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itwillbethescarletwitch · 30 days ago

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The Long Game

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Fem!Aviator!Reader

Slow Burn & Smut

Call Sign: Cipher

I knew the stares were coming before I even stepped off the transport van.

The heat clung to me like a second skin as I walked across the tarmac of North Island, boots striking pavement with a rhythm I hoped sounded like confidence. Not nervousness. Not hesitation. Just movement—forward, always forward.

“Cipher,” a voice called out behind me, sharp and warm.

Natasha Trace—Phoenix—grinned as she jogged up beside me. Her sunglasses pushed up into her hair, uniform half-wrinkled, all confidence. She looked exactly the same. Like home, if I believed in that kind of thing anymore.

“Didn’t think they’d actually send you.”

“They almost didn’t.” My voice stayed flat. “But someone in D.C. wants me out of sight. I guess this is as far as they could push me.”

Phoenix gave me a look I knew too well. Soft sympathy, no pity. She knew better.

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

We walked together toward the hangar. A wall of voices echoed ahead—laughing, teasing, steel-toed swagger and aviators. The squad.

“Anyone I should be nervous about?” I asked, already bracing for it.

Phoenix glanced at me. “They’ve heard of you. But they don’t know you.”

I didn’t ask what they’d heard. I didn’t have to. The Navy rumor mill worked faster than any news outlet. Cheated on. Lied to. Publicly. A man with a shiny rank and dirt under his fingernails made sure I was humiliated before he left the relationship and the country. I never responded. Not once. Let them guess.

“Great,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

The squad was already gathered in the hangar: familiar callsigns, unfamiliar eyes. I clocked them quickly. Rooster, Hangman, Fanboy, Payback—loud, easy energy. And standing off to the side, reading something on a tablet, was one I hadn’t met. Calm posture. Clean lines. Wireframe glasses. The only one not trying to look at me without looking at me.

Bob Floyd.

Nat nudged me. “Play nice.”

I gave her a dry look.

Hangman was the first to approach, of course. “So you’re Cipher.”

“That’s what the patch says.” I didn’t stop walking.

“Just trying to be friendly,” he said, flashing a grin. “We don’t usually get the Navy’s media darlings around here.”

“Must be my lucky day,” I replied.

A low whistle came from Fanboy, and Rooster elbowed him in the ribs, not bothering to hide his laugh. But I didn’t care about their games. They weren’t new to me.

Phoenix introduced me to the group with as little ceremony as possible. “Cipher’s your new wing. She’s flying solo until pairings reshuffle.”

Rooster offered a nod, more curious than guarded. Payback smiled politely. Fanboy seemed unsure if he was allowed to speak to me. Bob—quiet, thoughtful—just looked up from his tablet and met my eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Just offered a small nod.

No judgment. No awkward grin. No I read everything about you online vibe. Just…presence.

I gave him one back. Equally small. Maybe smaller.

That was all.

I didn’t speak in the locker room.

Not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn’t trust what would come out if I started. The squad filled the space like a living thing—teasing each other, trading sarcastic barbs, familiar in a way I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. It was like watching a party from outside the house, lights warm but unreachable.

I took a bench in the corner. Laid out my gear with muscle memory that felt mechanical. Helmet, gloves, checklist. Precision. Control.

Nat plopped down next to me without asking. “You good?”

“Always.”

She gave me a look. “You know, if you don’t talk to them, they’ll just assume you hate them.”

I shrugged. “They’re not wrong.”

That made her laugh—loud and unguarded. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Pairings?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Mav’s switching it up every run. Random at first. Says it’ll push us to sharpen instincts.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like a headache.”

She grinned. “Sounds like training.”

I didn’t ask who I’d be paired with. I didn’t care, or at least I pretended not to. But when Maverick strode in a few minutes later and started reading off names, I tuned in.

“Phoenix and Fanboy. Hangman and Payback. Cipher… you’re flying with Floyd.”

I barely blinked.

Nat did, though. Her eyes flicked to mine with a quiet curiosity.

Bob Floyd. The guy with the still posture and the eyes that didn’t miss much. I could do worse.

He met me by the Hornet with a nod.

“Cipher.”

“Floyd,” I replied, zipping up my G-suit. “You good back there?”

“I’m always good back there.”

I paused. Looked up at him. No arrogance. No smirk. Just quiet confidence. He meant it.

“Let’s see if that holds,” I said.

He smiled, just barely. “Let’s.”

—

Up in the air, everything felt sharper. Crisper. My hands molded to the stick like they belonged there, instincts kicking in before thought had a chance to catch up. Bob’s voice filtered through my headset, low and steady. Clear. Calm.

“Bandit coming in on your six—three clicks. Banking right.”

“I see him.”

“You’ve got two seconds to counter.”

“I only need one.”

I pulled the maneuver hard and clean, ducked the simulated missile, looped back through the canyon, and caught a second target dead-on with a lock I shouldn’t have had time to make.

Silence.

Then Bob’s voice again, softer now.

“Nice flying.”

“Didn’t do it for praise,” I muttered.

“Didn’t give it for you.”

That caught me off-guard—just enough to make my chest tighten, almost like a laugh. Almost.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t perform. He didn’t pry. He just… showed up. Flew well. Spoke only when needed. And when I pushed, he didn’t push back.

I wasn’t used to that.

—

When we landed, Maverick gave us a glance that meant “interesting.” He didn’t say anything, just made a mark on his clipboard.

Back in the hangar, the others were already pulling off helmets and razzing each other. Rooster gave me a subtle nod across the room—respect. Payback asked Nat how I flew. Hangman was suspiciously quiet.

Bob sat down on the bench beside me without asking.

“You don’t talk much,” he said, not unkindly.

I glanced sideways. “Neither do you.”

“Guess we’ll get along just fine.”

I didn’t respond. But my silence wasn’t rejection—it was something else. Consideration. And maybe he knew that.

Because when he stood up, he didn’t push for more.

“See you on the next run, Cipher.”

He walked away, shoulders relaxed, not waiting for a goodbye.

And for the first time since I’d landed on base, I realized I wasn’t bracing for impact.

I was waiting for something else entirely.

I didn’t plan to go to the Hard Deck.

In fact, I told Nat twice that I wasn’t going. Once while peeling off my flight suit, and again while half-watching her braid her hair back in our shared room. But she looked at me with that stubborn gleam in her eye — the same one she wore before every high-G maneuver — and said, “You’re not getting out of this, Cipher. You need to let them see you.”

“I’m not interested in being seen.”

“Well, they already see you,” she said. “Might as well be in control of what they’re looking at.”

Annoying. Smart. Phoenix.

I wore black. Clean lines. Minimal makeup. Something about dressing simply gave me control, let me decide what I was showing instead of what they’d try to dig up.

The bar was warm and humming with energy when we arrived. Pool balls cracking. Country music on a loop. Pilots gathered in loose groups — some I recognized, others I’d heard stories about. I followed Nat’s lead toward the squad, who’d claimed the high tables near the jukebox.

Hangman spotted me first.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said, grin wide and bright like a billboard. “Didn’t think you were the social type, Cipher.”

“I’m not.”

“Then this must be a Phoenix miracle.”

“I’m very persuasive,” Nat said, smirking as she handed me a beer.

Bob was already there, quietly nursing his own bottle. He looked up as I approached but didn’t say anything. Just nodded — a small gesture, like punctuation at the end of a sentence.

Rooster pulled me into a round of darts with Payback and Fanboy. I went along, mostly to keep Hangman from drawing attention to me. But I kept catching glimpses — eyes that lingered just a second longer, conversations that quieted when I walked by. I’d lived through it before. The whispers. The That’s her… of it all.

Public humiliation has a way of making you infamous.

Especially when your Navy pilot boyfriend cheats on you with a junior officer, denies it, then accuses you of instability when the story breaks. The headlines were a storm I hadn’t asked for — just tried to survive.

I didn’t wear it on my skin, but the wind still howled behind me.

“Cipher!” Fanboy called, grinning. “Come sing!”

“No.”

“Come on! You look like you could use a little Springsteen therapy!”

“I’d rather get shot down in a simulator.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the group. Even Bob chuckled under his breath.

But Nat was already dragging me by the wrist toward the karaoke mic.

“You owe me for dragging you here,” she said, victorious.

I could’ve fought harder. Could’ve pulled back. But something about the way Bob looked at me — calm, not amused but… interested — made me step up. The music started, some vintage rock number I half-knew, and I sang. I didn’t belt it. I didn’t shake the walls. But I sang like I meant it.

People watched.

Bob did, too.

Not like the others — not dissecting me or sizing me up. Just watching, like he wanted to understand something I hadn’t said yet.

And for one second, I felt exposed.

When the song ended, I handed the mic off and stepped outside. I needed air. Space. Quiet.

The night was cooler than I expected, the salt breeze cutting through the heat of the bar. I leaned against the deck railing, trying to remember how to breathe without having to think about it.

Footsteps behind me.

Not Nat’s.

“You didn’t want to come,” Bob said.

I didn’t answer.

“But you did.”

He came to stand beside me, close but not too close. Just enough to make his presence feel intentional.

“I don’t like being on display,” I said quietly.

“I noticed.”

There was no pressure to say more. No prying. Just a pause, open and easy.

“I hate that they know,” I said before I could stop myself.

“About him?”

My jaw tensed.

“People talk,” he said gently. “Doesn’t mean they know anything.”

I glanced at him. “You don’t.”

He met my eyes. “No. But I listen.”

Something in my chest wavered.

He didn’t offer pity. He didn’t promise to fix anything. He just stood there, quiet and steady beside me, like air traffic control during a storm.

“Thank you,” I said before I could swallow it back.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

The beach was Nat’s idea.

Of course it was.

—

She told me it was team bonding. “Tradition,” she said, grinning like the devil. “Mandatory,” she added, when I gave her the look.

I tried to make excuses — had reports to finish, laundry to do, a thousand ways to avoid being half-buried in sand with people who still didn’t know if they were supposed to talk about the headlines or pretend they didn’t exist.

But Nat was relentless. And honestly? I was too tired to keep saying no.

So I showed up.

Black tank top, aviators, hair pulled back in a braid. No one asked me to play at first. They weren’t sure how close to stand, how much was too much. It was easier that way. I kept to the shade with a beer, watching as the others launched into a game of dogfight football like their lives depended on it.

Rooster dove into the sand, yelling something about a fumble that didn’t exist. Hangman and Payback were locked in some macho shoving match. Nat zigzagged between them like a bullet. And Bob…

Bob was steady. Patient. He didn’t move like the others — no showboating, no shouting. He ran clean routes, made smart passes. He played like someone who understood rhythm, not noise.

He caught my eye once — not because I was trying to look, but because I already was.

He offered a smile. Brief. Real.

I nodded. Sipped my beer.

Eventually, Nat called for me. “Cipher! You’re in.”

I could’ve said no. Probably should have.

But something pulled at me — not the desire to play, not the camaraderie I still wasn’t sure I wanted. Just the fact that for a minute, I forgot to remember what I’d lost. For a minute, I remembered I used to be someone else.

I stepped in.

Within five minutes, I had a touchdown.

Within ten, I was trash-talking Hangman so fast he missed a block.

By the time Nat shouted, “Last play! Winner takes bragging rights for the month,” I was breathless and wild and didn’t recognize the laugh that came out of me.

The ball snapped. I cut left. Bob tracked me — saw it before I even moved.

We locked eyes across the sand, and I knew.

The ball flew. I jumped.

Caught it mid-air. Fell hard into the sand.

Someone — Payback, I think — dove after me too late and landed in a heap next to me. “Damn, Cipher,” he groaned. “You don’t miss.”

I sat up, brushing sand from my arms.

Bob stood over me, just a little winded. “You okay?”

I nodded. “That a real pass or were you showing off?”

He smiled again — that small, crooked half-smile that didn’t ask for anything. “Wouldn’t dare show off with you on the field.”

Nat whooped. Rooster clapped me on the back. Hangman grumbled about bad calls. Everyone buzzed around us, the way teams do when the game’s done and the adrenaline still lingers.

But I stayed sitting for a second longer.

Watching Bob.

He’d already turned back to the group, offering someone else a water bottle. But he’d looked at me like I was here. Not the Cipher from the headlines. Not the girl who got cheated on and ghosted by command when she tried to report it. Just… me.

And that?

That was dangerous.

Because I knew what happened when you let yourself get seen.

The hangar was quiet, save for the soft hum of a floor fan and the occasional creak of cooling metal. Most of the squad had cleared out hours ago, eager for drinks, beach plans, or anything that didn’t involve more forms.

I stayed behind.

Old habit — staying late, cleaning up details no one cared about but me. Maybe I liked the quiet. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to go home to a dark room and my own thoughts.

Bob was still here too.

I hadn’t noticed at first. He moved like silence — neat, efficient, unobtrusive. But when I looked up from my logbook, there he was, at the desk across from mine, flipping through reports with a red pen and a furrowed brow.

“You always stay this late?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced up, a little startled, then offered a small shrug. “Only when the numbers don’t add up.”

I raised a brow. “You’re a perfectionist.”

Bob paused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Just… rare.”

Silence stretched between us, not awkward, not charged. Just… easy. A kind of stillness I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then my stomach growled. Loudly.

Bob looked up again, startled — then smiled, just barely. “Guess we forgot to eat.”

I blinked. “You didn’t eat either?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t notice.”

That made two of us.

A beat passed. Then he pulled out his phone. “I can order something. You like Chinese?”

I hesitated.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve made up an excuse, pretended I had something frozen waiting for me back home.

But instead I nodded. “Yeah. Chinese works.”

—

We sat on the hangar floor, takeout containers between us, eating lo mein with plastic forks like two rookies back from their first flight.

“This feels illegal,” I muttered around a bite. “Eating greasy noodles in a government hangar.”

Bob grinned. “Don’t tell Maverick.”

A laugh caught in my throat before I could stop it.

He looked at me like he’d just won something.

After a while, the conversation quieted. Not uncomfortable — just… heavier. The kind of silence where everything starts to feel a little more real. A little closer.

“You don’t talk much,” I said quietly, still not looking at him.

Bob shrugged. “Neither do you.”

Touché.

“But,” he added after a beat, “I notice things.”

I glanced at him. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“You read the same three lines of that maintenance log five times,” he said softly. “Your left shoulder tenses when someone brings up press. You pretend you’re not watching people, but you’re tracking exits. And you never look at your phone unless someone else is looking.”

I froze.

His voice didn’t change. “That doesn’t scare me.”

I looked away. “It should.”

And that was when he kissed me.

Soft. Careful. Like a question. Like I could still say no.

I didn’t.

At least not right away.

His hand found the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek. The warmth of him — the steadiness — made something in me ache.

But just as my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, just as his breath hitched against mine—

I pulled back.

Fast. Like I’d been burned.

“I—” I stood abruptly, putting space between us. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

Bob blinked, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” I said too quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But you did. You made me feel safe. You made me forget.

I forced a smile, already backing away. “I should go.”

He nodded, still sitting on the floor, still looking like he wanted to reach for me but knew better.

“Cipher—”

“Don’t,” I said, voice low. “Just… don’t.”

And I left.

Not because I didn’t want it.

Because I did.

But want had never been safe.

And I was done mistaking kindness for promises.

It had been months since I transferred in. Months of settling into this team. Months of drills and missions and inside jokes I somehow earned my way into. I had a seat at the table now — someone always saved me a spot. I sparred with Rooster, laughed with Payback, threw bar peanuts at Hangman. Phoenix still had my six.

But only Bob ever saw everything I didn’t say.

We never talked about it. The almosts. The whens and should we’s that hung like smoke between us. A kiss after late paperwork. A hug that lasted too long in the dark outside the Hard Deck. His hand brushing mine during flight checks.

We never let it go further. Not because we didn’t want to.

Because I couldn’t.

And he never asked me to explain why.

That’s how I knew it was real.

Now we were here — stranded in a half-frozen cabin, grounded and waiting out a blizzard that swallowed the world whole.

“I keep things locked up,” I said again, quieter.

Bob looked at me like he could see the whole storm playing out behind my eyes. He didn’t press. Didn’t pry. Just passed me a thermal mug of weak black coffee and sat closer, the blanket tugged tighter around both of us.

The fire popped. My fingers were numb even with gloves. And his thigh was pressed to mine so solidly it felt like an anchor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, surprising both of us.

“For what?” he asked.

“For letting it go this far and… still keeping you at arm’s length.”

Bob’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered behind his eyes — something soft and steady.

“You don’t owe me anything, Cipher,” he said. “But if you want me to stop, you need to say so.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned in, my heart pounding in my ears. I pressed my mouth to his, the kiss slow and deliberate, like I was finally giving in to something I’d been fighting for far too long. It was nothing like the stolen kisses we’d shared before—no rushed moments in hallways, no hiding in the shadows. This one was deep, intentional, like everything I hadn’t let myself want was finally surfacing.

Bob kissed me back, his hands moving to my jaw, steady and reverent, like he was afraid I’d shatter if he held me too tightly. But I didn’t want gentle. I wanted him, all of him, and I shifted closer, until I was almost in his lap, the blanket forgotten.

His lips moved to my neck, his breath hot against my chilled skin. One hand ghosted beneath the hem of my shirt, his touch light but insistent, like he was mapping the contours of my body for the first time. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his touch set my nerves on fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his words a low rumble that sent a thrill through me. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, and he took the invitation, his lips trailing kisses along my collarbone. His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the underside of my breast, and I gasped, my body arching into his touch.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

I closed my eyes, my heart racing. “I want you to take your time,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I want you to make me feel it.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, like he needed to see the truth in them. “I will,” he promised, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll make you feel everything.”

His hands moved slower then, deliberate, like he was savoring every inch of me. He unbuttoned my shirt, his fingers trembling slightly, and I helped him slide it off my shoulders, leaving me in just my bra. The cabin was cold, but his touch was fire, his palms warm as they glided over my skin.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his gaze lingering on my body, his admiration undeniable. “So fucking perfect.”

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I reached for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head, revealing the lean, muscular frame beneath. His skin was warm, his chest dusted with fine hair, and I ran my hands over him, tracing the lines of his abs, the ridges of his shoulders.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased, my voice shaky.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and pulled me closer, his lips finding mine again. This time, the kiss was hungry, desperate, like we’d both been starving for this moment. His hands moved to my back, unhooking my bra with practiced ease, and I let it fall to the floor, my breath hitching as his gaze raked over me.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

I felt a surge of desire at his words, my confidence growing under his gaze. I reached for the waistband of his pants, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and pulled down the zipper.

He hissed as my hand slid inside, wrapping around his erection, and I smirked, a wicked thrill running through me.

