm going to need a break after this one. Holy shit.

It was the same every night for you. Serve drinks, clean cups, chat with pilots, and never give out your number. It was a loop that you found comforting and easy to follow. At the Hard Deck, there was a guaranteed safety with the amount of trained pilots around.

You never have to memorize names because the call signs they have are way too ridiculous to forget. They stand out, and based on their personality, you can match them easily. For Hangman, you chalk it up to him always talking to a woman at the bar, but never taking her home. For Rooster, it's because his mustache sometimes looks like a beak to a bird.

You treat each customer the same and smile when they order. You highly doubt any of them know your name, but why should they? You serve them drinks, and they pay their tab. That's all you need or want from them.

"Can I get a water?" A soft voice asks from behind you. You're cleaning a pile of cups while Penny takes orders. You aren't supposed to be bothered, but you assume Penny is busy. You can fetch some water and return back to your cleaning.

Without even looking at the person who ordered, you grab a clean cup and fill it with water from the water dispenser. You spin around and place the cup on the bar top. You only look up for a second but you immediately stop on him.

It's his smile that catches you off guard. It's almost silly how adorable a Top Gun pilot can look by just smiling. His hair is gelled back neatly, and his glasses are a little lower than where they should be.

"Thank you," He nods while taking the glass. His fingers graze yours, and you realize you're still holding the cup. Your hand flinches away automatically. "Busy night?"

You force yourself to speak because you cannot just stare at him. "Yeah, it's definitely busier than usual," You say while clearing your throat. He nods and takes a sip of his water. "There must be something huge happening for so many Top Gun pilots to be here." You glance around the room to see it practically filled with people wearing navy uniforms.

"I'd tell you if I could," He chuckles. "I'm Bob," He holds out his free hand to shake. You gladly take it, and there's a shiver that goes up your spine at how nice his arms look. Before you can respond, someone is calling him over. He gives a little wave as he parts from you.

Throughout the night, you catch him staring at you. Usually, you'd find it creepy or enough to cut him off, so he leaves. Instead, you try to catch him. It gives you some enjoyment to watch when he nervously looks away after getting caught. After a while, he understands the game and begins playing along.

It's closing time, and by now, everyone has left, including Penny. The beach waves are all you hear as you check the register and count the cash left over. There's still a smell of alcohol in the air, but it's mixed with salt and sunscreen.

After shutting the register and turning off the lights, you lock the doors. Right as you pull the key out, you hear rustling. No one should be out this late on base. So, either you have a wild animal nearby or someone is stalking you. Either way, it could mean trouble.

Silently and slowly, you reach for your pepper spray. You unlock the safety feature and press your thumb over the top of it. The rustling gets louder, and your body trembles from anxiety.

"Do you need someone to walk you to your car?" A familiar voice rings from behind you. On instinct, you swing around and aim the spray at them. "Hey, hey, wait!" The person yells while putting their hands up in surrender.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness to see Bob standing in front of you. You don't put the pepper spray down, but you remove your thumb from it.

"What are you doing? That was so scary!" You scold. One corner of his lips turns up in a half smile that is still charming.

"I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," He explains. He lowers his hands and puts one in his pocket. He looks concerned that you're going to spray him anyway, but you decide not to. "It's late, and I know that sometimes it can be dangerous on base." He mumbles.

"So, you waited out here for me to close up? It's been like an hour since I saw you leave the bar." You raise an eyebrow. There's no way he waited that long for you.

"I waited," He admits with a nod. You suck in your cheeks at how honest he is. It's refreshing but also a bit odd. "Sorry that I scared you. I thought you heard me walking up to you." He chuckles to himself.

"It's alright. Just, next time, announce yourself or maybe wear a bell." You smile.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "I'll think about tying a bell around my belt next time."

"Next time?" You tease. You aren't sure what he means by it, because it could simply be a joke. You don't know if he'll be back at the bar because sometimes people show up once and never return.

He seems caught off guard by your repeating his words. "I mean, it's a popular bar. It's the best one on base, so I just assumed I'd come back," He clarifies while scratching at the top of his lip nervously.

"Would you walk me to my car every time?" His eyes practically twinkle at your question. As if your offer has brought a genuine joy inside him. "You did say it's dangerous on base at night."

"I'll walk you to your car as many times as you'd allow."

It takes longer than you expect to get home. Mostly because you're enchanted into a conversation with Bob way past curfew. Once you walk through your door, you get a sense of excitement for your next shift.

