#...there is love there. different kinds of love. but love that still drives them to do some stuff and die. ykyk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daycourtofficial · 3 days

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Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 12

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | Masterlist |Warnings: none

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author's note: we are SO BACK BABY.

Immediately after agreeing to go on this date, Mor whisked you into your room, sitting you down on your bed as she went through your closet. She muttered to herself about your wardrobe not being organized and the two of you argue through her muttering about how you organize your closets differently.

“Aren’t you supposed to be having sex with Cassian right now?”

She scoffs, moving your hangers about, searching with intent. “No, I want to help you look hot for your date, babe.”

It was your turn to scoff at her as you flopped on your bed, pulling out your phone.

“You’ve never cared before.” You unlock your phone, a bit surprised at her sudden interest in your date. You open your text messages, the last one from Azriel was a few hours ago when he accused you of snoring.

“He’s really cute.” She moved through a few of your dresses, pursing her lips in concentration.

You roll your eyes and your phone starts buzzing in your hands. You decline the call once you see the name ‘dad’ light up your screen.

“Maybe he’ll be so cute that I won’t hear anything he says and we’ll live happily ever after because I can just gaze into his eyes forever.”

Mor chuckles, pulling out a black dress and bringing it to you. “You never know.” You laugh at her antics as she helps you with your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp.

Mor offers to drive you to the restaurant, stating she wanted to be nice. You’re well aware she’s doing it so she can ensure you actually go on the date. The two of you gossip in the car, talking about how Feyre keeps asking you about Rhysand constantly.

“We’re here!”

You look outside of the car, not having paid much attention to your surroundings, to find yourself in front of a mini golf place. You look around, thinking the restaurant must be somewhere nearby, but the only other stores nearby are a discount tire store and a barbershop.

“Uh, Mor… I’m not exactly dressed for mini golf.” To further your point, you sweep your hand up and down at your heels and the blue mini dress you were wearing. She undoes her seatbelt, pushing herself across the seat to open your door. She undoes your buckle and starts pushing you out of the car.

“Go, go, go. Be free. Have fun.”

She winks overdramatically at you. “But Mor, I don’t - this wasn’t the plan. Who am I looking for?”

“You’ll know him when you see him - he’s wearing a blue shirt.”

You start to yell her name, but she pulls back on the door and blows you a kiss before driving off, her red car disappearing down the street as you watched, still confused as to how you ended up here.

You turned around, the bright lights of the arcade shining through the windows.

You sighed, ready to get this night over with. She told you she was setting you up with one of Cassian’s friends, but Cassian was friends with everybody. You could be meeting anyone - someone Cassian works with or the guy at the deli that makes Cassian’s turkey sub just right. Then again, the last time Cassian got a sub from there he went on and on about that guy’s arms, so at least he’d be nice to look at.

You quickly straighten your dress before walking inside. You don’t expect the date to go anywhere, but you still want to look good. Moving through the arcade games, you try to keep your face pleasant, despite the annoyance you feel at Mor. You see a few guys with blue shirts on, and you feel a tad bit ridiculous in your strappy dress and heels, the clicking drowned out by the high pitched whirring and buzzing of the games around you.

None of the guys wearing blue shirts seem to be waiting for anyone, all their focus is on their friends or the games in front of them. Eyes scanning the arcade, a non stop barrage of overstimulation.

Your eyes meet hazel ones as you smile, a look of slight confusion on your face as you look over to find Azriel playing skee ball, the ball slipping from his fingers as he sees you. You point to him, and he just points back, not paying attention to the tickets spouting from the machine.

You smile walking over to him, and he stands up straighter as you come over to him. Your heels don’t do much to help the height difference between the two of you. You’re peering up at him, not sure what to say.

You weren’t expecting this.

“Are you my date for tonight?” You tilt your head, and take a second to drink in what he’s wearing. He’s dressed in a midnight blue dress shirt, the buttons undone just enough to get a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest. The shadowy wisps of ink call to you, begging you to undo more of the buttons, begging to be seen. His dress pants hug his thighs deliciously, his belt highlighting his trim waist. You were not being subtle, but neither was Azriel as you finally looked back up and found his eyes roaming your body.

You blush under his scrutiny, and his eyes snap back to yours.

Caught, they scream.

His ears pink slightly, a smile stretching across his face, “well, maybe Mor can get her matchmaking right at least once.”

You laugh, and he smiles at the sound. “If she’s ever right, she’ll be insufferable.”

He hums in agreement, “but if she’s right about us, she’ll be insufferable with setting other people up, not us.”

“I think she’ll bring it up any chance she gets, thinking she set us up.”

The two of you stroll to the counter. Azriel pays the teenager behind the counter, who turns and grabs putters and balls for the both of you before sliding the blue and red clubs across the counter. He nods at you both before turning away. You grab little scorecards before heading outside, and you write your names on the small line, trying to balance the paper while walking.

“So it wasn’t Mor that set us up?”

Azriel’s voice shakes you from your concentration, causing the ‘L’ at the end of his name to grow long on the scorecard. You look at him, his arm brushing against your own. You shake your head, “no.”

He smiles, eyebrows lifting, “so our nosy friend didn’t set us up?”

You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your putter. You step up to the first hole, a fairly straight forward, easy shot. You drop the ball on the putting green watching it bounce to avoid looking at him. “Well, I mean she did, but we were- you know…”

“I actually don’t know, enlighten me.” Your shocked face and stammering make his grin widen.

“I mean we were-“ you clear your throat, using the putter to move your ball a bit, “definitely becoming something.”

A moment of silence passes between you two, making you grow more nervous at his scrutiny. “Right?” You add. You lined up your putter, hitting the ball just enough to overshoot the hole, the ball bouncing off the back wall and coming back only a few feet in front of you. Azriel’s laugh is loud at your poor putt and hopefully only about your poor putt.

He gives you that smile that makes you weak in your knees as he grabs your elbow, pulling you from the putting green, his gaze heavy on you as he says, “yeah, we’re definitely becoming something.”

The night moved more smoothly after that, a tension you didn’t know lifting. You still weren’t sure what it was between you two, but at least he didn’t know either. By the fourth hole, conversation was flowing easily between the two of you, your cheeks already hurting from smiling so much.

He spent a significant portion of the evening teasing your poor putting game, around the seventh hole he stopped you after your ninth attempt to get the ball in the hole.

“You are truly pitiful at this game.”

“Stooooop,” you drag out the word, a faux shocked expression on your face as you look at him.

“Here, let me show you.” You roll your eyes, looking up at the obvious pass he’s about to make on you. You expect him to come from behind you, wrapping his arms around you to show you how to putt.

You’re surprised when he grabs your hands instead, pulling you behind him as he wraps your arms around his waist, pulling you close to his back. You laugh into his back, the warmth radiating from him making you want to melt into him.

“I’ve never seen them do this in the movies.”

You feel his hum vibrate through his chest into your cheek.

“And how well did that work out for those people in the movies?”

You laugh, and you put your hands over his, rubbing the scarred skin with your thumb. “Now, just feel how I putt.” You follow his movements as he pulls the putter back, knocking the ball along the artificial mounds until it softly fell into the hole.

“If only I could use you to putt for every hole.”

You eventually untangle yourself from him and he stops to pick up his golf ball as you two walk to the next hole. The people in front of you aren’t finished, so you two stand off to the side, leaning against some rocks as they play.

“I’m a bit surprised you didn’t take a shot before coming here. Don’t you usually have a drink for first dates?”

You hum, “see I drink a bit on the dates that Mor sets me up on, otherwise I won’t make it through the evening. I didn’t know we’d be here without alcohol until we showed up.”

He laughs, putting his hand on one of the rocks. You quirk your mouth, debating what to do, when your hand moves on its own, resting on top of his. He’s quick to rotate his hand, so your palms are together and he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Those guys were only semi-interesting if I was two or three drinks in.”

He smiles down at your hands, his scarred one much larger than yours. It surprises him a bit how easily he forgot about the scars, his thoughts consumed with just wanting your touch, not dwelling on how you’d react to the texture.

“And where am I on the drink-to-interesting scale?”