“You like that?” I asked, my voice low and teasing.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch. “You have no idea.”

I stroked him slowly, savoring the way his body reacted to my touch, the way his breath quickened, his muscles tensing. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered, echoing his earlier words. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.”

He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine, his expression raw with need. “I want you to take control,” he said, his voice steady despite the desire burning in his eyes. “I want you to make me yours.”

The words sent a jolt of power through me, and I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him. His hands moved to my hips, guiding me onto his lap, and I straddled him, our bodies pressing together, his hardness nestled against my core.

“You feel so good,” I murmured, grinding down on him, my breath catching at the friction.

“Not as good as you’re about to feel,” he promised, his hands moving to my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, making me arch into his touch.

I moaned, my head falling back as pleasure washed over me. “Bob, please—”

“Soon,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But first, I want to taste you.”

Before I could respond, he stood, lifting me with him, and carried me to the couch, laying me down gently. He knelt between my legs, his gaze intense as he looked at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said again, his voice filled with awe. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me completely bare. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but his gaze was so full of desire and reverence that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing my inner thigh, sending shivers through me. “So fucking perfect.”

He kissed his way up my legs, his touch feather-light, his breath hot against my skin. When he reached my core, he paused, his gaze meeting mine, like he was asking for permission.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice desperate. “I need you.”

He smiled, a slow, wicked grin, and then his mouth was on me, his tongue tracing patterns that made me gasp and squirm. He was gentle at first, teasing, his tongue flicking against my clit, his fingers parting my folds. But then he grew bolder, his tongue plunging inside me, his fingers joining in, thrusting in and out in a rhythm that had me moaning his name.

“Bob—oh God, Bob—”

“You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, his voice muffled but filled with delight. “So sweet. So fucking sweet.”

His words sent a rush of pleasure through me, and I arched into his touch, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close. He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling, his fingers pumping faster, and I felt the coil of tension inside me tighten, the pleasure building to an unbearable pitch.

“Bob, I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice a low growl. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words were all it took. My body shook as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my cries echoing in the small cabin. Bob drank it all in, his mouth never stopping, his fingers relentless, until I was a trembling mess beneath him.

When I finally came down, he kissed his way back up my body, his lips brushing mine, his eyes shining with satisfaction. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. “Your turn,” I said, reaching for his pants, my fingers trembling with anticipation.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and let me pull them down, his erection springing free. I took him in my hand, stroking him slowly, my thumb brushing the tip, and he groaned, his head falling back.

“Fuck, Cipher,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to kill me.”

I leaned in, kissing him deeply as I continued to stroke him, my mouth moving in time with my hand. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me close, his hips thrusting slightly into my touch.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I want to feel you around me.”

I smiled against his lips. “Then take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom, and rolled it on with shaking hands. Then he positioned himself at my entrance, his gaze meeting mine, like he needed my permission one last time.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice gentle.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. “Now.”

He thrust into me, slow and steady, his eyes closing as he savored the sensation. I gasped at the fullness, at the way he stretched me, filled me completely. He was thick, his length pressing deep, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a low groan. “So tight. So perfect.”

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the way my body felt around his. I met his rhythm, my hips moving with his, our bodies moving in perfect sync. The fire crackled, the blizzard raged outside, but in that moment, there was only him, only us.

“Bob—” I moaned, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built inside me again.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding. “Look at me when you come.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and saw the raw desire burning in them. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his control slipping as he chased his own release.

“Cipher—fuck—I’m close—”

“Come with me,” I urged, my voice shaky. “Let go.”

His eyes closed, his face contorting with pleasure as he thrust deep one last time, his body stiffening as he came, his name on my lips. I followed him over the edge, my body shaking as my orgasm crashed into me, my cries mingling with his.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged, the world outside forgotten. Then Bob pulled out, disposing of the condom, and gathered me into his arms, holding me close as we caught our breath.

“That was—” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips soft against mine.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “It was everything.”

I smiled, my heart full, my body still buzzing with pleasure. The blizzard raged on outside, but inside the cabin, we had found our own warmth, our own sanctuary. And as I snuggled into his embrace

—

The first thing I notice is the warmth.

The second is him.

Bob’s arm is slung over my waist, his chest pressed to my back, breathing slow and steady like he’s actually relaxed for once. I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but his hand tightens on my side, pulling me back in like I belong there.

I let myself stay, just for a moment. Eyes closed, heart soft, memorizing the feeling of him—his warmth, the faint scratch of stubble on my neck, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palm.

Then I feel it—his breath against my ear, the faintest huff of a laugh.

“You’re awake,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep. “Didn’t want to move.”

I turn over to face him, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world worth looking at. His hair’s sticking up in every direction, glasses askew, and he’s wearing that old, soft Top Gun t-shirt that’s probably seen more sunrises than either of us.

He brushes a hand gently across my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s his job.

“So, uh…” He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. “Are we… uh, are we a thing now?”

I blink at him, caught off guard.

“A thing?” I echo, voice soft.

His cheeks flush pink, but he holds my gaze, eyes wide and hopeful. “I mean… I’ve kinda wanted to be a thing since, I dunno… the first time you called me ‘Glasses’ in front of the whole team.”

A laugh bursts out of me—a real one, bright and unfiltered.

“That was a joke!”

“Was it, though?” he grins, that crooked, Bob grin that makes my heart stumble in my chest.

I look at him—really look at him—and suddenly, I know.

“I think I want to be,” I say quietly, the words feeling heavy and light all at once. “I want this. I want you.”

His eyes go soft, impossibly tender, and he leans in, brushing a kiss to my forehead—gentle, reverent, like I’m something fragile he’s been waiting years to hold.

And I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

We sit like that for a while, wrapped in the quiet, our fingers tangled together. The storm still rages outside, but in here, it’s warm—safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Eventually, Bob untangles himself and shuffles over to the tiny stove, fiddling with the ancient coffee pot like it might bite him.

“God, this stuff is terrible,” he mutters when the coffee finally sputters out, a thin, watery excuse for caffeine.

I take a sip anyway, wincing. “It’s… something.”

He laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.

Then the radio crackles.

“Rescue team’s ten minutes out. You two decent in there?”

Phoenix’s voice, clear as day.

Bob practically chokes on his coffee, coughing and wide-eyed, while I scramble to grab the radio.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Just cold, tired, and ready to get the hell out of here.”

I glance at Bob, and he gives me a little grin—quiet, shy, like we’re sharing a secret.

Because we are.

When the team finally bursts in, Bob and I act like nothing happened. Just two aviators, weathering a storm.

But as we step outside into the snow, his hand brushes mine—and this time, I let my fingers curl into his. Just for a second.

Long enough for him to know I’m not going anywhere.

And I know—neither is he.

—

Back at base, everything’s supposed to go back to normal. Briefings, drills, checklists, the whole routine like clockwork.

But nothing feels normal. Not when every time I glance up, I catch Bob already looking at me—soft, quiet, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something no one else does.

Like he knows me.

And maybe the others don’t notice at first. But it starts adding up.

Like how I’ll get up from the ready room table to grab a coffee or “go to the bathroom,” and not five minutes later, Bob magically has to stretch his legs, too.

“Oh, uh, I’ll—uh—head that way too, I guess,” he’ll mumble, cheeks pink.

The first time, no one blinks. The second time, Rooster’s eyebrow quirks up. The third time, Phoenix catches my eye and smirks like she knows.

And the worst part? We’re so bad at playing it cool.

Phoenix crosses her arms, smirking, and leans in toward Rooster, whispering loudly, “I give it a week before they start wearing matching sweaters.”

“Two days,” Fanboy counters.

“Guys,” Bob protests, flustered, but it’s half-hearted at best. His eyes find mine across the room, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot.

It only gets worse.

Inside jokes start cropping up—mostly between Bob and me. Like the time Mav asks a question during a briefing, and Bob murmurs, “I think we need… cabin coffee for this.”

I choke on my drink, snorting so hard I nearly spill it all over my notes.

Everyone turns to stare.

Bob just sits there, all wide-eyed and innocent, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he just did.

And the way he looks at me after—soft, secret, like he’s holding onto a memory only we share—makes my chest ache in the best way.

the other night at the Hard Deck.

Everyone’s packed in, the bar loud with music and laughter, darts flying, bottles clinking. I’m at the bar, waiting for my drink, when Bob slips in beside me—close, but not too close.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soft enough that no one else hears.

“Hey, Bob,” I say back, fighting a grin.

It’s too easy, the way we fall into our own little world. He nudges my shoulder, and I nudge him back. We share a look when Payback tries to tell some long, winding story about a failed maneuver, and Bob’s eyes sparkle like he’s holding back a laugh just for me.

Then there’s the dart game.

Phoenix lines up her shot, eyebrow cocked. “Loser buys the next round.”

Bob steps up behind me and murmurs, “Aim a little left.”

I smirk. “Since when are you my coach, Floyd?”

He leans in—too close, definitely not regulation—and whispers, “Since the cabin.”

I nearly drop the dart.

Phoenix catches it. “What’s that about a cabin?”

Bob’s ears go bright red, and I’m this close to smacking him with the dartboard.

It was supposed to be a quick moment.

Just five minutes, tucked away in a quiet corner of the hangar after everyone had cleared out. Bob had been rambling about flight patterns, his hands waving in the air, glasses slipping down his nose, and I couldn’t help it—I had to kiss him.

And now here we are.

His back’s against the cold metal wall, his hands warm on my hips, his mouth soft and everywhere on mine.

It’s sweet and slow, like we’ve got all the time in the world, like the whole world shrank down to just this: me, Bob, and the sound of our ragged breathing echoing in the quiet.

I break away, forehead pressed to his, catching my breath.

“I like this,” Bob whispers, his voice so soft it feels like a secret.

“Me too,” I murmur, smiling against his lips, and then I’m pulling him in for another kiss—

And that’s when we hear it.

A loud, dramatic throat-clear.

I freeze. Bob’s eyes go wide, lips still parted, breath caught halfway between oh no and please let it be someone else.

Slowly—so slowly—we turn toward the noise.

And there, standing with his arms crossed and a very smug grin, is Hangman.

“Now, what do we have here?” he drawls, drawing out the words like he’s savoring every single syllable.

Bob practically jumps away from me, nearly tripping over his own feet. I swipe at my lips, cheeks burning, and try to come up with literally anyexplanation.

“Uh—” I start.

“Nope!” Hangman cuts in, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. “Don’t even try. I know exactly what I saw.”

Bob’s face is a shade of red I didn’t even know was humanly possible.

“Hangman,” I say, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. “You can’tsay anything.”

He smirks, like he’s won the lottery. “Oh, I can say something. In fact, I’m dying to.”

Bob looks like he might actually pass out.

“Jake, please,” Bob says, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

“Please, Hangman,” I add, and I’m pretty sure my voice is borderline begging.

He taps a finger against his chin, pretending to think about it. “Hmm… what’s it worth to you?”

I narrow my eyes. “You would pull this.”

“Absolutely,” he grins, teeth blinding. “I mean, this is gold. ‘Glasses’ and ‘Cipher’ sneaking around like a couple of teenagers? The team’s gonna eat this up.”

“Jake.” Bob’s voice is soft, but desperate.

Hangman glances at him, then back at me, and for a second—just a second—he looks like he’s almost feeling generous.

I cross my arms, glaring. “Jake Seresin, if you say one word about this, I will personally make sure your locker mysteriously ‘loses’ all of your flight gear before your next sortie.”

Bob, bless him, tries a different tactic. “Look, we’re not trying to… make a thing out of it. Just… let us figure it out first, okay?”

Hangman’s smirk softens, just a little.

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep my mouth shut. For now. But don’t think for a second I won’t collect on this later.”

Bob lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

I give Jake a long, warning stare. “Not a word.”

He holds up his hands, all innocent-like. “Scout’s honor.”

As he walks away, whistling like he’s the hero of the story, Bob groans softly, burying his face in his hands.

“Well,” I mutter, “that was… not ideal.”

Bob peeks at me through his fingers, and somehow, we both start laughing, breathless and a little hysterical.

Because of course it was Hangman. And of course we’re not gonna live this down.

But for now… at least our secret’s safe.

Sort of.

—

The sun’s low in the sky, golden and warm, casting long shadows across the Hard Deck parking lot where someone—probably Fanboy—decided it would be a good idea to haul out a grill and have an impromptu squad barbecue.

There’s laughter, music, the smell of burgers and smoke in the air.

And absolutely zero chance we’re going to make it through this without someone saying something.

Bob and I showed up separately. Obviously.

But it took exactly five minutes for us to somehow end up standing way too close by the drinks cooler, and exactly ten for Hangman to start hovering.

He’s leaning against the bar with a beer in hand, watching us like a hawk—grinning, of course. Just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Bob’s trying to play it cool. He’s got his glasses on, hair a little messy from the wind, and he’s nodding along to whatever Rooster’s saying about football, but his hand is gripping his soda can way too tightly.

And every few seconds, he glances at me like he can’t help it. Like he’s trying to check in, make sure I’m okay, like we’re still tethered even in the middle of a crowd.

I’m just as bad. I keep catching myself smiling for no reason when he looks at me, and the way my stomach flips every time his arm brushes mine is so obvious, it’s a miracle no one’s called us out yet.

But then Hangman clears his throat.

Loudly.

“Man,” he says, voice pitched just loud enough to carry over the music, “this barbecue’s almost as hot as the sparks flying over by the cooler.”

Everyone turns.

Bob practically jumps. I freeze, a solo cup halfway to my lips, and glare daggers at Jake, who’s grinning like he just won the lottery.

Rooster’s eyebrows shoot up. Phoenix glances between us, her eyes narrowing like she’s connecting the dots.

Bob’s cheeks flush a deep, tell-tale red, and I can feel my own face heating up.

“We’re—” Bob starts, voice cracking slightly, “uh, we’re just… standing here.”

“Sure you are, Glasses,” Hangman smirks, stretching out the nickname in that infuriatingly smug drawl.

Bob sputters. I glare.

“Jake,” I warn, stepping in, voice low, “don’t.”

He just grins wider. “Relax, Cipher. I’m not saying anything… just making an observation.”

Phoenix folds her arms, watching us with a smirk, clearly enjoying the absolute trainwreck unfolding in front of her.

Bob’s about to combust. I can see it in the way he’s fidgeting, hands tugging at the hem of his t-shirt like it might save him.

So I do the only thing I can do—grab his hand under the table, squeeze gently, and shoot him a look that says we’ll survive this.

Because we will.

Eventually, the team drifts back into their conversations, the moment fading.

But Hangman?

He catches my eye, tips an imaginary hat, and mouths “You owe me”before turning away.

Bob lets out a long breath, eyes wide, and mutters, “We’re so bad at this.”

“Yeah,” I whisper back, smiling despite myself. “But I kinda like it.”

And when his fingers brush mine again, soft and quick, like a promise, I know we’ll figure it out.

Even if the whole squad knows exactly what’s going on.

The Hard Deck is loud tonight—music thumping, laughter bouncing off the walls, and the squad scattered across the bar like it’s home base.

I’m standing by the pool table, pretending to watch Rooster line up a shot, but really, I’m hyper-aware of Bob across the room, sitting with Hangman and Fanboy, a beer in one hand and that quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks now—stolen glances, “accidental” run-ins, lingering touches when no one’s looking.

And somehow, we’ve kept it under wraps.

Or… we had.

Because that’s when I hear it.

Bob, in his sweet, earnest voice, casually saying:

“Yeah, I think Cipher and I are just gonna grab dinner after this.”

Time freezes.

My stomach drops.

Hangman—sitting right across from Bob—slowly turns his head, a grin spreading across his face like a slow-motion car crash.

Rooster chokes on his beer, coughing so hard he has to thump his chest. Phoenix spins around from the dartboard, eyebrows halfway to the ceiling.

Bob?

Absolutely oblivious.

He’s still talking, going on about how there’s this new Italian place we’ve been wanting to try, and I can see it happening in real-time—the moment he realizes—

His voice falters.

His cheeks flush bright pink.

His eyes dart around the room like a deer in headlights, finally catching the looks being thrown his way.

“Oh,” he mumbles, blinking rapidly. “Uh. I mean… just, uh, as friends—”

“Bob.” Hangman’s voice is silk and poison, smug dripping from every syllable. “You sure about that, buddy?”

Bob opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He’s completely flustered.

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. It just bubbles up, unstoppable, and when Bob’s eyes snap to mine, mortified, I just shake my head, grinning.

“Smooth, Floyd,” I tease, crossing my arms. “Really subtle.”

Payback lets out a howl of laughter, slapping the table like he’s at a comedy show. “I knew it! Knew it, knew it!”

Bob groans, covering his face with both hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters behind his palms.

I reach over, gently tugging his hand down. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He peeks at me, cheeks still bright red, and whispers, “I’m so bad at this.”

“You’re adorable,” I whisper back, grinning so wide it hurts.

Hangman leans in, grinning ear to ear. “So… dinner date, huh?”

Bob looks at me, eyes soft and a little resigned, and then—finally—he shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, but with this quiet certainty that makes my heart flip. “Cipher and I are a thing.”

And just like that, the whole bar erupts.

Cheers, laughter, Phoenix throwing a coaster at us and yelling, “Finally!” Rooster shaking his head with a grin like he’d bet money on it months ago.

Bob looks at me, like he’s a little overwhelmed but also relieved, and I just smile, squeezing his hand under the table.

Because yeah. The secret’s out.

And it feels really, really good.

—

It’s late afternoon when I show up at Bob’s apartment, arms full of snacks, the weight of the week falling off my shoulders as soon as I step through the door.

Bob’s already in his cozy mode—sweatpants, a hoodie, glasses slightly askew as he fiddles with the TV settings, trying to make sure the entireMarvel collection is queued up for the marathon.

“Hey,” he says when he sees me, voice soft, eyes lighting up like I just made his day.

I grin, kicking off my shoes and dropping the snacks on the counter. “Hey yourself, Glasses.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, cheeks already turning pink, and I feel that familiar pull in my stomach—the one that makes it way too easy to get lost in those sweet blue eyes.

“I brought the essentials,” I say, holding up a giant bag of popcorn. “Also, drinks, candy, and…” I dig through the bag, “a whole lot of regret for the sheer amount of time we’re about to waste watching every single Marvel movie.”

Bob laughs again, softer this time, and I catch the way his gaze lingers on me a little too long.

The apartment smells like popcorn already—he’s got a batch going in the kitchen, and the windows are cracked open to let in the cool evening air. It feels comfortable, like we’ve done this a thousand times.

And maybe that’s why it happens.