The music is loud, and so are the pilots. After a long day of training and sweating their asses off they've returned to the bar. Not that you mind anymore.

You get to continue your favorite game with Bob as he plays pool. Every time he makes a shot, he looks for you to see if you saw. When he gets a ball in one of the pockets, he waves. When he scratches, he talks to you until his turn again.

This continues until the end of the night, until he walks you to your car.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #lewis pullman

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scarletmika · 2 months ago

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Sunflower : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Mitchell!Reader

Summary: Bob Floyd was head over heels for you from the moment you met. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him. But Hangman knew just how to get under people's skin, too well sometimes, and sometimes frustration hits a boiling point when the people you don't want to hurt are standing in the way.

Warnings: fluff, some angst, established relationship, language, Hangman acting like an ass, female reader

Word Count: 3,771 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

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

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell always had one rule for his daughter: no dating any Military men, or ladies, until he was dead. You’d always found the rule dumb, but your dad was firm on it. He knew what those men were like, he used to be one of them himself, part of the reason he ended up with a daughter of his own. Though he’d spend your entire life reminding you that you were the greatest gift the world had ever given him, and that’s why he was so protective with his different rules as you grew up.

You adhered to them for a long time…until Bob Floyd came along.

Maverick had just been called back to Top Gun for the first time in years, and while he was excited and terrified to come back, he was excited at the prospect of seeing you. You’d chosen to attend the University of California at San Diego, and loved the city so much you’d settled in it after graduation and never left. Living in a city, surrounded by Military men at every corner, and through the years you’d obeyed your father’s rule and steered clear of them all.

You could remember the first time you met Bob as if it had been yesterday. A text from Bradley Bradshaw, a man you’d grown up to see as practically your blood brother, telling you to meet him down at the Hard Deck. That was news to you, that he was even back in the States in the first place, but you also knew it meant he was most likely here on a mission.

“There’s my favorite girl!” Bradley had whooped out the second he’d finished his song on the piano, the rest of the bar going back to their own conversations as the jukebox was plugged back in. He’d practically jumped off the piano bench, rushing forward to bring you into a hug, lifting you up with a spin as you laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Would you believe me if I told you you’re my favorite part of coming back to the States?”

“Absolutely not one bit, Brad-”

“Hate to interrupt…but who’s she, Rooster?”

You pulled back from your brother, shooting a friendly smile toward what you could tell by their uniforms were other Navy fighter pilots gathered around the piano, watching you both curiously. Bradley threw an arm over your shoulders, giving it a squeeze.

“This right here is my infamous Sunflower-”

“You eat ONE of those as a child and get a stupid nickname-”

“I’ve told you guys about her before, practically my little sister,” he pointed off at the rest of his friends, listing them off. “That’s Mickey, otherwise known as Fanboy and Reuben, also known as Payback. That right there is Phoenix, but when I talk about her with you I just call her Natasha. We’ve got Jake, more well-known as Bag- sorry, I mean Hangman. And that’s Bob.”

You raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on Bob questioningly as you realized Bradley wasn’t continuing his introductions.

“Just Bob?”

The man in question seemed to get flustered a bit, trying to speak and not seemingly able to find the words as his cheeks flushed.

“Uh, well, you know-”

“We just use Bob as his callsign too,” it was Hangman that spoke up, clapping a hand on Bob’s shoulder that seemed like it was in mock support. “Baby-On-Board seemed pretty spot-on to call him.”

Your face dropped, already understanding why your best friend seemed to bristle at the entire existence of Jake Seresin. You crossed your arms, shooting the man a pointed look.

“At least babies are cute. They also probably don’t leave their wingmen out to dry, if your own callsign is anything to go off of,”

The howling laughter of the entire group brought a smile to your face, including the look on Hangman’s face that clearly showed he’d been knocked down a peg by your words alone. You took the lapse in conversation to lock eyes with Bob again, sending him a smile and a sly wink.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Bob was head over heels for you from then on.

The team didn’t think they’d be seeing you around that often after that night, until they learned you were Maverick’s daughter. You might not have been on base with them all day, every day, but every second they weren’t on base you were with them all, ingrained with them like one of the family.

Nights at the Hard Deck, beach days learning to work together as a team in preparation for a mission, or the few days some of them managed to get off early enough to swing by and say hello to you at work. You spent all of your time with them, and those Navy fighter pilots had quickly become your best friends.