“Hmmm,” you lean back, tapping your finger to your chin, pretending to think. “Welll, if I had known it was going to be you, I would be at least five drinks in before getting here.”

He fake gasps, placing a hand over his heart, “you wound me.”

The family in front of you finish putting, moving onto the next hole. You throw your ball down on the green, looking with annoyance at the tiny windmill on the green that is sure to thwart your game.

You giggle, “I- um, I do like being around you. Sober, that is. If I knew it was you I wouldn’t pregame this date. Just so you know.”

You hit the ball, watching it bounce off the windmill blade right back to you. You groan, but Azriel’s voice cuts through. “I gotta say, Mor might not be great at setting you up, but she’s only set me up once and she did a fantastic job.”

Your cheeks heat, smile too big for your face as you putt again, the ball going underneath the windmill and into the hole successfully. You quickly turn, sticking your tongue out at Azriel.

“See, I just had to get warmed up.”

You pick up your scorecard, excited to write something lower than a 5 for the first time, peering at Azriel over it. You find him looking at you the same way, moving your eyes back down to read the score.

“Stop looking at me, I’m trying to calculate who’s winning,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out trying to do mental math.

You barely hear him whisper out, “math or no, I think it’s me that’s winning.”

Your eyes meet his over the scorecard and you’re frozen by just how soft he looked in this moment - the ridiculous colors reflecting on his tan skin,

He looked so kind and full of love.

You quickly look back down at the scorecard, trying to keep the heat from spreading across your cheeks.

He was winning by a ridiculous amount. You could get a hole in one on every shot and still lose.

Several holes later, you watch as Azriel lines up to putt. His gaze is focused on the ball, and yours is focused on how nice those pants make his ass look.

“I really thought this was going to be disastrous for a first date. At least at dinner I can get food,” you mused, watching him hit the ball. “I don’t understand why people usually go to dinner for first dates. No one looks hot while eating. All of those first dates and they all looked so ugly while eating.”

“You’ve never seen Cassian eat chicken wings then. He could make an honest man out of me.”

You shoved him, laughing at the image. Cassian was a notoriously messy eater - a fact you learned very quickly after making spaghetti for the two of you one night. You move to the next hole, having to carefully plan out your steps in your heels.

“Did you know it would be me?”

He turns and smiles shyly at you, “no, I had no idea. Mor told me if I went on this date, she’d never force you to go on another first date.”

You smile back at him as you reach the last hole, making a godsawful putt. “That’s mighty kind of you to do that for me, seeing as I told you before all about Mor’s terrible matchmaking skills.”

He shrugs, his smile growing sheepish. “I figured I’d tell whoever it was that Mor set me up with that I’m a convicted felon.”

“They might be into that.” You move over to where you ball landed, trying to figure out the best angle to hit it. You’ve tried most everything by this point, so you opt for just hitting the thing as hard as possible until it goes in.

“I’d end the date by providing them the address for the penitentiary and tell them they can write to me anytime, but that the guards read it so they should be careful when sending dirty letters.”

Your new plan is disastrous, the ball leaving the green entirely and rolling away. You curse as Azriel runs after it and drops it in the hole for you, watching it disappear.

“I can’t believe you’d receive dirty letters.”

“Why not? I’d use them as currency in prison.”

“So if I wrote you dirty letters in prison you’d trade them away?” You waggle your eyebrows at him as he moves to putt.

“Absolutely not. I’d keep them hidden away, for my eyes only.”

He takes the last putt, sinking his ball into the last hole, where it disappears to be collected by some employee. You move to mark down his fourth hole in one, grumbling about how this game was rigged as you return your putters.

“Can I see the scorecard?”

“Ha ha, yes my score was terrible, do you want to laugh at it some more?” Your voice comes out deadpan.

“Mmmm, something like that.”

You hand it to him, and he quickly tucks it away into his pocket.

Your gaze is scorching as the two of you walk to the doors, and you forget to ask him about the card when you remember that Mor brought you here, and Azriel rides a motorcycle.

And you’re wearing a dress.

You’re about to ask him about what to do when a dark red truck beeps twice.

“I borrowed Cassian’s truck for the night.”

You raise your eyebrows, but Azriel cuts off your thinking. “Mor told me to.”

“Does Cassian know it’s for a date?”

Azriel laughs as he opens your door before quickly moving to his side and getting in. “No, if I did he would have sent me out with about a thousand condoms.”

You snort, but his face drains of color as he starts stammering, “I didn’t- I mean I don’t… expect that.. Cassian.. I just-”

His voice trails off, and he stares straight ahead as he turns on the truck. Your knee slides across the seat, bumping into his. He pulls out of the parking lot, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

“I’m not a first date kinda girl, even if the walk back to my apartment would be incredibly short.”

His grip on the wheel loosens slightly, and the red light changes to green.

“Third date, though…”

His cheeks heat at your cheekiness, and you watch the cars go by on the road. You turn on the radio, Cassian’s favorite country station blaring through the speakers. You roll your eyes as you turn down the volume, searching through the stations. You stop when you find something soft and slow that sounds vaguely familiar, and you sit back in your seat.

The ride is mostly quiet, save for the radio. You two eventually make it back to your apartment building, Cassian’s small truck idling before Azriel cuts it off. The nerves are back, eating through your stomach as you look at him. The streetlights made his hazel eyes look golden as he watched you.

The silence stretches as you two watch each other, an endless pool of fondness swimming in your shared gaze. His hands move, turning off the engine.

“So.”

He turns towards you, his arm slowly going behind your headrest, giving you every time opportunity to stop him. Your eyes just follow the movement before leaning back onto his arm.

“I had fun tonight.”

His voice is soft, his gaze unwavering.

“Me too.”

You watch his eyes flick down to your lips briefly before coming back up. “We could do it again, if you’d like.”

Your words fail you as you nod, and his smile widens. He fidgets with his fingers, biting his lip lightly.

A second date - his step forward. Now it was your turn to push.

“Can I kiss you?”

His heart is thrumming in his chest, his turn to nod without speaking. You shift in your seat, moving closer to his face. His hands tremble slightly as he places them on your neck.

“Gods, yes.” He whispers his words into your mouth, his touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

Your noses bump into each other. Your lips meet his and his touch is all consuming. It’s soft, slow, full of trepidation.

It’s clumsy at first, both of you so unsure and full of nerves. After a moment you get your bearings, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as the two of you keep kissing, unwilling to stop for air.

His lips are soft against your own, his fingers warm on your neck. The two of you eventually pull apart, panting, Cassian’s windows covered in a thick fog. You giggle as you draw a tiny heart in the condensation.

“Do you um wanna come upstairs? My roommate’s gone for the night.”

All thoughts leave his head, but before he can spiral, your voice stops him.

“I don’t want to, ya know. I mean I do- just not yet. Like I said I’m not really a first date kind of girl for that. It’s just not me, but um ya know I figured we could watch a movie or eat like actual dinner…”

He nods a bit too enthusiastically. “I could order us a pizza? I could stop by my apartment, change into some sweats?”

“I could put on some pajamas?”

You two just nod softly at each other. A moment passes before you realize you actually have to get out of the car to keep the date going. You laugh, a sound that makes Azriel’s heart swell. You get out of the truck, your body close to Azriel’s as you two walk into your building. The lights of the lobby are bright compared to the night sky outside.

The elevator hums softly as it takes the two of you up to your floor.

“Just give me like ten minutes before coming over? I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

You take a deep breath as you unlock your door, watching him go into his own apartment. You quickly shuffle inside, turn your phone off of do not disturb, and immediately Facetime Mor.

Your face is bright red on your screen as you move through your apartment, discarding your shoes and dress, pulling on sweats. Mor declines your call, and you opt to leave her a voicemail.

“Mor, why didn’t you tellmeIwasgoingonadatewithAzrielyouabsolutebuffoon.”

Your words come out hurried and hushed, checking he hasn’t come in yet. You put on a comfy shirt before saying, “but… Thank you. You’re a lovely buffoon, he’s coming over to watch a movie so keep Cassian away for as long as possible. Preferably three weeks. Love you, bye!”

You hang up, deciding to text her too.

I both love and hate you, I hope you know that.