I’m helping him set up the blankets on the couch—fluffing pillows, arguing over the best blanket placement—when I glance up and find him watching me.

Really watching me.

His mouth is slightly parted, eyes soft behind his glasses, like he’s thinkingsomething he hasn’t dared to say out loud yet.

My breath catches.

“What?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He swallows, shaking his head like he shouldn’t say it, but then—

“I just…” His voice is quiet, warm, gentle, like a secret he’s been keeping close to his chest. “I really like this.”

“Movie night?” I tease, even though my heart is racing.

He gives me a look—one that says, You know that’s not what I mean—and takes a small step closer, enough that I feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitches just a little when I don’t move away.

I swear the world tilts.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Bob reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and let his fingers linger on my cheek. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and electric.

“Bob,” I breathed, his name feeling like a promise on my tongue.

He leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and kissed me. It was soft at first, a brush of lips that made my knees go weak. But then my hands were in his hair, and his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The kiss grew hungry, desperate—like we’d been waiting too long and couldn’t wait anymore.

His breath was ragged against my skin as his lips trailed down to my jaw, my neck. I tugged at his hoodie, pulling him even closer, my fingers digging into the fabric as if to anchor him to me. His hands slid down my back, pressing me against him, and I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with need. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I didn’t respond with words, just tightened my grip on his hair and pulled him back up for another kiss. This time, it was fierce, our lips moving against each other with an urgency that left no doubt about how we felt.

Bob broke away first, his chest heaving as he looked at me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “Bedroom,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my ears as he took my hand and led me down the hallway. The bedroom was dimly lit, the evening light filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Bob didn’t waste any time, pressing me against the door and kissing me again, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every curve.

I moaned into the kiss, my hands sliding under his hoodie to trace the muscles of his back. He was strong, his body lean and athletic, and I reveled in the feel of him against me. His lips moved down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The praise sent a shiver down my spine, but it was the edge in his voice—a hint of something darker, more primal—that made my knees weaken. Bob wasn’t just gentle; he was hungry, and I loved it.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he hovered above me. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Do you understand?”

I smirked, arching my back slightly. “Prove it.”

The challenge in my tone seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Oh, I will,” he growled, before slamming his lips back down on mine.

The kiss was rough now, his tongue demanding entrance as he kissed me like he was claiming me. I moaned, my body arching against his as I surrendered to the intensity of the moment. His free hand slid down my body, pulling up my shirt to expose my bra. He traced the lace with his fingers before hooking his thumbs under the straps and sliding it off, his eyes devouring me.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Your tits are perfect.”

I felt a flush of heat at his words, the mix of praise and degradation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. Bob leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, his tongue swirling as his hand squeezed my other breast. I cried out, my head tossing back into the pillow as I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him closer.

“Bob, please,” I panted, my body thrumming with need.

He smirked against my skin, his breath hot as he moved lower, kissing down my stomach. His hands slid down my jeans, unbuttoning them slowly, deliberately, as he looked up at me with a mix of hunger and reverence.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against me through the fabric of my panties. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, my hips lifting off the bed as he hooked his fingers into my jeans and panties, sliding them down my legs. “God, yes.”

Bob’s eyes locked on me, his expression intense as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my core.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, my voice steady despite the desperation she felt. “Now.”

He smirked, his fingers tracing the edges of my lips before slipping inside me. I was slick, my body ready for him, and he groaned at the feel of my heat enveloping his hand.

“So fucking wet,” he repeated, his thumb pressing against my clit as he slid a second finger inside me. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”

I moaned, my head falling back into the pillow as I squirmed beneath his touch. “Bob, please. I need you.”

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my thigh.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, even as my body betrayed me with another desperate moan. “Just get on with it.”

Bob’s smirk widened as he stood, shedding his hoodie and sweatpants to reveal his toned body. His glasses were askew, his hair tousled, and he looked utterly undone—and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He reached for his belt, his eyes never leaving mine as he undid his jeans and pushed them down, revealing his erection, thick and hard.

My breath caught at the sight, my body aching for him. He stepped out of his jeans, kicking them aside before reaching for me again, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself between my legs.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I nodded, my heart pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against my entrance. “Fuck me, Bob.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside me, his eyes closing as he let out a ragged groan. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his hips snapping forward as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate, powerful, filling me completely as he set a relentless pace.

I met his rhythm, my body moving with his as I lost myself in the sensation. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers leaving bruises as he pounded into my, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“You like this, don’t you?” he panted, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You like being fucked by me.”

“Yes,” I moaned, my head tossing back as I felt her orgasm building. “God, yes.”

Bob leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words pushed me over the edge. my body tightened around him as I cried out, my orgasm ripping through me like a wave, my nails digging into his back as I rode it out. Bob groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release, his hips snapping forward one last time before he stilled, his body trembling as he spilled himself inside me.

For a moment, we were both silent, our breaths ragged as we clung to each other. Then, just as Bob pulled out and collapsed beside me, the doorbell rang.

It’s way too quiet when the doorbell rings.

Bob and I freeze, tangled up in each other in the middle of his bed, both of us flushed and breathless, the remains of the movie night snacks scattered across the dresser.

I stare at the ceiling, panting, my shirt somewhere on the floor, and Bob’s hair is sticking up in all directions, his glasses crooked, lips definitely kiss-bruised.

And then—

Ding-dong!

“Shit.”

Bob launches himself off the bed like the doorbell is a grenade.

I can’t stop laughing, the sound bubbling up in my chest as I pull the blankets around me and watch him scramble to find his sweatpants. He’s halfway hopping into them when the team starts knocking like they’re about to bust the door down.

“Bob!” Rooster calls, voice way too loud. “You alive in there, man?”

Bob fumbles with his hoodie, cheeks flushed red, muttering under his breath as he bolts to the front door.

The second it opens—

Hangman leans in, smirking so hard it looks like his face might crack. “Well, well, if it isn’t Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd.”

Phoenix chokes on her soda, Rooster wheezes, and Payback is dying in the back, barely holding it together.

Bob’s face goes nuclear.

“I—what? No, I—uh, we were just—” he stammers, his hands flailing.

“Oh, we know,” Hangman says, voice dripping with amusement as he pushes his way inside, holding up the pizza box like a trophy. “Just wasn’t expecting to interrupt.”

Bob looks absolutely mortified, rubbing the back of his neck as the rest of the team files in, smirking and laughing and throwing him looks.

I give it five whole minutes before I walk out of Bob’s room—wearing his hoodie, hair still a mess, cheeks burning.

The second I appear, the team erupts.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us!” Rooster crows, clapping his hands together.

“Confirmed,” Hangman grins, gesturing between us. “Bobby ‘I-Just-Got-Lucky’ Floyd and his very happy girlfriend.”

Phoenix is leaning back in the armchair, arms crossed, giving me the most knowing smirk like, you’re not even trying to hide it anymore.

Bob groans into his hands, and I can’t help it—I’m grinning.

“Alright, alright,” I say, throwing my hands up as I grab a slice of pizza from the box. “You guys gonna keep teasing us, or are we watching Iron Man?”

Hangman just laughs, leaning back on the couch, but the glint in his eyes says this definitely isn’t the last we’ll hear about it.

Bob catches my gaze across the room, cheeks still pink, but when I smile at him, he smiles back—soft, like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

And honestly?

Neither can I.

—

The apartment is quiet chaos in the morning light.

Half the team is still asleep, sprawled across Bob’s couch and floor in a mess of blankets and empty soda cans. Rooster’s got an arm flung over his eyes, snoring like a freight train. Fanboy is curled up in an armchair, drooling slightly, and Phoenix is half-awake, mumbling to herself as she tries to shove Hangman’s very annoying leg off her lap.

Hangman, of course, is the only one who looks remotely alive—sitting at the counter in a t-shirt and sweatpants, sipping a mug of coffee like he owns the place, smirking at me and Bob every time we brush past each other in the kitchen.

“Morning, lovebirds,” he drawls, lifting his mug in a lazy salute.

Bob flushes a shade of pink I didn’t know existed, fumbling with the carton of eggs, and I can’t help but grin.

“Careful, Bagman,” I say, tilting my head as I flip a pancake, “or you’ll be on dishes duty.”

Hangman’s smirk widens like I’ve just issued a challenge.

“Oh, I know what you two were up to last night,” he says, voice just loud enough to make Bob nearly drop the spatula. “Our boy Bobby I-Just-Got-Lucky Floyd here—looking awfully smug this morning, aren’t you?”

Bob goes red—cherry red—and I nudge him with my hip, biting back a laugh as I plate the pancakes.

“You’re such an ass, Jake,” I mutter, but I’m grinning, because honestly? It feels good—to have this, to be teased like this, to have a place.

Bob glances at me, his eyes soft and warm behind his glasses, and for a second, it’s like the room melts away—just him and me, quiet and ours.

By the time everyone’s finally up, we’re gathered around the table, plates piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. The coffee’s lukewarm and the pancakes are a little burned at the edges, but no one cares.

The team is loud—joking, laughing, stealing food off each other’s plates. Payback’s recounting a mission gone sideways, Rooster’s half-listeningwhile arguing with Fanboy about who would win in a fight: Iron Man or Captain America.

And I’m just… watching.

Watching Bob refill Phoenix’s coffee like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Watching Hangman tease Bob and get a pancake thrown at him for it. Watching Bob’s hand rest on my knee under the table, his thumb brushing back and forth like he can’t not touch me.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

And it hits me, sudden and deep and a little overwhelming:

I don’t have to carry the weight of my past anymore.

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to my ex, not to the Navy, not even to myself.

This right here—Bob’s soft smile, the way he looks at me like I’m everything, the sound of the team laughing like family around the table—this is what matters.

I’m not the girl who got left behind.

I’m Cipher.

And I’m happy.

I catch Bob’s gaze, and he must see it—something in my face, in the way I’m holding myself, because he smiles at me like I just lit up his whole world.

And maybe I did.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 days ago

Text

First in Class Part One

Lt. Robert ‘BOB’ Floyd x Reader

Words: 5623

Summary: Your graduation from Top Gun seems like the perfect opportunity to introduce your boyfriend to your father…except they’ve already met.

Notes: I don’t know anything about flying, obviously, but god it was fun to write. So much so, I think want to keep this character arch for other stand alones. Call sign ‘Rebel’ will just always have this backstory and general traits. I just had such a blast and I hope you guys enjoy and look forward to part two!

Bob watched and tried not to hold his breath so long that he passed out, which seemed like a real possibility judging by how lightheaded he was getting. He wasn’t even the one in the plane, but with every impossible maneuver at an impossible speed, his stomach did more and more flips.

“You alright there, Baby on Board?” Hangman patted him hard on the shoulder. “You look a little green.”

“It’s an intense dogfight,” he reasoned.

Phoenix snorted. “It isn’t even real.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t do this when you were in Top Gun.”

“Of course I did,” Bob snapped back, hating the smugness perpetually painting Hangman’s features. Sure, the team of them had gotten close over the last year, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole. He was just one Bob occasionally liked to have around. This was not one of those occasions. But when Phoenix suggested they all get together to get a preview of the new graduates’ skills, he didn’t really feel like explaining why he was already going to be there.

“Besides, their ranking is already decided,” Rooster added, bringing them all another pack of beer. “This is just a few of them getting permission to show off.”

“They don’t know that,” Phoenix pointed out. “They never tell them when they’ve decided. They like to keep them on edge, the bastards.” She grinned, remembering her nerves from her time in Top Gun.

“Which makes it worse, doesn’t it?” Bob leaned forward on the rail of the boat they were watching from. “A bunch of hot heads getting ready to graduate?”

“Remind me not to take you to any parties,” Hangman snickered.

A roar echoed out above them, drawing their attention back to the two aircraft circling each other like vultures on a kill.

Bob ignored the others and their barrage of critiques and kept his eyes on the plane being pursued.

“Come on, baby,” he muttered. “You can get 'em.” The plane getting closer and closer to the blue waves captured every ounce of his focus. “Come on, baby. Shake them off.”

On the carrier, more were watching the dogfight take place.

“Come on, kid,” Pete said. “You can do this.”

Maverick watched his daughter’s plane pull up at the last second, invert above her opponent, and swing back around to lock on the kill shot. He felt a swell overtake his chest, like he was being pushed under the water they floated on. Pride. That’s what it was. Pride.

Bob clenched his fists around the rail, doing his best to hide his enthusiasm from the others.

“That’s my girl.”

When you took off your helmet and the cool ocean air hit your face, you were beaming. The chaos of the carrier set you at ease. People darted back and forth to check the planes for damages and refuel them for the next round of graduates to test their meddle. But you already knew they wouldn’t beat you. They hadn’t announced rankings, but you knew. You could feel it.

Just like you could feel the presence of the man at the end of the flight deck before you saw him.

Pete Mitchell.

Maverick.

Dad.

You were running across the deck before the other pilot even landed, catapulting yourself into his arms.

Pete laughed, spinning you around with his arms locked around you.

“You said you weren’t going to make it,” you said into his leather jacket.

He set you back down, pushing a sweat-stuck strand of your hair back. Pete shrugged, grin growing. “I lied.”

Your smile matched his. “I think I did it.”

That pride in his chest came up in waves again. “I know you did.”

Your grin turned teasing, and you gave him a playful punch to the arm. “Jealous?”

“Hey, second in class is nothing to scoff at.” He pretended the punch hurt, rubbing the spot where you hit.

“But it’s not first,” you smirked.

He raised a brow. “I’ll remember you said that when I’m thinking about buying you a drink tonight.”

With your opponent, “Saint”, coming in, you knew you had to get back before your superiors chewed your ass.

“Speaking of tonight,” you said, starting to back away, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

You said something, but Pete couldn't hear you over the bustle and noise of the flight deck.

“What?”

You said it again, getting further away.

Pete huffed a laugh and asked one more time. “Who am I meeting?”

Finally, he heard your bright laugh over the sound of the planes. “My boyfriend!” You turned and hurried off before he could fully react.

Dumbfounded, Pete Mitchell stared after you, wrapping his mind around the word.

Boyfriend?

By the time you got back to the beach, you were ready for a drink. After long, long weeks of training and dealing with the boys’ club of Saint and his buddies, you’d made it. You’d done what you’ve been working your whole life towards, ever since you were a little kid and you snuck out of your mother’s house to watch the test planes.

Your dad was meeting you at Penny’s, promising that he had a surprise for you. If you were being honest, you thought he was acting weird ever since you mentioned having a boyfriend.

It wasn’t like you’d never dated. You’d had plenty of relationships throughout high school and the Naval Academy, but they hadn’t exactly gone well. You always fell for the hotrod, the arrogant bad boys who promised adventure and excitement. They never delivered on those promises, of course.

And then you met Robert.

He was a few years ahead of you in the academy. You’d been having problems with one of your instructors and, in order to not risk getting kicked out, you decided to find someone to tutor you. If your instructor was determined to have a problem with you because of who your father was, then you were determined to come out top of the course. Robert was the best at weapon systems, so you approached him to tutor you.

You were pretty sure he spent the next few months being terrified of you, but the rest, as they say, is history.

Opening the door to Penny’s, the familiar scent of beer and salt water filled your lungs. The jukebox played a Tom Petty song, accompanied by the quiet clanks of pool balls sinking into pockets.

The cheer that followed, you’d recognize anywhere.

“As I live and breathe, Bradshaw,” you said, a grin slowly spreading across your face as you approached the group of people in naval uniforms around the pool table. Bradley Bradshaw was the closest thing you had to an older brother. Hearing your voice, his head snapped up. You stole his pool stick to set it aside and pull him into a hug. “Hey, Ugly Duck.”

He rolled his eyes at your nickname for him.

“I wondered if that was you up there.” Rooster raised a brow. “Cinderella.” Two can play at the name game.

You punched his arm and hugged him again.

Someone cleared their throat behind you.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Roost?” A tall officer with the kind of smirk you always used to fall for leaned on the corner of the table, eyeing you with a confident green-blue gaze. He held out a hand. “Jake Seresin.”

The name clicked in your head. “Hangman.”

“The one and only.” He shook your hand with a firm grip and a flirty grin. Yup. Definitely the kind of guy you used to go for. “So that was you this morning?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, but my call is Rebel,” you said. “And yeah. That was just for fun.”

He chuckled. “Looked like it.” Sauntering toward you, he motioned to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink? Our buddy’s up there now getting a round.”

You knew that head of light brown hair anywhere.

“I think I’ll help him carry.” You made sure to give him a final glance over your shoulder before strutting your way to the bar. “Hey there, sailor.”

Bob jumped, almost dropping the five bottles he was trying to pick up.

You giggled. “Want some help?”

“I-I got it,” he said, brows coming together in focus. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes widened, and he almost dropped them again. “Y/N, hey. I thought you were one of the guys messing with me.” A sheepish smile spread across his face. “You were amazing today.”

He was the only one who could make you blush. You didn’t know anyone could be so sincere, so sweet, until you met him.

“Your friend wanted to buy me a drink,” you said.

Bob looked over at Hangman, who was looking over at you. “Oh?” He glanced down. “Yeah. He’s um-”

“A bit of a prick?” You finished, laughing.

Bob snorted. “You could say that.”

You glanced over, finding that everyone was now watching the two of you. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bob’s face snapped back up. “Anything.”

“Put the bottles down, Bobby,” you smirked.

His brows came together again, this time in confusion. It was adorable. He did as you said, setting the beers back on the bar.

Then, you put your hands on either side of his face, and crashed your lips into his.

And while the jukebox switched to Billy Joel’s “Shameless”, the bar went silent for the naval officers around the pool table. You reveled in the moment, but most of all, you just took him in. It’d been weeks since you’d been able to spend any real time with him, and just feeling him there, feeling his lips softly respond to yours, was everything you needed.

“She’s with…” Hangman trailed off, rendered speechless for the first time.

Rooster just whistled. “I didn’t know someone could turn that red.”

Sure enough, when you pulled away, your boyfriend’s cheeks had gone such a shade, he matched the 3 ball. You flashed him a wink, grabbed three of the bottles, and calmly walked back over to the table.

“Which one of these is yours, Hangman?” You asked, handing one to Rooster. Still unable to speak, he just pointed. You gave the opposite to the only other woman at the table and kept the final bottle for yourself, taking a swig. “Not my usual, but not bad.”

“I-um-”

Rooster patted him on the back. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He strung an arm over your shoulder as your still-pink boyfriend trailed behind you with the other two drinks. “It’s easier to just accept her and move on.”

You elbowed him in the side, earning a breathy ‘Oof.’

“Are we playing or not, Ugly Duck?” You circled the table and gathered pool balls. “You and flyboy over here versus me and Robert.”