Many of them, mainly Fanboy and Hangman, had tried to get your number multiple times, to no avail. They were either stopped by Rooster’s protective gaze on you, your own father’s murderous look he’d shoot them, or a simple and polite no from you every single time. Natasha was the only one who got your number.

Bob didn’t think he stood a chance either, having overheard Rooster talking about how your father had a rule for you about dating Military men as it was, so he never tried. That’s why it surprised him so much when you’d walked up behind him at the Hard Deck one night, plucking his phone straight from his hands when no one was looking and typing in your phone number without another word.

Phoenix was the one who noticed more than others, given that Bob was her WSO. How every single time they weren’t up in the air training for the uranium mission, or being lectured back on the ground, he was buried in his phone with a smile and a blush on his cheeks. Or the way he disappeared from the base the second he was allowed to, or how you both seemed to always be around one another now wherever you all were hanging out at.

The bird strike was the first time you’d accepted that maybe you were on the verge of breaking your father’s single rule he had for you your entire life.

Maverick knew how close you’d become with the entire team, and called you the second he could to inform you of the accident. You were already in your car and on your way to the base before your father had told you he’d gotten special permission from Cyclone to let you on base.

You’d practically flew into Natasha’s arms the second you caught sight of her in the medical wing, asking her a thousand times if she was okay and checking her over. Once you’d backed out of her arms and set your sights on Bob, you could feel the overwhelming urge to cry overtake you. You’d stepped into his arms in an instant, burying your head in his neck as you began to cry, and Bob didn’t stop holding you until the tears subsided.

It was right before the Uranium mission where your relationship with Bob changed in an instant.

You were already worried sick, knowing your father was now leading the mission. You’d gotten a text directly after from Rooster informing you that you dad would be leading the mission, followed by one from your father himself to announce it. A bunch of texts streamed in, but you couldn’t bother to answer them as the nauseous feeling inside of you only grew. That pit in your stomach grew bigger as you realized that your father and Bradley’s lives weren’t the only ones you were overly concerned about, but Bob’s too.

You’d sequestered yourself for the rest of the day, ignoring texts from everyone as you realized that what you felt for Bob went entirely past platonic feelings. It was the next day when you’d opened your front door after the doorbell rang to Bob standing there in his Navy dress whites. You didn’t say a word to him, and he didn’t say a word to you either, the pair of you simply colliding in the middle in a kiss that had the rules you’d followed all your life long forgotten.

“Maverick is going to kill me for this,” he’d practically moaned out through kisses as you gripped onto the back of his neck, pulling him back in every time he pulled away for even a second.

“Good, means he’ll keep you alive during the mission to kill you after,” Bob had finally gotten you to stop chasing after his lips, pulling back to see the tears slowly streaming down your face as he gently wiped them away. “Just come back to me…all of you.”

“I promise, Sunflower,”

This wasn’t the first time your father had been on deployment. You’d had plenty of friends over the years in the military, too. This was far from the first time you’d ever dealt with people you care about throwing themselves into the line of fire and risking their lives. But this time, it held a new weight to it.

You were at the forefront of Bob’s mind the entire mission. The moment Maverick called his name alongside Phoenix’s own, his first thought was of you. Of the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on, the girl who had carved out a space in his heart in such a short amount of time, who’d he’d never thought he’d have a chance with, waiting at home for him. For him, her father, and her best friends. He thought of his own family, his parents and his siblings too, but you’d crept right up in there with them at the forefront of his mind.

It was you he thought about as he frantically called out signals for Phoenix when they’d rounded coffin corner. It was the dread he felt of having to tell you that your father and the man you considered your brother were both most likely dead the second the remaining Daggar squad had landed back on the ship. Then, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders the second they landed back in safety with the rest of the team in that beat of F-14, knowing he could keep his promise to you.

The second the team was back in the states and touching ground on land, you’d been waiting with tears in your eyes for all of them. Maverick’s arms were the first you flew into, your father holding you as tightly as humanly possible, before he let Bradley join in on the group hug too.

“Is the cry fest over here done?” Hangman had called out, the rest of the team joining you all as they smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a bear hug of two of your favorite men. Hangman held out his arms, wiggling his fingertips. “Can’t the rest of the team get hugs here, Sunflower?”