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1@thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @mybestfriendmademe @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading! 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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theitgirlnetwork · 2 days

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Earn It

Ch. 4: Perfect

Baby Pics:

Birthday Looks:

Note: Okay, the love this story is getting is insane! I appreciate it so much because I love these characters and hearing what you all think. Thank you for the reblogs, notes, likes, comments and messages, I love hearing your feedback and all of the interaction. Apparently this obsession isn't going away anytime soon so I should update frequently. Also, I feel like Long Way 2 Go by Cassie is the perfect song to describe where Art and Heaven are right now. And Boyfriend by Dove Cameron gives me Heaven and Tashi. Best Friend by Rex Orange County reminds me of Heaven and Patrick right now. Let me know if you guys want me to keep giving song recs. There is a trigger warning in this one, pretty mild mention of eating disorders. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! MDNI! Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mild sexual content, mild eating disorder, strong language.

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“It’s supposed to be right up here, on the left.” Art instructs, pointing to try and guide Patrick along the cobblestone road to the large black metal gates. “Are you…left not right.”

“Okay! Well, you said both so-”

“Yeah, right up here on the left.” Art laughs, shaking his head and resting his forearm on the hot leather under the window on the passenger side.

“Would you chill out? It’s…we’re not even that late. Plus, I’m not especially excited to be meeting two sets of parents today.” Patrick drums his fingers on the steering wheel, leisurely turning onto the road and pulling up to the gate.

Art scoffs, looking at his friend out of the side of his eye. “I guess I’m not under the same pressure as you.”

Silence falls over the car as they wait for the man at the gate to place a guest sticker on the windshield of Patrick’s car. The brown haired man sits with a wry smirk, staring forward while willing himself not to glance at his friend. He was happy that overall, things haven’t changed between him and Art despite the fact that they were no longer going to school together and his sweet, sweet best friend is clearly desperately into one if not both of his girlfriends.

To be honest, it was nice to see Art want something. He’s always been a, you get what you get and don’t have a fit type of kid. The kind of guy who agreed to race Patrick to the dorms when they were kids and slowed to a jog at the first sight of Patrick pulling forward slightly. But this time things were different. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the looks. He could hear the little snarky remarks Art hides behind his easy smiles and feel the pats on the back that are suddenly leaving behind a little sting.

But he was also still his best friend Art Donaldson. The guy he taught to jerk off. The friend he shares everything with. The best partner he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s okay with how he looks at them. It’s interesting to watch these two women they met draw out a side of his friend that he could never. That doesn’t mean he’ll let him have them, though.

Which is why, he made sure to take the weekend off of his tour, to the coordinator’s outrage, to attend Tashi and Heaven’s joint birthday party back in their hometown.

People used to say that Patrick and Art were crazy close, but Tashi and Heaven were on another level. Apparently, the two were born a couple hours apart. Tashi on the night of September 15th and Heaven the morning September 16th. So here they were, driving to Heaven’s big ass house for their birthday party.

They pull up to the imposing home, and see various balloons and streamers. Next to the columns bracketing the stairs are two blown up pictures, the one on the right is clearly a baby picture of Tashi posing cutely with her hand out. The left is of a little Heaven, smiling hard with little pigtails on the side of her head.

Art hangs back a little as Patrick argues with the valet who is apparently parking the guests' cars, demanding he treat his truck with kindness. The blond man smiles softly at the picture of young Heaven and discreetly snaps a photo, sending her a text.

8:30 p.m.: Oh god, burn that shit. We’re out back. Tashi’s gonna come get you guys.

He laughs to himself and glances over to see Patrick reluctantly handing his keys over to the clearly annoyed valet.

He had been worried he and Heaven were gonna stop talking after he basically begged to finger fuck her and eat her out over the phone. There was an awkward lack of calls and messages for a few days and he grit his teeth and gave her space. But when he was sitting in the cafeteria with Tashi, she mentioned that Heaven’s first rehearsal was later in the afternoon and he couldn’t help himself. A quick message telling her he thinks she’ll do amazing revived the conversation between the two.

The large dark wooden door swings open and reveals Tashi in all her glory. She has her hair pinned up to look shorter and curled. She’s wearing a tight white shirt with light washed baggy jeans and golden hoop earrings. She looks great. A bright smile fills her face as she sees them, jogging halfway down the steps before tugging Art into a hug. “Hey, you guys made it.” she pulls away from him and Patrick steps forward giving her a kiss on the lips. Art doesn’t bother looking away and is surprised by how little the action bothers him. “You’re late. Heaven’s in the back with everyone else.”

Patrick rolls his eyes with a scoff to Art but otherwise lets the girl drag him along, Art following behind. The house looks even grander inside. Marble floors, long wooden tables with floral arrangements. A balloon arch leading into the backyard area.

Tashi moves about the place like she owns it, like she does with most rooms. But it was something about knowing she and Heaven had grown up spending time here together that made the men curious.

She steps out into the grass and smiles brightly at a group of girls that neither man recognizes, waving hi and accepting the ‘happy birthdays’ like a fucking celebrity. Music booms through several speakers and crowds of people stand in the grassy space. The gift table is filled with presents, split down the middle, one side labeled Tashi, the other Heaven.

“Tashi come dance with me.”

And there she was. Her silky dark hair is down and curled with a colorful scarf wrapped at the top. She was also wearing large gold hoops with a tight, white crop top and baggy jeans. So baggy that Patrick and Art got a clear shot of her underwear peeking through. She’s standing on the edge of the crowd with her hand outstretched for Tashi to take.

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

Tashi smirks as the pair of men drool over Heaven, pushing from in between them and going to take her hand. “One second. You’ve got to say hi. The world’s worst boyfriend and friend are finally here.”

“Hmm,” Heaven hums, wrapping her arm around Tashi and resting their intertwined fingers on her hip. “Late, aren’t we?”

“Uh, there was traffic-”

“He said we didn’t need to leave so early-”

Patrick and Art look at each other briefly before back at the girls.

“Hm.”

Tashi shrugs, pulling Heaven along with her to the drinks table, ignoring the fact that Art and Patrick were tailing behind. “Did you invite my cousin Vivian? She's over there boring my hitting partner to death.”

“No,” Heaven snorts, grabs a solo cup, putting it between her teeth as she reads the different punch flavors they had in supply. “She’s a bitch, it was probably your mom, or mine-”

“Cousin Vivian, she’s the one who-” Art begins.

“Tried to drown me at Great Wolf Lodge? Yeah, fucking lunatic. I can believe you remember that story, I told you that while you were half asleep.”

“I told you I was listening, it’s fucking wild.” Art laughs.

“I don’t know it.” Patrick cuts in, eyeing the exchange with a smile.

Heaven shrugs, passing the first cup of punch she poured to Tashi and grabbing another. “Oh, baby, the story is dorky and boring.”

“Yeah and speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Tashi chuckles, bringing the drink to her lips.

Patrick reaches into his back pocket, glancing around before producing a flask, waving it between them. “Should we, uh, make these drinks more interesting?”

Tashi’s face immediately drops and Heaven rolls her eyes, kicking Art in the shin lightly underneath the lawn table, nodding her head in Tashi and Patrick’s direction.

“We have matches coming up. No alcohol.”

“You’re going against college kids, you’re gonna win regardless of whether you have a drop of tequila.”

“Yeah, that’s not the point. And Heaven’s in rehearsals-”

“Heaven is a big girl-”

“Heaven, what do you want to drink?” Art pipes up, grabbing a solo cup himself and walking around the end of the table Heaven is on.

She clasps her hands together, glancing at the first jug she sees and decides on that. “Just, some lemonade would be great.”

“Okay.” Art smiles, starting to pour.

“I know Heaven is in rehearsals. But it’s her fucking birthday.”

Heaven’s eyes widen at that, immediately shooting to Tashi’s face. Her scowl is set in stone as she leans down into Patrick’s face. Her grumble of “You think I don’t know that?” drowns out Heaven’s correction of “Our birthday.”

A second barely passes before Tashi is flipping her hair over her shoulder and storming off in another direction. Patrick scoffs, as if he didn’t already take a step forward to follow her, being propelled even further by Heaven’s mouthing of “fix it”.