Rooster and Hangman exchanged a look, overconfidence quickly overcoming the latter’s expression.

Fanboy leaned over to Phoenix. “Who the hell is Robert?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

While you broke, Bob could feel everybody staring at him. Of the group, he was seen as the most secretive. It wasn’t because he kept secrets. He was just… quiet. That, and nobody ever asked if he was seeing anyone. Still, did they have to look that surprised?

He watched you sink two stripes on the first break. Across the table, your sparkling eyes met his, and suddenly, nobody else’s stare mattered. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from grinning like an idiot. You made your way around the table to stand next to him, despite there being better shots on the other side.

You purposely bumped his hip with yours, and he felt himself go red all over again as you leaned down to take the shot.

“So,” Rooster started, brows furrowing, “why did you tell me about-” he motioned to the two of you, “this?”

You shrugged. “Robert and I met when you still weren’t speaking to me. After that, I guess it just never came up.” You gave him a faux-innocent doe-eyed look.

You grew up with Bradley. He was basically your brother. But when everything went down between him and your dad… he cut you off almost entirely. It took years to build up your relationship again. You weren’t still mad about it, of course. But every once in a while, you liked to rub it in that you were the better friend.

Bob cleared his throat. “You two, uh, know each other?”

“Since we were kids,” Rooster answered, nudging you out of the way with his pool cue. “Unfortunately.”

You smacked him with the end of yours.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you said to Bob. “He’s coming tonight.”

“Who?”

“My dad.”

All of the color drained from his face. “T-tonight?”

“Don’t look so scared. He isn’t that bad.” Rooster studied the two of you. His eyes went wide, and a slow, menacing smile spread across his face. “Does he not know?”

“Not know what?” Bob squeaked.

The older officer just snorted. “This should be good.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the bar, the group’s former instructor entered, a large gift bag swinging back and forth by his legs. He flipped his aviators up onto his head, eyes scanning the crowd. You stood on your toes and waved so he could see you over Rooster and Hangman’s shoulders. Bob tried to peek around them, but the crowd was too thick around you for him to get a good look. All he saw was a flash of dark hair topped with golden-shaded sunglasses.

Rooster snickered as he leaned down to sink two pool balls and flip you the bird. You stuck your tongue out at him and snuck back through the swell of people to meet your dad halfway.

Pete spotted you for a second, but lost you again. Penny tended the bar and, as attentive as ever, had a feeling something was about to happen. Between Pete’s confusion and the very nervous-looking young man by the pool table, she wondered what you were up to.

“Dad, over here!” You called, squeezing between two annoyed tourists. “Hey!”

Pete finally found you again and tucked the bag behind his bag to give you a one-armed hug. “Hey, kiddo. Don’t tell me the party started without me.”

“I told you I had someone I wanted you to meet.” You started to lead him back toward the table, but from his position now, he could see the group gathered, and he froze.

“Don’t tell me it’s one of them,” he said, trying to wrap his mind around the odds.

“It isn’t Bradly if that’s what you’re worried about.” You snorted at the idea.

Pete winced, waiting for you to tell him that you’d been seeing the cockiest pilot in the whole group.

“No,” you pointed, “him.”

Bob caught your eye and waved, at least until he saw who was with you. If he was pale before, he was ghostly now, eyes widening to the size of headlights.

“Him?” Pete guffawed. “You’re dating Bob?”

Your head tilted as you looked back at him, still leading your dad to join the others. “Wait, you know Robert?”

The two of you broke through the wall of people.

Hangman choked on his beer.

Rooster howled with laughter, both at his fellow pilots’ expressions and Maverick’s efforts not to look anyone in the eye. You stood in the middle of it all.

You glanced between the two sides, arms crossed. “I don’t get it.”

“Well,” Pete cleared his throat, “Y/N, sweetheart, you didn’t exactly tell me you were dating someone who graduated from Top Gun.”

Bob, who looked ready to lose his lunch, couldn’t manage any full words, so Rooster did it for him.

“I take it she didn’t tell you her dad is one of the most decorated pilots in the Navy.”

Bob did manage to shake his head, unable to look at you or his former instructor, choosing the safety of the green felt tabletop instead. He tried to make it all make sense.

He knew that your mom and dad weren’t together and hadn’t been in a long time. He knew it was partially because of your dad’s job and that she didn’t exactly support you joining the Navy, especially to become a pilot. So much so, she wasn’t even here. You were her only daughter, and she didn’t come to your graduation from an elite program, not that you’d mentioned it. He could tell it was bothering you.

In that moment, however, all he could think about was how he didn’t see it sooner. Well, that and the fact that Maverick was staring him down with a puzzled look, like he was trying to fit two mismatched pieces together.

Bob swallowed hard under the pin of those calculating eyes and tried to wash it down with more beer, which just made it worse. He ended up sputtering through his sip and had to turn away so he didn’t spray foam all over your feet.

“I don’t tell many people because it tends to freak them out.” You sent eye daggers at Rooster while you walked around the table to stand beside Bob. You laid a hand on his shoulder while he got control of his coughing. “If I had known you two knew each other, I would have-”

“It’s-” He wheezed, “fine.”

“So,” Maverick inhaled, “I didn’t mean to interrupt the party. I just wanted to give this to Y/N.” He drew the bag out from behind him and held it out to you.

Keeping a hand on Bob’s arm, you grabbed onto the little twine handles and peeked inside.

“You got fancy paper and everything,” you teased, pulling out blue and white tissue paper. Glancing up at the others, you smirked. “On my tenth birthday, he used the newspaper for wrapping after he’d spilled coffee all over it.”

“Sounds about right,” Rooster said.

When you got passed the paper, the bag fell right out of your hands, and your fingers fell away from your boyfriend’s bicep. You started to shake.

“Y/N?” Bob’s head tilted forward to look into your face, which had gone pale. “You okay?”

You held up the dark leather bomber jacket, reading the embroidered name on the pocket.

Y/F/N/ “Rebel” Y/L/N.

“Dad, this is-” your voice caught in your throat, finding yourself shaky on your feet. You leaned against Bob to keep upright. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Setting the jacket on the green felt, you threw your arms around your father.

Bob made sure the jacket didn’t fall off the corner and watched the happy moment with the shock of the moment fading into the feeling of seeing that smile on your face.

The rest of the group applauded. Hangman rolled his eyes playfully, but Bob could tell he was just being… well, Hangman.

“Alright, enough ‘Father of the Bride’,” Hangman teased. “Can we get back to our game now? I believe Roost and I here were about to kick the lovebirds out of their nest.”

Bob scowled at him. Well, as much as Bob could scowl. To you, he just looked adorable.

“You ready to put some money where that mouth is, Hangman?” You challenged, breaking away from your dad to put your hand on your hip.

“She did learn from the best,” Maverick added. “Fair warning.”

“If you’re as good a pool player as you are a teacher, I think we’ll be just fine.” A grin spread across Hangman’s face.

“Alright, Confirmed Kills,” you said, letting him know you knew exactly who he was and you didn’t care. “Whoever loses buys the next round-” Before he could scoff, you continued, “and treats everyone to a round of duet karaoke to a song of the winner’s choice.”

You were going to enjoy wiping that cocky smirk off his face. Hangman held out his hand.

“You’ve got a deal,” he winked, “Mini Mav.” Hangman lined up another shot.

Pete watched you settle in with the group, fitting in like you’d all known each other forever. Of course, you and Bradly had known each other since you were kids, but the way you were with the rest of them… it was easy to see that you belonged there.

What he still couldn’t quite figure out was the boyfriend situation.

Bob?

Really?

It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, of course. It just came as a bit of a surprise. Pete had met the guys you’d dated in the past, and they certainly weren’t, well, Bob.

As if the kid could read his mind, he glanced over at Pete.

Bob instantly looked away, trying to focus on you as you hit the Q-Ball. Of course, you were bent over, which meant he was looking at your ass, which of course made him panic even more. The last thing he wanted was for your dad to watch him watching you… in that way… oh God, this was going to be really hard.

The voice in his head, which sounded weirdly like Hangman, made a crude joke.

Bob chugged the rest of his beer before his turn.

The group migrated out of the Hard Deck like a little tipsy flock of geese. Rooster and Hangman had just finished their stunningly bad rendition of ‘It’s Raining Men’ after losing to you and Bob at the pool table. They also each bought a round for the whole group, hence the slight sway to your step as you all climbed down the steps leading to the sand.

Hangman, of course, had decided that everyone needed an encore.

“I’m gonna go out,” he sang, “and let myself get-”

He held out an empty bottle to you like it was a microphone. You rolled your eyes, but just couldn't help but join.

“Absolutely soaking wet!”

Everyone erupted in laughter, and you hooked your arm around Bob’s waist, to which Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy all made kissy noises.

“Gross!” Rooster whined over them, flashing you a grin. “Get a room, you two!”

“Oh, I plan to,” you shot back. You could practically feel your boyfriend blush. “I’ll see you at the ceremony, yeah?”

Rooster rustled your hair. "Wouldn't miss it, Cinderella.”

“We will be there, Mini Mav,” Hangman said. He glanced over your shoulder, winking.“Take it easy with that one, Baby on Board.”

Bob scoffed, shaking his head as the group shuffled off.

“Oh, ignore him.” You leaned into him, the leather of your jacket smooth against his skin. You mussed his hair and stood on your toes to kiss his cheek. “He’s just jealous.” You wrapped your arms around his middle, tucking your head under his chin. You breathed him in along with the salt of the ocean and the lingering scent of beer. “I missed you.”

Bob enveloped you in his arms, smiling contently against the top of your head. “I missed you, too, baby.” He tensed suddenly, stepping away. You let out a pouty sigh, finding his gaze focused behind you. “Hi, Captain Mitchell.”

“Lt. Reynolds.” Maverick leveled his stare on your boyfriend, feigning seriousness. After he was sure the young man was good and freaked out, he cracked a smile. “Relax, Bob. It’s supposed to be a celebration.”

Bob, in fact, did not relax.

You hugged your dad again for a long while, lowering your voice. “Thank you, Dad. For everything.”

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N.” Pete fought to keep his voice from cracking. He cleared his throat. “You’re, um, you’re mother wanted me to tell you congrats, too.”

Bob watched your shoulders stiffen and your head tilt.

“Sure she did,” you said. Tugging on your sleeves, you put a smile back on your face. “And this is too big, by the way.”

Pete’s face fell. “Really? I could have sworn I-”

“Dad,” you snickered, “I’m messing with you.” You punched his shoulder, glad to be passed the unpleasant topic you’d been avoiding for the last several days. Raising a brow, you added, “You staying with Penny?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he laughed.

“What look?” You shrugged innocently. Reaching back for Bob’s hand, you laced your fingers together. “I’ve been renting her place down by the water.” You looked back at your boyfriend. “I figured we could head back and make some s'mores.”

It was very clear by your tone that you were not talking about marshmallows and chocolate. Bob’s blood surged, rushing by his ears.

He really missed you.

You glanced back at Pete. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Hey, I’m allowed ‘that look’,” Pete said. “And I’ll be by in the morning for a run.”

You groaned. “Really? Do I have to train the morning of my graduation?”

He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Just be decent by the time I get there, yeah?” He ignored the paternal urge to lecture you about not being stupid- which, of course, he knew would make him a hypocrite.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, kid.” He started back toward the bar to meet up with his girlfriend- a woman more like your mother than your actual mother since you moved to North Island for the course. Maverick waved back at the two of you. “Goodnight, Bob.” Bob started to say something, but the words just caught in his throat, so he ducked his head instead.

You hooked your arm through his and started along the beach to the quaint property you’d been renting from Penny for the last few months. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on the water in ripples of light. This was your favorite time--when the waves caught reflections of the stars and the moon in every crest and the world was an odd mix of still and alive, peaceful and energetic. There was an electricity to the evening that most people missed, but you always felt it, whether it was in the jukebox at Penny’s or walking along the beach now, head leaning against the shoulder of the man you loved.

“You’re doing that thing,” you said, jutting out your bottom lip in a mock pout.

Bob blinked, like you’d snapped him out of a trance. “What thing?”

“The ‘I’m overwhelmed so I’m going to just stop talking and maybe forget to breathe a little’ thing,” you teased, but your eyes were sincere as you looked up at him, bringing you both to a stop along the sand. “Does it really bother you?” Confusion made his nose crinkle in that really cute way, so you clarified with a snort. “My dad being, well, my dad.”

“Oh. Um. That.” Bob fixed his glasses further up on his nose. He did that when he was nervous, too. “No.” And his voice went up an octave- another tell-tale sign that he was on the verge of a mini Bob Breakdown. “W-why would it bother me?”

You raised a brow.

He exhaled a short sigh. “Okay. Maybe it’s a little weird.”

“Tell you what.” You played with the collar of his shirt. “How about, for tonight, it’s just you and me? No Top Gun. No famous pilot dads or moms who don’t-” You cut off with a sharp breath.

Bob took your hands in his, pulling you forward to kiss your forehead. “I think that sounds great.” Bob wrapped an arm around you, keeping you tucked next to him while you walked across the beach.

And just like that, the constant buzz in your body, the one that had kept you going at Mach 10 for the last few months, settled. You never knew how he did it, but Bob was the only person in the world who could bring you back to earth.

There was something you took pride in knowing when nobody else did- WSO Lt. Robert Floyd was a really good kisser. Whether it was your lips or your neck or another stretch of skin against his lips, every touch was slow and perfect and just enough to make you a little bit crazy. And, at the moment, that was exactly what he was doing.

Bob’s mouth trailed lazily over your collarbone, his arms draped around your waist, hair tussled from the night before, and pressed so close to you it was almost hard to tell whose warm, sweat-dotted skin was whose.

“Morning,” Bob muttered sleepily against you. His lips made their way up to yours, but not before stopping at your jaw, at the little spot behind your ear he knew would make you blush.

The small touch alone was enough to make your body ignite with the memory of everything that you did last night. The two of you had a lot of making up to do and, needless to say, you certainly succeeded.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and gave him a tired smile. “Good morning.”

“Want some coffee?” Bob asked. His hair, usually neat and slicked back, flopped into his face in messy spikes. You pushed it back, letting your fingers glide through his light brown strands.

“You’re a godsend.”

The corners of his lips teased upward. He kissed you again. “I know.” He pulled back, but couldn’t resist just one more kiss. “I love you.”

You almost took him again right there. “I love you, too, Robert.”

He climbed out of bed despite your little huffs of protest and put on some sweats. You started to get up after him, but he stopped you. “I’ll bring it to you. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Breakfast in bed?” You said. “How fancy.”

“Well, I think that the top of Top Gun deserves a little spoiling.”

“We don’t know if I’m first yet.”

“Then call this wishful thinking.” He pointed at you. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Aye aye, lieutenant."

Bob chuckled, shaking his head, and went out to the kitchen to start the pot of coffee and put bread in the toaster.

A knock at the door barely stirred you from the bed.

“I’ll get it!” Bob called back. “You stay in that bed or I’ll make you.”

“Promises, promises!” You giggled back.

Bob was turned back, looking toward the bedroom where he could just see you grinning at him from the bed, when he opened the front door.

“It’s a little early to be selling something-” He started, immediately cutting himself off when he saw that it was definitely not a salesman at the door.

Maverick cleared his throat. “Good morning, lieutenant."

Bob- who wore a t-shirt to play beach football- stood there in the doorway, shirtless, without his glasses, and his entire body turning the color of a bad sunburn.

It was in that instant that you remembered you were supposed to go for a run with your father. Who was now at the door. With Bob. Who definitely looked like he got laid last night.

“Shit shit shit.” You scrambled to gather your running clothes, almost falling over when you put on your leggings. “I’ll be right there!”

“You better!” Pete yelled back at you. “If you aren’t out in five, I’m showing your boyfriend baby pictures.”

Your mind immediately went to all of the worst ones, and you got dressed a little faster.

“I’m gonna, um-” Bob tried to figure out how to talk again. “I’ll go put a shirt on.”

Maverick stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Good idea.”

Bob shuffled toward the bedroom, getting enough courage to turn back and say, “I do want to see those baby pictures, though.”

Maverick cracked a smile and took a seat on the sofa. “They’re pretty hilarious. She’ll hate it.”

Bob slipped into the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind him. “I think I just lost five years of my life.”

You couldn’t help but snicker and lay your hands on his very pink cheeks. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m half naked!” He squeaked, trying to keep his voice down, which was just even cuter. “Do you think he knows? Does he think that we…”

“I’d rather not speculate as to what my dad has realized about my sex life, baby.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips and finished getting dressed. “And yes, he definitely knows.”

Bob groaned and fell face-first back onto the bed. Sitting on the edge beside him, you slipped on your running shoes. Bob rolled over, frowning.

“I’m meeting up with the others to go to the ceremony, so I’ll probably just see you there,” he said.

“That’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’m getting ready with a few of the women in class. We’re helping each other get our hair to stick down, because, believe me, it’s not easy.”

“Don’t I know it?” he teased. “It takes me hours to look this good.”

You reached over and rustled his hair so he yelped. Bob tackled you in revenge, attacking your sides with tickling jabs.

“If you aren’t out in five seconds, I’m coming in there!” Pete yelled. “And believe me, I really don’t want to. One… two… three…”

You opened the door. Behind you, Bob sat ramrod straight on the bed. With an innocent smile, you jogged passed your dad.

“Come on, old man. Let’s see if I can still beat you to the water.”

“I always let you win and you know it.”

The two of you ran out of the small beach house, leaving Bob to catch his breath. He wanted to say he was happy. He admired Maverick more than anyone. That was the problem. He admired Maverick because of a mission Bob had grappled with for months.

How could he tell you he’d left your father to die?

#top gun maverick #call sign rebel #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #call sign bob #lewis pullman #lewis pullman imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 16 days ago

Text

That's the Job

Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x (f) reader.

Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, betrayal, emotions, anxiety, heartbreak, workplace romance, coworkers to lovers, confessions, oral(f receiving), fingering.

Snippet:

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

"And you lied." his voice took a tone of hurt.

☆☆☆☆☆

A week has passed since the nightmarish incident. That day, all staff at Top Gun were informed, as is protocol, of the crash that resulted from a sudden birdstrike during field training, nearly taking the lives of two pilots. Both of whom had been close friends of yours.

Thankfully, both Natasha and Bob survived. Although, they and Coyote were rushed to the hospital for urgent care and testing.

But part of your job description as a rookie R&D Analyst was to assess post-mortems, and when you got your eyes on the images of jet – completely destroyed and burned, your mind flooded with awful hypothetical images.

They were lucky – you realized. Because one minute longer, one detail off, and they could have been gone. He could have been gone. For good.

Images flashed in your mind. Blood and lifeless brown eyes...

