#top gun bob x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliorsboxostuff · 10 months

Note

bob Floyd x male reader who is quiet and intimidating, only to silently become a guard dog to him

idk I haven't slept, hope this makes sense

OOOOOH THIS TURNED OUT SO NICE TBH I love grumpy x sunshine sm :(( it's such a cute trope uGHHH and writing this was such a trip lmao I loved how it turned out tbh thanks so much for the idea!! so I hope you all do too!

Note: Reader is regarded as Panther for his callsign. The fic is in a 3rd POV.

Stone-Cold

Tags: Robert Floyd/Male Reader, Bob x Male-aviator!Reader, sunshine x grumpy!!, Robert Floyd, Natasha Trace, Bradley Bradshaw, Jake Seresin, Halo, Fritz, Yale, Rest of the Dagger Squad, Maverick, Iceman, Penny, Meet-cute, First meeting, Fluff, Implied smut, kissing, making out, getting together, separation, slight angst, time skips, NOT TOO MUCH THO!, No use of Y/N, slight OOC, Background Icemav, Background Sereshaw, Background relationships, i don't know shit about fighter pilots, only did small research lmao

Bob met Panther, a dark-eyed individual who never even glanced in his direction. But that soon changes when he finally gains his friendship and the two hit it off, flying through a healthy relationship, a falling out, and a reunion.

—

The first time Bob met Panther was in basics. Panther stood a foot taller than him, with dark eyes that were only focused on the board whenever they were in class. Due to his height, Panther was situated in the back, just two rows behind where Bob usually sits. A suffocating dark air seems to always follow the man, making his classmates, including Bob, avoid him most of the time. It doesn't help that the man barely talks, it's a miracle they even knew his Callsign.

They say he got it after someone from his old crew saw him in the middle of the night, outside of the building, with glowing golden eyes. Paired with his big build, Bob hopes the Callsign story is nothing but a rumor of some drunken crew that stumbled his way and saw Panther that night.

It was a usual Wednesday. His class has departed to spend their lunchtime while Bob makes his way to the cafeteria, reviewing the lesson plan inside his head. While he was too engrossed in his little ramblings, he hadn't realized he bumped into someone waiting in the line in front of him. Bob immediately stops and rubs his nose which took the burn of the bump.

“Sorry!” He quickly musters, realizing he had to incline his head in order to meet the person's eyes, and much to his surprise, it was Panther. The man raised a brow and fixed Bob with a stare that made the shorter pilot gulp. Suddenly, Panther shrugs and turns back around, as if to brush off an insignificant bug. Now that is a treatment Bob is familiar with, so he’s back to looking down into his binder while waiting for his turn.

After obtaining his lunch, he looks around for his usual table, on the far end of the large room. He smiles to himself as he spots it vacant and makes his way to his place. As he sets his tray down, a similar noise follows. Bob raises his head to find Panther, he was the one placing his tray in front of Bob. His eyes widen, panic settling in before he hears the tall man in front of him speak. “Is… this seat taken?”

To hear Panther's voice was a rarity, the man only spoke in class if their instructor specifically asked him to answer. He sounded… Timid—Far from what Bob’s expectation was. The brunette stumbles on his words, finding his voice to answer the man in front of him.

“N-no, go ahead,” Bob manages a welcoming smile, well, he hopes it was welcoming. Panther nods, and takes his seat and so does Bob. He puts aside his binders and readjusts his glasses, a nervous habit. He finds himself looking at his tray of food, then back to his books, then to the blank table. Bob doesn't know what to do with his hands. Awkwardness surrounds both of them.

“I see you took notes of today's class,” Panther was the one who broke it.

Bob perks, before he sheepishly nods. “Yeah its, uh- good for review,”

“Do you think… You can explain some stuff to me? I didn't really catch today's lesson…” The taller man looks to his side, then scratches the back of his neck. Behind his glasses, Bob’s eyes lit up, before he smiled and nodded, his hands already on their way to open one of his many binders.

That was the start of Bob's and Panther's friendship. He admits, he never had the best experience with his peers. Most of the time he’s left alone or is only noticed whenever they have a question, no one ever truly became close with Bob. No one’s ever picked on him, that would be childish, but then again—If you pile some humans filled with testosterone in one shower room, there's bound to be some name-calling or stink eyes. Bob has had his fair share of it, never taken it to heart, even if some days it hurts more than it looks.

But ever since Panther spends his lunch with Bob, the other guys have chosen to leave him alone, even in the shower rooms. No one ever laughed behind his back again, those whispers whenever he was in class or passing by has also disappeared. Panther has spent the better half of his day sticking to Bob, being by his side, going where Bob is going, and only separates when they have different schedules or if he was waiting for his own turn in the rec room while Bob is in training.

It’s been a couple of months since their initial meeting now. Bob and Panther are well into their flight training program, and are currently leading in their class grade. Two of the best in their class, with Bob having a couple of scores above Panther.

The clock barely touched 8 PM. Panther was lounging about in Bob’s room, with his roommate being somewhere in the city, no doubt getting drunk between girls, Panther was free to roam in his best friend's room. Bob is currently on his bed, reading something from a textbook while Panther was doing nothing in particular on the floor, his long limbs strewn about. The only thing illuminating the room is the stripes of moonlight and the dim light of Bob's bedside lamp.

“Hey Bob,” Panther calls from the floor. Bob hums. “Ever thought of getting into Top Gun?”

Bob tilts his head slightly. He closes the textbook, putting his glasses aside before leaning on the edge of his mattress. “Maybe. Why?”

“Nah, just thought if you wanted to, you could,” Panther grins up to a confused Bob.

“What's that supposed to mean?” The brunette smiles, strands of his fringe falling into his eyes.

“You’re smart. Smarter than all of us in class, not to mention you’re a half-decent pilot,” Bob chuckles at that, now fully leaning down to meet his friend's eyes. Panther smiles up at him. “I think you’d make it into Top Gun.”

While Bob doesn't have his glasses on, Panther's smile is just as warm, feeling it seeping into his skin. “You smile more around me,”

Panther’s smile faltered slightly, before he suddenly sat up, supported by his arms behind him, and then they were inches apart. Bob’s eyes widen, finding how close his friend is sitting, he can practically breathe him in. The brunette blinks, swallowing a lump. “That day, the first time we talked, why did you choose to sit with me?”

Panther’s lips are parted slightly. “I just… I knew you weren't as shit as the others,”

Bob huffs a laugh and Panther mimics it. “Really?”

“Yeah, plus…” Panther leans closer, his voice drops into a whisper. “You were the only one worth talking to,”

It happened so slowly. Bob closes his eyes before he feels the man's lips on his, trusting himself wholly to Panther. He feels himself being pushed, his hands scrambling to wrap around Panther's shoulders before he pushes Bob onto the bed and he climbs in himself, lips never parting. He presses and presses, until Bob's lips part and he feels Panther's tongue slips in, which makes Bob groan between their breath and pants. Bob finds himself laid beneath Panther, feeling his friend's hair between his fingers, the solid weight on top of him calms his pestering anxiety. He’s shared a kiss or two, and dated some girls and one boy, but has never gone as far as making out. But despite it all, Panther's mere existence on top of him, caging him in, soothes his worries, and is willing to follow Panther into the long night.

He’s lucky his roommate came back late because he had to kiss Panther goodbye as he sneaked back into his room, not before he heard the man groan from outside his doors; something about his roommate asking questions about last night, which made Bob laugh.

Before Panther left, they had woken up in each other's arms, Bob had the best sleep he’s had in years. Panther was playing with Bob’s curly morning hair, before the more petite man groans and reaches numbly for his glasses, at which Panther laughs and hands it to him. Once he situated his glasses, he finds himself looking at the man on top of him, a soft smile between those addicted lips. “Morning,” He said.

“Mornin’” Bob drawls, turning to face Panther. He smiles, before pressing a kiss to Bob's temple, which Bob closes his eyes upon feeling it. Instead of pulling back, Panther stays there.

“I hope this isn't a one-time thing,” He mumbles into Bob's curls. The brunette blinks, before he pulls back to meet Panther's eyes.

“It isn't.” So serious, so sure of his words. Bob was famous for his hesitation, for his timidness in front of his peers, but this. This, he’s confident about.

Pather’s blank stare breaks into a smile, before he dives back in and smothers Bob with kisses, pulling him right back into his arms, and they spend the rest of the dawn just like that.

—

Bob graduated on top of his class. Pather follows just behind him, but despite it, they’re both worthy of their wings of gold.

After their graduation ceremony, after the pictures and congratulations from instructors and family members, and awkwardly meeting Bob’s cheerful parents and myriads of siblings, after meeting Panther's own family, the two finally manage to sneak away. Panther pulls Bob into the back of his Land Rover, the shorter male giggling as his boyfriend smothers him in kisses.

“I’m so proud of you,” Panther smiles, pulling back from his grinning boyfriend. Bob's glasses are askew, a wide smile on his lips. He can feel himself blushing, the steady heat spreading through his cheeks, which makes Panther lean back in to kiss him again.

They both ended up in the back seat of Panthers Rover, entwined with each other, breathing in lungfuls, a smile on both of their lips. Bob leans to bury himself deeper into Panther's chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips. Panther hums, his arm pulling Bob closer. His other hand examines the small wing, it reflects the night's shine.

“What now?” Panther sighs, pocketing the golden wings then turns to his boyfriend. Bob's brown eyes shine with the moonlight.

“I don't know,” The brunette looks out of the car’s window. “Get assigned a squadron,”

It would be the next step in their career. Panther has learned that Bob would be aiming to get into Top Gun, and he would be following Bob if he could, always one step behind him.

Panther turns to face Bob, the aviator picking at his finger. He slowly entwines his fingers with Bob’s, making him glance up to meet Panther's eyes. The taller male softly smiles, moving a stray hair from Bob's eyes. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,”

—

Two weeks after their Uranium mission, the crew has decided to hang out in the Hard Deck before some of them get shipped out into another deployment. Rooster was busy with Hangman, the two have been getting along ever since Hangman saved Rooster and Mav’s lives. They hung at one of the back tables of the Hard Deck, a bottle of beer in each other's hand. They’re standing awfully close, which makes Phoenix raise a brow.