Art sips his own lemonade, looking to the ground and shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. Seriously.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing.” He laughs, ignoring Heaven’s small fist colliding with his muscled arm. He bites back a smirk when she winces, pulling her hand back to herself. “Did you…hurt your hand?”

“Could you like, shut the fuck up? Thank you.” Heaven whines, rubbing the wounded hand with the other. “You think you’re all big and bad because college tennis is doing you good? Giving your scrawny ass some muscle.”

“Glad you noticed.” he says playfully.

Heaven opens her mouth to respond, her lips part and no words come out as she drops her gaze to the ground, taking a swig of the lemonade. Two women step out of the backyard doors and make their way over to the pair, dressed in workout clothes. One of them is a black woman that could only be Heaven��s mom. She looked exactly like what Art envisions Heaven will look like in about 20 years and if you asked Art the future is fucking bright.

The other is an older white woman with a kind face and eyes that reminded him of Tashi. They looked like extremely unlikely friends. Heaven’s mom holds a stern face that makes Art feel like maybe he should take several steps away from her daughter right now while the other woman looks like she’d probably made the sugar cookies that people have been shoveling since he’d gotten there.

Despite having spoken about her family, Art knows very little about Heaven's mother. All she ever mentions about the woman is that she's very invested in her dance career and has always been pretty strict. Beyond that, whenever Heaven recounts pleasant memories from her childhood with Art, they always involved her stepdad, Tashi and her family, or when she was performing. Her mom is notably absent from almost all of her stories.

Heaven’s mother lowers the dark shades rested on her face to get a good look at Art before pushing them back into place, letting go of the other woman and wrapping her arm around Heaven’s shoulders.

“Hi, mom.” Heaven smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the cup Art poured her down on the table.

Her mother picks the cup and sniffs it before putting it back down. “Let this be the last drink you have that isn’t water, Hev. I think we’ve had enough calorie intake for the day, we don’t need you slow when you go back to rehearsals this week.”

Art’s brows furrow as he watches Heaven deflating, nodding quietly as her mom pats her stomach and talks about not eating any birthday cake on her birthday. He can’t envision anyone finding her to be anything other than beautiful, dancing or not. But he rolls his tongue in his cheek and stays silent. Maybe her mother knows something about her health that he doesn’t.

But from Heaven’s face with the verbal lashing is over, that’s not the case. Heaven’s sad brown eyes land on Art’s and she remembers that her mom hadn’t even taken the time to introduce herself. “Mom, this is Art Donaldson. He plays tennis for Stanford.”

The inspection is on him now. Heaven’s mom scans him from top to bottom before fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Is he any good?”

“Oh, I’m…I’m pretty okay-” Art says nonchalantly, cheek dimpling with an easy smile. Heaven’s mom simply blinks at him before shifting her gaze to Heaven.

“He’s great, Mom, full tennis scholarship.” She tries. “And…Tashi says he’s really good too.”

“Well, good for you.” The older woman says, nodding at her friend waving her over. “We’re going to give you kids some space and have a late dinner over at the Duncan’s house. Nothing but fruit and water, Hev.”

Heaven just dumps the lemonade into the grass, and refills the cup with water. Art watches as her mother murmurs a patronizing ‘good girl’ into Heaven’s hair, pressing a kiss there before slinging her purse over her shoulder and power walking away.

He searches his brain for something, anything to say that might make her feel better as she tugs her crop down a little in an attempt to cover up as her eyes follow her mother.

Heaven’s face is hot with embarrassment. She was used to her mother’s comments about her weight, her looks, her focus on dance. She knows that it's for a reason. She wants her to be the best dancer she can be and so she prioritizes that over all else. She’d given up her life to put Heaven in the best position possible to become a prima ballerina. Heaven is…grateful. She should be grateful. But it’s pressure. She’s doing what she loves, but it's never enough, there’s always weight to lose. She can always be stronger, faster, and work harder. And her skin could always be thicker. But even diamonds crack with the right amount of pressure.

Heaven just hates when people are there to see it.

Tashi is fucking pissed. Her hitting partner was sick and she needed to practice for a tournament coming up, so she’d asked Heaven to fill in. She couldn’t count how many times she’s sat up with Heaven, watching her dance, standing in as a partner, plotting what dance she should master for which audition. She doesn’t ask for much else in return. So, the fact that the bitch failed to show up at the courts knowing what this meant to Tashi…

She’d better have a good fucking excuse.

The tennis player storms around the back of the house, not bothering with the front door and streamlining for the stone elephant statue that kept the spare key to the back door to the house, Tashi snatches the key out of the trunk hole and pushes her way in.

Mrs. Whitlock’s car wasn’t in the driveway so she doesn’t bother stopping by the woman’s office to say hello, opting instead to stomp her way straight to Heaven’s studio. She pushes the sliding door open and prepares to tear Heaven a new one, her bag clutched tightly in her fist. She can hear her inside. She knew she’d be here. She probably found some kind of new dance she just had to learn. Or she’d forgotten her while daydreaming. Or she was late.

Tashi fucking hates late people.

“So, it’s fuck me huh?” Tashi asks, crossing her arms as she leans in the doorway. She was right, Heaven was inside. Facing away from her, standing in front of the large mirrors, something white at her feet. When the girl doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s there, Tashi rolls her eyes and steps into the room. “Fuck you, Heaven.”

She fully plans to whirl around and stomp her way out of the house. If she wants to forget her, ignore her, fine. Plenty of people would fucking love to be Tashi Duncan’s girlfriend.

But then she sees that the floor is soaking wet. Heaven’s bun is curling up from the water. The girl is drenched, standing in a pink leotard, her shoulders shaking. “Heaven?” Tashi powers forward, grabbing a wet shoulder, not letting her shock show on her face as she cups the girl’s cheek, forcing her to look at her and sees the tears streaming down her face. “What the fuck’s wrong?” She leans forward to see what’s in front of her.

A scale.

“Heaven-”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m-” Heaven wipes a hand roughly at her cheeks, turning in Tashi’s loose grip. “Nothing, what time is it?”

“It’s…it’s uh, four.”

Heaven’s watery eyes widen, a stray tear manages to escape as the girl glances down at the bag in Tashi’s hands. “Shit, babe, I’m late. I…got caught up. M’sorry. Let’s go practice. Really, m’sorry, let’s practice. We can walk to the court’s at the center.”

Tashi’s eyes flick between the scale and Heaven’s determined look. “You good?”

Heaven sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Let’s practice.”

“Yeah?” Tashi asks, tilting her head to the side as she observes her girlfriend. The girl impatiently shifts on her feet, looking off to the side and Tashi nods. “Okay.”

“Um, so,” Heaven clears her throat. “I think my dance partners are busy. You wanna dance?”

Yes. Art thinks. Immediately yes. But, was he supposed to pretend he didn’t see that interaction? Was he supposed to act like he didn’t watch how quickly her mother was able to stomp out the light in her eyes? The flirty smile she offers him isn’t the real thing that makes his heart beat fast. “Heaven-”

“Look, Art, it’s my birthday. It’s not gonna get better in one day, and right now I want to dance with a friend.” She sighs. Heaven pulls his own drink from his lips, placing it down on the table and taking his hand as she backs towards where the crowds of people were dancing. “Is that gonna be you, or do I need to find someone else?”

The pleading look on her face wears Art down and he lets her pull him to the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“It’s not about being good, it’s about having fun.” She grins, this time genuinely as Art lifts her hand, spinning her as she leads them the rest of the way.

“Yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “Says the best fucking dancer in the world.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a little bit about being good.” Heaven giggles, pushing up on her tiptoes and raising her own arm, eyebrows lifting as she waits for Art. He shakes his head chuckling.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, go.” she snorts as he rolls his eyes, ducking down under her arm so that she can spin him too. “Okay, ow, my arm, too tall.”

“See?” Art snarks, hooking his finger into her belt loop and tugging her closer, rocking them side to side as Heaven wraps her arms around his neck.

“Okay, normally I’m the one being turned, so that’s on me.” She shrugs. The music changes and Long Way 2 Go by Cassie starts blasting through the speakers. “I fucking love this song. You know this one white boy?”

“What is with you and Tashi and calling us white boys?”