Your chest hurt.

Before anyone in the office could notice, you turned away from your computer screen – leaving the images of the destroyed jet on display – and strode out of the room.

☆☆☆☆☆

Engineers — even brilliant ones — didn't go into a job expecting to confront the potential violent death of the people they worked with. It’s not part of their emotional framework. So as a young adult that was new to the field, watching Bob and Phoenix nearly die did something to your brain. Making it scramble for control. And the easiest way it could think to do that was Distance. Detachment. You never wanted to feel that way again.

Prior to the crash, you had been assigned a project; a request to improve the laser nav systems, submitted by Lt. Robert Floyd. You and the WSO had gotten along extremely well, right off the bat. He didn't discard your ideas like many members of your own team did, and you were extremely impressed by his expertise as a Weapons Systems Officer and overall badass.

And he was kind. He often came across as technical and serious, but you found yourself inspired by his dedication to his job.

He was also... distracting.

When you two worked together when you just couldn't help a glance over at him. Your eyes tended to linger.

On his lips pressing together when he would concentrate. On the movement of his arms – muscular under his uniform, muscular from days of training out in the sun as he disassembled and assembled the machine you were working on. On the gentle hums he would make when you had suggested an idea and the way he would listen with the most intense gaze, afraid to miss a detail. On the way, his hair was a curly blonde mess falling into his forehead after a long day of training – the only time he could come and assist you with the project.

And what's worse? He was brilliant! He knew his stuff almost too well. Every observation, every test, and every note was detailed to near obsession.

You pointed it out once.

It had been when he had disassembled the laser chamber, displaying each piece on the desk and labeling them to perfect accuracy.

"I didn't know pilots knew so much about the cogs and gears of the weapons systems." You had murmured, not thinking much of it.

"I'm a Weapons Systems Officer." He leveled you with a smirk.

Your face must have gone red, because his smirk widened into a laugh.

He offered you his hand as if to introduce himself. "Hi I'm Bob. It’s my job to use the systems in combat. If it fails, I take the hit."

"Sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

He shook his head, laughing. "Don't apologize, I get that a lot. Just know I’m not just here to press buttons and look good in a uniform.” He winked, a rare gesture from him, and it was enough to ease a smile out of you.

Alright, so he was smart, beautiful, snarky, and also a badass. Great.

You always looked forward to interacting with the aviators, but it was different with him. It made you giddy. And you often had to remind yourself to be professional.

Annoyingly, thoughts of him would often cut into your personal life. At the gym, you motivated yourself with memories of him doing push-ups with his fellow flyers on the concrete. Sweaty and tired but still determined, and God damned resilient. With your friends, you'd re-told some of you work stories, which mostly involved him. And when you were by yourself...

That aside, you two had even made great progress on your project to improve the laser systems. In fact, the day of the bird strike, Bob was testing out a new fix you two had come up with.

Now, it had been destroyed along with the rest of the plane. And what's worse, you were pretty sure what you did next was going to hurt him even more

Because that evening, after you dried your tears in the bathroom and got your breathing under control, you requested to be reassigned from working with Bob on the project.

☆☆☆☆☆

You went through the next few days on autopilot, burying yourself in your work. Your new projects were dull, but dull meant safe. Your coworkers helped. They joked, they complained, they distracted you. They left at reasonable hours.

The aviators were all back at the academy, too busy pushing their bodies past the edge of human capability. Their breaks were short, their evenings longer. You barely passed them in the halls, and you were grateful for it.

Occasionally, the uncomfortable conversation you'd had with Bob would replay in your head.

On the day he was discharged from the Military Hospital, it was 18:05 when Bob strode through the metal doors of the hangar. Boots, cargo pants, white shirt — the usual. He carried his tablet under one arm, his dog tags tapping softly against his chest.

“We lost the prototype with the last jet, so we’re back to square one,” he said as he walked up to your table. "We gotta move fast to catch up—"

He paused.

You were perched on the edge of the desk, your work bag at your side. Not unusual in itself — end of the day and all — but you weren’t unpacking, rearranging, or reviewing notes. You were just sitting there. Like you were done.

His expression shifted. "Are you going somewhere?"

You stood, shouldering your bag. Just say it, you told yourself. Be professional. Clean cut.

"Lieutenant," you said, voice steady, "it’s been an honor working with you. But I’m stepping away from the project."

He blinked. "...Can I ask why?"

You hesitated. He was waiting — not with anger or even with disappointment, just that open Bob-ness that made it worse somehow. So trusting.

"I’m just not interested in the project anymore," you said quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

There was a beat of silence.

"That’s… sudden," he said slowly.

You looked away.

Then, he spoke up softly. "Was it something I did?"

Your stomach twisted. "No," you answered too fast. "Not at all. It’s not you."

"I thought we worked well together," he said, softer now. "Didn’t we?"

"We did." You adjusted the strap on your shoulder. "This isn’t personal. I just… want to try something else."

He nodded, but not like someone who believed you. More like someone who was trying really hard not to push.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat and standing straighter. "Good luck with whatever’s next."

You nodded and offered a tight smile. "You too."

You'd jerk back and shake your head as if trying to force the thought away willingly.

☆☆☆☆☆

You’d stayed late in your cubicle, distracted by some calibration notes. You barely registered the footsteps in the hallway until a shadow fell over your desk.

"Hey."

You looked up.

He stood in the doorway, uniform loose on his frame, dark bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, his dog tags still.

Iceman's funeral was mere days ago. It had really hit the aviator's morale. The death of a legend. Someone who'd been a mentor to them.

One hand clutched the strap of his bag like it was the only thing grounding him.

"I’m flying out tomorrow," he said.

You blinked. " …you were picked."

An unsettling feeling began to grow in your stomach. Either anxiety. Or fear for his safety. You weren't sure at the moment.

"Phoenix and I." He nodded. "With Mav."

"Congratulations." Your throat closed. You set your pen down, bracing your hands on the desk to stop their tremble. "Who else?"

"Rooster. Payback. Fanboy."

You nodded slowly.

Then, your voice caught as you said. "Be careful."

He didn't react. Almost as if deliberately. At first, it looked like he was ready to leave, but then his gaze was back on you.

"You know," He took a small step forward. "I asked Phoenix and Hangman about you."

You raised your brow, unsure where he was going with that.

He took another step, coming closer. "Figured maybe you needed space. But… turns out they haven’t heard from you either. None of us have."

You backed up just a little until the edge of the desk pressed into your hip. "You were all busy."

"Oh, we’d have made time." He paused — not hurt, just searching. The rest of his sentence was implied in his furrowed brow. And you know it.

It was true. Being one of the youngest recruits, you were closer in age with the mission candidates and have grown quite close with all of them through your work. And you've been avoiding them like the plague in hopes you wouldn't have to see any of them possibly die...

"See…" Bob cleared his throat. "I was going crazy, trying to figure out what I did wrong. Thought maybe I’d said something. Maybe come off too strong."

You didn’t allow yourself to speak. How could you explain leaving them in a way that didn't make you sound childish?

"I saw you nearly die and it fucked me up. But since you do this for a living and something... worse could happen, I'm scared of what it would do to me, so the less we interact the better."

Yeah, good luck with that.

His voice softened. "And then I realized. It was that day. Wasn’t it?"

You inhaled sharply, eyes stinging.

He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd you, but enough to make you feel him. "The crash."

You looked down. "You nearly died, Bob."

"But we didn’t."

"But you still could have!" Your voice cracked. "And what if you... don't walk away next time?"

His tone lowered, serious. "That’s the job."

"Well, I don’t do what you do!" You sniffled. "I haven’t had friends die mid-air or disappear off the radar. I'm not used to this. I'm not wired for it. And hearing you drop like that—seeing what was left of the plane... if you were still inside—"

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

You found yourself wondering this to no end for the past says.

"And you lied." his voice was hurt now.

You flinched.

But he didn't fill the silence, waiting for you to speak.

"I didn’t want to tell you because…" you swallowed. "Because if I said it out loud, it’d mean I couldn’t handle it. That I’m not strong enough for this. For any of this.”

That I don't belong here. At the job I've dreamed of since I first picked up a physics textbook back in elementary school.

Silence. A breathless, raw silence that pulsed between you like static.

Deep, beautiful brown eyes searched your face. He was so close bow. "You think I don’t get scared too?"

You swallowed hard.

His hand brushed your cheek. Barely there. And still, you felt it like lightning.

He leaned in — close enough you could see the pale gold of his lashes that brushed his cheeks.

Then he stopped. Right there. Inches away. His breath uneven.

"I want to," he whispered.

Your breath caught. You looked up at him, eyes glossy. For a second, he leaned in — the moment hanging in the air like a held breath.

Your eyes held his, steady now.

The words were on the tip of your tongue.

If you're going to kiss me... you'd better come back.

He hesitated, then stepped back. A full, aching step. "This isn't right."

Your chest squeezed. He was walking away and taking his warmth with him and what if he wasn't coming back.

Timidly, your hands moved from their place behind you and grasped as his uniform, and you brought your lips to his.

He gasped. The soft intake of hair brushing your lips. Then his arms wrapped around your waste and tightened, pulling you into himself.

He deepened the kiss. Lips possessive over yours, brushing in a slow but powerful movement that barely gave you a chance to take a breath as he took a step forward. Your back was against your desk.

Capable hands brushed over your body, as if memorizing it.

You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. What if this was the first and last time?

Sometimes, his timid demeanors made it easy to forget he was an battle-hardened soldier, a fact that was very evident now by the way he lifted you up with ease and held you like you weighed nothing.

He groaned against your mouth, his glasses brushing your nose.

"Its not fair to do this." His tone was quiet but hard.

With a sinking feeling, you nodded, agreeing. But as your harms began to lower from around his neck, he began to kiss down your throat, not as keen on stopping as you thought he was. Each brush of his lips or his tongue on your sensitive neck sent you gasping arching into him.

Thank god you'd stayed late and most people had gone home for the day.

Your fingers curled into his dirty blonde locks, also attempting to memorize the feel of him.

"M-maybe we should stop?" You stammered.

"Yeah," he nodded, though his fingers were undoing the buttons of your long-sleeved shirt, pulling it out of your skirt. "After, we'll stop."

You couldn't help but giggle, then shudder against the cold air hitting your skin all at once. He gently pushed you to lay down with your back to the desk.

Most of your shirt was still mostly on, only open at the front. His movement was slow and deliberate, lowering your bra straps and cups like he was disassembling a machine. Then he took your breasts in his hands and rolled his thumbs over your nipples.

Your breath caught as pleasure shot through your beasts and you moaned before your could stop yourself. He lowered his mouth on yours to remind you to be quiet.

You felt one of his hands travel down from your breast to the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, making you shake. He pulled your panties aside and slid his finger into your heat.

"Oh fuck," he was struggling to keep quiet too.

You could feel how slick you were, how easily he could slide his digit in and around your pussy, spreading your slick around and over your clit.

You looked up at him, as your chest still rose and fell with his stimulation of your left nipple. Bob had his lower lip between his teeth, eyes scanning your face and body, committing them to memory.

Then he lowered to his knees. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you felt his tongue join his fingers.

"Nhn!"

You were getting very close.

His mouth began to move your your folds. Kissing you, licking, sucking your clit. He added another finger inside you, curving and making you buck your hips.

Your hands grasped the edge of your desk. Everything he was doing was sending waves of pleasure through your body. Palm still over your mouth, you bit your finger to stop the moans slipping out.

Then, as if he sensed you were there, he sped up his mouth and fingers.

Oh god.

You couldn't stop panting loudly as you reached your orgasm. Hips shuddering and bucking against him, you fingers grasped hus hair, needing him closer.

His mouth was on you throughout. Still leaving slow, gentle kisses on your poor, sensitive cunt as you came down from the high.

Standing up, he cupped the nape of your neck and brought you up to taste yourself on his lips.

He kissed you for a long time. You don't know how long.

"I had to." He said against your mouth. "I had to know what you tasted like."

The words made your breath catch. "Promise me you'll come back," your voice broke.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck. "I can’t promise that," his voice barely audible in your ear.

You nodded, even though it cracked something in you.

Bob lingered in the doorway. Just before he turned, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh — by the way… the laser nav works perfectly." A faint smile. "We fixed it."

And then he was gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

#top gun x reader #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun incorrect quotes #top gun bob floyd #top gun bob #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #lewis pullman

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sorchathered · 1 year ago

Text

Robert "Bob" Floyd Masterlist

*Indicates Smut

Series

One Shots

Something in the Orange*

In your Love (Part 2 of something in the orange)*

Pride, Prejudice, and Flyboys*

Man of your dreams

Can't fight this feeling

You’re still the one *

Guilty Eyes and Little White Lies *

It would've been you *

As you wish*

Let's do IT for our Country *

Blurbs

Rumors

Not so secret, secret.

Bob Thoughts/Interpretations

Honeymooning with Bob

Taking Bob to Disneyland

Bob with a goth girlfriend

Back from deployment

When you get jealous over him

#bob floyd #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #robert bob floyd

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delopsia · 1 year ago

Note

love all the older rhett this older bob that but do you know what i really really reallyyyy want? older rhett and older bob at the same time

Every gear in my head just came to a screeching halt, Jesus christ.

Oh, to be the controversially younger s/o of Admiral Robert Floyd and Pro Bullrider Rhett Abbott 😔✌ could you IMAGINE?

The whispers that follow as you mosey into the Hard Deck in some cute little outfit that breaks every Navy regulation imaginable, intentionally too short to get under Bobby's skin. Nobody's got the slightest clue who you are, where you came from, or who your heart might belong to, but oh, they're trying to get your attention. For a moment, the bar is loud.

But then you're walking right up to Admiral Floyd and planting yourself in his big, warm lap, and the room deflates. Scandalized whispers and wide eyes eating up the way your fingers comb through the whisps of gray in his hair. Bob knows what they're all thinking, and yet all he cares about is showing you off. This pretty thing snuggled up in his lap, playing with his hair while his big hand rubs up and down your thigh.

Oh, but that's not the end of it because there's an arena a few miles away hosting the PBR that night, and everyone is going. It's the one new, fun event of the year, and it's got the attention of the whole town. Eyes are already on you after your stunt at the bar. Even as you settle down in the bleachers, you can feel those nameless pilots paying attention to your every move.

Then Rhett fucking Abbott, rough and tumble cowboy who's been making headlines for his looks all season, comes bursting out of the chute. Rides some beast of a bull to his eight seconds, disappears for a few rides, then reappears up in the stands. Him and his salt and pepper scruff, kissing up on you and Bobby, big hands squeezing your hip and Bob's lithe waist.

Ugh, it's all over a local news outlet the next morning, and both men are so damn well established that nobody can do a damn thing about it. It would take three to pick up Bob's workload, and not one of those bull riders has been able to match Rhett's latest records. And they know it.

But they're so good with you. Protective but not overly so, the power lies in your hands, and they're more than content to fall into the places you need them to. Whether that be shouldering forward to have a word with someone who's been bugging you at the bar or sitting back and watching over you as you handle it yourself.

Sometimes, they struggle to keep up with your terms and references, but they do try their best to make up for the age gap. It makes for an interesting dynamic; their biggest worry is accidentally alienating you, which ends in countless movie nights so that you can understand each other's jokes. Introducing Rhett to modern applications and begging Bob to quit with the highly technical terms. Neither you nor Rhett understand what he's saying, and if he explains, it only gets worse.

Bob spoils you rotten; he's got more money than he knows what to do with, and you get whatever your pretty little heart wants. You haven't paid for a damn thing in years; you've tried, but even if you slip past the detection of one, you're caught in the crosshairs of the other.

On his long days, he'll send you and Rhett off shopping with his card, and you two always get up to something. It's been three months since Rhett sent that video of your pretty hips rolling against Rhett's new boots, biting at his thigh, whispering something that sounded like a plea for Bob to come home early.

Sometimes, he winds up with lewd photos of you riding Rhett in your new lingerie. Then there was that one time you two got an old Polaroid camera, stuffed the photos into a cute box, and sent it to his work to be delivered to him at his desk. That one ended in you and Rhett both limping, but it was so, so worth it. You're already working on your second batch of photos.

Rhett isn't as financially well-off, can't buy you all the bells and whistles, but he kisses you half to death and whispers the prettiest praises in your ears. He's snuggling you when you're both missing Bobby, and he's leaving you sweet messages while he's on a rodeo circuit, mailing small things that remind him of you and Bob. A hand-carved figurine of three running horses, hand-knit blankets from small-town shops.

Drives you two damn near mad with all those photos of his hard cock straining against his jeans, grunts your names over and over and over as he gets himself off to the sight of you and Bobby on his screen.

He loves making you two ride him. Whispering about how, "Want this ol' cowboy to teach ya how to ride, hm?" and making you work for it until your thighs are shivering. Draws you down to fall into his chest as he fucks up into you, too damn strong for his own good.

If you happen to be gone, then your phone never shuts up. They're a mess. One minute, you're rolling your eyes at a POV video of Rhett chasing Bob around the backyard for stealing his popsicle. The next, you're praying nobody overhears hears the secondary video of Rhett railing Bobby into the mattress, muttering about how "this coulda been you, but you're so far away, babydoll."

Its when you're together all at once, that you fully wear each other out. You would think they'd tire easily, but they could go for hours if they want to.

Sometimes they'll take turns with you, pumping you full of their cum and stepping back to let the other play with you for a while. At some point you have to tap out, batting their fingers away when they try to push it back into your spent pussy. It always ends in a need to change the sheets, because they make such a damn mess.

They're equally willing to let you take full control. Sitting on their knees at the foot of the bed, letting you haul them around by their hair and content to follow your every order. The sight of such powerful men at their most vulnerable is something else entirely.

But the best times are when you wake up snuggled between their big, warm bodies. Two pairs of blue eyes smiling fondly at the sight of you yawning, nuzzling into Rhett's broad chest, pulling Bob's arm tighter around you, asking for a few more minutes.

They both love you to death and will show you off as much as you'll allow of them. If you want to perch yourself on their arms for a big-title navy event or a PBR after-party, then that's what you'll get to do. But if you'd prefer to stay home, then they'll move heaven and earth to make sure they can share that with you, too. Regardless of the differences and the gaps between your ages, you'll be wrapped up in these two old men for a long, long time.

#im gonna walk into a church and burst into flames #rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #tw age gap

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 1 year ago

Text

The Witching Hour: Chapter 4

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Witchcraft, Rituals, Cheating, Forbidden Loves, Heartbreak, Pining, Swearing, Alcohol, I think that’s it?

-- Chapter 3 Here --

_____________________________

Bob stood facing the large group of women, eyes wide and terror creeping up from his chest like worms emerging from disturbed soil.