You had pushed your way out of the hug and in Hangman’s direction, but his smirk fell when you’d simply brushed past him and threw yourself into Bob’s arms, tugging his lips back to yours, craving the feeling you’d already become addicted to. Bob could feel his cheeks instantly flush with the heat of the public display of affection, of knowing who was watching, but it was worth it for that moment with you.

Jake, Reuben, Mickey, and Bradley’s jaws all collectively dropped as they watched the interaction before them, while Natasha only held a small smirk on her lips, knowing her suspicions were confirmed. The group had all turned back to Maverick, collectively fearing for Bob’s own safety. They may have been more shocked to see a genuine smile of pure affection and love on the fighter pilot's lips.

That night, surrounded by everyone you’d come to love so dearly in the Hard Deck over well-earned beers, Maverick had quickly bestowed his blessing on the pair of you.

“If she’s going to ignore my lifelong rule and date a Military man…I’m glad it’s you, Floyd,” Maverick had clapped a hand down on his student’s shoulder, giving him a pointed look. “Break her heart, though, and the push-ups are going from 200 to 300. Daily.”

Those moments all seemed like ages ago to you, when in reality they’d only been 10 months ago. They’d led to this moment now, as you stepped into the Hard Deck on a busy Wednesday night later than usual because of work, trying to spot your group of pilots in the distance. Thankfully for you, they’d all been assigned to stay at Top Gun for an extended period of time, still learning more and more from Maverick as Cyclone had determined there was much more his top students could learn. For you, that meant having your best friends around every single day.

“Sunflower! How nice of you to join us!” Natasha had called out with a laugh, handing you one of the beers she’d grabbed for you already. You happily took it, clinking the top of your bottle with her own.

“Phoenix, you’re a lifesaver for this,” you’d thanked her, tipping your head back to gulp the alcoholic beverage. “Work was insane today, for no good reason, too!”

“Your father had us doing 200 push-ups every time we failed the flight simulations today,” Fanboy cut in, walking past quickly as he rounded the pool table in front of you both. “Trust me, most of us would kill for your office job right about now. Bet it’s got air-conditioning.”

“Hey, you guys want to handle company-wide presentations, be my guest. I don’t mind passing that off,” you watched Payback and Fanboy’s pool match for a moment, turning back to Phoenix at your side. “Is my boy hiding around here somewhere? He didn’t answer my text earlier when I said I was on my way.”

“Oh, you mean dark and stormy?” you lifted an eyebrow at her words as Natasha let out a soft laugh. “Hangman was being extra…Hangman today, if you will. Really was digging in on him all day, could hear him grumbling from the backseat of the jet after every comment.”

“Let me guess, Jake is still on his ass even now, after hours?”

“Last I saw, he had him crowded in a booth with Bradley across the room,”

You clinked your bottle with hers one more time before turning on your heel.

“Guess that my queue to go save him!”

Bob Floyd was having the worst day of his life, and it was thanks to Hangman. Don’t get it twisted, he really did love Jake, he was one of his brothers after everything that had gone down on the Uranium mission. This job can bind you wth people for life, and it has for them. Today, though, Hangman was just being so…classic Hangman.

“No, seriously, I think if you’d just given me a little more time I could have had Sunflower wrapped around my finger instead,” Jake commented with a laugh, taking another sip of his beer as he shot a smirk across the table at Bob, seeing his friend’s grip on his own beer bottle tighten. “Oh come on, Baby-On-Board, lighten up! It’s just jokes! Though we’ve got to admit, her and I would be one gorgeous couple.”

“Yeah, so funny,” Bob mumbled to himself as Bradley gripped onto Hangman’s shoulder, shoving him out of the booth and promising Bob he’d go distract him for a bit up at the bar. The second they were gone, Bob was rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, frustration rolling off of him in waves.

He could deal with the Baby-On-Board comments all day long, the snide comments throw his way as he worked his way through Maverick’s 200 push-ups. Hell, he could deal with the four-eyes jokes too. Did they get on his nerves? Absolutely. Was he at his breaking point today? Also yes. What sent him over the edge every time, without fail, was jokes about you.

It didn’t matter that you’d been together almost a year, that you’d been the first one to utter ‘I love you’ to him at three in the morning as you’d laid together in his bed, his insecurities never really went away, they were just satiated for periods. It was when Jake chose to remind him that you were, in fact, way out of his league that they came crawling back to the surface.

“Now, what’s my handsome pilot doing over here all alone?”