“Let’s hope they don't break each other's heart again,” Bob snickers, picking at his cashews.

“You don't want to take care of Roo?”

“God no, you're lucky you weren't there for the first time,” Phoenix’s face scrunches in disgust, which makes Bob laugh. The WSO has been sticking with his pilot for most of their leisure time, mostly because he didn't know where else to go. Bob supposed he’ll follow where his next mission took him, or hope Cyclone is merciful and put him and Phoenix on the same crew.

Coyote and Payback are playing pool, along with the others, sometimes cheering one of them on or laughing at a joke or quip the group would say. Maverick said he couldn't join the crew, something about spending his day with Iceman, which they all completely understood and cheered in their group chat. It's a particularly slow day for the Hard Deck, not a lot of patrons on this sunny Wednesday. Penny was conversing with another patron, and overall calming noon washing over Fightertown.

The doors of Hard Deck chimes open. Bob and Phoenix are engrossed in their conversation, and despite standing on the other side of the bar, they did not recognize the customer that came in. A tall man on his peripherals is the only thing Bob notices before Phee makes him laugh and he’s back to ducking.

“Hey there, I'm looking for a Bob Floyd?”

The familiar voice almost gave Bob whiplash as he turned his head. And he thought he'd lost him…

“Panther?”

The man in question walks past the bar and finds the familiar and comforting blue of Bob’s eyes. The pilot stands from his stool, taking shaky steps toward Panther.

The last Bob ever heard of Panther was years ago, before his first deployment as they were assigned their own squadron. Bob was devastated that he wouldn't be getting the same squadron as Panther did, but with reassuring parting words, Panther promised the younger pilot that they’d meet again, one way or another. Since then, Bob has been moving from one deployment to another, meeting new people and squadrons, and experiencing different pain and happiness in his life. He got into the Top Gun program, and he met his current friends. He met Phoenix, Rooster, Fanboy and the others, but despite it all he had hoped to somehow see Panther again.

He never considered the man to find him.

“Hey,” Panther's smile is just as blinding as he remembers it. He gives Bob a once over, spotting the outfit Bob is wearing, before he chuckles. “Never changed, huh?”

Bob follows his laugh, finding the courage to reach out to hold Panther's wrist, which makes a steady blush rise to his cheeks. Panthers laugh stutters before he clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck.

“And you never changed too,” Panther's eyes widen a bit, before he breaks into a smile, which makes Bob grin. He brings himself to stand closer to Panther, having to crane his neck to meet the man's eyes.

“How did…” Bob's question falters, but luckily still understood Panther.

“I found you? Well, word travels fast when you are on the same mission as Captain Maverick,” Panther smirks. Bob laughs, realizing the recent fame the crew got ever since they spent their time with Mav. If you were taught by the legendary Maverick and were on a successful mission alongside him, the story definitely travels fast.

Though, Bob's brow furrows again. “But how did you know I was here?”

“I have my sources,” Panther shrugs, making Bob pat his arm. He's still supporting those muscles that made Bob’s head spin. Bob blinks, trying to hide away his blush by suddenly pulling Panther into a hug, which makes the man laugh and wrap his arms around the shorter pilot. Panther shakes from the laughter as he rests his chin on Bob's head. Bob melts at the sound of the familiar heartbeat, the warmth Panther exudes.

The two move apart when they suddenly hear the sound of clapping, only to find Hangman walking towards them. “Is that the Panther I see?”

Bob tilts his head, before he feels himself being shifted to stand beside the taller man. “Hangman,”

His jaw slackens. He has never seen Panther revert back to the stone-cold gaze he once wore back in basics, not even when Bob made a mistake that Panther rightfully got angry about. Yet, right now, he has that exact face while facing Hangman.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you're back in Fightertown,”

“Never thought I'd see your douchey-ass here again,” Panther retorts. He stands much taller than Jake, though he still has his bite despite the height difference, seemingly unbothered. Jake leans over to look behind Panther's broad shoulders, finding a confused Bob.

“You knew him?” Jake smirks.

“We were in basics together,” Bob nods, his hand slowly reaching for Panther's arm, patting it softly. “He’s my friend,”

Panther takes a breath, before sighing and moving aside, turning towards Bob with a frown. “Sorry, my bad,”

“It’s alright, I'm fine, Panther,” Bob smiles, pushing stray strands behind Panther's ear affectionately.

Unbeknownst to them, the rest of the crew, including Jake, is currently looking at the two with wide eyes and jaws on the floor. Bob wasn't particularly open to touch, in fact—The only people that ever hugged him were the selected few in the Dagger Squad. Phoenix was normally seen with him, and even then she kept her distance with the backseater. And to the extent of Hangman's knowledge, the Panther he knew back in his Fighter Squadron days was a reserved and quiet guy, mostly intimidating with his height and build, but usually kept it to himself. To see the usually scary man being so touchy with a usually not touchy-feely guy is, to say the least, odd.

The two spent the rest of the day catching up. Bob has learned that Panther took a different route than aiming for Top Gun, and instead got deployed at some places to teach classes, the main reason why he hasn't been able to visit Fightertown. He also learned the second that he got a whiff of information that a squadron, led by Maverick, has done a successful mission and is still in Miramar, Panther booked the first flight to San Diego. He wasn't expecting to find Bob, he was hoping.

Panther ended up listening to everything his friend dumped on him. He knows Bob doesn't easily talk, only in short replies, so he’s happy to find him still so accepting to share his life with Panther. He learns about the Dagger Squad, how he's apparently close with Maverick now, and his experience throughout the death-defying mission. Panther, regardless of it all, was glad he had Bob in one piece instead of being invited to the aviator's honorable funeral. He’s proud to hear Bob making new friends, meeting new people, and is especially interested in meeting Phoenix.

“Oh wait, let me use the toilet, be back in a bit,” Panther places his Whiskey down, patting Bob's back as he heads to the toilets.

Phoenix immediately corners her WSO, sliding up next to him. She stares him down, bewildering Bob. “Who’s that guy and what's his deal?”

Bob takes a second to blink. “Im- Panthers my friend,”

“He seems more than a friend, Bob,” He knew he was safe with Phoenix. He knew he was safe with everyone, because they aren't like the old folks who glare at any two guys standing too close for comfort. Hell, they have Rooster and Hangman who are currently dancing around each other. But for Bob to tell Pheonix his ‘once boyfriend’ was a bit challenging for him. But he trusts her, and she worries for him.

“He’s my… Old Boyfriend? We never broke up, but-”

“He left you?”

“No! Phee please,” Bob sighs, readjusting his glasses. “ We got different squadrons and went our separate ways, honestly, it's a miracle he ever found me,”

The aviator looks down at his glass, the water reflecting his longing gaze. Bob smiles. “I never stopped loving him,”

Phoenix leans back, away from her backseater. Her eyes find the deep pools of Bob’s blues, having known him well enough to see past his usual awkward demeanor. The pilot huffs, before she looks past Bob and then stands. “I’m sure he feels the same,”

She passes Bob then, not before patting his shoulder, then walking away. Panther passes by the pilot, the shorter lady giving him a knowing look which makes Panther's brows crease, but he takes his seat again, already turning to face Bob.

“That’s Phoenix?”

“Heh, yeah,” Bob answers into his glass as he sips. Panthers swivel back around, finding Phoenix next to Hangman and an unknown man who supports a great porn stache. Panther manages a small smile, to which Phoenix responds with a nod.

“I like her,” Bob laughs.

—

It was well over closing hour when Penny finally pushed the crew out of the Hard Deck door, saying something about reporting them to Maverick if she had to, which made all of the squad rush out and into San Diego’s cool evening.

Some piled into Fitz’s car, Halo went with Phoenix on her bike, Hangman is already in Roosters Bronco, which left Bob alone with Panther. The two stay on the bar's porch, watching their friends stumble into their respectful vehicle. Bob spotted the guys fighting over who drives Fitz’s car even though the only sober one was Yale at that point, which made him laugh. Halo was already clinging to a sober Phoenix, clearly babbling about something.

Throughout the night, Panther has gotten into conversations with the squad. Hangman even offered him a match at pool, which he demolished, leaving Jake to wallow his way to Rooster, so he learned the name of the pilot with the sick stache. Panther felt welcomed amongst them, their sense of family palpable. He finds himself smiling most of the time, which freaked Jake out. And it seems they're on a first-name basis now, which Bob greatly appreciates.

They watch as their friends pull out of the parking lot, some blasting music, others oddly calm which bothered Bob. He hopes Rooster won't actually break Jake.

After the dust has settled and their rear lights are far off into the distance, Bob releases a sigh, smiling to himself.

“So, Bob,” Panther turns to him, making Bob tilt his head to match. “I have my Range Rover,”

“Still the same old?”

“The one my aunt gifted me, yeah,” Panther laughs, which makes Bob grins. He suddenly grew quiet, looking down into Miramar’s sand instead of meeting Bob. The shorter man furrows his brow, something churns in his gut. Before Panther opens his mouth, Bob beats him to it.

“I don't-” Bob takes a breath. “...What are we?”

At that, Panther smiles easily. He reaches for Bob's hand, holding them, drawing small circles on the back of the pilot's hands. “I’m your boyfriend, if you’ll take me,”

Then he brings Bob’s chin close, pressing his lips against him, and it’s back to basics. Back to the old dorms where Bob felt a surge of euphoria. Where he could finally let his walls be undone by the man he trusted the most. He’s missed this. Missed the easy slide of their lips, the comforting scent of Panther, the way his hand slots between the man's broad chest, how Panther pulls him closer by his hips and suddenly he’s weightless. Bob smiles into their kiss, happy to finally regain his spot between Panther's arms.

Requests are opened! Reminder to reblog!