“Is that not what you are?” She asks, spinning away from him as gracefully as she had the day he’d watched her at the school theater. But this time he’s part of it. He’s not just an observer, even with her just dancing casually he’s hypnotized. He hadn’t even realized he was moving with her. She’s all there is. It’s just Heaven. “It’s about how it makes you feel. Dancing makes me feel better.”

Art nods, watching her intently as she turns in his hold, back pressed to his front, hands in his hair. “I think it feels just fucking amazing dancing with you.”

“Well,” she smiles, sliding her hands over his where they’re resting on her hips. “I think it’s fucking amazing watching you play tennis. I wanna see you play again.”

“I wanna play for you.” He says desperately.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Heaven grins, facing him again, pressing their fronts together, giggling as he turns his face into her palm, pressing a kiss there. “You want to play for me?”

Before he can answer, the smile drops from her face, her head turns to the left slightly as she looks off to the side. Art turns his head, his gaze follows hers and lands on Patrick and Tashi. Always Patrick and Tashi. He brings his hand up to her jaw, gently guiding her face back to his. “I want you to look at me.”

“I am.” she whispers, looking up at him.

“Just me.”

“Art.” she says, stepping away from him with a disappointed frown.

"I know, I know, but-"

"Jesus fucking christ." She huffs, pushing his hands away completely and stomping off.

Art’s eyes scan the party carefully, as he tries to nonchalantly flick the ash from his cigarette to the ground. He has seriously cut back on smoking since he doesn’t have Patrick everyday to share them with and Tashi and Heaven turn their noses up at them. But, to say he felt anxious was an understatement.

He’d thought they were having a…thing when they were dancing before. To be fair he’s thought they’d had a lot of ‘things’ and each time they do, she retreats back. He’d like to be able to just shrug her off. To decide that she’s more trouble than what she’s worth and obviously the opposite of available and fuck off. But he can’t. It was something about her. Her eyes, the way she moves, her smile, laugh, just…Heaven. It’s what she is. The name just fucking fits.

Which is why he’s turned away three girls since she’d scrambled away from him into the house with one look back over her shoulder that had him wanting to follow behind her like a lovesick puppy.

So, here he was, blowing smoke into the night’s air while he stares at this pristine, glass back door that the girl he’s obsessed with that happens to be, at minimum, fucking his and her best friends, disappeared into.

He should have some self respect.

He should find a girl…hell he should find Tashi, the other girl who seems to occupy his mind, albeit less and less.

He should let Heaven fuck off if that’s what she wants to do.

How long can he beg her to like him back, to be interested in him?

How much more can a man take?

Art, apparently, can take at least a little more.

He flicks the bud of the cigarette to the ground and pops a piece of gum into his mouth, worried that Heaven will smell the smoke on his breath when he finds her. Art pushes the door to the house open, glancing back once to see if Tashi and Patrick were still “talking” back by the garden area.

When he’d first walked through the house he took the time to appreciate it in its glory. It’s a fucking ritzy house. It reminds him of Patrick’s house. Large and beautiful. It echoes. It’s not like his parent’s house at all. His is a family home, nicely sized but nothing as grand as this. Patrick always hated his own home, ever since he’d gone home with Art one Christmas, he almost refused to spend any holidays there. He said Art’s house seemed more ‘lived in’. Even when Art finally did get to see his best friend’s house one summer, he felt like his friend looked out of place there, even though it was where he was raised.

But Heaven…she looks like she belongs in a place like this. A place full of beautiful things is where she should live.

After searching the lower level Art stops at the bottom of the spiral stairs. His mom would kill him if she knew he was considering going through someone’s upper level without explicit permission like this. But, if…if there was a chance she was up there…

He respects the place enough to take his shoes off before making his way up the cold stairs. The upper level is dark and several degrees cooler than downstairs. He knows her mother stepped out about an hour ago, so he’s a little more confident as he slips through the long hallway, peeking his head in the open room doors, searching for her.

“Can we please not do this now?”

“So when, Heaven? I broke up with you and you don’t seem like you give a fuck. You haven’t checked on me once.”

Art pauses, hearing what he knows to be Heaven’s voice accompanied by a distinctly male voice in a room he can see is lit through the bottom of a sliding door.

“What was I supposed to do? Beg? I have too much shit to do. We didn’t work, that’s fine.”

He can almost envision the shrug she must’ve given. Her voice is so unfeeling, indifferent as the man spoke passionately, voice raising that has Art stepping closer to the door.

“So you don’t give a fuck?”

“Do you really want me to answer you?”

I wouldn’t. Art thinks to himself.

“Fucking-you can be such a bitc-”

Heaven flinches as the door to her studio slides open roughly, wood slapping into the wall as quick, heavy footsteps make their way into the room and suddenly Trevor is ripped from in front of her.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Art grits his teeth, his fists balled in Trevor’s shirt, the men stumble away from Heaven a little due to the momentum of Art rushing his way into the room.

Heaven’s eyes widen at the act of aggression from the gentle man who literally refuses to bring his voice above a soft tone when speaking to her and it's almost humorous. Like, she didn’t know what was throwing her more, the fact that he’d basically appeared and darted in to defend her honor, or the fact that he felt like he needed to defend her from the literal nobody that is her ex Trevor that clearly came to her party because he was some kind of masochist. “Oh my god, Art, that’s not necess-”

“Jesus, Heaven, how many guys are you fucking at this party?”

Oh. Well.

Now that he said that, she doesn’t feel bad when Art’s fist goes flying into his face.

Shocked? Yes. Bad? No.

A little turned on…maybe.

And that tennis must be doing more for the blond man than just making his muscles look good, because Trevor fucking hit the deck. She’ll acknowledge that she was attracted to the way Art’s jaw ticks in anger as he positions himself in front of her and plays knight in shining armor. A nice guy like him getting so mad on her behalf…

“Oh, shit.”

Trevor sputters, gripping his nose and looking up at the man in front of him. “Did you just hit me?”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that-”

“Okay, okay, Arthur…um, wow,” Heaven chuckles humorously as she stands between the two men, nodding her head toward the door. “Trevor, get the fuck out, you dumped me okay? You win. Get the fuck out.”

The red-headed boy grits his teeth in annoyance, pushing off of the floor but opting not to do much more than give Heaven a sneer because, truthfully, this blond, preppy looking kid she has guarding her knocked the shit out of him. But as he makes his way to the door, he stops and turns, unable to hold his tongue completely. “I wouldn’t bother, man. She plays games. They only give a fuck about each other. It’s not worth it.” He finishes as he cups his aching nose, turning and leaving the room.

Heaven looks at Art at that, carefully watching his expression. She can’t tell what he’s thinking as he stares after Trevor, tight muscles still tense.

“What am I supposed to call you my hero or something?” she jokes, awkwardly trying to break the silence. The room suddenly feels too full with Art’s presence in it, despite the fact that Trevor had left.

“He shouldn’t be yelling at you like that.”

“Pft, Art,” she giggles, wrapping her arms around herself. “I am not afraid of Trevor. Trust me. It doesn’t matter-”

“No one should talk to you like that.” he says seriously. He doesn’t take the bait at all, and suddenly, Heaven realizes they aren’t just talking about Trevor anymore, and not only does the room feel small, she suddenly feels naked, for his examination. His eyes are somber as he looks at her, he steps forward and she’s even more crowded.

“Did you know you have heterochromia? Your eyes are a little blue…a little brown.” She tries, taking one step back for his two steps forward. Art stops, eyes flicking down at her movement before trailing back to her face. He takes a non threatening stance, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head down as he looks into her eyes with the softest gaze anyone had ever given to her. He won’t push. Not if she doesn’t want him to. “Are you enjoying our party?”

Our. Right now she’s running. And he’s chasing. It seems to be how they like it. Both of them.

“I am.” He says breezily, a small smile gracing his face. “I even danced with this girl.”

“Was she hot?” Heaven jokes, walking out of the middle of the room and resting her hands behind her on one of the bars on the wall.

Like a string is pulling him, Art follows. She leads this dance. Bringing him in, enticing him to follow her, giving him a taste before pulling away for him to trail behind her again. It’s like an invisible string is pulling him when he steps forward, wetting his bottom lip as he moves to stand before her again. “Fucking gorgeous. But she left me on the dance floor.”