He didn’t know what was happening, and he certainly had no idea you were a witch, let alone the curses and rituals that dowsed your world in secrecy.

“What’s going on?” Bob asked carefully, as dozens of eyes locked onto him, menacing grins plastered across the faces of the women clad in lace and wicker.

“You’re just in time, the tide is coming in, Robert.” One older woman grinned, she stepped forward slowly.

Bob took a small step back and then tried to edge to the left towards you, but he was blocked by 3 women who seemingly flew towards him, so quick and smooth like their feet never touched the ground.

Bob stumbled backwards in surprise, landing on his bottom on the dry sand below, the sky above now almost as dark as night, as black clouds removed what little sunlight there was left. Lanterns and candles suddenly illuminated the faces and you struggled under your confines as Bobs terror and confusion grew.

The women hovered over Bob and inspected him, the older woman nodded and gestured to the others, who grabbed ahold of Bobs arms and pulled him to his feet.

Bob struggled, “What’s going on?” He demanded, but even for a man his size, the women were too strong.

“You came willingly.” One explained.

Bob looked at her with an exasperated expression, “Of course I came willingly, there was a note.”

You sobbed a muffled cry through your gag, struggling as you hung above the slowly rising water.

Bob pulled free from the womens’ grip and ran over to you, making it more than halfway before suddenly his legs wouldn’t move any further. He stopped and looked down, first in confusion and then in horror.

His legs were encased in wet sand as strong as concrete, however he hadn’t sunk into the beach below, rather the sand had moved up his legs and pinned him in place.

“What the fuck?” Bob breathed to himself as he clawed at the sand, the women slowly circling him. “What is this?!”

“You mean our little Bree didn’t tell you? Poor boy, this must be quite a shock.” A red headed woman chuckled as she made her way from the back.

Bob said nothing as he tried to hack away at the sand which kept creeping further and further up his body, his eyes flitting between the sand and the woman who walked closer and closer.

Your muffled screams continued as you tried desperately to stop what was happening.

“I bet she’ll want to tell you herself.” The redhead said, and flicked her fingers. The gag flew out of your mouth and you coughed as fresh sea air filled your lungs.

You gasped, your lungs not filling quick enough for the urgency of the situation.

“Robby, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed as soon as you could pull in a breath.

“Bree what’s happening?” Bob looked at you, his eyes brimming with fear, his jaw locked and you swore you could see his bottom lip quivering. Your heart broke and you hated yourself for being so stupid.

“I shouldn’t have invited you round, but I was being selfish, this would never have happened if I’d just left you alone.” You cried, “Aunt Gilly, please! This is all a misunderstanding, it’s not him.” You lied.

“Oh honey.” She tutted at you, “The bones landed on your name, and the bones never lie. We saw you with him last night, if he’s not your true love then who is?”

You thought for a long moment, and made eye contact with Bob as you spoke, “There’s no one. I don’t love him, I just wanted to hurt that bitch he was with.”

Bob doubled over as he drew in a shaky breath, the impact of your words physically knocking into him, his eyes welled up and his eyebrows knit together at the betrayal as he stared into yours. Your face was stern and stone cold as you looked back at his handsome, sad face.

“Why would you do that?” Aunt Gilly asked, amusement plastered across her pretty features.

You took a deep breath, “She gave me a dirty look.”

“Is that it?” Gilly scoffed.

“No, then she… then she called me an ugly whore. I couldn’t take it, I hated her from that moment and I… just needed to get revenge.” You lied. “I would rather die alone than be with Bob.”

Tears slid out from Bobs eyes as he looked down at the ground, your words sinking into his bones like acid. How could he have been so stupid to think this total stranger loved him the way he loved her?

You tore your eyes away from Bob and looked to aunt Gilly. “I know you need your ritual, but it won’t work if I don’t love him, right?” You pointed out.

She thought for a moment, before nodding.

“Cut her down.” She instructed to the others. “We’ll redo the selection ceremony tonight, it must have been a mistake. Wouldn’t want my niece to die in error, after all.”

“We’ll have to wipe his memory.” One of the others piped up.

“I’ll do it.” You said quickly, as you were helped down, your body gliding over the water and onto the dry sand. You ran over to Bob as the sand began to retreat from his shaky legs, and he collapsed onto his knees.

You cupped Bobs face and forced him to look at you, his eyes watery and yours determined. As soon as your iris’s lined up, you concentrated and your voice rang around Bobs head.

“I lied, I have a lot to explain but you need to pretend to forget, just until we’re out of here.”

“Huh?” Bob said out loud.

“Shh! Talk in your head, Robby, I can hear you.” You instructed.

“I’m scared, Bree, what’s happening?” He thought.

“I’ll explain everything I promise. I need you to act like you don’t know what just happened, now.” You instructed.

Bob played along and shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked around.

“What… what happened?” He asked.

“Nothing, Bob. You were running along the beach and you must have hit your head, we found you lying here. Are you okay?” You pretended.

Bob nodded carefully as you helped him stand to his feet, still a bit wobbly.

You looked around at the others, who seemed satisfied, almost too easily tricked, and smiled at them. “I’m gonna take him to his bed and breakfast, make sure he’s okay.”

Aunt Gilly nodded, but there was still a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Don’t be long, we have some talking to do.”

Gilly and the other witches left the deserted beach and finally, when they were out of sight, you let in a deep breath and sobbed. You collapsed into the sand, your chest closing up as the reality of the situation dawned on you.

They may have bought the lie for now, but they’d soon throw the bones again and realise you'd lied. They wouldn't take it well considering you'd broken a sacred rule for the sake of a man.

Bob dropped to his knees and held you as you sobbed, more confused than ever. You wrapped your arms around him to anchor yourself until you could breathe again.

“We have to go.” You whispered, looking up at him finally.

“Bree what is going on?” He cupped your face and looked at you with a desperation in his eyes.

“I lied to them Robby, and we don’t have much time.”

————————————

Bob unlocked his room door and you quickly pushed inside and locked the door behind you.

You grabbed Bobs duffle bag and began stuffing his things inside haphazardly, rushing around the room with a sense of urgency Bob had never seen before. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched, until you instructed him to get what he needed.

“Bree, stop. Stop!” He walked over and grabbed your arms, forcing you to stop and look at him.

Your eyes began to well up as you looked back into his, and you brought a hand up to cup his face. “I’m so sorry Bob, I should have told you- actually I should have just left you alone.”

Bob shook his head in disbelief, “Surely you don’t mean that? I wouldn’t change a thing, Bree. I know you said you don’t love me but-“

You shushed him and shook your head. “No, I lied to them, I had to. I do love you, and I can’t believe I’m saying that not even a week after meeting you, but I feel like… like we've been here before, Bob.” You whispered, your eyes falling to your feet.

Bobs lips curled into a grin, his eyes softening as he tilted your chin up. “I am head over heels in love with you, and I don’t care how or why.” Bob pressed his lips to yours and you both sighed at the contact, electricity zapping through your bodies. Your arms moved to wrap around Bobs neck, and his hands fell to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

You kissed him gently, savouring the feeling of his lips on yours, and his big hands protectively holding you. You felt safe, for just a moment.

Bob pulled away reluctantly and rested his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as he sighed once more.

“Please just tell me what’s going on, Bree, I just want to be on the same page.”

You nodded, and took a step back. “You better sit down.”

Bob did as he was instructed and you paced up and down the room, trying to decide how best to explain everything.

You took a deep breath.

“I’m a witch. Not ironically, like… a real witch. Magic and everything. Those women were witches too, the one with the red hair is my aunt.” You looked at Bob for a moment to gauge his expression. Bob stared back at you confused, albeit not shocked.

You continued, “There’s sort of a curse on my family, which is why I should have left you alone, but… I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“What curse?” Bob interjected.

You turned to face Bob fully, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

“Any man who falls in love with one of us… dies. We don’t know when or how until it happens.”

Bob looked surprised now, his eyebrows pulling together as he looked at you.

“But… after my father died, the aunts figured out that a ritual sacrifice made in the name of true love once a year would put a stop to the curse. It’s not just my immediate family who are affected, turns out there are hundreds of us around the world, who have moved away and changed their names through marriage or adoption and they’re all affected the same exact way. So they came up with a selection system, all of our names- and I mean every single female descendant of the Owens bloodline, all of our names are on a chart. A polished breastbone is then placed in a bag of… Never mind, that part's not important. The bone is thrown onto the chart and the name it lands on, is the one chosen.” You blabbed on, and Bobs mouth hung open as he listened to you ramble.

“The higher powers select you, and you get taken. Once you die, or if your one true loves comes willingly to be sacrificed in your place, the curse is stopped for another year, and the other women can live peacefully with their loved ones. I just… never thought it would be me.”

Once you had finished, Bob was quiet as he stared at the ground, mulling over your words and their implications.

“So… once they find out it wasn’t a mistake, once the bone lands on your name again, they’ll come for us? And if I don’t take your place, they’ll…” Bob couldn’t finish his sentence, it made him want to be sick.

You nodded, “Yeah, they’ll kill me instead.”

Bob stood suddenly and crossed over to you, cupping your face again, “I won’t let that happen Bree, they can take me.” He said earnestly, his eyes swimming with panic and sincerity.

You shook your head and pulled away from Bobs grasp, “No, there is no chance in the heavens or hell that I’ll ever let that happen. That’s why we have to go, tonight. Get as far away as we can before they realise I lied. I’m pretty sure my aunt already knows, so we don’t have much time.” You pleaded.

Bob nodded and finished packing his things.

“Wait… what about your stuff?” He asked.

“I’ll have to go without, they’ll be at the house so we can’t go back. We’ll need to get off the island and catch a bus somewhere and we can sort the rest when we get there. Can we go to your house?”

Bob nodded, and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder before taking your hand and leaving the room hastily.

You walked out into the street, the sky still overcast and ominous as you scanned the area for any sign of the sisters. Upon finding it empty other than a few shoppers, you ran over to the bus stop.

The next bus was just pulling up so you were in luck, and you hurried on and made your way to the back with Bob. As the bus drove out of town, you watched. Watched for anything that could spell out your demise. Every unwitting pedestrian looked like one of the sisters, and every cat or crow looked like a familiar, causing your stomach to churn until the bus finally left the small island.

You sat back and breathed a sigh of relief and looked over to Bob who had a similar expression. "I'm sorry Robby." You whispered, intertwining your fingers with his.

"I'm not." He reassured you, bringing his arm up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into him, but you couldn’t help but hate yourself for putting him in this situation.

And you couldn’t help but feel this wasn’t the first time you’d put him in danger.

————————————

- Chapter 5 Here -

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topgun-imagines · 2 years ago

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Day 13: The Company We Keep

Pairings: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x fem!reader

Synopsis: one by one, your friends cut you off after you cost Bob his life in a tragic accident.

Warnings: death, ejections, plane crashes, depression, nightmares, insults & abandonment.

Word count: 1.2k

You remembered everything as if it was yesterday. Every time you closed your eyes, you could still hear his screams. The pained sounds your WSO let out as the two of you plummeted toward the ground haunted your mind when you were alone. If you had your way, you never would have ejected from that jet. You would have gone down with him. The shrink you had been forced to see called it survivor's guilt. Honestly, you didn’t care what it was called. You just wanted this feeling to go away.

In the aftermath of the accident, your friends had become your support system. They were there for you in the dark nights when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Phoenix had held your hair up when you were throwing up in the middle of the night. Jake had forced you to scarf down some food when all you wanted was to disappear. Bradley had practically shoved you into the shower after many days of you neglecting the idea of hygiene. While you appreciated all of their help, none of their actions made the ache in your chest disappear.

Because the thing was, Robert Floyd wasn’t just your backseater. He was so much more than that. You loved him more than anyone else in the world. However, you never got the chance to tell him exactly how much he meant to you. You were the reason that Bob had died. It was all your fault that the WSO had lost his life, scared and alone. For that, you would never forgive yourself.

No matter how much the rest of the Dagger Squad tried to convince you that it wasn’t your fault, you still couldn’t find any reason to believe him. You were his pilot. It was your responsibility to protect him and you had failed.

Just over three months ago, you and Bob had been sent on a mission alone. You were informed that the two of you would be more than enough to take care of the problem at hand. That, however, was not the case. Things had gone sideways mere moments into the mission. Before you knew it, your jet was struck with a surface-to-air missile. Pinned forward, Bob was unable to reach the ejection handle. You, however, were unaware of that.

Had it not been for the sheer panic that filled that moment, you would have been able to detect the fear in his voice. You would have noticed when he lied to you about being right behind you. He promised that he would follow only seconds behind you. You just had to eject. Against your better judgment, you had listened to him. You watched, horrified in mid-air as your jet crashed into the mountainside and erupted into flames. A second parachute never came from your jet. The thought had you feeling numb as you fell toward the ground. Now, here you were, crying into Jake’s arms after waking up from your third nightmare that night.

However, as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t quite block out the other reason you felt so terrible. Ever since the accident, members of the Dagger Squad had slowly begun to distance themselves from you. Bob’s death had taken a toll on everyone, and while you would argue that you were the most affected, not everyone seemed to agree with that.

The first one to step away was Fanboy. You simply chalked it up to him being upset over the loss of one of his best friends. That was until Coyote and Payback began coming up with excuses to hang out with anyone but you. Honestly, the thought hadn’t had too much of an impact on you until Phoenix began pulling away. She was your best friend. After losing Bob, you couldn’t stand the thought of losing her too. One by one, your friends began to disappear from your life.

You couldn’t really blame them. Not when you were responsible for taking the life of one of their best friends. Everything finally fell apart when you heard Rooster and Hangman talking. You had just come down the stairs, expecting to find the two passed out in various positions in your living room. Instead, you found them in your kitchen, Bradley sitting at the table with Jake leaning on your counter. His arms were crossed over his chest. Just as you were about to round the corner and make your presence known, Jake began speaking.

“At the end of the day, she’s the reason he’s dead, Bradshaw,” A hand slapped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries. You knew why this was coming up now. The therapist you had been seeing had finally cleared you to return to work. Jake only proved your theory when he spoke next. “How are we supposed to be up in the air with her now? How are we supposed to trust her?”

Bradley nodded from his seat at your table. “I know, man,” Your entire body was shaking. These were the people that you trusted your life with. It killed you inside knowing that they couldn’t do the same. However, you couldn’t really blame them. After all, you were the reason that the entire Dagger Squad had to attend Robert Floyd’s funeral. It was all your fault. “She can’t be trusted anymore. It’s as simple as that. Honestly, I’m not even sure why she was cleared to fly again.” With that, they shared a laugh. It was as if everything you were going through was comical to them.

Doing your best to wipe your tears away, a soft sniffle escaped you. They were your best friends. You had just lost the man you loved and now you were finding out that you couldn’t even rely on them to help you through this. Sure, in the beginning, everything had been better. You had your support system there for you whenever you needed them. Lately, your support system had been walking further and further away from you.

So, you sucked it up and walked around the corner. The shocked faces on both of their faces would have brought a small sense of joy to you had you not felt numb inside. “If you don’t want to be here, you can leave,” You started, pointing at the door with a shaky finger. “I know that I fucked up, but I certainly don’t need to hear it from you.” With that, you walked out of the room and back to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

You didn’t care whether or not they left. All you wanted to do was go back to how things were. With no one around to force you out of it, you fell back into the same state you were in after you lost Bob. Your friends had turned their backs on you, and yet you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore. The only person you wanted was Bob. Even though you knew you could never get him back, he was the one person on your mind as you drifted off. Tears stained your pillow as memories of the accident plagued your mind. This time, there was no one to wake you up when the horrors seemed too real to handle.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @xeve9809 @inkandarsenic @sunshine245 @malindacath

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callsign-joyride · 2 years ago

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Fluffy Fall Fantasy

Fall is right around the corner where I am and Summer of Smut went so well that I figured I'd do something for fall. So, from September 5 to November 23, you will be able to send in fluffy requests based on the list of characters and prompts below. (Really, you could send in requests starting today, but the first imagine won't go up until September 5th.)

Characters:

- Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

- Jake "Hangman" Seresin

- Javy "Coyote" Machado

- Robert "Bob" Floyd

- Rhett Abbott

- Javier Peña

- Warren Rojas

Prompts:

"Wait, don't go, please.."

"Is this okay?" "It's more than okay."

Already barely holding it together as they're getting their hand held but then they feel that reassuring squeeze and they just can't

Wearing the others' clothes so that it can at least feel like they're hugging them, even for just a moment

Feeling so lonely that they have to call their lover, just to get a sense and reminder that they're still there

^ Trying and failing to hold back their tears as they do so

When the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine

Breaking down mid-hug because they just needed this so much

One leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze

"I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken this..."

Sender nestles back against the receiver, pressing backwards so that they’re snug against one another.

Sender pulls the receiver firmly into them, until they’re pressed snugly into one another while spooning.

Sender wraps their arms more securely around the receiver while spooning, embracing them in the process.

Sender gently nuzzles their nose against the back of the receiver’s head/neck/back/shoulder while spooning.

Sender lies next to the receiver (who is recovering from injuries or illness) and spoons them while staying awake to make sure their health doesn’t deteriorate overnight.

Credit to @novelbear and @soulmemes for the prompts. Shoutout to @roosterforme for helping me come up with a title for the event.

You must be 18 years of age or older to participate.

@cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @mak-32 @bradshawseresinbabe @roosterforme @roosterbruiser

Event Masterlist

#top gun maverick #x reader #outer range #narcos #javier pena #warren rojas #daisy jones and the six #warren rojas x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #javy coyote machado #robert bob floyd #rhett abbott #callsign joyride's fluffy fall fantasy #fluff

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maryhadalotofshows · 2 years ago

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The Hunters: Top Gun

Complete story:

https://www.wattpad.com/1387360677-the-hunters-top-gun-chapter-one-the-texas-gambit

Characters:

The Winchester triplets—Dean, Alexandra, and Evan (Buck)—are no ordinary siblings. Bound by blood, forged in battle, and torn between two worlds, they lead lives as both supernatural hunters and elite U.S. Naval aviators. When their worlds collide, they are thrust into a whirlwind of danger, loyalty, and love that threatens to shatter everything they know.

Dean, the fearless leader with a haunted past, finds his faith tested as his bond with Castiel, a mysterious Navy SEAL, deepens in ways neither of them can deny. Alexandra, code-named "Chaos," is a fierce pilot with a sharp edge, but beneath her armor lies a heart struggling with her place in the team. She’s drawn to Jake "Hangman" Seresin, a cocky aviator whose charm might just be her undoing. Evan, known as "Reaper," walks the line between soldier and protector, his partnership with Eddie Diaz, an Army staff sergeant, pushing him to confront emotions he’s long kept buried.