224 notes · View notes

auroracalisto · 1 year

Text

not your business

robert "bob" floyd x gn!reader, platonic!jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.4k words tw: alludes to a past abusive relationship, abusive ex showing up at work, brief fighting, cussing, gn!reader but doll and hon are both used once a/n: i liked the idea of bob comforting the reader while jake defends them. this was ultimately born. i'm also working on being more descriptive in my fics... i'm struggling y'all

"Stay away from me!"

You heard yourself shouting, but you didn't know if the words had actually left you or not. A lump formed in the back of your throat as you tried to keep yourself from crying.

Kellan stood across from you, face hard. You had evaded him for this long, and now that he had found you, you start yelling at him? He had half a mind to yell right back at you, but he knew it wouldn't work. He was better than that.

It had been nearly two years. Two years in sunny California, far away from the worries that once plagued your daily life. You had found a job at the Hard Deck, and day in and day out, you would have the time of your life knowing that you were safe with your friends. The sandy beaches and wide open skies became your favorite thing, especially when you were with him—your Bobby. You could only wish that that's where you were at this very moment, not standing here in the middle of the bar you worked at, the yellow glow of the lightning shining down on you as you were targeted.

The heat of the night burned your cheeks—or, maybe that was the fear you felt creeping up your spine, threatening everything you had found. It could all end, in a matter of minutes. With Kellan here, he could take you away.

You might not ever see Bob again. Tasha. Jake.

You couldn't let that happen. That couldn't happen.

Panic blossomed in your chest as you stared him down.

How did he even find you? You did your best to become a ghost of his past. You left in the middle of the night; no note, no text, no call. You blocked him on everything you could think of.

It obviously didn't work. Why didn't it work?

"Come on, Y/n, don't be like that," he said, raising his hands in mock defense. He took a step towards you and you immediately took a step back, unknowingly bumping into a table.

You quickly looked back, panic striking you where you stood. Thankfully, there was nothing on the table to knock over. But as you looked back, your eyes glanced over at the pool table the Dagger Squad surrounded. Bob had abandoned his drink on the edge of the table, taking a step closer to you. You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

They knew you were capable of defending yourself. Bob glanced back at his friends, a deep frown on his lips. This fucker was about to meet his end.

You had started out just a civilian living near the base, but you had grown quite close to each of the incredible pilots when they were in for training and missions. Of course, you had failed to mention your past—specifically Kellan. But it wasn't very hard to put two and two together.

Glancing back up at Kellan, you swallowed thickly.

The silence in the Hard Deck was unbecoming—deafening, even. But that's not to say it wasn't packed. In fact, people littered the floor, drinking to their heart's content and mingling with their friends, and now, they were pulled into whatever was going on now.

"You're coming back with me," he said. "I can't believe you just left me like that. I come home one night, and everything you own is just... gone. You up and left me." He reached forward, tightly grabbing onto your wrist.

"That's it," Hangman's voice boomed across the room, fighting back his urge to shout obscenities. With heavy footsteps, he came across the two of you. "Let them go."

Bob was not far behind.

Kellan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And what are you gonna do, fly boy? Rough me up a little bit? They're mine. Unless," Kellan turned his gaze to you, a wicked smile growing on his face. "Did you leave me for this fucker? You are such a whore."

In an instant, Hangman had drawn back his fist. Only seconds remained before his fist collided with the man's jaw, knocking him to the hardwood floor.

Bob had come up beside of you, wrapping a hand around your arm. You looked up at him with wide eyes, immediately clinging on to the man. He pulled you into his arms, keeping you from the brunt of Hangman's warranted anger. You immediately clung to him, but your eyes remained glued to Kellan. Your head rested on his chest as you took a deep, shaky breath.

He scrambled to his feet, spitting blood at Hangman's shoes.

"You bitch," he seethed. "Fucking the whole squad, are you?"

You could feel Bob tense under you. He went to pull away, fingers itching to show the man a piece of his mind, but you quickly stopped him as you grabbed onto his shirt.

"Please," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, but stayed with you. Hangman would do enough damage on his own.

"No," Hangman scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the man. "They're just fucking one of us, but I don't really see how that's any of your business, asshole."

"It's my business because they're my bitch," he said, voice laced with what he believed was a threatening growl.

Hangman couldn't help but laugh. This dude was crazy. He couldn't believe they were even having this conversation.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, grinning widely at the man.

Kellan's eyes narrowed, and he found himself lunging at him. But Kellan had never been very graceful. Hangman stepped to the side, watching as Kellan sputtered to a stop. He pulled his fist back again, prepared to hit him when he heard your voice.

"Hangman, it's not worth it," you quickly said.

Hangman glanced at you, eyes softening. You were a dear friend of his, and even though he wished to beat this douche to a pulp, he'd respect your wishes (but that doesn't mean anyone else would). He looked back at Rooster, and a silent agreement was made. Rooster would take care of it.

Hangman's blood boiled in the confines of his veins. With one glance, he grabbed Kellan by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to the exit.

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god I'll kill you," he said, shoving him out the door. Kellan lost his balance, falling down the stairs. The satisfaction was worth it even if Hangman hadn't actually hit him again.

The man straightened out his uniform once more, glancing back at where you stood. Tears streaked your cheeks and your arm was red from where he had grabbed you. With just a few strides, he was by your side.

"You okay, Y/n?"

You gave a small nod, still clinging to Bob.

"Thank you," you said.

Hangman faintly smiled. "I should have stepped in sooner. I couldn't tell what was happenin'," he said. "Why don't... why don't you two head home? You look pretty shaken up, doll."

You frowned deeply, looking up at Bob who seemed to agree.

"I'll drive," Bob said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'm... I'm fine. But I think I should tell you what that was about," you said.

"You don't have to," he immediately said. "If that's something you wanna keep to yourself—"

You faintly smiled. "You deserve to know," you said. "You all do. It's... it's time I stop running from my past. Have a fresh start, with all of you."

Bob began to smile, taking ahold of your hand. Hangman went to grab a couple more drinks as Bob pulled you over to the Dagger Squad. Rooster and Coyote were nowhere to be found—Phoenix knew exactly where they had gone, but she said nothing as she pulled you into a tight hug.

"Come on, hon," she said, smiling. "You doin' okay?"

"I'm fine," you said. "Really. I don't know if I've ever been better."

Bob placed a hand on the small of your back. You glanced back at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

Just moments before, you wondered if the world you had built up would come crashing down. But you no longer worried about something like that—it was obvious that you had the best people to be around; there was no way your world would crash unless you let it, yourself.

444 notes · View notes

delicatenightfury · 1 year

Text

Fight's On

2022 Month of Writing: Day 19

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 1,672

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

Also, slight spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick if you haven't seen it

y/n sat back in her chair, listening mindlessly to the radio as she stared outside. Maverick had been shooting the team of aviators down pretty much all day, despite all of them being the best of the best. It was getting tiring. However, to an extent, it was entertaining. But only to an extent. Those two hundred pushups were killer. y/n had already done hers; she had been one of the first groups to go. And while she and Coyote had put up a good fight, Maverick still got them.

Now, Hangman and Phoenix and Bob were taking their turn.

“Say, Phoenix,” Hangman called. “How’s about we tell everybody Bob stands for something? Other than Robert, I meant.”

“Don’t take the bait, Bob,” Phoenix said. “Want to know why we call him Hangman?”

“Oh wait wait. I got it. Baby On Board.” Hangman’s laugh echoed through the radio’s speaker.

y/n shook her head.

Ever since they had been assigned this mission, Hangman had been picking on Bob. Hangman had been at Top Gun a year or so before Bob, and had been there with Coyote and Phoenix. Bob was also a few years younger than Hangman, which Hangman obviously saw as an opportunity to pick on the younger WSO.

“Shit!” Hangman suddenly said.

“Greetings, aviators,” Maverick said. “Fight’s on.”

“All right, Phoenix, let’s take this guy out. Break right!”

“Breaking right.”

“Where’s he going?” Bob asked.

y/n glanced at the radio.

“That’s why we call him Hangman,” Phoenix said. “He’ll always hang you out to dry.”

Not long after that, Maverick targeted Phoenix and Bob. Hangman tried going after Maverick by himself, only to get targeted himself. y/n couldn’t help but smile when she heard Hangman calling for assistance from his wingman.

“Phoenix, I can’t see him. How close am I? Phoenix?”

“I’m dead, dickhead,” Phoenix replied. Her smirk could be heard through the radio.

“See you in the afterlife, Bagman,” Bob said.

y/n laughed under her breath. She watched the next group get up to get ready for their run with Maverick. y/n looked back outside. Phoenix and Hangman were landing their planes. She watched as they got out of their flight gear and started doing their pushups with Hondo.

Eventually, they finished up, gathered their belongings and came inside. Phoenix was glaring holes into Hangman’s head. y/n shuffled over on the couch to make room for Bob. The WSO groaned as he sat down.

“Tough flight?” she asked, glancing between him and Phoenix.

“He’s good, I’ll give him that,” Bob said.

“We might have done better if someone hadn’t abandoned his wingman.” Phoenix threw another glare at Hangman, who ignored her.

Bob ran his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he did.

“Question,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. His voice was soft enough that only y/n heard him. “Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?”

y/n smiled.

“That’s called a threat.”

“Damn.”

y/n burst into laughter at that. She could feel most of the room looking at her, but she didn’t care. She had missed Bob’s sarcastic comments.

The two of them had trained at Top Gun. They had become close friends during their time together, so when they eventually had to go their separate ways, y/n had been extremely disappointed. They had kept in touch with one another, but it was just different actually being in one another’s presence.

“Everything all right over there?” Hangman asked.

y/n glanced at him, still smiling.

“Doing just fine, Bagman,” she said.

“It’s Hangman.”

“Oh I know.”

A few others, including Bob, chuckled. y/n winked at Bob, resting her arm on the back of the couch. They listened to the rest of training, everyone on the edge of their seat when Hangman and Rooster went back in the air. Everyone could tell that there was beef between Rooster and Maverick, but the group wasn’t expecting them to go below the hard deck trying to best one another in a training exercise.