“What a bitch.”

He chuckles, shaking his head no. “She’s just got a lot going on.” He shrugs, looking down at his feet. Art sucks in a breath at the next thing that pops into his brain, but he can’t stop it. He looks back up at Heaven with a wry smile and releases his breath. “But I’ll wait.”

The offer hangs in the air. And Heaven retreats. Her hand shoots up to her name chain as she uses the other to clutch the bar even tighter, dragging herself closer against it. “Why?”

“Because she’s…perfect.”

Heaven’s head drops immediately at that, she purses her lips, looking over to the large mirrors to the left of them, staring at herself. “No. She’s not.”

“Yes, you are.” He says indignantly, dropping the facade and taking away the privilege of space. He reaches out and encases her wrist gently in his large hand, tugging her closer to him. Art walks them over to the mirror and pushes Heaven to stand in front of him, rubbing his hands along her sides. “You’ve got perfect everything.” His hands slide along her hips and squeeze, eliciting a gasp from Heaven. “Perfect hips. Perfect legs-” they move to the front of her thighs before trailing over her pelvis and along her stomach, “Perfect stomach and arms,” Art’s hands squeeze Heaven’s shoulders before dropping back to her stomach, holding her against him, “Perfect shoulders, and neck-” he murmurs against the soft skin of her shoulder before dragging his way up to her neck, placing deep kisses there.

He expects her to push him away. He feels her hand slip up into his blond curls like it had when they’d danced, but she just pulls him closer. Her back arches forward slightly as she tugs his hair and he kisses her neck. “Art-”

“You’re so fucking perfect, please let me touch you.” he pleads. And forces himself to wait. All he wants to do is bruise her perfect neck. Leave his mark. Make her feel good. Know that he did it. Art knows he’s playing the long game. The first match that he lost to Patrick, it was just the first set. The game isn’t over. Art wants to win.

So he fucking waits.

He’s easygoing, and offers her a smile when she wrenches herself from him, breathing heavily and rushing off to a bathroom to get a first aid kit from his hand he hadn’t even noticed started bleeding.

“Does, um…does that hurt?”

“No.” He says, sitting criss-crossed on the polished wooden floor with Heaven perched in front of him, refusing to look up from his hand. “Thank you.” he smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, for sure.” She stammers, finishing off with the last of her band-aids. “Sorry, they’re all my skin tone-”

“No, it’s fine, thank you, Heaven.” He tries to soothe her nervousness. “She’s a fucking medic too, ladies and gentlemen. See, fucking amazing.”

Heaven rolls her eyes and leans down, pressing a light kiss to his hand. “All better.”

Art hangs his head, laughing breathily and before looking back at her, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You suck you know that?”

A small grin forms on Heaven’s own face as she rocks from side to side. “What? Why?”

“How is a guy not supposed to fall in love with you when you’re doing shit like that?” He says, laying back on the wooden floors, absently thinking how nice it would be to see her dance again as he envisions what it's like in here when she’s alone, letting go, dancing for herself.

Heaven shrugs, laying down beside him, nudging his arm. “I dunno. Remember that I'm dating your best friend…and mine…and that you walked in on my ex basically calling me the wicked bitch of the west-”

“He’s stupid, you’re a goddamn princess.”

“I just dance like one, Art,” she turns her head to face him and wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s all an illusion.”

“No. It’s not.” He says, reaching over and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips before resting it on his chest, toying with her fingers with his own. Heaven groans loudly, kicking her feet up and letting them slap back to the floor sloppily. “What?” he chuckles.

She sits up, twisting her body and planting both hands on the floor, one on each side of his head, her hair dangling around them as she stares down at him. His blue and brown eyes swirl with something she’s not willing to acknowledge as she stares down at him. Heaven leans down, bringing her face close to his. “You’re not making this easy for me, Arthur.”

He offers her an innocent look back, willing himself not to tug her down the rest of the way. “Can’t help it.”

“Hev,” a voice calls from the doorway. Heaven scrambles back from Art, leaping to her feet and sees Tashi leaning in the doorframe, an easy smile on her lips. Her arms are crossed as she takes them in. “We’re ready to sing happy birthday. It’s a few minutes ‘til midnight, you’ll officially be 19. You done here?” She asks, a cocky smile on her face as she raises her eyebrows.

“Um,” Heaven smoothes her hair out, glancing down briefly at Art who is still on the floor, staring up at her. “Yeah.”

Walking straight for the door, Heaven grabs Tashi’s hand and leads her out of the room, powering forward as she drags her girlfriend out of the room. She doesn’t bother looking back for the blond man she left behind, painting a smile on her face as they made their way back outside.

As their friends and family countdown from 10 she and Tashi are guided to the middle of the backyard with a large cake in front of them, their names scribbled next to each other. Heaven squeezes Tashi’s hand, pulling her closer and wrapping her arm around her as they look at the blue and pink candles lit in front of them. “It wasn’t anything, T.”

“S’okay, babe. Seriously.” Tashi says through her smile as one of the girls from school takes a picture of them, cupping Heaven’s face and kissing her deeply. She knows that he’s watching. That they’re both watching.

So Art won a set. So the fuck what? Tashi smiles to herself as Heaven grins at her, murmuring a happy birthday as they hug each other. She can see the two men standing together, watching them intently, not knowing if they were jealous of them or because of them, and she knows the match isn't over.

#oc #earn it #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x oc #art donaldson x patrick zweig #tashi duncan x oc #patrick zweig x tashi duncan #art donaldson x tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x oc #patrick zweig #love #art donaldson challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers 2024 #challengers movie

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mickandmusings · 1 day

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love you, miss you, mean it (ii)

*part two of the original!*

**read part one here!**

pairing: bob floyd x f!kazansky reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: during his time back at topgun, bob finds a found family within the daggers. now that the special detachment mission is over, the daggers are being recognized for their success, and all of their families are gathered around them. when rooster recognizes an esteemed guest arrive with shiny new wedding bands, bets are on who the admiral's daughter is married to.

based on this ask! (thanks for the best ideas frank <3)

warnings: mentions of injury and hospitals, a small section of angst, dagger family love, phoenix being my fav ever, angst followed by more bubble gum fluff.

Years later, after a long engagement and an intimate backyard wedding, flight school and master's programs, TOPGUN (the first time,) and a handful of deployments and moves, Bob and Y/N Floyd now lived in a cottage-style home not far from the beaches of North Island. Well, they did for the past few months, since Bob got his call back to TOPGUN. Y/N didn't mind, she knew what she was signing up for when she married a Navy man, she only missed Bob now more than ever. She occupied her time by walking their dog, visiting her Dad who lived only a ten minute drive away, and rewatching her favorite TV show while she waited for Bob to come home at night. This mission had been different from the others, not that Bob nor her Dad could tell her much, the details had been fairly secretive. Y/N only knew that Bob left early in the morning, almost always before the sun, pushing his glasses up his nose and kissing her forehead. He'd return home after the sun had set, reeking of jet fuel and sweat. He'd be exhausted and dirty, but he'd make sure to take his sleeping wife from the couch to their shared bed before going to shower the day off of him. He'd be gone by the time she woke every morning, but there was always a post-it on her coffee mug in his scratchy handwriting:

Love you, miss you, mean it.

Y/N knew about his new teammates, the cocky Hangman, the kind and charming Rooster, the pranking, jokester duo of Payback and Fanboy, the smooth talking Coyote, and of course the infamous Maverick, who she knew better as Uncle Mav. Maverick had been in and out of her house throughout her whole life, which Bob was somewhat shocked and also unsurprised to know. She knew every time he was about to go into the air, accompanied by his new partner, Phoenix, who he talked about most of all. Y/N would hear her phone ding with a message, checking it quickly to see Bob's name flash across the screen.

In the air with Phoe, love you, miss you, mean it. x

The phrase that had started as an inside joke had slowly become a term of love that she looked forward to every day. It gave her something to look forward to, a sign that he was okay, that at least for a brief moment in time, he was okay.