As supernatural forces threaten the fabric of reality, the team faces impossible odds. Time travel, soulmates, ancient prophecies, and deadly enemies converge in a high-stakes fight to save the world. With the Top Gun pilots and their own unique skills, the triplets must bridge the gap between the military and the supernatural while unraveling secrets that tie their destinies together.

But every mission comes with a cost, and the question remains: how much are they willing to sacrifice to protect their family and those they love? Packed with action, romance, and the perfect mix of angst and hope, this story is a rollercoaster of emotions you won’t want to miss.

Characters:

Alexandra Winchester OC

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel "Novak"

Evan "Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Penny Benjamin

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Javy "Coyote" Machado

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Reuben "Payback" Fitch

#top gun fanfiction #9 1 1 #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #destiel #evan is not a buckly #supernatural #buddie #castiel #the hunters: top gun #the winchesters #tom iceman kazansky

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that-demigirl · 24 days ago

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OC Pride Challenge - Day 3 - Bi

Character: Maxwell “Kid” Mitchell

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

LI: Robert “Bob” Floyd

—

Taglist: (ask to be added) @ocappreciation @arrthurpendragon @eddysocs

#my oc #oc #ocappreciation #oc ask #opc2025 #oc aesthetic #oc: iris stevens #fd: top gun maverick #fd: top gun #li: robert bob floyd #li: natasha phoenix trace #top gun maverick oc #top gun oc

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wildbornsiren · 2 years ago

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Like Flying || Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Like Flying

Synopsis: Soulmates are connected by a red thread. Bob finds his when he least expects it.

Floydsin (1,596 words)

Warnings: None.

Notes: For the Top Gun Soulmate Month 2023 on AO3. Likes are welcomed, comments and shares are so loved. Thank you so very much for reading. I appreciate it so much, and it means the most.

**Tag list is gone, please follow @wbslibrary **

His momma said there were three irrefutable truths to existence. Number one, death comes for everyone. Two, lying will only get you into trouble, and three, there’s someone out there for everyone. Soulmates were a concept that permeated every part of society. Songs, movies, books, people yelling into the void of the internet about how they had found their one and everything finally made sense. Everyone’s someone was connected to them by a string. Tied to their ring finger, binding the two pieces together, by a link.

In the right light, Bob could see the thread that connected his parents. It shimmered in candlelight, and seemed to flare when they were reunited after his father went on business trips. He had noticed the pressure around his finger his sophomore year of high school. A connection—his someone. It wasn’t connected to anyone in his small town, but that wasn’t disappointing.

In fact, he had hoped it would turn out this way. He loved home, he did, but he longed for something more. He wanted to see what lay beyond the borders of his sleepy town. The urge to get up and leave settled under his skin, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch despite how he tried. Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d trace over the faint red mark, feeling the thread under his fingertips. And sometimes, it would dance and move as though someone were tugging on it, playing with it.

After high school, he enlisted. It was the next logical step—find a profession that allowed him to see the world, hopefully give him the chance to get out from small town life and find the excitement of something new.

Bob’s momma cried when he told her that he had enlisted. His father had clapped him on the back so hard his glasses flew off his face. His sisters worried, and his brothers puffed up with pride.

His momma cried when he shipped off to basic.

Again, when he came home.

A third time when he received his orders as to where he would be stationed.

Deployments were tough. He actually missed the quiet of middle of nowhere, more importantly, he missed Sunday dinners with his family. He had learned through calls and emails that his youngest sister had found her someone. The unasked question hovered behind the regular questions of ‘what are you up to?’, ‘are you getting enough to eat’, ‘make sure you get some sleep. You look pale.’

Bob saw the photo on Facebook, even before any of his family thought to message him. Ellie beaming happily, holding a sign that read ‘found him’ and a dopy grin on her face. Bob squinted at the photo—the guy looked nice enough, Ellie looked happy. That’s all that mattered.

He'd been in for nearly six years. Qualified and completed the elite training of Top Gun. He hadn’t gone home for Ellie’s wedding. Or Beth’s, Mark’s or Brian’s.

“Are you even looking Robbie?” Beth had asked him. They were sitting side by side on the porch steps. Mirror images of each other—Bob, the elder sibling only by fifteen minutes.

“I am.” It was then Bob realized he had broken one of his momma’s irrefutable truths. He lied. He wasn’t looking, he hadn’t been looking. Work, flying, the sky had taken all his attention. Being thousands of feet above the Earth, with its majesty spread out beneath him had replaced the swooping feeling in his gut whenever he looked at the red thread on his finger.

She looked at him, the way only a twin can and pursed her lips. “Don’t give up. Please. You deserve to be happy.” Beth patted his knee, and got up, disappearing into the house. Bob leaned back on the stairs looking up at the thousands of stars in the sky, his stomach soaring and dropping as it did when he was in the backseat of a jet.

“I am happy.”

Life went on, work went on. Occasionally he’d toy with the string, tug on it. Every now and again there would be tugs in return. Once, he sent a message in morse code. The response had made him laugh. And maybe in that clumsy patterned pulling there was a hint. Morse code, for the most part was obsolete. So whoever was on the other end of his thread had made the effort to learn it. Looks or gender never really mattered, Bob dated both. Loved both, had his heart broken by both. He just hoped that he could share in all the little pieces he’s stored away under his skin. The little parts that no one knew about, the parts of him that he kept secret.

Orders to return to Top Gun came through an official email. Bob packed up, shipped out and landed at North Island. It hadn’t changed much; military bases were all carbon copies of each other for the most part. He got his stuff settled in his quarters, reported in, and was given the day to reacquaint himself his surroundings.

There was a buzzing in his ears that he couldn’t quite shake. Bob didn’t want to bother with sick bay, he couldn’t risk being taken off the detail before he knew what it was. Unable to concentrate in the beige prison that was his dorm room he decided to go out. Bars weren’t really his scene, but it was a good chance to scope out the competition and focus on something other than the heartbeat in his ears, and the ache in his hand. The redness on his ring finger was deeper, he could almost feel the thread against his flesh.

Hope and curiosity unfurled in his chest, something anticipatory taking root.

He found a stool near the bar, requesting a water from the bartender, who flashed a dazzling smile at him, sliding him the plastic cup. Peanuts were a safer alternative to the popcorn in bowls—the nuts were at least in shell still.

Bob’s hand jerks when he’s bringing the cup to his lips to drink. Barely managing to not spill on himself, he glances around to see if someone had bumped him. He’s alone—as alone as he can be. There’s two men at the dartboard, talking in undertone, one of them crowing triumphantly when he hits a third bullseye. While his eyes were covered.

Bob blinks, feeling the press of skin against his own palm when the man high-fives his friend. He’s staring and can’t bring himself to care. The other man is bronze skin, and a perfect Hollywood smile. Blond hair, green eyes, built. He’s wearing the same khaki as Bob, and from here he can see the wings marking him as an aviator.

His left hand twitches, and he swallows hard, gripping the cup of peanuts tighter. He watches as the man walks past him, headed for a pool table. Bob’s words evaporate in his throat. The man’s voice washes over him, warm and rich a honeyed drawl, aiding the slide of pleasure down his back.

More patches show up, and Bob is pulled into the gathering group of pilots. His eyes keep returning to Hangman—Jake. Metaphorical dick measuring occurs, like every other time more than two military personnel gather in one place. Emboldened by the comradery already building, the good music, or the fact that his pilot is competent and sharp-witted, Bob studies his hand.

There’s a flash of red against his skin, and every single cell in his very being is calling out for the man across the room. He toys with the thread, and when his fingers catch it, his breath hitches. There’s a tone like a too-tight guitar string, a warmth spreading from the center of his chest to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes.

No one else seems to have heard it.

Almost no one. Bob lifts his gaze to see Jake’s brilliant green eyes focused on him. The other man tips his head toward the doors that lead out to the beach. Bob lets his gaze drop to his hand, and when he plucks the string again, Jake’s hand tightens on the pool cue. Bob gets off his stool suddenly, excusing himself when Phoenix looks up concerned.

It's cooler outside, a breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean. Bob finds it easier to breathe. That is, until Jake’s in his space. “You.”

“Me,” Bob says.

Jake’s hand is on his, thick fingers sliding between Bob’s, their palms pressing together. “Took you long enough.” Bob opens his mouth to apologize but stops. There’s a soft smile on Jake’s face, a flush dusting on high cheekbones. Instead, he squeezes Jake’s hand, glancing down to see the tangle of nearly invisible red thread smooth itself out. Normally his heart would be racing, nervous energy washing over him. But now? There’s nothing but calm. Calm, and warmth, especially when Jake’s thumb brushes over the back of Bob’s hand. “Maybe I was waiting for you to come find me.” “I’m stubborn.” Jake says. Bob’s not sure if he’s warning him away or stating the obvious. “I’m an introvert.” “Good,” Jake says and when that smile is flashed his way, Bob forgets how to breathe. “I like dad jokes.” His free hand reaches up, fingertips tracing along Bob’s neck, his jaw. Jake cups his cheek and urges him closer. Bob’s lips part when fingertips graze his lower lip. Jake exhales softly, “Oh.” Bob leans a little closer, the first brush of Jake’s mouth against his, felt like home. /End

#Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #floydsin #HangBob #shelly writes #Robert 'Bob' Floyd #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #soulmate AU #top gun maverick

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callsign-phoenix · 3 years ago

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I wrote this out of the blue, I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x wife!reader imagine.

Thank you so much to @hederasgarden for talking this through with me and beta-reading the fic.

Warnings: just pure fluff, this fic is racially and body type inclusive despite the moodboard suggesting otherwise

“Miss, can I ask you something?” one of your younger students asked you, her eyes wide as she looked at you and then at your husband who was sitting in the corner of the room, watching you carefully.

You had been married to Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd for a few years now and found the perfect job for you – a piano teacher for children at the base your husband was stationed at.

Your kids always loved Bob and stormy days were their favourite, because he always came to visit when he wasn’t allowed to fly.

They all looked up to him and adored him even more than you, which was why they were so curious about your love life.

“Do you and Mr. Bob have a baby?” your youngest student, Emma, asked with big eyes, fiddling with one of her braids.

You were caught off guard by the question, but you were used to it, your eyes flicking towards your husband before returning to your student.

“No, we don’t,” you told her calmly, smiling at her a little, which she didn’t reciprocate.

“When will you have a baby?” she continued to ask, making the heat in your cheeks rise slightly as you tried to sort through your brain and find the right answer for her question.

You and Bob hadn’t talked about having children yet so you didn’t know how to reply in his presence, but Bob saved the situation by stepping in.

“We don’t know yet, Emma, but we will.” he gave her a smile that made her face light up, capturing her entire attention as he moved towards where you were seated at the piano.

He set a hand on your back and glanced at you before looking back at the young girl, nodding towards the sheet music that was propped up on the stand.

“Do you want to play something for me?” he asked her, receiving an eager nod from her while letting his hand soothe over your back.

The rest of the day went by in various tempi, sometimes dragging on slowly and sometimes rushing quickly until it was time to go home.

The moment you said goodbye to your last student of the day and shut the door, you felt Bob hug you from behind, pulling you in as much as possible and lowering his head to your neck.

He liked hugging you like that, feeling your body pressed against his and his lips on the skin of your neck.

You were both silent for a while until Bob spoke up, carefully brushing his face against your neck and the side of your face as not to hurt you with his glasses.

“‘I’ve been thinking about what Emma said today. I think we should try for a baby sometime,” he suggested with such a gentle voice that you were happy he was holding you tightly, or your knees would have definitely given out.

You were breathless as you nodded, turning your head towards him to press a needy kiss to his lips.

It only took a few months until you could finally tell Bob the good news.

You were excited to do so, having had to wait long enough for it.

When Bob came home that evening you were waiting for him at the kitchen table.

You were fiddling with a small wrapped package in your hands.

He smiled at you the moment he saw you and moved to press a kiss to your temple, glancing at the gift in your hands.

“You know it’s not my birthday, don’t you, love?” he asked you gently, receiving a timid smile and nod from you.

“I think you should sit down before I give you this,” you suggested as you bit your lip in anticipation and tried to hide your smile, sliding the box over towards where Bob sat down just like you had asked.

His slender fingers made quick work of the bow and wrapping paper and he opened the box keeping eye contact with you, before glancing down to see what was inside.

His eyelashes fluttered for a second before the biggest smile you had ever seen crossed his face, the pure joy lighting his features up as his eyes began to fill with tears.

He was kneeling at your side in a second, looking up at you with such happiness that it brought tears to your own eyes as well.

“I can’t tell you how thankful I am for you. I love you so, so much,” he whispered as he cradled your face and pressed soft kisses against your lips, your tears mixing into the kiss, making for a bitter-sweet taste.

A few days later it was your usual evening to hang out with Bob’s fellow aviators.

You really liked them all and were close with Phoenix and Rooster, even though Hangman occupied a soft spot in your heart as well.

You were by the pool tables just chatting when Bob spoke up, standing straighter than usual as he carefully set a hand to the small of your back.

“We’d like to invite you all to a garden party we’ll be hosting next weekend,” he said proudly, already expecting the comment that slipped from Hangman’s mouth as if he were on autopilot.

You usually hosted a piano recital that ended in a garden party every other month for your students and their families, which meant it definitely wasn’t the bachelor’s scene Jake, Rooster or any of the other pilots normally enjoyed.

“Bob, are you trying to bore us to death?” Hangman asked as he stared at the two of you with raised eyebrows, half joking because everyone knew he’d come if asked.

He received a smile from Bob and you turned to look at your husband, hiding your happiness by burying your head in his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you.

You were nervous but incredibly excited when the day of the party came around.

Bob was around you all the time while also preparing everything for when your guests arrived, the smile you had first seen the day you had told him about the baby not leaving his lips for even a second.

You were happy you were expecting a child but Bob’s happiness made the experience so much better.

The welcoming of your guests went by as usual, except that Bob’s fellow aviators also made their appearance.

You were happy to see that each one had come and you smiled at the way they looked so out of place in your garden, surrounded by playing kids and the group of young families you had built a community with.

Everyone went quiet when Bob asked for their attention, his hands brushing against the fabric of your dress until they were safely resting on your hips.

You gave him a soft smile and nodded to encourage him to go on, which he did only after smiling back at you.

Everyone was amused by the sickly sweetness they were witnessing between the two of you, waiting for your husband to say what he had to say.

Even the kids were quiet because they loved and respected Bob.

“We have an announcement to make,” he said as he raised his voice but his eyes were trained on yours, smiling at you as if no one else existed.

“We’re expecting our first baby,” he continued as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss filled with pride to your temple.

“We’re expecting our first baby girl,” he added, hiding his broad smile of contentment by keeping his lips at your temple, his nose buried in your hair.

You were smiling as well as everyone began clapping, bringing tears to your eyes at how happy and at home you felt.

When you looked up at Bob you saw him glancing at Emma, and you immediately knew what he wanted your daughter’s middle name to be.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @kyramaximoff @peaches-1999 @iloveprettyboysblog @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @uwiuwi @ycarlii @princessofglitterland @teti-menchon0604

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#robert bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #top gun bob #bob top gun #bob top gun imagine

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make-me-imagine · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Santa: Bob's Ending

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11

'Secret Santa: Part One'

Plot: The day of the festival has arrived and you are filled with anxiety and hope as to who might be waiting for you.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Gn!Reader

Words: 1.5k

You woke up early the next morning, too nervous to sleep any longer. You had woken many times during the night, glancing a he clock, o see you had only slept for less than an hour a a time.

Glancing over at your window, you sighed. The sun had barely risen, and the festival wasn't for hours.

Deciding to go on a run, you jogged around the base for a couple hours. By the time you had finished, the others were just waking, sleep being wiped from their eyes as the came from the barracks to shower or find something to eat.

"You're up early." You heard a soft voice from behind you.

Turning, you saw Bob smiling softly at you as he fixed a button on his uniform. You smiled at him, feeling familiar butterflies rush through your stomach.

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep."

You saw a concerned frown cross his face "Anything wrong?"

Should you tell him? He was the one you wanted it to be all along, maybe if you told him now he'd give in, admit it. Or, it would be obvious it wasn't him and your heart would be hurt. Then you'd have to face whoever it was at the festival with that knowledge.

"Y/n?" He asked, as he took a step forward.

You realized you had gotten lost in your thoughts for too long. You smiled and shook your head.

"Sorry, just in a bit of a fog, I think I need a shower. I'm alright Bob. Good luck with your test flight."

He nodded his head and smiled as you turned to leave. But you saw the presence of worry still there. He always worried, for everyone. He was kind, and sweet, and you loved that about him. The more you thought about it, the more devastating you knew you'd be if he wasn't the one.

Bob watched as you made your way towards the locker room. Were you losing sleep because of what he had done with the presents? The confession?

He felt guilty at the thought, but hoped you would be alright with it in the end. Though his own fears of you being disappointed it was him, left him with his own anxious thoughts and restless nights.

Taking in a deep breath as the hot water rained over you, you tried to focus on your training for the day, you couldn't allow this to mess with your head, not now.

You had been able to focus on your training long enough to do well, but it was obvious you weren't completely focused. Maverick confronted you, but he could see the exhaustion in your eyes. You admitted you hadn't slept, and you knew he took pity on you. His words were stern, but not harsh.

After the training, you had a few hours until the festival. And though you weren't certain you'd be able too, you lied down to sleep. A short nap, anything that might steady you.

You were glad when you woke up two hours later, alarm blaring. Though the worry of who you might find waiting for you at the festival was heavy on your mind, you were too exhausted for it too keep you awake for long.

Rising from your bed, you looked over at the flowers on your table. Taking in a deep breath you rose to get ready. It was time.

The whole ride to the festival, your fingers were either wrapped tight around the steering wheel, or beating rhythmically in anxiety. As the lights and music of the festival came into view you felt as though you were forgetting to breath.

You had decided, that no matter who was waiting for you here, even if it wasn't Bob, you'd give them a chance. They deserved it, right?

Your body seemed to move without any regard to your nerves or thoughts. You made your way into the festival, into the crowds and you looked around. And for the first time you realized, you'd have to find them. There were hundreds of people here, where could they be? Were they even here yet?

Uncertain, you looked around, hoping they would be waiting for you at the entrance. But seeing no familiar face, you sighed.

Maybe they are waiting somewhere they would want to be?

You thought about Bob, and though you knew not to hope too much on it being him, you headed towards the ice skating rink.

You and Bob had once talked about how he would go ice skating with his cousins, and though he wasn't very good at it, he loved to watch the people skating. It was like dancing, but more elegant.