Training ended when they got back. Rooster went to do his push ups and Maverick dismissed the rest.

“I don’t know about you all,” Payback said, “but I need a drink after all that. Anyone up for heading to the Hard Deck?”

Dagger Squad ended up claiming one of the pool tables at the back of the bar. They had gotten their drinks from Penny and settled in easily. y/n had chosen one of the stools by the pool tables to sit at. Bob sat next to her and Natasha stood nearby, waiting for her turn.

y/n had her arm around Bob’s chair, her fingers lightly running up Bob’s neck and into his hair. She glanced at him with a smile; his own fingers were tracing small patterns on her leg.

“So what were your thoughts on training today?” y/n asked, glancing between Natasha and Bob.

“Maverick’s a good pilot,” Natasha said. “He managed to shoot down every one of us today.”

“No kidding,” Bob said. “I barely saw him coming. Didn’t help that someone decided to abandon us.”

y/n gently rubbed his neck, trying to calm him a little. They hadn’t been working with the team very long, but they needed to be on good terms with everyone if they were going to work as a team.

“If this mission is as impossible as they’re making it out to be,” y/n said, “Maverick might be our best shot of preparing for it.”

The two nodded in agreement. They watched the others joke around, poking fun at one another as they drank and played pool. Jake sunk another ball, a smirk on his face. He stood up to look at the group.

“Who’s up next?” he called.

Natasha stepped forward, taking the cue from him as Javy reset the table.

y/n looked at Bob.

“You doing all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just getting used to the new crew. Phoenix is a really good pilot. And I know everyone else is too, but I think some people are going to have to work through some things before the mission.”

“I know the feeling. We’ll figure it out though.”

Bob nodded. Just as the two went to turn their attention back to their friends, someone cleared their throat. y/n glanced to the left, noticing a man leaning on the wall where Phoenix had just been standing. He had a confident smirk on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest.

“Can we help you?” y/n asked.

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” the man said.

y/n exchanged a brief glance with Bob before shaking her head.

“Uh, I think I’m all right. If I want a drink, I can get it myself.”

“Then how about we play a game of pool?”

y/n rolled her eyes. She shifted her in seat to face him more, but left her arm around Bob’s shoulders.

“Listen, I’m really not interested. I’m here to have a good evening with my friends. And if you can’t tell, I’m also here with my boyfriend.”

Bob squeezed her leg. They could feel eyes falling on them, but they elected to ignore it.

“Seriously?” the man said. “This guy?” He motioned to Bob. “You can’t be serious, sweetheart.”

“She is being serious,” Bob said, glaring at the man.

“And I’m not your sweetheart,” y/n said. “What about that is hard to believe?”

“Honey, girls like you don’t go for guys like him.”

“There a problem over here?” The group turned to find that Jake had wandered over, Coyote behind him.

“No problem here,” y/n said. She offered them a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes at all.

The man looked at Jake with a small smirk.

“I was just telling her that she would be better off with someone other than this baby-faced twig here-”

Suddenly, Bob was out of his seat, gripping the front of the man’s shirt, and landing a punch. The aviators quickly jumped into action to separate the two of them. Payback and Coyote grabbed Bob while Hangman and Omaha got the other man. y/n pulled Bob away, running her hands up his arms and to his face to try and calm him. She glanced over at their friends.

“Make sure Penny has him buy rounds,” she said.

She grabbed Bob’s hand and pulled him out onto the deck, away from everyone. When they were outside, Bob wrapped his arms around her waist. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his hair. They heard the bell inside ring and a cheer go up from the patrons. But the two stood quietly for several minutes.

“You beat me to it,” y/n said eventually. “I was probably gonna kill him.”

She felt him chuckle against her.

“I thought you said murder was bad.”

“No, I said giving a heads up to murder was called a threat.”

Bob pulled away slightly and smiled down at her.

“Ah, I see.” He sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I think I was still wound up from training and needed to punch someone.”

“I get it.” She pushed his hair out of his face. “Think you’re ready to go back in? I think we’re going to have to explain to everyone what happened. None of them knew we’re together.”

“Phoenix knew.”

y/n tilted her head in confusion.

“How?”

“I told her. She’s my pilot, and I didn’t want there to be secrets.”

y/n smiled.

“I can appreciate that.” She leaned up to kiss him. “Are they watching?”

Bob glanced at the window and chuckled.

“They’re curious.”

“I’m sure.”

Bob leaned down the rest of the way to kiss him. He held her close, happy to have her in his arms.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. Let’s head in before they start demanding answers.”

#month of writing #writing prompt #top gun maverick #top gun bob #bob floyd #Robert bob floyd #bob Floyd x reader #top gun bob x reader #x reader #top gun spoilers #dagger squad

195 notes · View notes

sp1drrthwips · 1 year

Note

okay late christmas gift from charlie again but wtv ...

CH☆R'S REQUEST 💌

robert 'bob' floyd x gn!reader

reader has been avoiding bob + overworking themselves, bob being the wonderful boyfriend material, he asks reader but it doesn't seem to work no matter how hard he tried ( etc, talking / trying to comfort them ,, asking them whats wrong ) , he then asks Phoenix for help on ways to help you ... ( idk what else u continue , )

OVERACHIEVER

platonic! bob x aviator! gn reader ; fluff / angst

summary — r has been overworking themself for the upcoming mission, avoiding bob in the process — that is, until an accident happens in the air

content / cws — mentions of overworking, blacking out, and a jet crash

a/n — i feel very meh abt this oneshot, and i'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but it was all i could think of so hopefully you like it <3

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

you were an overachiever, you knew that. hell, it was your call sign for a reason. it wasn't that you were trying to be better than others, no, simply that you were scared to disappoint, so you made sure you went above and beyond to manage expectations.

this mission scared you, it scared the other pilots too. flying at a level was way past the hard deck, being on the verge of blacking out, pushing your jet to the breaking point — it was a lot, but, being in the 'best of the best' tier in the navy, you had no choice but to train excessively. okay, maybe not excessively, that was a you thing.

in the process of overworking yourself, you ended up pushing away everyone close to you, leaving you to be by yourself so you could focus on training. you were good friends with bob, but you also didn't know him for that long, so he had only seen this happen once before. he had absolutely no idea how to help you. he tried to ask phoenix for advice, but she had just told him to talk to you about it, and that was the thing, he didn't know how to. he had come up with the general things he wanted to bring up, but maybe it was way too late for that.

you remembered the events all too well, how you could not? it was just a few hours ago. you pushed yourself too hard for the exercise, you had gotten the closest to hitting the target than anyone else, but ended up blacking out in the process of going up the simulated mountain that lead to coffin corner. maverick managed to wake you up with the loud alarm that came along when an enemy locked onto your jet, but by the time you regained consciousness it was too late to save your jet, leaving you to eject at the very last second possible.

now you sat in a hospital bed, head resting against the back of it with your eyes shut and nails digging into the arm rests of it. you were sure that no one could be more disappointed in you than yourself right now.

"hey, uh— earth to [n]?" you were pulled out of your thoughts, opening your eyes to be met with bob standing at the side of your hospital bed, "hi, bob."

sitting down in the chair beside your hospital bed, bob's facial expression contorted into puzzled look, as if he was trying to make sense of something.

"i need to talk to you about something," he began rambling on and on about how unhealthy your overworking habits were, "you can come to me, y'know."

"i know." looking down at your lap, you felt tears well up in your eyes, bob was nothing but a sweetheart to you, and you pushed him away. he noticed and immediately pulled you into a hug, well, the best he could manage with you being in a hospital bed.

"i have to go back out with phoenix, so i'll see you later, okay?"

"okay." you smiled, watching as he jogged out the room to phoenix, who was waiting outside with her eyebrow raised. she patted him on the back and gave you a quick wave before dragging him away.

#top gun maverick #top gun bob #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #top gun bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #₊˚⊹ᰔ requests .ᐟ

76 notes · View notes

writingdumpster · 9 months

Text

secret wife

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

warnings: none, all fluff

summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.

word count: 1k

A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!

Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob.

I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo

“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit.

“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered.

“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said.

“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested.

“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman.

“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback.

“I’m married,” Payback pointed out.

“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted.

“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said.

“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in.

“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said.

“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker.

“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was.

“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up.

“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.

“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin.

“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer.

“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you.

“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.”

“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed.

“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife.

“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked.

“Y/N,” you told her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.

“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it.

“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.”

“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back.

“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said.

“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly.

“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.

“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question.

“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you.

“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.

“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster.

“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back.

“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked.

“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet.

“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out.

“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled.

“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained.

“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained.

“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said.

“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry.

“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face.

“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home.

“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base.

“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered.

“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said.

“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted.

“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”

A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #top gun x reader #dagger squad x reader #bob floyd x reader fluff #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

3K notes · View notes

roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was.

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place.

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted.

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth.

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

--------------------------

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection.

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely.

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit.

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes.

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you.

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that.

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it.

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding.

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him.

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned.

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

-------------------------

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him.

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing."

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited.

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled.

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner.

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress.

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called.

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to.

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle.

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause.

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more.

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob."

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate?

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers.

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before.

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed.

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck.

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh.

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled.

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them.

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled.

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips.

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink.

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films."

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly.

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer.

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone.

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you.

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

----------------------------

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta.

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend.

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower.

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy.

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door.

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses.

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?"

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me."

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered.

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper.

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

---------------------------

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red.

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh.

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat.

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him.

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

--------------------------

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he?

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important.

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?"

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine.

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you.

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel."

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

----------------------------

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question.

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection.

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him.

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes."

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement.

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name.

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

---------------------------

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you.

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous.

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure.

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit.

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!"

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face.

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before.

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me."

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess."

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded.

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder.

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more.

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend."

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

-------------------------

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher.

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him.

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too."

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house.

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her.