After a week or so into his new training, Y/N began to notice some differences in her husband. He was still mostly himself-quiet but talkative in her presence, talking about his day with an upbeat attitude, but any mention of their present mission would send the corners of his smile downward a bit. Y/N didn't fully understand why, but with the amount of talented pilots and WSO's on this mission, she knew it was a dangerous one.

Several days later, Y/N woke up feeling...out of place. She had woken earlier than normal, considering how late she had stayed up waiting for Bob to get home. She felt uneasy, but blamed it on her lack of sleep. She continued her routine like normal-coffee, breakfast, walking the dog, starting the laundry-but every time she started a new task her mind began to wander. She knew she was likely overreacting, her mind playing tricks on her. When she came in from her walk, she immediately checked her phone, her thoughts taking over. She breathed a sigh of relief, there were no terrible messages or missed calls, only random notifications from her installed apps. Y/N still feels shaky for reasons she can't explain, so she reaches for the one person she always calls when she feels this way. It rings for a few seconds before the call picks up and her father's voice fills her ears.

"Hey, pumpkin! What's going on?"

Y/N sighs, biting her lip.

"Hey, Dad, sorry to bother you at work, I just, I've got a bad feeling I can't shake...I-I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, hey, none of that. Nothing's wrong with you," her father's voice was calm and comforting. "Remember what we do when you have thoughts like this?"

Y/N was about to respond when her phone beeped with another incoming phone call from an unidentified number. Y/N's eyebrows furrowed, she recognized the local area code.

"Dad, let me call you back, I'm getting a call."

Her father signed off quickly, and Y/N's heart hammered as she answered the other number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Y/N Floyd?"

"Um, yes, this is she. May I ask who's calling?"

"Mrs. Floyd, this is the Naval Medical Center of San Diego. You've been listed as the emergency contact of Lt. Robert Floyd-"

Y/N's ears seemed to flood with water, unable to hear anything the nurse on the other line was saying as she sank onto the nearby chair, forcing her brain to tune into the words coming through the speaker.

"He is in stable condition, he is alert with no serious injuries. We would just like to keep him overnight for further observation."

"O-Okay, um, thank you. Am I allowed to see him?"

"Of course, he's in room 431, just visit the desk before to get a visitor's pass."

"Thank you."

Y/N hung up the phone and collapsed against the back of the sofa, her chest heavy and eyes overwhelming with tears. Her phone beeps, reminding her that her father was still on hold. She takes a deep breath, wiping away her flurry of tears before pressing the button and rising form the couch, in search of her keys.

"Hey, everything alright?" Her dad's soft voice entered her ears.

"Uh, no, no," She couldn't keep her resolve, her tough facade faltering quickly. She knew that Bob was fine, that he hadn't been hurt, but the phone call had terrified her. "Bobby and his partner had to emergency eject, he's at the hospital. I-the nurse said he was fine, but it scared the shit out of me, Dad."

She pulled her keys from the bowl by the door, all but racing towards her car as her father tried to calm her, reassuring her everything was fine.

Bob leans back against the pillow on the hospital bed, his few scratches and cuts already bandaged. Phoenix had been the same, the dark haired pilot now sitting in a chair next to her backseater's bedside.

"My wife is gonna kill me," Bob's quiet voice finally broke the silence, his eyes toward the ceiling.

Phoenix wasn't an idiot-she knew that her partner had a wife. Bob was quiet, private, especially with the other members of the squad, but Phoenix was incredibly observant. She noted the gold band on the chain around his neck under his flight suit, and the Polaroid picture of him and a girl tucked into his chest he glanced at from time to time. She'd never press him to talk about it, but she noticed.

"Doubt it," came her reply. "She's probably freaking out though. Not a common occurrence that your loved ones have to eject a fighter jet."

Bob's eyebrows raised, "When your father is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet, you get used to it."

Phoenix's eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "Holy shit, Floyd! You married an Admiral's daughter?! Iceman's daughter, no less! I never would have thought that. Innocent little Bob, with an Admiral's daughter."

Bob chuckles lightly, sitting up with a slight groan. Footsteps sounded behind them, Y/N appearing before both of them. She had been crying, Bob noted quickly, her clothes disheveled as if she had simply ran out of the house.

"Baby," Bob's voice came, Y/N saying nothing as she approached him, doing nothing but wrapping her arms around his torso, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She nearly cried at his familiar touch, his familiar smell-jet fuel, sweat, the lingering scent of his cologne. Any other time, she would've pushed him off lightly, telling him he needed a shower, but now, she wouldn't have cared if he smelled like rotting food. Bob's muscular arms held her tight, kissing the top of her head.

"Robert Floyd, you scared the living shit out of me. Never do that again."

He knew his wife's words were in jest, she had been shaken by the news of his ejection, but was thankful he was okay. The couple broke apart, Y/N's hands pushing Bob's hair that had fallen in his face, his hands on either side of her hips. Y/N turned to the girl in the chair, her face clouding over with embarrassment.

"I am so sorry, I completely barged in without even speaking. You must be Phoenix. I've heard so much about you, it's so great to meet you. I'm Y/N."

Phoenix smiles, "Natasha, it’s great to meet you too. Although I can’t say the same, Bob here keeps all intel about you on pretty tight lock. Don’t blame him though, the others would probably give him hell for snagging an Admiral’s daughter.”

Y/N blushes but laughs heartedly at Phoenix’s jab, the two quickly falling into a conversation with one another. Bob sits back and watches, his thumb rubbing his wife’s diamond ring and wedding band where their hands intertwined. As he watched the two women bond, he began to think of the rest of his found family. He wanted to introduce Y/N to the other Daggers, for his favorite people to finally all know one another.

The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of the Daggers’ recognition ceremony after their successful mission. All of the Daggers and their respective families would be present, and of course, Ice would be there as well, as long as numerous other Navy personnel.

Under the summer sun of North Island, each of the Daggers sported their dress whites, their families in chairs in the crowd. Bob sat next to Phoenix, the pair exchanging knowing glances when people they knew arrived, or when certain family members arrived in a sort of over-the-top fashion. Phoenix had nudged him harshly with her elbow when Y/N arrived, dazzling in her sundress, sunglasses over her eyes as her arm was interlaced with her father’s.

“Since when was Ice Spice married?” Rooster’s voice sounded amongst the small crowd the Daggers had formed. “I swear I saw rings on her left hand. I mean I haven’t actually seen her since we were like sixteen, but I didn’t know she got married.”

“Ice Spice? The hell are you talking about, Bradshaw?” Hangman’s southern accent responded, eyes squinting as he looked into the crowd. “You mean Admiral Kazansky’s daughter? ‘Ice Spice’ where’d that come from?”

“It was her nickname, we grew up around the same people, most of the kids nicknames were extensions of their Dad’s call signs. Baby Goose,” he gestured to himself. “Ice Spice.” He gestured to Y/N. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend though, God I’m out of the loop.”

Bob couldn’t help but grin to himself, almost glad he’d not told anyone other than Phoenix, whose brown eyes were piercing the side of his head, as if to say ‘are you gonna say something?!’

“She’s gotta be married to someone here, though, right?” Coyote’s voice sounded. “Not like she’s coming to all her Dad’s events for shits and giggles. My money’s on someone higher up, some other Admiral or something.”

Fanboy scoffs, “Who? Cyclone?” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

“No fucking way,” came Payback’s reply. “She’s way too good looking for someone like him. Way too young too, he’s ancient next to her.”

All Dagger eyes were locked on Y/N from across the pavilion, her smile wide as she spoke with another Admiral’s wife Bob couldn’t quite remember the name of.

“I’m gonna go with Javy’s theory. Nobody under Ice would be man enough to try to date his daughter. I’m a cocky son of a bitch, but one look from Iceman makes sweat roll down my back.” Hangman’s response was honest.

“He’s not so bad,” Bradley spoke. “But you’re not wrong, he’s one hell of an intimidating man. You’d have to have balls of steel to approach him about dating his daughter, especially if you’re under him.”

Bob smirked, remembering just how nervous he had been on Tom Kazansky’s front door at seventeen years old.

“What about you two? Where are you placing your bets?” Mickey looked over at Bob and Natasha.