He had invited you to go with him once, but you never had the opportunity.

Approaching the ice rink, you leaned on the surrounding fencing. Your eyes scanned the crowds around you, and slowly your hope began to diminish. Until, your eyes landed on a familiar man across the rink.

Your breath caught in you throat as his eyes locked onto yours.

Bob straightend up, his eyes still on yours. He smiled softly and waved, you did the same.

Seeing him move to walk around the rink, you stepped back. Should you meet him half way?

What if he was just here for himself? What if he'd get to you and genuinely wonder why you were here. Fate isn't that cruel is it?

Your feet began moving without you really realizing. Your eyes kept catching on him through the crowds, his eyes seemed to stay on you as well.

Twenty feet apart.

Ten feet apart.

Five.

One

"Hey" he said in his familiar soft voice.

"Hi" You managed to squeak out.

"I hope it didn't take you long to find me." He said with a hint of nervouness in his tone.

You felt a wave of relief and genuine excitement wash over you. You let out a breath "So it really was you?"

He shrugged his head softly as he nodded "Yeah, I hope that's okay, and that you weren't expecting-'"

"I didn't know who to expect." You cut him off with a smile "But I was hoping it was you."

You saw surprise cross his eyes as he held back a smile "You were?"

You could hear the relief in his own voice, and it made you grin. You nodded.

"Yeah. I really was."

Smiling at each other with nervous tension between you, Bob finally cleared his throat as he looked around "Want to get a hot chocolate? I hear they're the best around."

You smiled and nodded with excitement. You had told him about the hot chocolate when you boasted to the squad about the festival.

As you walked, your shoulders brushed lightly together.

"Thank you for the flowers Bob, I love them."

Bob smiled, obvious bashfulness in his face "You're welcome. They weren't too bold were they? I couldn't find something that really expressed how I felt-"

As he started to ramble, you grinned at him, nodding "I loved them. They were perfect. And I appreciate that you looked into the symbolism."

"Well honestly, the idea of it interested me when you first told me about the fact that each flower has it's own meaning. I thought....well, I thought it might be a good idea, a good way to tell you how I felt. But...then the mission ended, and we didn't see each other for a while."

You stopped, and he stopped as well "You've...felt like this since the first mission?"

He nodded and adjusted his glasses "Yeah. And when we saw each other a couple months ago, but we both got moved on so fast, I didn't get a chance to, well, tell you."

"To tell me..." You pushed lightly, you wanted to hear it, from his own mouth.

You saw a nervous wave wash over him as he adjusted his stance "Well, to tell you that, ever since we first met, I have not been able to keep you of my mind. You are exciting, and wonderful, brave, beautiful inside and out. And I know, that if we were...together, we would be perfect."

You felt heat rise up your neck as he spoke. Perfect words you had wanted to hear for what felt like forever.

You smiled, and you saw some relief pass over his face.

"I think we would be perfect too." You said softly.

His smile tuned into a grin "So, can we be? Together, I mean."

You smiled as you looped you arm through his suddenly "We are together Bob."

Bob's smile faltered for a second with surprise before it came back wider than before.

"Good, great." He stumbled out as he looked down at your looped arms. "Let's get that hot chocolate then."

"Let's." You smiled as you began walking towards the stalls together.

"Oh, um, I took the initiative and booked us for the ice skating rink in about an hour. Since we didn't get to go last year."

You grinned up at him, excitement filling you, and you saw a smile of relief pass over his face. You gently tightened your arms around his as you continued to walk. An unfamiliar giddiness washed over you as you realized just how perfect it all worked out.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389,

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mrssabinecallas · 3 years ago

Text

I Got You

No callsign this time! Reader is a civilian character.

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd / Fem!Reader

In which a shy navy pilot is finally pushed by his friends to speak to the new barista at their favorite bar.

Warnings!! Fluff, mentions of a panic attack and anxiety, a really shitty ending cause im super tired but anyways

Yeah i lied about the three fic rotation, im not super into Hangman so its hard to get inspired to write for him.Rooster is def my favorite, but im really coming around to bob :))

Bob thought he was pretty tough. He may not look like it, but he could withstand a heavy force of gravity and many twists and turns at a high altitude.Yet, he lost all confidence and mental strength he had when he took one look at the new barista in the Hard Deck.

It wasn’t just an,”Oh damn, she’s kinda cute,” look either. It felt like he got hit by a truck. And it didn’t go unnoticed by his friends. Phoenix followed his line of sight to see you serving drinks behind the bar like you were born for it. In her point of view, Bob looked absolutely dumbstruck, like a lost puppy. Everyone else seemed to take notice, too. How could they not? You were a hot new take and god knows they needed one.

“Damn, she’s fine,” Hangman commented, and Bob shot him a look. “Woah, Baby on Board, you’re like, head over heels.” Hangman smirked.

“I... No I’m not. It’s just like you said, she’s cute,” He said, stuttering over his words. It didn’t convince anyone.

“Whatever you say, Bob. But if you don’t make a move, I’m gonna,” Rooster claims, and Bob went red. He just shrugged silently and diverted his eyes to his shoes. His anxiety was too high to deal with their nonsense right now.

Rooster got up and strutted over to the bar to get your attention.

“What can I get for ya, sir?” You turned to him while making someone else’s drink.

“Hey, could I get a beer, and let you know that my friend over there thinks your pretty cute,” He gestured over to the pool table with his head. “The one with the glasses, in the chair.”

“Well tell your friend to come over here and say hi,” you handed him his drink and replied with a welcoming smile, before turning to the next guest to serve.

When Bob heard about Rooster’s little escapade, he was embarrassed. Little did he know, you had been peeking at him from our spot at the bar. He was cute, you’d give it to him, in an adorable nerd way. His colleagues were hot, but you still found yourself looking at him as the bar died down. When he caught your stares, he turned bright red. You offered a warm smile and a little wave, and he decided he might as well say hi.

He stood, drawing unwanted attention to himself, and walked towards you. His fellow pilots cheered him on and whistled his way, and he turned impossibly more red.

“Hi, what can I do for-” you stopped yourself mid sentence as you looked up to find Bob.

“H-Hi. Um, I just wanted to say hi and-” He fiddled with his fingers and pulled at the collar of his khaki uniform. “Is it hot in here? Just me?” His breathing became erratic, and he was shaking.

“Hey, c’mon, lets go get some air, it’s stuffy in here,” You grabbed him by the arm and led him out to the deck. “Hey, hey, you’re all good.”

“S-sorry, my, uh, my anxiety is messing up, um..” he still wasn’t breathing correctly.

“Don’t apologize, my anxiety spikes when i talk to cute guys, too. I’d be lying if i said i wasn’t anxious,” you tried to calm his nerves, but as soon as you realized what you said you were done for.

“I- uh, didn’t mean to say that outloud, um.. But don’t be stressed. I got you.”

Eventually, his anxiety evened out, and you continued a more normal conversation.

“Um, sorry to bring it back up, but did you mean what you said earlier.. about, um, thinking I’m cute?” He refused to look at you while saying it, but you grabbed his chin and gently guided him to look at you.

“Yes, I did Bob.”

Needless to say, his anxiety shot right back up, but he wasn’t complaining. He felt as if he was on cloud nine, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d said. Even after you closed and he had gone home, and taken a shower and laid in bed. It rang through his head like it was all he could think about.

“I got you.”

#robert floyd #bob top gun #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #missbayside

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delopsia · 2 years ago

Note

Void seriously may be the best fic I’ve read in idk how long and I just wanted to give it some love since I saw you were bummed about it’s performance. I’ve re read it more than I like to admit tbh I love the concept so much!

This actually made me tear up a little bit, lmao. I'm so happy that you've enjoyed it 🥺💐I had a lot of fun sitting down and detailing their backstories and setting up where it could all go. There are so many pages of notes and details on how Rhett and Bob met, how they found the Reader and a whole action sequence that took place directly after Void ended, but I don't have the heart to write it. I'll give you the summary of it all💕

The events of the AU were kicked off in 2016, seven years before Void. A hole had appeared above the ocean, and the Navy was investigating what happened when someone was sent through it because cameras failed the moment they got close to it. Phoenix and Bob were the names pulled to fly the mission and were only told they would be flying through a black hole that was created by highly specialized projectors.

Instead of coming out the other side, the two were swallowed up by the hole, and for four years, nobody knew what happened to them. The Navy crafted a vague story about them going missing, gave them a funeral, and eventually, they were legally dead. Bob and Phoenix only felt like they were in the hole for a few minutes, but during that time, chunks of the "ore" that powers the hole flew by and struck them, Bob in the head and Phoenix in the chest. And though Phoenix was able to fly directly after emerging from the hole, the ore clogged an artery in her heart, and she suffered a heart attack after they landed.

They never told her family about how she turned up four years later; she was buried in an unmarked grave, and any witnesses were legally silenced. But Bob was still alive; the ore was trapped and manifesting in his head, tormenting him with violent visions, but he was as alive as ever.

What do you do when the media finds out a pilot appears from nowhere four years after going missing? You accuse him of deserting the Navy and fabricate elaborate evidence to sentence him to five years in prison for it. Because prosecuting an innocent man is easier than admitting you lied.

The thing about Bob is that he's crafty. He knew he was fucked, so he vanished from his apartment shortly before the trial, headed in the direction of his family, and then veered north, up into Montana and Wyoming. Places disconnected from technology, small towns without internet and cell reception. He found himself a small job as a ranch hand, and for a while, he was fine.

Until the visions started leading him places to an old mine, where a chunk of gold had been hidden by a miner who had long passed. They told him of the investigation that was catching his scent, helped him to know when to skip town, and what clues were setting him off.

And then it took him to the hole. Bobby didn't know it when he stepped in, but the hole took him to the exact universe that the Reader existed in. Nobody knew him here. There was nobody to hunt him because Robert Floyd quite literally did not exist. The laws were so loose here that faking an identity was easy, he sold the gold, got an apartment with the money, and took up shop working in the tech industry. Not his ideal job, but it worked.

At the same time, Rhett and Perry got into a fight in the pit bar parking lot after Rhett had suggested moving on from Rebecca. They thought Perry had killed him. And Royal, fearing the loss of both sons, took Rhett's body out to the hole in the west pasture. Rhett woke at some point in time, begging, pleading for his father to quit dragging him to the hole, but it was of no use. Because if he got away, there was no chance in hell he would ever trust Royal again, and he would surely tell the police of what Perry did.

So Royal pushed him in.

The hole spits him out on an unfamiliar sidewalk, and in his bedroom, Bob is struck with a violent vision that leads him right to that old cowboy, and he takes him in. Rhett's beat to hell, his fists are bloody, and when he recalls what happened, his hands turn pitch black.

Royal is the son of Chronus, born with the ability to create and manipulate the ore used for time travel, and Rhett inherited that ability. It simply didn't activate until he entered the hole.

Just weeks later, the Reader goes on a cabin trip with some old friends they haven't spoken to in years. They were meant to rent a different cabin, but between work and the stresses of life, the Reader forgot and unknowingly pissed off several members of the group. Those friends thought it would be funny to get back at the Reader by locking them out in the blizzard, but it was miscommunicated about who let them in, and by the time they realized the Reader was still outside, they were gone.

One friend called the police, but by morning, nobody would say who had gone missing. If they pretended not to know the person who had vanished, then maybe they could escape the legal repercussions of their actions. And those small-town police truly weren't cut out for such an investigation. They got away with it.

The Reader had wandered off into the cold, searching for help, and during their frostbitten haze, they didn't notice the hole until they fell in.

Just like with Rhett, Bobby had a vision that led them right to where the Reader had been left, on the concrete. They only meant to warm the Reader up and take them to the police, but their story was similar to Rhett's; they didn't want to recount the story anymore than they had to.

But the thing about trauma is that it bonds people. These three didn't drift apart; they stuck to one another like glue. With discovering Rhett's new powers and gradually opening up to one another, it shouldn't have been a surprise that things got warmer in that one-bedroom apartment. Shy cuddles became hesitant kisses, and kisses morphed into whispered I-love-you's.

Until the Reader was recognized in public by one of the people who locked them out, and suddenly, they were being accused of intentionally going missing and wasting police efforts.

What do you do when the law is after you? You run.

They went to Rhett's timeline, hid in small towns, stole from other timelines, and sold those things until they could afford a house in the mountains in an unnamed country. Far away from society, where nobody could find them. The house lit up with security systems, cameras, and motion detectors, fearing the day someone caught their scent once more.

But that wasn't enough. Because the Reader was angry with the people who couldn't seem to get enough of tormenting them, Rhett couldn't get over how his family protected Perry, and Bob had finally learned that Phoenix never even received a proper burial.

They crafted together evidence and anonymously sent it to Sherrif Joy's front door, damning Perry as Rhett's killer. He got sentenced. Rhett made a joke of showing up in his cell to frighten him. Forever angry about the life he lost.

They time-traveled to copy the security footage of the Reader being locked out, and they went to find and copy the documents that detailed what had been done to Bob and Phoenix.

This is where Void took place. Bob had intentionally timed their appearance to coincide with the time his old Navy friends were in the building. His every intent had been to get them on his side. But Maverick was on the side that viewed Bob as guilty, and there was no getting through.

Royal appeared because he had finally figured out that Rhett inherited his ability. He searched every timeline for him, and had every intention of hauling him back home to free Perry from his prison.

The ore in Bob's head acts like a sort of trip wire. It reacts when there is a change or a threat. So when Royal stepped into the timeline, a vision triggered. But Royal could have never expected that Rhett's ability was stronger, wilder. It manifests around his body and allows him to turn into the ore; he can move as an intelligent mist and reform at will. Where Royal can only access the hole from certain points, Rhett can open it as he pleases.

They escaped, but it left Royal in contact with Maverick and Bob's old friends. They had something in common, and an alliance of sorts was formed. Seeking justice, as they called it.

Bob, Rhett, and Reader gathered in a city and watched as a video was placed on every screen. Full of detailed documents and truths that they hoped would set the story straight. They weren't criminals. They were people who had been hurt time and time again. They were only villains because others had forced them into that corner.

It could have been perfect.

Even though it would have painted them as monsters to the people hunting them, it could have given them a chance at a normal life together of settling down and growing old. They had never done anything wrong.

But it didn't.

Those painful truths were bared to the world, and in return, they were painted to be villains who were trying to start an uprising based on falsities. They had some support, sure, but they were labeled as the enemy. Marked as wanted, dead or alive, like this was the Wild West, and they were the bank robbers.

So they ran.

They move from place to place, timelines and worlds, but Royal continues to find them. They change identities and appearances, but they never split up. Are chased through cities, Rhett opens portals as quickly as he can, carries them through hell and back. He draws more ore from Bob's head to stop the visions and fights to keep the Reader from fading back into their timeline.

It's hell, but they're together, and that's all that matters.

The ending of Void was meant to split into two. One hurts more than the other, but they're both happyish endings. Both started when Rhett found the ability to travel into his past self. The person Reading got to choose which they experienced, depending on how they wanted the story to go.

The "good" ending involved Rhett going against Bob's wishes to step into the past. He told the Reader and Bobby of what happened to them. Their persecution, what chasing vengeance and exposing the truth will do to them. In this ending, the evidence is never mailed to Sherrif Joy; Perry gets away with attempted murder, and none of them will ever see a sense of justice.

They will live their lives happily ever after, but they will never be able to forgive the people who hurt them and have to live with that knowledge forever. Sometimes people can hurt you so bad that it ruins your life, and you won't be able to do a damn thing about it. They'll never see their families again.

They make the decision to move far into the future if only to be sure that nobody will ever find them. Where their families have long since passed, and they bring flowers from the garden to their graves. It's not perfect; they hurt every day, but they have each other, and that makes them happy.

The story ends with them much older. Bobby has begun to lose a little bit of his memory, and Rhett's a misty presence more often than not, but they're together. Settled on a bench, gazing off into the sunset. There is a void left in their hearts, but at least it did not overcome them.

TW for multiple major character deaths and gun violence:

The "bitter-sweet" ending involved Rhett choosing not to travel into his past self because Bob feared what kind of time conundrum that would cause. They were fine. Until Bob's eyes turned black in the middle of the kitchen, struck with a vision. But before it could take hold, a gunshot had rung out. And he just

dropped.

Royal had shot him. Point blank in the head. And he had every intent to kill again if that meant hauling Rhett back to face the law. He didn't get one word out before Rhett just...lost it.

Rage does something to people that turns them into monsters. And for that moment, Rhett was the monster. He lost control over the ability inside of him, and though Royal kept firing that gun, he didn't feel it. Rhett didn't just rip Royal apart. He ripped a hole in every timeline. Until the anger subsided, he realized Bobby's body was lost to the hole, and not only was the Reader fading out of existence, but he was bleeding out.

The Reader slipped out of existence before he took his last breath. They slowly emerged to the timeline they belonged to, and though their body is taken to court and tried for whatever charges the court could boil up, their soul isn't quite...there. They wander the Earth detached from their own being, grieving in a ghostly sort of manner, and at some point, they come to rest at Phoenix's grave.

They've only seen her in pictures, but they know it's her ghost who appears and holds out a hand. They take it, and the world fades to white.

It's in the afterlife that they hear the sound of their name being called. They don't get the slow turn, the chance to recognize the two faces looking back at them; they're already being swept off of their feet. In a big hug with their two boyfriends. Soulmates, the two lovingly refer to themselves as. Together at last; dead and alive all at the same time.

This story ends with them smiling; forever young, looking down into a courtroom from the clouds. Though they never lived to see justice served, Rhett's rage had merged the three timelines into one, and through the chaos of it all, the secrets of the Abbotts, the hole, and the Navy were revealed.

Perry escaped prison, sure, but he lived a life in social exile, for everyone knew what he had done. Royal found himself in federal prison. Nat, Reader, and Bob's families finally got to know what happened to their babies. The people who locked the Reader in the cold were prosecuted. The Navy was forced to answer for what they had done.

Finally, the record had been set straight.

They cry. They laugh. They fall into each other in a big hug. And it leaves off with the three chasing each other, racing to be the first to get one of Nat's freshly baked cookies. The void consumed them, sure, it took everything from them, but in the end, it made them whole again. They'll spend the rest of forever together.

I truly don't know how the story got so fleshed out, lmao. One moment I'm trying to weave three tragedies together, and the next, I've got the most elaborate, beautifully painful story I've ever written. Void didn't get to become the series I hoped it would be, but hey, at least I get to share what it could have been lmao.

...that last part wasn't meant to be a joke, but now that I'm re-reading it, it is too perfect to delete 💃

#delgato's asks #rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #void au #tw gun #tw major character death

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