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

---------------------------

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@bradshawsbitch

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@ohgodnotagainn

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@tigermoon3

@noonenuts

@amiets2

2K notes · View notes

withahappyrefrain · 3 months

Text

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you.

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it.

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new.

It also brought up many questions.

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you.

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face.

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp.

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four.

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner.

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated.

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.”

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them.

At least that's what the other thought.

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up.

“Been awhile?”

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought.

“Try never.”

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt.

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest.

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?”

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied.

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation.

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you.

Darn those long limbs.

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain.

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?”

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people.

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship.

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else?

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?”

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different.

You rubbed your thighs together.

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?”

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee.

Have his hands always been so big and veiny?

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands?

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?”

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing.

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point?

“You…like doing it?”

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.”

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work.

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual.

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.”

“You don't have to wait.”

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking.

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear.

You heard me.

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational.

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left.

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body.

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.”

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo.

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up.

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching.

For what, you couldn't tell.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want it to be different?”

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe.

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained.

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special.

He was never that way with the other girls he dated.

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter.

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching.

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut.

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said.

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were.

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his.

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild.

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt.

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.”

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to.

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable.

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations.

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips.

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were.

How could he do that so quickly?

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight.

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth.

Thank god your parents were on vacation.

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off.

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch.

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you.

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet.

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier.

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.

He laughed. Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet.

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it.

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit.

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out.

Good.

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible.

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled.

And he had just gotten started.

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time.

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away.

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Robby.”

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century.

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving.

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch.

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up.

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible.

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did.

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it.

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued. Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard.

Why did either of you wait this long?

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth.

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy.

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out.

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you.

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release.

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under.

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time.

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt.

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours.

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his.

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.”

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid?

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick-

Jesus Christ, he was huge.

“Fuck, she was right.”

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?”

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once.

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?”

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform.

“I….we can unpack this later-”

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?”

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick.

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful.

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock.

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.”

Darlin. You were his darlin.

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears.

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy.

Even he didn't know when he would return home.

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship.

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern.

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes.

“I don't want you to go.”

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them.

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you.

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.”

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his.

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards.

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.”

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him.

He was going to need it for the next few months.

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere.

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension.

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask.

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things.

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed.

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.”

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-”

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock.

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was.

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious.

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars.

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls.

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.”

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer.

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd.

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group.

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus.

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria.

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it.

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock.

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?”

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release.

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his.

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body.

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go.

You’d be a damn fool to.

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob.

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?”

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.”

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?”

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?”

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter.

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?”

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple.

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?”

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

#my writing #Bob Floyd #Robert Floyd #Robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #Bob fucks #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #Bob Floyd smut #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd x female reader #top gun smut #top gun fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

attapullman · 5 months

Text

Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago.

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups.

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place.

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street.

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves.

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect.

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye.

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious.

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks.

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug.

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.”

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him.

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?”

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen.

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen.

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace.

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.”

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both.

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door.

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #x reader #bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fluff #gn!reader #neighbor!bob

2K notes · View notes

callsignhoney · 2 years

Text

call sign story ➤

pairing ➤ robert "bob" floyd x little sister!reader

genre ➤ angst(y fluff??)

summary ➤ you gave bob his call sign

———

Bob knows how unimpressive his call sign is. It would have saved him a lot of teasing and jokes and awkward situations if he had just chosen a different call sign. There was a story behind “Bob,” one that he told very few. It was personal and it still hurt to talk about.

Maybe it was the relationships he’d formed with those around him, or maybe it was just the alcohol, but whatever it was, it possessed him to finally tell the truth behind his call sign when Phoenix made some good natured jab about it.

“Actually, it was my sister’s idea to have my call sign be Bob,” he spoke up. “She gave me the nickname Bob because when she was little, she couldn’t say Robert. It just kind of stuck.”

“So that’s what it is? A nickname your little sister gave you?” Rooster asked.

“That’s adorable,” Phoenix cooed.

Bob laughed. The three of them were down the beach some distance from the Hard Deck, sat in the sand and just talking away from the crowd. That thing—that confidence or security he felt around his two closest friends pushed him on.

“I only got into flight school after she died and um… I don’t know, it was like a way to memorialize her. Make sure I’d never forget.“

Phoenix’s smile fell, face softening. Rooster closed his mouth around whatever tease he was about to make.

“She was always my biggest fan. She believed in me when I said I wanted to joined the Navy when a lot of my family didn’t. When things got hard I could just think of her and how much I didn’t want to let her down.”

Waves washed gently onto the shore. Rooster and Phoenix said nothing as Bob took a moment to collect himself.

"She was my best friend, my biggest supporter. I always said she was too good for this world. Maybe something somewhere finally agreed."

"Hey," Phoenix called gently. "I'm really sorry Bob."

"Yeah, she sounds amazing," Rooster agreed.

"She was." Bob wiped at his face quickly. "She um," he laughs, "she would do this thing where she'd call me Bob "Bob" like you do, Phoenix. It was just a joke really and I know she'd make so much fun of me for actually doing it but... I don't know, it just felt right."

"It's sweet," Rooster said.

"I'm sure she'd love it," Phoenix added.

Bob gave a small laugh. "Yeah. She would."

#top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun bob #top gun bob x reader

2K notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 2 years

Note

Hcs for Bob and him being insecure or him being affectionate towards you<3 :) thank youuuuu

FINALLY A BOB REQUEST. I HAVE BEEN WAITING

listen bob isn't one to be super affectionate but when it comes to you, he cannot let go.

the dynamic here is you're grumpy and he's sunshine so it's so interesting to watch you interact

you're tough-hearted and everyone knows it. then when bob comes along, you're all happy-go-lucky and it's the sweetest thing ever

you'd die before admitting it but you love getting attention, especially from him

"i hate hugs" you claim but then bob hugs you and when it's time to let go you refuse, and you keep holding on

"i hate words of affirmation" you claim but then bob tells you "good job, love" or "i'm proud of you" and you're on the floor

"i hate quality time" you claim but then bob spends extra time with you during group nights at the bar, and you melt

"i hate gifts" you claim but then bob shows up to your door with flowers, gives you his good-luck bracelet before you go on missions, buys you a jacket you've been eyeing for a long time, and you literally start planning your future together

"i hate acts of service" you claim but then bob holds the door open for you, gives you his jacket when you're cold, walks you home. and you let him. and suddenly, you want nothing more than to settle down with him

it took you a lot of time to ease into things in the beginning. but once you finally do, there's no better feeling in the world

bob loves showering you with praise and affection

they most often come in the form of big hugs and holding hands

there's pre and post-mission hugs, good morning and good night hugs

and also comforting hugs when you're sad, and ones to calm you down when you're angry

don't even get me started on cuddling. that man is the best in the world at cuddling. you always fall asleep when you do it

if maverick wasn't dubbed the hugging king, the title would go to bob

you have bad anxiety sometimes and the only true way that can help is when he holds your hand

it's such a simple gesture, yet it does so much for you

you don't say it outright but you're glad he's such a little ball of sunshine

and that he's melting your heart

you can't help it but you let it happen. because you love and adore that man so so much

#top gun #top gun: maverick #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun fic #robert floyd x you #bob floyd x you #top gun movie #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun bob #top gun bob x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

692 notes · View notes

aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

Note

HI OKOKOK SO CAN YOU PLEASS DO A BOB FLOYD X MALE READER I WAS JUST LITERALLY COMPLAINING TO MY BEST FRIEND ABT THERE BEING NO BABY ON BORD X MALE READER FIC PLEASEEEEE

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING A BOB X M!READER hooooo boy have I been saving it up for this. Sorry dude but ya boy loves Bob so much I might actually combust so here I present a bob x m!reader fic! Btw, just so you all know, I know nothing about US military or navy (i don't even know mine lol) so all of the inaccurate stuff is on me, sorry T-T

You didn't request any specific stuff so I'm giving Reader a more confident and dangerous personality (With your callsign being Canine) And while not exactly ‘friends’ with the whole dagger squad before the mission, you were popular amongst them because of your otherwise welcoming vibe, so you're close to most of them. The story will have a lil fluff and promise for more at the end ;) ENJOY LOVELY ANON <3

WON'T BITE

Pairing: Bob x M-Pilot!reader

Tags: Dialogue heavy, first time meeting, implied nsfw, just meeting our cutie Bobby, slight HangmanxRooster

After getting called to Cyclones office and signed into the suicide mission, you didn't think it’ll include the bonus of a cute WSO.

—

When Cyclone called you to his office; explained all about this ‘Impossible mission’ thats borderline suicidal, and that you'll be in the same team with the best graduates of Top Gun, you thought it might’ve been a sick joke or a particularly hopeful fever dream. But when you walked out and got a text from Nat to meet her at the Hard Deck, maybe you weren't hallucinating.

Nat: Hard Deck, 9 PM

What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you’?

Instead, you replied with a thumbs-up and went on with your day. By the time you had to go leave and meet with Nat, you were in front of your closet, picking an outfit to wear. If this is about the mission then it might be wise for you to wear your formal uniform, and a silver necklace as a touch.

The time reads 2045 when your car pulls into the Hard Deck parking lot, and you jump out once you spot Nat waving at you.

“Nat! Hey!” You wrap her in a hug making her giggle.

“Hey there big guy!” She tightens, making you grin before pulling apart. You haven't seen Nat since her last deployment, those four months you spent alone without her constant company. Finally seeing her stateside again makes you sign in relief.

“Missed you, Phee,”

“Missed you too bud,” She smiles, before she looks behind you, prompting you to turn around. Payback and Fanboy, walking side by side, wide grins on their faces as they spot you and Phoenix.

“Guys!” You greet the two with a side hug, smiling widely. “So this wasn't a date Phee?”

“Shut up, you know it isn't,” She rolled her eyes, making all three of the boys chuckle.

“Wait, so hold on,” Payback pauses. “We’re all here ‘cuz of that new assignment right?"