It was your voice in his ear suddenly, hands winding around his shoulders and fingers digging into his muscles as you leaned over the back of the booth, hugging him to you. Normally, Bob would be like putty in your hands, falling back into your touch and your words as every ounce of stress left him simply because he was in your presence. Today, though, his shoulders stayed tense as Hangman’s constant jeers and jabs from the last few hours floated around his head.

“Regretting leaving my house,”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the way Bob’s shoulders tensed up instead of relaxing into you, and slid your way around the bench so that you were sitting beside him. You craned your neck to try and get a look at his face, but Bob refused to look at you, the stress of the entire day on the verge of breaking over the surface.

“Come on, baby, what’s wrong-”

“Why don’t you ask Hangman?”

The question caught you absolutely off guard as you pulled away from your boyfriend slightly in confusion.

“Jake? The hell does he have to do with this?” when Bob didn’t answer you, you only continued. “Phoenix said he was giving you shit today, is that what this is about?”

“He thinks if you didn’t end up with me, you’d be with him. You’d be some perfect, gorgeous couple,”

“And what, you believe him?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,”

That was the moment that Bob decided to finally look at you, and he felt every ounce of frustration leave his body as he was racked with guilt and regret immediately.

“Wow. Okay, Bob,”

“No wait, baby-” he tried to place his hand on yours, but you’d already ducked out of the booth and stood beside it.

“No, you’ve made your point,” you refused to look at him now, and Bob close his eyes for a moment, knowing he’d fucked up. “I get it, Hangman can be a dick, but I chose you, Bob. If I wanted him, I’d have picked him, but I’ve only ever wanted you, and I chose you. I don’t care how much of a dick he was today, insinuating that isn’t cool.”

Bob knew you well enough to know that with the way you went storming out of the Hard Deck, chasing after you right now wouldn’t be the greatest idea in the world. It was at that moment that Jake and Bradley came back to the table, Jake whittling at the sight of you storming away.

“Ooooo, trouble in paradise?”

“For once, Hangman, please shut the fuck up,”

If you thought yesterday was a long day at work, nothing compared to the day after your disastrous Hard Deck night. You hadn’t texted Bob a single time, nor him you, even though you wanted to.

You let out another sigh to yourself as you stood at the copy machine in the office, rubbing at your under eyes. In hindsight, you felt that you had overreacted to the conversation last night, and you weren’t sure how to apologize to Bob for it. He’d had a long day, and so had you, and it simply had all culminated in that moment that anything could’ve set someone off.

“Hey,” you turned your head to see one of your coworkers, Jessica, standing at the doorway of the printer room you were in. She nodded her head in the direction of your office. “Someone is waiting in your office for you, by the way. Navy boy by the looks of it.”

You’d left the project on the printer in front of you, immediately walking back down the hallways in the direction of your office. You knew immediately who it was waiting for you, and it brought a small smile to your face as you turned through the door of the office.

Bob was standing directly by your desk with a small, almost timid smile, a bouquet of flowers in his hands as he took a step toward you, you taking one toward him as well.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” you answered, stepping up to him, just a foot away. You took a glance down, seeing him still decked out in his flight suit, straight from the base. “Aren’t you supposed to be on an F-18 right now?”

“Maverick was nice enough to give me the rest of the day off,” he commented, albeit sheepishly as he looked to the side for a moment. “After…the 300 or so push-ups he made me do.”

“Might be my fault there, he called me this morning once he got to base wanting to know about the ‘Hard Deck’ gossip that Rooster was talking about. Sorry,”

“You don’t have to apologize, I should be the one apologizing,”

You took the moment to glance down at the flowers in his hands, a smile growing. White tulips, a common symbol for apologies. Red roses, of course, representing love.

A single sunflower. The symbol of adoration and loyalty. You took the bouquet from him, inhaling the scent with a grin on your lips that he mirrored.

“They’re beautiful,”

“So are you,” Bob took the bouquet from you, placing it on top of the desk behind you both before taking your face in his hands. “I love you. You are, quite literally, the best thing that had ever happened to me, Sunflower. I shouldn’t have let him get in my head, and I shouldn’t have said what I did last night-”

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” you cut in, hands placed over the top of his own as you gazed up at him. “We were both frustrated, that’s all. You just have to remember that I chose you, because I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he’d simply responded. “I’ll always love you.”

Just like that day he’d shown up on your doorstep in those dress whites, words weren’t needed between you both to simply collide together in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of love’d felt for this man since the moment you’d met him into it.

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