Phoenix’s smile widens into a sly grin, the one she gets when she proves Rooster wrong, or gets one over on Hangman in the air.

“Girl like her-gorgeous, high-ranking father, everyone seems to love her. My guess is on someone you’d never expect, someone out of left field.”

Hangman nods, contemplating. “What about you Baby on Board?”

Bob’s eyes widen beneath his glasses as he scrambles for a thought. He looks over at his wingman, Phoenix giving him a look that undoubtably means to play along with it.

“Uh, I gotta go with Nat’s theory.”

“Course you do,” Coyote jokes. “So $100 on the bets, winning team take all?”

The Daggers agree unanimously, Phoenix’s grin almost slimy with satisfaction.

“Floyd,” a slap on Bob’s shoulder jolts him into sitting straight before turning to look at where the voice came from. “Good to see you, man. Haven’t seen you and the missus around much lately.”

“Admiral Jones, good to see you,” Bob shakes the older man’s hand with a firm grip. “They’ve been keeping me busy. I think we’re coming to the barbecue Sunday, you and Mrs. Jones enjoy Boston? How were the grandkids?”

The Daggers watch intently as the most reserved member of their group chats animatedly with an Admiral that they’d only seen in passing, Phoenix stifling a chuckle at the secret only she seems to know. The Admiral walks away after a moment, and Bob turns back to the group, who all look at him as if waiting for an explanation.

“Neighbor,” came Bob’s short reply.

“Missus?” Rooster’s voice speaks, his whiskey colored eyes shooting down to Bob’s hands, his wedding band glimmering in the sun. “I’ve never seen you with that.”

“Oh, no, probably not,” Bob starts. “Wear it on my dog tags when we’re in the air.”

“Bob’s married, and we’re all bachelors? Never saw that coming.” Hangman’s voice pipes up.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Payback’s retort is the last chuckle as the ceremony begins.

Admiral Kazansky opens the ceremony, introducing Maverick and the other members respectively, honoring them and finishing out the ceremony as quickly as professional. As the service ends, the Daggers distribute but keep close quarters, looking to see who the Kazansky girl ends up running to. Meanwhile, Phoenix watches as Bob interacts with nearly every member of high-ranking in attendance. He goes from bumbling, awkward Bob, to some other version of himself that makes dad jokes and has a firm handshake.

“Well Phoe,” Rooster speaks as he sits down in the chair next to her. “The only person I’ve seen her hug is Mav, and I know it’s not him. Should I just ask her myself?”

Phoenix face breaks out into a full blown smile as she watches Y/N make a quick sprint through the crowd of Navy uniforms to get to her husband, her arms thrown around his neck as her smile could blind.

“Won’t be necessary, Roo. I think the mystery has been solved, and I’m about to be $300 richer.”

Rooster’s eyes cut to his childhood friend embracing his teammate, Bob’s hands resting respectively on her waist, his blue eyes locked on his wife.

“Holy shit. Bob? And Ice Spice? Jesus-you-“ he turns to face Natasha. “You knew!”

“They’re high school sweethearts. Got married right after he finished the Academy, been together ever since. Live in one of those cute cottage houses by Penny’s, got a Corgi named Solo. Frequent guests at most Navy personnel barbecues, birthdays, weddings-it was Bob’s story, didn’t seem right for me to tell.”

Rooster sighs, standing to tell Coyote who stood talking with his sister. Javy’s eyes widen, looking over at the couple who is now talking to another Admiral and his wife, Y/N’s laugh fading into the crowd of voices. Javy nudges Jake talking beside him, Jake’s cocky grin fading as Mickey and Rueben have both already noticed. Their looks of shock fade momentarily as Bob pulls Y/N towards their direction, a smile plastered onto his face. Y/N’s smile is bright, her arm intertwined with her husbands, her pastel purple dress blowing in the sea breeze.

“Floyd! Got somethin’ you’d like to tell us?” Hangman’s shit-eating grin faced Bob.

Bob let’s out a chuckle. “Y/N, meet the one and only Hangman.”

Y/N smiles, nodding, “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Seresin.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hangman gives Bob a wink as Bob flips him off in response.

“Ignore him, baby.” Bob’s voice is full of good-natured humor, used to the teasing. “The tall one is Coyote, next to him is Payback, Fanboy, of course you know Phoe, and R-“

“Bradley Bradshaw,” his wife’s voice speaks. “How long has it been?”

She approaches Rooster with her arms wide open, Bradley reciprocating her hug.

“Too long, Ice Spice. How’d a nice girl like you end up with our Bob here?”

Y/N’s eyes furrow, her smile never faltering. “Um, when Dad and I moved, Bobby and I went to the same high school, been together ever since, high school sweethearts.” Her eyes sparkled as they met Bob’s sapphire ones, her arm going back around his arm. “What can I say? He’s a charmer.”

The Daggers hovered for nearly an hour, all taking turns swapping stories with Bob and his wife, getting to know one another. They mostly told stories to embarrass Bob, jabbing at him and his ‘balls of steel’ for not only dating, but marrying an Admiral’s daughter. Commending him on his royal stupidity for hiding his wife from them, all commenting that she was infinitely cooler than Bob himself. Bob took them all in stride, giving Y/N a kiss to her head before Phoenix began chatting with his wife. Standing in the center of the big group of people he considered family, his wife on his arm, charming them all, his heart swelled in his chest, warmness blooming, the same warmth he had felt when he spent time in the Kazansky house-true familial love, understanding someone without having to say a word.

As the Daggers split off one by one, leaving only Bob and Y/N, he pulled her close, hand on her waist, the setting sun and light breeze a picturesque backdrop for their night.

“Hey, Floyd?” His wife’s sweet voice reached his ears.

“Yeah, Floyd?” He chuckled back, pulling her in closer, leaving a kiss on her temple.

“We should have a celebration of your successful mission. A real one, not a formal one like this. We could invite everyone, all the Daggers, and their families. We haven't had Nat around at the house yet, and Dad would love it, would give him and Uncle Mav more time to conjure up how to terrorize the Navy even further.”

Bob nods, “I like that idea. Sounds good, I’ll text the group, see what weekend works best." His voice turns serious. "Thank you, baby, you’ve always been my biggest supporter, feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

His wife is quiet for a moment, her focus on her shoes walking on the ground. She looks up at him, her expression serious.

“I’m proud to call you my husband. Always have been, but just thought I should remind you. And as much as I’ve missed you through this special training, it’s nice to see you have other people who take care of you, appreciate you like I do.” She’s quiet before she starts again. “All that to say, love you, missed you, mean it.”

Bob laughs loudly into the air, stopping to pull his wife into a proper kiss, one a tad more inappropriate than the chaste ones he’d given her after the ceremony. The two finally break after a need for air arises, their pupils blown wide as they stare at one another.

“How long do you think we have until your Dad notices we’re not at his place for dinner?” Bob’s voice is deeper, sultry.

“Long enough,” his wife replies. Bob smiles and picks her up into his arms bridal style, her laughter boisterous as he races her back to his trusty pick-up truck parked close by, his chest so full of love for her he simply can’t contain his wide grin filling his face.

As he starts the truck and peels out of the parking lot, he looks over at his wife, her curled hair blowing in the wind from the rolled down window, her pastel purple dress highlighting her best features. He’s hit with a wave of nostalgia, a younger version of his wife in this same truck-her hair a bit longer, her eyes still wide with new love, a purple corsage on the same hand where a wedding band now sits.

“What?” She giggles, noticing his stare on her as they’re stopped at a red light.

“You’re beautiful.” She blushes pink, just like she had at the bottom of her childhood home’s staircase, the night Bobby had uttered those words through a shaking voice.

He thinks of seventeen-year-old Bobby, the version of himself who had said those words for the first time, more in love with Y/N now than he was then. If only seventeen-year-old Bobby could see him now, maybe he wouldn’t have been shaking with nerves, sweating through his rented tux. Bob smiles to himself as Y/N leans to turn the radio up, a folk song they both love.

He shakes his head, maybe it’s best his younger version didn’t know the outcome. The nerves were good, healthy. Even shaking, stammering teenage Bobby had more nerve than he thought. After all, he was there to pick up an Admiral’s daughter.

#bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #top gun #request

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