"Pretty sure, I mean, why else would Cyclone inform us individually on the same day," Fanboy adds. You and Nat nod at each other, before a cheer erupts from inside the bar. Everyone exchanges grins and shuffles into position; Phoenix leads the pack while you, Fanboy, and Payback become the guard dogs behind her.

"Let's bring the party boys," Her smirk sharpens. God, you've missed that.

The doors pushes in, welcoming the pack with the warm atmosphere of the bar Penny has been nursing since years ago. True to her callsign, Phoenix's eyes fly over the room easily, and she stops at one point. You follow her line of sight to meet broad shoulders and primly cropped hair, tips of glasses barely visible behind his ears.

“What do we have here?”

You almost bump into Nat when she stopped just short of the pool table. Your eyes tracked the unfamiliar pilot, sitting lonesome while his eyes studied your pack. Those captivating blue eyes, shining just behind the rim of his glasses, went to Payback, then Fanboy, then yours—At which his eyes met yours, the pilot silently squeaked. You smirk, before turning to Nat who was already in a conversation with Hangman.

“Fellas, this here's bagman,”

“Hangman.” Jake's smile tightens, his eyes are as sharp as Nats. “Whatever,”

“You're looking at a naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill,”

“Stop,” Coyote nods. “Mind you, the other guy was from a museum piece in the Korean war-” Nat continued.

“Cold war,” He corrects. Only for Payback to interject, “Different war, same century,”

“Not this one,” Fanboy adds, at which you smile at him as he grinned back.

Coyote took a second to run his eyes down the line before he leisurely pointed. “Who are your friends?”

“Payback.”

“Fanboy.”

“Canine,” You smirk when Jake's eyebrows elevate, before turning to Coyote. “Hey Coyote,”

“Hey,” He answers simply.

“Who’s the cutie?” You nod, only to be interrupted by Hangman. “Jake Seresin,”

“No dumbass- Who’s he?” You nod then turn fully to the pilot sitting on the side, finding him brushing remnants of nuts from his uniform. He slowly raises his head to find the group staring at him. It should be impossible for his eyes to grow in size, it almost makes you laugh.

“When did you get here?” A smile tugged on Coyote's lips.

“Oh I’ve- I’ve been here the whole time,” He smiles and manages to draw at your heartstring. It took you everything to keep your eyes on him and not down to the floor.

“Mans a stealth pilot,” Hangman chirps, and you hear Coyote agreeing along.

“W-weapons system officer, actually,” He ducks slightly and adjusts his seating, a nervous smile on his lips.

“With no sense of humor,” Nat takes the cue when Hangman offers it, before he slides behind the group, presumably to order another round of beer.

“Lay off, Seresin,” You retorted, giving the man a pat on his arm at which he chuckled at. You only caught a glimpse of a shy smile before Nat continues.

“What do they call you?” Nat leans on the stick. “Bob,”

“No hon, your callsign,” You added, which makes him blink before promptly continuing.

“Uhh, Bob,” He nods firmly. You see Payback chuckling, followed by Fanboy, before they turn to the side with Coyote.

“Bob Floyd?” You turn back to Nat and Bob. “You're my new backseater? From Lemoore?”

You cringe slightly. Natasha was notorious for constantly changing her backseater. It wasn't entirely her fault to begin with, she just flies more dangerously than the average flyboys WSO’s could take. The only two who could follow her flying were Halo and you, granted, it was a training exercise for you. You recalled her last backseater before she was sent to deployment, a pretty built Floridian with the fitting callsign of ‘Crocs’, who demanded to be reassigned after Pheonix scared the living shit out of him. Pray to whatever god above this cutie from Lemoore could take her flaming soul.

“Looks like it, yeah,” He smiles, slightly wider. You nod in response, a sharp smirk displayed, while Nat studied his form for a second. Apparently, a second too long, because his smile turns timid.

“Alright ‘Bob’ Bob,” Nat extends her hand holding the cue to him. You arch a brow. “Rack em’”

You threw your head sideways. You hope Nat would spare him because you really would like to get to know the kid better. “A-alright,” He laughs nervously, before accepting the cue.

“I’ll hang on to this,” you swiftly catch the cup of assorted nuts from Bob who quickly realizes; you’ve managed to slip away enough so is now face to face with him. While there’s no reason for you to stand so close to the WSO, you made sure his arm could brush against yours if he moves only an inch. His glasses glint as he looks up at you, pretty blues meeting yours, before you smirk and nod to the pool table.

“Oh right-” He nods distractedly before he goes to set up the session. You grin, throwing an almond into your mouth, before letting the night continue.

—

At some point Rooster—Yes Bradley Bradshaw, yes the guy Hangman has sexual tension with—arrived, and you swore he almost made out with Jake when they confronted each other. You and Nat only shared an equally annoyed glance, before you greeted Roo with a firm shake and hug.

Though, throughout the night, you didn't leave Bob’s side. While he played and was rudely interrupted by Hangman stealing his cue, you made small conversations with him. You learned he graduated on top of his class, surpassing all of his colleagues, at which he got a position in Top Gun and assigned as Phee’s backseater.

“Phee flies pretty fast, but don't worry, she doesn't bite,” Bob chuckles as he moves back to stand between you and Fanboy. He declines a beer from Payback, opting to take his cup of nuts back while you take the bottle.

“How about you?” You finished chewing the remnants of your last cashew before fully turning to him, humming in question. “D-do you bite?”

“I could,” You tilted your head and grinned, displaying your rows of teeth, and your famously sharp canines. You see Bob gulps, before he drops his eyes to the cup he’s holding, to your disappointment. The nights still young, you could reel him in slowly.

“How about you Bob?” He perks up. “What's your callsign story,”

“Oh uhh… Just, I guess- everyone thought I was average, and well, ‘Bob’ is short for Robert and then-”

“Hold on,” You hold up your palm, making the man promptly shut his mouth. “Robert?”

“Yea-yes, that's my first name,”

“Robert? Robbie sounds way cooler!” You nudge at his hip, making him chuckle, a slight blush creeping from his neck to cheeks. You resist the urge to smother them in kisses.

“Yeah well, like I said, people thought I was average and… ‘Bob’ is a pretty average name for an average guy,”

“And yet,” You pause, making sure Bob’s blues are staring into yours. “You proved them wrong,”

Like static washed over you two, the world seems to quiet down. Whatever the crew was talking about slips away when Bob’s lips part and the hue on his cheeks grow darker.

“You're in Top Gun Bobby, you know you’re not average,” You nod. It takes a second before Bob visibly deflates, be sighs before a genuine smile is displayed in front of you. You could almost feel the sheer shine from the man’s adorable smile.

“Yeah… Yeah, I know,” You chuckle, swaying slightly to him at which Bob repeats the movement. You felt a shock when you brushed knuckles with him, and you're pretty sure it wasn't from the sweaty bottle you're still holding.

The Hard Decks commotion comes rushing back in when the whole bar boo’s, making you and Bob look around in confusion. In the distance, you could faintly hear a note from an instrument being played, before Nat grins and nods at the group to follow her. You arched a brow to Bob who shrugs, before you follow the pilot to Rooster perched on the bar’s beloved piano. Should've known he’d cut the wires to make the bar sing along again, in the presence of Hangman no less.

The group gathers around Roo and the piano, you and Bob standing just at the edge of the line. Once confident with the keys, Rooster belts out the opening verse to Great Balls Of Fire, and the whole club joins in.

Fucking main character, You thought, before joining in on your friend's serenade.

—

“Hope you didn't pull a cord there Payback,” You shoved at the taller man's shoulder, making the group laugh.

“I wasn't singing that loud,” He huffs. “Oh you were, you were,”

Nat only adds, making another round of laughter from the crew. Hard Deck has finally winded down while the clock ticks to 2245. Mostly pilots and their own friend groups are left, and patrons who haven't decided to pick a partner to go home with. Penny can be seen leisurely wiping down glasses, while the rest of the crew has moved from crowding around the pool table to scattering about near the main bar. Jake and Bradley had left an hour ago, suspiciously together, but knowing them; you and Nat only prayed they won't fuck up tomorrow's training. To say you weren't jealous of Jake and Bradley's enemies-with-benefits relationship was a lie; because you’d like to have someone offshore, better yet—in the team—to lay in bed with.

After making sure you didn't drink too many beers to be tipsy, you're currently nursing your last bottle for the night while listening to Nat and Halo arguing against Payback and Fritz, while Fanboys laugh to the side. You squinted when you realized Bob was sitting at the side again, only occasionally perking up when called. You huffed, This can’t do.

“Had enough for the night?” You slide beside the WSO, who immediately makes space at the bar despite the seat separating him and you.

“I think so,” He nods, a timid smile on his lips. God, to taste those lips.

“How about we head out?” Red washes over the man's face.

“I-We- we’re heading out?”

“Suuure, why not,” You smirk, again displaying your canines. “Let's go for a ride, or go out back to the beach, or anywhere,”

“Anywhere?” Bob blinks, seemingly in disbelief or embarrassment, you couldn't tell, slightly fuzzy from the beers.

“Sure, just out.” His face is inches away from you, eyes fluttering as he inhaled sharply. You turn to his ears, close enough to whisper. “I'm all yours baby boy,”

Bob practically melts as he inhales roughly, before he jerkily nods. “Y-yeah okay,”

“Okay,” You smirk, before pulling enough bills to cover your last orders. “Ring me up my dearest Penny,” The woman shakes her head fondly before taking the money.

“Leaving already nines?” Nat perks up, apparently finished with her argument.

“Yeah, sorry Nat,” You shrugged before retrieving your change from Penny. “See you tomorrow at training!” You called as you entwined hands with Bob, obscured from Phoenix's line of sight, before walking out of the bar. Maybe it wasn't covered enough, because just before the door closes, Phoenix shouts;

“You better not break him, Canine! I’m gonna need him tomorrow!”

“No promises!” You shout back, making Bob laugh, his blush now more pronounced under the evening light.

Once outside the bar, you two took in the night's clammy air, the slight hint of sea salt in the wind, and the slightly empty parking lot—saved for your car.

“Now,” You slide your arm around Bob’s surprisingly fitting waist, the man rests a hand on your chest, giggling. “Where to?”

#robert bob floyd x male! eader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob x m!reader #bob floyd x male reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #bob top gun #top gun bob #top gun bob x reader #bob floyd x you

193 notes · View notes

auroracalisto · 1 year

Text

would you still love me?

robert "bob" floyd x gn!reader, 1.2k words tw: drunk reader, drinking, coding reader as a clingy drunk idk a/n: the reader has some "philosophical" questions to ask bob. courtesy of the tiktoks i've seen floating around from time to time. it's actually pretty light-hearted, despite the title. i promise. expect drunken fluff.

The night had stretched into the early hours of the morning, which didn't often happen. But the next day was an off day, and the drinks were just too liberating to give up yet.

As the hours continued, Bob wondered if he should have gone home already, finding comfort in the idea that you'd go back with him.

Too late. It would be hell to try and find you at this point—the bar was packed, despite the time ticking closer to two in the morning. He'd let you find him first. You were somewhere, off with your shared friends. You would be fine.

He hoped.

He leaned back in his seat, watching as Fanboy lined up his shot. Bob hadn't wanted to play this round, but he couldn't help from watching. It was monotonous, and yet, it brought him a sense of comfort at times—just to exist.

At times, just existing was more than enough for Bob.

He felt himself getting all wrapped up in his head—something that happened far too often than it should. With a sigh, he let his head fall back, eyes falling shut.

And that's when it happened.

"Bob," you hiccuped, voice loud as you alerted him of your arrival. You threw an arm around the pilot's neck, with enough force pressed to his throat to cause an issue (even though you clearly were far too inebriated to realize it). In response, he quickly placed a hand over it, effectively keeping you from accidentally choking him with your drunken deadweight.

"Bobby, I have an important question. And you have to be honest! Don't lie. I'll know if you lie," you said, giggling.

Your free hand pointed at his cheek, making a small dent as your finger pressed into his skin. Your lips inched close to his ears as he looked over at Phoenix, eyes wide.

"How much did they drink?" he asked.

You were never like this—hell, he didn't remember the last time you had drunk much at all in front of him. Leave it up to the one night he's far too absorbed in pool (and his own mind) to realize what was going on.

Phoenix shrugged, hands raised defensively—she wasn't about to be blamed for this. "Don't ask me. I've been over here with you this whole time, Bob. Blame Bradshaw."

She pointed behind him, directly at the Lieutenant.

Bob looked over his shoulder, seeing the drunken pilot just smile in response. He plopped down beside Fanboy, who waited for Phoenix to play her turn. Hangman was nowhere to be found, and until he returned, they'd be skipping his turn (Phoenix just said, "you snooze, you lose" when Payback questioned them before he himself left for the bar as well).

"Bobby, look at me," you pouted, lips brushing against his soft, warm skin. "Please."

The golden glow of the lighting cast a glare on his glasses. He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes before he turned to face you. The glare momentarily flashed you and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from smiling. You truly did have an important question—it had been on your mind for the last ten minutes, and if you didn't ask him now, you knew you would forget it.

"What's up, honey?" he softly asked, sending you a smile. He'd have to drag you home, at this rate. He could only hope you'd come willingly.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

The sound of choking came from Fanboy's way as he sat his drink back down on the pool table, hand covering his mouth to keep the liquid in. He looked up in surprise. Phoenix held back a laugh, albeit poorly. She hid her smile behind her drink.

"What?" Bob asked, nose scrunching at the question. Did he hear you right?

You leaned forward, chest pressed against his back. Your hands gently gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, chin moving to rest against his shoulder. He could practically feel your quickened heartbeat the closer you got to him.

"You heard me, Bobby," you whined. "Would you... would you still love me... if I was a wom?"

"A wom?" Bob looked at you, perplexed.

"A worm!"

His eyes softened and with a sigh, he completely turned to face you. With gentle hands, he placed your arms by your sides, standing up in the process. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Yes. I would still love you if you were a worm," he said.

Phoenix burst out laughing, her drink slamming down on the table as Fanboy missed his shot in pool. He melted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Rooster snickered in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the conversation unfold. It might have just been the alcohol, but damn, you were killing them.

Phoenix was not about to let this go—she was going to tease you relentlessly for the next couple of days. The both of you.

Bob glared back at his friends, but when you grabbed onto his shirt once more, he averted his gaze back to you. His lips softened into another smile—one that made you weak in the knees.

You couldn't help it. You loved this man. Even in your drunken stupor, you knew he was the one you wanted to do everything with.

You were all smiles. "I love you, Bobby."

"I love you, too, honey," he said. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"Hmm, one more drink?" you asked, your smile only growing wider. "Please? Pretty please?"

"I think you've had enough, sweetheart."

Your smile dissolved into a pout. "Bob..."

"Come on," he said, grabbing your coat off of the chair. He helped you put it on, and while you didn't want to, you didn't protest.

The two of you promptly left, Bob leading you out of the crowded bar and into the night.

Hangman at last had returned to the pool table, two beers in hand—one for himself, and one for you. Payback remained at the bar, having struck up a conversation with some pretty lady. Hangman said something about how busy the bar had been that night under his breath, not realizing how quiet things had gotten before he came back. He looked at the empty spots, before looking towards the two pilots who were only just now calming down.

"What did I miss?" he asked, confused.

Rooster reached over and plucked one of the beers out of his hand. "Y/n."

He tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in response. He shook his head and took a swig before he grabbed his pool cue, prepared to win against the giggling school girls across from him.

Bob helped you into the car, buckling you in in the process. You grabbed the edge of his collar, pulling him close to your face with a grin.

"You're so cute, Bobby. You know that, right?"

"So I've been told," he said, a pink blush coating his cheeks. He pried your fingers away, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You just giggled dreamily, leaning back in your seat. You let your eyes fall shut as Bob shut the car door.

He ran a hand through his hair, thankful that the air was quite chilly that night. The heat from his cheeks was enough to make him even more flustered than he already was.

You were a handful—but like everything else in his life, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

In some weird world, in some faraway galaxy, Bob knew he would love you, even if you were a worm.

254 notes · View notes

tropes-and-tales · 7 months

Text

Good Girl

Day 2: Dry humping (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Idiots in love; praise kink; smut (dry humping; outercourse; whatever the youths call it now - clothed grinding and such); 18+ only.

Word Count: 2996

AN: This is loosely related to the very loosely-formed Seresin cousin mini-series, found here. It was requested for Kinktober by @justreblogginfics!)

You and Bob continue your little dance for months.

You know the man likes you. Every time you fly into town to visit your cousin Jake, Bob is always nearby, staring at you on the sly like a lovesick puppy. He’s always just at the edge of the group gatherings—nights at the Hard Deck, parties at Nat’s house, afternoons at the beach—and you always feel those big blue eyes tracking your movements.

Everyone else notices it. Harvard and Yale corner you at the Hard Deck, ask if you’ve noticed that you have an admirer. Nat pulls you aside at her barbeque and obliquely gives you a rundown of Bob’s numerous good traits. Only Jake holds his tongue, but you catch him narrowing his eyes at the WSO enough that you realize even your cousin—your cousin with his penchant for being self-centered, the handsome narcissist with the blinding smile—has noticed Bob’s crush too.

Bob never makes a move.

Nights at the Hard Deck when you blatantly lament being single. The party at Bob’s house where you stayed behind to help him clean up. The little touches you chance: brushing your hand against his, a light hand on his shoulder, friendly hugs…they are an invitation, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

It’s Rooster who clues you in. The man takes your hand one night at the bar and tugs you outside where the ocean crashes along the shore in the darkness. In the dim light, you can just make out the man as he peers down at you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says. “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You catch the white of his eyes as he rolls them. “C’mon. It’s obvious you like Bob, but you gotta make the move if you’re interested. You gotta be blatant with him. He won’t get it otherwise.”

“Why not?” Your stomach twists unpleasantly; you wonder if perhaps you’ve misread the situation. Maybe Bob has a crush, but maybe it’s just a crush, and maybe there’s someone else he loves and this is just a passing bit of madness—

“Guy’s a brilliant wizzo, but he’s clueless with women.”

Now you roll your eyes at Rooster, and he chuckles at the gesture.

“I’m serious!” he continues, and he holds his hands up, helpless. “I think he misread a situation once with a girl when he was younger, and I think it scared him off of making the first move.”

“That’s a terrible excuse. I got food poisoning from bad tacos once but I still eat tacos.”

Rooster chuckles again. “Yeah, but you women can be devastating when you reject us. I think poor Baby on Board was crushed before and now he’s just a pining little asshole, staring at you from across the bar.”

You shrug helplessly and glance back into the Hard Deck: you can see Bob in profile, and you get the impression that he’s just turned away, that he didn’t want to get caught watching you. Watching you and Rooster together, chatting outside, laughing outside. You feel a wave of sympathy for what Bob must be thinking—that you’re flirting with Rooster, that maybe Bob has missed his chance.

You turn back to the pilot. You square your shoulders. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll be the brave one.” A beat as anxiety blooms in your chest, makes your ribcage feel a fraction tighter, makes it just a bit harder to draw a full breath. “And you’re sure he likes me? You aren’t misreading this somehow? I don’t want to look like an idiot, Bradshaw.”

He laughs outright, and he hooks an arm around your neck to pull you into a friendly hug.

“Ah, kid, he loves you. You make the first move, he’ll probably go ring shopping next weekend,” he says, and he lays a smacking kiss on the side of your head before releasing you, shoving you gently back towards the bar.

-----

You may be confident, but that confidence doesn’t always extend into your romantic life. Still, you decide to be brave.

You make the first move.

When you go back into the Hard Deck, you notice that Bob seems quieter than usual, and you guess that he saw the hug, the friendly kiss between you and Rooster. You guess that he is drawing incorrect conclusions about what he thinks he saw, and you hate to think of him suffering needlessly.

You sidle up to him, and you feel another wave of tenderness towards the man when he turns to look at you—still with that soft smile on his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes despite what he must be thinking.

“It’s too noisy in here,” you say close to his ear. “I was going to take a walk on the beach. Do you want to join me?”

The hope in his eyes turns blatant. “Really?”

“Yeah. You wanna go? C’mon.” You don’t give him a chance to stammer his way out of it; you thread your arm through his and tug him towards the door, and he follows you without any resistance.

You catch Rooster’s eye, then Nat’s as you leave. The former tips you a knowing wink. The latter gives you a nod, and she lifts her glass in a salute.

You don’t release him until you’re at the water’s edge, and you bend down to untie your sneakers and peel out of your socks. He hesitates a beat then joins you, and he rolls up the pants to his uniform so that his shins are bare.

The two of you walk along the shore in silence for a bit. It’s one of the things you like best about Bob—how he lacks the braggadocio to always talk, to always fill up every bit of silence with the sound of his own voice. You know he’s perhaps more shy than the average person, but he doesn’t seem undone by it. He seems comfortable just to be himself: quieter than most, willing to sit back and watch.

Case in point: you hold your shoes and socks in one hand, and you take his hand with your free one. Maybe he’s nervous, but his palm is warm and dry, not sweaty or twitchy. If he’s nervous, it’s not obvious.

And he breaks the silence, after a while.

“Growing up in the Midwest, I never even saw the ocean until I enlisted,” he says.

“Same,” you reply. “I mean, growing up in Texas, we went to Galveston a few times, but that was technically the Gulf, not the ocean.”

“You like it?”

You feel the water lapping around your ankles, the give of the sand underneath your soles. “I do,” you admit. “There’s something really peaceful about it, and I love poking around at low tide and looking for sea glass.”

He glances at you, and you can hear the teasing in his voice when he replies, “I’m gonna tell Hangman that his cousin only visits him because he’s stationed along the coast.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you even realize you’re saying them. “Maybe I only visit Jake because I like one of his coworkers.”

The light-hearted feeling of the moment deflates; Bob goes silent. He takes a beat to reply, and when he does, his voice sounds strained.

“Bradley.” It comes out curt, two quick syllables. A statement, not a question.

You shake your head, let out a grumble of disagreement. Up ahead, you can see the outline of a lifeguard station, painted white and rising ghostly out of the night. You want to sit with him and finally talk with him, so you tug his hand and lead him there. The two of you sit on the steps, side by side, hips touching and facing the ocean.

“Not Bradley,” you tell him as you pick up the thread of the conversation.

“I saw you tonight—”

You shake your head again, cut him off. “He wanted to talk to me,” you tell Bob. “About you.”

You feel him go rigid beside you, and he huffs out a frustrated breath. If there was more light, you’d see the furious blush that breaks out across his face, but it’s dark enough that you can only guess at his embarrassment.

And now that you’ve opened the Pandora’s box, you can hardly take it back, so you plunge forward. Usually confident, you’re glad for the darkness too—you hope it hides your shaky hands, your inability to turn and meet his eyeline.

“I think you’re great, Bobby. Honestly. I thought you were handsome the moment I met you, but then I got to know you, and you’re quiet but you’re funny and sweet, and I was giving all these signs that I was into you, but nothing…I mean, I like you a lot and it’s just…” You trail off, lose your words like an idiot. You hadn’t enough time to rehearse this in your head; you just grabbed him at the Hard Deck and dragged him out here, and now you’re fumbling it completely. You drop your head and swipe your sweaty palms along the sides of your shorts, and you take a deep breath—

You hear his soft “hey,” and then a split second later you feel his warm hand on your face, tilting your head up and turning you to face him, but nothing on earth could prepare you for the way Bob Floyd kisses: gentle but firm, only a bit hesitant. His lips are soft, and he breathes out a quiet groan when you reach up and lay your own hand along the side of his neck.

Your thoughts go fuzzy. Your concentration—all the words you were fumbling to say—is shot, but when you try to break the kiss to finish what you were saying, Bob shakes his head faintly and mumbles against you lips.

“I know,” he says, and you can hear his accent breaking through. “I know, honey. Me too.”

Then he kisses you again, firmer this time, and a moment later, when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you open yourself to him, allow him to taste you. You taste him too, and Bob Floyd tastes like the grenadine-laced Coke he nurses each night at the Hard Deck, never much of a drinker even on the rowdiest night.

If nothing could prepare you for the way he kisses, then certainly nothing could prepare you for how sweetly dominant he is, how perfectly he walks the line between gentlemanly and not. Your clumsy confession must have given him the wherewithal to take charge, and you’re surprised when he puts a hand on your waist and gently urges you to turn towards him…then how he just as gently urges you to climb onto his lap.

It doesn’t take much urging, you find. You’ve been ravenous for months for this exact moment, and you had thought it’d never come. You break away long enough to study his face—this close, and with the faint light of the half-moon in the sky above you, you can see his wide blue eyes, his parted lips as he gazes back at you. You don’t see any hesitancy in his expression at all, but then he breathes out, “please, honey” and he squeezes your waist, so you clamber onto him with no grace whatsoever, but neither of you care because the moment you’re settled on him, you bend your head to kiss him again.

As it turns out, maybe Bob was just as ravenous for this moment too. He puts his other hand on your waist too, draws you closer to him, and you can feel the nudge and brush of his growing erection against your inner thigh. He makes a strangled, pained sort of groan in the back of his throat the first time you touch him there, and his hands spasm on your waist, grip you tighter before he schools himself and apologizes.

You break the kiss, slow the moment down. You cup his face between your palms and hold him steady, tilt his face up towards yours.

“Bobby, why didn’t you ever say anything?” you whisper.

He shakes his head against your hold and offers you a rueful grin. “Didn’t think you were interested.”

You snort and press a light kiss to his forehead, then another few to his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You can feel how flushed he is under your lips.

“You think I just randomly hang back at parties to help the host clean up?” you tease. You shift your head, whisper the words in his ear, and you note how he squirms under you. He’s growing harder, even at your playful kisses.

“Just thought…ah, just thought y-you were bein’ nice.” His accent comes out stronger, and his hands squeeze you tighter again before he loosens his grip. “You’re always so…so nice to everyone.”

“I’m nicest to you,” you point out. You kiss a trail along the line of his neck, and he tilts his head to grant you the space. At his pulse point, you can feel his heartbeat thundering away there, so you bare your teeth and nip him—not enough to hurt or even sting, but he groans out “shit, honey” and wraps a strong arm around your waist, hauls you right up against where he’s straining against his uniform for you. His other hand finds the back of your neck, and he draws you to him, kisses you breathless as he guides you against him, sets a steady, rocking motion against him.

It's too much: the way his clothed erection hits you just right, how he pushes you back and forth, over and over, until you are so wet that you’re certain you’ve soaked through your panties and your shorts. Everything feels sensitive, swollen, but he keeps guiding you, lifts his own hips in time to the rhythm he sets. It’s too much but it’s not nearly enough, and you wish you’d known how this entire evening was going to unravel because you would have just taken him home instead—

“This good?” he asks. His face is tucked against your neck; you’re a fraction higher than him, perched in his lap, and he works his mouth almost lazily against your neck, your throat, the underside of your jaw. He has one arm around your waist, holding you tight to him, but his other hand settles against your ass, kneads you there, digs his fingertips into the fat of your ass like he wants to own you.

You start to make a joke about being surprised to find he’s an ass man, but then he dips his head, works an open-mouthed kiss right where the swell of your breasts begin. You whine at the sensation and thread your fingers through his hair. You hold him there, and the desire coursing through you—the sharp ache between your thighs, the prickly-hot flush across your skin—makes you feel fuzzy, light-headed. You remember he asked you a question, so you answer him, nod hard and mumble yes, he’s making you feel good, he’s making you feel amazing, but what about him?

“Don’t worry about me.” He nips at your collarbone, runs his tongue along the line of it, dips his tongue into the divot at the base of your throat. “Wanna make you come, honey.”

Hearing those words come from his mouth makes your desire rachet up higher, hotter. You grip his hair harder, whine out his name, but then he adds, “you gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

There’s no way he could have known of your praise kink, so it’s just a lucky guess, but the unexpected phrase—my good girl…fuck if it doesn’t make you cock-drunk and stupid. No other guy really ever cracked the code of that kink for you. A few had made half-hearted attempts when you mentioned it, but Bob Floyd stumbles over it immediately, and your mind goes blissfully blank: yes, you want to be his good girl. Yes, you want to come for him. Whatever he wants. Anything he wants. Everything he wants.

You let go of your hold on his hair, and you cup his face again, tilt his head up so you can kiss him. “Yes,” you whisper just before you slot your mouth over his, push your tongue against his, kiss him so deeply that you’re sharing the same breath, mapping the inside of his mouth with your tongue, memorizing every bit of him you can. Yes, yes. Yes to all of it.

Mind blank, your pleasure overtakes you: you feel the heat and friction from where he sets you grinding against him, you feel the bulge of his cock hitting you perfectly, and every bit of him—his subtle cologne, the soft feel of his hair, the quiet little groans he makes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you—pushes you close to the edge. You teeter there, you ride him faster, the seam of your shorts pressing deliciously against your swollen clit, but it’s his words that push you over. His quietly domineering orders.

“Come for me,” he whispers, and it’s a harsh, punched-out sound that makes your stomach swoop when you hear it. “My good, sweet girl. Come for me.”

Your orgasm breaks around you like a wave, and Bob releases his hold on your ass to draw you closer to him, let you ride it out as you shudder against him. Both arms wrapped around your waist as pleasure sparks outward from your core, travels up your spine and courses through your limbs until your head is swimming and he’s tucking you against him.

“That’s it,” he whispers into your hair. “Good girl. So fucking good for me.”

And all you can respond with is yes, yes. Only for you, Bobby.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

2K notes · View notes